'Aren't you coming?'
'I came by helicopter,' said Thornton. 'Sorry I can't offer you a lift back, but I don't know where you came from, do I?' His smile was malicious.
Carey grunted and walked towards the car. Again there was silence in the car because Hoglund was there but, as they drew up to the quay side, Carey said abruptly, 'Was the British Embassy informed of the country of origin of those handcuffs?'
Hoglund furrowed his brow. 'I don't think so. Not by me.'
'I see. Thank you.'
The wind had moderated and the passage back to the mainland of Sweden was easier. Carey and McCready stayed on deck where it was possible to talk with some privacy. 'I didn't expect to see Thornton,' said McCready. 'What's he up to?'
'I don't know,' said Carey broodingly. 'He tried to spin me a yarn. Can you imagine a Whitehall mandarin like Thornton volunteering for an errand boy's job which any Embassy whippersnapper could do? The mind boggles.' He thumped, the rail with his fist. 'Damn these interdepartmental rivalries! We're all supposed to be on the same side, but I spend more time guarding my back against people like Thornton than I do on my job.'
'Do you suppose he knows about the switch on Meyrick?'
'I don't know. According to what he said back there he doesn't even know Meyrick.' Carey looked down at the grey sea. 'Somebody's luck ran out.'
'Meyrick's certainly did.'
'I was thinking of the people who snatched him. They got him to Copenhagen and put him on a boat to take him . . . where? And the boat was run down by a tanker travelling westwards.'
'So it was probably going east,' said McCready.'
'Suggestive -- to. say the least.'
'Let's not jump to any fast conclusions,' said Carey irritably.
'I agree,' said McCready. 'Especially let's not jump to the conclusion that this oil-poisoned stiff is Meyrick. We've been had before.'
Carey gave him a withering look, and said abruptly, 'I want Iredale present at the autopsy to check for any signs of plastic surgery. I want the fingerprints of the corpse taken and a check made at Meyrick's home for matching prints. For legal identification I suggest one of Meyrick's ex-wives.'
'What's wrong with his daughter?'
'I'm trying to work that one out,' said Carey with a sigh. 'If I pan do it before we get to the plane then maybe I can get some sleep on the flight back to Helsinki.' He did not sound too sanguine.
TWENTY
Carey sat in the Cafe Hilden on Aleksanterinkatu and sank a beer while waiting for Harding. After twelve hours' sleep he felt refreshed and no longer as depressed as he had been. He knew his depression had been caused by tiredness. All the same, rested and clear-headed though he was, the coming decision was not going to be easy to make.
He saw Harding come around the corner so he held up his hand. When Harding came over, he asked, 'You've seen Denison?' On Harding's nod, he said, 'Have a beer.'
Harding sat down. 'That'll be welcome. I didn't think it got as hot as this in the frozen north.'
Carey went to the counter and returned with two more beers. 'What's the verdict?'
Harding had his head on one side, apparently watching the foam rise in his glass. 'Oddly enough, he's improved since I last saw him. He's better integrated. What are his drinking habits like now?'
Carey tapped the side of his glass. 'He just has the odd beer.'
'In an odd sort of way this experience might have been therapeutic for him.' Harding smiled wryly. 'Although I wouldn't recommend it as a well -- judged treatment. Now that we know more of his past history I'm better equipped to assess his present state.' He took a notebook from his pocket. 'Denison was something of a car enthusiast and ran a Lotus Elan. Three years ago he was driving with his wife, there was an accident for which he was partly -- and only partly -- to blame, and his wife was killed. They had been married eighteen months. She was pregnant at the time.'
'That's bad,' said Carey.
'He took all the blame on himself,' said Harding. 'And one thing led to another. He began to drink heavily and was on the verge of alcoholism when he lost his job for incompetence.'
That baffles me,' said Carey. 'Because he's bloody competent at what he's doing now.' He grinned. 'I'm thinking of offering him a permanent job.'
Harding sampled his beer. 'He can't remember his wife in any meaningful way because of what's been done to him. He remembers her and he remembers her death but it's as though it happened to someone else. Of course, that's just as it should be after three years. In a normal person the sharpness of grief is blunted by the passage of time and, in that respect, Denison is now normal.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' said Carey.
