Empton dropped the newspaper on the desk, walked round the desk, sat down on the edge of it. He took out his cigarette case, took from it a yellow cigarette, looked at the cigarette for a moment, rolled it between his lips, flicked a light for it, sucked. He looked at the angle of the wall and the ceiling.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Men at work.’
He sucked in air along with the smoke and forced the smoke through his nostrils.
‘And you’ve got it all tied up,’ he said. ‘Ready to hit me over the head with it. You ring for Joe to open the tin, then shunt him off back to stores.’ He sucked hard. ‘Congratulations. Nice timing and all that. Trusting I gave every satisfaction, must hurry away to other clients.’
‘Jan,’ Gently said. ‘You can go.’
‘Yes, you can go, Jan,’ Empton said. ‘We’ll give you a ring if your alibi’s faked. Slide. Shove off. Blow. Fade.’
‘Unless Superintendent Empton has any questions,’ Gently said.
‘Oh, laughable,’ Empton said. ‘Run along Jan. Sling your hook, Jan. Love and kisses to Mr Razek.’
Kasimir rose, hesitated. ‘I will answer the questions,’ he said.
‘Dear boy,’ Empton said. ‘Remind me to send you a card at Christmas.’
Kasimir gave his little shrug, picked up his possessions from the desk. His lips were puffed, his face bruised. He held his back very stiffly. To Gently he said:
‘I have Flat 5 A, 22 Bonser Street, West Hampstead. My alibi is not a fake. You will find me there if you want me again.’
‘Leave me your handkerchief,’ Empton said.
Kasimir bowed. He went out.
Nobody said anything for a little while. Empton sucked and exhaled noisily. Whitaker fiddled with a pen-stand on the desk. Gently sat and did nothing. At last Empton ground out the cigarette.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘So I’m a bastard.’ He turned about to look at the two of them. ‘But I’m a good bastard, in my line. It’s a bastard line, let’s face it. You don’t kid-glove in MI5. And I’m a royal bastard in a nest of bastards. And that’s my job. And the country pays me. So knock me down, point to the kennel. But remember who it was made Kasimir talk.’
Whitaker stirred. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
Empton’s teeth showed. ‘Why not, old man? Don’t you know that Rule Britannia stinks outside the last night of the proms? We’re a dirty lot at a dirty game, and so we pay dirty people like me. Sorry if the cloven hoof shows. We try to hide it from the taxpayer.’
‘And you like your job?’ Whitaker said.
Empton kept on smiling. ‘I’m a natural bastard, old man,’ he said. ‘You can’t do without me until the millennium.’
Whitaker dropped his eyes to the pen-stand, shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he repeated.
‘But you do, of course,’ Empton said. ‘Of course you do. Of course. Of course.’
‘It’s beyond me,’ Whitaker said.
Empton chuckled. He looked pleased again.
He said to Gently: ‘Can we get to business, and waste a little more of my time? It’s faintly possible that there’s still an angle which belongs to my department.’
‘That’s not improbable,’ Gently said.
‘You amaze me, old man,’ Empton said.
Gently shrugged. ‘Like you,’ he said. ‘I’d be interested to know who Teodowicz was.’
‘Who he was?’
Gently nodded. ‘It’s just an idea that came into my head. And what links he had with Huxford. And the Poles who used to be there.’
Empton widened his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This sounds amusing. Run over the details for me, old man. I may not be quite expended yet.’
Gently told him the details. Empton listened without questions. He sat on the desk looking straight at Gently, quite still, never moving his head. Gently looked at him occasionally. Empton’s stare never shifted. Whitaker had pulled a little aside, was twiddling his fingers, frowning at them. Gently finished.
‘Yes… I see,’ Empton said. ‘It fits together like a Swiss watch. Mysterious calls, the missing gun, the van parked by a main-line station. But don’t you think it stinks a little, old man?’
‘I’m open to reactions,’ Gently said.
