Colonel Morton said, ‘You mean Henty acted on his own initiative?’
‘I do. It all happened within a matter of, say, twenty seconds. At the time Benson was killed I was trying to help Ashton.’
Morton leaned forward. ‘Now, think carefully, Mr Jaggard. My men are not in the habit of leaving bodies carelessly strewn about the landscape. What reason did Henty give for shooting Benson?’
‘Self-defence. He said Benson was shooting at him, so he shot back.’
Colonel Morton leaned back and appeared satisfied, but Cregar said to the company at large, ‘This man, Benson, seems to be acting more and more out of character. Here we have an old age pensioner behaving like Billy the Kid. I find it unbelievable.’
Ogilvie dipped his fingers into a waistcoat pocket and put something on the table with a click. ‘This is a round of 9 mm parabellum found in Benson’s room in Marlow. It would fit the pistol found with Benson’s body. And we know that the bullet recovered from Ashton’s body came from that pistol. We got that from the Swedes.’
‘Precisely,’ said Cregar. ‘All you know is what the Swedes told you. How much is that really worth?’
‘Are you suggesting that Benson did not kill Ashton?’ asked Morton. There was a note of sourness in his voice.
‘I consider it highly unlikely,’ said Cregar.
‘I don’t employ men who are stupid enough to lie to me,’ said Morton, in a voice that could cut diamonds. ‘Henty said he saw Benson kill Ashton, and I believe him. All the evidence we have heard so far does not contradict that.’
Ogilvie said, ‘Unless Lord Cregar is suggesting that my department, Colonel Morton’s department and Swedish Army Intelligence are in a conspiracy to put the blame for Ashton’s death on Benson and so shield the killer.’ His voice was filled with incredulity.
The uniformed commander guffawed and Cregar flushed. ‘No,’ he snapped. ‘I’m just trying to get to the bottom of something damned mysterious. Why, for instance, should Benson shoot Ashton?’
‘He is not here to be asked,’ said the Minister coolly. ‘I suggest we stop this chasing of hares and address ourselves to Mr Jaggard.’
The Commander leaned forward and talked to me around Ogilvie. ‘I’m Pearson - Special Branch. This Swedish operation isn’t my bailiwick but I’m interested for professional reasons. As I take it, Mr Ogilvie did not want Ashton to become aware that British Intelligence was taking note of him. Do you know why?’
That was a tricky one because I wasn’t supposed to know who Ashton really was. I said, ‘I suggest you refer that question to Mr Ogilvie.’
‘Quite so,’ said the Minister. ‘It involves information to which Mr Jaggard is not privy.’
‘Very well,’ said Pearson. ‘At the same time he wanted Ashton out of Sweden because the Russians had become attracted, so he put pressure on Ashton by having a man pretend to be Russian and thus “explode Ashton out of Sweden”, as he has put it. What I don’t understand is why this kidnapping attempt in Strängnäs was necessary. Why did you try it?’
I said, ‘They took tickets from Stockholm to Göteborg. That was all right with me. I intended to shepherd them along and, if they took ship from Göteborg to find out where they were going. The important thing was to get them out from under the Russians in Sweden. But when they gave us the slip and went to Strängnäs it became something more complex than a discreet escort operation. Stronger measures were necessary as sanctioned by Mr Ogilvie.’
‘I see,’ said Pearson. ‘That was the point I misunderstood.’
‘I misunderstood something, too,’ said Cregar. ‘Are we to assume that your instructions precluded the disclosure of yourself to Ashton?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet according to what I’ve been told you did so. We have been informed by Mr Ogilvie this morning that you showed yourself to him deliberately. It was only when he saw you that he turned back. Is that not so?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘So you disobeyed orders.’
I said nothing because he hadn’t asked a question, and he barked, ‘Well, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see. You admit it. Now, with all respect to Colonel Morton’s trust in the truthfulness of his staff, I’m not satisfied by the somewhat misty evidence presented here that Benson shot Ashton; but the fact remains that Ashton was shot by someone, and it is highly likely that he was shot because he turned back. In other words, he died because you disobeyed an order not to disclose yourself.’ His voice was scathing. ‘Why did you disobey the order?’
