"They're tongue, sir. It seems only yesterday she was in here behind the bar."
"That'll do. Well, she's in good hands. Have you any mustard?"
"And three pints of keg," said Jagger. "That's if neither of you have got any other ideas."
"I've got lots of other ideas," said Hunter, "but it'll be better for everybody if I keep them to myself. Incidentally I can recommend the pickled onions."
"Good idea. I'll have six, please, miss."
They settled themselves at a small oval table by the window. The sun was streaming in and Leonard drew the heavy linen curtain before getting down to the first of two Scotch eggs. The room was not crowded and seemed pleasantly dark and cool. When he had disposed of a large pork pie and asked Leonard a few questions, Jagger said,
"So the way you look at it, it's all over bar the shouting. Once we've nabbed him, then it's money for jam picking up his contact inside the camp. I hope you're right."
Leonard nearly finished a mouthful of Scotch egg, making disagreeing noises the while, and said, "Not money for jam. No. Substantially easier, though. A man of Best's personality make-up might easily tell us everything we want to know with a little pressure, or even without any at all."
"Mm. It's possible. You know, the more I think about that personality make-up of Best's the more interested I get." Jagger sat in a hunched position on the padded window-seat, blinking his pale greenish eyes and licking fragments of pie off his teeth. He spoke slowly. "If he's all we take him for, he's been given a highly specialized espionage job concerned with finding out and transmitting secrets. Just secrets. Then, on the spur of the moment and at great risk of immediate discovery, he pinches a rifle and goes straight off and shoots it at something. Whatever else that does, it advertises the fact that someone's got that rifle who shouldn't have. You see? The rifle's a secret. If a fellow gets hold of a secret, he ought to try to stop it leaking out that anybody's got hold of the secret, or the secret instantly becomes less valuable."
"I told you he was unbalanced," said Leonard. "He could have suffered a sudden outburst of paranoia. We'll probably get the answer to that when we question him. Anyway, I was going to say that, failing any sort of complete confession from him, the spy in the camp will be cut off from his line of communication and so neutralized for the time being. Then we can set it up so that as soon as the opposition start trying to provide him with another outlet, or he starts looking for one, we'll have him. So far I've been working from hand to mouth on this job, but with Best captured I'll be able to get all the men and resources I care to ask for."
"It's a pity in a way you've got to pull Best in," said Hunter, stubbing out a cigarette on the considerable remains of his tongue sandwich. "If you left him at liberty with a close watch on him, he might lead you to other people."
Jagger sniffed. "Can't be done, my lad," he said. "He can do a lot more harm with that thing in his possession. And we can hardly take it back off him and let him go on as usual. Even a fellow with his personality make-up would think there was something a bit fishy about that."
"But what harm can he do? He's got no more ammunition."
"No no, I mean he's got to get bits of the thing away somehow to be gone over by experts, plus photographs and so forth."
"Can't you stop him?"
"We daren't risk it, bugger it," said Jagger, suddenly irritated. "There's a sight too much at stake, my lad. At the moment we don't know who his courier is or how he gets to him or anything. We're still very much in the dark about all that end of it."
"I see. But there is just one thing I don't see."
"Well?"
"This is where Max has been so useful," put in Leonard. "Constructive criticism."
"I'm sure. Well, Hunter?"
"Now Best's got the rifle, what more does he want? What can his contact in the camp have to tell him? After he'd tipped him off about the Exercise, I should have thought his job was done."
"No no no. There's lots of other stuff Best needs. Technical details, stuff about tactics, strategic plans, all that."
"Perhaps he's already got it."
"Impossible." Leonard was emphatic. "I'd have known."
"But look. Don't you think he's behaving like somebody who's got all he needs?"
Leonard merely shook his head, but Jagger stiffened in his chair. Hunter looked at him for a moment, then ht another cigarette.
"Well, either way well have him in the bag soon," said Jagger.
There was an uneasy silence. It was still unbroken when Eames, who had appeared behind the counter a moment earlier, caught sight of Hunter, lifted the flap and came over to the group.
