Read Online Here Be Monsters by Anthony Price - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthony Price
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trying to assert itself. ‘Suffice it to say that until that comparison, nothing even remotely suspicious had been established against either of them.’
‘How good was the vetting?’
Latimer bridled slightly. ‘It was … it was good enough, as far as it went.’ He frowned. ‘No—it was good—let’s be fair.’ He nodded. ‘If it had been me, I might have cleared them, too—shall we say that?’ The effort of ‘being fair’ taxed him sorely, she could see: he didn’t want to be fair.
But that was not what she wanted right now. ‘So they compared the two lists?’ She had to keep him moving. ‘And came up with the Pointe du Hoc?’
‘Not immediately, no. That came later. What they came up with first was Parker’s name in Thomas’s address book and vice-versa. So then they started to double-check.’ He stared at her. ‘And, you know, that really is the one absolutely curious thing about this whole wretched business, when you think about it.’
‘What is?’
He shifted in his chair. ‘The Pointe du Hoc—or that particular point in the sea midway between the two American landing beaches anyway, where Parker picked Thomas up. Because that really was the only connecting link between them which anyone could come up with. They were each on their own respective list in ‘58, and they’d met just that once in ‘44—and they gave exactly the same account of it, near enough. Apart from those few cards … which they’d stopped exchanging long since … there was nothing else. They both worked for their governments—they were both civil servants. But Thomas had no American connections of any significance, his work was strictly European. And Parker’s was strictly South American … or maybe Central American.’ He blinked irritably. ‘”Hemispherical”, the State Department called it. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they checked Parker again too, and pronounced him pristine. He remembered Thomas from ‘44, but that was all. Their paths hadn’t crossed again.’
‘And we cleared Thomas?’
‘He was cleared also.’ Traces of irritation remained in Latimer’s expression. ‘And we were duly reminded that he was a D-Day hero who deserved better of his country than to be hounded by inquisitive little men in dirty raincoats.’
‘So he was cleared.’ The point had to be pressed. ‘So what happened then?’
‘He resigned … not long afterwards.’ Latimer waved his Thornton’s hand vaguely.
‘Why?’ The point still had to be pressed. ‘If he’d been cleared—?’
‘He had been cleared. And by that time the whole Debrecen investigation had been aborted.’ Another vague gesture. ‘He said he wanted to go back to teaching. The Foreign Office blamed us. You must ask Dr Audley—he blamed the Foreign Office.’
That at least sounded like David Audley, whose instinct in adversity was never defensive. But, as Latimer kept saying, she could ask David about everything in due course. What mattered now was that Latimer expected her to ask him , judging by his expectant expression.
In fact she had a Wimbledon Centre Court queue of questions, all pushing and shoving. But now a new one had just jostled its way to the very front.
‘Yes, Elizabeth?’ He played not so idly with the lid of his box.
‘One thing, you said— two things, actually—I don’t understand.’
He rubbed the tip of his nose. ‘Only two things?’
Supercilious pig ! ‘You cleared Squadron Leader Thomas. Back in 1958.’
He worked on his nose for a moment. ‘He was cleared, certainly. Twice, actually. But not by me.’
That re-emphasized minor matter, in passing: that whatever had gone wrong in ‘this wretched business’, Oliver St John Latimer was not going to take any past blame.
‘And Major Parker was cleared.’
‘So he was.’ He agreed cautiously. ‘By the Americans.’
‘Yes.’ That was another straw in the wind. Or a bale of straw. ‘So how do we know they never met again,
‘How good was the vetting?’
Latimer bridled slightly. ‘It was … it was good enough, as far as it went.’ He frowned. ‘No—it was good—let’s be fair.’ He nodded. ‘If it had been me, I might have cleared them, too—shall we say that?’ The effort of ‘being fair’ taxed him sorely, she could see: he didn’t want to be fair.
But that was not what she wanted right now. ‘So they compared the two lists?’ She had to keep him moving. ‘And came up with the Pointe du Hoc?’
‘Not immediately, no. That came later. What they came up with first was Parker’s name in Thomas’s address book and vice-versa. So then they started to double-check.’ He stared at her. ‘And, you know, that really is the one absolutely curious thing about this whole wretched business, when you think about it.’
‘What is?’
He shifted in his chair. ‘The Pointe du Hoc—or that particular point in the sea midway between the two American landing beaches anyway, where Parker picked Thomas up. Because that really was the only connecting link between them which anyone could come up with. They were each on their own respective list in ‘58, and they’d met just that once in ‘44—and they gave exactly the same account of it, near enough. Apart from those few cards … which they’d stopped exchanging long since … there was nothing else. They both worked for their governments—they were both civil servants. But Thomas had no American connections of any significance, his work was strictly European. And Parker’s was strictly South American … or maybe Central American.’ He blinked irritably. ‘”Hemispherical”, the State Department called it. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they checked Parker again too, and pronounced him pristine. He remembered Thomas from ‘44, but that was all. Their paths hadn’t crossed again.’
‘And we cleared Thomas?’
‘He was cleared also.’ Traces of irritation remained in Latimer’s expression. ‘And we were duly reminded that he was a D-Day hero who deserved better of his country than to be hounded by inquisitive little men in dirty raincoats.’
‘So he was cleared.’ The point had to be pressed. ‘So what happened then?’
‘He resigned … not long afterwards.’ Latimer waved his Thornton’s hand vaguely.
‘Why?’ The point still had to be pressed. ‘If he’d been cleared—?’
‘He had been cleared. And by that time the whole Debrecen investigation had been aborted.’ Another vague gesture. ‘He said he wanted to go back to teaching. The Foreign Office blamed us. You must ask Dr Audley—he blamed the Foreign Office.’
That at least sounded like David Audley, whose instinct in adversity was never defensive. But, as Latimer kept saying, she could ask David about everything in due course. What mattered now was that Latimer expected her to ask him , judging by his expectant expression.
In fact she had a Wimbledon Centre Court queue of questions, all pushing and shoving. But now a new one had just jostled its way to the very front.
‘Yes, Elizabeth?’ He played not so idly with the lid of his box.
‘One thing, you said— two things, actually—I don’t understand.’
He rubbed the tip of his nose. ‘Only two things?’
Supercilious pig ! ‘You cleared Squadron Leader Thomas. Back in 1958.’
He worked on his nose for a moment. ‘He was cleared, certainly. Twice, actually. But not by me.’
That re-emphasized minor matter, in passing: that whatever had gone wrong in ‘this wretched business’, Oliver St John Latimer was not going to take any past blame.
‘And Major Parker was cleared.’
‘So he was.’ He agreed cautiously. ‘By the Americans.’
‘Yes.’ That was another straw in the wind. Or a bale of straw. ‘So how do we know they never met again,
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