answer.
Not to panic, though.
He looked from Audley back to Llewelyn. ‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ he answered.
Audley’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You’ll do what?’
‘My dear fellow, it’s good to see you again,’ Stocker rose elegantly from his chair beside the table. ‘And good of you to come.’
Audley grunted, staring over his spectacles directly at Llewelyn, who stared just as directly back. The pot and the kettle; the Mountain and Mahomet. Old acquaintances who had forgotten nothing over the years – and learnt a little too much.
‘Llewelyn needs no introduction, I know,’ continued Stocker, overcoming the impossible simply by ignoring it. ‘But I don’t believe you’ve encountered Yeatman before.’
Audley tore his gaze away from Llewelyn and nodded to the smaller of the nondescripts.
‘And – ‘ began Stocker.
‘Cox,’ said Audley. ‘Special Branch.’
‘We’ve never met, Dr. Audley.’ Cox didn’t seem put out by being pinned like a butterfly in Audley’s memory, merely curious.
‘Rome ‘68. You were pointed out to me,’ said Audley, reaching for a chair. Ignoring everyone else he turned back to Llewelyn.
‘So someone wants you dead.’
‘It would appear so.’
‘Is there a short list?’ Audley spoke as though the list ought to be long rather than short.
‘Anyone with a vested interest in another Middle Eastern war,’ answered Llewelyn equably.
‘Like the P.F.L.P.?’
‘It’s possible. Or the Sons of Eleazar.’
Audley shook his head. ‘If – ‘ he underscored the word heavily ‘ if the Sons of Eleazar wanted you dead you’re on borrowed time. But it isn’t their policy, anyway.’
‘Policies change.’
‘Has there been a change of policy then?’
Llewelyn considered the question for a moment. For a man discussing his own death he was remarkably cool, Roskill thought.
‘To be honest – no, not as far as I know.’
‘Have there been any similar killings in recent months? Or attempts?’
‘Not in Europe as far as I know.’
‘I’d like that checked out.’
Llewelyn nodded towards Yeatman.
‘And I must have a complete run-down on what you’ve been doing recently.’
‘Yeatman will supply you with whatever you need.’
Roskill squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He never found an upright chair yet that fitted his behind. Worse, Audley seemed to be steering the conversation away from what seemed to him to be the crucial questions.
‘Who are the Sons of Eleazar, for heaven’s sake?’ he asked.
‘Second generation of the Jewish terrorist groups – like the Stern Gang and the Irgun Zvai Leumi, you might say,’ said Llewelyn. ‘Another war would suit them very nicely and assassination is part of their tradition.’
‘Absolute balderdash!’ Audley growled. ‘There’s not a shred of evidence to prove continuity. I grant you they were terrorist groups, the I.Z.L. and the Stern Gang, but the P.L.F.P.’s their equivalent today. They were occupied territory phenomena — Lohamei heruth Yisrael , “Freedom fighters of Israel”, that’s what the Stern Gang called itself. The Sons of Eleazar are simply the lunatic fringe of the Israeli hawks, and even they don’t think war is desirable – just inevitable.’
‘It’s the same family tree,’ said Llewelyn. ‘They don’t like peacemakers now any more than they did when they murdered Bernadotte in ‘48.’
‘And Abdullah and Nokrashi? My God, man – if it’s murder statistics you want I can give you ten Arab ones for every Jewish one. It was the Arabs who gave us the word assassin , not the Jews.’
‘And the Jews gave us zealot ,’ said Llewelyn mildly. ‘But I don’t think etymology is going to help us much. The concepts of political murder and fanaticism are somewhat older ihan our words for them, after all. The point is that in my opinion it could have been either of them, Roskill. What I want you and Audley to try and find out is which one. You can leave the rest to us
Not to panic, though.
He looked from Audley back to Llewelyn. ‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ he answered.
Audley’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You’ll do what?’
‘My dear fellow, it’s good to see you again,’ Stocker rose elegantly from his chair beside the table. ‘And good of you to come.’
Audley grunted, staring over his spectacles directly at Llewelyn, who stared just as directly back. The pot and the kettle; the Mountain and Mahomet. Old acquaintances who had forgotten nothing over the years – and learnt a little too much.
‘Llewelyn needs no introduction, I know,’ continued Stocker, overcoming the impossible simply by ignoring it. ‘But I don’t believe you’ve encountered Yeatman before.’
Audley tore his gaze away from Llewelyn and nodded to the smaller of the nondescripts.
‘And – ‘ began Stocker.
‘Cox,’ said Audley. ‘Special Branch.’
‘We’ve never met, Dr. Audley.’ Cox didn’t seem put out by being pinned like a butterfly in Audley’s memory, merely curious.
‘Rome ‘68. You were pointed out to me,’ said Audley, reaching for a chair. Ignoring everyone else he turned back to Llewelyn.
‘So someone wants you dead.’
‘It would appear so.’
‘Is there a short list?’ Audley spoke as though the list ought to be long rather than short.
‘Anyone with a vested interest in another Middle Eastern war,’ answered Llewelyn equably.
‘Like the P.F.L.P.?’
‘It’s possible. Or the Sons of Eleazar.’
Audley shook his head. ‘If – ‘ he underscored the word heavily ‘ if the Sons of Eleazar wanted you dead you’re on borrowed time. But it isn’t their policy, anyway.’
‘Policies change.’
‘Has there been a change of policy then?’
Llewelyn considered the question for a moment. For a man discussing his own death he was remarkably cool, Roskill thought.
‘To be honest – no, not as far as I know.’
‘Have there been any similar killings in recent months? Or attempts?’
‘Not in Europe as far as I know.’
‘I’d like that checked out.’
Llewelyn nodded towards Yeatman.
‘And I must have a complete run-down on what you’ve been doing recently.’
‘Yeatman will supply you with whatever you need.’
Roskill squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He never found an upright chair yet that fitted his behind. Worse, Audley seemed to be steering the conversation away from what seemed to him to be the crucial questions.
‘Who are the Sons of Eleazar, for heaven’s sake?’ he asked.
‘Second generation of the Jewish terrorist groups – like the Stern Gang and the Irgun Zvai Leumi, you might say,’ said Llewelyn. ‘Another war would suit them very nicely and assassination is part of their tradition.’
‘Absolute balderdash!’ Audley growled. ‘There’s not a shred of evidence to prove continuity. I grant you they were terrorist groups, the I.Z.L. and the Stern Gang, but the P.L.F.P.’s their equivalent today. They were occupied territory phenomena — Lohamei heruth Yisrael , “Freedom fighters of Israel”, that’s what the Stern Gang called itself. The Sons of Eleazar are simply the lunatic fringe of the Israeli hawks, and even they don’t think war is desirable – just inevitable.’
‘It’s the same family tree,’ said Llewelyn. ‘They don’t like peacemakers now any more than they did when they murdered Bernadotte in ‘48.’
‘And Abdullah and Nokrashi? My God, man – if it’s murder statistics you want I can give you ten Arab ones for every Jewish one. It was the Arabs who gave us the word assassin , not the Jews.’
‘And the Jews gave us zealot ,’ said Llewelyn mildly. ‘But I don’t think etymology is going to help us much. The concepts of political murder and fanaticism are somewhat older ihan our words for them, after all. The point is that in my opinion it could have been either of them, Roskill. What I want you and Audley to try and find out is which one. You can leave the rest to us
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