‘My name is mud,’ Empton said, ‘but I can’t help twigging a faint aroma. You look for the gun. You go to the nearest aerodrome. Immediately everything is falling into place. Your chummie is pin-pointed, motive, opportunity, nothing is left to the imagination. Oh, I’m a Special Branch man, I see a bogey in every bush. But in my doubtful opinion there is a definite pong.’
‘Well,’ Gently said.
‘A pong of contrivance,’ Empton said. ‘The sort of contrivance one might expect from some thoroughgoing professionals. The sort of people with devious minds who like to tuck in the loose ends, who take a pride in their craft. People like me, in fact.’ The teeth appeared. ‘Another small point. Weren’t you surprised by Kasimir’s ineptness? How easy it was for you to spot him, and how excruciatingly innocent he was? He was bloody amateurish, old man, he was staked out for our inspection. We’re supposed to think that Razek knows nothing and is quite upset about poor Teodowicz. Meanwhile, lo and behold! a chummie. A chummie framed up to his eyeballs.’
‘It could be,’ Gently said.
‘A pity I’ve lost my credit,’ Empton said.
Gently was silent, then he said: ‘In your opinion, what was behind it?’
‘Half a compliment,’ Empton said. ‘I think Teodowicz was important. I’ve held that opinion all along. He was some kind of a big wheel.’
‘What sort of a big wheel?’
‘Perhaps an organizer,’ Empton said. ‘A man who directed other agents and acted as a clearing house for their reports. You noticed how his documents were destroyed? That would scarcely have happened to mere account sheets. But there could have been other stuff amongst them, perhaps micro-printed or in code. And remember his freedom to travel about. I think he was a man in Razek’s position.’
‘Then why would they kill him?’
‘Simple, old man. They found they couldn’t trust him any longer. If he were only an agent they could have shopped him or used him for dropping duff info, but there’s only one way with a big wheel. He knows too much. You have to kill him. And when you kill him,’ Empton said, ‘you have to kill his smell along with him. So you lay on a scapegoat, like this Sawney, and expend a pawn, like little Jan. There’s the pattern. It adds up nicely. Razek is one of their top men.’
‘Hmn,’ Gently said. ‘It skips a few factors.’
Empton’s teeth showed. ‘Naturally, old man. I don’t have the acumen of a homicide brass, I have to lean on my pitiful experience. Have you an alternative view to air?’
Gently shook his head. ‘I’ll agree with you so far. There’s something too slick about the case against Sawney, though I don’t have my finger on it yet.’
‘But nothing political. Of course.’
‘I don’t,’ Gently said, ‘rule it out. But there is nothing pointing that way at the moment. Except the way one interprets the facts.’
Empton laughed, rose from the desk. ‘So bracing,’ he said, ‘these departmental conferences. But I think I’ll follow my own ideas, crude and fantastic though they are. I’m going to poach in your covert, old man, I’m going to have a snout round Huxford. There may be some evidence gone begging there which only a fanatic like me would appreciate. You’ve no objection I suppose, old man?’
‘None, old man,’ Gently said.
‘English justice,’ Empton said. He crossed to the door, went out.
Whitaker pushed the pen-stand away from him, sprawled a little in his chair. He stuck clasped hands under his chin, looked at the closed door vacantly. He shook his head once.
‘Extraordinary type. Extraordinary,’ he said.
Gently shrugged.
‘No, but really,’ Whitaker said. ‘Do they have many like him in Whitehall?’
Afternoon, Friday August 16th. Dust hanging in the tired hedges. The hot breath of heavy vehicles tossing the paper rubbish along the verge. The sun high, molten, stingy. The sky hard except at the edges. Mirages winking in the hollows of the road. Air shimmering over the dark tarmac. Tiny wind-devils, whirling straws and dust, springing up suddenly in the parched fields. The towers of Bintly, marching, marching. The air dead, the air pressing. Tyres wearing on the greasy road. More tyres. More tyres. Northing and southing along the earth. As she dances about the sun.
Gently came to The Raven.
