with the ear of the PM, had his own plans for a combined security
and intelligence service. And Aubrey knew that he intended Babbington
to head the new service, SAID. Everyone -
simply
everyone -
was waiting for his retirement. He could almost see the impatience in
Babbington's eyes, sense it in the room. And now, this - this
thing
that had lumbered out of one of his nightmares had fallen into their
hands, and they were all prepared to use it to get rid of him. It
almost did not matter to them whether he were guilty or innocent. He
would be removed and the new service would be inaugurated, and
Babbington would have his place in the sun.
Aubrey controlled his features once more. Babbington was enjoying
whatever expression of anger or bitterness played about his lips.
They had him now. Another Russian agent. Babbington was outraged,
even vengeful. That latter would be because he was an old family friend
of the Castlefords.
Evidently his face had again betrayed his thoughts, because
Babbington smiled and said with silky threat: "Whatever else may or may
not be true, Kenneth - if you betrayed Robert Castleford to the NKVD in
1946, I will have your head. I promise you that." The anger was cold,
well-savoured, decided upon. It was an emotion that had become a
motive, a mainspring of action. Aubrey avoided glancing towards Eldon's
glittering eyes.
Then Eldon said: "Sir Kenneth…" Aubrey looked venomously in his
direction. "Perhaps you would prefer that these conversations…" His
hands moved apart, suggesting the passage of a great deal of time; a
time without specified term. "… take place at one of our - residences
out of town?"
Aubrey shook his head. "I'm sure you realise that I would prefer to
cling to the familiar?" he replied with an acid smile. "In this case,
however, I would be using my surroundings as a constant reminder of
what is at stake for me - what I might lose."
"You would prefer to remain here, too, I suspect - comfort and
familiarity can be great betrayers." Eldon nodded his head in
acknowledgement. "No, we'll stay here, I think. Coffee?" he added
brightly.
"Please."
Aubrey lifted the small silver bell which Mrs Grey had instructed
him to buy and use as a proper means of summoning her, and it tinkled
softly in the comfortable room whose windows looked north over Regent's
Park. The central heating clunked dully. The morning's headlines lay
exposed and sharp on the table beside Aubrey's chair.
When he had ordered coffee, Aubrey said: "Why was no D-notice
issued, Babbington? Why the hue and cry? I can't see how that can be to
your advantage…"
"Not us. The Americans, we're pretty sure. They're impatient for
answers, for proof."
"Ah. They'd prefer to see the ascendency of your service completed."
His face folded into bitter creases, and his hand plucked for a moment
at the fringing on the armchair. "As would HMG, now that there is the
slightest doubt about myself. No country for old men, mm?" He looked up
at Babbington, whose face was as immobile as if he had suffered a
stroke. One eyelid flickered for a moment. Then Aubrey laughed, a
short, derisive bark. "My God, Babbington, you really
do
have
a lot to gain from my guilt!"
"And are you guilty, Sir Kenneth?" Eldon interjected.
Aubrey threw down his challenge. "I was using more sophisticated
techniques of interrogation when you were still fagging for your house
captain, Eldon."
"I'm well aware of your reputation, Sir Kenneth."
"Ah, coffee - excellent. Thank you, Mrs Grey."
Mrs Grey deposited the silver tray on the sideboard, bestowed
glances of proprietorial malice upon Aubrey's visitors, and then left
the room. Aubrey poured the coffee, fussing over it in a caricature of
aged bachelorhood. He flexed mental muscles as he did so. Then he
returned to his seat.
"Well, gentlemen?" he asked brightly. "I have the last forty-five
years to lose, and the emperor's new clothes…" He indicated the large
room and its furniture. "Perhaps you'd better
and intelligence service. And Aubrey knew that he intended Babbington
to head the new service, SAID. Everyone -
simply
everyone -
was waiting for his retirement. He could almost see the impatience in
Babbington's eyes, sense it in the room. And now, this - this
thing
that had lumbered out of one of his nightmares had fallen into their
hands, and they were all prepared to use it to get rid of him. It
almost did not matter to them whether he were guilty or innocent. He
would be removed and the new service would be inaugurated, and
Babbington would have his place in the sun.
Aubrey controlled his features once more. Babbington was enjoying
whatever expression of anger or bitterness played about his lips.
They had him now. Another Russian agent. Babbington was outraged,
even vengeful. That latter would be because he was an old family friend
of the Castlefords.
Evidently his face had again betrayed his thoughts, because
Babbington smiled and said with silky threat: "Whatever else may or may
not be true, Kenneth - if you betrayed Robert Castleford to the NKVD in
1946, I will have your head. I promise you that." The anger was cold,
well-savoured, decided upon. It was an emotion that had become a
motive, a mainspring of action. Aubrey avoided glancing towards Eldon's
glittering eyes.
Then Eldon said: "Sir Kenneth…" Aubrey looked venomously in his
direction. "Perhaps you would prefer that these conversations…" His
hands moved apart, suggesting the passage of a great deal of time; a
time without specified term. "… take place at one of our - residences
out of town?"
Aubrey shook his head. "I'm sure you realise that I would prefer to
cling to the familiar?" he replied with an acid smile. "In this case,
however, I would be using my surroundings as a constant reminder of
what is at stake for me - what I might lose."
"You would prefer to remain here, too, I suspect - comfort and
familiarity can be great betrayers." Eldon nodded his head in
acknowledgement. "No, we'll stay here, I think. Coffee?" he added
brightly.
"Please."
Aubrey lifted the small silver bell which Mrs Grey had instructed
him to buy and use as a proper means of summoning her, and it tinkled
softly in the comfortable room whose windows looked north over Regent's
Park. The central heating clunked dully. The morning's headlines lay
exposed and sharp on the table beside Aubrey's chair.
When he had ordered coffee, Aubrey said: "Why was no D-notice
issued, Babbington? Why the hue and cry? I can't see how that can be to
your advantage…"
"Not us. The Americans, we're pretty sure. They're impatient for
answers, for proof."
"Ah. They'd prefer to see the ascendency of your service completed."
His face folded into bitter creases, and his hand plucked for a moment
at the fringing on the armchair. "As would HMG, now that there is the
slightest doubt about myself. No country for old men, mm?" He looked up
at Babbington, whose face was as immobile as if he had suffered a
stroke. One eyelid flickered for a moment. Then Aubrey laughed, a
short, derisive bark. "My God, Babbington, you really
do
have
a lot to gain from my guilt!"
"And are you guilty, Sir Kenneth?" Eldon interjected.
Aubrey threw down his challenge. "I was using more sophisticated
techniques of interrogation when you were still fagging for your house
captain, Eldon."
"I'm well aware of your reputation, Sir Kenneth."
"Ah, coffee - excellent. Thank you, Mrs Grey."
Mrs Grey deposited the silver tray on the sideboard, bestowed
glances of proprietorial malice upon Aubrey's visitors, and then left
the room. Aubrey poured the coffee, fussing over it in a caricature of
aged bachelorhood. He flexed mental muscles as he did so. Then he
returned to his seat.
"Well, gentlemen?" he asked brightly. "I have the last forty-five
years to lose, and the emperor's new clothes…" He indicated the large
room and its furniture. "Perhaps you'd better
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