Harding gave him a sharp look. He mistrusted Carey's reasons for being glad. He said, 'Consequently he has lost his irrational guilt feelings and has no need to anaesthetize himself with booze. Hence the return to competency. I rather think that, with a little expert treatment, he can be made into a much better man than he was immediately prior to his kidnapping.'
'How long would that take?'
Three to six months -- that's just a guess.'
Carey shook his head Too long; I want him now. Is he fit to carry on?'
Harding pondered for a moment. 'You know, I think he's actually enjoying himself right now. He likes the cm and thrust of this business -- the opportunity to exercise his wits seems to be good for him.'
'So he's fit,' said Carey in satisfaction.
'I didn't say that,' said Harding testily. 'I'm not thinking of your damned operation -- I'm thinking of Denison.' He thought for a while. The present pressures don't seem to worry him. I'd say the only danger is if his past is revealed to him in a traumatic manner.'
'That won't happen,' said Carey definitely. 'Not where I'm sending him.'
'All right,' said Harding. Then he's as fit as a man in his position can be -- which isn't saying a hell of a lot.'
'Which brings me to another problem,' said Carey. 'Meyrick is dead.' He inspected that statement, found it wanting, and amended it. 'Probably dead. We have a body but once bitten, twice shy.'
'I see your difficulty,' said Harding with a half smile.
'I can't tell the girl her father's dead -- not with Denison around. She'd Wow up like a volcano and bang goes his cover as Meyrick -- and I need him as Meyrick. The point is -- do I tell Denison?'
'I wouldn't,' said Harding. 'Handling Lyn Meyrick is tricky enough for him as it is. If he know s her father is dead it might put him into a moral dilemma, assuming he's a moral man which I think he is.' He sighed. 'God knows we're not.'
'We represent the higher morality,' said Carey sardonically. 'The greatest good for the greatest number. I've always been a Benthamite at heart; it's the only way to keep my job bearable.' He drained his glass. That's it, then. Where is Denison now.'
'Sightseeing,' said Handing. 'He took his daughter to see the Sibelius Memorial.'
TWENTY-ONE
'It looks like an organ,' said Lyn judiciously. 'If it had a keyboard you could play it. A bit funny, that, come to think of it. Sibelius was an orchestra man, wasn't he?'
'I think so,' said Denison. He consulted his guide book. 'It weighs twenty-eight tons and was made by a woman. I suppose you could call it an early example of Women's Lib -- the hand that rocks the cradle can also wield the welding torch. Let's sit and watch the passing parade.'
They sat on a bench and watched a tour group debark from a bus; transatlantic accents twanged the air. Denison saw Armstrong stroll along the path below the monument, then he lifted his eyes to look at the sea. The white sails of yachts dotted the deep blue which echoed the lighter blue of the cloudless sky. He wondered when Carey was going to make his move.
Lyn sighed comfortably. 'Isn't this beautiful? I didn't think Finland would be like this -- it's more like the Mediterranean, like Ibiza. Remember when we went there?'
'Mmm,' said Denison neutrally.
Lyn laughed. 'That funny little hotel where there was no hot water
and you couldn't have a hot bath. I've never heard you complain so angrily. What was the name of the owner -- that little fat man?'
'I don't remember,' said Denison. That was safe enough; a man was not expected to remember every casual encounter.
'And then the seafood was bad and they took you off to hospital and pumped out your stomach.'
'I always had a delicate stomach,' said Denison. He pointed out to sea. 'I think they're racing out there.' He wanted to divert her mind to the present.
'Yes, they are,' she said. 'That reminds me -- I suppose Hesperia is still laid up if you've not been sailing her this summer. The reason I ask is that if you're not going to sail her I'd like to. I sort of half promised Janice and Kitty -- friends of mine -- that e'd sail together.'
Denison was silent, not knowing what to say. Lyn said, 'Don't be a spoilsport. Billy Brooks will put her in the water and I can rig her myself.'
'All right,' he said. 'But don't get into trouble. English waters aren't as calm as the Baltic. When are you intending going back?'
