The Alamut Ambush

'And you really don't think there's anything to interest us in the Ryle?'

'Not nothing of interest, Squadron Leader, but nothing to interest you. I thought weapons and guidance systems were your specialities, not – ' Razzak paused momentarily ' – counter-subversion. I thought that was the Special Branch's job.'

He sounded perfectly matter-of-fact and only mildly curious. Far too mild and matter-of-fact to be true: they both knew that this was the opening bid.

'You know about the Foundation then?'

'My dear fellow – I know it's being used by someone, if that's what you mean. You don't think I'd be interested in good works for their own sake, surely?'

'And who would 'someone' be?'

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'That would be telling, wouldn't it! Can you tell me what's happened to make it so interesting?'

'Is that the basis for an exchange, Colonel Razzak?'

'It could be.'

Roskill thought furiously. Of all men, Razzak probably had most to offer and would give least. But even what he didn't give aught be of interest. And after Bunnock Street it was possible that the Egyptian's role might not be quite what they had imagined...

'Didn't you know the heat was on?'

'The heat?'

'Someone – possibly your 'someone' – tried to kill one of our civil servants a couple of days ago. Didn't you know?'

'Civil servants?' Razzak sounded surprised.

'A rather top man. And you haven't heard?'

'I only got back from Paris this afternoon. Who was it?'

'A man called Llewelyn. I think you know him.'

'Llewelyn!'

'Does that surprise you?'

Razzak didn't reply immediately. It looked very much as though the news had genuinely surprised him. And that, Roskill thought grimly, was significant in itself, because it hadn't surprised Llewelyn. Yet what seemed to have thrown the Egyptian was not the deed itself, but the target.

'Llewelyn!' Razzak muttered to himself. 'The fools! The stupid, dummy2

criminal fools!'

'Which fools do you mean?'

Razzak turned towards him. 'You say they failed though? They didn't get Llewelyn?'

Roskill blessed the semi-darkness of the car which concealed the anger he felt burning his cheeks: No, you bastard, they didn't get Llewelyn – they got Alan Jenkins. Is that what you want to hear?

The flare of irrational rage died down, dowsed by the knowledge that it was dangerous – that hot emotional involvement was always to be avoided because it betrayed both men and judgment. Only cold, professional anger was permitted, and not too much of that.

Razzak had had one chance of incriminating himself. Now he could be given another.

'Oh, they missed him all right.' Not too casually, now; that would spoil it. 'They killed some poor devil of a technician who was checking out his car, though.'

Again Razzak fell silent, giving away nothing this time.

'It was a bomb in the car?'

That was another good feel line. It would be worth finding out just what sort of job the Egyptian could make of throwing them off the scent of Hassan and on to that of the Israelis.

'They used T.P.D.X.'

Razzak whistled softly. 'Ah – now I see why you were so quick off the mark back there at your car. It's tricky stuff, that T.P.D.X. – I don't blame you being nervous! A very little goes a long way.'

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'And you know who might use it?'

The Egyptian shrugged. 'The Russians flew in a load of it to Amman a few months ago, the idiots. By now every fedayeen group between there and Mount Hermon has some. You aren't going to learn anything from that.'

There was a note of exasperated contempt in Razzak's voice which embraced both the Russians and the fedayeen. And he was being damnably slow off the mark.

'And the Israelis?'

The Israelis?' Razzak seemed mystified. 'So what about them?'

'They've got some too.'

'Got some?' Another shrug. 'Probably they have – the thieving swine have got plenty of other people's property these days. You're not going to tell me – ' he stared at Roskill in the flickering light of the passing shopfronts' – my