The Memory Trap

twitched. 'They're all being especially nice to us — the CIA as well as Mossad. All of which is scaring the daylights out of poor old Henry. So, apart from putting Mary here on your tail, he's not yet muttering 'What's that bastard Audley up to?' like he usually does, David. It's just like your favourite poet said it always is —

For it's David this, an' David that, an' 'Chuck 'im out, the brute!'

But it's 'Saviour of 'is country' when the guns begin to shoot

— he knew a thing or two, you're quite right! So whatever you want . . . just say the word, and we're yours to command.

Isn't that right, Mary?'

Mary Franklin's face was a picture. But then, however much she might know about them both, she might not know that one of Dr Mitchell's favourite indoor sports was quoting passages from Dr Audley's beloved Kipling at him, preferably in public.

Only this time there was more to it than that, he realized: if Mary Franklin was Henry Jaggard's woman first and last, Paul Mitchell was his man still — with or without Jack Butler's full approval: the Kipling lines were also the wrapping for that final message.

'Miss Franklin — ' He caught her still in mid-gape at Mitchell dummy1

' — so . . . what are the Russians doing, then?'

'The Russians?' She frowned at him.

'Dr Mitchell says that everyone is — ah — 'buddy-buddy'.'

He pronounced the Americanism with pretended distaste.

'But I don't think he was including the KGB in that happy condition — were you, Dr Mitchell?'

'No.' Mitchell came in happily on cue. 'There's been some interesting coming-and-going in the new trade mission, Len Aston reports. But that's all to do with some Anglo-Soviet wooden furniture factory project, allegedly. Which they're thinking of switching from the north-east to the Welsh valleys. Only they could be bringing in some reinforcements perhaps, he thinks. But no glasnost of the sort you're suggesting — if that's what you're suggesting?'

'Well, it's about bloody-time that there was, by God! Where are you parked?'

'Round the back.' Mitchell frowned. 'Why d'you want to know?'

'I want to borrow your car.'

'My car? Over my dead body! You've already got — ' Mitchell stopped abruptly.

'The new departmental Rover?' He could see that Mitchell understood. But so too, unfortunately, did Mary Franklin, judging by her obstinate expression. 'I don't want to be followed — 'protected' — where I'm going. Either by you, Miss Franklin, or by Mossad.'

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She hadn't expected that. 'Mossad?'

'Colonel Shapiro is upstairs, my dear. I've just been talking to him. And the red-headed fellow at the bar belongs to him.

And they'll be watching my car, even if they haven't added one of their bugs to yours.' This wasn't betraying Jake: it was merely using him to get her off his back, he reassured himself Jesuitically. 'I believe I now know where I can find Peter Richardson — where he is waiting for me. But if I turn up anywhere near his safe-house with anyone on my tail he'll be off again, like on Capri. And I'm not having that.'

'David —'

'I shall be perfectly safe this time. Apart from which I have work for you both.'

They looked at each other.

'What work?' Mitchell sighed.

'What work, Dr Audley?'

'I want you, Paul, to make sure I'm not followed.' There wasn't the slightest likelihood that Jake would try anything so stupid. But it would keep Mitchell occupied. 'And I want you to contact Henry Jaggard, Miss Franklin. Because I've got work for him, too.'

Mary Franklin stared at him even more intently. 'What work, Dr Audley?'

'I want him to set up a meeting with the Russians as soon as possible.' He met the stare arrogantly. 'Because I don't think we've got much time.'

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'Much time . . . before what?'

'Either before Lukianov clinches his deal. Or before the Russians get him themselves, just as they got Prusakov.

Which may be preferable. But which isn't acceptable to me.'

She breathed out slowly. 'Is this because of what Shapiro has told you?'

'Partly. But partly also because, whatever Lukianov is engaged in, I'd guess that the Russians must be close to him by now, the way they've been pulling out all the stops.

Because they've always had the inner track — he was their man before he ran ... as well as a head start after Berlin, even though they were too late with Kulik.'

'But. . . they haven't got Richardson, Dr Audley.'

'That's exactly right, Miss Franklin: Richardson will be our strength. Because he was our man once . . . That is, if you don't frighten him off now.' He nodded at her. 'If I can