Our man in Camelot

'Special Branch?' He had registered bewilderment rather than surprise.

'Special Branch?' Shirley echoed him. 'What's that?' 'Police, honey—sort of FBI-type police.' He frowned at the first man. 'What can I do for you? Has something happened on the base?'

'We have reason to believe that you may be able to help us with certain inquiries, sir.' The Special Branch man pronounced the formula without emphasising any single word in it.

'What inquiries?' asked Mosby.

'Police!' squeaked Shirley, as though Mosby's explanation had been a delayed-action bomb.

'It's all right, honey,' said Mosby reassuringly. 'What inquiries?'

'I'm afraid I'm not in a position to say, sir. But if you and your wife would be so good as to come with us then I'm sure my superior will be able to tell you.'

'Me and my wife?' Mosby allowed the first hint of outrage to colour this bewilderment. He looked towards Audley. 'What the hell is this, David?'

Shirley squared up in front of the SB. 'For heaven's sake, what is my husband supposed to have done?'

'I haven't done anything, honey,' Mosby snapped irritably, picking up her line instinctively once more.

'Well, they obviously think you have.' She continued to stare up angrily at the SB. 'Now, you—' 'Shut up, Shirley,' said Mosby.

'I will most certainly not shut up. Not until someone tells me what's going on.'

The SB man weakened. 'We'd like you to answer some questions, madam. That's all.' 'What questions?

About what?'

'That I can't say, madam. The questions will be put to you by a superior officer.'

'Honey—' Mosby began desperately. 'Don't 'honey' me. Where's this superior officer of yours, then?'

'If you would be so good as to come with us, madam, please, then we'll take you to him.' 'Why can't he come to us? We haven't done anything.' The SB shook his head. 'I'm sorry, madam.' 'Oh, great! You're sorry. You want us to help you with— inquiries of some sort. But you don't know what. And you want us to answer questions. But you don't know the questions. So you just go on back to your superior and Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

tell him to send someone who does know. Or better still, he can darn well come himself.' She folded her arms defiantly.

Audley cleared his throat. 'I think you'd better go with them, Mrs Sheldon.' He looked meaningfully at Mosby.

Shirley goggled incredulously at Audley. 'What d'you mean 'go with them', David? Whose side are you on?'

'No side. Apparently they only want you to help them with their inquiries—'

'But we all know what that means,' cut in Shirley scornfully. 'We've heard that on your TV dozens of times—and read it in the papers: 'A man is helping the police with their inquiries'—'helping', huh? Why, they're arresting us, that's what they're doing, David.'

'That's not correct, madam,' protested the SB man, deadpan.

'Then we have a choice? We can say 'Go fly your kite—we don't want to help you with your inquiries?''

said Shirley quickly. 'We can say that, huh?'

The second SB man stirred. 'We very much hope you won't say that, madam. We have a car here and we'd be obliged if you came with us. If you refuse to come, then we have a new situation, of course…

and that might require us to act in a different way. But if you haven't done anything, then obviously you haven't anything to fear—right?' He looked to Mosby for support.

'Well…' Shirley allowed doubt to weaken her obstinacy, '… I don't like it at all.'

Mosby turned back to Audley. 'You think we should go along with them, David—you really think that?'

Audley shrugged. 'I don't really think you've got much choice, Sheldon. There's probably been some sort of misunderstanding—if there has been then they'll apologise and bring you back.'

' If—?' Mosby decided it was time to let a small light of suspicion shine through. 'What d'you mean 'if'?'

'I think you had better wait and see.'

Mosby gave Audley a hard look. 'You sound like you know what's going on.'

Audley regarded him with dull eyes, as though they were strangers playing in a boring charade. 'Let's just say I can't help what's going on.'

Shirley stared at Mosby, wide-eyed. 'I don't like it. I don't understand what's happening, but I don't like it. And I think maybe we should phone the embassy.'

'That won't be necessary, madam,' said the second SB man smoothly. 'Not at this stage.'

'Uh-huh? Well, maybe this stage is the stage to phone before there's another stage.' She nodded to Mosby. 'I think you better go phone, honey—just in case.'

It was perfectly obvious that they weren't going to be allowed to phone anyone, and Shirley knew it, Mosby realised. But she was playing the innocent game because it was the only game there was to play, at least until they knew better what had gone wrong. And probably even after that, right to the bitter end.

But the immediate problem was whether—or how far—to call the Special Branch's polite bluff.