reassuringly empty except for a young woman exercising her children and her dogs, regardless of the weather. But then suddenly it wasn’t reassuringly empty at all, Tom realized.
Chiefly it was the children and the dogs which disguised Wilhemina Groot initially, because children were not her favourite human beings and dogs were her least favourite animals. But she was also more conventionally disguised in clothes which, to his certain knowledge, had never before featured in her wardrobe: the Willy he knew and now knew that he loved had hitherto either been a smart city girl, dressed by Bruce Oldfield and Yves St Laurent, or a
Tom cursed under his breath, recalling his precise phone instructions, which were the last element of her disguise. It had been her helper he had asked for, as an ally at a pinch, not this complication of Willy herself. But this was unarguably Willy Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State herself now being fraternized by one of a pair of damp and over-exuberant Dalmatian dogs inadequately controlled by a pair of damp children, and he had to make the best of it.
Still, there was a plus as well as a minus in the scene, he told himself desperately: if he hadn’t immediately identified her, then maybe Panin and Sadowski hadn’t either, ahead of him—ahead of him ostensibly to superintend the Zarubin rendezvous, but more likely to get clear of their victims as quickly as possible; to which action Audley had all-too-readily agreed—a worryingly preoccupied Audley (as well he bloody-might be!), but an Audley who was even now four strides ahead of him, on the way back to the parked car; and, at the very least, there was no sign of any of Panin’s own watchers at the moment.
But now he was close to her, and although she had pretended to enjoy the Dalmatian’s affection for Audley’s benefit as he passed her she was looking at him now, and with a much greater desperation than his.
‘There’s a lovely boy, then!’ She observed the Dalmatian’s juvenile owner’s momentary glance at Tom, and hit the dog hard on the jaw with her fist. ‘Hi, Tom!’
The dog emitted an astonished yelp of pain on discovering (as Tom himself had already done) that despite her lack of inches Willy packed a mean punch, and sprawled sideways away from her into the gutter.
The dog’s owner was further diverted by the yelp, but then her spotty little brother, who had been trying to ride the other animal, Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State fell from its back, and added his own anguished cries to the confusion as both Dalmatians set off in different directions.
“They’ve just gone—‘ Willy skipped to avoid her dog as it tried to pull the little girl away from them, in the same direction as its comrade ’—your friends have gone, Tom… They just pulled out, like a bat out of hell… in a grey Austin Montego with dirty number plates—thataway.‘ She pointed past Tom. ’I only just got here. I’m sorry.‘
‘Did they recognize you—’ Tom stopped as he saw her face.
‘Recognize me?’ Her fuse ignited. ‘For God’s sake, honey! You called for help, and you didn’t give us much time—I told you last night, this isn’t
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ In the circumstances that was something less than the truth. But at least she was right: if he himself had only just spotted her, disguised by clothes and dogs and children, then she ought not to have rated a second glance. ‘I was expecting… hoping for… your helper, that’s all, Willy. In the front line, as it were—
that’s all I meant.’
‘ “As it were”?’ She mimicked him. ‘My most efficient “helper” is keeping an eye on us, don’t you fret. Colonel Sheldon wouldn’t like me to come to any harm—Dad wouldn’t take kindly to that.’
But then, in spite of the typical Willy-banter, she was frowning at Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State him with that sure insight of hers, the ignited fuse quite extinguished. ‘Only you didn’t mean that, did you? Because I know you, Tom Arkenshaw. And this is like last night, when I dropped those names, and it was wrong then. But it’s even more wrong now—isn’t it? Isn’t it?’
Tom looked around quickly. He couldn’t see any All-American marine, but at least he still couldn’t see Panin’s back-up either.
Only, Audley had reached the car; and although he was busy kicking one of the Dalmatians right now he could hardly be unaware that Sir Thomas Arkenshaw was busy chatting up some strange young woman when they ought both to be already on the way to Brentiscombe Point.
‘I told you—don’t fret! My “helper” is what you’d call a “pro”, Tom honey.’ She was already grinning, at once wickedly and reassuringly at the same time, as he came back to her. ‘ “Big panic”—or “SNAFU”, as my boss says… only I’m not supposed to know what the “FU” stands for, because he knows my uncle and my dad—is that what you really mean, Tom?’ She almost reached out to him, but then restrained herself. ‘So what do we do now?’
She was lovely. But her helper was all he had for backup, so he owed them both a true signal now, with no pretending. And to hell with Audley, who was looking at him. ‘All right, Willy darling…
Maybe big panic, or maybe the worst is over—I don’t know.’ Then he remembered Audley pocketing ‘the evidence’, and knew beyond doubt that the big man had been concerned to arm himself as best he could. ‘But my guess is there’s more to come—though I don’t see how.’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State She struggled with that for a second only. ‘The worst is over—?’
She was quick, too. ‘We have to get away from here quickly, as well as after Panin. Because there are two dead men in the house, back up there. And even if the neighbours didn’t hear the shots, then there’ll be one of our removal vans here soon enough, and it probably won’t be too healthy. But we have to follow Panin anyway. Because he’s leading us to Zarubin, Willy.’
‘Zzz-Zarubin-?’
‘Don’t ask me how or why. There isn’t time—and if there was, you wouldn’t believe it, in any case. But he’s made us an offer we can’t refuse, apparently.’ Time had run out, once again; he didn’t even need to look at Audley to know that. ‘Have you got a good map in your car?’
The
your big maps, with every goddamn thing on them… like every
