that.’
‘I don’t give a damn what you believe, either. But I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that if I’d been born in 1920 I should have flown a Spitfire in 1940 – unless I’d been born in Germany. In which case I should have flown a Messerschmitt 109. And just as happily, too!’
‘And there’s no right and no wrong?’ Llewelyn’s Welsh lilt was stronger now. A true believer, thought Roskill – and God save us from the true believers…
‘The Arabs and the Jews? I should say they’re both right and both wrong, and I wouldn’t trust either of ‘em. But neither of them is on my side, so for Christ’s sake let’s get down to business.’
Audley would be bursting in any moment, and so far nothing of value had been achieved.
Llewelyn and Stocker exchanged glances, as if to reassure each other that they had the right tool to hand, a crude one, but serviceable.
‘Very well, Roskill,’ said Llewelyn. ‘It may not interest you to know it, but despite appearances there is at this moment an outside chance of some sort of Middle Eastern settlement. The best chance for a long time, in fact, despite recent events – perhaps because of them even. Just one gesture of mutual trust might tip the balance – and one gesture of mutual hate might tip it the other way.’
‘Such as your death?’
Llewelyn regarded him steadily. ‘Strange as it may seem – yes. I’ve been working behind the scenes – just how is no concern of yours.’
Just as Llewelyn had been right about Audley, so Audley had been right about Llewelyn: he had been up to something.
‘Who wants you dead then? Who wants the balance tipped that way?’
‘That’s the difficulty. There are hawks and unofficial groups on both sides. But we’ll discuss that when Audley’s here. It’s Audley I want to discuss now – would you call yourself a friend of his?’
‘In as far as anyone is – yes.’
Llewelyn nodded, unsmiling. ‘Good. It’s a friend we need to protect him.’
‘Protect him? I’m not a bloody bodyguard,’ Roskill demurred. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start – and I’ve never fired a shot in anger in my life. You need another sort of friend for that!’
‘Not from other people – from himself,’ Stocker cut in. ‘Audley’s a brilliant man, but he’s not a practical man and he goes his own way. This time he could run into something nasty if he does that, and we must have early warning of it – from you.’
‘If there’s trouble we want to handle it,’ said Llewelyn soothingly. ‘But even if he doesn’t run himself into anything we still have to know what he’s doing. You kept an eye on him last time, Stocker tells me. We just want you to do the same again, no more, no less.’
‘Under protest, I did it – did Stocker tell you that? And did he tell you I wasn’t very good at it, either? Audley’s not a confiding soul at the best of times.’
‘But you know him better now – and it shouldn’t be more difficult than persuading him to come up here. If you can do the one I’d trust you to manage the other.’
Roskill looked at them woodenly, barely controlling the urge to smile: they were all so bloody good at computing the angles – and that went for Audley too – that it was a wonder they didn’t disappear up their own orifices.
Except that it was neither a laughing matter nor a game; the memory of Alan Jenkins spoiled the fun and ruined the game.
‘So you’ll do it?’
Actually it was appropriate that Llewelyn and Audley should each cast him to betray the other, for in a way the whole business was founded on his actions. He, and no one else, had set them on their collision course; how many more collisions would it take to resolve his cowardice?
The knock at the door startled him, and before he could collect his wits he was looking up at Audley in the: doorway – Audley who had arrived just ten seconds too early, even though he knew the question had already supplied the
‘I don’t give a damn what you believe, either. But I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that if I’d been born in 1920 I should have flown a Spitfire in 1940 – unless I’d been born in Germany. In which case I should have flown a Messerschmitt 109. And just as happily, too!’
‘And there’s no right and no wrong?’ Llewelyn’s Welsh lilt was stronger now. A true believer, thought Roskill – and God save us from the true believers…
‘The Arabs and the Jews? I should say they’re both right and both wrong, and I wouldn’t trust either of ‘em. But neither of them is on my side, so for Christ’s sake let’s get down to business.’
Audley would be bursting in any moment, and so far nothing of value had been achieved.
Llewelyn and Stocker exchanged glances, as if to reassure each other that they had the right tool to hand, a crude one, but serviceable.
‘Very well, Roskill,’ said Llewelyn. ‘It may not interest you to know it, but despite appearances there is at this moment an outside chance of some sort of Middle Eastern settlement. The best chance for a long time, in fact, despite recent events – perhaps because of them even. Just one gesture of mutual trust might tip the balance – and one gesture of mutual hate might tip it the other way.’
‘Such as your death?’
Llewelyn regarded him steadily. ‘Strange as it may seem – yes. I’ve been working behind the scenes – just how is no concern of yours.’
Just as Llewelyn had been right about Audley, so Audley had been right about Llewelyn: he had been up to something.
‘Who wants you dead then? Who wants the balance tipped that way?’
‘That’s the difficulty. There are hawks and unofficial groups on both sides. But we’ll discuss that when Audley’s here. It’s Audley I want to discuss now – would you call yourself a friend of his?’
‘In as far as anyone is – yes.’
Llewelyn nodded, unsmiling. ‘Good. It’s a friend we need to protect him.’
‘Protect him? I’m not a bloody bodyguard,’ Roskill demurred. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start – and I’ve never fired a shot in anger in my life. You need another sort of friend for that!’
‘Not from other people – from himself,’ Stocker cut in. ‘Audley’s a brilliant man, but he’s not a practical man and he goes his own way. This time he could run into something nasty if he does that, and we must have early warning of it – from you.’
‘If there’s trouble we want to handle it,’ said Llewelyn soothingly. ‘But even if he doesn’t run himself into anything we still have to know what he’s doing. You kept an eye on him last time, Stocker tells me. We just want you to do the same again, no more, no less.’
‘Under protest, I did it – did Stocker tell you that? And did he tell you I wasn’t very good at it, either? Audley’s not a confiding soul at the best of times.’
‘But you know him better now – and it shouldn’t be more difficult than persuading him to come up here. If you can do the one I’d trust you to manage the other.’
Roskill looked at them woodenly, barely controlling the urge to smile: they were all so bloody good at computing the angles – and that went for Audley too – that it was a wonder they didn’t disappear up their own orifices.
Except that it was neither a laughing matter nor a game; the memory of Alan Jenkins spoiled the fun and ruined the game.
‘So you’ll do it?’
Actually it was appropriate that Llewelyn and Audley should each cast him to betray the other, for in a way the whole business was founded on his actions. He, and no one else, had set them on their collision course; how many more collisions would it take to resolve his cowardice?
The knock at the door startled him, and before he could collect his wits he was looking up at Audley in the: doorway – Audley who had arrived just ten seconds too early, even though he knew the question had already supplied the
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