‘Yes, Mr Holmes?’
The men at the table were staring at him critically, looking him up and down. It was like being interviewed by a hostile board. For the first few moments Holmes was struggling against his nerves, as if he had been a small boy before the headmaster or a candidate at an interview, desperately searching for the right words, struggling to make the right impression. There was a momentary panic. He made a desperate effort to relax, to be calm, to allow his mind to be at ease, flexible, able to work at the high speed which he so desperately needed. He began by using a formula.
‘Your Excellency is most kind to receive me in this unorthodox way. It seemed that in certain circumstances which have arisen it might be to the mutual advantage of our two countries if an entirely unofficial approach could be made which would, shall we say, be outside those normally recorded in the way of diplomatic exchanges.’
There was no reaction. They were waiting to see what he had to say. He was merely playing for time.
‘In these exceptional circumstances,’ said Holmes, ‘no member of my government nor of my department knows of my approach, which I am instructed must remain entirely unofficial. I am here, in fact, to sound your Excellency’s opinion. I trust that the conditions under which I have been instructed to approach your Excellency are understood.’
‘We make no agreement,’ said the ambassador, ‘about any conditions.’
‘Naturally. I am merely stating my instructions about the conditions under which I have been asked to sound your Excellency’s opinion.’
‘That is understood.’
‘Thank you. In other words, so far as my government is concerned, this meeting, in accordance with convention, has not taken place.’
The ambassador’s lip protruded slightly, the mouth twisted. ‘We must wait until we know what you want, Mr Holmes, before we can concur with any condition.’
‘Such a condition,’ said Holmes, ‘will be entirely in the interests of your country, whose relations with my own are now more favourable than they have been for many years. I am sure that your Excellency shares the view of all of us that such good relations should continue.’
‘Naturally, Mr Holmes.’
‘Thank you, your Excellency. It is for this reason that the normal diplomatic channels have not been used for this particular enquiry which is one of — a certain delicacy.’
‘Diplomatic channels are invariably used for very delicate matters, Mr Holmes.’
‘Indeed they are, your Excellency, but in this particular case it was felt that the Foreign Office might perhaps be too influenced by the fact that your second secretary, Nina Lydoevna, had already been declared by them to be persona non grata and asked to leave the country.’
‘That was very regrettable and entirely unjustified.’
‘It was most regrettable, your Excellency.’
‘You admit that!’
It was a breathtaking opening, as he had intended it should be, for a British official to say his government had made a mistake. The ambassador’s face was like a mask. The room was intensely quiet. There was a sense of tension. The men at the table were frozen in their attitudes. The smoke from Tirov’s cigar, spiralling upwards, became a violent disturbance of stillness.
‘I’m glad your Excellency appreciates the delicacy of the matter,’ said Holmes. His tongue was very dry. The dryness spread to his lips. His voice sounded remote, as though he was listening to someone else speaking a long distance away. ‘I have been instructed,’ he said, ‘to ask whether, in view of certain events this afternoon, it might not be to the mutual benefit of your country and of mine to have an exchange of information at an unofficial level concerning the matters which Miss Lydoevna was investigating.’
He had put it as bluntly as he dared. It was an offer to bargain. Behind it was a threat.
‘What events this afternoon do you refer to?" said the ambassador.
Holmes looked at Tirov. ‘I know of no events this afternoon,’ Tirov said to the ambassador. ‘I do not know what Mr Holmes is talking about.’
‘I have put my suggestion,’ murmured Holmes; and waited. They were fencing now, both sides probing to find an opening, to discover what they knew; and a word too little or too much could be disastrous to the effect he wanted to create.
‘You suggest an exchange of information?" said the ambassador.
It was significant. Holmes could sense it was; without at that moment being able to pinpoint the reason for it except that in a subtle way the ambassador had changed his approach, had come to some abrupt corner and was sliding round. ‘At an unofficial level,’ Holmes reminded him.
‘To discuss — what?’ said the ambassador.
‘I suggested the talks would be concerned with the matters Miss Lydoevna was investigating.’