'I haven't made up my mind yet. I have to write to the girls and make plans, then I'll drop a line to Billy at the yard. You were going to get a new suit of sails two years ago -- did you?'
'Yes.' He stood up quickly. 'Let's press on -- it's quite late and I have to see someone at the hotel.'
'All very mysterious,' she said. 'What's the sudden appointment?' She grinned at him. 'It sounds rather like Wilde's excuse -- "I must decline your invitation owing to a subsequent engagement."'
Had he been as transparent as that? He forced a smile and said, 'It's just that I promised to have a drink before dinner with the Kidders, that's all.'
'Oh,' she said lightly. Then let's go. We mustn't keep the Kidders waiting.'
As they walked away Denison saw Armstrong rise from his bench and follow them. What's the use of a bodyguard? he thought. The enemy is by my side and stabs with a sharp tongue. More and more he was conscious of the injustice of the fraud he was perpetrating on Lyn Meyrick and he determined to see Carey and ask him to find a way of separation.
They got back to the hotel, and Lyn said, 'Do you mind if I come to your room?' She looked about the hotel lobby. 'There's something I want to talk to you about.'
'What?'
She pointed to the hotel entrance. 'Him, for one thing. Denison looked around and saw Armstrong just coming in. 'He's been following us for the last two days.'
'He's supposed to,' said Denison. 'You might call him a bodyguard. If I go into the sauna again -- which God forbid -- he'll be in there with me.'
She said quietly, 'I think you'd better tell me what it's all about. There's a lot you're keeping from me. In your room?'
'All right,' he said resignedly. They went up in the lift with three other people and Denison used the time to sort out what he was going to tell her -- no lies but withholding most of the truth. He decided that a lot could be hidden behind the Official Secrets Act.
He unlocked the door and followed her in. 'What do you want to know, Lyn?'
'There's a big secret, isn't there?' She sat on the bed.
'Which I can't tell,' he answered. 'It's part of my work. Somebody had a go at me the other day so the Embassy sent that young fellow -- he's called Armstrong, incidentally -- to look after me. That's all.'
'No more?'
'Nothing you're entitled to know, Lyn. I'm sorry.' He spread his hands. 'I'm bound by the Official Secrets Act.'
Her face was drawn. 'I'm sorry, too, because it isn't enough.'
'My God, I can't tell you anything more. If I tattle about what I'm doing they'll assume I'm a bad security risk.' He laughed shortly. 'I'd never be allowed into my own factories -- and that's the best that could happen. At the worst I could go to prison.' He sat on the bed next to her. 'It isn't that I don't trust you, Lyn; it's that if you knew what I know you'd be vulnerable. I don't want to put you in danger.'
She was silent for a while. Her face was troubled and her fingers plucked at the coverlet. She moistened her lips. 'I've been worried.'
'I know you have, but there's nothing to worry about. It's over, and Armstrong will see that it doesn't happen again.'
'It's not that I've been worrying about.'
'What, then?'
'Me,' she said. 'And you -- principally you. There's something wrong somewhere.'
Denison felt his stomach churn. He said, 'There's nothing wrong with me. It's your imagination.'
It was as though she had not heard him. 'Nothing big -- the big things were all right. It's the little things. Thread-Bear, for instance; how could you have forgotten Thread-Bear? And then there are the Kidders.'
'What about the Kidders?'
'Two years ago you'd have cut a man like that down to size in five words.' She looked at him steadily. 'You've changed. You've changed too much.'
'For the better, I hope,' said Denison, fighting a valiant rearguard action.
'I'd say so.' There was a slight waver in her. voice. 'You're not nearly as hard to get on with.'
'I'm sorry if I gave you a bad time in the past,' said Denison soberly. 'As I said before: perhaps as I grow older I grow wiser.'
'It confused me,' she said. 'And I'm no different from anyone else; I don't like being confused. And I had a crazy idea -- it was so crazy I thought I must be losing my mind.'
Denison opened his mouth but she covered it with her hand. 'No, don't speak. Let me sort it out myself. I don't want to be confused again.'
She took her hand away, and Denison said quietly, 'Go on, Lyn.'
