For the Good of the State

preceding scrutiny as they had approached Mountsorrel’s entrance.

‘May I present Sir Thomas Arkenshaw, late of the Foreign and Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Commonwealth Office, who is here to see that I don’t make a perfect fool of myself?’ Audley rose to the occasion. ‘At least, in so far as I am ever capable of perfection, anyway.’

The Sheep’s hand was small and dry and smooth and warm, but not soft: it was like shaking a skin-tight glove. But the Sheep also registered his own disadvantage, which Tom sensed from experience of those before him who couldn’t make the age and the Polish face fit the English title. ‘Sir… Thomas.’

‘Baronet, Nikolai.’ Audley sounded as though he was about to enjoy himself. ‘Tom hasn’t rendered Our Sovereign Lady—or either of my sovereign ladies—any signal service himself. Or not yet, anyway. Or not signal enough to be tapped on the shoulder with a sword, and told to “Rise, Sir Thomas!” He’s not “Sir Thomas, knight”— he’s a hereditary “Sir Thomas, Baronet” , with no damned merit attached to it, do you see?’

‘Ah!’ The Sheep stopped trying to reassemble Tom from his constituent parts. ‘A lord— ’

‘No.’ Tom was tired of being mocked so early, before the pubs opened. ‘But one of ray ancestors made too much money, Professor. It was just a way of making him pay extra taxes, that’s all.’

‘Is that so, Sir Thomas?’ The Sheep’s deeply-lined and pock-marked face remained effortlessly inscrutable. ‘And that was long ago, truly?’

‘Yes.’ The Sheep was playing the Pugilist’s game, Tom decided.

So maybe he’d better play too. ‘About midway between Tsar Ivan Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State the Terrible and Tsar Peter the Great, actually.’

‘Which is to say, about three-hundred-and-fifty years before Tsar Mikhail Gorbachev, Nikolai,’ said Audley pleasantly. ‘Who is your problem at the moment, I take it?’

‘My problem?’ Panin hardly looked at Audley. ‘Sir Thomas—may I present Major Kazimierz Sadowski?’ He spread a hand towards Stan Laurel. ‘Dr Audley—Major Sadowski—Major, you have heard me tell of the unique Dr Audley? Well, this is he, in the substantial flesh,’ The face-lines cracked their customary grooves into a travesty of a smile. ‘The Major was formerly a tank officer, David. I have told him that you were also once the same, in the Great Patriotic War. So he is now probably trying to think of a British tank large enough for you in those far-off days—was it perhaps a “Churchill”?’

‘No.’ Audley didn’t offer his hand to the Major, only his deepest suspicion. For which Tom was truly grateful, since it at least partially covered his own surprise. ‘It was a “Cromwell”, actually.

Which was probably a lot more comfortable than a T-34. But a bloody-sight less safe.’ As he spoke he frowned horribly at the Major, who also hadn’t attempted to take the hand which hadn’t been offered. ‘But that isn’t a good KGB name, is it— Kazimi-erz-Whatever—? It sounds decidedly… Polish, would that be?’ He stared belligerently at the Major for a moment, but then turned back to Panin as it became obvious that he was no more likely to get an answer than a hand. ‘Polish, Nikolai?’

Panin managed to shrug without moving. ‘You once said to me,

“In my father’s house there are many rooms”—?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘ “Mansions”—not “rooms”, Nikolai.’ Audley faced Panin squarely. “The Gospel According to St John, chapter fourteen. And John also said ” Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold“, I do agree! And he also said a few other things, which are perhaps even more apposite to this morning—like, ” Ye are of your father, the devil“, Nikolai, for a start!‘

Panin turned to Tom. ‘I have made an error, Sir Thomas: I have quoted at him from his own Book!’

‘So you have.’ Suddenly Audley’s voice became cold and hard. ‘

“It is expedient to us, that one man should die for the people!” .’ He turned to Tom, just as the Russian had done. ‘Sorry for the blasphemy, Tom. But this bugger owes us a life, and I’m damned if I’m going to pretend that I don’t know that he knows that he does.’

He fixed Tom only for a half-second before returning to Panin.

‘Tell me about Basil Cole, Nikolai. Because, if we’re going to do any business at all, that’s one expediency I need to know about first.’

Panin stared at Audley. ‘Basil Cole.’ Then he frowned. ‘Basil Cole?’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.’ Sniff. ‘He cut his teeth on you, I shouldn’t wonder—the late Basil Cole, Professor.’

Panin gave Audley three seconds, then he looked around, up and down Gilbert of Merville’s ditches, left and right. ‘I do not like this place. It was your idea—one of your historical ideas, David?’

‘It was your idea, Professor—outside, in the open?’ Audley nodded at Tom without looking at him. ‘Your idea in general. And Tom’s Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State in particular.’ The old man looked down at Panin’s feet. ‘Too dirty for you, is it?’

Panin stared at Tom interrogatively.

‘I think it’s a good place.’ Audley continued before either of them could speak. ‘An appropriate place, anyway.’

That got Panin back. ‘Appropriate?’

‘Yes.’ This time Audley quartered Gilbert of Merville’s long-forgotten work. ‘The mid-twelfth century in England happens to be Sir Thomas’s hobby, and that was when this pile of dirt was thrown together. But I take it you don’t know about the mid-twelfth century in England, Professor?’ Audley smiled at the Russian. ‘In the great days of Kiev, that would be, I suppose—

when Moscow was a muddy frontier settlement?’ The smile broadened. ‘But, of course, you’re safe in the days long before that! Ancient Scythian archaeology—I remember, from the old days…’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m afraid this isn’t sufficiently archaeological, in your meaning of the word, old friend. But not inappropriate, no.’