The Longest Pleasure (26 page)

And if that was clear thinking, Alexander Petrovich Galitsin was going mad. But possibly Galitsin was already mad. Had gone mad in that solitary cell where there had been no light. Undoubtedly. Certainly Galitsin was mad ever to suppose he could sustain this role for which he was so totally unfitted. No. Not mad. Alexander Petrovich Galitsin was only a fool.

But the cold
had
cleared his mind. In retrospect, he could only wonder that he had ever been confused.

He went into the house, put on his greatcoat, took it off again. Simple mistakes like that were his biggest dangers. He wondered how much a top coat would cost, in England, opened the desk drawer. Twenty, thirty pounds. That seemed a lot of money. He should be able to get a coat for that. And a hat. And an umbrella. That was important. The necessary props to make him into an Englishman, for just a few hours. That would be amusing.

But first it was time for another drink.

'I do wish you wouldn't drive so very fast.' Alan Shirley hung on to the door handle as the car rounded a bend, on all four wheels, but requiring every inch of road space. 'You can't tell when you'll run into a patch of ice.'

You don't understa
nd,' Nancy Connaught muttered, ‘
how urgent it is.'

'I understand that you have been made into just about the biggest Patsy this side of the Iron Curtain.'

'Oh, balls to that. Big ruptured balls. Light me
a
cigarette.'

Shirley obliged, smoked one himself, watched the road racing away in front of them. 'And if you can't see that, darling, then maybe you
are
in love with the lad.'

'Just as you are jealous of him.'

'Not of him. I wouldn't be in his shoes for
a
million pounds. But I'm jealous of your feelings for him. I wish I could understand what you see in him.'

Nancy's fingers were tight on the wheel. 'A million and one things you couldn't ever understand, Al.'

'Try me.'

'Like his having everything going for him, on the surface. You know, he's big and strong and tough-looking. He
is
tough, physically, as
a
matter of fact. And he's intelligent, as well. And yet he's just a molten ball of fire, underneath. He watched his mother murdered by the Germans. I mean, really nastily. He used to dream of her, see her all over the place.'

'These things do happen, darling, when there's
a
war. Maybe one day you people will find that out.'

'And you think that makes it any the less horrible?'

You can't love everyone who was ever involved.'

'There's more to it than that. Things it's more difficult to talk about.'

'Such as sheer animal attraction.'

She glanced at him. 'That too. There has to be that.'

'And the fact that you've been taken for the biggest ride in history can't offset the size of his penis.'

'Be nasty. I haven't been taken for a ride. Not by Alex, anyway. Oh, I've known all along that he doesn't love me. He never made any pretence about that. For some reason of his own he worships that Hungarian tart. But even that is part of his attraction. That girl is everything to him. He's transferred all the affection he should have had for everybody else on to her. So he's an oddball.'

'You can say that again. Anyway, I never said he'd taken you for a ride, Nan. But you can bet your last dollar that Tigran Dus and his pals have every inch of the journey planned, had it planned long before Galitsin set foot in the U.K.'

'Who's Tigran Dus?'

'An old acquaintance of mine. He's a colonel
in the Fourth Bureau. You know, the Russian M.I. He was in England a week ago, left the day before yesterday. I suspect he's masterminding Project Galitsin. Your Alexander was a protege of his when last we met.'

'So why didn't you arrest him? This man Dus, I mean.'

'My dear Nancy, we just don't do that sort of thing. Our business is to try to understand what the Ivans are about, and stick the odd spoke through their wheel.'

'You don't believe that bit about their looking for this fascist female?'

'That could very well be true. Galitsin does have some rather odd connection with Budapest. In which case I'm very inclined to let them get on with it. God knows, I'm no admirer of communism, but it's the characters who are still fighting the last war who're most likely to start the next one. They did both the others, you know. No, I'm more interested in their reasons for blowing the story to the press.'

'My brain's going round and round in circles. So what do you think about it?'

'Well partly, their objective must be to discover just where Galitsin is. They no doubt figured that an article like that would upset you, send you charging down to see him. Which is exactly what it has done. I wish I knew
why
you got upset.'

'Because he
trusts
me!' she shouted.

'Silly boy. Because you're working on Dus's side right now, even if you don't know it. Take a look.'

Nancy glanced in her driving mirror, frowned. 'So what am I supposed to see?'

'The Austin Princess, th
ree back, has been there an aw
fully long time. Ever since we left London. Oh, they may just be going down to the south coast for
a
day on the beach. People do, in January.'

Nancy Connaught sucked her lower lip in between her teeth. 'So what are you going to do about it?'

'Me?'

"You are going to give Alex protection, aren't you?'. "Now we've agreed to grant him asylum, that's the least we can do.'

'So he's
a
guest of the British Government You have
a
gun, I suppose?'

'What an irrational child you are. I handed my gun back when I left the army. Very gratefully.'

Nancy took another bend, skidded round
a
corner, raced down another lane, anxiously watching the mirror. 'Oh, damnation, you're right,' she muttered, as the big Austin appeared on the road behind them. 'All What are we going to do?'

