'I would have thought that was obvious, Captain,' said Montuori. 'Since they have not stopped Dr. Audley from taking action, then they must want him to do some of their work for them.'
'But they don't need him, sir. If they already know about Little Bird—'
'But they don't,' Audley cut in.
'What do you mean?'
Audley sighed. 'I mean the Russians know nothing about Little Bird—or about Faith.'
'But Ruelle—and Korbel—?'
'Ruelle and Korbel—yes, they know. . . . But tell me, Peter, what do you know about Ruelle and Korbel?'
'They work for the KGB, damn it.'
'Ruelle did once maybe, but a long time ago—and Korbel won't for much longer. They are two old men, Peter. Two failures who have outlived their usefulness, and they know it.
And for that reason they have become very dangerous.'
'You think Ruelle is acting independently?' said the General.
'Without official sanction?'
'I don't think, I know.'
'How?'
'Because he told me so, General Montuori. When he abducted my wife at Ostia he made it very clear to me that he was answerable to nobody, and that I was to deal only with him.'
'And what does he want of you, Dr. Audley?'
'He wants the name of the high-ranking official who leaked the North Sea oil strike to Richard von Hotzendorff in 1968.
He also wants—or Peter Korbel wants—the details of the report Hotzendorff made.'
'And just what does he propose to do with those items?'
'That he didn't say. I can only guess that Korbel believes the report is worth a fortune still. But as for Ruelle—' Audley shook his head '—perhaps he thinks he can use that name to restore his own. I don't know whether it's power or mischief that he's after— maybe both.'
So that was it, thought Richardson: not a deep-laid Russian plot after all, but a stratagem by two twisted, embittered old men!
They had known each other once and had maybe met again to curse the ill-fortune which had betrayed them, and the years which had left them high and dry, and which were now dummy2
fast running out on them. So naturally they had jumped at the last unexpected chance which Hemingway the librarian had dumped in their laps.
And equally naturally, because they were old men and losers, the chance had gone wrong on them, first on the stairs at Steeple Horley and then in the hot, dusty streets of old Ostia.
After that the stakes had become life and liberty as well as money and power.
'Mischief—yes, that is Ruelle,' murmured the General. 'And they used someone else to make you do what they know they are not capable of doing—that is Ruelle too. The Bastard still runs true to form.' He looked at Audley shrewdly. 'What exactly were his terms, then?'
'They will hold my wife until they have used my information.
Then they will let her go.'
'And you believe that?'
'No, not a word of it,' Audley shook his head. 'Until I give them what they want Faith is safe, I believe that. But after that we'll both know too much to be left alive—I know how Ruelle's mind works.'
'He'd finish both of you, yes—I see you understand the animal.'
'I understand him perfectly, General.'
Audley sounded calm and collected now, as though the hideous problem of saving his wife's life was an academic one divorced from reality.
dummy2
'That's all ruddy fine, David—understanding how the Bastard ticks. But he's still got Faith and you haven't got one damn thing to trade for her even if he was on the level.'
'That's true, Peter.'
'And you don't know where they've taken her, sir?'
'Regrettably—no.' Montuori shook his head. 'We have one witness who saw a woman answering to Signora Audley's description in a car with several men on the road from Ostia Antica to the autostrada to Rome. That is the last we have seen of any of them.'
'Well, if Narva hasn't got the answers—and if Frau Hotzendorff hasn't either—what the devil are we going to do?'
