all in late middle age. It could have been the annual meeting of the directors of a City bank but for the fact that one of them wore the uniform of a Commander of the Metropolitan Police and another was a red-tabbed colonel from the General Staff. Ogilvie twisted in his chair as I entered and indicated I should take the empty seat next to him. Chairing the meeting was a Cabinet Minister whose politics I didn't agree with and whose personality I had always thought of as vacillating in the extreme. He showed no trace of vacillation that morning, and ran the meeting like a company sergeant-major. He said, 'Mr. Jaggard, we have been discussing the recent Swedish operation in which you were involved, and in view of certain differences of opinion Mr. Ogilvie has suggested that you appear to answer our questions yourself.' I nodded, but the colonel snorted. 'Differences of opinion is putting it mildly.' 'That has nothing to do with Mr. Jaggard, Colonel Morton,' said the Minister.
'Hasn't it?' Morton addressed me directly. 'Are you aware, young man, that you've lost me my best man in Scandinavia? His cover is blown completely.' I concluded that Morton was Henty's boss. The Minister tapped the table with his pen and Morton subsided. 'The questions we shall ask are very simple and we expect clear-cut, unequivocal answers. Is that understood?' 'Yes.' 'Very well. Who killed Ashton?'
'I didn't see who shot him. Henty told me it was Benson.' There was a stir from lower down the table. 'But you don't know that he did, other than that you have been told so.' I turned and looked at Lord Cregar.
'That is correct. But I have, and still have, no reason to disbelieve Henty. He told me immediately after the event.' 'After he had killed Benson?' 'That's right.' Cregar regarded me and smiled thinly. 'Now, from what you know of Benson, and I'm assuming you had the man investigated, can you give me one reason why Benson should kill the man he had so faithfully served for thirty years?' 'I can think of no sound reason,' I said. His lip curled a little contemptuously. 'Can you think of any unsound reasons?' Ogilvie said tartly, 'Mr. Jaggard is not here to answer stupid questions.' The Minister said sharply, 'We shall do better if the questions are kept simple, as I suggested.'
'Very well,' said Cregar. 'Here is a simple question. Why did you order Henty to kill Benson?' 'I didn't,' I said. 'I didn't even know he was armed. The rest of us weren't; those were Mr. Ogilvie's instructions. Henty was in a different department.' Colonel Morton said, 'You mean Henty acted on his own initiative?' 'I do. It all happened within a matter of, say, twenty seconds. At the time Benson was killed I was trying to help Ashton.' Morton leaned forward. 'Now, think carefully, Mr. Jaggard. My men are not in the habit of leaving bodies carelessly strewn about the landscape. What reason did Henty give for shooting Benson?' 'Self-defence. He said Benson was shooting at him, so he shot back.' Colonel Morton leaned back and appeared satisfied, but Cregar said to the company at large, 'This man, Benson, seems to be acting more and more out of character. Here we have an old age pensioner behaving like Billy the Kid. I find it unbelievable.'
Ogilvie dipped his fingers into a waistcoat pocket and put something on the table with a click. 'This is a round of 9 mm parabellum found in Benson's room in Marlow. It would fit the pistol found with Benson's body. And we know that the bullet recovered from Ashton's body came from that pistol. We got that from the Swedes.' 'Precisely,' said Cregar. 'All you know is what the Swedes told you. How much is that really worth?' 'Are you suggesting that Benson did not kill Ashton?' asked Morton. There was a note of sourness in his voice. 'I consider it highly unlikely,' said Cregar. 'I don't employ men who are stupid enough to lie to me,' laid Morton, in a voice that could cut diamonds. 'Henty said he saw Benson kill Ashton, and I believe him.
All the evidence we have heard so far does not contradict that.'
Ogilvie said, 'Unless Lord Cregar is suggesting that my department, Colonel Morton's department and Swedish Army Intelligence are in a conspiracy to put the blame for Ashton's death on Benson and so shield the killer.' His voice was filled with incredulity. The uniformed commander guffawed and Cregar flushed. 'No,' he snapped. 'I'm just trying to get to the bottom of something damned mysterious. Why, for instance, should Benson shoot Ashton?' 'He is not here to be asked,' said the Minister coolly. 'I suggest we stop this chasing of hares and address ourselves to Mr. Jaggard.' The Commander leaned forward and talked to me around Ogilvie. 'I'm Pearson-Special Branch. This Swedish operation isn't my bailiwick but I'm interested for professional reasons. As I take it, Mr. Ogilvie did not want Ashton to become aware that British Intelligence was taking note of him. Do you know why?'
That was a tricky one because I wasn't supposed to know who Ashton really was. I said, 'I suggest you refer that question to Mr.
