Richardson could have sworn, absolutely terrified of
'But not of me,' Narva repeated.
'Of your reputation, shall we say. I couldn't be sure that you still recognised an—obligation to our Little Bird's nestlings.'
Audley's expression didn't change, but he raised his glass in graceful acknowledgement.
A rare bird indeed, thought Richardson—they had all said that and it now pleased Audley to believe it too. But it was possible to see self-interest in having Frau Hotzendorff still tucked under his wing rather than at risk in East Germany, just in case she knew too much. And it was equally possible, even likely, that Audley had planned this sequence of events with that very thought in mind.
'I see . . .' Narva digested the explanation coolly, with no dummy2
indication that he took it as complimentary. 'But—pardon me, professore—what I do not see even now is how you propose to protect them better than I can.'
'From the KGB?'
'Even from them—in this place. It has been held before against enemies, you know. Once even by an Englishman—
one of King Roger's mercenaries.'
Audley cocked his head. 'That wouldn't be Robert of Selby, would it?'
'You are an historian—?' Narva seemed surprised, then suddenly gratified. His hand came up again in that curious slicing gesture of his. 'But of course! You are
He held this castle for eighty days against the German emperor Lothair in the year 1137.'
'Successfully?'
'The Germans went away in the end—they usually do. The sun is not good for them, I think.'
'I'm afraid it won't drive away the KGB, signore. And it certainly won't stop George Ruelle.'
'But you can?'
'I can do better than that.'
'How?'
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'By taking away their reason for coming here in the first place.' Audley paused. 'And I can do that if I know the name of Hotzendorff's contact in Moscow, Signor Narva.'
Narva stared at him for a second, then shook his head decisively. 'But I do not know that name. I have never known it—it was the one thing the Little Bird would never tell me.'
The Little Bird: Narva's use of the code name meant that they were through, really through, at last. But, ironically, it looked like being a barren success.
'What did he tell you?' There was no disappointment in Audley's voice, however, only urgency.
Narva thought for a moment, as though marshalling his memories the better to bring them over in good order.
'First, you must understand one thing, professore—and you
—' Narva included Boselli, '—that I did not suborn this man, I did not bribe him. He came to me of his own free will, unasked.'
Audley nodded. 'We accept that.'
'He told me that he was a courier working for the British. He told me his code name—he said there would be ways for me to check up on that if I wanted to. ... He said that he had discovered a source of information which I might find valuable. It had nothing to do with his work as a courier. He regarded it quite simply as his own property, to be exploited for his own benefit.'
'What made him come to you?' asked Richardson.
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'He trusted me, Signor Richardson,' said Narva tightly.
'I'm sorry, signore—I didn't mean that. I mean—when he came to you in '68 you weren't involved in the North Sea. But Shell-Esso and BP and Xenophon and Phillips already were, so the information was worth much more to them than to you.'
'The North Sea was not mentioned when he came to me.'
'Not—mentioned?' Richardson gaped.
'He did not say one word about it, signore. He said he had a source of confidential information about Russian oil policies.
Nothing more.'
'But that interested you?' said Audley.
'Mildly,' Narva shrugged. 'As you know, this country imports substantial quantities of oil from the Soviet Union. It was running at about 16 per cent of our total needs in '68, and the figure is a good deal higher now. But what was interesting me at that time was the possibility that at some stage the Russians would approach the West for assistance in developing their oil industry.'
'Is that likely?' asked Richardson.
