'Who are you?' asked Leonard.
'I told you. Jagger.' The man looked puzzled.
'This is a military establishment. What are you doing here?'
'Are you Leonard?'
'Yes, but-'
'Dear old official channels. All clogged to buggery again. So either you've lost your mind or somebody took their time letting you know I was coming. With luck you'll get the signal about midnight. Here.'
He had effortfully taken from an inside pocket, and now handed to Leonard, a battered card bearing his photograph and the Home Secretary's signature. Between these were a few printed lines saying that the bearer was to be afforded full co-operation by all civilian, military and legal authorities. They did not say who employed Jagger or what his status was, and indeed Leonard never found out.
While he examined the card, he saw that Jagger was taking in the machine-gun crews and the nearby groups of armed men. He grinned, to Leonard's mind offensively, showing a mouthful of strong yellowish teeth.
'Nice little reception committee you've got laid on. Did you think I was coming down to bomb you all? Still, with me not expected you had some call to get the wind up. I took the old chopper on account of the trains are so bloody awful. Now you'll be Colonel White. Pleased to meet you, Colonel. And this is…?'
'Captain Ross-Donaldson, my adjutant.'
'How do you do, Captain. Flaming hot, isn't it? I don't know what we've done to deserve all this good weather. I'll just get my bag out of the chopper, and then perhaps one of you'll be kind enough to show me where I can get a drink. It's thirsty work, you know, flying.'
He turned back to the helicopter. Meanwhile Leonard spoke into his microphone.
'This is Captain Leonard. Stand down, everybody. Stand down. Some of you could have been a little quicker, but not badly done on the whole. Thank you.'
Jagger rejoined them carrying a bulky suitcase in tartan cloth with sheets of transparent plastic on the larger surfaces.
'Now what about that drink?' he said as they moved off. 'And then you can fill me in on what's been happening. AH I know is that Leonard here talked to our mutual friends in high places on the scrambler early this morning and said some genius had been skylarking about with an atomic rifle and what about some assistance. So here I am with the assistance, such as it is.'
'I didn't ask for any assistance,' said Leonard.
'You didn't? I'm sorry. I was clearly given to understand you did. Another little bit of official channeling, no doubt. Anyway, as I see it, there's some sense in you being lent a hand. You've got your regular job to do and that must be pretty taxing on its own, without this atomic carry-on to see to. I'm not here to give anybody orders, by the way. Just assistance, any assistance in my power.'
'Thank you,' said Leonard distantly. 'I'll rejoin you in just a moment.'
The effect of the sherry had not taken long to wear off. Its departure had been assisted, he felt, by Ross-Donaldson's inexplicable rudeness and, far more, the arrival of this Jagger. It was typical of authority to leave one alone at difficult times and then, when one's luck changed at last, send in a total stranger, inadequately briefed, of undefined standing and probably likely to try to steal some of the credit. And without so much as prior notice…
He left the others at the ante-room door and went yet again to the Command Post, where, after replacing the transceiver on its shelf, he was handed the transcript of a wireless message announcing Jaggers' arrival by helicopter at the exact moment when the machine could be heard taking off from the meadow. No further information was given. Leonard wasted a couple of minutes drafting a sarcastic reply, then gave it up, told the corporal to send an acknowledgment and returned to the ante-room as the Colonel was saying,
'And that's all we've got.'
Jagger, sitting in the largest armchair with the reports and photo-graphs on his lap, nodded and sniffed.
'What's known of the mental condition of this fellow Best?' he asked.
Leonard hesitated. 'Nothing for certain,' he said.
'Surmised, then.'
'Well, I think he's unbalanced.'
'In what way?'
'He seems to me to suffer from delusions.'
'What sort of delusions?'
'Well… he thinks I'm mad.'
At this, the Colonel frowned, Venables groaned, Ross-Donaldson started to speak and stopped. Only Jagger showed no reaction.
He said, 'Are you sure?'
'Yes, pretty sure. One of his colleagues said he thought so. That he thought Best thought I was mad, I mean.'
'And what is it about you that makes him think you're mad?'
'Because I think there are spies about.'
