list - ?'
'No.' He stirred, as though Colonel Butler's chair was becoming uncomfortable. 'It was a rather odd business altogether. It might be better for you to read about it for yourself - ' He gestured towards the empty screen beside him ' - you're cleared for it. All you have to do is punch "Debrecen" into the computer - D-E-B-R-E-C-E-N. It's all there - what there is of it.'
The name meant nothing to her. But then codenames never did mean anything - Overlord, Cobra, Horserace, Ajax, Warsaw, Peeler - they were all nonsense unless -or until - you were cleared. And even then, now that the Beast-computer ruled, every punched-in inquiry was recorded for posterity. It was easy to understand why they all hated the machine which used them while they used it.
'In fact, there were two lists, Elizabeth.' Latimer squirmed again, and she realized that dummy2
she'd been staring him out of conscience. 'We had one, and the Americans had one. And the Americans eventually shared theirs with the West Germans, against our advice. And we only tipped them off - the Americans - because we needed to curry favour with them, after Suez… If they'd got it first they'd never have trusted us… Not that it did us any good, in the end. More like the opposite, in fact.'
The two 'in facts' bracketed far more information than she'd expected, even though she still didn't know what it meant. But as there was a chance that he might actually be giving her more than was in the official record in those asides of his, it was worth pushing her luck.
(There were times to push, and times to hold back, and the trick was judging the right time, was what David Audley always preached. And one right time was when your contact was pleased with himself.)
'Two lists?' But how to push? 'Major Parker was on the American list, presumably?'
'He was.' He rewarded her initiative with a tiny flash of approval. 'But we didn't know that at first - ' He waved his hand in a jerky disclaimer ' - when I say "we", Elizabeth, I don't mean me, of course - I had no part in the affair… It wasn't known, let us say, until we compared lists in detail, the Americans and ourselves. And by that time both Thomas and Parker had been completely cleared, you see. Among others.'
'Cleared of what?'
'Ah… well, let's just say cleared of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for the present? Audley will tell you.' His hand hovered over the Thornton's box, as though it had a life of its own and was trying to assert itself. 'Suffice it to say that until that comparison, nothing even remotely suspicious had been established against either of them.'
'How good was the vetting?'
Latimer bridled slightly. 'It was… it was good enough, as far as it went.' He frowned. 'No -
it was good - let's be fair.' He nodded. 'If it had been me, I might have cleared them, too -
shall we say that?' The effort of 'being fair' taxed him sorely, she could see: he didn't want to be fair.
But that was not what she wanted right now. 'So they compared the two lists?' She had to keep him moving. 'And came up with the Pointe du Hoc?'
'Not immediately, no. That came later. What they came up with first was Parker's name in Thomas's address book and vice-versa. So then they started to double-check.' He stared at her. 'And, you know, that really is the one absolutely curious thing about this whole wretched business, when you think about it.'
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'What is?'
He shifted in his chair. 'The Pointe du Hoc - or that particular point in the sea midway between the two American landing beaches anyway, where Parker picked Thomas up.
Because that really was the only connecting link between them which anyone could come up with. They were each on their own respective list in '58, and they'd met just that once in
'44 - and they gave exactly the same account of it, near enough. Apart from those few cards… which they'd stopped exchanging long since… there was nothing else. They both worked for their governments - they were both civil servants. But Thomas had no American connections of any significance, his work was strictly European. And Parker's was strictly South American… or maybe Central American.' He blinked irritably.
'"Hemispherical", the State Department called it. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that they checked Parker again too, and pronounced him pristine. He remembered Thomas from '44, but that was all. Their paths hadn't crossed again.'
'And we cleared Thomas?'
'He was cleared also.' Traces of irritation remained in Latimer's expression. 'And we were duly reminded that he was a D-Day hero who deserved better of his country than to be hounded by inquisitive little men in dirty raincoats.'
'So he was cleared.' The point had to be pressed. 'So what happened then?'
'He resigned… not long afterwards.' Latimer waved his Thornton's hand vaguely.
'Why?' The point still had to be pressed. 'If he'd been cleared - ?'
'He had been cleared. And by that time the whole Debrecen investigation had been aborted.' Another vague gesture. 'He said he wanted to go back to teaching. The Foreign Office blamed us. You must ask Dr Audley - he blamed the Foreign Office.'
That at least sounded like David Audley, whose instinct in adversity was never defensive.
But, as Latimer kept saying, she could ask David about everything in due course. What mattered now was that Latimer expected her to ask him, judging by his expectant expression.
In fact she had a Wimbledon Centre Court queue of questions, all pushing and shoving.
But now a new one had just jostled its way to the very front.
'Yes, Elizabeth?' He played not so idly with the lid of his box.
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'One thing, you said - two things, actually - I don't understand.'
He rubbed the tip of his nose. 'Only two things?'
Supercilious pig! 'You cleared Squadron Leader Thomas. Back in 1958.'
He worked on his nose for a moment. 'He was cleared, certainly. Twice, actually. But not by me.'
That re-emphasized minor matter, in passing: that whatever had gone wrong in 'this wretched business', Oliver St John Latimer was not going to take any past blame.
'And Major Parker was cleared.'
'So he was.' He agreed cautiously. 'By the Americans.'
'Yes.' That was another straw in the wind. Or a bale of straw. 'So how do we know they never met again, before last week?' She sought wisdom as politely as a fourth former catching out her teacher in a spelling mistake. "They were both cleared - but we've been watching them for twenty-six years? Or have I missed something?'
'Ah…' He opened the box. 'Will you have a chocolate?'
Thank you.' As she selected one he watched her so intently that she wished she knew which was his favourite.
'And I'll have one too.' His smile mortified her as he pounced on his preference gratefully, greedily. 'No… no… No, there, I must admit, I am relying on the Americans, Elizabeth.'
'The Americans didn't abort their original investigation?'
'Uh-uh.' He shook his head, unwilling to swallow his chocolate prematurely. 'It was… it was a joint decision, back in '58. The whole affair had become very messy politically.
Indeed, counter-productive.' He disposed of the chocolate at last. "There have been faint echoes of Debrecen down the years since then, but never loud enough to justify a reactivation. Until last year, when a rather unpleasant episode occurred in America, involving one of the names on the American list.' The pudgy hand, which had been toying with a brightly-coloured sweet-paper, clenched it. 'A very nasty affair.'
Elizabeth pretended innocent interest. When Latimer had been in America last year there had been a minor panic one evening while she had been duty officer. But she had never dummy2