Holmes spoke automatically. He knew now what the significant thing was: the ambassador had not mentioned Nina Lydoevna’s expulsion. It should have been of enormous importance for the Russians to probe what the British were now privately admitting was a mistake. It was a magnificent bargaining factor Holmes had given them and yet the Russians were not using it. They must have a good reason.
‘What was Miss Lydoevna investigating?" asked the ambassador. Holmes gave the appearance of being rather tired at these exchanges, as though he thought the Russians were merely playing for time. His reply was brisk and brief. ‘Africa.’
‘Africa is a large subject, Mr Holmes.’
‘And a large prize, Excellency.’
This was sparring, neat enough, but getting nowhere, moving away from the effect he wanted. He decided to risk a different approach.
‘My government is concerned there should be stability in Africa,’ murmured Holmes. ‘Stability, your Excellency. Stability.’ The low voice, the gesture, the attitude, was precisely right. It was pure Foreign Office. It was also a little dangerous. The ambassador was staring at Holmes like a heavily armoured owl. Tirov had relaxed. Holmes wondered if he had overplayed. He felt himself becoming reckless. He stifled down the feeling with all the effort he could command.
‘What we are concerned with, Excellency,’ he continued, more solemnly, ‘is to prevent disorder and civil war. But my government has also a wider interest, Excellency, which we believe is yours. My government believes that it is in the mutual interest of both the United Kingdom and of the Soviet Union that whatever policy is followed by the new states in Africa it should not be the policy of a third power which is hostile to both the United Kingdom and Soviet Russia. We do not want interference in Africa by China.’
‘All this is known,’ murmured the ambassador. He pulled down the ridges of his waistcoat. ‘The policy of the Soviet Union — ’
‘Africa is a large prize,’ murmured Holmes. He had spoken a little louder, so as to interrupt the ambassador, but not loud enough for it to appear too obvious. ‘If — ’ he continued, looking from the ambassador to Tirov — ‘one could exclude China — ?’ He left the sentence unfinished on an upward inflexion that sounded infinitely attractive.
‘What makes you think,’ said Tirov, ‘that your information would be of value to us?’ It was brutally to the point.
‘My government is prepared to take the risk,’ said Holmes pleasantly. ‘Some of our information on Africa will be known, no doubt, to the Soviet Government and equally some of the Soviet Government’s information will be known to us.’
It was nicely and easily turned, but Tirov was not the kind of man to be satisfied by a phrase. Holmes had an uneasy feeling: Tirov could see through him. If Tirov could have probed he would have had him. But Tirov left it too late. The ambassador spoke first.
‘Let us be quite clear,’ said the ambassador. ‘You think that an exchange of confidential information with a member of our staff might be of mutual benefit. You are authorized to begin such an exchange?’
‘Entirely unofficially.’
That is understood. There would be no record of such a meeting. If there was anything to recor
d it would perhaps be described as certain channels of information but they would not be named.’
‘Precisely.’
Holmes watched their reactions. The eyes of one of the men at the table flickered at his companion. There was silence.
‘I must consider the request,’ said the ambassador. ‘On the face of it, there is no reason why such an exchange between senior officials should not be beneficial, if our interests coincide.’
‘They do, Excellency.’
‘In particular circumstances, Mr Holmes, our two countries may be able to make use of each other,’ the ambassador said. ‘It is the circumstances of this case I would wish to discuss with my colleagues,’ he looked round at the two men with him. They nodded. The atmosphere began to change. ‘Very well,’ said the ambassador. He seemed relieved. ‘The circumstances of your visit are understood, Mr Holmes. If you do not mind waiting — ?’
Tirov took Holmes’ arm. ‘It is a pity,’ he said, ‘that you did not meet Nina Lydoevna.’ He smiled with his mouth and not his eyes.
‘It is a pity,’ said Holmes.
‘One day perhaps you will.’
‘Who knows?’ said Holmes. ‘Life — ’ he murmured so that only Tirov was able to hear — ‘is full of surprises.’
