Our man in Camelot

remarkably easy one to read.'

'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr Roskill.'

'But you didn't disappoint us—we don't disappoint so easily. It merely made us wonder whether you were who you said you were.'

'Whether-r-who?' Mosby screwed up his face in bewilderment. 'Now you really have to be joking.'

'Stranger things have happened, believe me.'

'You're telling me! They're happening right at this moment. Only—I was thinking—maybe you should check up with my wife. She just might be able to help you make your minds up.'

'Unless she was part of the act, of course.'

'Shirley?' Mosby packed scorn into his voice. 'Oh, come on! I know I'm kind of ordinary-looking, but you'd have to look some to get a ringer for her. And anyway, why the heck should anyone want to claim to be me—or us—for God's sake? What have we got that anyone else could possibly want?'

Roskill shook his head. 'It isn't quite like that, Captain Sheldon. As I told you, we've done a little checking up on you already. And on your wife.'

'And we're a couple of open books.'

'So it would seem. All except the last page.'

Mosby frowned. 'The last page? I don't get you?'

'You don't?' Roskill gazed at him in silence for a second or two. 'But you're interested in King Arthur, aren't you?'

'In—' Mosby matched silence for silence. 'Yes, I am… in a way. But what's that got to do with you?'

Roskill grinned. 'For a man who's promised to give all the answers you ask a lot of questions.'

Mosby lifted his hand helplessly. 'Sorry. You're absolutely right, it's just—hell—okay, ask the questions, then. Yes, I'm interested in Arthurian history.'

'And Badon Hill in particular?'

Mosby drew a deep breath. 'You've been talking to Audley—and that isn't a question. Because if you've been talking to Audley we can cut the double-talk.'

'What double-talk?'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

'He's one of your civil servants. A Special Branch man—or whatever you are—asks him a question, he's not going to tell you to get lost. Or make deals. He's going to talk, right?'

The corner of Roskill's mouth twitched, but he merely nodded.

'Right. Then I guess you know everything I told him— right?' Mosby nodded back. 'So I'm a dentist I don't have to be stupid into the bargain. And I'm not going to ask what's so terrible about looking for Badon Hill, but I'm sure as hell going to think about it until you tell me.'

'My dear man—think away by all means. But we're just rather surprised that your friend Major Davies didn't bother to tell you, that's all,' said Roskill airily.

'He didn't have the chance, is why,' said Mosby. 'He—'

'Yes? He—what?'

Mosby stared at him. 'You sound as though you know.'

'Know what?'

'What Davies was going to tell me—about Badon. The way you spoke.'

'But of course we know. What I'm trying to ascertain now is what you know. Or, to put it rather more charitably, I'm trying hard to believe that you're half as innocent as you seem.'

Mosby's panic button was jammed in the 'on' position and the red lights in his brain flickered like a firework display. The British knew what Davies had been up to. Just like that: they knew, and it looked as though they had known for some time.

He scrabbled desperately in his memory. But only the old bookseller's taped voice came back to him: I told him if it was true it was a great discovery. And he said 'And a great load of trouble, too' . And then Schreiner's voice, leaving no room for misunderstanding: If there's trouble you are strictly on your own… what matters is the CIA remains uninvolved.

Roskill looked at him hopefully. 'Well, do any answers occur to you now, Captain?'

'Answers?' All the possible avenues of action opened up before Mosby briefly, and then the gates closed on all but one. 'For God's sake, you must have the answers. All I've got now is questions.'

Roskill shrugged. 'Very well. If that's the way you want to play it…'

'I'm not playing anything any way. I just—'

'Of course you're not.' Roskill lifted the phone at his elbow and dialled a single number. 'You're just—

hullo, sir… Yes, I'm ready now… No, he hasn't… No, I don't…' He smiled at Mosby 'Yes, he is—and I've got an abscess starting under my first molar to prove it… Quite so, sir— yes. I think he's a good dentist. And I also think he's a good liar.'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

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