"Everything all right, gentlemen?"
"Yes, thank you, landlord," said Jagger. "Very nice bit of pie indeed."
"Thank you, sir." Eames turned to Hunter. "I don't suppose there'll be any recent news of Mrs. Casement, will there, Captain?"
"Only that she went into hospital this morning."
"Yes, I heard she was going. It'll be early days yet, then, to expect to hear anything. But what a shocking business. Out of a dear sky. Act of God, as you might say."
"Yes," said Hunter, "you might well say that."
"Just as she and Mr. Churchill had become so attached. How is he, by the way?"
"I saw him for a moment this morning. He seems to be bearing up fairly well."
"A fine young gentleman, that. Would you give him my very best wishes, Captain?"
"Indeed I will, Mr. Eames, and thank you very much."
"Well…" Eames seemed to want to say more, but ducked his head, said quickly, "Good afternoon, gentlemen," and left them.
"It's the most awful thing," said Leonard to Jagger. "This Casement girl has just developed cancer, very young, not much more than thirty, and she's, uh, involved with young Churchill, one of the-"
"Of course, lieutenant, Blue Howards, that's right. The youngest on the team, as I remember. Friend of yours, is he, Hunter?"
"Yes."
"Very sad. Tragic, in fact."
"You know, Max," said Leonard thoughtfully, "it strikes me as rather the sort of thing our Anti-Death League friend might have included in that notice of his if it had come up by then and he'd known about it."
"Exactly the sort of thing."
Leonard turned to Jagger again. "Some harmless nut put up a lot of notices round the camp calling for a meeting of what he called the Anti-Death League. Nobody turned up; it was a complete washout. There was a poem too which got sent to the padre and might have been by the same chap. Nothing in it really, as it's turned out, but it got me quite worried at the time, I don't mind telling you."
"You must let me have a look," said Jagger. "Especially the poem. I rather care for a bit of poetry, though I know it's not to everybody's taste." He laughed.
The alarm buzzer on Leonard's wrist sounded. The three jumped up and ran out of the building into the yard, where Leonard's car was parked. He flung the door open, releasing a waft of heat, got behind the wheel, switched the radio on and spoke enthusiastically into the microphone.
"Hullo, Control. Padlock here. Over."
A voice on the loudspeaker said, "Hullo, Padlock. Message from public library. Book has been found. I say again, book has been found. Representative will meet you as arranged. Over."
"Roger," said Leonard in a trembling voice. "Out."
He sat still for a moment, then turned in his seat and looked at them.
"Well, gentlemen," he said finally, "shall we go and get him?"
The other two climbed in and Leonard drove off down the village street, narrowly missing a parked lorry full of some root crop. As they went he outlined his plan, which was simple but to all appearance workable. After that nobody spoke until they reached a point some two hundred yards from the main gate of the hospital. Here Leonard drew into the side and stopped.
"This is where I'm meeting my man," he said, got out and urinated into the hedge, or pretended to.
There was silence ap
art from the feeble chirrup of a bird and the ticking of the engine as it lost heat. After a moment Jagger spoke suddenly and angrily from over Hunter's shoulder,
"Rifle, rifle, rifle," he said. "Rifle this, rifle that, rifle the other thing. Buggering rifle."
"It has been a nuisance, certainly."
"Bloody sight worse than that, old lad."
Leonard got back in again and they moved away.
"It's in that big hallstand affair outside his room," he said. "Bold as brass."
"What took the blind bastards so long to find it, then?" asked Jagger.
"He keeps a bag of golf-clubs there most of the time. They thought the rifle in its covering was another one, I gathered."
Jagger gave a groan of Venables pitch. "There's some heads'll roll when this little lot's over," he said.
"All right, Jagger," said Leonard. "Out of sight now."
With more groans, Jagger laboriously lowered himself to the floor behind the front seats, Leonard turned into the hospital drive and stopped again. Hunter, very pale, got out and hurried into the lodge. The thickset blue-suited man confronted him.
"What can I do for you, sir? Oh, it's Captain Hunter, isn't it?"
