'1958.'
Twenty-six years ago. He had called it 'our list', but it must almost have been before his time. And, indeed, almost before Audley's time too, since both he and Latimer had also changed horses themselves to come into this thankless service - just as she herself had done, come to that!
'He was forty-two then.' Latimer supplied the answer to a question she had not yet reached; she had been about to think
Of course?
'Two years' teaching. Then the war. Then Oxford again.'
Elizabeth kicked herself. Thomas' was a Welsh name, and Jesus College, Oxford, had still been full of Welshmen in the years before and after the war.
'They offered him a fellowship. But he'd had enough of that, apparently.'
She wrenched herself away from Oxford - away from Turl Street, full of Welshmen from Jesus, and West Countrymen from rival Exeter, and the Taj Mahal restaurant, and the sun slanting down towards All Saints' and the High, so long ago, so long ago… and, but for Father, a fellowship for Elizabeth Loftus?
But -
list - ?'
'No.' He stirred, as though Colonel Butler's chair was becoming uncomfortable. 'It was a rather odd business altogether. It might be better for you to read about it for yourself - ' He gestured towards the empty screen beside him ' - you're cleared for it. All you have to do is punch 'Debrecen' into the computer - D-E-B-R-E-C-E-N. It's all there - what there is of it.'
The name meant nothing to her. But then codenames never did mean anything -
'In fact, there were two lists, Elizabeth.' Latimer squirmed again, and she realized that dummy2
she'd been staring him out of conscience. 'We had one, and the Americans had one. And the Americans eventually shared theirs with the West Germans, against our advice. And we only tipped them off - the Americans - because we needed to curry favour with them, after Suez… If
The two 'in facts' bracketed far more information than she'd expected, even though she still didn't know what it meant. But as there was a chance that he might actually be giving her more than was in the official record in those asides of his, it was worth pushing her luck.
(There were times to push, and times to hold back, and the trick was judging the right time, was what David Audley always preached. And one right time was when your contact was pleased with himself.)
'Two lists?' But how to push? 'Major Parker was on the American list, presumably?'
'He was.' He rewarded her initiative with a tiny flash of approval. 'But we didn't know that at first - ' He waved his hand in a jerky disclaimer ' - when I say 'we', Elizabeth, I don't mean
'Cleared of what?'
'Ah… well, let's just say cleared of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for the present? Audley will tell you.' His hand hovered over the Thornton's box, as though it had a life of its own and was trying to assert itself. 'Suffice it to say that until that comparison, nothing even remotely suspicious had been established against either of them.'
'How good was the vetting?'
Latimer bridled slightly. 'It was… it was good enough, as far as it went.' He frowned. 'No -
it
shall we say that?' The effort of 'being fair' taxed him sorely, she could see: he didn't want to be fair.
But that was not what she wanted right now. 'So they compared the two lists?' She had to keep him moving. 'And came up with the Pointe du Hoc?'
'Not immediately, no. That came later. What they came up with first was Parker's name in Thomas's address book and vice-versa. So
dummy2
'What is?'
He shifted in his chair. 'The Pointe du Hoc - or that particular point in the sea midway between the two American landing beaches anyway, where Parker picked Thomas up.
Because that really was the only connecting link between them which anyone could come up with. They were each on their own respective list in '58, and they'd met just that once in
'44 - and they gave exactly the same account of it, near enough. Apart from those few cards… which they'd stopped exchanging long since… there was nothing else. They both worked for their governments - they were both civil servants. But Thomas had no American connections of any significance, his work was strictly European. And Parker's was strictly South American… or maybe Central American.' He blinked irritably.