'Keep driving, for
a
while. Because here in England’
Shirley said with amused pomposity, 'there is a remedy for all these evils of twentieth-century society, which only we British still seem to make use of.'

'Oh, for God's sake, talk English. Or, at least, intelligible American.'

‘I
was merely suggesting that we do not stop until we sight a policeman, and as
a
matter of fact I have just done so. There's always one around, even in the wilds of Dorset, if you look long enough.'

The Pontiac stopped with a squealing of brakes, spun half round, straightened again, and came to rest beside the road, close to the police constable, who had hastily got off his bicycle.

'That is certainly the ea
sy way to attract his attention’
Shirley murmured.

The policeman laid his bicycle on the grass, came towards them, removing his notebook from his breast pocket. "Driving a bit fast, weren't you, miss, for this time of year? It's a narrow road.'

'Well, you see .. .' Nancy gave Shirley a helpless glance. The Austin Princess slowed alongside them, and then drove past.

'May I see your driving licence, miss?'

·I haven't got one. I mean, I haven't got it with me. It's in London.'

'Ah! Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to make
a
note of your name and number, miss, and ask you to produce both your licence and your insurance certificate at the station in Bridport within the next week, if you don't mind.'

'She'll do that, Constable.' Shirley opened his wallet 'As
a
matter of fact, we'd like your assistance.'

The policeman looked at the card, frowned, and pulled his ear. 'Well, of course, sir, anything I can do to help the government.' He peered at Shirley. 'Lost
a
spy, have you?' He asked with heavy humour.

You couldn't possibly be more accurate,' Shirley said. 'And that carload of Ivans who just passed us are becoming
a
nuisance. Would you care to take
a
drive with us? Just as far as Lyme Regis.'

'Well, sir, I don't know. There's my bike.'

'The only good thing about American cars is that they have room for bicycles.'

'Yes, sir. The trouble is, I'm on beat duty, you see ...'

'We'll have you there and back in half an hour,' Nancy said. 'It really is most terribly urgent. A man's life could be at stake.'

'Well, of course, miss, if it's to prevent
a
crime.' He placed his bicycle in the back, sat beside Shirley in the front. Nancy took her foot off the brake, and they skidded round the next corner. The Princess was stopped by the side of the road, and the driver was peering under the hood.

'I know that man,' Nancy said. 'The one in the back seat. He was with Alex at Hastings.'

'His name is Michael Rauser. We meet at the odd cocktail party.'

'For God's sake,' she muttered.

'Perhaps, sir, you'd be good enough to tell me what this is all about,' said the policeman.

Shirley took a newspaper from the glove compartment. 'Read about it. We're trying to get to Galitsin before anybody else does, or before he reads that story. I say, aren't we about there?'

'Just around the corner.' Nancy slowed, pulled into the driveway, stopped. The cottage stared at them.

'And this Galitsin character is here?' the policeman asked.

'I hope so. God, I hope so.' She ran to the front door. 'Locked!' She fumbled for her key.

'Shouldn't it be locked?' Shirley asked.

'Of course it should be locked.' She looked over her shoulder, watched the Austin cruise past. 'What'll they do now?'

'Nothing. They've found out all they wish to know.'

'You're sure they won't try to snatch him or anything?'

‘Not with this gentl
eman along,' Shirley said.

'Good heavens, no, miss,' said the policeman. 'I mean to say, that would be breaking the law, wouldn't it? Assaulting a police officer is a very serious crime.'

'Oh! Oh, yes, I never thought of that' The k
ey turned, the door opened, and
she ran inside. 'Alex! Alex! Try the kitchen.' She ran upstairs, her heart pounding, her stomach filled with lead. There is an unmistakable aura about an empty house. She stood in front of the canvas, touched the paint, looked at the blue on her finger. She went to the top of the stairs. The policeman remained in the doorway, his thumbs hooked into his breast pockets. Shirley came out of the kitchen, carrying two empty whisky bottles.

'Any luck?'

'He's not here,' she said. 'But he's only just left. The paint upstairs is still wet' 'Paint?'

'He was trying to paint something.'

Shirley clinked the bottles. 'That isn't all he was trying to do. You've been teaching our Ivan bad habits.'

'So he's been hitting the bottle. He has
a
lot on his mind. Trouble is, he's not used to the really hard stuff; that vodka they knock back is only about forty-seven proof. And look, his coat and cap have gone.'

'Well, he'd need them, wouldn't he miss,' the policeman said. 'If he was taking
a
walk.'

'But why should he take
a
walk? I asked him not to leave th
e house. They've got him, Alan.’

'Then why follow us? Anyway, wherever he's gone, he left of his own accord. There's no sign of
a
struggle.'

'He was persuaded. God knows, it wouldn't be difficult He was so mixed up. Or he might just have got tired of sitting here by himself. Oh God, why did I leave him? And there isn't even a note, or anything.'

'Only suicides leave notes,' Shirley said. 'I think it's far more likely that he just got fed up with sitting around, as you say, and walked out. With a hell of a lot on his mind, and right in the middle of a monumental bender. Question is, what is he likely to do now?'