Here Be Monsters

That was telling her. 'And if he runs then - ?'

'Then our problem's solved.' He sat back. 'But if he was going to run, I think he would have done so by now, for what it's worth.'

So Thomas was a harder nut to crack than Parker, was what he thought. Perhaps even an uncrackable nut.

'Did we make a mistake in '58?' The cathedral reformed momentarily, then collapsed as he reached for the chocolates. 'Because if we did, then we reactivate our whole Debrecen list.

And it's up to you to tell me, Miss Loftus.'

3

'Unsatisfactory, Miss Loftus.' Major Turnbull answered the question without hesitation.

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'My investigation was unsatisfactory.'

Elizabeth felt the word envelop her, as though he intended that it should apply to her also.

It was only the second time that she had spoken face-to-face to the department's newest recruit, but her recollection of the first encounter was all too vivid.

'Unsatisfactory, Major?' The repetition of his rank (if it really was his rank) recalled Major Birkenshawe to mind, but only for an instant, since her own dear old major resembled this one in nothing except that. 'In what way unsatisfactory?'

'It is evident that you have not read my report, Miss Loftus.' His unnerving immobility, not only of body and features but also of eye, began to work on her again.

'No, Major.' She fought the urge to explain her failure, and finally settled on saying nothing at all, remembering the last time -

' What a dreadful-sounding place!' (Superintendent Andrew, secure in his impeccable and genuine working-class accent, had been lodged in the tiny village of Grimeby, the better to find out why one of their Known Agents was presently fishing in the troubled waters of the Great Miners' Strike.) ' Grimeby!'

But Major Turnbull had waited for her to elaborate on her stupidity.

'You can see how people living in a place like that might want to throw stones at the police -

"Grimeby"!'

Only then had Major Turnbull pounced.

'Had you visited it, Miss Loftus, you would know that Grimeby is a not unattractive hamlet on the edge of Baldersby Dale. And had you cared to research it further, you would know that "grime" has nothing whatsoever to do with coal-mining. It refers, in fact, to a standing stone of great antiquity nearby, dating from Viking times and sacred to the Norse god Odin, "Grim", or "Grimar", being a colloquial rendering of his fierce expression. The god of war and battle, Miss Loftus, as well as the patron of wise men and heroes. And also the god of hanged men riding the gallows as his steed.'

But not this time, by God! He could look at her as grim-faced as Odin himself riding his gallows. But whatever his objection to her might be - whether it was professional, against women in this line of work, or Father's simple old-fashioned misogynism - whatever it was, it would cut no ice with her this time. This time he was going to do the talking.

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Finally he looked at his watch. But then his hand returned to his lap, the fingers loosely clenched, alongside the other hand, which hadn't moved. If he had a train to catch he was evidently prepared to miss it rather than forgo the satisfaction of making her speak.

Elizabeth weakened. 'Go on, Major.' She forced herself to smile. 'Yes?'

'Very well, Miss Loftus.' He didn't bat an eyelid, but she could feel his satisfied prejudice like an aura, now that he had asserted his superiority. 'What is it that you want to know?'

That was a superficially reasonable question, thought Elizabeth. But, as David Audley always maintained, questions usually give you answers about the questioner. So in this instance, since he knew she hadn't read his report, he was also fishing - and probably for anything the Deputy-Director had told her, for a start.

Well, that other time she'd been easy meat. But this time she must simply remember that his brief had been Major Parker's death.

'Everything, Major.' Another smile. 'Why was your investigation unsatisfactory?' He'd know a false smile when he saw one. 'A tragic accident, the newspapers said?'

'Yes.' The eyelids still didn't bat as he realized that she had learned her lesson. 'The French were waiting for me, Miss Loftus.'

'Waiting for you?' Innocent and genuine surprise. 'On the Pointe du Hoc?'

'Nearby.' There was perhaps the faintest suggestion of Lowland Scottish, perhaps from the hard land of the Border, in his voice. 'The local paper suggested that he had come to Normandy for the D-Day gathering, on June 6th. But that was not so. He did not arrive until the afternoon of June 7th. The day of his tragic accident.' He repeated her words without commitment to them.

'Yes, Major?' She must not jump to conclusions. But tragic accidents in this line of country were generally neither tragic nor accidental; and it was only on the very cliff-edge of possibility that this elderly American had come half-way across the world to do alternatively what he could have done much more easily at home, on his own account.

"The newspaper reported him as staying at Bayeux. I traced him to a hotel there. I gave the clerk twenty francs, and he was on the phone before my back was properly turned. I went directly to the Pointe du Hoc. They took me as I was on my way back to Bayeux.'

'Took you?'

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'With the utmost courtesy, Miss Loftus. But without argument.'

She mustn't waste time trying to imagine that scene. 'What did they want?'

'They wanted to know what I was doing.'

Another silly question then. 'And what were you doing?' A hard man like Major Turnbull would have had a cover-story. 'You were stringing for PA? Or Agence-News Angleterre?'

'No, Miss Loftus. There was a DST man in attendance, so they already knew exactly who I was. A simple lie would only have invited trouble.'

That was interesting, though logical - that the Major had a European reputation before Colonel Butler had recruited him, and long before Mr Latimer had sent him back to France.

'So what was your complicated lie?'

He gave her Odin's stone face again, looking down on Grimeby from Baldersby Dale. 'In any period before or after Her Majesty the Queen has been invited to a foreign celebration, if there is a suspicious death we investigate it as a matter of routine, Miss Loftus.'

Phew! 'And what did they say to that?'

'There was nothing they could say. They could not deny that Her Majesty was there on June 6th, in Normandy. And they knew they couldn't question such a story without making an issue of it. Especially not after I'd reminded them of the Vive le IRA slogans they had failed to erase.'

Not bad at all, thought Elizabeth. 'When the safety of the Royal Family was involved, all foreigners expected John Bull to be at his most truculent. 'And they believed that?'

'No, Miss Loftus. If they had believed that I would have said so.' He paused, and as the pause lengthened she felt herself sucked into it.

'So what did - '

'If you will let me finish, Miss Loftus.' He cut her off smoothly. 'They pretended to believe me. And then they were uncommonly helpful and cooperative. They allowed me to interview three witnesses - two Frenchmen and an American youth. The Frenchman had been engaged in clearing up the area, after the previous day's ceremonies. The American youth was the grandson of an officer in one of their destroyers, which gave close support to the American troops who stormed the positon in 1944.' He paused again. 'I take it that dummy2

you are aware of what happened on the Pointe du Hoc, Miss Loftus?'

'Yes, Major.' It might be smarter to feign female ignorance, but there was a limit to what female flesh-and-blood could endure. "That would be D, E and F Companies of the 5th Rangers. And the destroyer was presumably the Satterlee.'