Soldier No More (33 page)

“Yeah—
that
Archie Forbes—Dr Archibald Forbes of Rylands College—“ Bradford gave Audley another nod “—
his
old tutor and drinking buddy.”

“My old brigadier and
eminence grise
,” said Audley. “Why don’t you split your bounty-money with him, for God’s sake—and leave me alone!”

“Because he doesn’t know—that’s why. And you do.”

“Know what?” asked Jilly.

“Crap!” exclaimed Bradford. “All you have to do is
think
—“

Roche stirred himself. “Think what? Know what?”

Bradford turned towards him, screwing up his eyes in the darkness. “I took the goddamn book to Forbes at Cambridge—“

“But why?” asked Jilly.

“Because he’s an expert on medieval history, honey. They gave me his name in UCLA—they said whoever wrote it is a historian.”

“But Antonia Palfrey wrote it, Mike.”

Bradford spread his hands. “And who the hell’s Antonia Palfrey? It’s just a name on a book jacket—a nom-de-plume name, not a real one.”

“But there’s her picture—“

“Sure. But with no address. And she just turns up at intervals, out of the blue … sometimes in London, but mostly in New York … and then disappears again before the press can catch her. Or anyone else.”

“But her publishers must know where she lives, Mike.”

“And her lawyers,” said Stein.

“Huh! Well… if they know, they’re not telling me!”

“There are ways of finding out,” said Stein.

“Sure there are ways.” Bradford pointed at Audley. “He’s one way—“

But why David?” Jilly looked from one to the other.

“Why indeed!” murmured Audley. “Because that vindictive old swine Forbes set him on to me, of course! He hates my guts.”

But you were his favourite pupil, David,” said Stein.

“Favourite? That’s rich!” Audley rocked on his stool.

“But you were, old boy,” said Stein. “When you won the Hebden he even gave a party for you. I was there.”

“So you were. And so I
was
… so long as I danced to his tune.” He nodded at Stein. “I took the Hebden Prize from a chap at King’s—Bodger, or Badger, or some such unlikely name—who was the pet student of old Professor Hedley, whom Forbes cordially detested … After which I had great plans for myself. And so did Forbes.” He rocked again. “Unfortunately … unfortunately for
me
, that is … the plans did not coincide.

“What plans?”

“Oh—the usual sort of thing,” said Audley airily. “After my doctorate, a fellowship. There was one timed just right for me at Rylands, in medieval history. Number Two to Forbes, in fact.”

Jilly cocked her head. “But David, if that was Professor Forbes’s plan, why didn’t you—“

“My dear Jilly, that wasn’t
Forbes
’
s
plan—that was
mine
.” The lamplight caught Audley’s teeth again as he smiled, but for once the shadows seemed to Roche to betray his true expression in a mask of pain. “Bodger—Dr Bodger—got the fellowship.”

For a moment no one spoke, then Stein emitted a sympathetic grunt. “And what was Forbes’s plan?”

“Oh…that was… rather different.”

What was it?” Stein persisted. “More wine, Alexandra!”

An excellent idea!” said Audley heartily. “And then we shall toast all the Forbeses and Bodgers of this world, that they may receive their just reward.” He held out his glass to Lexy. “Fill it up, m’lady.”

“Not until you’ve told us Forbes’s plan,” said Lexy. “You can’t leave us with only half a story.”

Audley waved his glass. “I only tell that half when I’m drunk, Alexandra Champeney-Perowne.”

“But you
are
drunk, David.”

“Am I?” Audley looked around for confirmation.

“Sufficiently,” said Stein.

Audley shrugged. “Well… I suppose it’s no great secret.”

“What is?”

“I did a few months in Intelligence at the end of the war. Nasty, dirty, unchivalrous work.” He nodded. “Absolutely fascinating too.”

Yes?”

Another shrug. “Forbes wanted me to go back to it, that’s all. He said it was my patriotic duty—he said ‘Of those to whom much is given, much is required’. And ‘One must always risk one’s life, or one’s soul, or one’s peace—or some little thing’. And, finally, ‘Go where glory waits, Audley my boy’. The old, old story, in fact.”

“Yes?” Stein’s voice had lowered to a whisper.

Another shrug. “I was young. And I was in love with Cambridge—and history… And I was also stupid—I thought he was
asking
me, not
ordering
me …” Audley shook his head. “And the pay was rotten—and I needed money at the time rather badly, as it happened.”

