The Avenue of the Dead (11 page)

‘You shouldn't complain,' John Kidson said. ‘There aren't many idealists in politics.'

‘No, thank God,' James White retorted. ‘Otherwise we'd have been part of Russian-occupied Europe by now! He can afford to have high principles, so long as he has people like us to do the dirty work. Humphrey, I'll see you later. Let me know at once if you get anything from Davina.'

‘I'm so glad to meet you at last.' Edward Fleming had hold of Davina's hand; it was a firm handshake, a little longer lasting than was customary, but part of the warm way in which he spoke her name. A good-looking man, with friendly brown eyes, hair that was touched with grey and marvellous white teeth exposed in a generous smile. An aftershave that smelled of lemons. As the ambassador had said, he radiated charm.

She didn't like him. She couldn't find anything to criticize. He was the kind of man that both sexes would find personally attractive, but her dislike was so instant and so strong that she pulled her hand away. ‘I'm delighted you could come,' she said. ‘Liz tells me how busy you are. Politicians never seem to have any time to themselves.'

‘Life is hectic,' he admitted. ‘But very exciting. Don't you find Washington is an exciting place? And it's all coming from the President. It's a new dawn for the States – I feel so privileged to be a part of it. He's a great man, Davina – he brings out the best in everyone because he gives so much himself.' He was gazing at her earnestly, and she found herself embarrassed. Suddenly he smiled. ‘I'm sorry. I get over-enthusiastic. Liz would kill me if she heard me talking to you like that. She says I haven't any conversation any more; I talk to people like they're in the audience … Anyway, I made up my mind that nothing was going to stop me coming to your housewarming. I've heard so much about you from Liz.'

Elizabeth Fleming was in the background, talking to a couple Davina had met on the Washington social circuit. Her smile was inattentive, and she kept glancing towards her husband and her friend. Her best friend, as she kept telling everyone. She had been delighted when Davina suggested a small party to celebrate the studio flat. What a chance to pin down Eddie – he was always so busy, shut up in his office when he was at home – he'd make a special effort to come because he was curious to meet Davina. He didn't believe she had any real friends. He'd come just to prove that Davina was only an acquaintance from England, that there wasn't any genuine liking between them.

‘I'm always a bit apprehensive when somebody says that,' Davina said. ‘Whatever you've heard, I hope it's good. How's your glass?'

‘Fine, thanks. I can promise you, Liz has done nothing but sing your praises. What a coincidence, being at school together –'

‘Not such a coincidence really,' Davina said. ‘England is such a small place, and people tend to circulate around the same area when they live in the country. If you lived in Wiltshire, you probably went to Highfields.'

‘And you were such close friends,' he prompted. ‘It's great for Liz to meet up with you again. I'm afraid she's had a lot of time on her hands since I joined the administration. Having you around has been a real tonic for her.'

And then he said something that caught her right off guard. ‘A tonic without the vodka. Believe me, I hope you stay on in Washington as long as possible. Excuse me – there's my old buddy from your embassy. Hi, Peter – Peggy –' He had gone over to the Hicklings, one arm resting on Peter Hickling's shoulder, and was leaning over them a little, enveloping them in his friendship.

Tonic without the vodka. With the skill of a Venetian, he had slipped the dagger into his wife's reputation. Just supposing that her friend from England didn't know she was a drunk, she would know now. Colin Lomax came up behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder.

‘Come and talk to a friend of mine. Colonel Kramer, he's at the Pentagon. You might look tenderly on me for a change. We're supposed to be lovers.'

‘Go to hell,' Davina whispered. ‘Who's Colonel Kramer? This is supposed to be my party.'

‘He's a marine,' Lomax said. ‘We had some good times together. You'll like him.'

‘More than I do Mr Fleming,' she murmured, as they moved through the groups of people. ‘Go and talk to him. See what you think.'

‘I will; I'll settle you with Joe first.'

The colonel was a small man, neat and taut as a fine steel cable. He had a Southern accent that made treacle of his words. Lomax was right. She did like him. A professional; they all shared a kind of instinctive kinship. Their recognition sign was excellence.

Colin Lomax drifted away after a few minutes. The colonel gazed at her and said, ‘The boy is looking a lot better, ma'am. That must be due to you.'

