is quite upset about poor Teodowicz. Meanwhile, lo and behold! a chummie. A chummie framed up to his eyeballs.’
‘It could be,’ Gently said.
‘A pity I’ve lost my credit,’ Empton said.
Gently was silent, then he said: ‘In your opinion, what was behind it?’
‘Half a compliment,’ Empton said. ‘I think Teodowicz was important. I’ve held that opinion all along. He was some kind of a big wheel.’
‘What sort of a big wheel?’
‘Perhaps an organizer,’ Empton said. ‘A man who directed other agents and acted as a clearing house for their reports. You noticed how his documents were destroyed? That would scarcely have happened to mere account sheets. But there could have been other stuff amongst them, perhaps micro-printed or in code. And remember his freedom to travel about. I think he was a man in Razek’s position.’
‘Then why would they kill him?’
‘Simple, old man. They found they couldn’t trust him any longer. If he were only an agent they could have shopped him or used him for dropping duff info, but there’s only one way with a big wheel. He knows too much. You have to kill him. And when you kill him,’ Empton said, ‘you have to kill his smell along with him. So you lay on a scapegoat, like this Sawney, and expend a pawn, like little Jan. There’s the pattern. It adds up nicely. Razek is one of their top men.’
‘Hmn,’ Gently said. ‘It skips a few factors.’
Empton’s teeth showed. ‘Naturally, old man. I don’t have the acumen of a homicide brass, I have to lean on my pitiful experience. Have you an alternative view to air?’
Gently shook his head. ‘I’ll agree with you so far. There’s something too slick about the case against Sawney, though I don’t have my finger on it yet.’
‘But nothing political. Of course.’
‘I don’t,’ Gently said, ‘rule it out. But there is nothing pointing that way at the moment. Except the way one interprets the facts.’
Empton laughed, rose from the desk. ‘So bracing,’ he said, ‘these departmental conferences. But I think I’ll follow my own ideas, crude and fantastic though they are. I’m going to poach in your covert, old man, I’m going to have a snout round Huxford. There may be some evidence gone begging there which only a fanatic like me would appreciate. You’ve no objection I suppose, old man?’
‘None, old man,’ Gently said.
‘English justice,’ Empton said. He crossed to the door, went out.
Whitaker pushed the pen-stand away from him, sprawled a little in his chair. He stuck clasped hands under his chin, looked at the closed door vacantly. He shook his head once.
‘Extraordinary type. Extraordinary,’ he said.
Gently shrugged.
‘No, but really,’ Whitaker said. ‘Do they have many like him in Whitehall?’
Afternoon, Friday August 16th. Dust hanging in the tired hedges. The hot breath of heavy vehicles tossing the paper rubbish along the verge. The sun high, molten, stingy. The sky hard except at the edges. Mirages winking in the hollows of the road. Air shimmering over the dark tarmac. Tiny wind-devils, whirling straws and dust, springing up suddenly in the parched fields. The towers of Bintly, marching, marching. The air dead, the air pressing. Tyres wearing on the greasy road. More tyres. More tyres. Northing and southing along the earth. As she dances about the sun.
Gently came to The Raven.
The notice on the door said CLOSED and the curtains in the parlour windows were drawn. No sound came from the building. The park was empty of vehicles. He slammed the door of the 105, went over, knocked, stood listening. The knock had a slight echo. No sound followed the knock. He walked a few paces from the door, peered into one of the uncurtained windows; walked to the end of the long stroke, stared round it into the yard, the unkempt garden. A black-and-white kitten lay asleep in the garden. The kitten woke up, ran across to him, purred. He tickled the kitten behind the ears. The kitten left him. He returned to the park. As he turned the corner a curtain moved and he went straight to the door and knocked again. This time he heard soft movements. The door was unbolted and opened by Wanda. She was wearing a green raincoat which she was holding closed. She looked at him. She had no expression.
‘You want to come in?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘I hope it’s convenient.’
‘I haven’t got a man here’, Wanda said, ‘if that’s what you mean, and I presume it is. I was lying down, you woke me up. You can come in, I don’t care.’
She stood back. Gently entered. She closed and bolted the door again. She stopped holding the raincoat closed. It fell open. She was naked under it.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘I’ll just look through the place.’
He walked swiftly through the kitchen, through the toilets, to the back door. It was bolted. He opened it. The garden, the field showed empty. The kitten had gone back to sleep again, didn’t cock its head at the sound of the door. He closed and re-bolted it. He returned quickly to the front door. He lifted the curtain and looked out. The 105 stood quietly shimmering.
‘Satisfied?’ Wanda said. ‘If I had a bloke here I’d show him. I’d like to think you were jealous, of course, only you don’t seem the jealous type.’
He said nothing. He went into the parlour, through the parlour into her bedroom. The bed was dishevelled as though it had been lain on. There was a smell of cigarette smoke. He came out, went to the guest lounge, the toilets, the range of twelve bedrooms. Under its tin roof the building was oven hot and sweat was glistening on his face. He returned to the parlour. Wanda had discarded the raincoat. She lay on the studio couch, smoking a cigarette. She too had a shine on her forehead and on her body a film of perspiration. One knee was crooked, a hand trailing. She blew smoke upwards. Her eyes followed the smoke.
‘Am I bothering you?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I am, but I could be wrong. This is my own house and it’s a warm day, you have to take me as you find me.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You don’t bother me.’
‘Perhaps you’d rather I was dressed,’ Wanda said. ‘Perhaps you’d like me in fur or with black suspenders. I don’t mind. I have a wide repertoire.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Gently said.
‘Yes, I have,’ Wanda said. ‘Don’t waste your talent for sarcasm, I know my business, I take a pride in it. Every man is a little different, wants a special twist to make him happy. I like to find out the twist. I’m quite a psychologist in my way.’
‘Who is it smokes in your bedroom?’ Gently said.
‘I smoke in my bedroom,’ Wanda said. ‘Do you find it inhibiting, or something. That’s a new one on me.’
‘I just find it interesting,’ Gently said. ‘There weren’t any ends in the ashtray. And you haven’t any stain on your finger. I don’t think you smoke them much, do you?’
‘Do you want a fag?’ Wanda said.
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘I smoke a pipe.’
‘Of course,’ Wanda said. ‘I like pipe-smokers. A man with a pipe always attracts me.’ She fanned some smoke. ‘There was one bloke I knew who always wanted the radio on. Not in the bedroom, but out here. Did you ever know of a bloke like that? Then there was Pete, he was Irish, it took me a long time to figure him. He liked me to blindfold him with a stocking, but I had to find out, he wouldn’t tell me. Men. There’s no two alike. I could have told Havelock Ellis some new ones. I’m not boring you, by any chance?’
‘You’re not boring me,’ Gently said.
‘I get carried away,’ Wanda said. ‘It’s one of the subjects I never tire of. And men like to talk about it, as a rule, it helps them to shed their inhibitions.’ She sat up, swung her feet to the floor. ‘I’m going into the bedroom,’ she said.
‘Why?’ Gently said.
She shrugged her lean shoulders. ‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘I was never a quitter.’
