car now?’ Butler turned to them. ‘It’ll save time later.’
‘Yes.’ Audley nodded. ‘But more to the point. Jack, I’ve got work for you now. We’d better split up here. We’ll take the General, Paul and I … you get on to the Department. Tell them about the old man, Davis - get to the police on that and see if they’ve turned up anything more on the Emerson killing. Get them to check Paul’s insurance salesman against anyone who may have been here or at Farley Green - try the contract killers’ file, this has a contract smell about it. And I want the latest report from France also, particularly if they’ve got a fix on Ted Ollivier.’
Butler glowered at him mutinously, presumably at the prospect of donkey-work to be done by him while Audley enjoyed himself.
‘But most of all I want you to dig up all there is on the Poachers - the 29th Battalion of the Rifles. Find out how many of ‘em are still alive, where they live and so on. And then dig up the records on - what would it be under, Paul - the Bully Wood-Prussian Redoubt business?’
‘The battle of Hameau Ridge - September-October 1916.’
Audley nodded.
‘On that. Jack.’
‘There are some good air photographs of it in the Imperial War Museum,’ said Mitchell.
‘Air photos - now there’s a thought,’ exclaimed Audley. ‘We should have thought of that before. Get them to hire a light aircraft - Hugh Roskill’s fit to fly now and he can take the man Steele, the photographic genius - get them to fly over the Somme area and pick up anything interesting. But especially the Hameau Ridge - get that from all angles.’
‘That’s going to take rime,’ Butler demurred.
‘Not much. From London to the Somme as the crow flies must be about the same distance as London to York - if Dick Turpin could do that in a day on horseback, Hugh Roskill can be there and back by plane before tea.’
‘And the French?’
‘What’s it got to do with them? Tell Hugh to fly on to Paris and have tea there - and then change his mind and fly home again. It’s practically on the direct route.’
‘And if Sir Frederick queries it?’
Tell him we’ve got one murder, one likely murder and one attempted murder already. Remind him Ted Ollivier’s mixed up in it, and my thumbs are still pricking. And tell him I’ve got Mitchell with me, and everything’s shaping up nicely.
‘They watched Butler disappear in a shower of disapproving gravel and with an angry engine roar. Yet there was a lesson he’d left behind him - that with Audley disapproval didn’t mean disobedience.
‘I don’t think your shares stand very high at the moment,’ said Mitchell.
‘Oh, Jack doesn’t like me very much,’ replied Audley airily. ‘He doesn’t approve of the homo Audliensis in general, it figures too many angles for him to regard it favourably. Like why our boss will give me everything I want just at the moment, for instance, whether it’s a uniform for you or a spy-plane for me.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Ah, that would be telling! But let’s say now the British and the French are in the European Community together we’re not above doing them a good turn … And as for our Jack - if you think his not liking me influences him in any way, then you mistake your man. Jack sees himself in some sense as my nursemaid - which in some ways is what he is - and consequently he becomes uneasy when I’m out of his sight. The nursemaid may not love the Little Master, but she doesn’t let him reach through the bars and prod the lions and tigers all the same. And she expects him to play the game too - Always keep tight hold of Nurse, For fear of finding something worse. ’
It occurred to Mitchell that simply by doing the driving himself Colonel Butler could go a long way towards preserving the Little Master from life’s perils. But he didn’t know Audley well enough yet to criticise his car-handling without giving offence; that was an action as foolhardy as finding
‘Yes.’ Audley nodded. ‘But more to the point. Jack, I’ve got work for you now. We’d better split up here. We’ll take the General, Paul and I … you get on to the Department. Tell them about the old man, Davis - get to the police on that and see if they’ve turned up anything more on the Emerson killing. Get them to check Paul’s insurance salesman against anyone who may have been here or at Farley Green - try the contract killers’ file, this has a contract smell about it. And I want the latest report from France also, particularly if they’ve got a fix on Ted Ollivier.’
Butler glowered at him mutinously, presumably at the prospect of donkey-work to be done by him while Audley enjoyed himself.
‘But most of all I want you to dig up all there is on the Poachers - the 29th Battalion of the Rifles. Find out how many of ‘em are still alive, where they live and so on. And then dig up the records on - what would it be under, Paul - the Bully Wood-Prussian Redoubt business?’
‘The battle of Hameau Ridge - September-October 1916.’
Audley nodded.
‘On that. Jack.’
‘There are some good air photographs of it in the Imperial War Museum,’ said Mitchell.
‘Air photos - now there’s a thought,’ exclaimed Audley. ‘We should have thought of that before. Get them to hire a light aircraft - Hugh Roskill’s fit to fly now and he can take the man Steele, the photographic genius - get them to fly over the Somme area and pick up anything interesting. But especially the Hameau Ridge - get that from all angles.’
‘That’s going to take rime,’ Butler demurred.
‘Not much. From London to the Somme as the crow flies must be about the same distance as London to York - if Dick Turpin could do that in a day on horseback, Hugh Roskill can be there and back by plane before tea.’
‘And the French?’
‘What’s it got to do with them? Tell Hugh to fly on to Paris and have tea there - and then change his mind and fly home again. It’s practically on the direct route.’
‘And if Sir Frederick queries it?’
Tell him we’ve got one murder, one likely murder and one attempted murder already. Remind him Ted Ollivier’s mixed up in it, and my thumbs are still pricking. And tell him I’ve got Mitchell with me, and everything’s shaping up nicely.
‘They watched Butler disappear in a shower of disapproving gravel and with an angry engine roar. Yet there was a lesson he’d left behind him - that with Audley disapproval didn’t mean disobedience.
‘I don’t think your shares stand very high at the moment,’ said Mitchell.
‘Oh, Jack doesn’t like me very much,’ replied Audley airily. ‘He doesn’t approve of the homo Audliensis in general, it figures too many angles for him to regard it favourably. Like why our boss will give me everything I want just at the moment, for instance, whether it’s a uniform for you or a spy-plane for me.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Ah, that would be telling! But let’s say now the British and the French are in the European Community together we’re not above doing them a good turn … And as for our Jack - if you think his not liking me influences him in any way, then you mistake your man. Jack sees himself in some sense as my nursemaid - which in some ways is what he is - and consequently he becomes uneasy when I’m out of his sight. The nursemaid may not love the Little Master, but she doesn’t let him reach through the bars and prod the lions and tigers all the same. And she expects him to play the game too - Always keep tight hold of Nurse, For fear of finding something worse. ’
It occurred to Mitchell that simply by doing the driving himself Colonel Butler could go a long way towards preserving the Little Master from life’s perils. But he didn’t know Audley well enough yet to criticise his car-handling without giving offence; that was an action as foolhardy as finding
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