Soldier No More (20 page)

“—I say once—“

“But, damn it—he was flying last year—he was with the Israelis at Suez!” protested Roche.

“And I say
nothing known
. Ends,” snapped Genghis Khan. “
Subject
, Bradford, Michael LeRoy; United States Army, 1942-46, captain 758th Combat Engineers, European theatre; visiting lecturer in English Literature and Language, Hawkins College, California; novelist; occasional script-writer, various Hollywood studios; extensive travel, Europe, Middle East, 1951 to date; known contacts CIA London, Paris, Beirut, Cairo, unconfirmed Rome, Bordeaux, Lyons. Category ‘C 1952, updated ‘B’ 1955. Ends.”

That was better. Or not exactly better, but more predictable. Or, not better
at all
, even if Category ‘B’ was no more than the sum of those contacts, which could well be accidental and innocent with all the CIA agents that were in the field at any moment, which any travelled American might make through sheer chance. In short, Bradford had been observed in doubtful company four times, and maybe seven times, over five years, but had never been known actually to
do
anything; but the Comrades always assumed the worst until the subject proved the opposite, which was almost impossible, short of his actually offering them his services.

But that made Colonel David Aaron Stein’s
nothing known
all the more surprising, because
nothing known
meant just that. As near as dammit, Colonel David Aaron Stein must be a-political, that meant; and, for an Israeli, that sounded near impossible—

“
Subject
, Baker, Gillian Agnes, only daughter of Archdeacon and Mrs Wilfrid Baker, Old Sarum, Wiltshire; scholar of Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford; Assistant-Principal, Foreign Office. Ends.”

Nothing known
didn’t apply to poor Jilly—didn’t and couldn’t, even though they obviously didn’t know anything much about her. Because with Jilly the established Soviet diplomatic analogy already applied: if she worked for the British Foreign Office she would already be guilty as charged, even if she hadn’t turned up on Audley’s doorstep as ordered to help Roche establish himself. He had been foolish to think they’d accept his word for her innocence.

“
Subject
, Champeney-Perowne, Alexandra Mary Henrietta, eldest daughter of Denzil Arthur Fitzroy Champeney-Perowne—“ Genghis Khan managed the whole mouthful of names with his accustomed lack of passion “—Tenth Earl of Cotswold, MVO, DSO, MC, MA (Cantab.); brigadier-general, retired; colonel-in-chief, Royal South Wessex Dragoons; nothing known—“

Roche grinned into the mouthpiece.
Nothing known
in the case of Denzil Arthur Fitzroy
et cetera
meant that everything was known about him, and his father, and his father’s father, all the way back to the moment when the bed-springs had creaked to receive His Gracious Majesty King Charles II alongside their resourceful Champeney-Perowne ancestress, and that it was all there to see in Debrett’s and Burke’s
Peerage
and
Who
’
s Who
. And the idea of Genghis Khan quoting from those seminal works was captivating.

“—and Cornelia Ashley, nee Vanderhorn, American citizen—“

Lexy’s mum was a Yankee!

“—nothing known—“

Vanderhorn sounded like dollars—oil, banking, meat packing, peanuts?—dollars in exchange for the coronet of a marchioness!

“—born New Hampshire, American citizen—“

And that applied to Lexy herself:
Lexy
was an American citizen, by God!

“—known contact CIA London, New York, 1956. Category ‘C’ 1956—“

“You’re joking!” exclaimed Roche.

“What?”

“I said ‘You’re joking’,” said Roche.

“I am not joking,” said Genghis Khan unjocularly. “Are you requesting repetition?”

“No. I’m requesting a little bloody common-sense. Are you telling me Lex—Lady Alexandra… is a CIA contact?”

There was a pause. “I am saying she is Category ‘C’ 1956.” Another pause. “What are you saying?”

Roche thought for a moment, and came to the conclusion that a doormat was what people wiped their feet on. “I’m saying … I’m saying that I’m just about to make myself agreeable to Lady Alexandra Champeney-Perowne—if possible,
very
agreeable … and I suppose I’m also saying… I know the CIA are good, but surely they’re not that good? So what the hell are you saying, then?”

There was another pause. Then “Wait,” said Genghis Khan.