Tirov was expressionless, his eyes searching Holmes’ face in a curiously deliberate fashion. He put his cigar in his mouth, enveloping the chewed end with the full purse of his lips, drawing the smoke deep.
One of the men at the table rose and pressed a bell on the wall. They waited while another man appeared. The ambassador said, ‘Take Mr Holmes to the waiting-room downstairs.’ The man nodded and stood to one side at the door, allowing Holmes to go through. The door closed. For a long time there was silence in the room. The ambassador straightened his waistcoat and looked at Tirov.
‘He knows something?’
Tirov took the cigar out of his mouth, the wet butt shining darkly under the light. ‘I think he does.’
‘How much?’
Tirov shrugged. ‘One does not know.’
‘Should we agree?’
Tirov hesitated. ‘That depends,’ he said, ‘on what is happening at Uplands. We may not know for some time.’
‘How long?’
Tirov looked at his watch. ‘An hour. She promised to telephone.’
The ambassador nodded. He came to a decision. ‘We will allow him to wait.’
‘In diplomatic circles,’ said Tirov, ‘it is of no importance, eh?’ He put the cigar back in his mouth and smiled at his joke. ‘He’s clever, is this man Holmes,’ he continued, reflectively. ‘He has a brain. He plays it well. He is good. But, it is the brainy ones who dislike waiting most. It preys on their emotions,’ he paused. ‘Very well, let him wait until we hear. I agree. We have nothing to lose. After that, we will see. If they get to Uplands it may not be necessary to do anything about Mr Holmes except to thank him for his trouble and to say we will let him know tomorrow. By then, according to my information, it will be too late.’
Monique Shepherd walked out of the back door of the bungalow and closed it behind her, carefully, without noise. She wore a yellow cotton frock and carried a shopping basket. She walked over the lawn towards the pine woods at the end of the garden. Once or twice she looked over her shoulder. Nothing moved. No one was in sight.
She wore high-heeled shoes. The heels sank into the soft earth round the rubbish tip at the end of the garden. Beyond the rubbish there was the right angle where the fences met. At the corner there was a gap where the chestnut paling met the wire and had been pulled away. She squeezed through the gap and into the woods, walking over a carpet of pine needles. After she had walked for twenty minutes she came to a road and waited, looking at her watch.
A chauffeur-driven car came round the comer, a grey Austin Princess, cruising slowly. It drew up beside her. The rear door opened and Monique got in. Seated in the far corner was Rosa Verschoyle.
‘You were not followed?’ said Rosa.
‘I don’t think so.’
Rosa was critical. ‘Don’t think so? You should be sure.’ She was annoyed. ‘That dress is too conspicuous. The colour is too bright. I told you to wear dark clothes.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You should have carried out instructions. There was a risk someone could have seen you coming through the woods. That colour can be seen for miles. You know the bungalow has been watched. By MI5?’
‘I saw the man. He was at the front. He couldn’t have seen me.’
‘You took an unnecessary risk,’ said Rosa. ‘Wearing that.’
‘It’s so hot.’
‘You disobeyed instructions.’
‘I just put on a thin dress. Have you got my case?’
‘It is already there.’
The car gathered speed.
‘Now listen — ’ said Rosa. ‘I will repeat your instructions again. There must be no mistake and no misunderstandings. The child is safe and happy and is being well looked after. When you have finished you will see him. You will be brought back here and so will he. You understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘You are going to Uplands because both you and your husband were interested in nature cure. You have had a nervous collapse after your husband's death and you are going for a weekend treatment. You must behave entirely as an ordinary patient. If you see me, you are not to recognize me, even though you came with me in the car. It is assumed that we both came in a hired car from the station but we do not know each other.’
‘Yes.’
‘If I need you I shall let you know.’
‘How?’
‘You will see. I may need your help. I may not.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘All that you need to know, Monique, is that if this operation is successfully carried out you will know who killed your husband and that the work he was engaged on when he died will be complete. That is what you wanted. Let that be enough for the time being.’
