"In London?" George asked.
"Yes, in London. Initially our agents had no idea of who he was, but as I'm sure you know it's standard procedure to take photographs, and as soon as we compared them and a description with our files, we were in no doubt as to who he was."
"So you stopped tailing him," Agnes suggested helpfully. George made a little annoyed grunt. She ignored it; I've been wounded already in this battle, brother. That makes a difference.
"No, not entirely. A full-scale round-the-clock watch obviously wasn't either necessary or appropriate, but we did something to monitor his movements."
Sir Bruce asked: "Did he notice what you were up to?"
Oh, I love thatnotice. Agnes smiled at the old warrior, and then at Husband: by now, her anger at him had distilled to the warming spirit of pure hatred.
"I believe he was lost from time to time, but that of course is inevitable in a down-market operation. We had no positive indication that he was aware of our interest until yesterday morning."
He paused to relight his pipe. Everybody waited patiently. The Assistant Secretary put a large floppy handbag on the table and took out a small handkerchief. Her security pass was clipped to the strap of the bag, like a paddock pass on a racecourse.
"Major Maxim lives alone. His life seems to have no particular routine apart from his work. That night we had two watchmen outside, just in case. He came out very early, as soon as it was light – about half past five – and drove off to Acton. Acton. You may or may not be familiar with Acton, one gets a glimpse of it from the train, but it largely consists of railway yards, goods depots, great piles of broken-up cars. All rather like a battlefield. "
Agnes felt Sir Bruce, stir beside her.
"With hindsight, we now see that our soldier friend was in fact leading our agents into his own sort of country. The two watchmen were in a van, radio-equipped of course, but unfortunately the particular area was under some overheadpower cables which badly affect radio for some distance around."
Sir Bruce nodded contentedly.
"In short, Major Maxim lured our watchers into this place and then ambushed them. The driver waspistol whipped, as I believe our Big Brothers call it, and left dazed and with the radio smashed -beyond repair. The other was kidnapped. He was held at gunpoint, handcuffed, blindfolded and forced into the boot of Major Maxim's car. I can understand soldiers being allowed to play with guns, but I would like to know where he got those handcuffs. "
Nobody could think where until Scott-Scobie said cheerily: "Buy 'em all over, gun shops and so on. Big item in the FD market."
"The what?" George asked.
"Female domination. Whips and bonds."
"Good God."
Scott-Scobie grinned. "Do geton, Guy."
"Yes… then he was driven for, he estimates, about half an hour. He was taken out, in some quiet place, out of doors, and questioned. Or rather, tortured. He was told to say just who he was working for, or he would have ammonia poured onto the blindfold. I assume you all know what raw ammonia does to the eyesight? Bank robbers used to use it quite freely, I believe. You can go blind."
The room was quiet except for a hidden fan that suddenly interrupted its humming with a series of squeaks like somebody rubbing his shoes together. Sladen bent carefully back in his chair and frowned at the ceiling.
"Our man could smell the ammonia," Husband said slowly. "He described quite graphically – to me personally – how he felt with it seeping through the blindfold and beginning to sting and then burn at his eyes so that he was finally forced to open them in order to blink. I do not want to hear anything like that again. Major Maxim then told him that there was no special hurry and that he was to take his time and make his statement complete. I understand that he made it complete."
He paused deliberately.
"As soon as we got him to a doctor-which took sometime – it was discovered that Major Maxim must have held the ammonia under our man's nose while pouring some odourless spirit – quite possibly strong vodka – onto the blindfold in order to produce the stinging sensation."
"At school," Sir Bruce said reminiscently, "they taught me you could go blind from masturbation, never mind ammonia."
"How fascinating. I hate to think what Major Maxim got taught in school-or would it have been the Army?"
"Couldn't say, dear boy, but we do encourage young officers to think creatively."
Husband sat back in his chair and began lighting his pipe for the third time. Sladen looked at George, who reluctantly sat up a bit straighter, and said: "Until your chap did talk, I imagine Major Maxim thought he was being followed by a bunch of Kremlin cowboys."
"I don't see why," Husband said. "Any man with access to sensitive information, such as Major Maxim, should expect to be put under surveillance purely as a matter of routine. By Special Branch, or by a positive vetting team from Defence, or even Miss Algar's own service could quite legitimately decide to check up on his private life. I'm sureshe wouldn't have taken the matter lightly if it had been her own colleagues who had been beaten up and tortured. Nor do I imagine that Number 10would have been overjoyed if it had been some young detective constable."
"I agree he acted hastily -"
"He acted very deliberately and to a plan. The ammonia proves it."
"Let's say that he should have come to me first," George said in a heavy, measured tone, "and let me sort the whole thing out. I assume that your service would immediately have acknowledged responsibility?"
"Of course."
Liar, Agnes thought. But George had to accept it.
"Very well. But what do you want now? – for me to send him round to say sorry?"
"We'd certainly like him sent round, but to say a little more than sorry."
"Such as what?"
"We would like to know what connection he has or had with the target of the original surveillance."
Sir Bruce leant forward so that he could see past Agnes to George, but didn't say anything.
George said: "Major Maxim is still working to the Private Office."
"If he was working for the Private Office in South London on the afternoon in question I should be very surprised indeed. '
"Whereabouts in South London?"
"Rotherhithe."
Sladen was looking from George to Husband and back again, twitching his head from side to side like a tennis umpire. There was a ball being knocked back and forth, all right, but only Husband and, Agnes now realised, George knew what it was.
"Who is your target?" George asked.
Husband paused, cocked his head slightly and peered at George as if he were assessing his artistic value. "Are you quite certain you don't know?"
The room tensed, but George shrugged and let it go past, perhaps admitting that was a ball he couldn't reach.
Sladen waited nervously for somebody to say something, then asked tentatively: "Well… if we aren't to discoverwho, is it possible to find out something aboutwhy T'
Why so nervous? Agnes wondered, then suddenly realised. As a number two to the Cabinet Secretary, who was the most powerful of all civil servants, Sladen's career was almost in orbit. One final boost and he would be up among the true stars, all guidance systems go for a seat in the House of Lords upon retirement. But final-stage rockets had misfired before, and at a time when people were whispering about a change of Prime Minister and the shake-out that would bring, the very last thing Sladen must want was to be caught up in a brawl between Number 10, the Foreign Office, Defence and the secret services. That way lay nothing but the chairmanship of a minor merchant bank.
"I think Guy might fill in some of the background," Scott-Scobie agreed.