Partridge studied the other two men while Humble scanned the letter. Robson was twenty-two, more heavily built than the lieutenant-colonel. Brown-haired, he also sported a moustache, straggly, and his whole manner was more relaxed. He sat with an arm stretched across the back of his chair and his expression was amiable. He reminded Partridge of a country doctor. Again, he looked older than his years.
Kearns was tall, thin, clean-shaven and hadn't moved a muscle since they entered the room. His brown eyes reminded Partridge of glass marbles. He sat very erect and his expression was bleak, his jaw clenched. All three men had skin tanned the colour of mahogany.
'I can still ask you some questions. I'm going to do just that. It's my job,' snapped Humble, pushing the letter back over the desk-top, the letter from GHQ signed by a general.
'Let's hurry it up, shall we?' Barrymore suggested in his silken tone. 'I'm beginning to get irked.'
'Unfortunately Ionides can no longer be irked. You have met him, of course? All of you? Seeing as you have your unit stationed in the same building?'
Humble's gaze swept over the three men. Nothing changed in Kearns'expression. Barry more tapped his small white teeth with the tip of his cane. It was Captain Robson who replied.
'Personally speaking, no. I gather he was stuck away up on the next floor. As far as I know I've never set eyes on the chap. Horrible business. Any clues – as to who did it?'
'The investigation is continuing.' Humble turned to Kearns who was studying Partridge like a hangman measuring him for the drop. Only twenty years old. Must be the youngest CSM in the British Army.
'What about you?'
The same as Captain Robson.' There was a snap in his voice. He'd be a bastard on the parade ground. Humble thought. It was the sheer immobility of Kearns which fascinated Humble. He looked at Barrymore.
'What about you, sir? I've heard there are special units which slip into Greece to help the Resistance there. And Ionides was Greek.'
'Rather an obvious observation. That last remark.' Barrymore made no attempt to conceal the sarcasm. 'No is the answer. And now, I think we've told you all we can. I'd prefer this interview to draw to a close. You've read that letter…'
'Which authorizes you not to answer any question affecting military security. No, I haven't quite finished. Colonel Barrymore. I understand the three of you returned to Cairo forty-eight hours ago. That means you were all in the city last night. Where were you between the hours of nine and eleven? Last night. And that has nothing to do with military security.'
'If you must know…' Barrymore sounded as though he were having trouble stifling a yawn. 'All three of us were getting some well-earned kip aboard a houseboat on the Nile. The location is top secret.'
'Any witnesses to confirm your story?'
Despite his tan, the hint of a flush of blood appeared on Barrymore's face. He stood up and Humble saw for the first time his khaki drill trousers were thrust into the tops of gleaming leather cavalry boots. Walking to the door, he opened it.
'I am not accustomed to being insulted in front of subordinates. May I suggest the interview is concluded? That you both leave now. If you please.'
Humble stood up, nodded to Partridge, and strode out of the room. The door closed behind them as they headed for the lift.
'Botched that one, didn't I?' observed Humble. 'Sprawled right into it. Gave him just the excuse he was looking for to chuck us out. What did you think of them?'
'Funny trio. I couldn't get it out of my mind there was a lot of tension under the surface.'
'Which there would be if they've just returned from some mission to the Greek islands. They're Special Operations Executive – and commandos to boot.'
'SOE? Then that explains…'
'It explains a lot,' Humble interjected as they ignored the lift and walked down the staircase. 'It explains why some flaming desk wallah of a general at Grey Pillars provides Barrymore with a letter giving total immunity from questioning. It explains why he could throw me out on my ear. And we can't check their alibi. That houseboat is where the SOE plan operations. It's called Tara. Don't know why – but it's off limits even to us.'
Partridge waited until they were settled inside the jeep before he asked his question. First he paid off the chief urchin of the gang guarding the vehicle. 'Not enough!' the urchin screeched. ' Imshi! Yallah!' Partridge bawled. They ran off, shouting obscenities.
'Did you notice Captain Robson qualified his statement that he'd never met Ionides? As far as I know I've never set eyes on the chap.'
'You spotted that, too? You're learning. Gives him an out if we came up with a witness who saw them talking together. Any idea how the murder was done?' he asked as he started the vehicle moving.
'From our visit in the night it seems impossible. The only way out is the front entrance – guarded by the Sudanese receptionist. Our people searched the place from top to bottom. No one there. All windows are barred. You can get out on to balconies from certain rooms on the upper floors. But you're thirty feet from the ground. Yet the killer had to be behind that locked door Higgins tried before he went into the next room.'
'And we found traces of blood in the bathroom. My bet is Higgins sat on that lavatory seat quite a long time. I can't say I blame him – but that was when the murderer was cleaning himself up before performing his vanishing trick.'
'Unless the Sudanese receptionist was bribed?' 'I talked with Selim. I've carried out enough interrogations in my time to know he wasn't lying. You know something. Partridge? I've a hunch we're not going to solve this one.'
'This is a bloody waste of time. You do know that?' Humble rapped out as he pulled the jeep into the kerb in front of the Antikhana Building. It was dark, the street was deserted.
Partridge checked his watch. 'Ten o'clock. The exact time Higgins arrived back on the night of the murder. I want to walk right round the outside first. Then go inside – just like Higgins did.'
'You're on your own, laddie. I'll wait here. And watch it at the back. The native quarter…'
Partridge jumped down on to the pavement and began walking slowly away from the entrance steps. Although it was dark there was plenty of light from the street lamps. He looked up as he walked, stared at the projecting balconies with their iron grilles.
It was very quiet. The only sound the smack of his shoes on stone. No one about. Probably it had been like this on the night of the murder. He turned the first corner of the building and the side street was a canyon of gloom. He unbuttoned his holster flap, felt the butt of his Service revolver. Butterflies in the stomach. The silence became oppressive, sinister.
He turned the next corner, walking more slowly, trying to make no sound. Across the narrow street to his right loomed the ramshackle tenements of the native quarter. Black as pitch now. He looked up again. The roof of the building was a blurred silhouette against a distant background of star-studded sky. He heard a scuffling sound and his hands were moist. A half-starved cat scuttled across the street.
Completing the circuit, he saw Humble leaning over the wheel, the red glow of a cigarette near his mouth. He mounted the steps, pressed the bell. An SIB sentry opened the right-hand door, Partridge showed his pass, went inside, nodded to the Sudanese behind the desk.
'No one in the building?' he asked the sentry.
'Yes, there is, sir. Colonel Barrymore is still in his office. Professor Guy Seton-Charles is also working late. And Sergeant Higgins is sitting on the staircase.'
'Why?'
'Better, maybe, sir, you ask him that yourself.'
The heavily built ex-tank commander was seated out of sight on the sixth step. Hunched forward, hands tightly clasped, he looked embarrassed and stood up as Partridge appeared.
'Sorry, sir. It's just that I can't go up there alone. I'm waiting for Clanger Wilson, my room-mate.'