'Treasure?' said Roskill innocently.
Audley told him briefly about the Schliemann Collection, and was exceedingly gratified to find that his information was received with the same caution as he had accorded it. This not only vindicated his attitude, he reflected, despising the jealousy he was unable to stifle; dummy4
it relegated Hugh to his own level in Faith's eyes.
'All this trouble for a load of museum exhibits!' The prospect seemed to amuse Roskill, and although Audley refrained from turning to look at Faith he could sense her bristling on the back seat.
'All what trouble?' she asked.
Roskill gave Audley a quick sidelong glance.
'That's the thing that's been disturbing me more than somewhat, Dr Audley: the priority service we've been getting. I'm used to being told to get on with it, and mind the expenses. But ever since that JIG fellow set eyes on me it's been all 'Ask and ye shall receive'–
and I don't like it!'
'The Schliemann treasure—' began Faith.
'The Schliemann treasure may be the biggest thing since Tutankhamen, Miss Jones. I'm sure it's enough to set all the thieves in Europe drooling—'
Roskill stopped for several seconds, conscious at once that he had dropped a brick. Then he plunged on.
'—But it isn't the sort of thing that gets me out of bed. And certainly not Dr Audley here. And
Faith opened her mouth to speak and then closed it suddenly. She had evidently realised that she had let slip the treasure ahead of schedule, although Audley had given her no instructions about it.
But like the admirable young woman she was, she had caught herself in time before mentioning Panin.
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She glanced at him and he smiled at her. Not so much out of gratitude at finding a woman who could hold her tongue–it was high time that Hugh was introduced to Panin, anyway–as because she had heightened his regard for her. It was a new thing for him to desire and admire a woman at the same time.
'There's one man who might be interested,' he began. Strictly speaking he ought to get Stocker's clearance before telling Hugh about Panin. But the cat would be out of the bag on Tuesday in any case.
Hugh listened, nodding at intervals.
'Well, that's a bit more like it!' he said at length. 'But I still don't quite understand why he's so worked up about it. Is there a chance he's going to defect?'
That possibility had already passed very fleetingly through Audley's mind, only to be rejected utterly. It was not so much unlikely as plain ridiculous. Defection was for the system's victims–for intellectuals like Kuznetsov and poor devils in the field like Khokhlov and Gouzenko. It wasn't for the men who made the system work, the coming men.
'Not a chance,' he replied flatly.
'I only asked,' said Roskill unrepentantly. 'The word is that with the Czechs and the Rumanians and the Chinese –and the Americans in Space–they're all at sixes and sevens over there. If I was one of
'em, I'd be looking for a cosy billet.'
But not Panin, thought Audley. The Russians were in an unhappy situation not unknown in the West: they had fallen into the hands dummy4
of a junta of second-raters, all jockeying for power. It might be a mere historical accident, or it might be a basic built-in defect of the one-party system, which admitted another Stalin as the only alternative. Either way the prospect was quietly terrifying.
But Panin was not a second-rater. More like a first-rate Father Joseph looking for his Richelieu. Or maybe a potential Richelieu himself. . .
'But you wanted to know what Morrison knew that might have been valuable, Miss Jones,' said Roskill, sensibly changing the subject. 'They might have wanted to know how far we'd got, of course. But more likely they wanted the addresses of the other crew members–Tierney the second pilot and Maclean the navigator. Right, Dr Audley?'
'Do you think they got them?'
'Probably not, Miss Jones. I think Morrison's heart gave out on them inopportunely–which is perhaps one reason why you had visitors last night!'
Faith digested the sequence of events which had brought her to the priest's hole. Audley could almost hear her mind working, although the dark glasses gave away nothing. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't so; that it was fear and the need for an anodyne, not death, which had thrown them together. But there was nothing he could say.
Finally she spoke: 'Then logically, if they are at all efficient, they should be following us now.'
Audley thought it highly unlikely that anyone was capable of dummy4
following Hugh Roskill's Triumph.
'That's all taken care of,' said Roskill. 'It isn't likely, but we'll be swapping cars on the M1 in due course. And we've got chaps watching over Tierney and Maclean already–we're efficient too, you know, when no one's pulling the purse-strings tight!'
He whistled contentedly through his teeth.
'You know,' he said conversationally to Faith, 'I used to think that with enough manpower to cover all the contingencies, and someone like Dr Audley to do my thinking for me, this job would be easy. Not
