(‘Mamusia?’ That hadn’t been the first question, but it came out automatically, from his enormous relief, now that he had a chance.
‘ Do you remember an old boyfriend of yours named David Audley? A big chap— ?’)
(‘Darling boy—! How lovely! Who did you say?’) (If there was anything he hated but about which he could do nothing, it was being addressed as ‘Darling boy!’, like a character out of a play written even before her time. But this wasn’t a moment for recrimination: it was the moment for Question One, repeated.)
(‘Mamusia — do you remember David Audley? Answer me quickly!’)
(‘David—David!’ At the first ‘David’ Tom hung on a thread. But at the second one he was on a ship’s cable. ‘ Darling—of course I do! From long before you were born, darling boy! From Cambridge—before I met your father… Or… perhaps not quite before—’)
(Audley was moving now—)
( I once went to a ball with him—David Audley Question Two Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State started to become redundant before it was asked. ‘ Darling—I went as “Beauty”… and he went as “The Beast”—how could I forget him! Where did you meet him?’)
(Scratch Question Two!)
(‘Mamusia, he’s here now, waiting to talk to you. And he’s my boss. So just tell him I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes—don’t argue just tell him that—okay?’ No more time.
‘Hold on—here he is now—’)
In the end he dawdled back to the car, plagued by the same old mixture of love and exasperation and admiration and doubt which he had always—or, not always, but at least latterly—shared about her with Dad: she was gorgeous undoubtedly (and what she must have been like in Audley’s youth, and in the full flush of her own, taxed his imagination beyond its furthest limits); but she had always
—no, not always, but sometimes—seemed to him the best and worst of mothers, by turns affectionate and uncaring, tactful and tactless, and intellectually brilliant and embarrassingly feckless: all he had ever known was that he could never be sure of what he knew about her—that he could never be sure of anything. And that had often been good fun, but not always. And now was one of those not-always times, although now he had only himself to blame
—But Audley was coming back now—
Audley got into the car, breathing heavily. ‘That was an exceptionally low-down action.’ The old man fumbled for his Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State safety-belt, and fumbled even more before he snapped it home. ‘
“Darling Boy”—“Darling Boy”?’ He looked at Tom in the darkness. ‘But I thought the phone-box was out-of-bounds—?’
But he didn’t sound angry, thought Tom. In fact, he sounded foolishly at ease, even happy, after that ‘low-down action’. So perhaps, just this important once, she had been not only at her most affectionate, but also tactful and brilliant—not (as she always had been with Willy’s predecessors) the other way round.
‘Yes—I’m sorry, David.’ That was true, and even doubly true: he had said that, but more than that he was vestigially sorry that he had played so very dirty; because, if calling her had been a fearful risk, using her against the old man hadn’t been cricket in Dad’s Cambridge definition of the game; but, then again, in his own definition—and in Mamusia’s— and, for that matter, in Audley’s—
in all of those, Dad’s definition didn’t apply: none of them had played Dad’s Cambridge game for a long time, if ever.
‘Sorry?’ Audley wasn’t so happy now. ‘I thought you Diplomatic Protection people were more into “safe” than “sorry”?’
‘Yes.’ Now he really was sorry, as he realized he must be more careful with Audley. ‘But I didn’t call her until I was sufficiently sure the road was clear. And I really don’t think my mother’s London line is insecure—not unless your old comrade is much better informed than he has any right to be, David.’
‘No?’ Audley was even unhappier. But at least he had been safely diverted from the true truth. ‘No, I might grant you that, Darling Boy. Or… I might, if you can tell me who is better informed—eh?’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State They were far from the truth, safely. But they were right into the middle of a much more worrying truth.
Tom backed the car out, and started to drive. ‘Yes.’ He needed the fastest road to the M4 now, to the West Country, when Audley would be taking the M3 to London as his objective. But he wanted a lot more out of the man before the deviation became apparent; so Audley’s attention to road-signs and sign-posts must be diverted for the time being.
‘Yes.’ The trouble was that Audley was quite right, whatever convenient possibilities Jaggard chose to imagine: someone had got to Basil Cole, and very efficiently, even before someone had got to David Audley, even though their cruder solution to that assignment had failed disgracefully. ‘Maybe you should talk to Colonel Butler.’ The road was dark ahead, and dark behind: it was the hour when the early evening drinkers were drinking, and the rest of the world was settling down for its night’s television, or putting its children to bed, or having its supper. ‘You might even ask him for some more protection, while you’re about it. In fact, that’s what I’d advise now, professionally.’
‘Even though we’re not being followed?’ Audley sat back comfortably, more relaxed again. ‘Darling Boy?’
‘Yes.’ If Audley thought he was going to rise to Mamusia’s dreadful term of endearment he was much mistaken. ‘But if they already know exactly how you think, they hardly need to follow us, do they?’
‘Very true. And rather disconcerting, I agree.’ Audley fumbled down beside his seat. ‘How does one put oneself into the reclining Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State position, Darling Boy?’
‘You’re not going to go to sleep on me, are you?’ The thought of Audley snoring beside him during the long drive to the West Country was off-putting.
‘I thought I might shut my eyes for an hour.’ Audley found the seat-adjuster and sank out of sight. ‘We elderly persons… we don’t need so much sleep, but the occasional cat-nap works wonders…
Just wake me up on the edge of London. Then I’ll make a phone-call.’
‘To Colonel Butler?’ In return for getting his own way Tom was prepared to put up with the old man’s snoring. ‘For back-up?’
‘No. He can’t spare anyone… Research and Development doesn’t carry assorted minders on its payroll, we all work for our living…
And I don’t want anyone. Especially not any of the unemployed hoodlums Jack would have to hire.’ Audley sneezed explosively.
‘You will make the phone-call actually, Tom—to inform Nikolai Panin that we are changing the rendezvous, wherever it may be that has been agreed. Okay?’
‘What?’ The A34 advance warning sign flashed up ahead.
‘You’re quite right… somebody is too damn-better informed.’
Audley’s voice was starting to get sleepy. ‘So we’ll start out by meeting him on my chosen ground, where you won’t have to have eyes in the back of your head… Then we won’t need any of your