For the Good of the State dda-16, page 7
part #16 of Dr David Audley Series
‘All right, all right!’ The features twisted again, and then Audley showed his teeth like an old wolf. ‘You think he’ll try a second shot?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tom shifted his position slightly, to get a view of the terrace and the house. The well-head offered secure protection not far away. But where could he go after that?
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘Aren’t you supposed to be the expert?’ Audley had his second wind now.
‘I don’t know where he fired from.’ Tom estimated the distance from the well to the French windows (but they might be locked)…
and then to the archway leading to the kitchen passage (but that was too far for safety). ‘You were looking down the garden, weren’t you?’
‘I was looking at you, actually. You were telling me how you were going to protect me, as I recall—’ Audley stopped abruptly. ‘I’m sorry! I’m not in practice for this sort of game, Tom Arkenshaw—
forgive me!’
Tom concentrated on the damaged French window. There were two steps up to it, from the terrace, and the bullet had struck high up, at the exact junction of four small lead-lights, driving the lead inwards and cracking others below them. So—
‘A long shot,’ said Audley. ‘It was a long shot.’
‘How do you know?’ But he was almost certainly right, thought Tom. ‘Or are you trying to reassure me?’
‘I’m trying to reassure myself, more like! I don’t know—’ Audley checked himself again, but only for a fraction of a second. ‘ Stop there! Not another step, Cathy! ’
Tom shifted his gaze from the smashed window, and saw half of what Audley had seen from where he lay, which was framed in the arch.
‘But, Father—’
‘Not another step—understand?’ Audley’s voice steadied. ‘Do you Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State hear me?’
‘I hear you, Father.’ The visible part of the tea-tray quivered. ‘But I don’t understand you. Is there something— ’ The tray lurched slightly ‘—Father… what on earth are you doing?’
‘Where’s your mother?’ The man’s voice was almost conversational now. ‘Not another step—remember? And I mean that. Where’s Mummy?’
‘She’s shutting the windows,’ Cathy snapped back irritably. ‘To keep out your smoke, Father… And I think she’s just broken the one that sticks, in the little bedroom— I heard the glass go… So she’s not going to be very pleased with you, because she’s been asking you for ages to make it easier to close.’ She paused only for an instant. ‘Is there something I can’t see, that I’m about to step on? Because this tray weighs a ton!’
‘Go—’ Audley choked slightly on the word, and Tom sympathized with him as he cleared his throat ‘—go back to the kitchen.
Don’t…’ He trailed off, as though he was thinking again, and drew a deep breath. ‘Someone’s just taken a shot at us, love—from somewhere up on the hillside. What you heard was the bullet hitting the window— okay?’
For a moment of disbelief the tray was steady as a rock. ‘Yes, Father?’ Then it trembled. ‘Now?’
‘Wait!’
Tom stared at Audley, aware irrelevantly that he could now smell the bonfire against which Faith Audley was closing her windows.
‘There’s my good girl!’ said Audley softly. ‘Go back and find your Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State mother. Keep away from the windows. Find her… and say to her
“Limejuice”—“Limejuice”— got that?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Repeat it—’ Audley held his voice so unnaturally steady that the steadiness somehow emphasized his urgency ‘—repeat it, love, please.’
‘ “Limejuice”.’ Cathy sounded slightly offended. ‘ “Limejuice”, Father.’
‘Jolly good!’ The false encouragement sounded equally unnatural.
‘Off you go then, love.’
But that wouldn’t do for Cathy Audley—Tom wanted to shake his head at the man, but he was staring too fixedly at the archway.
The edge of the tray stayed in view. ‘But… but…’
‘Off you go!’ Then Audley looked at Tom, and understood the limits of obedience belatedly. ‘I’ve got Tom Arkenshaw here to protect me, Cathy love—that’s what he’s here for.’ He grinned hideously at Tom. ‘Isn’t that so, Sir Thomas—?’
Tom smelt the bonfire again, and thought that he would never smell a bonfire in the future—if there was a future—without smelling his own inadequacy. ‘That’s right, Miss Audley,’ he agreed.
