by the wipers. Only when, the door opened did I see the driver. It was Ferdy Foxwell wearing his famous impresario's overcoat, its astrakhan collar buttoned up over his ears, and a crazy little fur hat tilted askew on his head.
I went out to see him. 'Ferdy! Are we off?'
'Tomorrow. Schlegel is on his way. I thought with this I'd be here ahead of him. Give us a chance to chat.'
'Nice car, Ferdy,' I said.
'I treated myself for Christmas,' he said. 'You disapprove?'
The car cost more than my father earned from the railway for ten years' conscientious service, but Ferdy buying a small Ford wasn't going to help my father. 'Spend, Ferdy, spend. Be the first kid on the block with an executive jet.'
He smiled shyly, but I meant it. I'd been around long enough to find out that it wasn't the proprietor's of three-star restaurants, designers of custom jewellery or the manufacturers of hand-made sports cars who were sitting in the sun in Bermuda. It was the shrewdies who did tinned beans, frozen fish and fizzy drinks.
Ferdy sniffed at MacGregor's stew. 'What the devil are you boiling up there, MacGregor, you hairy Scotch bastard?'
'It's your chance to taste Highland haggis, fatty,' said MacGregor.
'One of these days you'll say that, and it really will be a haggis,' said Ferdy.
'Never,' said MacGregor, 'can't stand the filthy muck. I would no' have the stench of it in my house.'
'You can put a gill of your home-made ginger wine into a double measure of your malt,' said Ferdy.
I said, 'Make it two of them.'
'Finest ginger wine I ever tasted,' said Ferdy. He grinned at me. MacGregor deplored the idea of mixing anything with his precious malts but he was vulnerable to compliments about his ginger wine. Reluctantly he took his time before he poured the measures into the glasses, hoping the while that we'd change our minds.
'The Colonel is coming?'
'The new Colonel is coming, MacGregor, my friend.' It was declared now, that we all had the same employer, and yet even during my two days with him he'd not admitted it.
The wind was backing. No longer was smoke coming down into the back yard but the radio aerial gave a gentle moan. It was an uncommonly tall radio aerial, if intended only to bring in the B.B.C. programmes.
'I must have the power-saw ready for morning,' said MacGregor diplomatically, for he guessed that the contents of Ferdy's document case were only for me to see,
Ferdy had the schoolboy intensity that I never ceased to admire. He'd brought all the right documents and codes and radio procedure charts marked up for the dates of the changes. No matter how much he complained, no matter, in fact, how anyone treated him, Ferdy saw himself as Mr Reliable, and he worked hard to keep his own esteem.
He hurried through the papers. 'I suppose Schlegel poked you away up here because he didn't want us talking together.' He said it casually, while giving the edges of the pages too much attention. It was a girl's response, if I can say that about Ferdy without giving you a completely wrong idea about him.
'No,' I said.
'He hates me,' said Ferdy.
'You keep saying that.'
'I keep saying it because it's true.'
'Well, that's a good enough reason,' I admitted.
'I mean, you know it's true, don't you.' Again it was an adolescent's wish to be contradicted.
'Hell, Ferdy, I don't know.'
'And don't care.'
'And don't care, Ferdy. Right.'
'I've been against the Americans taking over the Centre, right from the start.' He paused. I said nothing. Ferdy said, 'You haven't, I know.'
'I'm not sure the Centre would still be functioning if the Americans hadn't pumped life into it.'
'But is it recognizable? When was the last time we did a historical analysis?'
'You know when, Ferdy. You and I did the P.Q.17 convoy in September. Before that, we did those Battle of Britain variable fuel load games. You wrote them up for the journal. I thought you were pleased with what we did?'
'Yes, those,' said Ferdy, unable to conceal the irritation which my answers gave him. 'I mean a historical game played right through the month — computer time and all — with full staff. Not just you and me doing all the donkey work. Not just the two of us scribbling notes, as if it was some new boxed game from Avalon Hill.'
'Who pays the piper…'
'Well I don't like the tune. That's why I first started telling Toliver what was happening.'
'What?'
'Only after they started the surveillance submarines.'
'You mean…' I paused as I thought about it. 'You mean you were reporting all that classified material back to Toliver?'
'He's one of the senior people in intelligence.'
'For God's sake, Ferdy, even if he was, what's that got to do with it?'
Ferdy bit his lower lip. 'I had to make sure
'They knew, Ferdy. We are a combined services outfit. They knew. What good could it possibly do, telling Toliver?'
'You think I did wrong?'
'You can't be that stupid, Ferdy.'
'Let Schlegel down?' Ferdy said angrily. He shook an errant curl off his forehead. 'Is that what I did?'
'How could they…' I stopped.
'Yes,' said Ferdy. 'I'm waiting.'
'Well, what makes you so sure that Toliver is not working for the Russians? Or the Americans, come to that. How do you know?'
Ferdy went ashen. He ran his splayed fingers through his hair a couple of times. 'You don't believe that,' he said.
'I'm asking you,' I said.
'You've never liked Tolliver. I know you haven't.'
'Is that why he deserved the analysis every month?'
Ferdy huffed and puffed, fidgeting with the curtain to get more light in the room, and picking up my Agatha Christie and reading a line or two. 'You reading this?' he asked. I nodded. He put it back on the mantelshelf, behind the broken jug in which MacGregor kept the unpaid bills. 'I wish I'd spoken with you about this before, Patrick,' said Ferdy. 'I nearly did. Lots of times I nearly told you.' The blue jug was safely positioned on the mantelpiece but Ferdy pushed it close against the mirror, as though it might leap into the fireplace and smash into a thousand fragments just to spite and embarrass him. He smiled at me. 'You know about this sort of thing, Patrick. I've never been awfully good at the public relations side of it.'
'Thanks a lot, Ferdy,' I said, without working hard at making my appreciation shine through.
'No offence.'
'And none taken, but if you think that is public relations…'
'I didn't mean public relations exactly.'
'Oh, good.'
'You think old Mac would let us have some tea?'
'Now don't change the subject. Schlegel will be here in a moment.'
'Oh, he'll be chasing as fast as he can go. He won't relish the idea of us working against him.'
'Then that makes two of us.'
'Don't be odious, Pat. I can help you. I mean, these people are trying to get at both of us, you know.'
'What do you mean?'
'Am I right in saying that you've seen this fellow before, for instance?' He unclipped the lining of his document
