And I knew what he'd say. 'We've been making quite a noise in here,' said Ogilvie. 'Had a real shouting match. Well, that will add verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.
There's one thing about being in an organization of spies-news gets around fast. You may expect some comments from your colleagues; can you stand that?' I shrugged. 'I've never worried much about what people think of me.' 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Cregar discovered that when he first met you. All right; you'll have complete autonomy on this job.
You'll do it in the way you want to do it, but it will be a solo operation; you'll have all the assistance I can give you short of men.
You'll report your results to me and to no one else. And I do expect results.' He opened a drawer and took out a slim file. 'Now, as for Penny Ashton, I laid some groundwork which will possibly help you. As far as she knows you have been in America for the past few weeks. I hope you didn't write from Sweden.' 'I didn't.' 'Good. She has been tactfully informed that you have been away on some mysterious job that has debarred you from writing to her. Knowing what she thinks she knows about your work it should seem feasible to her. However, you were informed of her father's death through the department, and you sent this cable.' He passed the slip of paper across the desk. It was a genuine Western Union carbon copy emanating from Los Angeles. The content was trite and convention al, but it would have to do. Ogilvie said, 'You also arranged for wreaths at the funeral through a Los Angeles flower shop and Interflora. The receipt from the flower shop is in this file together with other bits and pieces which a man might expect to pick up on a visit and still retain. There are theatre ticket stubs for current shows in Los Angeles, some small denomination American bills, book matches from hotels, and so on. Empty your pockets.' The request took me by surprise and I hesitated. 'Come now,' he said. 'Dump everything on the desk.' I stripped my pockets. As I took out my wallet Ogilvie delved in the small change I had produced.
'You see,' he said in triumph, and held up a coin. 'A Swedish crown mixed with your English money. It could have been a dead giveaway.
I'll bet you have a couple of Swedish items in your wallet. Get rid of them.' He was right. There was a duplicate bar bill from the Grand which had yet to be transferred to my expense account, and a list of pound-kroner exchange rates made when I was trying to keep up with the vagaries of the falling pound sterling. I exchanged them for the Americana, and said, 'You were sure of me, after all.' 'Pretty sure,' he said dryly. 'You got back from the States yesterday. Here is your air ticket-you can leave it lying around conspicuously somewhere.
Penny Ashton, to the best of my knowledge, is coming back from Scotland tomorrow. You didn't buy any Swedish clothing?' 'No.' 'There are a couple of shirts and some socks in that small case over there.
Also some packets of cigarettes. All genuine American. Now, leave here, go back to your office and mope disconsolately. You've just been through the meat grinder and you can still feel the teeth. I expect Harrison will want to see you in about half an hour. Don't try to score any points off him; let him have his little triumph. Remember you're a beaten man, Malcolm-and good luck.' So I went back to the office and slumped behind my desk. Larry rustled his paper and avoided my eyes, but presently he said, 'I hear you were with the top brass all morning.' 'Yes,' I said shortly. 'Was Cregar there?' 'Yes.' 'Bad?'
'You'll know all about it soon,' I said gloomily. 'I don't think I'll be around here much longer.' 'Oh.' Larry fell silent for a while, then he turned a page and said, 'I'm sorry, Malcolm. It wasn't your fault.'
'Somebody has to get the axe.' 'Mmm. No, what I meant is I'm sorry about you and Penny. It's going to be difficult.' I smiled at him.
'Thanks, Larry. You're right, but I think I'll make out.' Ogilvie was right in his prediction. Within the hour Harrison rang and told me to report to his office. I went in trying to appear subdued and for once did not address him as Joe, neither did I sit down. He kept me standing. 'I understand from Mr. Ogilvie that you are leaving this section.' 'I understand so, too.' 'You are to report to Mr. Kerr tomorrow.' His eyes glinted with ill-suppressed joy. He had always thought me too big for my britches and now I was demoted to messenger-boy-thus are the mighty fallen. 'This is really very difficult, you know,' he said fretfully. 'I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to clean out your desk before you leave today. There'll be another man coming in, of course.' 'Of course,' I said colourlessly. 'I'll do that.' 'Right,' he said, and paused. I thought for a moment he was going to give me a homily on the subject of mending my ways, but all he said was, 'You may leave, Jaggard.' I went and cleared out my desk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN I trotted in to see Kerr next morning. He was one of several Section heads, but his Section was the only one to make a financial profit because, among other things, it ran the legitimate side of McCulloch and Ross, the bit the public knew about. It made a good profit, too, and so it ought; if it made a loss with all the professional expertise of the other sections behind it then Kerr ought to have been fired. Under Kerr also came several other miscellaneous bits and pieces including the couriers-the messenger-boys. He seemed somewhat at a loss as to how to deal with me. 'Ah, yes-Jaggard. I think I have something here for you.' He handed me a large, thick envelope, heavily sealed. 'I'm told you know where to deliver that. It appears that… er… delivery may take some time, so you may be absent for a period.' 'That's so.' 'I see,' he said blankly. 'Will you be needing desk space-an office?' 'No, I don't think so.' 'I'm glad.
We're tight for space.' He smiled. 'Glad to have you… er… with us,' he said uncertainly. I don't know what Ogilvie had told him but evidently he was baffled by my precise status. In my car I opened the envelope and found?1000 in used fivers. That was thoughtful of Ogilvie but, after all, I could hardly claim expenses in the normal way on this operation. I put the money in the special locker built under the front passenger seat and drove to the police station in Marlow where I asked for Honnister. He came out front to meet me. 'You haven't been around for a while,' he said, almost accusingly. 'I've been trying to get you.' 'I've been in the States for a few weeks.
What did you want me for?' 'Oh, just a chat,' he said vaguely. 'You must have been away when Ashton and Benson were killed in Sweden.'
'Yes, but I was told of it.' 'Funny thing, Ashton going away like that.' There was a glint in his eye. 'And then getting messily killed.
Makes a man wonder.' I took out a packet of cigarettes and offered it.
'Wonder what?' 'Well, a man like Ashton makes his pile by working hard and then, when he's still not too old to enjoy it, he suddenly gets dead.' He looked at the packet in my hand. 'No, I don't like American coffin nails. They take good Virginia tobacco, mix it with Turkish, then roast it and toast it and ultraviolet-ray it until it tastes like nothing on God's earth.' I shrugged. 'Everybody dies. And you can't take it with you, although they tell me Howard Hughes tried.' 'Seen Penelope Ashton?' 'Not yet.' I lit a cigarette although I didn't like them, either. 'I'll be going to the house. I hear she's expected back today. If she's not there I'll see Gillian anyway.' 'And she'll see you,' said Honnister. 'But only barely. I had a talk with Crammond. He tells me Mayberry hasn't been brought to trial, and it's not likely that he will. He's unfit to plead.' 'Yes, I know about that.'