‘I doubt it.' She turned the remark aside with a laugh. It didn't make sense.

‘I was mighty worried when I heard about it,' he went on. ‘A guy like that couldn't live in a wheelchair – but he was lucky. Luckier than some of my buddies were in Iran.'

‘You couldn't cripple him,' she said. ‘He's far too tough.'

His grin was slow and wide. ‘He's tough,' he said, and it was an accolade.

They talked briefly about Washington, then she steered the conversation back to Colin Lomax. She knew very little about his army career; he never talked about himself or mentioned a family. The colonel didn't need much encouragement to talk about him. She heard about the mission to Washington to advise on the rescue attempt. ‘I tell you, ma'am, he had hair down to his collar and he dressed any old how; I admit I said to myself, what's this supposed to be? What kind of unit are these British running? But I ate my words as soon as he started in on the plan of attack. They know what it's about, those guys. I just wish our boys had had their experience before they went into Iran.'

Davina listened, hiding her ignorance. When Kramer mentioned the George Medal she couldn't conceal her surprise. The colonel smiled his wide engaging smile. ‘He didn't tell you about that? Well, I guess he wouldn't … he's a modest type.'

‘Yes,' Davina murmured, ‘he certainly is. About his medal, certainly.' Her ignorance was embarrassing, but luckily the colonel didn't seem to notice how little she knew about the man who was posing as her lover. It had taken more than dinner at a Peking restaurant to persuade her that Lomax should spend nights in her flat. It required a terse telex from the brigadier himself. ‘Please comply with your instructions or return.' She had complied, and surprisingly Lomax had been very tactful. It made sense from the intelligence point of view; if they were openly living together they could operate as a team without exciting comment. And Lomax was able to give her continuous protection. She glanced across to where he stood, locked in conversation with Edward Fleming, and wondered what they had to talk about. They couldn't have been less alike – the urbane political figure and the ex-soldier, prickly as a desert cactus.

Elizabeth Fleming appeared beside her. ‘Thank you for the party, Mousey darling. It's been such fun – we have to go, Eddie's got some awful dinner party lined up with a senator from some dreary place in the Mid-West. I'll be bored out of my mind. When am I going to see you?' She was comparatively sober for a change.

She looked ill at ease, and kept glancing round to where her husband was standing, still talking to Colin Lomax. ‘He always hurries me away,' she whispered to Davina, ‘just when I'm enjoying myself. Then he keeps me waiting … you're free tomorrow, aren't you? We could go round the art galleries if you like. The Smithsonian is out of this world.'

I have to do it, Davina reminded herself. It's no good feeling sorry for her just because she's twitchy and trying to cling on to you. Lomax is right. You've got to pull the rug out from under her.

‘I'll come round in the morning,' she said. ‘I've got bad news, I'm afraid.' She saw Elizabeth change colour; the artificial pink on her cheeks stood out like blotches.

‘Bad news? What do you mean, Mousey, what's happened?'

Davina took her arm and steered her towards Edward Fleming. ‘I'll tell you tomorrow,' she said. She shook hands with Fleming. ‘Goodbye, thank you for coming.'

Elizabeth kissed her on both cheeks. She whispered, ‘What sort of bad news, Mousey? Please, ring me tonight.'

Davina didn't answer. She disengaged herself and walked to the front door with them. ‘Goodbye, Liz – thanks again for coming round. I'll see you tomorrow.'

By nine o'clock everyone had gone. She went round the sitting room collecting dirty glasses and emptying ashtrays. She shook the cushions into shape; she loaded a tray with empty bottles and took it out to the kitchen. The party had been a success. Colin Lomax had gone – he often disappeared without an explanation. It was none of her business where he went. Probably to dinner with the marine colonel. She didn't feel hungry, so she poured herself a drink and sat down. The flat was very quiet. She tried different channels on TV. There was nothing of interest.

She and Sasanov used to give parties in their little house in Perth. Their friends were members of the university, professors and a few students. They gathered together to eat and talk. She had found that Sasanov was gregarious, like all Russians. He loved company and he loved to keep them arguing and drinking into the night. He never wanted anyone to go home. They had been so completely happy together in those three years. As lovers and as friends.