‘ What’s this?’ Another voice from somewhere behind the child startled him just as the tray, and that part of her which he could see, disappeared. ‘Have you broken something, Cathy—?’
‘ “Limejuice”, Mummy—’ The child cut through her mother’s angry question ‘—Father says “Limejuice” !’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Tom strained his ears to catch the woman’s reaction, but there was only a moment’s silence hemmed in between the wall and the house, against the distant drone of a faraway aircraft. Then there came a clink of teacups on the tray followed by the sound of the back door closing. So… whatever it meant exactly, that codeword, it was a Word of Power—and Audley was blessed with intelligently obedient womenfolk, young and old, when matters came to their crunch.
‘As I was saying… I don’t know.’ Audley attended to him again.
‘But. . he missed, anyway.’
Tom felt the hardness of the flagstone under his hipbone. ‘You also said that he fired from somewhere on the hillside.’
‘So I did.’ Audley sounded curiously relaxed now. ‘Because from the bottom of the garden he couldn’t have missed —I also made that assumption.’
Tom frowned at him, trying to remember the bottom of the garden.
There had been a hedge—? He couldn’t remember, damn it!
‘It’s a bare hundred yards.’ Audley shook his head. ‘I think the bullet went just over my head, maybe a bit to one side… It’s a long time since I’ve had that disagreeable sensation—or I suppose it could be called “agreeable”, relatively speaking… But then, again, I wouldn’t have imagined that I heard it if it hadn’t missed, would I?’
How could he be so damned cold-blooded? thought Tom irritably.
“Thirty-nine years, to be exact.‘ Audley’s eyes glazed at the memory. ’And I was also sniped at several times in Normandy, the Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State year before—Jerry loved to pick off silly fools who poked their heads out of their tanks… But, of course, I never heard a bloody thing— no— there was one time…‘ He focused on Tom, and dropped the rest of the irrelevant anecdote instantly. ’About a hundred yards, the end of the garden, anyway. So if he had a Brown Bess, and this was Waterloo, that’s about what I’d expect.
Because the French skirmishers shot at Mercer in front of his battery for about half an hour—and from considerably less than a hundred yards, too—also without hitting him.‘ He nodded at Tom, as though childishly pleased with himself at the thought. ’ ”So long as they were aiming at me I wasn’t worried“—didn’t he say something like that?‘
Tom smelt bonfire again. And now there was a wisp of smoke to go with the smell. But, much more confusing, was the thought that any competent marksman, let alone a professional, could have missed anything, at any practical range, with a modern rifle; or…
had Audley moved— or had he himself moved— at that precise instant, when the finger had squeezed so gently—?
‘You said… from the hillside?’ Tom felt his anger well up. ‘And bugger Waterloo!’
‘Yes—quite right!’ Audley mistook anger for urgency. ‘My dear boy—I’m only talking because I’m shit-scared—I’m sorry! You may be used to this sort of thing, from the Lebanon, or wherever…’ Audley closed his eyes and screwed up his face. ‘Im only trying to reassure myself… that he isn’t coming down the garden right now, to spit in my eye, for God’s sake!’ He kept his eyes closed. ‘But… there’s a track up the hillside—it goes Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State diagonally from left to right, with bushes on the outer edge for cover… And that would give him a nice clear long shot on to this terrace… God only knows the distance, downhill—more than a quarter of a mile, but less than half, so say about six hundred yards.’ He opened his eyes again. ‘Easy access from the road down the bottom—quick getaway. The bugger must be kicking himself now, missing at that range, whether he’s still there or not—eh?’ He watched Tom. ‘But how long do we wait for him to get cold feet?
Until I get rheumatism?’
‘No.’ At that range the man shouldn’t have missed, thought Tom.
But he certainly wouldn’t miss twice, if he got a clear shot.
A clear shot! he thought suddenly, staring upwards.
‘No,’ he murmured, twisting himself off his hip on to all fours.
‘So what—’ Audley’s mouth opened as Tom raised his head above the parapet ‘—for God’s sake, man! Get down!’