The car was going in through the main gates of Uplands, up the sun-dappled drive under the dry elms. Rosa Verschoyle leaned forward and spoke to the chauffeur. He slowed a little and lifted the microphone from a short-wave transmitter fitted under the dash.
*
‘They're there,’ said Tirov. He put down the phone. ‘They've arrived. Both of them. She shook off the police, picked up the car, and the car got through.’
‘It's not a trap?' asked the ambassador.
Tirov shrugged. ‘It does not matter. Either way it will succeed. If the British know, so much the better, because they will also take steps to prevent the sabotage. Either we or the British will be successful. But if they don't know and do nothing we will still be successful.’
The ambassador smoothed his waistcoat and wriggled in his seat. ‘It is an odd situation,’ he said. ‘British intervention would be of use to us. We shall denounce it, of course.’
‘So long as they don’t stay in Africa.’
‘Whatever we may say,’ said the ambassador, ‘their imperial ethos is dead. We have made them ashamed of it. The only time they go abroad now without a guilty conscience is as tourists.’ The ambassador chuckled.
‘Very civilized,’ said Tirov. ‘You know,’ he said reflectively, ‘I think he was, at times, almost enjoying himself.’
‘Who — Holmes?’
‘I think so. He is intelligent.’
‘You think he has a sense of humour?’
‘I would imagine so.’ Tirov’s lips crinkled into a smile. He began to chuckle. ‘It is ironic. The head of their security service!’
The ambassador said, ‘The typical arrogance of the British.’
‘Arrogant and humorous,’ said Tirov. He was still chuckling. He pushed the butt of his cigar into an ashtray, grinding it in, so that the wet butt-end stood up like a dropping. The ambassador said: ‘So far as I am concerned I have had no meeting with the gentleman.’
‘He has never been here.’ Tirov seemed t
o relish the joke, chuckling to himself, making his huge frame rumble with internal convulsions and explosions of laughter that seemed to erupt and be dispersed inwardly without ever finding their way to the surface. ‘Life,’ he repeated, ‘is full of surprises.’ His shoulders shook and trembled with his laughter. ‘We will give him a surprise.’
Tirov went outside. He went upstairs. Five minutes later he came down again to the hall and went to the waiting-room. He opened the door. He went in, all smiles.
‘My dear Mr Holmes,’ he said. ‘I must appologize for keeping you waiting. It is unforgivable. Consultations take time.’ He spread his hands. What you call diplomatic channels. They are so interested in the precedents. In what you call doing the right thing. For myself, I am a practical man. I have no patience with the diplomatic mind. Neither I think have you. We are both practical men, Mr Holmes. Allow me to offer you a drink.’
Tirov had opened a cupboard. From it he extracted an unopened bottle of whisky and an unopened bottle of sherry which he held up in either hand.
‘Whisky,’ said Holmes. ‘And soda.’
‘My own preference,’ said Tirov blandly. He dented the foil with his thumbnail and peeled it off, standing the bottle on the table. He turned and put back the sherry bottle into the cupboard and took out two tumblers which he placed by the whisky. Then he lifted the fastening to the bottle cap and poured two doubles. Then Tirov picked up one of the glasses, regarded it critically and frowned. He put it down and looked at the other, holding it to the light. ‘Not very clean,’ he said. ‘I shall ring for some clean glasses. How disgusting. I must apologize.’
‘It does not matter.’
‘They are clean but they have not been polished. Glasses should be polished until they shine.’
‘It looks perfectly clean.’
‘They may have been washed but not polished,’ said Tirov. ‘Wait a moment,’ he picked two fresh glasses from the cupboard and held them to the light. ‘That is better,’ he said. ‘Allow me,’ he turned to the cupboard again and took out another glass. He took an immaculately clean handkerchief from his breast pocket, flicked it open and polished the glass carefully, making it shine. He tipped the whisky into the polished glass and handed it to Holmes. ‘That is much better,’ he put the handkerchief back into his breast pocket and tipped the whisky from the glass he held into another, again holding it to the light with a critical appraisal. ‘This one does not need polishing,’ he raised his glass. ‘Your good health.’ They drank.
The Shepherd File Page 10