Roche thought of The Old House.

“I reckoned I could do better for myself by following my own plans. So I told him to stuff his patriotism and his secret service where the monkey put the nuts— and I said the same, only more so, to the perfectly ghastly individual they sent to recruit me … Which, dear friends, was a mistake—not showing myself a pure-souled, high-minded youth—a fatal error.”

“He blocked your fellowship?” said Stein.

“Oh—he did more than that, the lusty old blackbird. He fixed me good and proper—and
permanently
, what’s more. And not a stain on his character, either.”

“How?”

“How?” The agonised smile came back. “There was this girl turned up—while I was putting the finishing touches to my doctoral thesis … absolutely gorgeous—the girl, I mean—the thesis was gorgeous too, even
he
couldn’t do anything about that … but
she
was nonpareil in beauty and wit—all that a young idiot could desire—Cordelia-Viola-Miranda-Juliet-Portia … Or, as she turned out, Goneril-Regan-Lady Macbeth-Mata Hari.”

“She was one of his, you mean?” said Stein.

“
No
, I do not
mean
—you underrate the man! Just the opposite, was what my Juliet was!”

“What d’you mean—the opposite?” said Jilly.

“Exactly that, Jilly dear. He’d put the word out—and the KGB picked it up.” Audley laughed. “I was just about to propose to her—we were punting on the Backs, all white flannel and silk—only she popped
her
question first.” Audley spread his hands. “And we had a row. And she fell into the river—“

“
She
proposed to
you
—?” Lexy sounded thunderstruck.

“She certainly did! She proposed that, since I didn’t want to serve the filthy, capitalist, war-mongering fascist beasts, then how about the other side? And, I tell you, Lexy love, the pay’s better—a lot better, so it seems. A man could employ a lot of builders and carpenters and plumbers and tilers just for the downpayment.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Stein.

“Not so good,” said Audley. “Because then he put out the word a second time. Only it was a different word, because my ex-Juliet was a known agent, who took the next plane back to Moscow after her swim in the Cam.” He surveyed his audience. “It’s what’s called ‘Guilt by association’, you see. It put my name on the red side of the ledger—
Not to be employed in a position of trust
…
quite unofficially, of course. But with the Cold War hotting up ‘quite unofficially’ was quite good enough to scupper me.”

“But that’s awful, David!” said Lexy. “If I tell Daddy about that he’ll talk to them for you—he’ll sort them out—“

“Don’t bother, Lexy love,” Audley shook his head.

“But—you could try Oxford, David. Daddy’s a fellow of All Souls—sort of honorary, or something—and he meets the Prime Minister there—
he
could get you a fellowship.”

“I said
don
’
t bother
”
Audley’s voice sharpened. “I don’t want a bloody fellowship now—at Oxford, or Cambridge, or anywhere else. They can stuff their fellowships.”

But—“

“What I want, Lexy love, is the one thing your daddy can’t give me. And not even Macmillan can give me either, if he’s doing his job right—that’s the whole delicious irony of the thing, really.”

What is?” said Stein.

“Irony?” echoed Jilly.

Audley’s eyes travelled across them, settling finally on Roche. “You wouldn’t understand—
he
might, but you wouldn’t—if what you say about him is right.”

“Me?” squeaked Roche, caught unawares.

“It probably isn’t right, my dear chap. But if you’ve got anything to do with intelligence work … would you employ me?”

Roche swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”

Audley shook his head. “I beg yours, Captain. I shouldn’t have asked the question … but if you were—which I’m sure you’re not—and you wouldn’t admit it if you were, anyway—but if you
wer
e
, you
wouldn
’
t
. That’s all.” He rocked on the stool. “But don’t bother to answer, Captain—it was just a hypothetical statement.”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” said Lexy. She looked at Roche. “What’s he saying, David?”

Roche understood exactly what Audley was saying, but still couldn’t believe what he had heard, because luck didn’t come to anyone packaged so neatly, not in a million years.

“David—“ began Jilly.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” said Audley. “Have another drink and forget every thing I said.”

“No!” snapped Jilly. “David—are you saying that you’d like to go back to intelligence work?”

“That’s exactly what he’s saying,” said Stein. “But
why
, David, for God’s sake? The sewage doesn’t smell any sweeter these days—if anything it’s dirtier, I should think.”

