tried to shut out the reality but it wouldn’t go. I had the same suicidal desperation that is usually caused by a champagne hangover. I didn’t want to move ever again.
But somehow I jerked myself out of bed and dressed and went out of the bedroom and down the corridor and across the hall and out of the house.
The day was bright and sunny but behind the trees heavy grey clouds were beginning to build up and fill the sky. I hurried across the gravel to the garage, trying not to think so that what I was going to do would be easier.
I lifted the handle and slid the garage door open.
PLENDER
I sat on my bed and played the electric razor over my face and listened to the tape recorder.
The dialing tone stopped and there was the click and a pause and then Froy’s voice said,
“This is Mr. Brown speaking. I’m phoning to report that the operation has reached a successful conclusion.”
The man on the other end of the phone said, “Thank you. I had no doubt that it wouldn’t.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The Movement is fortunate to have such competent operatives in its employ, an event for which you have largely been responsible.”
Froy made some more thank you noises.
“As Leader,” said the other voice, “I shall see that you shall not go unrewarded.”
Froy was almost screaming by now. There was a pause and then Froy ventured, “I have had Gorton’s speech written for the Leeds conference.”
“Yes.”
“I must say it reads well.”
“Who wrote it?”
“Potter of the Crusader . He’s going to do a companion piece the weekend after the speech in the Sunday edition. They’ll give the speech big coverage and the companion piece will restate the issues.”
“Excellent.”
“Also the Liverpool rally is in the last stages of organisation.”
“Who are we using?”
“Davies will be the main speaker. Some of our men will be there acting as leftist-anarchist agitators. The television people will be covering it so they won’t be dis-appointed.”
“Good. Well, everything seems to be progressing satisfactorily. The old truths are being well served. In time, England will have much to thank us for.”
“Yes, sir.”
They said their goodnights and the tape went dead. I switched off my razor and got up off the bed. There was a knock on the door. I walked over and opened the door and my landlady bustled in with my breakfast tray and put it down on the table.
“Thanks, Margaret,” I said. “Been out yet?”
In all the time I’d lived there I’d never once seen her outside of the house.
Margaret shuddered.
“I’ve got more sense,” she said.
“Go on,” I said. “Looks a nice day. Fresh air’ll do you good.”
“It’s bitter out,” she said. “And it’s going to rain.”
“No,” I said. “It won’t rain, not today.”
“You try telling my rheumatism that,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
I picked up my phone and dialed Gurney’s number.
“How did it go last night?” I said.
“Well,” said Gurney.
“Was Camille all right?”
“Fine.”
“No messing about?”
“No, she was fine.”
“Well, you know what to do now.”
“Yes.”
“When will the pictures be ready?”
“Give me a chance, Mr. Plender.”
“When?”
“Sometime tomorrow, I expect.”
“Good. Listen, there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Plender.”
“Is Stoney likely to be at the garage today?”
KNOTT
I sat at the breakfast table and stared at the colour supplement. The car had gone. Somebody had taken the car. Stolen it. With Eileen in the boot. What would happen when they found the body? Abandon the car? And then the police would find the car and I’d be finished.
I hadn’t told Kate the car had gone. She’d want to know why I hadn’t called the police. But she’d have to know sometime. What would happen then?
Kate put a cup of coffee in front of me. Her movements expressed her mood perfectly. Her mind was still on what had upset her
But somehow I jerked myself out of bed and dressed and went out of the bedroom and down the corridor and across the hall and out of the house.
The day was bright and sunny but behind the trees heavy grey clouds were beginning to build up and fill the sky. I hurried across the gravel to the garage, trying not to think so that what I was going to do would be easier.
I lifted the handle and slid the garage door open.
PLENDER
I sat on my bed and played the electric razor over my face and listened to the tape recorder.
The dialing tone stopped and there was the click and a pause and then Froy’s voice said,
“This is Mr. Brown speaking. I’m phoning to report that the operation has reached a successful conclusion.”
The man on the other end of the phone said, “Thank you. I had no doubt that it wouldn’t.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The Movement is fortunate to have such competent operatives in its employ, an event for which you have largely been responsible.”
Froy made some more thank you noises.
“As Leader,” said the other voice, “I shall see that you shall not go unrewarded.”
Froy was almost screaming by now. There was a pause and then Froy ventured, “I have had Gorton’s speech written for the Leeds conference.”
“Yes.”
“I must say it reads well.”
“Who wrote it?”
“Potter of the Crusader . He’s going to do a companion piece the weekend after the speech in the Sunday edition. They’ll give the speech big coverage and the companion piece will restate the issues.”
“Excellent.”
“Also the Liverpool rally is in the last stages of organisation.”
“Who are we using?”
“Davies will be the main speaker. Some of our men will be there acting as leftist-anarchist agitators. The television people will be covering it so they won’t be dis-appointed.”
“Good. Well, everything seems to be progressing satisfactorily. The old truths are being well served. In time, England will have much to thank us for.”
“Yes, sir.”
They said their goodnights and the tape went dead. I switched off my razor and got up off the bed. There was a knock on the door. I walked over and opened the door and my landlady bustled in with my breakfast tray and put it down on the table.
“Thanks, Margaret,” I said. “Been out yet?”
In all the time I’d lived there I’d never once seen her outside of the house.
Margaret shuddered.
“I’ve got more sense,” she said.
“Go on,” I said. “Looks a nice day. Fresh air’ll do you good.”
“It’s bitter out,” she said. “And it’s going to rain.”
“No,” I said. “It won’t rain, not today.”
“You try telling my rheumatism that,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
I picked up my phone and dialed Gurney’s number.
“How did it go last night?” I said.
“Well,” said Gurney.
“Was Camille all right?”
“Fine.”
“No messing about?”
“No, she was fine.”
“Well, you know what to do now.”
“Yes.”
“When will the pictures be ready?”
“Give me a chance, Mr. Plender.”
“When?”
“Sometime tomorrow, I expect.”
“Good. Listen, there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Plender.”
“Is Stoney likely to be at the garage today?”
KNOTT
I sat at the breakfast table and stared at the colour supplement. The car had gone. Somebody had taken the car. Stolen it. With Eileen in the boot. What would happen when they found the body? Abandon the car? And then the police would find the car and I’d be finished.
I hadn’t told Kate the car had gone. She’d want to know why I hadn’t called the police. But she’d have to know sometime. What would happen then?
Kate put a cup of coffee in front of me. Her movements expressed her mood perfectly. Her mind was still on what had upset her
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