He said: “Not likely to be any trouble in a spot like this is there?” Roger shook his head. “In that case, I’ll come back with you. Two will be safer than one if you’re going south.”
Roger thought about this for a moment. He said:
“Yes. O.K.”
“But you don’t know what it’s going to be like in London!” Ann said. “There may be rioting. Surely there can’t be anything important enough to make you take risks like that?”
“From now on,” Roger said, “if we’re going to survive we shall have to take risks. If you want to know, I’m going back for firearms. Things are breaking up faster than I thought they would. But there’s no danger back there this evening.”
Ann said: “I want you to stay, John.”
“Now, Ann…’ John began.
Roger broke in. “If we want to kill ourselves, wasting time in wrangling is as good a way as any. This party’s got to have a leader, and his word has got to be acted on as soon as it’s spoken. Toss you for it, Johnny.”
“No. It’s yours.”
Roger took a half-crown from his pocket. He spun it up.
“Call!”
They watched the twinkling nickel-silver. “Heads,” John said. The coin hit the metalled road and rolled into the gutter. Roger bent down to look at it.
“All yours,” he said. “Well?”
John kissed Ann, and then got out of the car. “We’ll be back as soon as possible,” he said.
Ann commented bitterly: “Are we chattels{77} again already?”
Roger laughed. “The world’s great age,” he said, “begins anew, the golden years return.”
“We can just make it,” Roger said. “He doesn’t put up the shutters until six. Only a little business—one man and a boy—but he’s got some useful stock.”
They were driving now through the chaos of rush-hour in Central London. On that chaos, the usual rough-and-ready pattern was imposed by traffic lights and white-armed policemen. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. As the lights turned green in front of their car, the familiar breaker of jaywalkers{78} swelled across the road.
“Sheep,” John said bitterly, “for the slaughter.”
Roger glanced at him. “Let’s hope they stay that way. See it clearly and see it whole. Quite a few millions have got to die. Our concern is to avoid joining them.”
Just past the lights, he pulled off the main street into a narrow side-street It was five minutes to six.
“Will he serve us?” John asked.
Roger pulled in to the kerb, opposite a little shop displaying sporting guns. He put the car in neutral, but left the engine running.
“He will,” he said, “one way or another.”
There was no one in the shop except the proprietor, a small hunched man, with a deferential salesman’s face and incongrously watchful eyes. He looked about sixty.
Roger said: “Evening, Mr Pirrie. Just caught you?”
Mr Pirrie’s hands rested on the counter. “Well—Mr Buckley, isn’t it? Yes, I was just closing. Anything I can get you?”
Roger said: “Well, let me see. Couple of revolvers, couple of good rifles with telescopic sights; and the ammo{79} of course. And do you stock automatics?”
Pirrie smiled gently. “Licence?”
Roger had advanced until he was standing on the other side of the counter from the old man. “Do you think it’s worth bothering about that?” he asked. “You know I’m not a gunman. I want the stuff in a hurry, and I’ll give you more than a fair price for it.”
Pirrie’s head shook slightly; his eyes did not leave Roger’s face.
“I don’t do that kind of business.”
“Well, what about that little .22 over there?”
Roger pointed. Pirrie’s eyes looked in the same direction, and as they did so, Roger leapt for his throat. John thought at first that the little man had caved in under the attack, but a moment later he saw him clear of Roger and standing back. His right hand held a revolver.
He said: “Stand still, Mr Buckley. And your friend. The trouble with raiding a gunsmiths is that you are likely to encounter a man who has some small skill in handling weapons. Please don’t interrupt me while I telephone.”
He had backed away until his free hand was near the telephone.
Roger said sharply: “Wait a minute. I’ve got something to offer you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Your life?”
Pirrie’s hand held the telephone handpiece, but had not yet lifted it. He smiled. “Surely not.”
“Why do you think I tried to knock you out? You can’t imagine I would do it if I weren’t desperate.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you on that,” Pirrie said politely. “I should not have let anyone else come so close to overpowering me, but one does not expect desperation in a senior Civil Servant. Not so violent a desperation, at least.”
Roger said: “We have left our families in a car just off the Great North Road. There’s room for another if you care to join us.”
“I understand,” Pirrie said, “that travel out of London is temporarily forbidden.”
Roger nodded. “That’s one reason we wanted the arms. We’re getting out tonight.”
“You didn’t get the arms.”
“Your credit, not my discredit,” Roger said, “and damn well you know it.”
Pirrie removed his hand from the telephone. “Perhaps you would care to give me a brief explanation of your urgent need for arms and for getting out of London.”
He listened, without interrupting, while Roger talked. At the end, he said softly:
“A farm you say, in a valley? A valley that can be defended?”
“By half a dozen,” John put in, “against an army.”
Pirrie lowered the revolver he held. “I had a telephone call this afternoon,” he said, “from the local Superintendent of Police. He asked me if I wanted a guard here. He seemed very concerned for my safety, and the only explanation he offered was that there were some silly rumours about, which might lead to trouble.”
“He didn’t insist on a guard?” Roger asked.
“No, I suppose there would have been the disadvantage that a police guard becomes conspicuous.” He nodded politely to Roger. “You will understand how I chanced to be so well prepared for you.”
“And now?” John pressed him. “Do you believe us?”
Pirrie sighed. “I believe that you believe it. Apart from that, I have been wondering myself if there were any reasonable way of getting out of London. Even without fully crediting your tale, I do not care to be compulsorily held here. And your tale does not strain my credulity as much, perhaps, as it ought. Living with guns, as I have done, one loses the habit of looking for gentleness in men.”
Roger said: “Right. Which guns do we take?”
Pirrie turned slightly, and this time picked up the telephone. Automatically, Roger moved towards him. Pirrie looked at the gun in his hand, and tossed it to Roger.
“I am telephoning to my wife,” he said. “We live in St John’s Wood. I imagine that if you can get two cars out, you can get three? The extra vehicle may come in useful.”
He was dialling the number. Roger said warningly:
“Careful what you say over that.”
Pirrie said into the mouthpiece: “Hello, my dear. I’m just preparing to leave. I thought it might be nice to pay a visit to the Rosenblums this evening—yes, the Rosenblums. Get things ready would you? I shall be right along.”
He replaced the receiver. “The Rosenblums,” he explained, “live in Leeds. Millicent is very quick to perceive things.”
Roger looked at him with respect. “My God, she must be! I can see that both you and Millicent are going to be very useful members of the group. By the way, we had previously decided that this kind of party needs a leader.”