'… He could be better, he could be worse.'
' H e wants to come, Dr Tariq… Wants to, surely that is important?'
' H e is not a senior man, but then senior men are buried with administration… You have done me well, Colonel.'
'It is the privilege of all of us to serve the Revolutionary Command Council.'
' T h e putting together of a team is a delicate affair. This man is not, in himself, important. But to the overall performance of the team he is quite vital.'
His fingers, in the darkness, were clumsy on the dials of the receiver. He could almost hear the slow turning of the spools.
' M y people say he is very impressive, a good man… '
He had the left side of his headset clamped on the ear, he had the right side behind the ear. With his left ear he heard the talk, as best he could. With his right he listened for any footstep in the corridor. Each slow minute was the worst, each last minute was torture. With his handkerchief he mopped at the sweat gathering on his forehead. They wanted more, and he had as yet so little. He heard the jangle of a telephone in his left ear. Then only the drum..I an air conditioner. Then in his left ear the Colonel's report, ''He's coming. It isconfirmed, Dr Bissett is coming tomorrow night. We will hold a plane-, if necessary; he will be on the flight from London tomorrow night,''
' Y o u are to be congratulated, Colonel.'
'There has heen an unexpected difficulty with Bissett; s security, Dr Tariiq Thai is why he must leave at once '
' Y o u would not lose him, Colonel?'
' T h e hands on him, Dr Tariq, they are excellent hands The Swede gulped at the air. So worn down by the late evening vigil. He gulped at the air, and his sigh sang his relief. He had what they wanted of him. Feverishly he dismantled the rifle microphone, and the receiver, and the aerial. He reached between the slats of the blind and drew his window slowly shut.
Fifteen minutes alter the Colonel had reported to the Director of the Atomic Energy Commission that Frederick Bissett would travel from London to Baghdad the following evening, the Swede walked from his workplace to his small bungalow. The tall, shambling, blond-haired figure was familiar to all the guards who patrolled the area between the offices and laboratories and the accommodation area. He was not challenged and he was not searched.
'This is just dumb, James.'
'Wouldn't have thought a hero from the Bureau would have noticed a drop of rain, a little breeze… '
'Notice? I can't even notice the face of my wristwatch.'
'It's eight minutes to two o'clock.'
'That's all you know. I reckon your watch got drowned an hour ago. It feels more like time to go back to bed to m e. '
The wind crowed in the treetops and the rain fell steadily. For a long time neither spoke, nor moved. Only watched. Once, twice, the bedroom lights came on. And the second time Rutherford watched the old man go down the staircase and the kitchen light went on and when he went back upstairs the kitchen light stayed on.
Erlich suddenly said, 'I rang my girl this afternoon. She's with C.B.S. in Rome. Sorry, but you're paying for the call…'
' I f we do all that's expected of us, young Buffalo, I don't suppose they'll kick up much of a fuss.'
'She wanted me to go to Ruane, tell him that I needed a vacation, get myself down to Mombasa. I mean, that is just idiotic. Wasn't even friendly when I said I was tied up here. Do you know what I'll do when this business is over? I'll go into the mountains. My Mom is up in the mountains. Got a hardware store and a diner with my stepfather. Do a bit of walking, bit of shooting, never read a paper, put the television in the garbage.'
'They all say that. It's impossible… Heh.'
'We haven't gone on vacation together in months…'
'Heh, Bill.'
'Never her fault when she can't synchronise with me, always my fault when I'm working and she's free. That's women… '
'Bill, shut up…'
Erlich stared out into the night. The rain was on his nose and in his eyes. And the kids going all the way down to Naples and having the game scratched because it rained. Can't have been rain like this. He saw the car headlights coming slowly, then almost to a stop. He saw the lights swing and they caught at the big trees. Erlich rose to the crouch on his knees.
'Got me, Bill?'
'Got you.'
'We struck lucky, Bill?'
'Right.'
Erlich drew the Smith and Wesson,. 38 calibre, from his waist holster. He checked it, he could do that by feel in the darkness.
A clean bill for the Smith and Wesson.
' Y o u okay, Bill?'
'Never been better.'
They left the tree line. They came out into the force of the wind and the teeth of the rain. They started walking. Down the long field sloping to the Manor House. Lights coming on downstairs in the big building. They walked to the first hedgerow.
They trotted to the second briar and thorn line.
' Y o u got him, Bill.'
'Damn right.'
Both of them running, both sprinting through the mud to the Manor House ahead, to the target man.
15
'You'll deal with the dog?'
'I'll do the dog,' Rutherford said.
They were at the wall of the vegetable garden. Rutherford showed his watch; on the luminous dials it was 25 past two. He didn't know why Rutherford had to show him the time of night.
He clipped the revolver back into its holster. Rutherford made a stirrup with his hands and Erlich slid a boot into them. Rutherford heaved, levered Erlich up. It was an old wall, and the mortar came away as Erlich steadied himself on the top. He reached down, took Rutherford's hand and dragged him up. They were both on top of the wall and bent low.
' Y o u ready, Bill?'
' A s I'll ever b e. '
He turned and took Rutherford's outstretched hand and lowered himself down a carpet of ivy to the ground. Rutherford was beside him, crouching, in a second. He unholstered his revolver and Rutherford motioned him to follow. Rutherford was a pace ahead of him when they reached the kitchen door. He was flattened against the wall beside the door with the Smith and Wesson up close to his ear.
His hand was tight on the revolver handle. His breath came in great controlled surges. His heart was going like a hammer and he thought that if the wind hadn't roared through the trees around the house the dog would surely have been alerted by now. Rutherford's hand was on the door handle.
' L o c k e d? '
'We'll try the front… '
'Where he came in.'
Again Rutherford was in front. First they withdrew 20 yards into the kitchen garden and then looped along the back of the house, past old flower pots, past an overturned wheelbarrow.