Ogilvie.' 'Quite so,' said the Minister. 'It involves information to which Mr. Jaggard is not privy.' 'Very well,' said Pearson. 'At the same time he wanted Ashton out of Sweden because the Russians had become attracted, so he put pressure on Ashton by having a man pretend to be Russian and thus 'explode Ashton out of Sweden', as he has put it. What I don't understand is why this kidnapping attempt in Strangnas was necessary. Why did you try it?' I said, 'They took tickets from Stockholm to Goteborg. That was all right with me. I intended to shepherd them along and, if they took ship from Goteborg to find out where they were going. The important thing was to get them out from under the Russians in Sweden. But when they gave us the slip and went to Strangnas it became something more complex than a discreet escort operation. Stronger measures were necessary as sanctioned by Mr. Ogilvie.' 'I see,' said Pearson. 'That was the point I misunderstood.' 'I misunderstood something, too,' said Cregar. 'Are we to assume that your instructions precluded the disclosure of yourself to Ashton?' 'Yes.' 'Yet according to what I've been told you did so.
We have been informed by Mr. Ogilvie this morning that you showed yourself to him deliberately. It was only when he saw you that he turned back. Is that not so?' 'That's correct.' 'So you disobeyed orders.' I said nothing because he hadn't asked a question, and he barked, 'Well, didn't you?' 'Yes.' 'I see. You admit it. Now, with all respect to Colonel Morton's trust in the truthfulness of his staff, I'm not satisfied by the somewhat misty evidence presented here that Benson shot Ashton; but the fact remains that Ashton was shot by someone, and it is highly likely that he was shot because he turned back. In other words, he died because you disobeyed an order not to disclose yourself.' His voice was scathing. 'Why did you disobey the order?' I was seething with rage but managed to keep my voice even.
'The idea was not to kill Ashton but to bring him out alive. At that time he was going into grave danger. There was heavy fire in that part of the forest where he was heading-machineguns and mortars, together with rifle fire. Just what was going on I didn't know. It seemed imperative to stop him and he did stop and started to come back. That be was shot by Benson came as a complete shock.' 'But you don't know he was shot by Benson,' objected Cregar. The Minister tapped with his pen. 'We have al ready been over that ground, Lord Cregar.' 'Very well.' Cregar regarded me and said silkily, 'Wouldn't you say that your conduct of this whole operation, right from the beginning, has been characterized by, shall we say, a lack of expertise?' Ogilvie bristled. 'What Mr. Jaggard has done has been on my direct instruction. You have no right or authority to criticize my staff like this. Address your criticisms to me, sir.' 'Very well, I will,' said Cregar. 'Right at the beginning I objected to your putting Jaggard on this case, and all the…' 'That's not my recollection,' snapped Ogilvie. Cregar overrode him. '… all the events since have proved my point. He let Ashton slip from under his nose at a time when he had free access to Ashton's home. That necessitated the Swedish operation which he has also botched, and botched for good, if I may say so, because Ashton is now dead. As for claiming that all he did was on your direct instructions, you have just heard him admit to disobeying your orders.' 'He used his initiative at a critical time.' 'And with what result? The death of Ashton,' said Cregar devastatingly. 'You have expounded before on the initiative of this man. I wasn't impressed then, and I'm still less impressed now.' 'That will be enough,' said the Minister chillily. 'We will have no more of this.
Are there any more questions for Mr. Jaggard? Questions that are both simple and relevant, please.' No one spoke, so he said, 'Very well, Mr. Jaggard. That will be all.' Ogilvie said in an undertone, 'Wait for me outside.' As I walked to the door Cregar was saying, 'Well, that's the end of the Ashton case-after thirty long years. He was a failure, of course; never did come up to expectations. I suggest we drop it and get on to something more productive. I think…' What Cregar thought was cut off by the door closing behind me. They came out of committee twenty minutes later. Ogilvie stuck his head into the anteroom. 'Let's have lunch,' he proposed. He didn't seem too depressed at what had happened, but he never did show much emotion. As we were walking along Whitehall he said, 'What do you think?' I summoned a hard-fought-for smile. 'I think Cregar doesn't like me.'
'Did you hear what he said as you were leaving?' 'Something about the Ashton case being over, wasn't it?' 'Yes. Ashton is buried and that buries the Ashton case. He's wrong, you know.' 'Why?' 'Because from now on until everything is accounted for and wrapped up you are going to work full time on the Ashton case.' He paused, then said meditatively, 'I wonder what we'll find.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX In view of what had been said at the meeting Ogilvie's decision came as a profound surprise. The worst possibility that had come to mind was that I would be fired; drummed out of the department after my special card had been put through the office shredding machine. The best that occurred to me was a