"Yes. I want to see Dr. Best rather urgently. Is he free?"
"I don't know about that, sir."
"But he always keeps this time open for people who want to talk to him."
"Well, he may have someone with him already, you see."
"I don't mind waiting. Could you telephone him and find out?"
"I could. Who's that in the car with you?"
"Just a friend who drove me over."
"Mm. Wait a minute."
Keeping his eyes on Hunter, the man went to a wall telephone and cranked its handle. After a minute he spoke.
"Johnson here, doctor, speaking from the lodge. I've got that Captain Hunter here, with a friend of his, he says. Wants to have a word with you… All right, doctor."
He rang off and turned to Hunter.
"You can go up," he said grudgingly.
Hunter left without a word, grateful for not having had to use an alternative part of the plan whereby, should Best have refused to see him, he was to have seized the telephone off Johnson, done a bit of-almost certainly ineffective-pleading, and pretended to Johnson that he had been granted an interview after all.
"Okay?" Leonard asked him when he was back in the car.
"No trouble. He'll see us."
Leonard nodded sharply once and let in the clutch. Viewed sidelong, his face looked tense and determined enough, with tightened mouth and the familiar trickle of sweat from under the khaki cap, but about the eye visible to Hunter there was something exultant, ardent, even awe-struck, such as might be seen (it occurred to Hunter) in a devout youth off to his first communion, or an elderly sexual deviate approaching the arena where every detail of his hitherto impracticable perversion had finally been marshaled. Hunter hoped that nothing would happen to spoil Leonard's imminent triumph.
At the edge of the car-park a man was on one knee doing something very trifling to a rose-bush. His posture was stylized, as if conservatively adapted from an illustration in a military textbook. As prearranged, it was his part to fetch the rifle from outside Best's room and get it into the car.
"You've got two minutes," muttered Leonard as he and Hunter went by. Jagger was to stay in the car-though he had been given permission to resume his seat, provided he kept out of sight-and act as a mobile reserve.
Crossing the hall of the staff block, Leonard kept his eyes straight in front of him, but Hunter could not resist a glance over at the hallstand where, almost hidden by raincoats and the bulky golf-bag in rust-colored canvas, the NHW-17 stood on end in its webbing cover.
Leonard knocked at a door.
"Come in, come in, come in," called a loud and hearty voice.
They entered and Dr. Best rose to greet them.
Hunter thought he had never seen the doctor in such good spirits. His blue eyes were wider and brighter than ever before, and his smile showed an unprecedented number of black-edged teeth. The bandage round his bald head was neat enough, and set sufficiently askew to seem raffish or exotic rather than a sign of physical injury. He shook hands warmly with Hunter, at the same time holding out his left hand towards Leonard in the manner of some celebrated or ambitious actor. After a moment's hesitation Leonard reached awkwardly across his body and shook the hand.
What Leonard, perhaps typically, had not foreseen, or at any rate had not mentioned to Hunter as a possibility to be reckoned with, was the presence of Dr. Minshull, who had also risen to his feet, if he had not been on them all along, and who now stood gazing over the heads of the new arrivals. He and Best were at either side of the dining-table, which was bare apart from a half-full decanter, two glasses, a brass hand-bell, and a printed document with handwritten insertions.
"Sit down, my dear fellows, sit down, sit down," cried Dr. Best. "I hope you'll join us for coffee and brandy."
In the absence of any lead from Leonard, Hunter did as he was told. He found himself in a very low armchair padded in yellow satin. Before he had done more than begin looking round the room, which he had passed through several times before now on his way to the adjacent consulting-room, Dr. Best rang his hand-bell.
"Actually I can offer you a very nice Oporto-bottled Constantino 1935 which came my way recently," he said, "though do please take brandy if you prefer it."
"I'd like some brandy, please," said Hunter mechanically. He realized without much precision that, however free of Best he might have felt over the last weeks, returning to Best's home ground re-awoke in him certain feelings of being trapped. They seemed reinforced by his present nearness to the floor. The smell of lilies was almost overpowering.
