picked it up and held it under the Anglepoise lamp. The burnished metal coruscated in the hard artificial light.
‘Just gave it to you, did he?’ said Dawlish. He flung me a fresh packet of Gauloises. ‘Very good. A stroke of luck.’
The phone rang. Alice said she’d run out of coffee, would Nescafé do. It was 6.25 a.m. and Dawlish told her she’d better go home and get some sleep, but she brought it up for us.
‘New cups and saucers, eh Alice,’ I said. Her smile was like a shaft of Christmas-afternoon sunshine. Dawlish handed her the block of metal. It was eight inches by six and about two and a quarter inches thick. The arcs of milling shone as she twisted it in her bony hands.
A large hole was driven through the carbon steel block. Fitting exactly into the hole were three discs. Two of the discs were over an inch thick. Alice shook them into her open palm. The diescarried a fine intaglio design, on one a man on a prancing horse, on the other a portrait of Queen Victoria. Nestling between them was a shiny sovereign.
Alice studied each one carefully, and looked up at me and then at Dawlish.
‘Isn’t it just as I said, Mr Dawlish?’
‘Yes, you were right, Alice,’ said Dawlish. ‘Excellent quality die for forging sovereigns.’
‘But didn’t I tell you that it would have Queen Victoria on it?’ she asked Dawlish.
‘All right, Alice,’ I said, ‘I was wrong, but we aren’t through diving yet.’
Alice trotted off home at 6.45 a.m. and over our coffee Dawlish and I sat down and talked about staff changes and overseas finance and how many days to Christmas and it didn’t seem like it and it doesn’t interest us but Dawlish’s kids liked it and the expense of it all; until Dawlish suddenly said, ‘You never relax; it’s getting you down, this job?’
It wasn’t that he’d change it if it was, he just liked to know it all. Outside, dawn was bringing the sky to the colour of a mechanic’s handkerchief.
‘I can’t make it fit together,’ I said, ‘and some things are too convenient.’
‘Convenience is just a state of mind,’ said Dawlish. ‘It’s understanding that’s important. Understanding the symptoms you encounter will refer you to just one disease. You find a man with a pain in the foot and the finger and you wonder what he could possibly be suffering from with twosuch disparate symptoms. Then you find that while holding a nail one day he hit his finger with a hammer, then dropped it on to his toe.’
‘O.K.,’ I said, ‘so much for Emergency Ward Ten. Now listen to my problems. First, I am signing contracts with these rebels who want to take over in Portugal, and since the Foreign Office want to help them along a little I have to dive into an old Nazi sub. to find counterfeit money. So far so good, but while I am doing that damned frogman course two cars follow me down the A 3. Whose cars? Mr Elusive Smith, British Cabinet Minister. I ask to see a file about him but it never arrives …’
‘It will,’ said Dawlish, ‘it’s delayed, that’s all.’
I gave Dawlish the curly-lip treatment. ‘O.K., then there’s this man Butcher who sold us the ice-melting file.’
‘And a lot of rubbish it was too,’ said Dawlish.
‘No one thought so at the time,’ I said, ‘and the department paid over six thousand pounds for it.’
‘Five thousand seven hundred,’ said Dawlish.
‘So you looked it up,’ I challenged. ‘So you think it’s dodgy too.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Dawlish.
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘you’d say “inconsistent with departmental precedent”, but you’d think it was dodgy.’
Dawlish took out a handkerchief and lowered his nose into it, like he was going from a seventh-storey window into something held by eight firemen. He blew his nose loudly. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Well, I am followed by this dark-blue job from Vernon and this man Butcher. When I get to Gib. they are going through our mail …’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t
‘Just gave it to you, did he?’ said Dawlish. He flung me a fresh packet of Gauloises. ‘Very good. A stroke of luck.’
The phone rang. Alice said she’d run out of coffee, would Nescafé do. It was 6.25 a.m. and Dawlish told her she’d better go home and get some sleep, but she brought it up for us.
‘New cups and saucers, eh Alice,’ I said. Her smile was like a shaft of Christmas-afternoon sunshine. Dawlish handed her the block of metal. It was eight inches by six and about two and a quarter inches thick. The arcs of milling shone as she twisted it in her bony hands.
A large hole was driven through the carbon steel block. Fitting exactly into the hole were three discs. Two of the discs were over an inch thick. Alice shook them into her open palm. The diescarried a fine intaglio design, on one a man on a prancing horse, on the other a portrait of Queen Victoria. Nestling between them was a shiny sovereign.
Alice studied each one carefully, and looked up at me and then at Dawlish.
‘Isn’t it just as I said, Mr Dawlish?’
‘Yes, you were right, Alice,’ said Dawlish. ‘Excellent quality die for forging sovereigns.’
‘But didn’t I tell you that it would have Queen Victoria on it?’ she asked Dawlish.
‘All right, Alice,’ I said, ‘I was wrong, but we aren’t through diving yet.’
Alice trotted off home at 6.45 a.m. and over our coffee Dawlish and I sat down and talked about staff changes and overseas finance and how many days to Christmas and it didn’t seem like it and it doesn’t interest us but Dawlish’s kids liked it and the expense of it all; until Dawlish suddenly said, ‘You never relax; it’s getting you down, this job?’
It wasn’t that he’d change it if it was, he just liked to know it all. Outside, dawn was bringing the sky to the colour of a mechanic’s handkerchief.
‘I can’t make it fit together,’ I said, ‘and some things are too convenient.’
‘Convenience is just a state of mind,’ said Dawlish. ‘It’s understanding that’s important. Understanding the symptoms you encounter will refer you to just one disease. You find a man with a pain in the foot and the finger and you wonder what he could possibly be suffering from with twosuch disparate symptoms. Then you find that while holding a nail one day he hit his finger with a hammer, then dropped it on to his toe.’
‘O.K.,’ I said, ‘so much for Emergency Ward Ten. Now listen to my problems. First, I am signing contracts with these rebels who want to take over in Portugal, and since the Foreign Office want to help them along a little I have to dive into an old Nazi sub. to find counterfeit money. So far so good, but while I am doing that damned frogman course two cars follow me down the A 3. Whose cars? Mr Elusive Smith, British Cabinet Minister. I ask to see a file about him but it never arrives …’
‘It will,’ said Dawlish, ‘it’s delayed, that’s all.’
I gave Dawlish the curly-lip treatment. ‘O.K., then there’s this man Butcher who sold us the ice-melting file.’
‘And a lot of rubbish it was too,’ said Dawlish.
‘No one thought so at the time,’ I said, ‘and the department paid over six thousand pounds for it.’
‘Five thousand seven hundred,’ said Dawlish.
‘So you looked it up,’ I challenged. ‘So you think it’s dodgy too.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Dawlish.
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘you’d say “inconsistent with departmental precedent”, but you’d think it was dodgy.’
Dawlish took out a handkerchief and lowered his nose into it, like he was going from a seventh-storey window into something held by eight firemen. He blew his nose loudly. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Well, I am followed by this dark-blue job from Vernon and this man Butcher. When I get to Gib. they are going through our mail …’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t
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