The notice on the door said CLOSED and the curtains in the parlour windows were drawn. No sound came from the building. The park was empty of vehicles. He slammed the door of the 105, went over, knocked, stood listening. The knock had a slight echo. No sound followed the knock. He walked a few paces from the door, peered into one of the uncurtained windows; walked to the end of the long stroke, stared round it into the yard, the unkempt garden. A black-and-white kitten lay asleep in the garden. The kitten woke up, ran across to him, purred. He tickled the kitten behind the ears. The kitten left him. He returned to the park. As he turned the corner a curtain moved and he went straight to the door and knocked again. This time he heard soft movements. The door was unbolted and opened by Wanda. She was wearing a green raincoat which she was holding closed. She looked at him. She had no expression.
‘You want to come in?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘I hope it’s convenient.’
‘I haven’t got a man here’, Wanda said, ‘if that’s what you mean, and I presume it is. I was lying down, you woke me up. You can come in, I don’t care.’
She stood back. Gently entered. She closed and bolted the door again. She stopped holding the raincoat closed. It fell open. She was naked under it.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘I’ll just look through the place.’
He walked swiftly through the kitchen, through the toilets, to the back door. It was bolted. He opened it. The garden, the field showed empty. The kitten had gone back to sleep again, didn’t cock its head at the sound of the door. He closed and re-bolted it. He returned quickly to the front door. He lifted the curtain and looked out. The 105 stood quietly shimmering.
‘Satisfied?’ Wanda said. ‘If I had a bloke here I’d show him. I’d like to think you were jealous, of course, only you don’t seem the jealous type.’
He said nothing. He went into the parlour, through the parlour into her bedroom. The bed was dishevelled as though it had been lain on. There was a smell of cigarette smoke. He came out, went to the guest lounge, the toilets, the range of twelve bedrooms. Under its tin roof the building was oven hot and sweat was glistening on his face. He returned to the parlour. Wanda had discarded the raincoat. She lay on the studio couch, smoking a cigarette. She too had a shine on her forehead and on her body a film of perspiration. One knee was crooked, a hand trailing. She blew smoke upwards. Her eyes followed the smoke.
‘Am I bothering you?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I am, but I could be wrong. This is my own house and it’s a warm day, you have to take me as you find me.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You don’t bother me.’
‘Perhaps you’d rather I was dressed,’ Wanda said. ‘Perhaps you’d like me in fur or with black suspenders. I don’t mind. I have a wide repertoire.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Gently said.
‘Yes, I have,’ Wanda said. ‘Don’t waste your talent for sarcasm, I know my business, I take a pride in it. Every man is a little different, wants a special twist to make him happy. I like to find out the twist. I’m quite a psychologist in my way.’
‘Who is it smokes in your bedroom?’ Gently said.
‘I smoke in my bedroom,’ Wanda said. ‘Do you find it inhibiting, or something. That’s a new one on me.’
‘I just find it interesting,’ Gently said. ‘There weren’t any ends in the ashtray. And you haven’t any stain on your finger. I don’t think you smoke them much, do you?’
‘Do you want a fag?’ Wanda said.
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘I smoke a pipe.’
‘Of course,’ Wanda said. ‘I like pipe-smokers. A man with a pipe always attracts me.’ She fanned some smoke. ‘There was one bloke I knew who always wanted the radio on. Not in the bedroom, but out here. Did you ever know of a bloke like that? Then there was Pete, he was Irish, it took me a long time to figure him. He liked me to blindfold him with a stocking, but I had to find out, he wouldn’t tell me. Men. There’s no two alike. I could have told Havelock Ellis some new ones. I’m not boring you, by any chance?’
‘You’re not boring me,’ Gently said.
‘I get carried away,’ Wanda said. ‘It’s one of the subjects I never tire of. And men like to talk about it, as a rule, it helps them to shed their inhibitions.’ She sat up, swung her feet to the floor. ‘I’m going into the bedroom,’ she said.
‘Why?’ Gently said.
