“Were any of the others on the team?”
“Well, Sir Roscoe was in charge of the estate, as he is now. But the others on the team were different. I only met Toby Fly this week. Mark Temple and I have known each other for about a year.”
There was something in her tone that caused him to respond, “Socially?”
“Why do you ask?”
“He’s a handsome young man, and you’re certainly attractive.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She unlocked the door to the other wing, and it was obvious she didn’t plan a direct answer to his question about Temple. He supposed it was none of his business, after all, and her silence on the matter was really answer enough.
He followed her through another door into a small well-decorated suite. The colors were cheerful and one whole wall was filled with books in English and Russian. The small man who waited there for him was such a contrast to Olimski’s imposing bulk that Rand had to restrain himself from commenting on it. It was still the Anton Lifnov he remembered, but the man seemed to have shriveled since their last meeting.
“Ah, Rand!” he exclaimed. “It is so good to see you again, so good of you to come!”
Polly glanced at the tray of food on the coffee table. “You haven’t touched your lunch, Anton.”
“I was not hungry. Perhaps now that Rand is here I will drink a little of the wine.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said. “Just push the buzzer when you’re finished.”
“You’re looking good,” Rand lied when they were alone.
Anton Lifnov smiled. “It was a difficult decision to come over to your side. Our meeting in Moscow was brief, but I think it was that as much as anything which finally decided me. You were not the villain I had imagined. You were only a man much like myself. I decided I could spend the rest of my life among such men.”
“And you can,” Rand assured him. “We’re all here to help you.”
The Russian paused and took a deep breath. “There is one problem. A very serious problem. That is why I told them I must see you.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“You see, I came over to your side with a certain piece of information. It was to be my passport to a happier tomorrow. The information concerned a double agent now in the employ of British Intelligence.” Anton Lifnov smiled sadly and took the glass stopper from the decanter of wine on his luncheon tray. “A bit of white wine?”
“I’ll pass for the moment,” Rand said.
Lifnov filled his own glass and continued. “You must realize that day-to-day activities in my section were much like your own. We were a shadow of British Intelligence, trying to duplicate your thinking and your procedures. Wherever possible our equipment was the same as yours, even to the latest-model IBM typewriters like the ones downstairs.”
“I’m surprised they gave you a tour.”
“Briefly, on the night I arrived. No one was working there. I told Hammond the same thing. It reminded me of my office in Moscow.”
“Did you speak English there?”
“As much as possible. A knowledge of the language was essential in our cryptographic section, of course.”
“Of course.”
“So I was familiar with western ways, and when at last we met in Moscow that brief time, I began to think the west would not be so bad. My wife had died of cancer, I was at loose ends. Ideology meant little to me. I came west, bearing the name of a double agent as my security to a new life.”
“And?”
He lifted the wine glass. “They brought me here for debriefing, and I found that one of these five people was the very person I had planned to betray.”
“What?” Rand almost came out of his chair.
“You see why I could talk to none of them? I do not know their relationships. I do not know their loyalties. If I revealed the information to any one of them I could wind up dead before morning. That is why I had to have someone from outside, someone I thought I could trust. Yours was the only name I knew.” He took a drink of the wine.
“If what you’re telling me is true, we must—”
Rand froze, leaving the sentence unfinished, as Anton Lifnov suddenly dropped the wine glass and clawed at his throat.
“Lifnov! What is it?”
The Russian toppled out of his chair, and as Rand bent to help he caught the unmistakable odor of bitter almonds. There’d been cyanide in the wine, and Anton Lifnov had died with his secret.
The others came quickly in response to Rand’s summons. Of the five, Sir Roscoe Hammond seemed the most disturbed by the body on the floor. “My God, this will ruin me. Whoever poisoned him, it was my responsibility!”
Toby Fly took a quite different approach. “You’re telling me he was killed by one of us five?”
“That seems to be the case,” Rand agreed. “He told me one of you is a double agent. He had no contact with anyone else in the building, did he?”
“None,” Sir Roscoe confirmed. “He arrived at night. I showed him around a bit, introduced him to these four, and took him to this suite where he’s remained for the past week.”
“Who brought him his meals?”
“Sometimes we would all eat with him up here. Lately we’ve taken turns bringing him the food because he seemed to prefer eating alone.”
“Who brought it to him today?”
“I did,” Mark Temple answered.
Rand looked at the untouched food. “Perhaps that’s why he was afraid to eat it.”
“But he drank the wine,” Temple pointed out. “He wasn’t afraid of that.”
“Apparently he never considered poison,” Rand agreed. “Even the odor of bitter almonds didn’t warn him.”
Olimski grunted and came forward. “You are overlooking the most obvious possibility, Mr. Rand — that my comrade became depressed after fleeing his homeland and took his own life.”
“After telling me what he did? It hardly seems likely. Tell me something: who else had access to the luncheon tray, and especially to the decanter of wine?”
“I helped prepare the food,” Toby admitted. “I like puttering around in the kitchen.”
“And I poured the wine from a fresh bottle,” Polly Carver said. “Sir Roscoe was right there too.”
Hammond agreed. “Any of us but Olimski could have poisoned the decanter.”
Temple cleared his throat. “I’m afraid our Russian friend isn’t exempt from suspicion. I stopped by his room to see if he was joining us for lunch, and I had Lifnov’s tray along. I even set it down and chatted for a few moments. I went to the window when I heard your car arriving, Rand. He could have poisoned the wine while my back was turned.”
“What do you say to that?” Rand asked the Russian.
“It is not worthy of a reply.”
“So all five of you had the opportunity. Now what about the means? The cyanide?”
Roscoe Hammond sighed. “More of my responsibility, I fear. I told you this estate was occasionally used to mount covert operations. Naturally we have necessary supplies on hand — weapons, shortwave radios, secret inks, and suicide capsules.”
“Cyanide.”
“Exactly. Any of us could have stolen one and emptied the liquid into that decanter.”
“But none of us as well as you, Sir Roscoe,” Olimski observed.
Rand held up his hand. “Let’s calm down. We’ll get nowhere accusing each other. Toby, you’re in charge of covert operations. You must have known where the poison was kept here.”
“No, no, my friend. It was all Sir Roscoe’s responsibility at this end.”
Hammond took a deep breath. “They’ve been here a week, Rand. Any of them could have stumbled onto the poison, or brought some along for just such an emergency. We didn’t search them, after all.”
“What about the dead man?” Rand asked, staring down at his contorted body. “Did you search him?”