you shared in decrying the things that upset them, you created a fellow feeling that allowed for things that should be left unsaid to slip out.
Peter Lanchester knew that, just as he knew that if the man he was talking to had made connections with the right-wing zealots in France, like the Jeunesses Patriotes, the last thing he would do was be open about such an association.
‘Just the same, Quex felt it best you are made aware of what I did and when.’
‘Of things like that little dust-up in La Rochelle.’
It was hard not to tense at that; Peter had not expected any mention of it. ‘You know about that?’
‘One of the fellows you took there from the Paris embassy is an old friend of mine.’
You have been putting it about in asking questions, Peter thought, but why do so in Paris unless…? And when was the question posed, because there had been some delay in lining up that pair and the actual departure?
‘I take it,’ McKevitt continued, ‘given you went to Brno to check out the illegal purchase of guns, there’s some connection in the fact that you ended up there?’
Now he was being sarcastic, but there was no point in denying it, nor was his knowledge indicative of anything. The gun battle would have come to the attention of the French press, or perhaps that friend in Paris had put two and two together — indeed they might have still been there and not, as he had instructed them, heading back to Paris.
‘I am assuming you were trailing the consignment, you being there I mean?’
Peter made the response as laconic as he could. ‘All I know is there was a hell of a flap a few miles outside the port at the time I was expecting the guns to show up.’
It would have been quite unnerving to be the object of McKevitt’s stare if one was not experienced; fortunately Peter was enough that to sit back in his chair and look relaxed.
‘According to what I could glean from the local gossip there was a confrontation in which a light machine gun was employed and a couple of young blades wounded. Given the employment of such a weapon, as well as the mention of foreigners being involved, it’s a fair bet that was part of the consignment I was looking for.’
‘And how, Lanchester, did you find all this out?’
‘By poking around a bit when I heard about it, the place was awash with rumour and gossip. Hospital first, then I found a local bobby who liked his beer too much and had been out at the scene.’
‘And he told you what?’
‘Apparently there was a burnt-out lorry blocking the road but no sign that it had any kind of load on board, so if it was those machine guns they must have been spirited away somehow.’
It was equally unnerving, this lack of any sign of a reaction; Peter Lanchester rated himself as no slouch in the game of which they were both a part and he had to believe that McKevitt was well aware of his true reason for calling.
It was nothing to do with concocting a tale to inform him of what happened, more a coded warning to stop poking around asking questions, the reasons being straightforward: to tell McKevitt to have a care how he behaved in future, if indeed — and there was no proof — he had behaved improperly in the recent past.
‘Sure, you must be a fast worker to unearth all that.’
‘Keen to impress, shall we say, being fresh back in the fold. Anyway, I lost all trace of the cargo and we have no idea where it went, if indeed the dust-up outside La Rochelle was to do with that. It was not something I was able to establish.’
‘You did enquire at the local gendarmerie?’
‘Good God no! Quite apart from the struggle I would have had to find a reason, I would have risked my cover.’
‘Well I made some enquiries through Paris and I can tell you it was a damn sight more than a dust-up.’ McKevitt pushed his chair back and folded his arms. ‘Did you know there was a British cargo ship sitting in the harbour?’
‘I assume there were several.’
‘But not one in particular, say one chartered in Dublin by a character called Moncrief?’
‘No.’
‘Not that our Dublin lads think that’s his real name. It sailed that very night.’
‘But,’ Peter said, leaning forward and looking like a man who had succeeded in something, ‘was it loaded?’
‘I have no idea and neither, it seems, do you. It’s quite possible it was and the weapons got to their intended destination, which, I am going to speculate, you don’t have a clue about either?’
‘My assumption is that whatever was planned would have had to be aborted.’
‘But you don’t know for certain?’ That brought forth a slow shake of the head, which in turn engendered a sharp response. ‘Which means, Lanchester, it appears to me as if you made a right Horlicks of your first mission back, because you should know.’
‘Perhaps,’ Peter replied, forcing himself to look and sound the same, even if, inwardly, he was seething. ‘But we will keep our eyes and ears open in case it resurfaces. How goes things in your bailiwick?’
‘Now, why would I tell you? Everything that comes across my desk goes upstairs, Lanchester. Maybe, since you are one of Quex’s new blue-eyed boys, you should ask him to let you see what I send him.’
It was interesting: most people being deliberately rude could not avoid accompanying it with a matching irate expression — McKevitt could.
‘Look, old chap,’ Peter said, glad to see that form of address produced a flicker in the McKevitt eye — it was an expression he obviously disliked. ‘We know you are not waving flags at what Quex had decided to set up.’
‘No, I’m not, and neither are the others who have put in years of uninterrupted service. Morale is at rock bottom.’
‘But we are all on the same side,’ Peter said, standing up, ‘all trying to get to the right result, are we not? If I find out anything of use to you, I will happily pass it on and I hope — indeed, I am certain — you will do the same in reverse.’
‘If you will forgive me, Lanchester,’ McKevitt said, dropping his eyes to his desk, ‘I have a rate of work to get through.’
‘My old school head was less brusque than that bastard and that, sir, is saying something.’
Admiral Sir Hugh Sinclair, the aforementioned Quex, allowed himself a very slight twitch of the lips, not a smile but an acknowledgement that what was being said was true. ‘He’s an acquired taste all right, but it takes all sorts to do our kind of work, does it not?’
‘And he’s been asking far too many questions about me, sir.’
‘Happens when one’s nose is put out of joint, and his was very much so when he found out he was being bypassed.’
‘How did he find out?’
‘You turning up in Brno would not have gone unnoticed, Peter.’
That seemed to be too sanguine a response; better to seek to dig the man out. ‘For my money he has pursued it beyond what is natural. I have it in mind, sir, to slip McKevitt some false information, to see if I can get him to break cover and expose himself.’
‘Whatever you think of him, he is on our side.’
‘I think he knows precisely what happened in La Rochelle and who was involved and he is not one just to sit on his hands. He’s talked to both the Paris and Dublin embassies and, for all we know, asked them to dig further. It might be best to put him off any scent he picks up regarding Callum Jardine and those like him.’
‘And how would he do that, Peter?’
You do not say outright to the head of an intelligence agency that his organisation is riddled with factions, that it is a hotbed of rumour and suspicion made worse by your recent actions, even if you know he is aware of the fact and spends much of his working life using that tension to good effect; Peter Lanchester had to be tactful but he also had to say his piece, for if McKevitt was devious, so was the man he was talking to.
‘Just as a precaution, given my sole concern is to protect our man in place, who is, after all, not officially a member of MI6 and is therefore very vulnerable, even to the machinations of his fellow countrymen. Contact with Prague goes through McKevitt, which allows him to issue instructions that we would know nothing about, while
