the best entrenching tool since the Romans, David? Isn't there some ancient text about a Legion driving off the barbarians with their spades, when they were attacked while building one of their forts, eh? You're our resident Roman expert — ?'
'And you are our resident Spetsnaz expert, Dr Mitchell?'
Richardson's voice had lost all of its animosity. 'As my successor?' But then he smiled his old easy smile at Mary Franklin. 'Dr Mitchell is absolutely right, Miss Franklin: it was a razor-sharp little spade I found. And it was . . . really, quite distinctive. Because it's a ruler, to measure . . .
whatever needs to be measured — the length of the handle, and the length and breadth of the blade: 32 plus 18 equals 50, by 18 ... centimetres of course. And matt green, overall.'
The smile faded slowly. 'They've got one at Hereford, in their collection — ' He looked around suddenly, first at the ruins, and then at the wooded hillsides above them ' — I'd be delighted to show the Hereford one to you, if you still doubt me — and Dr Mitchell, Miss Franklin — ?' Having made his dummy1
point, he came back to Audley at last. 'So, now that I really am one of your team, Dr Audley . . . shall we go, then?'
Audley felt the first spots of rain in the wind spatter his face, out of the darker clouds which had been drifting like smoke among the topmost trees of the ridges.
'Ah — David . . . Dr Audley — ' Mary Franklin had assimilated everything she hadn't known before, both about Russian military entrenching-tools and about Major Peter Richardson. So now she was as sharp as a Spetsnaz spade turning over in the air before it struck ' — I must report in, to say where we're going.'
And she must do bloody-well more than that, now they had wrapped up fifteen-years-ago, to give Henry Jaggard all he needed for his horse-trading. 'Yes, Miss Franklin.' Apart from which, he badly needed to know what Henry Jaggard himself was doing, after his own advice from last evening, which not even Jaggard could safely have ignored; but which, equally, he couldn't ask for now, in front of Richardson, who wanted blood, not glasnost! 'And perhaps you can also ask Henry to alert Hereford —the SAS — to expect us, while you're about it.'
'And to get them off their arses, too.' Outwardly, Richardson nodded, prudent, one-of-the-team-again commonsense, in agreement. But Audley caught more than that in his enthusiasm. 'We need to seal off this whole area, if Lukianov is back in it. But not crudely, Miss Franklin: we've got to make sure he gets in first. Otherwise he'll back off — do you dummy1
see?'
'Yes.' For the first time Major Richardson got a Mary Franklin smile. 'I do take your point, believe me.' Then Audley received a Mary Franklin frown, which froze him with his mouth slightly open. 'We have a phone cleared here, Dr Audley. So ... if you would stay here — or, maybe get into my car, perhaps?' Mitchell received the rest of the frown. 'And, if you care to go with the Major, Dr Mitchell —
to Hereford? After I have reported in — ?' The frown reversed itself, quite dazzlingly, as the original smile hit Richardson between the eyes again. 'I'm sure Dr Mitchell knows the way, Major. And I will follow you, with Dr Audley.'
She might not know about spades. But she knew what she wanted — and how to get it exactly, with that movement order, which split them neatly, beyond argument.
No trouble, Charlie had said.
But . . . what a waste — that loyalty to Henry Jaggard!
Audley thought. 'Very well, Miss Franklin. Right, Peter —?'
2
'Damn this weather.' Mary Franklin squinted through the rain-blurred windscreen at the rear lights of the Porsche.
'And we shouldn't be doing this, anyway. It isn't necessary.'
'No.' Audley settled back comfortably for the first time in dummy1
days. And she smelt good, too. 'Is that what Henry Jaggard said?' He could imagine what Henry Jaggard had said: Don't let the bastards out of your sight, Miss Franklin.
'Don't worry, Paul will look after the Major. And I know the way, if we lose them. I know all this country quite well, as it happens. From my old days.'
'Yes?' In spite of what he'd said (but because of what the egregious Jaggard had said?), she was determined not to lose the Porsche. But she gave him a quick glance, nevertheless. 'How was that? You've never had anything much to do with the SAS, have you?'
