'Vividly.'
'I am sure you haven't forgotten that terrible business in the Getreidegasse?'
'The man in the Mozart museum?'
'That same.'
'I'm hardly likely to forget it. All that blood.'
Bob appeared at the door.
'Sorry to disturb, gents. Thought you might appreciate some of this superior Armagnac brandy.'
'How solicitous!' said Trefusis.
'May I enquire, sir, whether everything went well?'
'Everything went splendidly, Bob. Splendidly.'
'Oh goody-good,' said Bob, taking three small brandy glasses from his jacket pocket. 'I'll join you then, if I may.'
'Please do, Bob, please do. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so pour us each one desperate measure.'
Bob complied.
'We were just talking about Salzburg.'
'Ooh, nasty business that, sir. Poor old Moltaj. Throat slit from ear to ear, they tell me. But then you both saw it in the flesh, didn't you, sirs?'
Adrian stared at him.
'I know you'll do right by old Moltaj, Mr Healey,' said Bob, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Course you will, sir.'
A St Matthew's Tie with Liberty silk handkerchief flamboyantly thrust into the breast pocket was bent double in Corridor Four of the third floor of Reddaway House next to the door marked '3.4.CabCom'. He seemed to be taking an unconscionable time in doing up the laces of his black Oxford shoes. It was almost impossible for him not to hear voices coming from behind the door.
'I was just thinking, sir, that what with the Bikini alert over Iran and everything . . .'
''Bugger the bloody Persians, Reeve - I have a Limit Zero Cabinet Appro on this.'
'Copeland is very keen that we should co-operate.'
'Listen to me. The Hairy Mullah is there to stay. You know it, I know it. Neither Copeland nor anyone at Langley nor over here has got a choirboy's chance in Winchester of doing anything about it. Checkmate, d'you see? I don't suppose you know what checkmate means?'
'Well. .:
'Of course you don't, you went to Oxford. Checkmate comes from the Arabic 'shah mat'- the King is dead. Well the Shah is mat, all right, he's as mat as a bloody doornail, and I don't propose to waste time feeding the ambitions of his whining progeny - they can live it up in Monaco and Gstaad for the rest of their lives as far as I'm concerned. Clear the board, put the chessmen back in their box, we've got bigger capon to baste.'
'Right, sir.'
'Right. So. Report?'
'Well, sir. I'm sorry to have to make report that the ObSquad lost Castor for a day.'
What.?'
'Er . . . if you take a look at this, sir. It's a Cambridge police report.'
The St Matthew's Tie heard the wobble of a cardboard wallet being opened.
'Castor and Odysseus, eh?''
'We rather think so, sir.'
'So are you telling me that Odysseus has got the whole box of tricks now?'
'No, sir, . . if you remember our signal from Locksmith in Budapest, Castor may have given one part of Mendax to Odysseus but the other half will be with Pollux, sewn into the lining of his jacket.'
'And Pollux is still in Troy?'
'Not exactly sir. Vienna Station received another signal from Locksmith this morning, fully prioritised.'
'Fully whatted.?'
'Er . . . prioritised, sir.'
'Christ.'
'It seems that Pollux left Troy last night.'
'Headed for the Greek camp?'