Here Be Monsters

Audley continued to look at her as he pressed the button. 'Don't bother to apologize. I'd hate that.'

Thirty years with Father, who had been a fully paid-up life member of the Never Apologize Society, had at least inured her to that weakness. 'I wasn't going to.'

He relaxed, and became almost his old self again. I'm glad to hear it. I am seldom wrong, but it's always good to have one's judgment vindicated by events.'

To the extent that he had recommended her recruitment, she was his invention. But if he was reminding her of that he still had a lot to learn, in spite of his seniority and experience, she decided as the lift-doors opened.

'Dr Audley - Madam.' A Mrs Harlin-class battle-cruiser was waiting for them in what must be Xenophon's Holy of Holies. 'I'm so sorry about the lift, Dr Audley.' She gave Elizabeth a tripod-masted look. 'Sir Peter will see you now.' She indicated their route, through another of Xenophon's exotic jungles. Except that those couldn't be real flowers surely, could they?

'Shall I lead the way?

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'By all means.' Audley bowed slightly to Elizabeth as the woman moved ahead. 'After you, Miss Loftus,' he murmured.

'Thank you, Dr Audley.'

'And God help us - ' As she passed him she heard the rest of his murmur ' - Peter Barrie and David Audley, both.'

5

Elizabeth looked about her in surprise.

'Home from home, maybe?' Audley had been looking round too. And he was also surprised.

That was just about exactly right, thought Elizabeth. Or, anyway, it didn't look like a Xenophon room: no company symbol, no green-and-gold colour scheme, no expensive furniture - and, above all, no vegetation, apart from a spindly Busy Lizzy plant on the window-sill. The books in the shelves were mostly paperbacks, and many of them looked as though they had been well-read. In fact, the whole place looked lived-in, as nowhere else in the great tower had been, or ever could be. It was like a suburban flat - almost tatty, even.

Audley picked up the paperback which lay on the coffee-table, with a slip of paper in it marking the reader's place.

'Henry Williamson - A Fox Under My Cloak.' He made a thoughtful face. 'Paul would approve of that. Ypres 1915, is it, this one?'

'Among other places.'

Elizabeth turned towards the voice.

'I've only just discovered him properly. I thought he was merely the author of Tarka the Otter, who ruined himself by backing the fascists in the thirties. It makes me ashamed, how ill-read and ill-informed I am. Hullo again, David Audley.'

He was as tall as David, but thin, almost gaunt, where David was proportionately big. He dummy2

reminded her slightly of pictures she had seen of George Orwell.

'And hullo again, Peter Barrie.' Audley replaced the book where he had found it, taking care to keep the marker in position. 'Though, in the circumstances, that hardly seems adequate, after all these years - don't you think?' He bent down and adjusted the book.

'1958 - was that a good year for claret?'

Sir Peter shook his head. 'I don't think I bought much wine that year. I was in somewhat straitened circumstances - remember?'

There was something between them which was too big to be communicated except in small talk. So that was why Audley had been… the way he had been, perhaps? 'So you were. Although you wouldn't have bought any '58 in '58, anyway. I bought some '49 in that year. It cost me a fortune - I should have bought it before and kept it longer. One so often does things too late. My wife's into early English water-colours at the moment.' He shook his head sadly. 'Far too late.'

Sir Peter was looking at her. 'Introduce me, David.' Audley gave her a vaguely apologetic look. 'There! I've done it again - or not done it.' He turned the look back to Sir Peter. 'I got bawled out by General Razzak in your front office not five minutes ago for just the same thing - would you believe it?'

Sir Peter continued to study her. 'General Razzak?'

'None other. And as he's here to see your Colonel Saunders he's probably rather miffed with you, as well. For upsetting his security arrangements in Cairo at the last moment -

would that be it?'

Sir Peter smiled at her suddenly. 'Probably.' The smile had an oddly conspiratorial quality, as though he wanted to share it with her. 'You know, he's not going to introduce us. But I believe you are… Miss Loitus? And I am Peter Barrie.'

His hand was gentle. 'Sir Peter.'

'And you are a colleague of David's?'

'A junior colleague, Sir Peter.' Just as suddenly as he had smiled, she knew why he had done so. 'His manners were always bad, were they? Even back in 1958?'

'Always bad.' He nodded agreement. 'But one must not be offended by them.' He glanced at Audley. 'I have some dealings with a man who thinks very highly of you, David. You have had dealings with him a few years ago. Eugenic Narva.'

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'Oh yes?' Audley ran his eye along the bookshelf idly. 'I seem to recall meeting him once, yes.'