I was seething with rage but managed to keep my voice even. ‘The idea was not to kill Ashton but to bring him out alive. At that time he was going into grave danger. There was heavy fire in that part of the forest where he was heading - machine-guns and mortars, together with rifle fire. Just what was going on I didn’t know. It seemed imperative to stop him and he did stop and started to come back. That he was shot by Benson came as a complete shock.’
‘But you don’t know he was shot by Benson,’ objected Cregar.
The Minister tapped with his pen. ‘We have already been over that ground. Lord Cregar.’
‘Very well.’ Cregar regarded me and said silkily, ‘Wouldn’t you say that your conduct of this whole operation, right from the beginning, has been characterized by, shall we say, a lack of expertise?’
Ogilvie bristled. ‘What Mr Jaggard has done has been on my direct instruction. You have no right or authority to criticize my staff like this. Address your criticisms to me, sir.’
‘Very well, I will,’ said Cregar. ‘Right at the beginning I objected to your putting Jaggard on this case, and all the…’
‘That’s not my recollection,’ snapped Ogilvie.
Cregar overrode him. ‘…all the events since have proved my point. He let Ashton slip from under his nose at a time when he had free access to Ashton’s home. That necessitated the Swedish operation which he has also botched, and botched for good, if I may say so, because Ashton is now dead. As for claiming that all he did was on your direct instructions, you have just heard him admit to disobeying your orders.’
‘He used his initiative at a critical time.’
‘And with what result? The death of Ashton,’ said Cregar devastatingly. ‘You have expounded before on the initiative of this man. I wasn’t impressed then, and I’m still less impressed now.’
‘That will be enough,’ said the Minister chillily. ‘We will have no more of this. Are there any more questions for Mr Jaggard? Questions that are both simple and relevant, please.’ No one spoke, so he said, ‘Very well, Mr Jaggard. That will be all.’
Ogilvie said in an undertone, ‘Wait for me outside.’
As I walked to the door Cregar was saying, ‘Well, that’s the end of the Ashton case - after thirty long years. He was a failure, of course; never did come up to expectations. I suggest we drop it and get on to something more productive. I think…’
What Cregar thought was cut off by the door closing behind me.
They came out of committee twenty minutes later. Ogilvie stuck his head into the ante-room. ‘Let’s have lunch,’ he proposed. He didn’t seem too depressed at what had happened, but he never did show much emotion.
As we were walking along Whitehall he said, ‘What do you think?’
I summoned a hard-fought-for smile. ‘I think Cregar doesn’t like me.’
‘Did you hear what he said as you were leaving?’
‘Something about the Ashton case being over, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. Ashton is buried and that buries the Ashton case. He’s wrong, you know.’
‘Why?’
‘Because from now on until everything is accounted for and wrapped up you are going to work full time on the Ashton case.’ He paused, then said meditatively, ‘I wonder what we’ll find.’
TWENTY-SIX
In view of what had been said at the meeting Ogilvie’s decision came as a profound surprise. The worst possib
ility that had come to mind was that I would be fired; drummed out of the department after my special card had been put through the office shredding machine. The best that occurred to me was a downgrading or a sideways promotion. I had the idea that Ogilvie had not been entirely joking when he had spoken of the Hebrides. That he was carrying on with the Ashton case, and putting me in charge, gave me a jolt. I wondered how he was going to make it stick with the Minister.
He told me. ‘The Minister won’t know a damned thing about it.’ He gave me a wintry smile. ‘The advantage of organizations like ours is that we really are equipped to work in secret.’
This conversation took place in the privacy of his office. He had refused to speak of the case at all after dropping his bombshell and the luncheon conversation had been innocuous. Back at the office he plunged into the heart of it.
‘What I am about to do is unethical and possibly mutinous,’ he said. ‘But, in this case, I think I’m justified.’
‘Why?’ I asked directly. If I was going to be involved I wanted to know the true issues.
‘Because someone has done a conjuring trick. This department has been deceived and swindled. Who organized the deception is for you to find out - it may have been Ashton himself, for all we know. But I want to know who organized it, and why.’
