'They could be right,' I said dryly. 'Who do I see at the Embassy?' 'A Second Secretary called Cutler. A toffee-nosed bastard.' The iron seemed to have entered Henty's soul. 'What resources can you draw on apart from the Embassy?' 'Resources!' Henty grinned. 'You're looking at the resources-me. I just have a watching brief-we're not geared for action.' 'Then it will have to be the Embassy.' He coughed, then said, 'Exactly who is Ashton?' I looked at him in silence until he said, 'If it's going to be like that…' 'It always is like that, isn't it?'
'I suppose so,' he said despondently. 'But I wish, just for once, that I knew why I'm doing what I'm doing.' I looked at my watch. 'There's just time to see Cutler. In the meantime you pin down Ashton and Benson. Report to me here or at the Embassy. And there's one very important thing-don't scare them.' 'Okay-but I don't think you'll get very much change out of Cutler.' I smiled. 'I wouldn't want either you or Cutler to bet on that one.' The Embassy was on Skarpogatan, and Cutler turned out to be a tall, slim, fair-haired man of about my age, very English and Old School Tie. His manner was courteous but rather distant as though his mind was occupied by other, and more important, considerations which a non-diplomat could not possibly understand.
This minor Metternich reminded me strongly of a shop assistant in one of the more snob London establishments. When I gave him my card-the special one-his lips tightened and he said coolly, 'You seem to be off your beat, Mr. Jaggard. What can we do for you?' He sounded as though he believed there was nothing he could possibly do for me. I said pleasantly, 'We've mislaid a bit of property and we'd like it back-with your help. But tact is the watchword.' I told him the bare and minimum facts about Ashton and Benson. When I'd finished he was a shade bewildered. 'But I don't see how…' He stopped and began again. 'Look, Mr. Jaggard, if this man decides to leave England with his manservant to come to Sweden and live under an assumed name I don't see what we can do about it. I don't think it's a crime in Swedish law to live under another name; it certainly isn't in England.
What exactly is it that you want?' 'A bit of manpower,' I said. 'I want Ashton watched. I want to know what he does and why he does it.'
'That's out of the question,' said Cutler. 'We can't spare men for police work of that nature. I really fail to see what your interest is in the man on the basis of what you've told me.' 'You're not entitled to know more,' I said bluntly. 'But take it from me-Ashton is a hot one.' 'I'm afraid I can't do that,' he said coldly. 'Do you really think we jump when any stranger walks in off the street with an improbable story like this?' I pointed to my card which was still on the blotter in front of him. 'In spite of that?' 'In spite of that,' he said, but I think he really meant because of it. 'You people amaze me. You think you're James Bonds, the lot of you. Well, I don't think I'm living in the middle of a highly coloured film, even if you do.' I wasn't going to argue with him. 'May I use your telephone?' He frowned, trying to think of a good reason for denial, so I added, 'I'll pay for the call.' 'That won't be necessary,' he said shortly, and pushed his telephone across the desk. One of our boffins once asked me what was the biggest machine in the world. After several abortive answers I gave up, and he said, 'The international telephone system. There are 450 million telephones in the world, and 250 million of them are connected by direct dialling-untouched by hand in the exchanges.' We may grouse about the faults of local systems, but in under ninety seconds I was talking to Ogilvie. I said, 'We have Ashton but there's a small problem. There's only one of Henty, and I can't push in too close myself.' 'Good. Get on to the Embassy for support.
We want him watched. Don't approach him yourself.' 'I'm at the Embassy now. No support forthcoming.' 'What's the name of the obstruction?'
'Cutler-Second Secretary.' 'Wait a moment.' There was a clatt er and I heard the rustle of papers in distant London. Presently Ogilvie said, 'This will take about half an hour. I'll dynamite the obstruction. For God's sake, don't lose Ashton now.' 'I won't,' I said, and hung up. I stood up and picked my card from Cutler's blotter. 'I'm at the Grand.
You can get me there.' 'I can't think of any circumstances in which I should do so,' he said distantly. I smiled. 'You will.' Suddenly I was tired of him. 'Unless you want to spend the next ten years counting paper clips in Samoa.' Back at the hotel there was a curt note from Henty: 'Meet me at the Moderna Museet on Skeppsholmen.' I grabbed a taxi and was there in five minutes. Henty was standing outside the main entrance, his hands thrust deep into his pockets and the tip of his nose blue with cold. He jerked his head at the gallery. 'Your man is getting a bit of culture.' This had to be handled carefully. I didn't want to bump into Ashton face to face. 'Benson there too?'
'Just Ashton.' 'Right. Nip in and locate him-then come back here.'
Henty went inside, no doubt glad to be in the warm. He was back in five minutes. 'He's studying blue period Picassos.' He gave me a plan of the halls and marked the Picasso Gallery. I went into the Museum, moving carefully. There were not many people in the halls on the cold winter's afternoon, which was a pity because there was no crowd to get lost in. On the other hand there were long unobstructed views. I took out my handkerchief, ready to muffle my face in case of emergency, turned a corner and saw Ashton in the distance. He was contemplating a canvas with interest and, as he turned to move on to the next one, I had a good sight of his face. To my relief this was Ashton. There would have been a blazing row if I had goosed Cutler to no purpose.
CHAPTER NINETEEN Cutler jumped like a startled frog. An hour later, when I was unfreezing my bones in a hot bath and feeling sorry for Henty who was still tagging Ashton, the telephone rang to announce that he was waiting in the hotel foyer. 'Ask him to come up.' I dried myself quickly and put on a dressing gown. He brought two men whom he introduced as Askrigg and Debenham. He made no apologies for his previous attitude and neither of us referred to it. All the time I knew him he maintained his icily well-bred air of disapproval; that I could stand so long as he did what he was told and did it fast, and I had no complaints about that. The only trouble was that he and his people were lacking in professionalism. We got down to business immediately. I outlined the problem, and Askrigg said, 'A full-time surveillance of two men is a six-man job.' 'At least,' I agreed. 'And that's excluding me and Henty. Ashton and Benson know me, so I'm out.
As for Henty, he's done enough. He spotted Ashton for us and has been freezing his balls off ever since keeping an eye on him. I'm pulling him out for a rest and then he'll be in reserve.' 'Six men,' said Cutler doubtfully. 'Oh, well, I suppose we can find them. What are we looking for?' 'I want to know everything about them. Where they go, what they eat, who they see, do they have a routine, what happens when they break that routine, who they write to-you name it, I want to know.' 'It seems a lot of fuss over a relatively minor industrialist,' sniffed Cutler. I grinned at him, and quoted, '"Yours not to reason why, yours but to do or die." Which could happen because they're probably armed.' That brought a moment of silence during which Cutler twitched a bit. In his book diplomacy and guns didn't go together. I said, 'Another thing: I want to have a look inside Ashton's apartment, but we'll check their routine first so we can pick the right moment.'
'Burglary!' said Cutler hollowly. 'The Embassy mustn't be involved in that.' 'It won't be,' I said shortly. 'Leave that to me. All right; let's get organized.' And so Ashton and Benson were watched, every movement noted. It was both wearisome and frustrating as most operations of this nature are. The two men led an exemplary life.