The Memory Trap

'Yes . . . They insisted on helping us — on finding Richardson themselves, and delivering him to us. I rather got the impression that he isn't exactly numero uno in their popularity stakes.'

dummy1

'What — ?' They were in the midst of a deafening maelstrom of tunnel noise-and-traffic on a multi-lane autostrada which hadn't existed in his old Neapolitan days — the days of General Montuori and Captain Richardson. 'Richardson — ?'

'Uh-huh.' Mitchell annexed Audley's own useful multipurpose non-committal grunt for himself. 'The elusive major himself — ' He nodded ' — only, as they apparently haven't found him themselves they're being nicer to us now

— God!'

Audley's knees hit the dashboard painfully as the little car decelerated fiercely. 'What — ?' He could hardly think for the noise.

'Some mad bastard — that mad bastard — ' Mitchell stabbed a finger ahead ' — has just cut in ahead of me.' He looked up at his mirror. 'They're all mad — stark, staring mad, David —

' He frowned ' — or ... I hope they are, anyway —'

Audley massaged his bruises. He couldn't keep shouting

'What?', he had to find a more sensible question. 'If no one knows where Richardson is ... what makes you think he's safe?'

The car burst into sunlight. 'Safe — ?' For a moment he didn't seem to have heard the rest of the question. 'That's why I think he's safe: because no one knows where he is.' He peered into the mirror again. 'I just hope the same applies to us, now that I've lost our escort somehow —'

Audley looked around. What was certain was that he didn't dummy1

know where he was. But this was one bit of Italy where, on a clear day like this, that ought to be easily rectified once a sufficient gap in the buildings on his left opened up.

'Ah! There he is — phew!' Mitchell grinned relief at him.

'Sorry, David. Really, I quite enjoy driving in Italy. It's the nearest thing to stock-car racing I know. But keeping in with our escort rather spoils it, that's all ... But, as I was saying —

what was I saying?'

Audley gave up trying to spot Vesuvius. 'Richardson is safe.

But you don't know where he is.'

'That's right.' Mitchell sounded almost cheerful. 'So he knows where he is.'

Audley could see another nightmare tunnel ahead. 'What d'you mean?'

'I mean that he got in touch with us. The major-domo did his stuff, evidently. So now the Major's calling the shots, David.

And we're going to meet him.'

After Berlin that was an unfortunate choice of words. But the tunnel closed in on them before Audley could react. And this time, with an enormous sixteen-wheeler thundering beside them, no further words were possible, and even thought wasn't easy.

Light returned at last, yet Vesuvius was still hidden behind buildings. Except, by now they must be beyond it, with Amain' still an hour or more ahead. But now he had thought of what he had been going to say. 'You know about Kulik, dummy1

Mitchell.'

'Not a lot.' Mitchell sniffed. 'Does anyone know more than that?' He glanced at Audley quickly. 'Have you pulled the'

rabbit out of the hat again, Dr Audley — Professore — ?'

'No.'

Mitchell flickered another glance at him. 'You're about to remind me that Kulik also called the shots — day, time and place — are you?'

Audley winced at the repetition of 'shots'. But, having talked to both Jack Butler and Elizabeth, Mitchell had it all pat, evidently. And meanwhile the car was beginning to slow down again.

'And it didn't do him a lot of good — is that it?' This time Mitchell didn't bother to look at him. 'Don't worry, David. I haven't forgotten that. It's at the very top of my list that I'm your minder.'

Audley was about to look away in exasperation. But then he caught a glimpse of the sea beyond Mitchell's profile.

The sea at last! 'The sea! The sea!' — the cry of Xenophon's ten thousand fellow-Greeks had been dinned into him so thoroughly at school by old Wimpy long ago that the words always came back to him at every first sight of it, at first almost triumphantly, and then almost sadly as he became conscious of the length of years which now separated him from that first- learning!

'What is it, David?' Mitchell sat bolt-upright. 'What have you dummy1

seen?'

'Just the sea.' The man was a bag of nerves. 'That's all.'