For the Good of the State

‘She had a superb dress. Cobwebby lace and pearls, and floating gauze.’ Audley’s voice was dreamy. ‘And I had a superb mask, for Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State The Beast—’

He didn’t want to know about fairy stories and fancy dress balls—

‘But I never got to wear it—’

It had happened in the wrong order— the thought came to Tom from nowhere— Basil Cole’s accident and then Audley’s bullet.

‘I got kicked in the face playing rugger that afternoon. Broken nose and two black eyes, and lips like a Ubangi tribesman. It was so painful I couldn’t get the mask on.’

‘David—’

‘So I had to go as I was, without it—’

‘David—why did they kill Basil Cole in the morning when they were planning to kill you in the afternoon?’

‘But we still won the fancy dress competition. Apparently—all too apparently—I was the beastliest Beast anyone had ever seen,’

concluded Audley. ‘You’re absolutely right, Tom.’

The M4/M5 spaghetti junction loomed ahead. ‘I am?’

‘Yes. That’s the contradictory fact. But only if you look at it from the wrong point-of-view. Plus the fact that Panin’s internal security. Plus ancient history repeating itself, even against the odds.’ Sniff. ‘But then, there are some damn queer things happening over there, now that young Gorbachev’s come to the throne. So maybe that’s not so unlikely.’

The interchange traffic was heavy and fast, racing to reach its weekend destinations and forcing Tom to concentrate for a moment on finding a place in it even as Audley’s words sank in.

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Damned traffic—

And those other, earlier words—

Damned traffic! It was like this all the way to Exeter—

Earlier words—

He found a slot in the overtaking lane at last. ‘You think Panin’s maybe gunning for someone on his own side?’ He frowned as he spoke. ‘But over here? And you got in the way somehow?’

‘I think maybe he wants me to do the gunning. Like before. And maybe someone else doesn’t like the idea. Also like before. At least, it’s a working hypothesis, for a start.’

‘And Basil Cole?’

‘He’s part of the hypothesis.’ Audley sat up. ‘Slow down a bit, there’s a good fellow—you’re beginning to frighten me.’

‘We’re going to be very late if I don’t get a move on.’

‘Let the bugger wait. Or go to bed, for all I care. I’d rather be very late than the late. Just take it easy.’

Tom shifted lanes. ‘Basil Cole?’

‘Oh… that, I think, was Panin.’ Sniff. ‘The bastard.’

‘Even though he wants you to help him?’

‘Even though—yes. Just because he wants help, it doesn’t follow that he wants me to know what I’m really doing… which poor old Basil might have had a lead on. So Panin will tell me just enough, but mostly lies.’

Two enemies, thought Tom. One was usually enough. Plus Henry Jaggard at his own back. ‘While someone else is gunning for you?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘Ye-ess… Nasty prospect, isn’t it?’ Audley sat back again. ‘Still, after Lebanon you must be used to this sort of thing. And we’ll get old Nikolai Andrievich on to my would-be executioner, anyway…

in return for our services.’

‘You’re going to help him?’

‘I’m going to sleep, actually… Wake me up on Exmoor, Tom.’

Not yet, you’re not! ‘You’re going to help him?’

‘Yes, I’m going to help him.’ Audley drew a deep breath and snuggled down in his seat. ‘And I’m also going to pay him back for Basil Cole, Tom. In full.’

6

Tom stared up incredulously at the thin sliver of light which showed through a narrow gap in the curtains of the main window of his bedroom in the Green Man Hotel, Holcombe Bridge.

Not my room? The night wind blew cold on the back of his neck as he forced himself to question his judgement. He had been given the best room in the hotel, the bridal suite no less—the Princess Diana Suite, with dressing-room and sitting room and palatial bathroom as well as oaken-beamed bedroom with a bed the size of a rugger ground; and nothing surprising there really, from past experience of hoteliers presuming that Sir Thomas expected his titled due if it was vacant, and could pay for it; and, in this case, nothing surprising that mere Dr Audley (attendant physician to Sir Thomas, Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State perhaps they’d thought?) had a small room under the eaves nearby.

The thought of Audley made him run his eye along the low bulk of the hotel, darkened now against the starless and soundless night which pressed the Green Man into its fold in the invisible moorland all around. But Audley’s little window was unlit; so Audley, like Panin in the annexe, was taking his rest while he had the chance, it was to