She shrugged her lean shoulders. ‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘I was never a quitter.’
She rose, went through into the bedroom. Gently hesitated, followed after her. The square bedroom window was closed and curtained and the curtain was yellow and made the room yellowish. She gave a few more puffs to her cigarette and then stubbed it in the tray. She went to the wardrobe and opened the door, stood looking at the clothes inside.
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t dress a little?’ she said. ‘I could bear a girdle, something of that sort.’
‘It would be a waste of time,’ Gently said.
‘I’ve some mink garters.’
He didn’t say anything. He walked across to the inside wall, tapped it, put his shoulder against it. The wall was made of panelled hardboard. He ran his fingers over it. They came away dusty.
‘Positively no deception,’ Wanda said. ‘That backs on the lounge if you want to know. There’s a three-inch air space between the panels, that’s all. No concealed doors.’
‘Thank you for the information,’ Gently said.
‘Oh, no charge,’ Wanda said. ‘But I wish you wouldn’t be so damned professional, even here, in my very bedroom.’
‘I’m here professionally,’ Gently said.
‘We could still be friends,’ she said, ‘while you’re about it. As I said before, I’m not trying to bribe you, you’re welcome to prowl and ask what you like.’
‘Do you take a paper?’ Gently asked.
‘Not The Times. But I take one.’
‘We have a case against Sawney,’ Gently said. ‘If we want to press that case, of course.’
She looked at him. Her eyes were narrowed. ‘Is that supposed to mean something?’ she said. ‘I couldn’t care less what happened to Sawney, your beautiful subtlety is being wasted.’
‘It means we’re not certain that Sawney did it. Though the evidence is stacked against him.’
‘Hurrah for Sawney,’ Wanda said. ‘It’ll make a nice surprise for him when you catch him. Who is the leading suspect now?’
‘Perhaps somebody not very far away.’
‘How exciting,’ Wanda said. ‘No wonder I don’t seem able to hold your attention.’
She closed the door of the wardrobe, came over, stood close beside him.
‘Can’t you forget it for just a moment,’ she said. ‘We can always talk about it some other time.’ She brushed against him, stood firm. ‘It’s so damned hot,’ she said. ‘You look boiled in all those clothes. I shan’t pinch your wallet. Take them off. I’m not boring you?’
Gently shrugged. She moved away from him, sat on the bed. Her shiny face looked up at him. The eyes were smiling. The lips didn’t smile.
‘You remind me of a kid I had here once,’ she said. ‘He was another queer customer. He’d never made any love before. He was stark scared to take his clothes off.’
Gently took the chair and sat on it. She watched him, the eyes still smiling.
‘And Tom,’ she said. ‘There was Tom. He liked me to tie him up with lighting flex. Hand and foot.’ She patted the bed-frame. ‘Then he struggled and groaned all the time. You know about that sort of thing, do you? I should think the police know a good deal about it.’
‘It isn’t my department,’ Gently said. ‘I’m a homicide specialist.’
‘It’s wrong to specialize too much,’ she said. ‘You could be extending your general knowledge. I’m a specialist too, in my way, and my subject isn’t quite so morbid.’
He didn’t say anything, sat quite still, listened to the heavy silence of the building; the silence existing outside the moan of the traffic, which sounded subdued. In the room it was very silent. He could hear the quickness of Wanda’s breathing. Her eyes were narrowing as the pause lengthened. At last she moved, making the springs creak.
‘So I’m a specialist,’ she went on. ‘And this is my laboratory, in here. That’s why it’s a bare little room and why it’s a bare little bed. I want to control all the stimuli when I’m engaged in an experiment, I want to know exactly how they tick. I ought to keep bloody records. What are you thinking about?’
‘Hmn,’ Gently said. ‘I was thinking how quiet it was.’
‘It’s always quiet,’ Wanda said. ‘You don’t hear the traffic after a while. You don’t want the radio on, do you?’
‘No,’ Gently said.
‘Thank heaven for that. One of that type is enough, I don’t want to be stuck with another one.’
She leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin rested on her hands, bringing her face to front his, easing forward to the edge of the bed.
‘Are you married?’ she said.
He shook his head.
‘Got a woman?’
He shook it again.
‘You like me,’ she said. ‘You think I’m a nympho, but you like me. And I am a nympho. I admit that. I’ve got the appetite of the devil. I had a man when I was twelve and I was playing around before that. But that’s all. That’s saying it all. That’s just the way I happen to be. I may be a liar into the bargain, but that’s something you can’t help. I’m nothing else, and you know it. And you like me. Though you won’t play.’
‘Where are you going?’ Gently said.
The eyes didn’t smile. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘You’re going somewhere,’ Gently said. ‘What’s the end going to be?’
‘Don’t get moral,’ Wanda said. ‘My father was a moralist. I’ve heard too much of it. And he finished up in court over a schoolboy, but he was as moral as they come.’
‘I wasn’t being moral,’ Gently said. ‘A policeman sees too much to be moral. I was being practical. You’re planning to leave here. I was asking what the end was to be.’
She breathed harder, looking at him. He could smell the sharpness of her perspiration.
‘Who says I was planning to leave here?’ Her husky voice had a rougher edge on it. Her eyes were wide, challenging, the pupils enlarged by the dim light.
‘Nobody said it,’ Gently said. ‘It’s merely a logical deduction. When the heat is slackened a little you’ll be off. When you think it’s safe to make a move.’
‘What are you saying?’ she said. ‘I’m free to come and go as I please. I don’t know what the devil you think you’ve got on me, but it isn’t true, whatever it is. You can’t touch me.’
Gently nodded. ‘We can limit your movements.’
‘Like hell you can,’ Wanda said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘and we can cordon this place. That will mean nobody coming in, going out, except we check their credentials, and your phone tapped too. And a tail on you. Think what that’s going to mean.’
‘You bloody bastard,’ Wanda said. ‘You think I’ll lie down under police persecution? I’ll get a lawyer, I’ll talk to the press. I’ll tell them you’ve laid me from here to breakfast.’
‘But what’s the end going to be?’ Gently said. ‘Do you even know the next step? You’re right. I like you. I don’t think you’re dirt. But you’ll be over the edge if you run from here.’
She dragged back from him, pulling on her knees. ‘I go where I like, screw,’ she said. ‘I don’t ask anyone what I do, and I don’t want to hear anyone telling me. I’ve had a lot of that from people, from my father, my husband, divorce court judges — men, the whole bloody bag of them! Filthy bastards. Filthy men. Men who invented bloody morals so they could sneer at women they couldn’t get — that’s the long and the short of morals. Have you ever thought about it, screw?’
Gently shrugged. ‘You could be right-’
‘Too true I’m right,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m not dumb. I don’t just take it. I can see through their dirty tricks. If I believed them I’d hang myself for being outside the pale — some bloody sub-creature who shouldn’t breathe. That’s what I’d do with myself. But it’s a lie. A stinking lie. And I’ll ram it back down their throats. To hear a man talk of morals is enough to make an angel puke.’
‘I’m not talking of morals,’ Gently said.
‘You sounded like it,’ Wanda said. ‘And I’m just warning you not to do it, I’ve had all I can take of that sort of thing. Always I’ve had it, right from the start. From men as randy as old toms. You lock your bedroom door on a man and he begins to be moral. You know’, she said, ‘what I think of men? I think of men as bits of stuff. That’s what, bits of stuff. That’s how men rate with me.’
‘That’s your privilege,’ Gently said.
‘Bits of stuff,’ Wanda said. ‘Here and there a decent one, but the rest, bits of stuff.’
Gently said: ‘And because of that you refuse your dues to society.’
‘What dues,’ Wanda said. ‘Society stinks and you know it. Top to bottom it’s all this.’ She made a grasping gesture with her hand. ‘A fat lot of dues I owe society and its paid thugs, like you.’
