For the Good of the State

That was decidedly unreassuring. Except that presumably Audley and Panin both knew what the other was thinking.

‘But there is another possibility. Which the traumatic events of this day suggest, actually. Though we must be careful not to “make pictures”…’

Now they were coming to it. Because anyone might have followed Audley so far—or even preceded him. But this would be pure Audley.

‘That pot-shot at me… it was quite outrageous—altogether monstrous.’ Disappointingly, the old man seemed to go off at a tangent suddenly, speaking almost to himself. ‘Yet—I cannot say that I was overwhelmed with surprise.’

‘No?’ That was true, for Tom’s recollection was of a blazing rage rather than surprise. What was surprising now was that Audley Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State sounded like nothing so much as an elderly vicar musing sadly on an outbreak of hooliganism in his hitherto peaceful rural parish, for the benefit of his innocent curate.

The Reverend David Audley sighed. ‘There are some very violent types around these days. But then there always have been, I suppose.’

Tom remembered what Jaggard had said on the phone. ‘And you must have made a few enemies in your time, David.’

‘Yes. Haven’t we all?’ The Rev. David sounded properly philosophic. ‘However, as I recall, I was surprised that the blighter missed me.’

‘Not to say also gratified.’ Tom couldn’t resist the curate’s murmur.

‘Eh? Yes—of course.’ The old man had only half heard him. ‘So that was either gross incompetence… But often people are incompetent, it has to he admitted. Yet it could also have been a deliberate act, just to frighten me, or warn me… or even to encourage me to get my skates on.’

There was perhaps the faintest orange tinge to the night sky ahead, which could be either the westwards motorway junction or the city of Bristol itself. ‘But you didn’t think it was Panin, David.’

‘No. Or… if it was, then it has to be a deliberate miss. Because his man wouldn’t have been incompetent. But that, in turn, means that he’s running very scared, and he needs me— me, of all people!—

very badly, for some reason.’

‘Some reason?’ It wasn’t fear in the old man’s voice now: it was something more like satisfaction. ‘What reason?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘God knows!’ It was satisfaction. ‘Interesting, though, isn’t it!’ He fell silent, and Tom decided to let the silence work itself out without rising to it with fool questions.

‘Yes…’ Audley nodded eventually. ‘It was a long time ago…’

Tom waited for two miles, watching the red-orange glow in the distance. Driving towards Hell would be like this, he thought. And then wished he hadn’t thought such an ill-omened image. ‘What was?’

‘Eh?’ Silence again. ‘When I first met Panin, Tom. We knew so little about him… But then, of course, he was an internal security man: he’d never really messed us around. He really wasn’t particularly interested in us even then… Though it seems he became quite interested in me thereafter…’

Another silence.

‘Knowing people is really what our work is all about now—who’s who leads to what’s what. Machines can do most of the donkey-work now: spies-in-the-sky can do the damned spying… It’s who they are, and what’s in their minds, that matters.’ Audley sniffed. ‘I remember…’ But then he trailed off.

Tom was equally grateful that he dropped ‘Darling Boy’ and his irritatingly friendly ‘Nikolai Andrievich’ as the memory of that first meeting came back to him. ‘You remember?’

‘Yes.’ The old man’s voice was suddenly cautious. ‘It was about the time I met my wife… But tell me, Tom: did your dear mother remember me?’

‘What—?’ The sudden change in direction caught Tom Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State unprepared. ‘She remembered you very well, David.’ Obviously, the memory of the woman who had said ‘yes’ to him had drawn him back to an earlier memory, of the woman who had said ’no‘.

‘She did?’ On its surface Audley’s tone was exactly right. But there was something beneath that casual self- satisfaction.

‘Yes.’ Or… perhaps he had seen Tom put the phone down and then pick it up again. ‘Yes.’ But he couldn’t have seen that. But he could still be checking. ‘She particularly remembered a fancy dress ball. She went as Beauty. And you went as… The Beast, David—?’

Silence. And what was coming up ahead now was the M32

exchange to Bristol City, with the larger M5 interchange to the West, and to Wales and the North, promised just beyond.

He didn’t want to know about Mamusia’s youthful love-life, anyway. Or, anyway, not at this moment—at this moment he wanted to know more about Panin.

‘It seemed a good idea at the time,’ said Audley. ‘We’d just seen Cocteau’s La Belle et La Bete— the film. That was what gave us the idea.’

He didn’t want to know about old films, either—

‘Jean Marais played The Beast. I can’t recall the girl’s name, who played Beauty. But Danny—your dear mother, Tom—she was far more beautiful.’

Audley seemed to have forgotten Panin altogether, never mind that bullet of his. And never mind Basil Cole, too.