“There’s the hotel,” the Consul said suddenly, and then, “It’s nothing to do with me, of course. He can put down whoever he wants.” Resentment had become a habit of speech with Sutherland, a philosophy. He spoke as if everything he said were the contradiction of a popular view.
“She’s old,” Avery replied at last. “It’s a question of protecting her from shock. I expect that’s what he had in mind when he filled in his passport application. She’s been ill; a bad heart. She’s had an operation.” It sounded very childish.
“Ah.”
They had reached the outskirts of the town.
“There has to be a postmortem,” Sutherland said. “It’s the law here, I’m afraid, in the case of violent death.”
Leclerc was going to be angry about that. Sutherland continued, “For us, it makes the formalities more complicated. The Criminal Police take over the body until the postmortem is complete. I asked them to be quick, but one can’t insist.”
“Thanks. I thought I’d have the body flown back.” As they turned off the main road into the market square, Avery asked casually, as if he had no personal interest in the outcome, “What about his effects? I’d better take them with me, hadn’t I?”
“I doubt whether the police will hand them over until they’ve the go-ahead from the public prosecutor. The post-mortem report goes to him; he gives clearance. Did your brother leave a will?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“You’d not happen to know whether you’re an executor?”
“No.”
Sutherland gave a dry, patient laugh. “I can’t help feeling you’re a little premature. Next of kin is not quite the same as executor,” he said. “It gives you no legal rights, I’m afraid, apart from the disposal of the body.” He paused, looking back over his seat while he reversed the car into a parking space. “Even if the police hand your brother’s effects over to me, I’m not allowed to release them until I’ve had instructions from the Office, and they” he continued quickly, for Avery was about to interrupt him, “won’t issue such instructions to me until a grant of probate has been made or a Letter of Administration issued. But I can give you a death certificate,” he added consolingly, opening his door, “if the insurance companies require it.” He looked at Avery sideways, as if wondering whether he stood to inherit anything. “It’ll cost you five shillings for the Consular registration and five shillings per certified copy. What was that you said?”
“Nothing.” Together they climbed the steps to the police station.
“We’ll be seeing Inspector Peersen,” Sutherland explained. “He’s quite well disposed. You’ll kindly let me handle him.”
“Of course.”
“He’s been a lot of help with my DBS problems.”
“Your what?”
“Distressed British Subjects. We get one a day in summer. They’re a disgrace. Did your brother drink a lot, incidentally? There’s some suggestion he was—”
“It’s possible,” Avery said. “I hardly knew him in the last few years.” They entered the building.
Leclerc himself was walking carefully up the broad steps of the Ministry. It lay between Whitehall Gardens and the river; the doorway was large and new, surrounded with that kind of fascist statuary which is admired by local authorities. Partly modernized, the building was guarded by sergeants in red sashes and contained two escalators; the one which descended was full, for it was half past five.
“Under Secretary,” Leclerc began diffidently, “I shall have to ask the Minister for another overflight.”
“You’ll be wasting your time,” he replied with satisfaction. “He was most apprehensive about the last one. He’s made a policy decision; there’ll be no more.”
“Even with a target like this?”
“Particularly with a target like this.”
The Under Secretary lightly touched the corners of his in-tray as a bank manager might touch a statement. “You’ll have to think of something else,” he said. “Some other way. Is there no painless method?”
“None. I suppose we could try to stimulate a defection from the area. That’s a lengthy business. Leaflets, propaganda broadcasts, financial inducements. It worked well in the war. We would have to approach a lot of people.”
“It sounds a most improbable notion.”
“Yes. Things are different now.”