he said. 'Get the car, Aske.'
But Aske, once he had manoeuvred them through the narrow streets of the old city, and round its descending hairpin bends, was still hell-bent oh needling Paul into talking, even if his undeterred approach to the problem was as tortuous as their departure from Laon—
'I'll book the hotel when we get to Paris,' he began innocently.
Paul grunted.
'In Lautenbourg? Or will nearby do?'
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'Suit yourself.'
'There's a place about ten kilometres away that does
No reply.
'How many rooms shall I reserve?'
'What?' The question caught Paul unguarded. 'What the hell d'you mean—how many rooms?'
'Don't take on so! Is Audley coming alone?'
Paul subsided. 'Yes . . . alone.'
'Four rooms then. And for how long?' Aske probed gently.
'And where after that?'
Again Paul didn't reply, and Elizabeth knew that this approach wasn't going to work either. All it would produce was another explosion.
'We are retracing the escape route between Lautenbourg and Coucy-le-Chateau, I take it?' persisted Aske.
There was only one way to defuse Paul, and she had to risk it.
'We do actually know the route then, Paul? Would that be from Father's notes or from Tom Chard's story?'
He drew a breath. 'A bit of both, actually. We've traced three places where he stayed, and they fit in well enough with Chard's account.'
'Yes, but—' began Aske.
'Father got it right, did he?' Elizabeth blotted out Aske deliberately.
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'Oh yes . . .' Paul gave her an uncharacteristically shy look
'. . . he got it right. He was slow . . . and he let himself be side-tracked into investigating Abraham Timms, the quartermaster's mate, when he should have been concentrating on Colonel Suchet. But he was right.' He paused. 'And, to be fair, Abraham Timms sounds an interesting character.'
'Yes?' She didn't want Aske to break in.
'But then they were all interesting characters—'
'Hold on a moment,' said Aske. 'I want to pull in here.'
The signs of a garage came into view suddenly.
'You said you'd filled up last night,' accused Paul.
'Yes.' Aske unstrapped himself. 'Won't be a moment.'
The bonnet went up, and Paul fumed silently until Aske came back.
'All interesting characters, you were saying?' Elizabeth stepped between them again as the car pulled on to the road.
'Chipperfield was a natural born escaper—he thought one jump ahead all the time, it looks like, reading between the lines.'
'How—one jump ahead?'
'Well . . . first, he reckoned there'd be a big search, with all the stops pulled out—this is drawing conclusions from what Tom Chard remembered. And he did exactly the right thing, so our experts say.'
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'What was that?'
'He had four or five hours' start, until daylight. They could have made five or ten miles before they had to go to ground.
So if Suchet knew his business, he'd draw a ring round the fortress, maybe ten to fifteen miles out, and move in from there. Can't you go faster than this, Aske?'
'This is fast enough. So what did Chipperfield do?'
Paul sniffed. 'He went to ground in a vineyard half a mile from the fortress. They had scraps of food they'd hoarded, and four bottles of water, and they stayed put there for three days and two nights, not moving.'
'Ah! I like that,' murmured Aske. 'So the ring moved in for the first day—but after that it would move out, on the assumption they'd broken through? Is that it? And then, of course, he'd keep inside the ring, never trying to break through it as it expanded? That's good thinking.' He half-turned towards Paul. 'And then what?'
'He moved in the least expected direction—southwards.'
