The Memory Trap

Half of her couldn't deny that. But the other half was frightened. So she still stared from one to the other of them.

'And you're right.' It was the frightened half he addressed.

'But that's what happened. And that's why I'm here, not . . .

somebody else.' He nodded to the frightened half. 'Because we both remembered. And Peter also gave me 'Richard Dalingridge', just in case I'd forgotten.' Both halves of her were properly frightened now. But he had to be sure of her.

'Because we're not playing silly games now, my dear. We're not playing games at all, now.'

That very nearly substituted gravitas for ancient silliness.

But then a log tumbled on the fire. And the wretched Buster, who had settled into happy oblivion on the hearth, emitted a canine fart so loud that it woke him up, causing him to look round inquiringly.

'Oh, for God's sake, Buster!' Richardson fended the animal off. 'Where the hell did you get him, Sophie?'

'From the animal sanctuary. Here, Buster!' She snapped her fingers and the dog grinned at her. 'He was a stray. Like you, Peter.'

'Indeed? It's like that, is it?' He stared at her for a moment, then settled back in his armchair. 'Okay, Dr Audley! We've played one old game by the old rules —both of us cheating: you wanted to find me all by yourself, to get all the kudos.

And also because you think I can get you out of another of those awkward predicaments in which you specialize, dummy1

maybe?'

That was nasty. And nasty not least because it ignored the element of 'keeping faith' which he had so carefully emphasized. But it did have certain other elements of truth, it had to be admitted.

'You were in a bit of a predicament yourself, Major Richardson.' If some elements had to be admitted, then so had others. But he would also pretend an element of decency, if only to keep Sophie on his side. 'But I don't need to go into that, I think.'

But Richardson shook his head. 'I have no secrets from Sophie.' All the same, he looked at her. 'I had debts of honour to settle — she knows that.' He came back to Audley. 'I used the skills I had. Only then I became greedy. But you wouldn't know what it's like to make a lot of money, David — after you've suddenly discovered that you're poor, when you thought you were rich. Because you've never had to worry about money — never mind the debts!'

Little he knew! But, then, the less he (and the rest of the world) knew, the better. 'So then you had the Mafia on your back?' It occurred to him belatedly that maybe Richardson hadn't been such an innocent smuggler after all, but had simply been a more successful one; that, certainly, would account for that hint of reserve in Captain Cuccaro's attitude, not to mention the Mafia's increased interest. 'So when strangers came looking for you just recently, you were already hard to find?'

dummy1

'Yes.' Richardson was oblivious to Sophie and the unfragrance of her dog equally: this was the hard side of him which Fred had identified, even before it had been tempted by adversity fifteen years ago. ''Strangers' is right, too: my people didn't know who they were, the other day. Except that they weren't local. But ... I thought maybe it was hired talent.

Only, they don't need to hire anyone.'

'And then someone dropped my name?'

'Yes.' The shutters came down. 'And then I didn't quite know what to expect. Except trouble.'

'And the KGB?'

'And the KGB?' The corner of the man's mouth twitched. 'For Christ's sake, David! What the hell have they got to do with me? After all these years — ?'

'You don't know?'

'The hell I don't!' Richardson's whole face surrounded his frown. 'Do you think I haven't been cudgelling my brains every spare minute, these last twenty-four hours?'

Suddenly, there was something not right. And although Audley didn't know what it was, it was like a knife at his back.

'But David says that you do know, Peter.' It was as though Sophie had picked up the same vibration.

'He does, does he?' Richardson started to reply almost savagely, but then also registered the doubt in her voice.

'Then perhaps he'd also be good enough to give me a clue to dummy1

what it is. Well, David?'

'Do the names Kulik, Prusakov and Lukianov mean anything to you?'

Richardson's face went blank again. 'They sound like a firm of Moscow solicitors.' It was almost as though there was a click as the three names went into that incomparable memory-bank for checking. 'Who have they been soliciting, then?'

'The first two were computer specialists, GRU and KGB

respectively —'

' Were — ?' Still blank. 'And . . . Lukianov?'

'General Lukianov. KGB, ex-GRU . . . ex-Red Army —ex-Spetsnaz.'