Tom studied the view gratefully. If there was a hedge at the bottom of the garden he couldn’t see it, never mind the hillside beyond.
What had deceived him had been Faith Audley’s estimation of the direction of the wind: it wasn’t blowing directly towards the house, but more diagonally, so that they were only on the edge of the thick clouds of smoke which were now billowing from the orchard across the lawn.
He got to his feet. ‘Your wife said you were good with bonfires.’
He grinned happily down at the big man. ‘I can see that she was right.’
Audley stared at him for a moment, then raised himself quickly.
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘Ouch!’ He rubbed his hip fiercely. ‘Damned old bones!’ Then he considered his handiwork. ‘Ye-ess… I’d forgotten about that.’ He nodded at Tom. “That’ll be the damp stuff on the top catching—
smoke… The trick is to get the driest material underneath, with an access for air to windward—that makes for a hot heart, and then you can burn anything if you’ve graded it properly. But you must get the ash straight on the flower beds, when it’s properly cooled, and before it has a chance to rain—it’s useless once it’s been rained on, you know.‘ He climbed stiffly to his feet, to tower over Tom.
‘Is that so?’ said Tom politely.
‘Yes. The rain washes out the potash.’ Then Audley gestured towards the archway. ‘Do you think it might be advisable to run like hell now, while we can? Before I exhibit unbecoming twitches of fear—?’ He started to move before Tom could reply. ‘In fact, I think I’ll lead the way, just in case you’ve forgotten it.’
Tom followed him back into the kitchen passage, and watched him lock the back door and shoot a massive iron bolt.
‘There now!’ Audley turned to him. ‘I observe that you are unarmed. But I take it that you have your armament in your car?’
‘As a matter of fact… no, Dr Audley.’
‘What?’ Audley started to move again. ‘But I thought you fellows were all armed to the teeth—’ He flung the words over his shoulder ‘—apart from which, I had the impression that you said that you had come to babysit me—?’
‘Yes—’ Tom had to trot to keep up with him as they reached the Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State kitchen ‘—but we weren’t expecting—’
‘Not expecting?’ Audley cut him off as he prised a 12-bore shotgun off two wooden pegs on the wall above the fireplace.
‘Now where the hell are the cartridges—?’ He frowned around the enormous kitchen.
‘They’re on the table,’ said Tom, pointing.
‘Ah!’ Audley broke the 12-bore and loaded it. ‘That comes of having a good wife, by God! Not that she isn’t going to give me hell for this!’ He snapped the gun together. ‘Not expecting? I thought that was what girls say, whose mothers didn’t teach them the facts of life, Sir Thomas Arkenshaw.’ He thrust the gun into Tom’s hands. ‘Here—you take it—you’re the ruddy expert! And your reflexes are evidently better than mine. And so they should be.’ He waited while Tom examined the weapon. ‘Do you think he’ll have another try?’
It was no good saying that he didn’t know, so Tom shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. But if he’s stupid enough to miss, then perhaps he’s stupid enough to try.’ But first things first. ‘I don’t want to wait for him on the ground floor, anyway.’ He looked around. ‘And… where’s your wife—and your daughter?’
‘You don’t need to worry about them.’
‘I’ll be the judge of what I’ll worry about, Dr Audley. Where are they?’
“They’re safe. That’s all you need to know.‘ Audley made an obstinate face. ’This is an old house. It’s got nooks and crannies in it that it would take you hours to find. You let me worry about their Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State safety, Tom Arkenshaw—you just worry about me. Because that’s who I’m worried for.‘
So that was what ‘Limejuice’ had signified— Take cover!— thought Tom. And that was why Audley had relaxed once the family codeword had been transmitted, and his family was safe. ‘Very well, Dr Audley. Then I want to get you one floor up. And I want some back-up before I get you away from here. So I need to make a phone-call.’
Audley shook his head. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, either. Faith will have made that call. That’s the first half of Limejuice—she knows what to do.’ He pointed towards the door through which they had first entered the kitchen. ‘I’ll lead the way
—’
‘No.’ Tom pushed past him. ‘Which way at the top of the stairs?’
