The Alamut Ambush

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sportsmanship towards each other! I do beg your pardon. Squadron Leader. But it isn't simply admiration, I assure you. I know Razzak, that's all I was attempting to show in my clumsy way. I don't underrate him, but I know how his mind works. That was what you wanted to know, wasn't it?'

'You think we should look elsewhere?'

'I'm quite sure you'd be wasting your time on Razzak.' Shapiro gazed at Roskill quizzically. 'Does it surprise you – my advice?'

Roskill nodded. 'It does rather.'

'I ought to be stirring things up, eh?' Shapiro grinned, 'If I thought he could be properly saddled with it I might be tempted. Then again, I might not – there's no real percentage in playing 'Wolf, Wolf'. It weaken's one's credibility.'

He leaned forward towards Roskill. 'You're wondering why I'm being so nice to old Razzak – and helpful to you. But to be honest I wouldn't cross the road for either of you, any more than you'd cross it for me. But look at it from my point of view, friend – I know I didn't do it and I don't reckon Razzak did. But I know some dim-witted Arab did, and it'd suit me fine to see you nail him – and if it suits me I'll see he gets plenty of publicity when the time comes.'

'Not with a D Notice, you won't.'

'D Notice?' Shapiro blew a derisive raspberry. 'No D Notices in the States – or in Europe. They lap up D Notices, in fact – makes 'em see the fire under the smoke. And with my contacts in the Commons I'll make your D Notice look pretty sick, too. If you get your man I just can't lose – that's the way I see it.'

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That was the way Roskill was seeing it too – and seeing it very clearly. The newspapers had got very fair mileage out of the bomb explosion at the Zim office in Regent Street and the Marks and Spencer's fires the year before – and even from the crazy plan to kidnap Clore and Sieff. And the air liner bombs had been a far greater disaster for the Arab cause. But an act of terrorism directed against a foreign, non-Jewish Government official would unite official opinion against the Arab cause more surely than any of these crimes.

Except that the killers hadn't been after Llewelyn at all; he kept almost forgetting what only he and Audley – and the killers –

knew: that this was no deliberate act of misconceived policy, but something much simpler – the hurried elimination of a witness.

But a witness to what?

He met Shapiro's eyes. The agonising thing was that even if the man didn't know who the killers were, he might very well know why they had acted. And that was the one question that couldn't yet be asked of him.

Shapiro evidently misunderstood his expression; he shook his head sadly.

'I'm sorry you had to lose a good man to give me this on a plate, Roskill. It's a bloody waste, that's what it is – like this whole rotten situation we're in. Nobody gains, not us and not the Egyptians, and not those poor devils in the camps across the Jordan.'

'Only the Russians.'

'Them?' Shapiro waved a hand. 'Not them either – you wait and dummy2

see. The Arabs hate their guts.'

That was what Audley was always saying. In the long run meddlers in the Middle East only found trouble as the reward for their pains.

'So Razzak says you're innocent, and you say Razzak's whiter than snow,' said Roskill softly. 'But if not either of you, then who?'

'Does old Razzak say that? That's white of him!' Shapiro brushed his moustache thoughtfully. 'Well, I would say the only good reason for knocking off Llewelyn would be if he was the kingpin of the cease-fire negotiations – which he most certainly isn't. But of course he may think he is, in which case someone may believe him ... so we want someone dotty enough to believe it and fanatic enough to kill...'

'With T.P.D.X.'

'Indeed?' Shapiro raised his eyebrows. 'Then we want someone who knows his way round explosives too.'

'It's as tricky as that, is it?'

'Not tricky – just powerful. If you only lost one man, then they only used a very little of it. A beginner would have used too much and blown up the whole block.' He began to count off his fingers.

'Not official Fatah – they're down on foreign jobs after the last mess-up. Not Saiqa – their London man's hot on good public relations at the moment.' He stopped, frowning. 'Of course they could have hired some freelance white talent – there's enough money floating around to tempt some of the bad hats. They wouldn't like doing it, any of the groups. It would make 'em feel dummy2

reactionary and inadequate. But for a once-only job they might stretch a point. . .' He stopped again, gazing into space. 'On the whole I don't think so, though. If it ever leaked out there'd be tremendous loss of face. Besides, with all the training Moscow's been giving, there must be plenty of them around who know how to handle the stuff ... So where does that get us?'

He looked at Roskill. 'There's the Chinese-orientated wing of the P.

F.L.P. that's never been brought into the fold. But they wouldn't know about Llewelyn, and if they did they probably wouldn't be interested in him. So not them either, I reckon.' He grinned. 'Don't rush me, though. We'll get ourselves a short list in the end, never fear.'

If he was going to work his way painstakingly through the possibilities it might be hours before he reached the vital one, and he might never reach it at all. There was no real point in prolonging this process of elimination, anyway.