16
In Langley, Virginia, it was Monday morning and Car-stairs, returning from an early conference Upstairs, was scowling.
"Something wrong?" asked Bishop, looking at him curiously. "Or wronger than usual?"
Carstairs poured himself a cup of coffee before answering. "Not really," he said, "except that my ego's suffered a small blow."
"Oh?"
Carstairs made a face. "You know I've never enjoyed being outmaneuvered by the British . . . Upstairs asked for a review of the Aristotle file this morning, and damned if Liaison didn't report that British Intelligence has a man on Aristotle's trail too."
Bishop began to understand. He said with a grin, "You mean one of Emily's safari companions was an Ml agent?"
Carstairs nodded. "Some travel writer or other. Seems a damned waste of talent."
Bishop chuckled. "Think he was taking snapshots too?" He had a sudden vivid picture of Mrs. Pollifax and a British agent swarming over the safari with their cameras.
"It's no longer important," Carstairs said, shrugging. "The safari ended Saturday and we'll soon have Mrs. Pollifax's photographs, and we can pool the results with London and Interpol. The pictures are what matter, although I'm certainly hoping she'll bring us Farrell as a dividend. I wonder if they've had their reunion yet . . ."
"As a matter of fact they have, sir."
Carstairs put down his cup of coffee and stared. "You've heard from her?"
"No," said Bishop, "but this cable arrived from Zambia while you were in conference. It's from John Sebastian himself, no less, datelined 2 p.m. yesterday Zambian time."
Carstairs brightened. "Marvelous! Is he coming back to us?"
"No," said Bishop, and read aloud:
SORRY CHAPS BOOKED SOLID FOR NEXT FEW YEARS STOP SUGGEST YOU BOOK EMILY HOWEVER BEFORE CYRUS BEATS YOU TO IT STOP DELIGHTED TO FIND DUCHESS STILL INDESTRUCTIBLE ALTHOUGH NOT FOR WANT OF TRYING STOP RETURNING HER TO YOU ONLY SLIGHTLY BRUISED WITH LOVE AND KISSES FARRELL.
"Now what," said Carstairs, "is that all about?" "I suspect he'd been drinking, sir," said Bishop, and tossed the cable into the wastebasket.
Mrs. Pollifax on Safari Page 18
