For the Good of the State

‘Zarubin, David.’

Audley found a suitable tuft of grass on which to kneel. ‘Uh-huh?

Who’s “they”?’ He reached over the edge. ‘In Zarubin’s case there must be a fairly long waiting-list for that honour—’ He wrenched at something out of Tom’s view ‘—but presumably these would be Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Poles, of course… eh?’ He gave the unseen bit of rock another wrench.

‘Terrorists,’ said Panin.

‘Terrorists—naturally…’ Another wrench ‘… freedom fighters, partisans, guerrillas . . .franc- tireurs, Robin Hood’s “Merry Men”, UNITA, IRA, ENOSIS, Weathermen, ETA—join the bloody club:

“He crucified noble, he scarified mean, He filled old ladies with kerosene;

While over the water the papers cried,

‘The patriot fights for his countryside!’ ”

- it’s all old hat, Nikolai. We’re used to it, long before from our own late imperial past, even before these more indiscriminate times. And so were your Tsarist predecessors, actually—‘ He twisted towards Tom suddenly ’—it’s tougher than I thought, this rock— Poles is what he means, I suspect.‘

‘Poles, yes.’ Panin surrendered. “They call themselves ”The Sons of the Eagle“.‘

‘Do they now!’ Audley abandoned his efforts, straightening up and brushing the dirt from his hands, though still on his knees. ‘Boh Da Thone, in Burma in the ’80s—the 1880s— he killed under the Peacock Banner. At least, according to Kipling he did. But with the Poles the bird would have to be the good old- fashioned eagle, of Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State course.‘ He stood up, shifting his attention from his grubby hands to the damp patches on each knee of his trousers. ’ “Sons of the Eagle”? Can’t say that I’ve ever heard of them, though. Have you, Tom?‘

‘No.’ It occurred to Tom that Audley hadn’t been indiscreet, he had deliberately set out to establish Sir Thomas as his Polish expert as part of his frontal attack on Panin. Indeed, he no doubt assumed that Tom was an expert, just as Jaggard had probably done. But there was nothing to be done about that now. ‘No, I haven’t.’ He looked at Panin questioningly.

‘They are the violent element in what remains of Solidarity, Sir Thomas.’ The Russian’s voice was flatly matter-of-fact. ‘They are terrorists.’

Tom felt Audley’s eye on him. ‘Solidarity has no violent wing. It never has had. Neither Walesa nor the Church would allow it, David.’ He shook his head. ‘No way.’

‘I see.’ Audley pursed his lips. ‘So Marchik was an accident, then?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Tom wished he felt more confident. ‘I said that Solidarity is non-violent, that’s all,’

Audley rubbed his chin thoughtfully, leaving a smear of dirt on his jaw-line. ‘Of course. But it’s all academic, really—’

‘Academic?’ Tom had to control his Polish half. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Yes. Where state violence is institutionalized there can be no distinction between violence and non-violence in anti-state activities: they are either treason or criminal lunacy—you either Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State get the bullet, or regular injections down on the funny-farm.’

Audley returned to Panin. ‘But that’s in your backyard of course, Nikolai. So… academic, as I say. Whereas your present problem is here— and definitely not academic, obviously.’

This time the Russian gave not the slightest hint that Audley’s latest insult had touched the wolf inside the sheep’s armour; if anything, he seemed more relaxed. ‘Your problem too, David.’

‘My problem?’ Audley feigned theatrical surprise. ‘My dear fellow, now that you have most economically explained to me what is about to happen, I can descry no very great problem. Your masters, in their wisdom, have posted the unspeakable Zarabin here

—presumably because they regard London as a relatively safe billet. Or maybe it’s a genuine promotion—? As a reward for presiding over the elimination of that poor unpronounceable priest

—“Father George”, shall I call him? Though, on second thoughts, it can hardly be that, for the work was not well-done—’ He pointed a dirty finger at the ditch ‘—not like that— that is a damn good ditch!’

‘No—’

‘ No— I agree! But, nevertheless, we shall bend every thew and sinew to save Zarubin’s unworthy hide, now that you’ve warned us. And, in my case, all the more so because of yesterday’s traumas

—or should it be “trau-mae”—?’ Audley switched to Tom without warning, and caught him in the midst of another bout of incredulity.

‘ “Traumata”,’ he answered automatically. What this last mock-flippancy reminded him was that Audley hadn’t forgotten Basil Cole, as for a moment he appeared to have done. But the old man Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State was still set on goading Panin, of course. ‘ “Traumata”, David.’

‘Ah! From the Greek, of course!’ Audley fielded the word happily.

‘To my shame I only did Latin, so I’m really only half-educated.

Or altogether uneducated, as my old classics master always maintained.’ Back to Panin. ‘But yes… we shall of course do our best. So when your “Sons of the Eagle” liquidate Zarubin, we shall catch them, and put them away for life.’ He shrugged. ‘Of course, you will get some damn bad publicity, during the trial, when all the dirty laundry about Father George comes out… The newspapers will have a ball with that, tut-tutting hypocritically about wickedness begetting wickedness. But it’ll only be a nine-days’

wonder, and everyone will soon forget again.’ He cocked a shrewd eye at Panin. ‘And, anyway, a mad dog like Zarubin is probably best put down—won’t your masters be secretly quite relieved to be disembarrassed of him? Won’t it actually make things easier in Poland, in the end—?’