The Care of Time by Eric Ambler

spoken to him on the telephone two days previously and, foolishly, tried to draw a mind’s-eye picture of a person from the sound of a voice. As usual I had failed. The voice had seemed to me dark and on the plump side. The man himself was straw-coloured, tall and thin. The weight I had imagined came from the quiet baritone assurance with which he spoke. He was in his forties and, according to Barbara, the father of six children.
    There was a large car with a beefy young driver waiting for us. As soon as we were installed in the back seat Pacioli pressed the button which raised the glass partition behind the front seats.
    ‘This is one of our special drivers,’ he said, ‘and I have never heard him utter a word of English, but we shall pretend that he might understand. How was the flight?’
    ‘I slept as far as Paris. The plane change there was a bit tiring.’
    ‘Well, I don’t think that you will be disturbed this evening. I can’t be sure of course. The intermediary preferred not to inform me in advance of her plans. You will be hearing from her direct.’
    There were thunderclouds still overhead and it had been raining heavily. The fluorescent lighting along the airport exit road glared on the wet pavement. His head was only half-turned towards me, but there was light enough for me to see that he was waiting intently for my reaction to what he had said.
    ‘Intermediary? Dr Luccio has an agent now?’
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘an intermediary, and you may well raise your eyebrows. I will be frank with you. If I had had my way you would not be here.’ He held up a quick hand. ‘Please, that is no reflection on you. We know and respect the quality of your work. But the house of Pacioli are serious publishers. We would not in former days have accepted to do this Luccio book under the proposed absurd conditions, or perhaps any conditions at all, not absurd. You must excuse me. When I am angry my English becomes confused.’
    ‘I understand you perfectly. But you haven’t yet told me what the set-up is.’
    ‘No, I haven’t. When my father originally proposed to us that we accept the participation of Syncom-Sentinel in the affairs of our house, we all of us agreed that it was a wise move. With the new electronic machinery, we have been able to produce our intermediate-format education books in our own plant. We have also earned good profits from what you call trade books. At the Frankfurt Book Fair these last two years we have made good showings and been much complimented. We are leaders in the field. Now, suddenly, we are obliged by Syncom to behave in a most undignified as well as a most unbusinesslike manner.’
    ‘They pressured you?’
    ‘I would not call it pressure. That can be resisted. No, theysimply gave us orders. They had Arab friends whom it was necessary to oblige by publishing a book. So, we had been chosen. May we read it? No, because it is not yet completely written. What you will do is commission it from Dr Luccio and employ an American editorial adviser, Robert Halliday, to assist in the work. May we meet Dr Luccio and discuss the proposed book with him? No, that will not be necessary. You will be sent a synopsis of the book in due course. It concerns the phenomenon of terrorism and will include a hitherto unpublished memoir of the nineteenth-century terrorist Sergei Nechayev. Your immediate task will be to secure expert appraisals of these old papers which must establish conclusively that they are indeed Nechayev’s work. No expense will be spared in securing favourable appraisals. Our lawyers in New York will act for you in hiring Mr Halliday. Acting for Dr Luccio will be an intermediary, Miss Simone Chihani. She is authorized to make day-to-day decisions on all matters of detail, particularly where security is concerned. Dr Luccio is a very private person and Miss Chihani’s security orders must be obeyed at all times and without question.’ He paused. ‘In asking to see your passport, Mr