Soldier No More

'D'Auberon asked for it back. So he gave it back.' Roche shrugged at the children. 'What's so surprising about that?'

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'You're sure he had it?' Doubt still nagged at Genghis Khan.

'He wasn't bluffing?'

'Why the hell should he be bluffing?' Roche decided to become irritable. 'Clinton's man said he had it—that was what they were banking on, I told you. And he certainly knew all about it, because he'd looked at it—'

'He'd looked at it?'

'Oh—come on!' He let the irritation flare into anger. 'This is Audley we're talking about—not a bloody Sunday School teacher! Do you seriously think a nosey bastard like Audley could resist looking at it? Of course he bloody- well did!'

Roche was no longer frightened: Genghis Khan stung into any sort of emotion was thereby further diminished. 'That is the point—what sort of man Audley is ... that's what Avery and Clinton set me to find out, because everything else was plain sailing, they thought— they thought he wanted to come back, and they were right . . . and they knew he had the d'Auberon papers, even though they didn't know time was running out on them . . . But they also knew from past experience that Audley's a difficult and contradictory bastard, and if they sent down someone stupid to make the contact—like the time before—then he just might get bloody-minded again, out of sheer perversity . . .'

There were children's cries in one ear, and only the wasps'

endless buzzing in the other.

'He's a Jekyll-and-Hyde character, that's why. It was Dr Jekyll who took the papers, because he owed d'Auberon a dummy5

debt he had to repay, as a matter of honour. . . and it was Mr Hyde who looked at them, to protect himself— and to see how valuable they were.'

'What did he make of them?' Genghis Khan slashed the question at him instantly.

'He thought they were ancient history. But I think Clinton was right—he would have done a deal with us. Mr Hyde would have out-voted Dr Jekyll.' It occurred to Roche belatedly that Genghis Khan might not know Jekyll and Hyde from Laurel and Hardy; he was probably an illiterate sod.

'Yes. Clinton . . .Clinton. . .' Genghis Khan was speaking to himself, nodding to himself in the darkness in there, whispering the name of the man whom he saw as his real adversary.

'That's right,' Roche encouraged him. 'Audley was the key—

Clinton knew that.' If Genghis Khan fancied he understood Clinton, his own stock-in-trade was understanding Audley, and he must press that advantage to the full. 'Maybe he still is the key.'

'What do you mean? If he no longer has the documents—?'

'Yes. . .But without them I'm never going to get on to the Eighth Floor, alongside Clinton. Turning in Audley won't be enough by itself—I'd guess that Sir Eustace Avery has set his heart on getting those papers, and he's not the man to reward failure. Nor is Clinton.' This was a language Genghis Khan dummy5

understood only too well, not least because his own superiors spoke it even more implacably; and in another moment, after Roche had hooked them both together, he would understand it even better.

'So?' Genghis Khan accepted the cold logic so far.

'So this is where I need your help, old boy. And rather quickly, I suspect. Because if I can get my hands on d'Auberon's little nest egg, then we win hands down—I can make a copy of them for you and I get my promotion to where you want me to be. But if I can't, then I'm pretty damn sure someone else soon will. And then we shall both be in trouble, I think—eh?'

He was aware, as he delivered the final threat, which was barbed to lodge irremovably in Genghis Khan's soul, that he was raising his voice against all the competing noises—the dog (which had at last lost the ball), and the children, and the wasps, and the awakening town itself.

'Audley's got a plan, you see,' said Roche. 'Only I don't think it will work. What I need to know is whether you can maybe make it work.'

'Audley has a plan? What plan?'

Roche drew a breath. 'Oh . . . just a simple little mixture of bluff and bribery. He's a ruthless bastard, Audley is: now Dr Jekyll has paid his debt, Mr Hyde is in charge.'

'Go on.'

Roche decided to try again. 'Just who did kill Miss dummy5

Stephanides, by the way?'

The dog and the children had gone again. Only the wasps, his friends and allies, buzzed on regardless.

'I do not know for sure. I can guess, but I do not know, David.'

The 'David' surprised Roche. 'Then guess for me.'

'No. There is no time for guessing. It will be attended to—be satisfied with that. Go on.'

Roche was past arguing. Also, there was a horrible thought rising inside him, like a bloated corpse which had freed itself from the weight of his illusions about the British: it was only Steffy's death which gave substance to Audley's bluff, and if the Comrades weren't responsible for that, could it be that Clinton—?

'Go on, David.'