Horse Under Water

34 Awakening

Sleet was falling as we arrived at Charlotte Street. A man in a shiny car threw a handful of sparks on to the wet road as he sped by us. We went up to Dawlish’s office on the top floor. Things were hectic: Dawlish had taken his jacket off.

‘Take that tea tray off the chair and sit down,’ he said, and Alice poked her head round the door because she couldn’t remember how many sugars I took.

‘Terrible night,’ said Dawlish. ‘Sorry to drag you into this fracas. I’ve missed my Tuesday bridge game for the first time in nearly two years.’

‘We must all make sacrifices,’ I said.

‘Yes, when our masters bid us jump,’ said Dawlish.

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t my evening for playing anything, I’m afraid.’ Jean shot me a glance.

‘Strutton Plan, so it’s all your doing,’ said Dawlish in mock admonition. ‘We now have permission to set up an Advisory Board’ — he looked at the papers on his desk and read off the words — ‘Strutton Plan Advisory Board’. He looked up and beamed. Behind the beam was a worried face.

‘Subtle titling,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Dawlish doubtfully, and then he was away into the administration: this is what he was so good at — the tactics of bureaucracy — and don’t ever imagine it’s not important. ‘The Board will appoint four specialized committees: Communications, Finance, Training, and a Control Structure Committee. Now we won’t be able to control all of those, so what we do is this. Let the Ministry people grab anything they want, in fact we’ll nominate a few of them, lavish compliments on their suitability. Incidentally,’ Dawlish blew his nose loudly on a big handkerchief, ‘don’t overdo the compliments; they’re beginning to suspect you of sarcasm over the other side.’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Dawlish. ‘Now; when they are committed up to the armpits you will suggest a fifth committee: a Compatibility Committee — for co-ordination …’

‘Very neat,’ I said, ‘just as you did on the Dundee Report — you ended up in control — I’ve often wondered how you did it.’

‘Mum’s the word, old boy,’ said Dawlish. ‘I’d like to do it again before they tumble to it.’

‘O.K.,’ I said, ‘but when does all this begin?’

‘Well, you will be on the Board and I don’t see who they can possibly suggest as Chairman of the Finance if it isn’t you.’

‘I follow you all right,’ I said, ‘between the two of us we’ll have the situation well in hand; but what I meant was, when does it begin?’

Dawlish looked at his desk diary. ‘Convened for Thursday at 3.30 p.m., Storey’s Gate, for the first meeting anyway.’

‘No, but look, I can’t hang around here till next Thursday. The Albufeira situation is far too flexible.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Dawlish. ‘I want to speak to you about that.’ Dawlish walked across to the I.B.M. machine that correlated all his data. He fidgeted around with the controls. ‘I want you to complete the report as soon as possible.’ He kept his back towards me. I knew that this was what he really wanted to talk about, that the Strutton Report panic was a smokescreen. Dawlish came back to the desk and flipped a switch on his desk intercom. Alice answered; he said, ‘Code name for the Albufeira operation?’ Alice’s voice squeezed through the tiny loudspeaker, ‘Alforreca,’ she said.

‘Very erudite,’ I said to Dawlish. It was the Portuguese name for the sea animal we call the ‘Portuguese Man of War’. Dawlish smiled and flipped the key to tell Alice what I had said, then turned back to me.

‘We’re winding up “Alforreca”,’ he said. ‘I’ll need your report for the Minister in the morning. Special Cabinet instruction.’

‘No dice,’ I said.

‘I don’t think I follow you,’ said Dawlish.

‘I’m not through yet,’ I said, ‘I’ve a lot more to do.’

Dawlish was huffed. ‘Possibly, but you won’t be required to continue, completeness is just a state of mind.’

‘So is high-level interference a state of mind; I’ll go back there in my own time, I’ll take my leave there.’

‘Be reasonable,’ said Dawlish. ‘What’s wrong?’

I brought the wad of photos from my pocket. Twenty-three pages from Mr Smith’s private diary. Most of it used the uncrackable cipher of busy men — bad writing. There were cryptic lunch appointments and meticulous compilations of tax-deductible expenses. The reference to V.N.V. concerned sales of undefined goods and numerical nomenclature of Swiss bank accounts.

One page, however, contained something more specific. ‘Tell K’ he’d written,

It was signed ‘XYST’.

It wouldn’t have meant a thing to me either if I hadn’t noticed the words ‘Moreing & Neal’ on another page.

I had the research boys look up the Moreing & Neal commercial code while I put the prints on the dryer. Now I told Dawlish about it.

‘It means “erection of chemical works”, then “goods have been shipped”, then “value of £7,100” and “deliver documents”. The word BARONESS means “beware of” and HORNPOCK means “don’t mention”. ZAYAT and XYST are spare code-words for private use. XYST is obviously Smith’s signature.’

I waited while Dawlish got the full import. He was swinging his tobacco pouch like a lariat.

I went on, ‘It means Smith has sent K (that must be Kondit) seven thousand pounds’ worth of laboratory gear (to do ice-melting experiments, I’d guess). “The documents” refers to the sovereign die (there is no closer codeword) and ZAYAT is me. Smith says to beware of me.’

‘I know just how he feels,’ said Dawlish. Solemnly he removed his spectacles, dabbed at his face with a huge white handkerchief, replaced his spectacles and read the whole thing through again. ‘Alice,’ he finally said into the squawk-box, ‘you’d better come in right away.’

As Dawlish said, it was all a bit circumstantial. It didn’t fit very neatly together. Why would Smith finance a laboratory in such an out-of-the-way place when it would be far less conspicuous in London? And Dawlish thought I was bending it a bit to interpret ‘documents’ as ‘die’.

Dawlish’s department was responsible directly to the Cabinet; you could see why the old man was so reluctant to cross a member of the Cabinet, a very powerful member of the Cabinet.

Finally, four Nescafés later, Dawlish leaned well back in his chair and said, ‘I’m convinced that you are quite wrong.’ The old man was staring at a corner of the ceiling. ‘Convinced,’ he said again. Alice caught my eye. ‘And therefore it is only …’ he paused, ‘… ethical, to continue the investigation to protect Smith’s name.’

That’s what Dawlish said to the ceiling, and while he said it I lowered an eyelid slowly at Alice; and, do you know, she moved the corners of her mouth an eighth of an inch upward.

I got to my feet. ‘Don’t take advantage,’ Dawlish said anxiously, ‘I can only delay things a little while.’ He turned back to the Strutton Plan papers. ‘You’ll overreach yourself one day,’ I heard him grumbling to the filing cabinet as I left. I suppose he was fed up with talking to the ceiling.