Just one small item, said Thornton. There are, of course, people other than those in your department who have been involved. You had better make sure that Denison and the Meyrick girl are silenced. Thats all I have to say.
He stalked out, followed by Armstrong. Carey sighed and took out his matches to light his pipe but stared at it in disgust and put it down unlit. Presently he heard a car door slam and the sound of tyres on gravel. When Armstrong came back he said, Hes gone?
Yes.
Then give me a cigarette, for Gods sake!
Armstrong looked surprised but produced a packet of cigarettes. As he held a match for Carey, he said, You were a bit rough on Thornton, werent you?
Carey puffed inexpertly, and coughed. Its the only way to handle a bastard like that. Hes the biggest con man in Whitehall, but if you hit him over the head hard enough he gets the message.
Im surprised he took it from you. Arent you afraid hell jerk the rug from under you? I thought he was a big boy in the corridors of power.
Corridors of power! Carey looked as though he was about to spit. I wonder if C. P. Snow knew he was coining the cliché of the twentieth century. Im not afraid of Thornton; he cant get at me directly. Anyway, Im coming up to retirement and Ill spit in his eye any time I feel like it.
He drew on the cigarette and expelled smoke without inhaling. Its nothing to do with you, Ian. You just soldier on and dont worry your head about policy.
I dont even know what its all about, said Armstrong with a smile.
Youre better off that way. Carey stood up and stared out of the window. Did you notice anything odd about that conversation?
Armstrong thought back. I cant say that I did.
I did. Thornton got so mad at me that he slipped. Carey drew on the cigarette and blew a plume of smoke. How did he know about Denison? You tell me that, my son, and youll win a big cigar. He held out the cigarette and looked at it distastefully, then stubbed it out in an ashtray with unnecessary violence. He said curtly, Let me know when Denison and McCready arrive.
Thirty-Eight
Denison lay in the old-fashioned bath with steaming water up to his ears. He lay passively letting the hot water untie all the knots. His shoulders still ached abominably because of the paddling in the marsh of Sompio. He opened his eyes and stared at the elaborately moulded ceiling and then looked at the ceramic stove in the corner, a massive contraption big enough to heat a ballroom let alone a bathroom. He deduced from that that winters in Finland could be chilly.
When the water turned tepid he got out of the bath, dried himself and put on his or Meyricks bath robe. He looked down at it and fingered the fabric. From what Carey had said in the few brief remarks he had offered his days of high living were over. That suited Denison. In the past few days there had been less chance of high living than of low dying.
He left the bathroom and walked along the panelled corridor towards the bedroom he had been given. It seemed that British Intelligence were not averse to a spot of high life; this country house reminded him of those oldfashioned detective plays in which the earl was found dead in the study and, in the last act, it was the butler what done it. Playwrights in those days seemed to think that everybody but butlers had butlers.
He was about to go into his room when the door opposite opened and he saw Lyn. Giles, do you have a moment?
Of course. She held the door open in invitation and he went into her bedroom. How is Harding?
Hes quite a man, she said. He took out the bullet and set the arm himself. He said it wasnt as bad as taking out his own appendix, as some doctors have had to do. Diana and I helped to bandage him.
I dont think hell encounter any more bullets, said Denison. From what I gathered from Carey this job is just about over. He said something about us flying back to England tomorrow.
So it was successful he got what he wanted?
Apparently so. There was a scientist here who checked the stuff. Diana and Ian Armstrong went back with him to England.
She sat on the bed. So its all over. What will you do now?
Go back into films, I suppose. He rubbed his jaw and felt the unshaven stubble. Carey said he wanted to talk to me about that because it might not be too easy, not with someone elses face. He waved his arm largely. All this Scandinavian stuff is supposed to be kept secret, so I cant very well go back to Fortescue as I am. Hed ask too many questions which I cant answer. The trouble is that the film world is small and if it isnt Fortescue asking awkward questions it will be someone else.
So whats the answer?
A man called Iredale, I suppose, he said morosely. Hes a plastic surgeon. I cant say I fancy the idea; Ive always had a horror of hospitals.
Do it, Giles, she said. Please do it. I cant...
He waited for her to go on but she was silent, her head averted. He sat next to her and took her hand. Im sorry, Lyn. Id have given anything for this not to have happened. I didnt like the deception I played on you, and I told Carey so. I was about to insist that it be put to an end when you... you found out. I wish to hell we could have met under different circumstances.
