Julian said: “We thought afterwards that he must have had a sister himself, someone he knew would never let him down, would always be there.”
Rolf said impatiently: “Or else he thought he could show a little humanity and get paid for it by Miriam one way or the other.”
Miriam shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. He was trying to be kind. I asked him what would happen to Henry. He didn’t reply, but one of the SSP said, ‘What do you expect? But you’ll get his ashes.’ It was the captain of the SSP who told me that they could have picked him up when he landed but that they followed him all the way from Cumbria to Oxford. Partly to see where he’d go, I suppose, partly because they wanted to wait until he felt safe before they arrested him.”
Rolf said with bitter anger: “It was that refinement of cruelty which gave them an extra kick.”
“A week later the package arrived. It was heavy, like two pounds of sugar, and the same shape, done up in brown paper with a typed label. Inside was this plastic bag filled with white grit. It looked like garden fertilizer, nothing to do with Henry. There was just a typed note, no signature. ‘Killed while attempting to escape.’ Nothing else. I dug a hole in the garden. I remember that it was raining and when I poured the white grit into the hole it was as if the whole garden was crying. But I didn’t cry. Henry’s sufferings were over. Anything was better than being sent back to that island.”
Rolf said: “There’d be no question of sending him back, of course. They wouldn’t want anyone to know that it’s possible to get away. And it won’t be, not now. They’ll start patrolling the coast.”
Julian touched Theo’s arm and looked him full in the face. “They shouldn’t treat human beings like that. No matter what they’ve done, what they are, they shouldn’t treat people like that. We have to stop it.”
Theo said: “Obviously there are social evils, but they are nothing to what is happening in other parts of the world. It’s a question of what the country is prepared to tolerate as the price of sound government.”
Julian asked: “What do you mean by sound government?”
“Good public order, no corruption in high places, freedom from fear of war and crime, a reasonably equitable distribution of wealth and resources, concern for the individual life.”
Luke said: “Then we haven’t got sound government.”
“We may have the best that is possible in the circumstances. There was wide public support for setting up the Man Penal Colony. No government can act in advance of the moral will of the people.”
Julian said: “Then we have to change the moral will. We have to change people.”
Theo laughed. “Oh, that’s the kind of rebellion you have in mind? Not the system but human hearts and minds. You’re the most dangerous revolutionaries of all, or would be if you had the slightest idea how to begin, the slightest chance of succeeding.”
Julian asked, as if seriously interested in his answer: “How would you begin?”
“I wouldn’t. History tells me what happens to people who do. You have one reminder on that chain round your neck.”
She put up her distorted left hand and briefly touched the cross. Beside that swollen flesh it seemed a very small and fragile talisman.
Rolf said: “You can always find excuses for doing nothing. The fact is that the Warden runs Britain as his private fiefdom. The Grenadiers are his private army and the State Security Police are his spies and executioners.”
“You’ve no proof of that.”
“Who killed Miriam’s brother? Was that execution after a proper trial or secret murder? What we want is real democracy.”
“With you at the head of it?”
“I’d make a better job of it than he does.”
“I imagine that’s exactly what he thought when he took over from the last Prime Minister.”
Julian said: “So you won’t speak to the Warden?”
Rolf broke in. “Of course he won’t. He never intended to. It was a waste of time getting him here. Pointless, stupid and dangerous.”
Theo said quietly: “I haven’t said I won’t see him. But I’ve got to take him more than hearsay, particularly as I can’t even tell him where and how I’ve got my information. Before I give you a decision I want to see a Quietus. When is the next one due to be held? Does anyone know?”
It was Julian who replied. “They’ve stopped advertising them, but of course the news does get round in advance. There’s a female Quietus in Southwold this Wednesday, in three days’ time. It’s off the pier, north of the town. D’you know the town? It’s about eight miles south of Lowestoft.”
“That’s not very convenient.”
Rolf said: “Not for you, maybe. But it is for them. No railway so they won’t get crowds, a long drive so people wonder if it’s worth the petrol just to see Granny despatched in a white nightie to the sound of ‘Abide With Me.’ Oh, and there’s just the one access by road. They can control how many people attend, keep an eye on them. If there’s trouble they can pick up the people responsible.”
Julian asked: “How long must we wait before you report back?
“I’ll decide whether to see the Warden immediately after the Quietus. Then we’d better wait for a week and arrange a meeting.”
Rolf said: “Leave it for a fortnight. If you do see the Warden, they may put a watch on you.”
Julian asked: “How will you let us know whether you’ve agreed to see him?”
“I’ll leave a message after I’ve seen the Quietus. Do you know the Cast Museum in Pusey Lane?”
Rolf said: “No.”
Luke said eagerly: “I do. It’s part of the Ashmolean, an exhibition of plaster casts and marble copies of Greek and Roman statues. We used to be taken there during art class at school. I haven’t been there for years. I didn’t even know that the Ashmolean was keeping it open.”
Theo said: “There’s no particular reason to close it. It doesn’t require much supervision. A few elderly scholars occasionally drift in. The opening hours are on the board outside.”
Rolf was suspicious. “Why there?”
“Because I like to visit it occasionally and the attendant is used to seeing me. Because it provides a number of accessible hiding places. Mainly because it’s convenient for me. Nothing else about this enterprise is.”
Luke said: “Where exactly will you leave the message?”
“On the ground floor, the right-hand wall, under the head of the Diadoumenos. The catalogue number is C38 and you’ll find that on the bust. If you can’t remember the name, you can remember the number, presumably. If you can’t, then write it down.”
Julian said: “It’s Luke’s age, that makes it easy. Will we have to lift the statue?”
“It’s not a statue, merely a head, and you needn’t touch it. There’s a very narrow gap between the base and the shelf. I’ll leave my answer on a card. It won’t be incriminating, a simple yes or no. You could telephone me for it, but no doubt you believe that might be unwise.”
Rolf said: “We try never to telephone. Even though we haven’t got started yet, we take normal precautions. Everyone knows that the lines are tapped.”
Julian asked: “And if your answer is yes, and the Warden agrees to see you, when will you let us know what he says, what he promises to do?”
Rolf broke in: “Better leave it for at least two weeks. Report on Wednesday, fourteen days after the Quietus. I’ll meet you on foot anywhere in Oxford, an open space might be best.”
Theo said: “Open spaces can be watched through binoculars. Two people, obviously meeting, in the middle of a park, meadow or university park draw attention to themselves. A public building is safe. I’ll meet Julian in the Pitt Rivers Museum.”
Rolf said: “You appear to like museums.”