For the Good of the State

extremely affable—’

‘Affable?’ Affability had never been one of Jack Butler’s faults in the past.

‘Helpful, then.’ Harvey stretched again. ‘I’m sorry, Henry: I played squash with a purveyor of the Polish non-joke last night, and he Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State beat the hell out of me—I’ve been in agony ever since… No, what I mean is that Butler admits quite frankly that this wasn’t David Audley’s finest hour. And so does Audley himself, apparently.’

‘He does, does he?’ Now Henry Jaggard’s suspicions were fully-armed, so that he was more than ever determined to settle his doubts first. ‘Tell me the Irish joke, Garry.’

“The Irish joke? Okay, then: it’s apparently a version of the Connaught Ranger’s defence, when he was accused of murdering his corporal—back in the Duke of Wellington’s time, during the Peninsular War: he said he hadn’t really murdered the corporal, because he’d been aiming at his sergeant, but his musket threw the ball wide by a yard.‘ Garrod Harvey looked a little disappointed.

That’s a joke, Henry.’

‘Thank you for telling me. I’m laughing inside.’

Garrod Harvey started to shrug, but then his squash-playing injury hit him again. “The word is that the Irish— the INLA—have had Audley on their list for years, ever since that fellow O’Leary was shot, up north somewhere. And there was an old IRA man named Kelly who was killed more recently, down in Dorset somewhere—‘

‘Audley had nothing to do with his death. Neither did we.’

‘This is the rumour, Henry. Which is that Audley’s worked his way to the top of their hit-list. So they were waiting for him when he met Zarubin on Exmoor.’

‘Ah!’ Jaggard had heard that: the Irish were being blamed for the Exmoor Massacre, but he had not picked up the exact details. ‘A case of poor marksmanship, do you mean?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State This time Garrod Harvey’s pain wasn’t physical. ‘Mistaken identity, actually. Because it seems that Audley and Zarubin are about the same build. And they were both wearing Burberry raincoats. So this Connaught Ranger shot the corporal instead of the sergeant, Henry. And then Zarubin’s escort went after him, and also got shot. But the Americans had two of their people on hand—

two women actually, so the story goes… And one of them shot the Paddy before he could correct his mistake. End of Irish joke.’

It sounded like an inside story—but not quite. ‘Nothing about those two “Irishmen” in the house at East Lyn, whom we had to bury?

Or about their Polish passports, and all that “Sons of the Eagle”

literature that was found there? Or is that in the Polish joke—?’

Garrod Harvey didn’t move his aching shoulders. ‘Nothing about them. Or about poor old Basil Cole, either—no! But there is some good Special Branch corroborative detail, all the same, Henry.

Which isn’t so funny, actually.’

Actually… Basil Cole wasn’t so funny, thought Jaggard. ‘What detail?’

‘It seems… it seems… that the INLA took a shot at Audley just the day before, down in Sussex. And missed, so rumour has it.’ For a moment Garrod Harvey looked into space above Henry Jaggard’s head. ‘It is certainly a well-known fact that there were road-blocks out over half Sussex on that day, with the police and the Special Branch as thick as bees in June… or whenever bees are thick.’ He gave Jaggard a blank look.

That was nasty. ‘I thought that was merely an anti-terrorist exercise, Garry?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘Yes.’ The look was still blank. ‘But one about which David Audley might have had certain suspicions, in the end.’

That was enough. ‘Tell me the Polish joke. Or non-joke—?’

‘Non-joke. And Audley doesn’t really come into it—Professor Nikolai Panin has the leading role. And Viking very nearly has another leading one.’

That was even nastier. ‘I can see that it isn’t a joke. Go on, then.’

Garrod Harvey stared at him, like a man trying to remember a joke, but afraid that he hasn’t got the punchline clear in his mind. ‘It begins with General Zarubin becoming surplus to KGB

requirements… or surplus to alleged Gorbachev needs, anyway…

ever since they killed that Polish priest so incompetently—’ He focused on Jaggard ‘—this is still the rumour, Henry. It’s not what I’m saying, you understand —?’

‘Of course.’ But there were limits to credibility. ‘But I don’t see how that was a KGB problem—if that’s what you mean—?’

Garrod Harvey continued to stare at him, but no longer blankly.

‘Zarubin was Panin’s problem. But he also had another problem, Henry—just as you did, actually.’ He cocked his head slightly. ‘In a way it’s almost a mirror-image situation—almost exactly.’

‘A mirror-image?’ Now that he thought about one of his worries, Jaggard could see the force of the analogy. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well… it seems that they knew they had a problem, in the London Embassy—just as you suspected.’ Garrod Harvey adapted himself to Jaggard’s frown. ‘They knew they had a leak somewhere. So Panin decided to use Zarubin as the expendable bait in a trap: he let Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State slip certain information at certain levels, and waited to see how it all turned out.’ He nodded. ‘And Viking picked up his bit, and passed it on to us.’

Jaggard experienced his own twinge. But it was of excitement, not of pain. ‘But we didn’t act on it, Garry.’