Our man in Camelot

in the most unlikely places since Davies's death.

'— Is Harry Finsterwald there?'

The sandpaper voice helped him decide: Gallagher's cover as a moronic CAS sergeant, a character straight out of 'The Flintstones', was if anything better even than Finsterwald's.

'Blanche? Hi, Blanche.' He held the receiver back from his mouth and called through to the sitting room: 'Honey, it's Blanche Castillo.'

'Gee, that's great. Does she want to talk to me?'

'You got someone else there, huh?'

'Yes, Blanche, we're both fine. Do you want to speak to Shirley?'

'Okay. Has Harry and that nigger of his gone?'

'Yes, she has… No, honey—she's calling about some remedial treatment… Yes, Blanche.'

'They heading back to base?'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

'Yes. Are you worried about it? You sound worried.'

'Worried is right. You know an enlisted man named Pennebaker? AIC Pennebaker?'

'Not so as I recall. Should I?'

' If you don't you never will now. He's blown his brains out.'

'He—how's that again, Blanche?'

'He's dead. The British police found him in his car about ten miles from the base. Suicide, it looks like, they say.'

Shirley came to the doorway. 'Has Blanche gotten herself into a tizzy again, honey?'

'Uh-huh… I'm sorry to hear that, Blanche.'

'Not half as sorry as we are.'

'Was he on the short list, then?'

'For the Davies job he was on the short list.'

'Is that a fact? I guess that's where the trouble is, you'll find.'

'Where it was. He had no right to be off base, so it looks as though he decided to run before anyone caught up with him.'

'Certainly looks like that… But you don't go along with the local dentist's diagnosis?'

'The local cops? Officially we do. Unofficially we don't.'

There was a pause. ' You know where this leaves you, fella? Right in the front line, that's where.'

Mosby could see that all too clearly. If the dead man had been a professional planted on the base it would be near impossible to trace his movements and contacts off it, if he would have exercised professional care. But why had his own side silenced him?

'Just watch yourself, that's all. These bastards aren't playing games.'

'I know—and I will, believe me, Blanche. It's nice of you to say so… and I won't forget to tell Shirley too. 'Bye.'

He turned back towards the sitting room slowly, the force of Gallagher's final warning weighing heavily on him. If Pennebaker had been a KGB plant, and not some poor devil blackmailed into sabotage… but the Davies hit had been too cold-blooded for that. So if the man had been a pro, then he wouldn't have been thrown away on some penny-ante operation, but only on something big and nasty which made the loss acceptable if it delayed pursuit.

Shirley smiled at him brightly. 'You solved her problem?'

He shook his head. 'No. But she's going to have to deal with it herself.' He looked at Audley. 'We've got problems of our own, huh?'

Audley nodded. 'I think we have, Mr Sheldon.'

'Mosby. I know it's one hell of a name, but I've gotten used to it—David.'

The Englishman grinned. 'I beg your pardon—Mosby…' Then the grin vanished. 'Before you tell me anything more I think I'd better make one or two things straight.'

'Okay. Shoot.'

'Well, for one thing, if there's been an unauthorised dig—and from what you've said it looks as though there has been—there could be the very devil of a row about it.'

'Does that sort of thing go on?' asked Shirley.

'Not so much now. But there was a lot of unprofessional work with metal detectors not so long ago, and the thing became a bit of a public scandal.'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

'Is it against the law?'

'It could be—especially if there are precious metals found which could be treasure trove, because they have to