'David, what on earth are you talking about?' Faith's face, turned towards her husband for the first time, seemed thinner and whiter in the candlelight.
'That's your cue, love,' said Audley. 'In a moment you're going to start disapproving of me. So will Hugh. Or on second thoughts maybe Hugh won't. Hugh's a downier bird than they think – not just an overgrown ex-fighter pilot with a crafty streak. I think Hugh's smelt a rat too.'
A rat, certainly. But what sort of rat?
'Hugh's not talking, very sensibly, love. And Major Butler's not talking either now! Perhaps I'm being rather unfair to Butler, though. He's only doing his job.'
'Unfair?' The irritation was plain in Faith's voice. 'Aggravating and pompous. And under the circumstances callous too, I think.'
'There – you've started to disapprove.' Audley's sudden enjoyment dummy2
of the situation was aggravating: this was the old Audley, one maddening step ahead of the play and relishing the fact. Again, it was all very well for Audley to enjoy himself; Butler hadn't come for him.
Or had he?
It flashed across Roskill's mind that Audley was now behaving exactly as he himself had done when Butler calmly cancelled Snettisham: wriggling in the snare. But Audley was an altogether more formidable creature. When it came to traps he would be a wolverine, almost untrappable...
'You never did finish your story about the hounds of Hell, David, did you?' Roskill murmured. 'I take it that the rake was lucky: the hounds passed him by and he turned into a prodigal? The question is, which of us are the hounds going to take?'
Audley smiled appreciatively. 'You were just a touch slow there, Hugh, but you got there in the end. I think they were after me all the time, don't you?'
Faith looked from one to the other of them. 'What hounds?'
Roskill watched Butler. 'What David means, Faith, is that Jack there could just as easily have waited for me at home if he wanted to preserve my beard. More easily, in fact. But instead he had to come here and tell you all about it, and make a great performance of it, when strictly speaking he shouldn't have done so at all.
' And normally he wouldn't have done. But he did – didn't you, honest Jack? Because it wasn't me you wanted at all. It was David!'
Butler lifted his chin. 'Audley can help. It's as simple as that.'
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'Well, why the bloody hell – pardon, Faith – can't you ask him straight out?'
'Simple again. He might have refused.'
'No one gives orders to him any more? Are you an over-mighty subject now, David?'
'No "might" about it. I have refused. In this matter I am an over-mighty subject, as it happens. Llewelyn can stew in his own juice...'
'David!' Faith was outraged. 'You can't say that, not when someone wants to murder him – not when they've already murdered Alan Jenkins. Don't you want to catch the people who did that?'
Audley shook his head at her. 'Faith, love – can't you see that's what you're supposed to say to me? Can't you understand that nobody's ever going to catch whoever booby-trapped Llewelyn's car? He'll be away and long gone. And even if he wasn't, and we caught him, then we'd only have some stupid devil who thought he was doing his patriotic duty.
'And that wouldn't stop them blowing up Llewelyn if they're set on it, any more than it would bring young Jenkins back to life. And they don't want me to avenge Jenkins, anyway – no one's ever going to do that.'
No one would do that, no matter what, thought Roskill bitterly. No one could avenge an accidental death.
'But if they find out why it was done they can still save Llewelyn,'
said Butler. 'You can help there.'
'You can't refuse, David,' said Faith.
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'I'm not supposed to have any choice, and that's a fact. Your tender social conscience and Hugh's special relationship with Jenkins are designed to weight the scales – just what was so special about Jenkins, Hugh?'
Coming from almost any other man it would have been offensive in its implication. But Audley was curiously naive about such things, and prudish too. He meant exactly what he had said, and if he had suspected anything else he wouldn't have spoken at all; Roskill simply wouldn't have been sitting at dinner with him.
But it was none of his business nevertheless, and it was on the tip of Roskill's tongue to say so when he glimpsed Faith's face, stricken with ludicrous embarrassment; she was all of fifteen years younger than her husband, but a million years older in this – the embarrassment was for his naivete, not for any homosexual tendencies Roskill might possess.
Ludicrous, though – and how Alan would have laughed at it, with his obsessive pursuit of dolly girls who needed no pursuing!
He had to take pity on her.
'Nothing like that, Faith. Jenkins was a friend of mine. I got him into the service.'
That would have to do. It was as much as the service knew, anyway. The private guilt and grief was all his own – his own and Isobel's . . .
'Hugh – I'm sorry. But it wasn't your fault.'
Not his fault. An accident. Nothing they could do about it and he never knew what hit him. Epitath for both the Jenkins brothers.
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One way or another he'd done for them both now.
But this was mere self-pity. The important thing now was somehow to succeed where Butler had failed: to do what the bastards wanted him to do – to involve Audley. And that could never be done by moral blackmail, or not so crudely anyway. Nor could it be done while both of them were still in the dark.
'I know it isn't my fault. It isn't David's either, so you might as well let him off the hook. Just tell us this, Jack: am I still in on things, or was I just the sprat to catch the mackerel?'
'They want both of you.'
It might be true. Or it might be that Butler was still trying to catch the mackerel.
'They'll just have to make do with me then.' He couldn't risk winking at Butler, with Audley sitting directly ahead of him. More likely neither of them would see it in the candlelight, anyway. 'Just tell me what Llewelyn is up to that might make a target of him.'
Butler shook his head slowly. 'That's the rub, Hugh. Apparently Llewelyn isn't up to anything.'
'Nonsense!' Audley exploded. 'Llewelyn isn't the sort of man who is ever up to nothing. He isn't capable of doing nothing.'
Faith said: 'But you said you didn't know anything about him.'
'I said I hadn't met him for years. Until last year I'd forgotten about him, and when I came up with him again it was too late to take precautions. He'd got me kicked out of the Middle Eastern group.'
Roskill looked at him incredulously. Audley had been the brains of that group and virtually a law unto himself. And under Sir dummy2
Frederick's special protection.
'Nobody told you that, did they, Hugh? Come to think of it, why does everyone think I transferred to the European section? What do people say about it?'
Roskill strove to rearrange his thoughts. The rumour was that Audley had been miffed at having his warnings ignored, and that after the Aden withdrawal he had schemed diligently to manoeuvre himself out of an area in which there was no longer either credit or honour to be gained.
'They say you were – prudent,' he replied cautiously.
'I abandoned a sinking ship, did I?' Audley smiled bitterly.
'It was thoughtful of Fred to put that around – better for my image!
But actually I was sacked – kicked upstairs and promoted out of Llewelyn's way. I asked too many awkward questions and gave too many inconvenient answers.'
So Llewelyn was definitely Middle East; it had been on the cards from the moment Audley had been involved.
'I can't think how I didn't meet up with him much earlier. He must have kept very quiet until he was sure the power was in his hands.
Then – wham! I think he damn near convinced the J.I.C. diat I was an Israeli agent.'