A Prospect of Vengeance

before he died, because we needed to know who he really was . . . and then afterwards, when we wanted to know why — or what . . . and then who and how, as well as why.' He stared at her for a moment. 'He was quite a man, was your godfather . . . But, dummy2

then, you know that already.'

He was quite a man, too! She started to think. But then she fought against the thought, amending it mutinously: whatever he was, he was also a clever man — and even that instant of mutual recognition might be part of his cleverness, like a python hypnotizing its prey before swallowing it! So now he was trying to make her think what he wanted her to think, perhaps?

'I know it suited you when he died, Dr Audley.'

'Did it? Well . . . perhaps it did. And perhaps it didn't. Who can tell?' He shrugged again. 'What I know is ... that it doesn't suit me now to be bothered by you. Because I have other work to do — more important work than having to worry about you.' Now, at last, she got his purely-ugly face.

'Which is why I asked 'whose side are you on?', Miss Fielding.'

'But you're on holiday now, Dr Audley. So we're not wasting your official time, are we?' Ian came in again, playing uncharacteristically dirty.

'I don't suppose it would do any good if I told you I have an alibi?' Audley ignored Ian. 'I flew back to Washington the Tuesday after we killed O'Leary — the Tuesday after the Saturday when my very dear Frances died — ?' He switched to Ian suddenly. 'No — ?'

It was the wrong appeal, to the wrong person.

'No.' Audley nodded. 'I didn't think it would.' He sighed. 'And dummy2

you're quite right, of course! It's like an old friend of mine is always reminding me, about what the centurion said to Christ, according to St Matthew: 'I am also a man under authority, having soldiers under me; and I say to this Go!

And he goeth'.' He gave them both a twisted grin. 'It's what he calls 'one of the hard sayings'. Meaning that authority and action and responsibility are all the same thing in the end. So that won't do will it?' He smiled at her. 'So we have a problem. Because you won't believe me unless I tell you what I'm not at liberty to tell you. And even if I do tell you, then you may choose not to believe me. So I'm into a Catch-22

situation, it seems.'

'And so are we, Dr Audley.' If Ian had liked the St Matthew throwaway line, he didn't show it. 'Didn't he say — on the telephone?'

'Oh yes!' Audley bowed slightly. 'You've 'raised the devil' — ?

And now he's after you — is that it?'

Suddenly Jenny wanted Reg Buller badly. Audley was playing with them, and Ian was still too screwed-up about Frances Fitzgibbon to think as straight as he usually thought. And even she was having trouble with Audley's sharp image imposed on her memory of Philly.

'Where's Reg, Ian?' What they needed was Reg Buller's no-nonsense brutality: Reg had no hang-ups about Philly or Frances, let alone Audley.

'Yes — ' Ian raised his binoculars again ' — he has rather taken his time. But — yes, he is coming now, Jen — see?' He dummy2

lowered the glasses and pointed at a distant dust-cloud in the valley between the Greater Arapile and the lower ridges opposite, across the intervening cornlands which had once been another foreign field that was for ever England.

'Actually . . . we've begun to think that it may not have been you, Dr Audley — see there, Jen — ?'

'What?' The information casually dropped after Ian's advice to Jenny, that Buller was approaching at last, caught Audley flat aback. 'What d'you mean?'

'Mrs Fitzgibbon — ' Ian squared his shoulders, while pretending to concentrate on the foreign field, like a French general watching the advance of the British Army ' — she was Paul Mitchell's girl, wasn't she, Dr Audley?'

That couldn't be the question — there had to be more than that!

'What?' Audley frowned.

It couldn't be the question — even though it fulfilled the 'I-already-know-the-answer' criterion.

'Frances Fitzgibbon was Paul Mitchell's girl — was she, Dr Audley?' But Ian stuck to his gun like a brave Frenchman with the dragoons upon him, nevertheless.

'No.' Audley shook his head slowly. 'Actually, she wasn't.

Although he would have liked her to be. But. . . she wasn't anybody's girl. Not even her husband's, I rather suspect. . .

But... I don't really see what Frances Fitzgibbon has to do with you, Mr Robinson.'

dummy2

'Or Paul Mitchell, Dr Audley?' Jenny came in on his flank.

'You asked us which side we're on, Dr Audley.' Ian came back on cue. 'But we don't know for sure whose side anyone is on, now. All we know is that we're in trouble — like Miss Fielding said. And we think you're the only person who may be able to help us.'

That really was the truth. And, of course, who better than Ian to pronounce it?