"Hine, Martell or Courvoisier?"
"Hine, please."
"Three Star, VSOP or Antique?"
"Antique, please."
"A lot or a little?"
"A lot, please."
He was given a lot. Not having heard the door behind him open, he was surprised a moment later to find at his shoulder a dark-haired girl wearing a single garment of white leather that stopped only at neck and wrists. She was carrying a silver tray and, from where he was, looked very tall.
"Black, sir?" she asked.
"Oh. Yes. Thank you."
She poured and handed him a cup of coffee and moved over to Leonard. A blonde girl in black leather took her place.
"Just sugar for you, sir?"
Hunter tried to dispel the disagreeable sense of unreality that had been growing on him since entering the room. "No, I'll change my mind if I may," he said. "I think there's room there for just the tiniest spot of milk… And the merest suspicion of sugar… No no, that's splendid, that's quite perfect… Many many thanks."
He was still trying to think of something useful to think to himself about the girls when the door shut behind them and Dr. Best said,
"Can I offer you a Romeo y Julieta?"
"A what?" said Leonard, speaking for the first time.
"Perhaps a Half Corona?"
"Oh. No thank you. Dr. Best, I'd like to have a word with-"
"Well, this is a great day, a great day, my dear Captain Leonard. Here you are at last, eh?"
"At last?" Leonard seemed mystified.
"Oh yes, we've been expecting you. Haven't we, Minshull?"
The man addressed gave a long, ascending whinny of laughter.
"Well, I have been meaning for some time to return that very pleasant lunch you gave me here," said Leonard bravely, "by asking you over to our Mess. So when my colleague here mentioned to me that he-"
Here both doctors laughed.
"Oh, Captain Leonard," said Dr. Best, shaking his bandaged head, "what a wag you are. So very droll after your own fashion. But let's be serious if we can. What is the real purpose of your visit here?"
"I was just going to explain that it was Captain Hunter who mentioned to me that he wanted to c
ome and see you, and I simply-"
"Ah yes, of course, the liquor-loving Captain Hunter. How are you, sir?-but I can see how you are. In need of a further course of treatment. Well, it'll be a pleasure to furnish that. Your probation isn't up for another ten days or so, but we can easily advance matters."
"Dr. Best," said Hunter, "what's the matter with your head?"
"It was rather annoying. I went on a little expedition into the country yesterday, a short drive followed by a ramble on foot. Much as one enjoys the society of one's fellow-creatures, there do come times when one prefers to be… unencumbered. I'd noticed that one of the new gardeners here was taking a great interest in my activities, following me to the golf club and back and so on on his scooter, so before setting off yesterday morning I took the liberty of letting the air out of one of his tires. What's that called in your parlance, Captain Leonard?-'shaking a tail' would it be, or is it ‘losing a tag'?"
Leonard said nothing. He was sitting quite still.
"Anyway, after this short drive of mine I parked my car in an inconspicuous place and set off across country. I must have gone about a mile and a half, I suppose, and was getting the full benefit of the sun and the fresh air, when I fell into a hole. It was so well camouflaged with ferns and other greenery as to be virtually undetectable. I hit my head on a stone and was rendered unconscious for what must have been several hours. When I came to myself the shadows were lengthening, and I was full of chagrin at the time to think that my expedition was wasted, that its purpose was unfulfilled. But it wasn't, was it, Captain Leonard? It very clearly was not."
"I don't follow you."
"Oh yes you do, my dear fellow. I succeeded in my aim, didn't I? Because here you are to arrest me for espionage. But I'm glad to say that there's some real hope for you. The rapidity and decisiveness with which you've made your psychic shift is prognostically highly favorable. Your illness now stands revealed, naked in all its… majesty."
Leonard rose shakily to his feet.
"I am a Security officer," he said, "with credentials from the Ministry of Defence, and with authority from the same body to compel you to accompany me before a tribunal, against the composition of which you will be at liberty to appeal in due time. I must ask you to accompany me now."
The Anti-Death League Page 26