“Dirtier for sure, old boy,” agreed Audley. “Everything gets grubbier with time, it’s a natural process. No more worlds fit for heroes, no more capitalist heavens or socialist Utopias.”

“And no more British Empire,” said Stein. “You wouldn’t be playing Kipling’s ‘Great Game’ in the high passes any more—no more Bengal Lancers, old boy. No more glamour.”

“There never was any glamour.”

“No money either. You said they were stingy before—they’ll be even stingier now. You’ll spend half your time trying to cook your expenses.” Stein shook his head sadly.

“Oh … that wouldn’t worry him, darling.” Lexy surfaced again. “He’s positively rolling in the stuff, you know that!”

“Maybe he doesn’t like being on the losing side,” said Bradford. “Losing isn’t his style.”

Roche knew he couldn’t let that pass—not with what he still had to do. “We’re not damn well losing.”

Audley shook his head. “Oh—but we are, my dear chap. We’re losing very thoroughly and comprehensively—Mike’s right.” He nodded at the American. “Ever since we won we’ve been losing. Suez merely broadcast the message: no more ‘Rule Britannia’, no more Thin Red Line, no more
Civis Britannicus Sum
. The gateway in the wall has been bricked up, and John Foster Dulles has scratched ‘Finish’ on the plaster. You’re just commanding the rearguard, Roche.”

Roche scoured his wits for a reply. The trouble was that it was all true, and he was living proof of it, and all he wanted was to be on neither of these two sides, losing or winning—a plague on them both. And a plague on rearguards too, for that matter!

“The rearguard usually gets cut to pieces,” said Stein, smiling at him across the table. “It’s the place of honour, but the honour’s not quite your style either—now, is it?”

“Wrong again!” Audley revolved on his stool. “I told you—if Roche was recruiting, I’d be his man. Like that fellow Burton said—
if it be a sin to covet honour I am the most offending soul alive
.”

“Hogwash!” said Bradford, the embers of his recent anger glowing through the word. “Not you, David. Mischief—maybe. But not honour.”

Stein chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it as strong as that, Mike. But … not honour, I agree.”

Audley continued to revolve from side to side, as though he preferred to present a moving target. Yet he didn’t seem to be offended by the insults. ‘Well, maybe I was joking. But it’s all academic anyway—thanks to dear Archie … So let’s get back to my barbarians. I particularly want to tell you about the Vandals, a people for whom I have great sympathy—a people much misunderstood, like myself … In fact, when Izzy Collins and I started our rugger club, I wanted to call us the Vandals. But Izzy wouldn’t have it—he said we might as well call ourselves the Hooligans, and have done with it. So we settled for the Visigoths in the end, and—“

“No, David!” said Jilly. “We haven’t finished with you yet.”

Good girl
, thought Roche gratefully.

“With me, Jilly love?” Audley stopped rotating.

“That’s right,” said Lexy. “You still haven’t told us why you want to serve Her Majesty again, darling.”

“Won’t ‘Honour’ do?” Audley cocked his head at her.

“No,” said Stein.

“The Vandals are much more interesting. King Gaiseric is right up your street, Stein—“

“And it isn’t the money,” said Lexy. “We’ve established that—it’s poor, old Mike there who needs the cash, not David—“

Gaiseric,” said Audley. “King of the Vandals—“

Oh, do shut up, David!” said Lexy. “We’re on to something interesting now—really interesting. I’ve always wanted to know what makes you tick.” She rested her elbow on the table, and then her chin on her fist, and gazed at Audley fixedly. “
Not
honour … and
not
money … and it isn’t as if he’d get a pretty uniform to wear, like he used to in Daddy’s old regiment… so why this sudden rush of patriotism to the head, then? That’s what we have to find out.”

“Not the power and the glory,” said Stein drily.

“No?”

Lexy swivelled her chin on her fist. “Why not, Davey?”

“Precious little power. The Russians and the Yanks have all of that between them. The British
are
losers now—he said so himself.” Stein folded his arms. “And no glory, because it isn’t that sort of game. Not like rugger.”

“Not like rugger?”

Stein nodded. “You win in private, but you lose in public when things go wrong. And he doesn’t like losing.” He grinned wickedly at Audley. “Of course, you could try the KGB again, David. At least you’d have a better chance of winning with them.”