‘You have protection from it,’ Gently said. ‘The least you can do is pay it back.’
‘I don’t owe it anything,’ Wanda said. ‘It isn’t me who’s in the red.’
‘A man was killed. You might be killed. His killer is loose. So might be your killer. That isn’t morality, it’s the main chance. You want to stop alive, don’t you?’
‘Why should he kill me?’ Wanda said.
‘Because you know too much,’ Gently said. ‘And you’re very vulnerable although you’re so useful. I don’t think you’re intended to leave this place.’
‘You shut up,’ Wanda hissed. ‘I don’t like that kind of talk.’
‘You’re not intended to leave,’ Gently said, ‘because you’re a liability as well as a threat. One can disappear more easily than two, especially when the other one is a woman. Look at it straight. Society stinks. Why are you hoping to be the exception?’
‘Just button your mouth up, you bloody screw!’
‘Why?’ Gently said. ‘Can somebody hear us?’
‘I told you,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t like that kind of talk. It isn’t so clever, scaring a woman.’
‘You went in with your eyes open,’ Gently said. ‘You don’t have any illusions when it comes to men. So I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, you must be conscious of where you stand.’
She jumped up off the bed. ‘And you,’ she said. ‘Are you never scared? When you know such a bloody sight more than is good for you — aren’t you scared of winding up in a ditch?’
He shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to kill me. I’m part of a large organization. But you’re alone. That’s your boast. You don’t wear society’s clothes.’
‘Get out of here,’ Wanda said. ‘I’m tired of listening to you, screw. You don’t kid me, I’m not playing your game, just take yourself out of my house.’
‘You know where you stand,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know that. And society and the lot can go to hell. And you too. I’m not playing.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You’re not a cynic, you’re a romantic,’ he said. He got up. ‘The second one I’ve had to do with today.’
‘Clever, no doubt,’ Wanda said. ‘Next time remember to bring a warrant.’
‘I hope I’ll need it,’ Gently said. ‘This is a very quiet place.’
She flung out of the bedroom. He stood listening. Only the pad of her bare feet. He went after her. She’d got the door open. He paused on the threshold. She eyed him angrily.
‘Put some clothes on,’ he said. ‘You know I’m not trying to kid you.
‘Play the tune somewhere else,’ she said. ‘This is the way I like to be.’
‘Men don’t always fall on the bed.’
Some are bloody eunuchs,’ she said.
‘Not when the hangman is round the corner.’
‘Go to hell,’ Wanda said. ‘Ponce.’
He went out. She slammed the door. He heard the bolt shot, the brush of her feet. The noise of the traffic was suddenly loud, dulling the sensitivity of his ears. He went slowly to the 105, unlocked it, got in, left the door open. The heat inside made his skin prickle and brought out a fresh lacing of sweat. He sat with one leg out of the door. He took his pipe from the stowage, filled and lit it. The traffic kept rolling by, self-intent, pounding trucks, impatient cars. Few of the drivers looked at The Raven. The Raven stood by itself. Tired timber, rusting red roof, untidy park, derelict pumps. By itself under the sun. A few yards away from the Road’s thunder. The windows blind with faded curtains, the notice on the door saying CLOSED. Gently smoked, wiped his face. None of the curtains showed movement. No sound came from the building that could be heard above the traffic. He went on smoking till the tobacco was burned out. Still the silence beside clamour. He knocked out the pipe on his palm, closed the door, pressed the starter.
Going northwards was a Commer truck squarely loaded with wooden crates. The truck was overtaken by two cars, then by the 105, touching the sixties. The sound of the truck vanished behind. About ten seconds later came another sound. It was a persistent rattle which seemed to shake the car and which ended in the shattering of the rear offside-door window. Along with this rattle was a background noise. It sounded like a very fast pneumatic drill. The 105 swerved. There was a thudding patter behind it. Gently went on driving fast, pulled in half a mile down the road. In the driving mirror he saw the Commer following him. It slowed, braked. A man got down.