Our man in Camelot

'And after you'd talked to your boss?'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

Audley shrugged helplessly. 'Maybe CIA… but maybe KGB.'

'What?' Mosby felt an insane urge to laugh. 'How could I be KGB?'

'We knew they were sniffing around—one of their better-known London men met Airman Pennebaker in London on Saturday. Only we didn't know where Pennebaker came from until his body turned up two days ago.'

'And then you thought we'd killed him? Oh, brother! I'll bet you just thought that—another home run for the CIA! And he was the guy that knocked out Davies, too. Man! They really fed it to you, just like they fed it to us… so you thought my function was to make sure the British got in on the act, whether they liked it or not. So you'd get tarred with the same brush—wasn't that the phrase?' 'What's that?' Shirley said cautiously. 'The British just don't want to be involved, honey,' said Mosby. 'If the CIA is playing dirty tricks and cover-ups in Britain, and the MI5 was thought to be helping them—that really would be curtains for them too, as well as us. Once their Parliamentary left-wing got hold of that, it'd be Watergate for them too. And even the Conservatives would never forgive them for helping to re-bury King Arthur into the bargain.'

'Why the blazes didn't you tell us what you were doing?' said Roskill suddenly.

'Why the blazes didn't you tell us?' said Mosby. 'Because we weren't doing anything, for heaven's sakes. We were just trying to find out what was going on.'

'And so were we. I tell you—we've both been suckered. It was all laid on before we knew what was happening. They just had one or two witnesses to remove after they'd played their part—like the poor old man Barkham. So now we can never disprove anything.'

'And our two men,' said Frances harshly. 'The coldblooded bastards.'

Mosby swallowed. 'Yeah, I guess them too.' 'Plus one of their own people. And Asher Klaverinsky,'

said Roskill. 'No one can say they're not thorough bastards.' 'I have my doubts about Klaverinsky now.

I rather think he may have lived to fight another day. We only have Major Davies's word for what he had to say, and we can hardly rely on that.'

'And… that?' Frances Fitzgibbon pointed to the sheet of paper Mosby still clutched.

'The Novgorod Bede?' Audley shook his head. 'I don't think we're ever going to know the truth about that now—whether it really did contain those extra words, or whether some clever devil thought the whole thing up. They just can't afford to tell us, so it will have to stay stolen.'

'Probably never left Comrade Panin's bookshelf,' said Mosby.

'Panin?' Audley frowned at him. 'You don't mean Nikolai Andrievich Panin?'

'That's the comrade. D'you know him?'

'Panin!' Audley closed his eyes and struck his forehead. 'Of course I know him—Panin… Well, there's our clever devil, anyway. An archaeologist and a historian—this would be right up his street… How long have you known he was in on it?'

'We had word months ago he was dreaming up something against us. That's why we've been watching out for trouble.'

'I see…' Audley seemed almost relieved. 'And of course he calculated you would—yes, of course he would. It's exactly the way he works: starting something, and then letting the other side do all the work for him. And we did it for him.'

'We?' said Shirley sharply. 'You mean you're still on our side?' She looked at Frances. 'I thought we were the foreigners?'

Anthony Price - Our man in camelot

'Oh, you are, Mrs Sheldon.' Audley smiled lopsidedly. 'But we still need you to defend us—in your own interest, maybe, but we still need you. And so does Western Europe, however badly it may treat you. We need each other, and so long as we do there isn't really a 'your' side and a 'my' side, but only an

'our' side—not when it comes to standing up to Soviet Russia. Not so long as people like me remember Hungary and Czechoslovakia, anyway. Or Warsaw in 1944.'

For a moment Shirley seemed tongue-tied. Then she shook her head. 'Well, what are you going to do about it?'

'I'm very much afraid that there isn't much we can do now—except tell your version and hope someone will believe you.'

'But that isn't going to be good enough, you think?'

'I'm pretty certain it won't be.'

Mosby frowned. 'But Sir Frederick said 'your way was the only way left'. What way was that?'

'I was going to expose you to Billy Bullitt as a possible KGB agent. I was going to pull your story to pieces— right from the unbelievable coincidence of meeting me on that beach. That's why I took the trouble to tell you so much— I didn't want you to be able to show too much surprise at anything, I wanted you to know too much, just in case you were innocent.'

'And what did you hope to achieve by that?' 'Just enough doubt in his mind to delay him releasing the story. I wasn't trying for an acquittal, just a stay of execution.'

'You mean you were playing for time?' said Shirley. 'That's right. Time to dig a lot deeper.' 'So you can still play for time, you can still dig—we'll help you. We'll play KGB agents for you, and the UK

station will do whatever you want.'

Audley shook his head. 'But I don't want to dig anyrrfore, Mrs Sheldon. I'm afraid of what I'll find, frankly.' Mosby thought again of St Swithun's churchyard. 'What do you mean—afraid?' said Shirley.

'I mean we don't even know that we've found all of Panin's traps yet. Knowing him, I think it's possible there are a lot more of them still, and they may be designed to catch us—us meaning the British.' He gazed at Shirley