‘How?’ Jaggard was there, ahead of him.
‘If we tell him Panin wants to see him, he won’t be able to resist that—’
‘But if he does?’
‘We’ll make it irresistible. Leave that to me.’ Part of their usual Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State accord was that there were some things which Jaggard didn’t need to know. ‘But I don’t think he’ll want to miss Panin for a return game. And that could solve our Polish problem without the need to risk Viking. Because he’s never going to let Panin outsmart him.
So you can be sure that whatever Panin really wants, Audley will find out what it is. And he won’t let Panin get away with it.’
‘But… if it goes the other way—?’
‘Then there’ll be a scandal.’ Garrod Harvey shrugged. ‘But if we leave Zarubin and Panin to their own devices there’ll be a scandal anyway, most likely, Henry. But this way .. . this way it’ll be a Research and Development scandal. Because Audley will never come to us for help—it’s not in his nature to come to anyone, not even Jack Butler if he can avoid it. And certainly not when someone like Panin is involved. He’ll want to shibbuwich the man, like last time, Henry. David Audley’s whole psychology is dedicated to winning, not to Queensberry Rules games-playing.
But if loses this time… then you can blow R & D wide open, Henry.’
‘Yes.’ That enticing possibility plainly captivated Jaggard—as it had from the start. ‘But if he loses, Garry —Panin’s a murderous swine… and Zarubin—’ He fixed Harvey coldly ‘—Zarubin’s worse than Panin, in so far as that’s possible, Garry.’
That was the good Catholic speaking, echoing generations of good Catholic Jaggards from the Reformation onwards, who had sweated and suffered for their Faith then, and had been disadvantaged even in liberal England for the next three hundred years afterwards, down to the living memory of Henry Jaggard’s Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State own great-grandfather. ‘So?’
‘I can’t risk Audley.’ The cold look became deep-frozen. ‘Bringing R & D to heel is important. But what they’re doing at the moment is important also. And Audley’s done a lot of good work, over a lot of years, Garry. So risking him now just isn’t on.’
‘I agree—I do agree, absolutely!’ Harvey understood the complexity of his error and Henry Jaggard’s dilemma simultaneously: the professional and patriotic ninety-nine-hundredths of Henry Jaggard wanted what they both wanted; but the hundredth part of Henry Jaggard was old Catholic and very different—what it wanted, that hundredth part, was either Major-General Gennadiy Zarubin on his raw knees in front of the High Altar, praying for the forgiveness which the Holy Catholic Church never denied sinners… or Major-General Gennadiy Zarubin broken and bloody, and turned over to the Civil Power for appropriate final punishment, like in the old days.
‘I do agree, Henry.’ Garrod Harvey kept his face straight. Because what Henry Jaggard wanted was for Audley to win and lose at the same time; and that was exactly what he was now about to offer to Henry Jaggard, and the Minister’s Special Adviser, and the Minister, and the Prime Minister, and Her Gracious Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II! ‘But my money’s on David Audley—I think he’ll screw Panin into the ground, and General Zarubin with him.
But I also think we have to give him a bodyguard, to watch over him—’
‘A bodyguard—’
‘That’s right: a bodyguard.’ Nod. ‘I’ve taken that for granted.’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Another nod, for good measure. ‘Not just to look after him, but also to keep us informed as to how he’s breaking all the rules in the book. Because that’s what he always does—he doesn’t even pay lip-service to the rules, Henry. So if he screws Zarubin—Zarubin and Panin… then, even then with a bit of luck, we can still make a scandal of it—if we have someone on the inside beside him, watching him—?’
Jaggard frowned, as though some long-outdated moral scruples were attempting to skirmish with pragmatic experience, like bows-and-arrows against machine-guns, which was no fair contest.
And yet (as though the longbowmen and crossbowmen were cheating, by capitalizing on the silence of their weapons), Jaggard was still frowning at him.
‘We have to have someone alongside him, Henry.’ He had to press home his technological advantage. ‘Otherwise he’ll weasel out of it somehow, like he always has before.’
‘He’ll never accept anyone.’ Jaggard left his moral scruple behind.
‘Or he’ll want someone he can trust, like Mitchell or Andrew from R & D, Garry.’
Garrod Harvey shook his head. ‘They’re all too busy, with their own Gorbachev work. And they don’t fancy minding Audley, at the best of times.’ He made a face at Jaggard. ‘Minding David Audley is a thankless task. And in the past it’s also been rather dangerous. But, in any case, R & D hasn’t got the manpower for it.
Or the womanpower.’ This time Henry Jaggard knew better, and merely waited for enlightenment.
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Garrod Harvey turned the shake into a nod. ‘I fed a few notional facts into the computer this morning—profile facts.’
Henry Jaggard looked at him, trying to pretend that he knew
‘notional facts’ and ’profile facts’ from the double yellow lines on the road outside, far below them in Whitehall. ‘And—?’
‘I think we’ve got just the man for the job. At least… he’s a medievalist, of a sort. And he also speaks fluent Polish.’ Garrod Harvey smiled invitingly.
Henry Jaggard was so relieved to have left the computer behind that he accepted the invitation. ‘And—?’
They had passed the point where Jaggard might have said ‘What you’re proposing is monstrous, Garry,’ even though what he was now proposing was just that. ‘He isn’t Audley’s son, Henry. But he could have been. Audley will never be able to resist showing off in front of him.’
PART TWO
The Man for the Job
1
Tom moistened the end of his stub of indelible pencil and wrote
‘1025’ beside the line of the bailey ditch on his sketch-map.
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State If Willy’s measurement of the motte ditch was about 500 feet in circumference, then the whole motte-and-bailey was a dead ringer for the Topcliffe castle in size, if not in date—obviously not in date, because Topcliffe was an early post-Conquest castle, and this was as yet not anything at all except an anonymous ‘earthwork’ on the ordnance survey map. So it just could be Ranulf of Caen’s adulterine castle, which certainly should be somewhere hereabouts if his calculations were right.
On the other hand, it was certainly not much of a motte, he thought doubtfully, looking up into the impenetrable undergrowth above him and trying to estimate the height of the mound. These were undoubtedly Ranulf’s lands, de facto, if the local bishop’s de jure, in the mid-twelfth century; and both Ranulf and the bishop had changed sides in the civil war, several times and not always at the same time. But the Norman barons—even a two-timing (or ten-timing) jumped-up shyster and petty hedgerow mercenary knight like Ranulf—had thrown up more impressive earthworks than this in a hundred other places, with little time and their enemies at their backs. So it still could be merely a fortified manor, a hundred years or more away from Ranulf’s brief medieval gangster flowering during the years of anarchy. So, allowing for the wear-and-tear and the wind-and-rain of all the 800 years afterwards, it all depended on Willy’s measurement, which should establish the circumference and diameter of his hypothetical motte, with its stockade and tower, which could perhaps be proved during his next leave—