Roche waited. Category ‘C’ didn’t mean anything, as he had already told himself. But in this instance he wanted to be sure.

The pause elongated. Obviously Genghis Khan was making further inquiries, even further afield on another phone. And the idea of Genghis Khan jumping for him fed Roche’s courage and self-esteem at compound interest rates.

The phone crackled in his ear. “We are still inquiring. Are you able to wait?”

Another nought appeared on Roche’s deposit of courage. “For a few minutes more, maybe … One thing, though: do you have any idea where Audley’s money comes from? He seems to be ‘of independent means’, as they say, but his father … his father … was up to his ears in debt. So he’s acquired ready cash from somewhere—and quite a lot of it. Have you anything on that?”

This time the delay was only to be expected, since this hadn’t been one of the questions on the list, and sub-stations weren’t geared for this type of uncleared traffic. But if Genghis Khan was as top-brass as Roche guessed he must be, then he just might bend the rules.

“We have nothing on that.” He betrayed nothing in his voice, either. The bending was still in the balance. “I would prefer to talk to you face-to-face on the matter.”

The idea of Genghis Khan swanning around in Raymond Galles’s neck of the woods was not to Roche’s taste at all. “That might be difficult. I’m going to be pretty tied-up the next day or two. I’m not sure I can get away.”

You will get away if I require you to do so.”

Roche dug into his capital. “I’ll get away if it’s safe to do so. I don’t promise anything—not if you want results.”

He wished he could see Genghis Khan’s face, even though there’d be no expression on it. Face-to-face was better, and in the end safer too, in spite of all the complications.

But not just now.

“Information has been received on Audley,” said Genghis Khan out of the silence, apropos of nothing. “Rather curious information. He’s a strange man.”

You can say that again
, thought Roche. “How d’you mean?”

Sniff
. And
sniff
, in the context of Genghis Khan, was a manifestation of extreme emotion.

“He worked for British Intelligence, from maybe 1944 to 1946. In Germany, perhaps in France, perhaps in Spain … perhaps also in Greece—we are not sure. He was very young.”

“And that’s strange?”

“We are being circumspect, and that makes investigation difficult, and more so with the passage of time.” Genghis Khan ignored the question. “He left them … it appears that he left them in anger in ‘46—mutual anger. We believe that he disobeyed orders. Or possibly he misinterpreted orders— again we are not sure. We are not sure about anything.”

And they didn’t like being unsure, that was for sure.

“But they surely want him back now,” Roche goaded him. “And they tried to get him back once before, too.”

“That is correct. It was at Cambridge, in ‘49. We have that authenticated beyond doubt.”

There was more to it than that—and that offered a very obvious hypothesis. “Did
we
approach him at Cambridge—after he turned
them
down?” Roche chanced his arm. “What happened?”

Genghis Khan chewed on the questions in silence for a time. “It was…a very gentle contact. Very circumspect, you understand.”

‘Circumspect’ was the in-word of the moment. But there was the minutest suggestion in that passionless voice that the very gentle circumspection of 1949 hadn’t fooled David Longsdon Audley for one minute.

“Yes?” inquired Roche innocently.

“It was not successful.”

“How not successful?”

Pause. “It was rejected.”

“He went to the police, you mean? Or the Special Branch?”

Pause. “He threw our contact into the river, from a flat-bottomed boat.”

The ‘flat-bottomed boat’ added a vivid realism to Audley’s rejection of the chance to join the destined conquerors of the world. Recruitment— would-be recruitment—on a punt on the Cam was an unusually imaginative touch, nevertheless!

Roche smiled. “Well, he’s a big fellow, so they say. I expect he caught our man at a disadvantage, anyway.”

Sniff
. “Our man was a woman.”

Well! Well… maybe Oliver St.John Latimer did have it right, at that! And add
unchivalrous
and
eccentric
to all those other attributes into the bargain!

“I see what you mean by ‘strange’,” agreed Roche carefully. It was also rather strange that Genghis Khan should have told all this in such detail, unless he’d calculated that nothing but the truth would serve to warn Roche himself of the perils that lay ahead. “I’ll make a point of not going boating with him.”