She still said nothing and he bit his lip. What will you do?
You know what Ill do. Ive got a not very good degree so Ill teach as I told my father. Her voice was bitter.
When will you start?
I dont know. Theres a lot to be straightened out about Daddys death. Carey said hell pull strings and make it easy from the legal angle, but therell still be a lot to do his will and things like that. Theres a lot of money involved shares in his companies and theres his house. He once told me that the house would be mine if he died. That was just like him, you know he said if instead of when.
Arrogant bastard, thought Denison. He said, So you wont start teaching for a long time.
Those different circumstances, said Lyn. Perhaps they could be arranged.
Would you like that?
Oh, yes; to start again.
To start again, mused Denison. I suppose its a wish we all have from time to time. Usually its impossible.
Oh, yes; to start again.
To start again, mused Denison. I suppose its a wish we all have from time to time. Usually its impossible.
Not for us, she said. After youve had the operation youll be convalescent for a while. Come to the house and stay with me for that time. Her hand tightened on his. If I could see Giles Denisons face in my fathers house perhaps we could start again.
A sort of exorcism. It might work.
We can try. She brought her hand up to his face and touched the scar on his cheek. Who did this to you, Giles? And who kidnapped my father to let him drown in the sea?
I dont know, said Denison. And I dont think Carey knows, either.
In the room directly below McCready was giving his report to Carey. He had nearly finished. It was a right shambles, he said. The Czechs were shooting up everything in sight. He stopped and considered. Except us.
Who were the opposition?
I dont know. They were armed with pistols, nothing bigger. We only saw them once in the marsh when Denison tickled them up with that overgrown shotgun. Remarkable man, Denison.
I agree, said Carey.
He keeps his cool in an emergency and hes a good tactician. It was his idea that we cross the marsh. It was a good idea because we didnt run into the Czechs at all. When the punt sank he led us out. McCready grinned. He had us all lined up on a thirty-foot length of string. And his estimation of speed was accurate; we hit the main road just seven hours after leaving the hut.
Did you have any trouble in Vuotso?
McCready shook his head. We nipped in quietly, got into the cars, and drove out. Not far from Rovaniemi we changed into decent clothing to make ourselves presentable for the flight south. He grinned. Theres a Dr Mannermaa in Vuotso a bird watcher. Hes going to be a bit peeved about losing his punt and his gun.
Ill straighten that out, said Carey. You said the Czechs were also at Kevo.
Czechs, Americans and a crowd of Germans hovering on the outskirts. I didnt tell the others about them because they never really came into the game.
East Germans or West Germans? asked Carey sharply.
I dont know, said McCready. They all speak the same lingo.
And then there was the chap who knocked Denison on the head and took the original map.
I never spotted him from start to finish, said McCready. I think he was a singleton working on his own.
Four groups, said Carey thoughtfully. And we cant identify any Russians for certain.
Five, said McCready. Theres the gang that substituted Denison for Meyrick. They wouldnt have come chasing after us to Kevo and Sompio. They knew better.
Carey grunted. I have my own ideas about who did the dirty on Denison and Meyrick and I dont think the Russians came into it.
You said Thornton was here. What did he want?
I didnt find out, said Carey. I wouldnt let him speak to me except in front of a witness and he turned chicken. Hes too fly to be caught that way. But he knew about Sir Charles Hastings, and he knew about Denison.
Did he, by God? Well have to seal that leak when we get back to London. What did Hastings say?
Oh, weve got the goods all right. Hes taken photocopies back to London. Now we can prepare for the next stage of the operation. I hope nothing happens tonight because Id like to get Denison and the girl out of it. Theyre leaving tomorrow on the ten oclock flight from Helsinki.
Where are the original papers now?
In the safe in the library.
In that antique? I could open it with my grandmothers hat-pin.
Carey smiled blandly. Does it matter under the circumstances?
No, I dont suppose it does, said McCready.
Thirty-Nine
Denison went to bed early that night because he had a lot of sleep to catch up on and because he had to get up fairly early to catch the flight to London. He said good night to Lyn and then went into his bedroom where he undressed slowly. Before getting into bed he drew the curtains to darken the room. Even though he was now below the Arctic Circle there was still enough light in the sky to make falling asleep annoyingly difficult. It would get darker towards midnight but never more than a deep twilight.
He woke up because someone was prodding him, and came swimming up to the surface out of a deep sleep. Giles; wake up!