She didn't hear Colin Lomax come in. He crossed the floor and stood watching her. ‘Instead of crying,' he said, ‘why don't you talk about it?'

‘There's nothing to talk about,' she said. ‘It was just very quiet here after the party. I'm all right now.'

‘You don't look all right to me,' he remarked. He sat on the sofa beside her instead of his usual chair. ‘It would help if you didn't bottle everything in so much. And you can't bring back the dead.'

‘He isn't dead to me,' said Davina. ‘Sometimes I feel as if Ivan was in the room with me. Some mornings I wake up and I think he's just got out of bed. What on earth am I telling you this for? I must be mad!'

‘You're not mad,' Lomax said. ‘You're lonely, that's the trouble. You haven't really come to terms with living on your own yet. You're still looking back, and it's no good. I know; I've lost a number of people who mattered to me. I know what you're thinking – they were only friends, there's no comparison. But there is; you get very close to a man who's pulled you out of trouble, even saved your life. And then they get killed. You feel sick and you feel empty, as if a part of yourself had gone. It makes for isolation too, if you're not careful.'

‘If we're going to talk,' Davina said, ‘then tell me about yourself. I didn't even know you'd been wounded until your friend the colonel told me. And about your medal. What happened?'

‘The medal doesn't matter. I only got it because I was lucky and didn't get caught. Better men than I could ever be got nothing. In a way the medal was for them too. That's what makes me value it. Otherwise I wouldn't have accepted any decoration. Not a very interesting story, I'm afraid.' He lit a cigarette, then said, ‘Sorry, do you want one?'

‘No thanks.'

‘I don't mean to be evasive about that particular incident, but one of my best friends was killed. He got the George too, but it made mine feel rather superfluous.'

‘I didn't mean to pry,' Davina said. There was a short, awkward pause, then suddenly he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette.

‘I know,' he said. ‘It must have been embarrassing for you with Kramer tonight. That's my fault, I didn't think he'd mention anything. Sure you don't want a cigarette? I was blown up just at the end of my tour of duty. We were on border patrol in Armagh, I was back in uniform by them. There were four of us, my sergeant and two soldiers. They detonated the bloody mine by remote control from across the fields. My armoured car was flattened like an empty beer can. They had to cut us out; my sergeant was dead, the other two died later. Just as well considering their injuries. I was the lucky one. My spinal cord wasn't damaged but a lot of the stuff made a mess of me inside. They got most of it out; there's a few bits floating around but they're harmless now. I spent a fair old time in hospital, and then I was invalided out. I couldn't pass the medical for active service, although it seemed bloody silly at the time. I didn't want to sit behind a desk and hadn't a clue what to do with myself. Then a chap I knew in the army asked me out to lunch. He suggested I might like civilian intelligence work. I jumped at the chance; I had a couple of interviews in London and they took me on. So here I am.'

‘I get the feeling,' Davina said, ‘that you're disappointed in it.'

‘It's a bit soon to tell,' he shrugged. ‘I don't know quite what I expected. Certainly not you. As you probably gathered.'

Davina smiled. ‘How much undercover work did you do?'

‘Quite a bit. In Ireland I mixed round in the pubs, picked up information. I had a cover story that stuck, thank God, or I wouldn't be here now. One day I'll do my Cork accent for you – it's not bad. My job was to get people to talk to me; there were quite a lot who didn't like what was happening and would have helped, but it was so bloody dangerous for them. The slightest suspicion and they'd shoot your elbows off, or kneecap you. That was just a warning. Everywhere you went there was the stink of fear – it really smells, do you know that? It's human sweat and there's no smell like it … The hell of it was the countryside was so beautiful – have you ever been to Ireland?' She shook her head. ‘It's lovely up there, mountainous and wild, like Scotland. It's greener than any place on earth. You can drive for miles and never see a house or a human soul. You know, there were times when I thought, a man could settle here. Other Scotsmen felt the same; it drew them as it drew me because it reminded them of home. That's where the trouble started. But you'd see the people watching you, three hundred years of blood between them and you and you knew it wouldn't work. I got to know a lot of families in the area. Funny thing is, I hated those bigoted Unionists as much as the Provos we were fighting. No surrender. Not an inch. So my men got blown up or shot dead. I miss the army but I don't miss Northern Ireland. Have you had anything to eat?'