“When he travelled in the Middle East—he has travelled extensively in the course of … historical research—“ Genghis Khan brushed aside Roche’s levity “—he made it a practice to visit the ministries of police to explain that he had served with British Intelligence during the war in Europe, but was no longer a serving officer. He did this in Egypt and Syria and Jordan and the Lebanon.”

Well
again! Now …
that
was what Genghis Khan had really meant by ‘strange’, not the Cam punting episode at all! And it was strange, by God! (It was not in the least strange that Genghis Khan knew about it: the Comrades had all those police ministries sewn up tightly, for sure, and it wouldn’t have needed any circumspection to throw up that information, for even surer!)

But, of course, neither those ministries nor the Comrades would have taken such a disclaimer on its face value; rather, it would have put them on their mettle.

And yet, obviously, all consequent investigations had proved negative— obviously, not only because if it hadn’t been so he wouldn’t be here now, trying to recall this strange man to the colours, but also because if there had been anything to unearth, the combined efforts of half a dozen middle eastern security departments and those of the Comrades would have done it by now.

And yet it was still
strange
… or, it would be still so if everything about the man wasn’t of a piece with it. In fact, with everything going against him, Audley appeared to have achieved classic
nothing known
status.

“So he’s clean, then?”

“Until now,” agreed Genghis Khan.

“Of course. As soon as I meet him he goes into Category ‘A’, naturally.”

“I don’t mean that—wait!” Genghis Khan abruptly cut off further inquiry.

Roche squinted down the sunlit street. He could see his Volkswagen, but there was still no Lady Alexandra beside it to force him to break contact before he had discovered what sort of relationship she had had with the CIA.

“Very well.” The phone reclaimed him. “The woman Charnpeney-Perowne is confirmed Category ‘C’. But you are right—it is a bureaucratic nonsense nevertheless.”

Roche’s morale went down and up in quick succession. “What the hell does that mean?”

“She had a close contact. A known agent in their trade delegation in London, and then in New York. It is of no significance whatsoever—you can discount it.”

“A close contact?”

“The contact was in bed. He has since left their service.” Genghis Khan sounded as though he would have sounded angry if he had ever allowed himself the luxury of sounding anything recognisable. “We have wasted too much time on her.
Subject
, Stephanides, Meriel Aspasia, British passport; daughter of Nikos Stephanides, of Cypriot-Jewish extraction, hotel-keeper, London, known agent Sherut Yediot 1945-48, Mossad 1948 onwards; daughter known agent Mossad 1953 onwards, operating Cambridge and London Metropolitan area, present cover literary agent, Liddell Carver Associates—“

Christ!

“—active, inform Central Records movements priority urgent, ends.”

Christ
! thought Roche again numbly. Not Greek or Anglo-Greek, but Greek-Cypriot Jewish. And not just Greek-Cypriot Jewish, but Mossad. And not merely Mossad, but second-generation Mossad, the daughter of a man who’d been an Israeli agent even before Israel had existed. And not just second generation Mossad, but
active, inform Central Record
s movements priority urgent
—which meant a top-flight agent whose every movement had to be reported double quick to Central Records so that the Comrades in the field could be warned of trouble before it enveloped them.

He swallowed as much of that as he could. “Well, she’s here.”

“Where—exactly?”

“I don’t know, exactly. She’s staying with Miss Baker and Lady Alexandra … in a cottage owned by a Madame Peyrony, a few kilometres outside Neuville, where I’m phoning from. But I haven’t been there yet.” It was occurring to Roche belatedly that he was the Comrade in this particular field, and nobody had warned him that Meriel Stephanides was already busy ploughing the field up.

“But you’re going there now?”

“Yes.” His telephone-holding hand was sweating.

“Excellent!”

“What’s excellent about it?” It also occurred to him that Genghis Khan had deliberately kept the good news about Meriel Stephanides to last, either in order not to demoralise him, or (more likely) just for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Her presence confirms the importance of whatever it is they want Audley to do—that is obvious.” Genghis Khan paused in order to let the obvious sink deep into Roche’s stomach. “Do you require assistance?”

Yes—

“No. I haven’t even recruited Audley yet.”

“Well, I advise you to do that as quickly as possible—for your own sake. Then we’ll see about Mademoiselle Stephanides. Meanwhile, I will make contact with you tomorrow at 0900, by the south gate of Neuville. I will have further information for you by then.”