War Game

'But you have some evidence that the men in the car were the killers?'

'I can't say that yet, sir.' The voice was hard as toughened steel now; Weston was thinking new thoughts and connecting up old facts with them. He would have thought them eventually, but this way he was being pushed towards them. 'I'll let you know in due course, Dr. Audley.'

'I'm afraid due course won't do, Superintendent.'

'And I'm afraid it will have to do.'

'No, it won't.' Steel cuts oak— diamond cuts steel. 'Look, Superintendent ... I can make you answer me, but it will take time and effort. I don't mind making the effort, but I can't spare the time—neither of us can spare the time. So don't let's waste it while we've still got it, eh?'

That was spelling it out both ways, confirming Weston's new suspicions about Digby's death and Audley's executive authority at the same time. Only the velvet question mark at the end had been a concession that Weston too had an dummy5

authority.

Weston drew one deep, audible breath. 'Very well. It is too early to be sure— we've been at the scene of the explosion not very long and we haven't near finished there. But it looks as though they were switching vehicles, and the bomb went off as they were driving away.'

'And the connection?'

'It was a small bomb. The man in the passenger's seat was actually holding it, it looks like—on his lap, probably.'

Weston paused grimly. 'There was a sawn-off shotgun in the back of the car.'

'Yes?'

For two seconds Weston was silent.

'The man who shot Digby used a sawn-off shotgun,' he said.

Audley held the receiver tightly and forced his eyes to remain open, knowing that if he closed them for even one fraction of an instant he would start seeing pictures. And this wasn't the time for pictures.

'So it's all wrapped up neatly?'

'We haven't established any identification yet.'

But they would, thought Audley. They would. And a dingy room somewhere, with bomb-making materials and ammunition, and maybe an Armalite rule or two. There was always an Armalite. Perhaps there'd be a bunch of shamrocks and a couple of tickets for the Holyhead-Dun Laoghaire boat-train for good measure, too.

dummy5

'Is that what you wanted, Audley?' Weston broke the silence.

'Yes. I don't believe a word of it.'

'You don't—?' The words trailed off into a growl.

'I mean—it's all true and it's all false.'

Pause.

'I think you'd better explain that, Dr. Audley.'

'I will. Where can I meet you?'

'I shall be here at headquarters.'

'But I'm not going to meet you there. We're not playing that sort of ball game any more. This is between the two of us first.'

Longer pause.

'Very well. There's a park about a mile from here—'

Audley relaxed and listened.

2

THE road through the park ran, at the point of the first rendezvous, between an avenue of horse-chestnut trees, which in season no doubt provided a supply of conkers for the patrons of the children's playground on the left, but which now shaded the spectators of the cricket match in progress on the sports ground to the right.

Audley threaded his way between the deck-chairs and picnic-spread rugs to where Butler stood in front of another new dummy5

Princess. It rather looked as though the Department had bulk-bought the new model as a patriotic gesture towards British Leyland's ailing fortunes, he thought irrelevantly.

'Enjoying the game, Jack?'

Butler waited until the batsman had played the ball safely back to the bowler.

'Aye.' He gave Audley a quick glance, and then returned to the contemplation of the game. 'He's in the car waiting for you.'

'Has he said anything more?' Again Butler waited for the sharp snick of the ball on the bat. There was a scatter of clapping from the spectators, though nothing appeared to have happened on the wicket. But then cricket at the level which people like Butler enjoyed it was an arcane pleasure in which a whole afternoon of unrelieved boredom to the uninitiated was an action-packed battle to those who knew what was going on.

'No,' said Butler. 'Except he asked where we were taking him.'