The Labyrinth Makers

Richardson grimaced. 'They all drink whisky in Tierney's circles. It was touch and go at the end whether they were going to tell me about him or I was going to tell them about me! And it's cost the nation a fortune.'

A few minutes later Audley added to that cost with a reversed call to the department. Mercifully the hotel's public telephone was dummy4

located in an enclosed sentry box of dark varnished wood, with additional privacy provided by a giant plant which flourished aggressively beside it.

Extension 28 eventually brought him Stocker, as he had expected.

For the time being, and perhaps permanently, Fred was no more than a friend at court. And at this time of a Sunday morning he would be only just leaving the church he so dutifully attended.

But Stocker beamed insincerely at him down the phone.

'David!'–So he had ceased to be Audley at some point in the last twenty-four hours–'I'm glad you were able to get through to me so soon'–was there a reprimand there?–'I gather you know all about G

Tower?'

At least he wasn't prevaricating.

'I do–yes.'

'You must tell me about your private network some time. It appears to have the virtue of efficiency.'

Audley grunted non-commitally. That would be the day.

'And I gather you have also heard about the missing Trojan antiquities.'

It was a statement, not a question. Audley gloated briefly over the vision of Sir Kenneth Allen's reaction at being disturbed twice in one evening to answer the same question.

'You consider it likely that that was Steerforth's cargo?'

'I'm reasonably certain it was.'

'You have corroborative evidence? From the daughter?'

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Roskill was reporting back everything to Stocker, for no one else had known about Faith until that morning. But it was only to be expected. If he was dealing with someone as awkward as himself he would have done no less.

'Yes.'

'Good. And you consider her involvement in the next stage necessary?'

'I think it may be essential.' Fred had become resigned to monosyllabic answers until he was ready with a full report, but it would be too much to expect the same of Stocker, Audley warned himself. He was already forgetting the tactical errors which had got him into this mess in the first place.

'I don't think Roskill and Butler will get anything out of Tierney,'

he elaborated. 'Not unless we let them lean on him hard, and probably not even then. So I'm going to try a different approach and Miss Jones will be my–my passport.'

'Proof of your mala fides! I see! And is she a chip off the old block?'

Audley found the suggestion that Faith had inherited anything from her father except that physical resemblance oddly distasteful.

'Not in the least. But she's an intelligent young woman, and she wants to help.'

'Very well–I leave her to your discretion. Now about last night's business. Your three visitors.'

'They put–devices in the cars and they may have bugged the house.'

'They did bug the house. I received an interim report half an hour dummy4

ago. They're still looking.'

Audley loathed asking questions of his nominal superiors. Apart from their reluctance to give straight answers, which provided him only with negative intelligence, it suggested incompetence on his own part. But he had been pitchforked into this puzzle at such short notice that it would be folly to pretend that he understood what he was about.

'I don't understand why they did it,' he admitted. 'I can't see why it's so important. And I can't see why a man like Panin has involved himself personally in it. I take it we've offered him full co-operation?'

'We have–yes.'

'In that case there must be something I don't know about.'

'I give you my word, David–for what it's worth–that we know no more than you do. Probably less, on your past form. Panin is a man with very little past, a big present and an even bigger future. We'd like to know more about him, and this is a great opportunity. We don't want to offend him if we can help it, either!'

Nothing had changed since yesterday.

'I think you should at least admit the possibility, Dr Audley, that he simply wants to recover the Trojan antiquities. He's an archaeologist. He lost them in the first place –and that probably rankles. He's on holiday, too. On his own time, as it were. Taking precautions could be second nature with him. All we can do is to find those boxes for him, show him the sights and send him home happy.'

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Audley felt his irritability returning as he retraced his way to Richardson's room. Stocker must know something else, but he wasn't going to divulge it, even in answer to a direct appeal. It must therefore be a matter of high policy, something relating to the official attitude to Panin, rather than to the Steerforth aspect. All he could do was