Circus by Alistair MacLean

anyway. The exception, of course, is Dr Harper, a dead man vouched for him and you can’t get any better recommendation than that. As for the rest of your men – who do you think killed Pilgrim and Fawcett? Without their protection, we might have a chance.’ Bruno turned abruptly and walked away. The admiral looked after him, with a slightly pained expression on his face, at a momentarily but highly unusual loss for words, but was saved the necessity of making comment by the arrival of a police sergeant carrying a small black box. That the uniform was not the property of the man inside it Wrinfield wasquite certain. When it came to local colour Charles – it was the only way Wrinfield could think of him – was not a man who missed much.
    The admiral said: ‘The recording –’ and when the sergeant nodded: ‘May we use your office, please, Mr Wrinfield?’
    â€˜Of course.’ Wrinfield looked around him. ‘Not here. In the train. Too many people.’
    The office door closed behind them, the sergeant took the recorder from its casing and Wrinfield said: ‘What do you expect to hear?’
    â€˜You.’ Wrinfield looked his astonishment. ‘Or a very close approximation of your voice. Or Bruno’s. Yours were the only two voices in the circus that Fawcett knew: he wouldn’t have come for anyone else.’
    They heard the recording through. At the end Wrinfield said calmly: ‘That’s meant to be me. Shall we hear it again?’
    They heard it through a second time then Wrinfield said positively: ‘That’s not my voice. You know it isn’t.’
    â€˜My dear Wrinfield, I never dreamed it would be. I know it isn’t. Now I know it isn’t. But I had to hear it a second time to make sure. When a man speaks in that hurried and distressed fashion, his voice takes on abnormal overtones. A piece of silk stretched across the mouthpiece is a great help. I don’t blame poor Fawcett for being fooled, especially when he had only the one thing on his mind at the time. But it’s a damned good imitationall the same.’ The admiral paused, ruminated, then looked at Wrinfield consideringly. ‘To the best of my knowledge and belief, and to yours, you don’t know and never have talked to any of my men. Right?’ Wrinfield nodded. ‘So I put it to you that this call was made by someone who knew your voice intimately and had studied it.’
    â€˜That’s preposterous. If you’re suggesting – ’
    â€˜Precisely what I am suggesting, I’m afraid. Look, man, if our organization can be infiltrated don’t you think your damned circus can be too? After all, you’ve got twenty-five nationalities working for you: I’ve got only one.’
    â€˜You’re the CIA. Everyone would want to infiltrate the CIA. Who’d want to infiltrate a harmless circus?’
    â€˜Nobody. But in the eyes of the ungodly you’re not a harmless circus, you’re an affiliate of the CIA and therefore ripe for infiltration. Don’t let blind loyalty blind your intelligence. Let’s hear that recording again. Only this time don’t listen for your own voice, listen for someone else’s. I should imagine you know the voice of every man in your employment. And to narrow the field, remember that most of your men speak with fairly heavy foreign accents. This is an Anglo-Saxon voice, probably American, although I can’t be sure.’
    They played the recording through four more times and at the end Wrinfield shook his head. ‘It’s no good. The distortion is far too heavy.’
    â€˜Thank you, officer, you may leave.’ The sergeant snapped the case shut and left. Briefly the admiral paced up and down the full length of the office – three steps in either direction – then shook his head in the reluctant acceptance of the inevitable. ‘What a charming thought. A link up