Here Be Monsters

'He thinks I'm not up to… whatever this is.' If he was fishing, then she could fish also. 'He showed me a cutting from the Daily Telegraph.'

'God bless my soul!' But his surprise wasn't quite genuine. 'Well… I must admit that I taught him to read his newspapers thoroughly…'

On second thoughts, she had no need to fish. He was supposed to be helping her, not vice-versa. 'Why are we here, David?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Didn't you read my note? What have you been doing, Elizabeth?'

'I was told to speak to Major Turnbull first. About the man Parker - the man in the Daily Telegraph.'

' Ah! The eyebrow dropped. 'And getting information out of the equivocal Major was like squeezing blood out of that proverbial stone?' He nodded sympathetically. 'So what did he have to say, then?'

'He said - ' Elizabeth stopped suddenly, first because she realized that she couldn't afford to let vice-versa work like this, with her answering all the questions, and then because someone was heading directly towards them across the foyer.

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'Dr Audley?' It was one of the two beautifully-tailored and coiffured receptionists from the marble desk. 'Dr Audley, Sir Peter will see you now.' The woman smiled her practised reception-smile at him, simultaneously taking in Elizabeth, pricing her from head to toe, and adding a nuance of apology to her smile on the basis of her combined estimation of their importance.

'Eh?' Audley frowned into her politeness. 'What?'

'Sir Peter, Dr Audley - ' She faltered under his frown ' - Sir Peter will see you now.'

'Ah - hmm…' Audley's face became a mask of vague intransigence, for which his somewhat battered features were well-suited. 'Right. Then you just tell Sir Peter that we'll see him in five minutes - right?'

The woman's own face, at least above the pasted smile, registered something like consternation. It was as though, as a junior archangel at the Gates of Heaven, she had said Saint Peter will see you now, only to discover that she had been addressing some Old Testament prophet who rated her master as just another newcomer.

But then she rallied. 'Sir Peter is a very busy man, Dr Audley.'

'And so am I.' The intransigence was not so much vague as blandly and brutally confident.

'Five minutes, tell him - right?'

The hate above the woman's smile was almost tangible. 'Yes, Dr Audley. If - if you would take the left-hand lift… when you are ready?'

"Thank you.' Audley turned back to Elizabeth. 'Now, Miss Loftus - as you were saying - ?'

Elizabeth watched the receptionist's retreating back, outwardly stiffened, but inwardly slumped. He would never have dared to treat Mrs Harlin like that.

'I was going to say… I was going to say that you are a nig sometimes, David - to quote your wife.'

'Only when it is necessary - to quote Tsar Alexander, Elizabeth.'

'But I was late, you said. So it wasn't her fault.'

'You were late - and she's paid to handle awkward bastards like me. And we're paid to do what I'm doing now, actually.'

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'Which is not telling me a damn thing?'

'We haven't time for that now - which is tactics, Elizabeth.' He glanced towards the lifts, and so did she. There were three of them, and there were people waiting outside two of them, on the right. But no one was waiting outside the left-hand one, which was open and empty.

'What tactics?'

'What tactics?' He came back to her. 'Getting an interview with Sir Peter Barrie was a slice of luck to start with, because he probably spends half his life jetting somewhere, first-class.

Like this morning, for instance, Elizabeth.'

'This morning?'

'He was booked to Cairo this morning, top security. Because Xenophon's got a deal going with the Egyptians, so my Israeli friends tell me. But when his old friend -his very old friend - who, quite surprisingly, is me… when his old friend phones him up this morning, first his secretary says he's a busy man, and hard luck… But then she phones me back and says he has got maybe a few spare minutes, between one pressing matter and another. And that begins to interest his old friend, Elizabeth. And then you're quite unconscionably late.

But he's still got time to spare. And that might also be luck. But I think I've had all the luck I can reasonably expect already. So that interests me even more. So I'm just pushing my luck for another five minutes, do you see?' He smiled hideously at her. 'Besides which I really would like to know what Major Turnbull said about Mr Edward Parker, Elizabeth.'

'And I'd like to know what Squadron Leader Thomas has to do with Xenophon Oil, David.'

He nodded. 'Fair enough. And the answer is - absolutely nothing, so far as I know.' He looked at her. 'So now I get my answer - fair?'

It wasn't in the least fair. But, unfair or not, she needed Audley more than he needed her.

'He thinks Parker was murdered.'

This time the look was elongated. 'Yes…' Then he nodded again. 'Yes… although he didn't say quite as much in his report. But then he has this thing - this psychological block, would it be? - about unveiling his opinions in print.' He cocked an eye at her. 'But if he says that was the way of it, then we had both better believe it… And that justified dear Oliver St John Latimer taking me away from more important matter, I suppose.'

More important matters? There was a display of time spanning Xenophon's international, dummy2

intercontinental, world-wide operations, electronically illustrated over a huge spinning globe in the middle of the foyer, continuously red for this minute of British Summertime, and green for Xenophon's own communications satellite, as it fulfilled its function from the North Slope of Alaska to the China Sea. But Elizabeth felt only the pressure of the red numbers adjusting their verticals and horizontals as her own lifespan was counted.

'Good God!' exclaimed Audley, looking past her. ' Razzak!'

The emphasis twisted her towards the direction of his attention. 'What?'

'Razzak!' This time he only murmured the name, but took a half-step sideways as he did so. 'Well, well! Hullo there?

There had been people there, in the doorway, where the doors had been hissing them in and out all the time as they had been talking. But now there was a large Arab there, transfixed by Audley's glance.

'Hah!' The man's hesitation was lost in his slight change of direction. 'David - of all people!

What black mischief are you up to here?'

'My dear fellow - not the same as yours, I hope!' Audley completed the step. 'I didn't even know you were in London - ' He broke off as the same receptionist whom he had bullied came out of nowhere to intercept the Arab.

'General?' The same welcoming smile was there, but it was a desperate smile, bereft of both hope and confidence. 'General Razzak?'

The Arab turned towards the woman. 'Madame… I have an appointment with Colonel Saunders. But it was made very recently, by telephone, so I quite appreciate any delay. So I will wait here - ' He flicked a glance towards the entrance, which was now partially obscured by two large men who were patrolling the steps at different levels, admiring the view ' - until the Colonel is free?'

'Ah - ' began Audley.

'A moment, David - ' The Arab held up a mutilated hand. ' -I am at your service, Madame.'

'Oh - yes, General.' The effort of not looking at Audley embarrassed the woman, 'Colonel Saunders will see you now. If you will go to the right-hand lift, General. Level Six.'

'Thank you, Madame.' The Arab bowed. 'That is most kind of you. After I have transacted the common courtesies with this gentleman I will go directly to Level Six. And meanwhile, dummy2

if you could report my arrival to my embassy? Would that be possible?'

'Of course, General. Immediately.'

'Thank you.' The Arab smiled sweetly at her, and then cased the foyer for a second time as she returned to the desk. "The Libyans have put a price on my head, so I have to take these boring precautions, David - please forgive me.'