‘Why pick me? As Cregar made plain, I’ve not done too well up to now.’
Ogilvie raised his eyebrows. ‘You think not? You’ve satisfied me, and I’m the only man who matters. There are several reasons why I’ve picked you. First, you’re the totally unexpected choice. Secondly, you are still the inside man in the Ashton family. Thirdly, I have complete confidence in you.’
I stood up and went to the window. A couple of pigeons were engaged in amorous play on the window ledge but flew away as I approached. I turned and said, ‘I’m grateful for your thirdly, but not too happy about your secondly. As you know, I dropped into the middle of the Ashton case sheerly by chance and ever since then my private life has been intolerably disturbed. I have just harried a man to his death and you expect me to be persona grata with his daughters?’
‘Penelope Ashton doesn’t know of your involvement. I made sure of that.’
‘That’s not the point, and you know it,’ I said sharply. ‘You’re too intelligent a man not to know what I mean. You’re asking me to live a lie with the woman I want to marry - if she still wants to marry me, that is.’
‘I appreciate the difficulty,’ said Ogilvie quietly. ‘You mustn’t think I don’t. But…’
‘And don’t ask me to do it for the good of the department,’ I said. ‘I hope I have higher loyalties than that.’
Ogilvie quirked his eyebrows. ‘Your country, perhaps?’
‘Even than that.’
‘So you believe with E. M. Forster that if you had to choose between betraying your country and betraying your friend you would hope to have the guts to betray your country. Is that it?’
‘I’m not aware that betraying my country comes into this,’ I said stiffly.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Ogilvie musingly. ‘Betrayal takes many forms. Inaction can be as much betrayal as action, especially for a man who has chosen your work of his own will. If you see a man walking on a bridge which you know to be unsafe, and you do not warn him so that he falls to his death, you are guilty in law of culpable homicide. So with betrayal.’
‘Those are mere words,’ I said coolly. ‘You talk about betrayal of the country when all I see is an interdepartmental squabble in which your amour propre has been dented. You loathe Cregar as much as he loathes you.’
Ogilvie looked up. ‘How does Cregar come into this? Do you know something definite?’
‘He’s been trying to poke his nose in, hasn’t he? Right from the beginning.’
‘Oh, is that all,’ said Ogilvie tiredly. ‘It’s just the nature of the beast. He’s a natural scorer of points; it feeds his enormous ego. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions about Cregar.’ He stood up and faced me. ‘But I really am sorry about your opinion of me. I thought I deserved better than that.’
‘Oh, Christ!’ I said. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t really mean that. It’s just that this thing with Penny has me all mixed up. The thought of talking to her - lying to her - makes me cringe inside.’
‘Unfortunately it goes with the job. We’re liars by profession, you and I. We say to the world we work for McCulloch and Ross, economic and industrial consultants, and that’s a lie. Do you think my wife and daughters really know what I do? I lie to them every minute of every day merely by existing. At least Penny Ashton knows what you are.’
‘Not all of it,’ I said bitterly.
‘You’re not to blame for Ashton’s death.’
I raised my voice. ‘No? I drove him to it.’
‘But you didn’t kill him. Who did?’
‘Benson did, damn it!’
Ogilvie raised his voice to a shout. ‘Then find out why, for God’s sake! Don’t do it for me, or even for yourself. All her life that girl of yours has been living in the same house as the man who eventually murdered her father. Find out why he did it - you might even be doing it for her sake.’
We both stopped short suddenly and there was silence in the room. I said quietly, ‘You might have made your point - at last.’
He sat down. ‘You’re a hard man to convince. You mean I’ve done it?’
‘I suppose so.’
He sighed. ‘Then sit down and listen to me.’ I obliged him, and he said, ‘You’re going to be in disgrace for a while. Everybody will expect that, including the Minister. Some sort of downgrading is indicated, so I’m going to make you a courier. That gives you freedom of action to move around in this country, and even out of it.’ He smiled. ‘But I’d hesitate about going back to Sweden.’
So would I. Captain Morelius would become positively voluble, even to the extent of speaking three consecutive sentences. 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 conventional, 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 drily. ‘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.’
The Tightrope Men / The Enemy Page 47