'I found myself having strange thoughts about you.' She swallowed. The kind of thoughts a girl shouldn't have about her own father, and I felt ashamed. You were so different, you see; not like my father at all -- and the change was too much. I tried to see how you'd changed and the only conclusion I could come to was that suddenly you'd become human.'
Thanks,' said Denison, There's a bit of my old daddy come back,' she said vehemently. 'Oh, you could use irony and sarcasm like knife blades.'
'No irony intended,' said Denison sincerely.
Then I saw the other things like Thread-Bear and the Kidders and the fact that you've stopped smoking. Look at your hands now -- no nicotine at all. Then I got this wild idea.'
Denison stood up. 'Lyn, I think we'd better stop this now,' he said coldly. 'You're becoming hysterical.'
'No, we won't stop,' she shouted, and stood to face him. 'You knew all the works of Sibelius backwards and sideways, and why wouldn't you? You're a Finn! But this morning you only thought his work was for the orchestra. And I don't know about you -- we've been parted for many years -- but I've never been to Ibiza in my life and, to the best of my knowledge, you've never been to hospital with food poisoning.'
Denison was appalled. 'Lyn!'
She was merciless. There is no yacht called Hesperia. You always said that sailing is the most inefficient means of locomotion known to man, and everyone knows that efficiency is your god. And Billy Brooks doesn't exist -- I invented him. And you said you'd bought a suit of sails for a non-existent yacht.'
Her face was white and her eyes brimmed with tears and Denison knew she was deathly frightened. 'You can't be my father,' she whispered. 'You're not my father. Who are you?'
TWENTY-TWO
'Where the hell is Denison?' said Carey irritably.
McCready was soothing. 'He'll be along. He's not very late.'
Carey was on edge. 'He could have been jumped again.'
'It's you that's jumpy. Armstrong's looking after him.' . Carey said nothing. He bent his head to re-read the lengthy cable. Presently he said, 'Well, that's cleared up. It was a hell of a problem while it lasted.'
'What was?' asked Harding interestedly.
When Denison was lifted from the sauna he came out with a string of mathematical stuff to confuse the opposition. He didn't know what it meant himself but it was the jargon Meyrick might have used.' He tossed the cable on to the table. 'We couldn't see how Denison c
ould possibly have known it.'
Harding said, 'It must have come out of his past somewhere.'
'Precisely,' said Carey. 'But he didn't have that kind of past.'
'Of course not.' Harding wrinkled his brow. 'He was a film director.'
'Of a special kind,' said McCready. 'He made documentaries. We found he'd done a series of educational films on mathematics for the public relations department of one of the big computer firms. I suppose a film director must have a working knowledge of his subject although, judging by some of the movies I've seen, you wouldn't think so. Anyway, somebody talked to the computer people and we find that not only did he have a ready grasp but a keen interest. The films were largely in cartoon style and the subject was probability theory. He knew the jargon, all right.'
'But it gave me a shudder at the time,' said Carey. 'Mrs Hansen, ring the hotel and find what's keeping Denison.'
Diana Hansen got up and crossed the room. She was about to pick up the telephone when it rang shrilly. She put it to her ear, then beckoned to Carey. 'For you -- it's Armstrong.'
Carey took the telephone. 'Ian, what's the hold-up?'
'I was in my room,' said Armstrong. 1 had my door open so I could see the door of Denison's room. About twenty minutes ago Miss Meyrick busted out of there fast so I went into the corridor to find what was happening. She grabbed me and said Denison had had some kind of attack. I went into the room and found him on the floor, out cold. He came round about five minutes ago.'
'Is he all right now?'
'He says he is.'
Then you'd better bring him along here,' said Carey. 'I'll have Harding have a look at him.'
There was a pause. 'Miss Meyrick says she's coming, too.'
'Nothing doing,' said Carey. 'Ditch her.'
'I don't think you understand,' said Armstrong. 'When she spoke to me in the corridor she said Denison had had an attack -- not Meyrick.'
Carey's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. 'She knows?'
'Apparently so.'
'Bring her along and don't take your eyes off the pair of them. And be discreet.' He put down the telephone. The girl has caught on -- and your patient is coming home to roost, Harding. He's had another of his thingummy attacks.'
Bagley, Desmond - The Tightrope Men Page 14