The Memory Trap

was as dry as his cough, such an insight was surprising.

'I have had no first-hand experience, of course.' Aston touched his lips with his ever-ready handkerchief, aware of their astonishment but quite unembarrassed by it. 'I am not a military man, and never could be. But... I was in our embassy in Washington during the last days of Vietnam, and for two years afterwards.' He gazed from Renshaw to Audley and back like a tutor with two rather thick undergraduates. 'And during that period I observed some very strange behaviour among some senior officers, as well as a predictable disorientation among those beneath them.' Aston's voice became more pedantic as he spoke. 'It was no surprise. For a long time they believed they were invincible ... in the knowledge that they had never been defeated, or in any real danger of final defeat ... at least, not since 1814. But then, long before the final debacle, the senior officers knew better

— knew better that it was a matter of political will, anyway.

So then they knew that defeat was inevitable, and all their men had died for nothing.' He nodded at them. 'It was more a long corrosion of the spirit. And it happened among some of the very best and bravest of them, who had fought hardest.

One or two behaved quite irrationally, even though their dummy1

actual careers were still assured.' Now he dropped them both, turning to Henry Jaggard. 'And, in General Lukianov's case, I believe you indicated that his career-future is not assured, Henry?' Finally he embraced them all. 'We need to know a great deal more about him, I would think. Because while he may not have been the moving spirit behind whatever plot the three of them have hatched, he will be the action-man.' He even managed a thin smile for Mary Franklin. 'I do not know what the motto of the Russian Spetsnaz force is. But for our own SAS it is 'Who dares, wins', I believe? And I would guess that General Lukianov is daring now. So it is up to us to see that he does not also win.'

He settled on Audley himself. 'Is it possible that, while he was working for you ... or, rather, for the late Sir Frederick Clinton . . . your Major Richardson may have encountered this man Lukianov?'

Butler cleared his throat. 'We have been through everything in the record, Mr Aston — several times. And there's nothing to indicate any connection between Richardson and any living Russian, or even any foreign or suspect contact, who isn't fully accounted for.'

'Apart from which, he wasn't with us very long.' Audley came in without hesitation. Because, when Jack Butler did a job, then it would be well done. 'And he was only a beginner.'

'All of which doesn't mean a thing nevertheless,' snapped Butler. 'It's the man himself we need. Nothing else will do.'

'But the man himself is missing,' Renshaw looked at Audley.

dummy1

'And you think he's coming home, David?'

He had to put his mouth where his money was. 'After Capri

— yes, Charlie.'

'Interpret Capri for us, Dr Audley.' Aston was also looking at him. They were all looking at him. 'We know only the bare details, remember.' The handkerchief came up again. 'Or, perhaps you may prefer to start in Berlin?'

'He wasn't there,' Jaggard put the boot in again neatly, like a Welsh forward in a loose scrum on his own line. 'More's the pity.'

'Fortunately, rather.' Aston was hiding that thin smile behind his handkerchief. 'But Berlin will have concentrated his mind, I would think.'

It was Leonard Aston who was concentrating his mind right now. With a little help from Colonel Zimin and General Voyshinski, among the others (four others: two down, but two missing — and the important two, by God!)

'Thank you for reminding me, Len.' He had made a balls-up of Capri. And he had underrated Mr Leonard Aston. So he had to get it right now. 'There are four sides to this triangle —

right, Len?'

Leonard Aston thought about his opening gambit. 'Creative geometry, would that be?'

'Us and the Russians.' Was it possible that Mr Aston was being measured for Mr Jaggard's job? 'We both want Lukianov — and Prusakov ... or, failing them, Peter dummy1

Richardson. Because he knows what Lukianov is up to — ' He had to be quick now ' — or, if what he knows is added to what I am supposed to know . . . and what the Russians already know . . . that's the jackpot.'

Charlie Renshaw grunted doubtfully. 'Are you saying the Russians don't know what he's up to, David? Lukianov, I mean — ?'

He could probably shrug to that. 'Zimin said he wanted Peter alive. And I don't think that was just window- dressing, Charlie.'

'Yes.' Aston nodded. 'With Gorbachev down to address the United Nations, and then to visit the Prime Minister . . . they don't want any scandals they can't handle, Mr Renshaw.' The handkerchief came up again. 'Remember Khrushchev and the Schwirkmann affair? If they start killing people, or trying to kill them . . . then she will have to react to that, just as Chancellor Erhard had to — remember?' He sniffed. 'It's a finely-balanced thing, I agree. And ... I don't doubt you know better than I do. But, if there's any sort of scandal, she'll be able to get much better terms on conventional arms, at the very least. And Gorbachev can't afford that yet — can he?'

'It's all bull-shit —' Charlie started to shrug high politics off.

But then pretended to be embarrassed ' — I do beg your pardon, Miss Franklin — again! But ... do go on, David: they want Major Richardson alive . . . because he will know what Lukianov and Co. are — are trading on the open market?'

Then he produced a typically silly-idiot Charlie Renshaw grin dummy1

to muddy the waters. 'Well . . . that's privatization for you: Lukianov plc are the third side — is that what you're saying, David? And they're offering shares to International Terrorism plc — in this case on the Arab splinter-groups?