Here Be Monsters

apart from fascinating? ' - educational, Sir Peter.'

They looked at each other, each slightly off-put by her choice of adjectives.

'How - 'educational', Elizabeth?' Audley got in first.

He was no longer an ally, she thought. When they'd entered this strange room, which was suspended in time as well as space, it had been two-against-an-absent-one. But now, with the way David remembered Peter Barrie after twenty-six years, it was two-against-one -

and she was in the minority.

'More than that.' Two-against-one, then! 'If this room is vintage 1958 - ' At least that was an improvement on 1944, which was before she'd been born! ' - then tell me about 1958, for a start, please.'

The allies consulted each other again.

'How much does she know, David?'

'Practically, sod-all, Peter. I'm just her minder - I'm not a bloody KBE-tycoon, like you.'

'Yes. But I received your message.'

dummy2

'And cancelled your trip to Egypt, Sir Peter?'

'Yes, Miss Loftus. But that's what comes of having a bad conscience - even after twenty-six years.' He cocked his eye at his ally. 'Who was it said no one could afford to buy back his past?'

Audley grimaced at him. 'God knows. It's certainly not Kipling.'

What had Audley put in his message, to stop Sir Peter Barrie's Egyptian trip, and bring General Muhammed Razzak hot-foot to the Xenophon Tower? It was obvious that neither of them was going to tell her - they were waiting for her to tell them.

So she had to hit them with what she had. 'Squadron Leader Thomas, Sir Peter?'

''Squadron Leader'?' He reproduced Audley's 'reaction.

This time, she would wait for an explanation.

He was looking at David. 'How many planes did Haddock destroy?'

'Six.' Audley raised his huge shoulders interrogatively. 'Or ten if you include the Luftwaffe.'

'Eleven - if you include the Tiger Moth during training.' Sir Peter held up one hand, with its fingers spread wide. 'He lost seven British and hit four Germans. But they were only probables, weren't they?'

Audley shook his head. 'I think you've got to count them. Allowing for the number of missions he flew - to be fair.'

'Very well. Four of them.'

'He may have hit others.'

'Possibly.' The five fingers bunched into a fist, and then sprang open again. 'Shot down twice - once over France, and walked home - once by the Americans - right?' He grasped two fingers with his other hand.

'That was bad luck - the second time, Peter.'

'Bad luck - good luck - ' The three remaining fingers remained standing ' - if you ask me, he dummy2

was born lucky, was Haddock.'

'You could say that,' agreed Audley. 'Compared with some.'

'With most.' Two fingers and a thumb, actually. 'Came down hard twice - once, battle damage… once, engine failure - four - right? Plus the Tiger Moth.'

Audley rocked uncertainly. 'By the same token, I lost four tanks - if you count two which broke down in England, during exercises on Salisbury Plain, Peter.'

'Four.' There was only one finger left. 'Ditched twice - once off Eastbourne Pier - or Brighton Pier, or somewhere - ' The thumb disappeared, but a new finger came up instead

'… and once on D-Day, when the British shot him down - and the Americans picked him up, which cancelled out the previous offence, he used to maintain… which makes seven all told, agreed?'

'Sir Peter - ' For Elizabeth, that was enough of Haddock Thomas's wartime career for the time being ' - I was referring to… to later on, after the war.'

'You never told me about those four tanks of yours, David.' Sir Peter addressed Audley, ignoring her.

'Losing tanks is boring.' Audley took the first volume of Powicke's Henry III and the Lord Edward from her, and replaced it beside its comrade. 'Tell her about 1958, Peter.'

'But you know more about that.'

Audley adjusted the books in the shelf. 'I can tell her my version any time. But mine is the official record. And who believes the official record?' He trued-up the line of books, until they were like guardsmen on the Horse Guards, waiting for the Queen to inspect them.

'Yours is how it really was.'

Sir Peter Barrie presented a suddenly-different face to her - not his remembered Tavistock Street face, but his Xenophon Oil one. 'Why d'you want to know, Miss Loftus?' He blinked, and the friendly Tavistock Street face was back again. 'After all these years - ?'

'Because it's her job, Peter.' said Audley.