List is something different.'
Roskill looked at Mary doubtfully. It was typical of David to shoot his mouth off in front of civilians; it wasn't so much lax security this time as that calculated and deliberate amateurishness of his –
the flouting of the rules to prove that he was a gentleman rather than a player. Except that this time David might not be wholly to blame – if Mary had crooked her little finger at him.
Audley caught his look and waved his hand airily.
'Miss Hunter and I have already had a talk, damn it – she already knows enough to ruin us, thanks to you.'
Mary's eyes rested on the big man approvingly, as though he had dummy2
already been compacted into her inner circle. So the charm had not been one-way, Roskill thought with a twinge of jealousy: when Audley put himself out, which wasn't often, he too had a way with him.
But having blabbed already himself, Roskill knew he was in no position to protest, even though he could sense Butler's disapproval. It would be interesting to see how long it took Mary to crack Butler's shell wide open too.
'Who is he, then?' Butler asked. 'Hassan?'
Audley shook his head. 'Let's get things in order first, Butler. I want to hear exactly how Hugh got on to him.'
Settled in the huge leather armchair, Audley was a good deal more relaxed now than he had been when Roskill had arrived. But then he had seen Butler through the telescope and had feared – as Roskill had done – that he'd been taken for a ride. The good news that they were still in business had rather taken the edge off the bad news that the business was nasty: he seemed to have expected that.
They listened in silence while Roskill gave them his edited account of the previous evening. The trick, as he knew from long experience, was to practise the ancient and dishonourable art of British understatement. He had learnt from a wise American years before that most people instinctively assumed that understatement concealed courage and competence. Used properly it rendered both cowardice and incompetence alike invisible, and long years of exposure had not rendered the British themselves immune to it – if anything they were more easily deceived than foreigners, who sometimes mistook it for inarticulateness.
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At the end Audley nodded sagely. Mary was gazing at him in rapt attention, which would have been very gratifying if he had not felt such a charlatan.
'So the Ryle Foundation is Hassan's cover?' said Butler.
'I think it's very likely. Not exactly a cover, though — or not just a cover. A ready-made framework as well.'
'The ivy on the oak tree,' murmured Mary.
'That's it. Only not so obvious – more like a tape worm.'
'And we still don't know what he's up to here,' growled Butler.
'Except he's quite ready to kill just to keep us in the dark, that's the only thing we know. And he's damned efficient at doing it.'
'Efficient,' Audley repeated thoughtfully. 'But not so efficient with your car, was he, Hugh?'
'I'm not so sure about that now, David. To be honest, I'm not at all sure that it was Hassan at all. There was something not quite right about that whole business – and that's what the technical chap seemed to think when they phoned me this morning, too – '
'McClure speaking, Squadron Leader – I'm sorry, Squadron Leader, but we can't let you have your car back yet.'
'For God's sake, why not? What's wrong with it?'
'Nothing – and that's what's wrong. Or almost nothing. The nut on the track rod had been removed, that's all.'
The nut – ? Christ, man – do you call that nothing?'
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'Och, I can see well it might have been awkward on a motorway – '
'Damn right it would have been!'
'But it needn't have come to that, Squadron Leader. With the track rod, you know, it takes time to free itself and jump out. It could have killed you or it could have no more than dented your bumper.'
'So what?'
'So it's a verra chancey way of putting a man down. It's something and nothing, if you take my point It'd be an amateur or a man who didn't know his own mind who'd do such a stupid thing... Or it could be a wee cozenage.'
'A what?'
'A deception, Squadron Leader – a red herring. A cover for something else much smarter. You told me to mind young Jenkins last night, and I do. And you'd do well to do as much yourself ...
But if that's the way of it, we haven't been able to find it yet, though we're still looking. And the while, I cannot let you have the vehicle...'
' – Then he offered me a department car. But as I was coming down here I thought it wiser to hire one for myself.'
No need to labour that point; cozenages could be attempted by friends who wished to keep track of him just as easily as by foes.
'And then I got to thinking about it,' said Roskill, watching Audley
– this was Audley's technique, after all. 'If Hassan wanted to stop me, he didn't need anything as crude as the
