The Memory Trap

merchant banker's smile. 'And my driver will then take you wherever you want to go after that — within reason. Go on, then.'

'Thanks, Matt.' Neither that interest nor those suspicions were surprising: Matt knew too much about the old days, via the adventures of his brother Fred as well as because of friendship and certain mutual favours traded in those days.

And he was himself an unashamed operator in a business where the smallest piece of reliable inside information could always be made to pay handsomely somehow. What was surprising was that neither Jack nor Paul had mentioned the Russian dimension of the supposed emergency.

He picked up the receiver and pressed the buttons. (Maybe Paul hadn't known. But Jack surely would have done —

wouldn't he?)

dummy1

He heard the ringing note —

(Captain Cuccaro would have now. And so had Zimin!) Cover story first, just in case, though.

'Hullo?' Faith answered properly for once, neither giving her name nor her number. 'Who is that?'

'It's me, love.' Also he simply wanted to hear her voice.

'David! Are you in trouble?'

'What?' Everyone seemed to know too-bloody-much: he hadn't even had time to lie — and as far as she knew he was still safe in Washington. 'What do you mean — am I in trouble?' All the half-truths he'd marshalled turned their backs on him mutinously, looking for escape. But he grabbed the slowest of them. 'I was just phoning to say I'm back.'

'Yes. I know you're back. And now you're going to tell me that you won't be coming home just yet.'

'What? How do you know?'

'I've just put the phone down on Jack Butler. He told me to tell you — to tell you if you phoned me — to come in at once.'

The rest of the half-truths were running for cover now, having thrown away their shields and spears. 'Oh?'

'And he didn't sound too pleased.'

And Faith herself didn't sound too pleased, either. 'No?'

'No. And I've been given protection, David, if you're interested.' No one transmitted displeasure down the phone better than Mrs Audley. 'A very nice young man. Who thinks dummy1

the world of you. Although I can't think why.'

'No?' There was a set of Low cartoon originals on the wall of Matthew's study. But it didn't include the famous 1940 one, in which an embattled British Tommy shook his fist against the dark clouds of impending defeat, facing it alone. And that omission switched his own control from Defence to Offence.

'Well, don't forget to get his name, love — he's obviously ready for promotion. But meanwhile . . . give me some bad news: tell me something awful.'

'What?' The tables were turned on that word.

'Tell me something awful.' What was awful? 'Mrs Mills is pregnant again — and the washing-machine has gone wrong . . . And Cathy's fallen in love with the boy who delivers the papers — anything.'

' What — ?' Suddenly her voice changed. 'You mean it —don't you!'

'I mean it — yes!' There was just an outside chance that all this was going on tape somewhere. But, as Jack wasn't the man to squander his resources eavesdropping on someone he trusted, it was on the far outside.

Several seconds ticked away. 'Cathy wants to go to India for her year off before University as a nursing auxiliary. And I've said no.'

Audley agreed with her. 'Change your mind — say yes.'

'What d'you mean? They catch the most awful diseases —'

'I know. But 'yes' will buy us time. 'No' will only make her dummy1

more determined. Just leave it to me.' He began to feel guilty.

But then the genuine awfulness registered, and he didn't.

'Goodbye, love! I'll call you again . . . when I can —'

He put the phone down, and then picked it up again and punched in the well-remembered numbers of the Saracen's Head public house by the river.

'Saracen.'

Teenage female voice. 'Get the boss, dear.'

'Dad's 'avin' 'is breakfast. You'd better call back later.'

There had been a child in the background at the Saracen's Head long ago, he remembered. 'Just tell him it's a friend of Mr Lee's, dear.'

''E won't like it — '

'He won't like it if you don't tell him. Go on! A friend of Mr Lee's.'