He sighed heavily and disappeared into the bar.
CHAPTERTHREE
LONDON CONFIDENTIAL
theroom was half in shadow, the only light the shaded lamp on the desk. The man who sat sideways in the swivel chair, gazing out through the broad window at the glittering lights of London, was small, the parchment face strangely ageless. It was the face of an extraordinary human being, a man who had known pain and who had succeeded in moving beyond it.
The green intercom on his desk buzzed once and he swung round in the chair and flicked a switch. “Yes?”
“Mr. Ashford is here, Sir Charles.”
“Send him in.”
The door opened soundlessly and Ashford advanced across the thick carpet, a tall, greying man in his forties with the worried face of the professional civil servant who had spent too much of his life close to the seats of power.
He sat down in the chair opposite, opened his briefcase and produced a file which he placed carefully on the desk. Sir Charles pushed a silver cigarette box across to him.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Oh, the P M. agrees with you entirely. The whole thing must be investigated. But we don’t want the newspapers get-ting on to it. You’ll have to be damn careful.”
“We usually are,” Sir Charles said frostily.
“There’s just one thing the P.M. isn’t too happy about.” Ashford opened the file on the desk. “This fellow Mallory. Is he really the best man for the job?”
“More than that,” Sir Charles said. “He’s the best man I’ve got and he’s worked with theDeuxieme Bureau before with some success. In fact, they’ve asked for him twice. His mother was French, of course. They like that.”
“It’s this shocking affair in Perak in 1954 that the P.M. isn’t happy about. Dammit all, the man was lucky to escape prison.”
Sir Charles pulled the file across the desk and turned it round. “This is the record of a quite exceptional officer.” He put on a pair of rimless spectacles and started to read aloud, selecting items at random. ” Special Air Service during the war… dropped into France three times… betrayed to the Gestapo… survived six months at Sachsenhausen… paratroop captain in Palestine… major in Korea… two years in a Chinese prison camp in Manchuria… released 1953… posted to Malaya, January 1954, on special service.. He closed the file and looked up. “A lieutenant-colonel at thirty. Probably the youngest in the army at that time.”
“And kicked-out at thirty-one,” Ashford countered.
Sir Charles shrugged. “He was told to clear the last Com-munist guerrilla out of Perak and he did it. A little ruthlessly perhaps, but he did it. His superiors then heaved a sigh of relief and threw him to the wolves.”
“And you were waiting to catch him, I suppose?”
Sir Charles shook his head. “I let him drift for a year. Bombay, Alexandria, Algiers. I knew where he was. When I was satisfied that the iron was finally in his soul I pulled him in. He’s worked for me ever since.”
Ashford sighed and got to his feet. “Have it your own way, but if anything goes wrong…”
Sir Charles smiled softly. “I know, I end up like Neil Mal-lory. Out on my ear.”
Ashford flushed, turned and crossed the room quickly. The door closed behind him and Sir Charles sat there think-ing about it all. After a while he flicked a switch on the intercom.
“Send in Mallory.”
He lit a cigarette and stood by the window, gazing out over the city, still the greatest in the world, whatever anyone tried to say. When he opened the window he could smell the river and the sound from a ship’s hooter drifted faintly on the quiet air as it moved down from the Pool.
He was tired and there was a slight ache somewhere behind his right eye. Something he should really see his doctor about. On the other hand, perhaps it was better not to know? He wondered whether Mallory would survive long enough to ever take his place behind the desk in this quiet room. It would have been a comforting thought, but he knew it was rather unlikely.
The door clicked open behind him and closed again. When he turned Mallory was standing beside the desk. An easy-fitting suit of dark worsted outlined his broad shoulders and in the diffused white light his aquiline face gave an impression of strength and breeding, not out of place any-where.