A Prospect of Vengeance

''He — or, in this instance, she, of course — she who embarks on revenge should first dig two graves', Miss Fielding.' He tried the valley again. 'The way you're going, it looks as though you'll need more than two, though.'

She summoned Philly to her aid. 'There was a grave dug before we started, Dr Audley. And we — I — didn't dig that one.'

No answer this time: he simply stared at her, testing her.

'You think we're digging our graves now?'

He tried once more, this time gesturing towards the new battlefield of Salamanca. 'Don't you think so, my dear?'

Now she had him. 'I don't quite know what to think yet.

Except ... at the moment the only people I know who might dummy2

want to stop us are yourself and Dr Mitchell.'

'And that man?' He repeated the gesture. (Big, blunt-fingered hand, quite unlike Philly's: she must hold on to that dissimilarity!) 'MacManus— ?'

She could shake her head honestly. 'I don't know who sent him. So ... it could have been you, Dr Audley.' Now she really had his attention. 'To frighten us off ... if Dr Mitchell doesn't like squeezing the trigger, as you say . . . Because you do seem to have succeeded in frightening my partner. And what happened to John Tully certainly frightened me.' The thought of John Tully came to her shamefully late. But, having come, it allied John to Philly and finally hardened her heart against Audley. 'John Tully was acting under my orders, Dr Audley. So what happened to him is my responsibility, St Matthew would say.' She clenched her teeth, knowing that she had almost betrayed Philly because of a freak imagined resemblance which had knotted her up.

But now that was in the past, and she was herself again. 'And Burdett versus Abbot also cuts two ways, Dr Audley: if you think I'm going to walk away and forget John Tully, then you have the wrong woman — ' Even, in fairness, she must make it stronger than that ' — and the wrong journalist.'

He looked at her for what seemed an age. But finally he nodded. 'Well . . . suppose I told you a story, then? How would that be?'

'A story?' Careful, now. 'Fact or fiction?'

'Just a, story, Miss Fielding. An old Chinese story— ?'

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'With nothing promised on either side?'

'With nothing promised on either side — of course!'

'Then I'd listen.' Suddenly she had to play fair with him: that much, from their first sight of each other, she owed him.

'With all my 'rights and duties' relating to Philip Masson and John Tully protected, Dr Audley?'

He nodded again, and the compact was made. 'There was this problem in this Intelligence department, nine years ago —

nine years, give or take a few months, either way-'

'Research and Development — '

' This department — ' He cut her off sharply — ' — because its director was retiring . . . and his deputy had just dropped dead in his tracks, of over-work and a dickey heart. So the question was . . . who was going to run the show?'

The compact had been made, so all she had to do was to nod.

'It was an important job. Because, whoever got it, it opened up a lot of secret — very secret — ultra secret files to him —

okay?'

Him wasn't okay. But she had to ride that, this time. So ...

another nod.

'So we had to get the best man for it — '

She didn't have to ride that. 'But there were two best men, weren't there?' And then she had to pin him down. 'Philip Masson and Jack Butler. And you wanted Jack Butler.'

He looked down on her, and his face became quite dummy2

beautifully ugly. 'It really is quite irrelevant now who wanted who, Miss Fielding. Or, anyway, quite unimportant in this context ... so please don't interrupt.' He set his jaw. 'There was of course the usual manoeuvring and lobbying and fixing that one expects on such occasions — ' Then his face broke up almost comically ' — actually, Fred and I both wanted Jack. And we underestimated the opposition, too. And perhaps that isn't irrelevant, I agree! Because they started testing poor old Jack, to see how he'd measure up. And neither Fred nor I expected that.' He paused. 'And then, so it seemed, Jack nearly got killed on the job — twice in the same week . . . And the second time was within a hair's breadth, so we thought.'

'But it was the other candidate who died, Dr Audley — '

He stared her down — just as Philly had used to do. 'That was an accident, we supposed. And it wasn't our business to inquire into it: that was a police job first, and then Special Branch, with MI5 in reserve.' He drew a breath. 'And they didn't find one thing out of place — anymore than we did, later on.' He let the breath out with the words. 'Everybody did his job properly, believe me.' Finally he nodded.

'Whoever did it was a real pro. And, as Paddy MacManus was O'Leary's side-kick and junior partner then, maybe it was him . . . But we don't know, now . . . And then,