by any means a total evacuation.” Shaw leaned forward earnestly. “There’s just one way to handle this, sir, if I may say so, and that’s to concentrate on getting hold of Ackroyd.”
“You don’t believe that body was Ackroyd’s, then?”
“No, sir, I don’t.” Shaw gave his reasons for this belief, and Staunton grunted his agreement.
Staunton said, “I’m perfectly certain it’s not, sir. I may be working only on hunches, but I’m sure that’s not Ackroyd. I’d bet any money. He wouldn’t be likely to go and do himself in just when he was going to achieve his ambition—and there’s no murder motive. It could be accidental—he could have fallen off Windmill Hill, I suppose, but the injuries don’t bear that out. And as Shaw says, if anyone was after what he knew—well, sir, is it likely they’d kill him?”
“No.” Hammersley took up his pipe, thrust a pipe-cleaner through it. He rubbed-out some tobacco. There was a silence until Shaw repeated, “Well, sir—as I said, we’ve got to find Ackroyd. And something he may have with him.”
The more Shaw thought about that young technician’s theory that Ackroyd had taken away a vital part of AFPU ONE, the more he felt convinced it was right; and now he told the Governor and Staunton about that conversation in the power-house, emphasizing that the recovery of the part could be the key to the whole thing. Shaw could see that this theory had rocked them both, badly. Hammersley undertook to pass the information on to the Flag Officer for immediate notification to the Admiralty, and asked Staunton to order a search for this unidentified object as a matter of extreme urgency in case it was still on the beach or elsewhere in Gibraltar. Then the General, rubbing his knuckles across his eyes in a weary gesture, got up. He turned away to the windows looking out into a shady, tree-lined courtyard. Turning back a few moments later, he asked Shaw: “What about incoming tourists? You think the same ‘noevacuation’ principle should apply—let ’em come in as usual?”
Shaw had a dead feeling inside when Hammersley said that. This was one of those times when he would have given anything in the world not to be an agent, not to possess the knowledge which he did. Probably at this moment Debon-nair was packing in the little Albany Street flat, eyes alight with pleasure at having wangled an assignment so that she could be with Shaw. Chucking into the zip-bag the brief scarlet two-piece which set off her tawny colouring so well, looking forward to lazy afternoons at Rosia, lying in the caressing Mediterranean sun.
Shaw swallowed hard.
A few reassuring words to the Governor, an attempt to persuade H.E. that entries of tourists and businessmen could be stopped on some legitimate excuse, might do the trick; might so very easily protect a life that meant everything to Shaw. It would be utterly wrong, of course, to take advantage of his position in this way, utterly wrong too to hide his wrong advice behind the protection of the Governor, the man who would have actually to issue the order. Shaw didn’t need to think for long, but it was in an agony of the spirit that he said, so heavily:
“I think the same principle should apply, sir, yes. Let them come in as usual—don’t disturb the ordinary routines in any direction at all, anyway for the time being. If you put the stopper on visitors you’d have the tourist agencies howling their heads off in righteous indignation and demanding inquiries and so on. My advice would be—sit tight and do absolutely nothing just yet. That will make the job of finding Ackroyd the easier. I know it’s a lot to ask—but I’d like it left to me for a bit.” Shaw hesitated. “And I’d be grateful if you’d let it be widely known that the body that’s been found is definitely that of Mr Ackroyd .”
Both men stared at him.
Staunton said angrily, “But look here! That body isn’t Ackroyd’s. I’m absolutely positive
“You don’t believe that body was Ackroyd’s, then?”
“No, sir, I don’t.” Shaw gave his reasons for this belief, and Staunton grunted his agreement.
Staunton said, “I’m perfectly certain it’s not, sir. I may be working only on hunches, but I’m sure that’s not Ackroyd. I’d bet any money. He wouldn’t be likely to go and do himself in just when he was going to achieve his ambition—and there’s no murder motive. It could be accidental—he could have fallen off Windmill Hill, I suppose, but the injuries don’t bear that out. And as Shaw says, if anyone was after what he knew—well, sir, is it likely they’d kill him?”
“No.” Hammersley took up his pipe, thrust a pipe-cleaner through it. He rubbed-out some tobacco. There was a silence until Shaw repeated, “Well, sir—as I said, we’ve got to find Ackroyd. And something he may have with him.”
The more Shaw thought about that young technician’s theory that Ackroyd had taken away a vital part of AFPU ONE, the more he felt convinced it was right; and now he told the Governor and Staunton about that conversation in the power-house, emphasizing that the recovery of the part could be the key to the whole thing. Shaw could see that this theory had rocked them both, badly. Hammersley undertook to pass the information on to the Flag Officer for immediate notification to the Admiralty, and asked Staunton to order a search for this unidentified object as a matter of extreme urgency in case it was still on the beach or elsewhere in Gibraltar. Then the General, rubbing his knuckles across his eyes in a weary gesture, got up. He turned away to the windows looking out into a shady, tree-lined courtyard. Turning back a few moments later, he asked Shaw: “What about incoming tourists? You think the same ‘noevacuation’ principle should apply—let ’em come in as usual?”
Shaw had a dead feeling inside when Hammersley said that. This was one of those times when he would have given anything in the world not to be an agent, not to possess the knowledge which he did. Probably at this moment Debon-nair was packing in the little Albany Street flat, eyes alight with pleasure at having wangled an assignment so that she could be with Shaw. Chucking into the zip-bag the brief scarlet two-piece which set off her tawny colouring so well, looking forward to lazy afternoons at Rosia, lying in the caressing Mediterranean sun.
Shaw swallowed hard.
A few reassuring words to the Governor, an attempt to persuade H.E. that entries of tourists and businessmen could be stopped on some legitimate excuse, might do the trick; might so very easily protect a life that meant everything to Shaw. It would be utterly wrong, of course, to take advantage of his position in this way, utterly wrong too to hide his wrong advice behind the protection of the Governor, the man who would have actually to issue the order. Shaw didn’t need to think for long, but it was in an agony of the spirit that he said, so heavily:
“I think the same principle should apply, sir, yes. Let them come in as usual—don’t disturb the ordinary routines in any direction at all, anyway for the time being. If you put the stopper on visitors you’d have the tourist agencies howling their heads off in righteous indignation and demanding inquiries and so on. My advice would be—sit tight and do absolutely nothing just yet. That will make the job of finding Ackroyd the easier. I know it’s a lot to ask—but I’d like it left to me for a bit.” Shaw hesitated. “And I’d be grateful if you’d let it be widely known that the body that’s been found is definitely that of Mr Ackroyd .”
Both men stared at him.
Staunton said angrily, “But look here! That body isn’t Ackroyd’s. I’m absolutely positive
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