‘Right.’ Audley nodded submissively. ‘The door at the end of the landing is the one you want.’
‘Close all the doors behind you as you go.’
‘Okay—I know the rules.’ Suddenly there was a note of weariness in Audley’s voice which made Tom pause. The man might know the rules, but it was probably a long time since he had had to apply them, so there were allowances which had to be made. Indeed, he had said as much— I’m not in practice for this sort of game‘, he had admitted.
He grinned at the big man—big old man, was what he had to remind himself: considering that the last time Audley had been shot at (or the last time he was admitting to it, anyway) had been Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State before he, Tom, had been born… and considering also that the man had now just been shot at with his family around him and his garden bonfire smouldering peacefully—considering all of that…
he could have been a lot more troublesome. ‘It’s just a precaution, Dr Audley,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Almost certainly quite unnecessary. Because I think he’s long gone. I wouldn’t have put my head up if I’d thought otherwise.’
‘Aye.’ Audley gave him an old-fashioned look, as though he understood exactly what Tom was doing. ‘And you’d never be able to face your dear mother if you’d lost me, would you?’ Then his expression hardened. ‘So let’s get on with your unnecessary precautions, shall we?’
The old house was wrapped in stillness ahead of him, so that every sound he made echoed for an instant and was then extinguished as the silence damped it down. But at least that made their passage easier, the more so since the man at his back really did remember the rules, standing still whenever he stopped, and moving again only when he signalled, until they reached the room at the end of the landing.
Suddenly the carpet was thick underfoot, after the stone flags of the ground floor, which had seemed to have the whole world under them, and then the solid oak of staircase and landing, with only the occasional rug from Bokhara or Tabriz which (with everything else around him) had served to remind him that Audley did not depend on his pay for his lifestyle.
This was the master bedroom, with a duvet-covered bed tailored to Audley’s size and the loneliness of the long-distance runner before Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State finding any other occupant. But, more importantly, there were windows on three sides of it, with views of front and back.
‘Wait!’ Audley’s voice had recovered its note of command during their journey.
Tom watched him fumble beside the bed, observing his bedtime reading at the same time with a sense of unreality: on the oak table in the hall below there had been the whole morning’s take of newspapers, from the Sun to Pravda; but here was Patrick Wormald’s Festschrift for his old tutor, Wallace-Hadrill, of early medieval fame; and Ideal and Reality in Frankish and Anglo-Saxon Society somehow weakened his hold on more pressing matters.
‘What are you doing?’ He forced himself to check the terrace first, through an arrow-slit window alongside a very twentieth-century en suite bathroom which had been built into one corner of the vast bedroom.
‘I’m… I’ve just switched on the bloody alarm system—’ Audley straightened up cautiously, as though he well knew how close his head came to the beam directly above him ‘—is what I’ve just done. So now… any exterior visitor will be welcomed with a klaxon loud enough to wake the dead.’
Tom commenced the long walk to the dormer window at the other end of the bedroom. ‘So you’re used to this sort of thing, then?’
‘No—’ Audley followed him with his eyes ‘—no, we damn well are not!’
The sweep of gravel at the front, with his black Rover in the Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State middle of it, was equally empty. But Ideal and Reality in Frankish and Anglo-Saxon Society had hardened Tom’s heart. “Then why such a sophisticated alarm system?‘ He turned back towards Audley, setting the butt of the shotgun on the carpet.
Audley’s face became brutal. ‘There are such people as burglars—
they wear masks and striped jerseys, and have bags over their shoulders labelled “Swag”—don’t you have them in London?’
Audley paused. ‘Or Beirut? Or Athens? Or Cairo and Alexandria and Khartoum?’ Another pause. ‘Or is your brand of security purely political, and not capitalist?’
Tom admired the view from the third side, across open fields in which sheep were busy recycling grass on the edge of the downland ridge for half a long mile, up to a fence beside a road which climbed the ridge. That would be the road which connected with the track… but there was nothing on it now, of course.
