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Authors: Anthony Price
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only appear in the Cambridge manuscript, seems.”
“Meaning?”
Harry Finsterwald made a tiny, half-strangled sound.
“I’ve got it translated here somewhere… ‘up until the year of the siege of the hosts at Badon Hill which took place near Sabrinum’.”
“And I take it there’s no such place as Sabrinum?” said Shirley.
“There’s a Sabrina, actually, honey—Roman name for the river Severn. But nobody rates the gloss worth a damn. They usually don’t even list it among the possible places. They reckon it dates from later mediaeval times.”
He tossed the book back on to the table, watching Schreiner out of the corner of his eye as he did so. It all added up, but then at the foot of the column there was something wrong with the final figure: ultimately this interest in Arthur and Badon and the Novgorod Bede had to be simply a cover for something else, for the KGB and the CIA both. And yet Schreiner’s concern for the historical details was curiously intense, as though it mattered to him what Mosby himself felt about it… the way he’d been allowed to run off at the mouth about it, when Harry Finsterwald had been slapped down…
He shrugged. “All of which means there’s no way of finding Badon. And even if there was you’d have one hell of a job selling me the idea that the KGB gives a damn either way.”
Schreiner cocked his head belligerently. “But I don’t have to sell you anything, Sheldon. I just have to tell you.”
Tiger, tiger! thought Mosby. The State Department really was calling the shots on this one.
“Okay. So just tell me.”
“I intend to. Because there isn’t going to be any foul-up on this operation.” Schreiner looked round him coolly. “This isn’t a goddamn banana republic where you can throw your weight about. So once we know the shape of things we’re going to handle them diplomatically, with no brawling on the side between you and the KGB…And you—“ he pointed at Mosby “—are going to do just exactly what you’re told to do. No matter how crazy you may think it is.”
“Uh-huh?” Mosby yawned. “Like playing pat-a-cake with David Audley?”
“Or even with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?” said Shirley.
Schreiner turned towards her. “That just happens to be exactly right, Mrs Sheldon. As of now you’re going to forget you ever heard of the KGB—because as of now your cover story is your actual mission. You and your… husband are assigned to locate the map reference of Badon Hill, England. Just that.”
“Just that?” Shirley flicked a glance at Mosby. “Which according to my… husband… isn’t possible.”
Schreiner smiled. “’Improbable’ was what he finally settled for, I thought. And with David Audley to help you I’d rate your chances better than even—especially as you have an advantage no one else has ever had before you.”
“Which is?”
“Which is that sooner or later—and it had better be sooner—you will pick up Major Davies’s trail.”
“And where’s that going to get us?” said Shirley.
Calvin Merriwether stirred. “Just so you follow it, ma’am—it’s going to get you all the way to Badon Hill,” he said.
IV
MOSBY STUDIED CALVIN MERRIWETHER ’ S dark, intelligent face for a moment. This time there was no trace of humour in it.
“So he really was on to Badon Hill.”
“I told you so, Doc.” Harry Finsterwald had lost a little of his stuffing, but his voice still had an edge to it.
“I thought that was just part of the cover story, Harry. I didn’t actually buy it.”
“Well, you better buy it now, man. Because it’s true,” Merriwether said. “He thought—“
“Thought?” Mosby pounced on the word. “You don’t have any evidence?”
“Evidence? We know what he bought, if that’s evidence. All the books you’ve been reading so carefully. And we got what he said, if that’s evidence—“
“Said to whom?”
Merriwether raised a long-fingered hand.
“Meaning?”
Harry Finsterwald made a tiny, half-strangled sound.
“I’ve got it translated here somewhere… ‘up until the year of the siege of the hosts at Badon Hill which took place near Sabrinum’.”
“And I take it there’s no such place as Sabrinum?” said Shirley.
“There’s a Sabrina, actually, honey—Roman name for the river Severn. But nobody rates the gloss worth a damn. They usually don’t even list it among the possible places. They reckon it dates from later mediaeval times.”
He tossed the book back on to the table, watching Schreiner out of the corner of his eye as he did so. It all added up, but then at the foot of the column there was something wrong with the final figure: ultimately this interest in Arthur and Badon and the Novgorod Bede had to be simply a cover for something else, for the KGB and the CIA both. And yet Schreiner’s concern for the historical details was curiously intense, as though it mattered to him what Mosby himself felt about it… the way he’d been allowed to run off at the mouth about it, when Harry Finsterwald had been slapped down…
He shrugged. “All of which means there’s no way of finding Badon. And even if there was you’d have one hell of a job selling me the idea that the KGB gives a damn either way.”
Schreiner cocked his head belligerently. “But I don’t have to sell you anything, Sheldon. I just have to tell you.”
Tiger, tiger! thought Mosby. The State Department really was calling the shots on this one.
“Okay. So just tell me.”
“I intend to. Because there isn’t going to be any foul-up on this operation.” Schreiner looked round him coolly. “This isn’t a goddamn banana republic where you can throw your weight about. So once we know the shape of things we’re going to handle them diplomatically, with no brawling on the side between you and the KGB…And you—“ he pointed at Mosby “—are going to do just exactly what you’re told to do. No matter how crazy you may think it is.”
“Uh-huh?” Mosby yawned. “Like playing pat-a-cake with David Audley?”
“Or even with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?” said Shirley.
Schreiner turned towards her. “That just happens to be exactly right, Mrs Sheldon. As of now you’re going to forget you ever heard of the KGB—because as of now your cover story is your actual mission. You and your… husband are assigned to locate the map reference of Badon Hill, England. Just that.”
“Just that?” Shirley flicked a glance at Mosby. “Which according to my… husband… isn’t possible.”
Schreiner smiled. “’Improbable’ was what he finally settled for, I thought. And with David Audley to help you I’d rate your chances better than even—especially as you have an advantage no one else has ever had before you.”
“Which is?”
“Which is that sooner or later—and it had better be sooner—you will pick up Major Davies’s trail.”
“And where’s that going to get us?” said Shirley.
Calvin Merriwether stirred. “Just so you follow it, ma’am—it’s going to get you all the way to Badon Hill,” he said.
IV
MOSBY STUDIED CALVIN MERRIWETHER ’ S dark, intelligent face for a moment. This time there was no trace of humour in it.
“So he really was on to Badon Hill.”
“I told you so, Doc.” Harry Finsterwald had lost a little of his stuffing, but his voice still had an edge to it.
“I thought that was just part of the cover story, Harry. I didn’t actually buy it.”
“Well, you better buy it now, man. Because it’s true,” Merriwether said. “He thought—“
“Thought?” Mosby pounced on the word. “You don’t have any evidence?”
“Evidence? We know what he bought, if that’s evidence. All the books you’ve been reading so carefully. And we got what he said, if that’s evidence—“
“Said to whom?”
Merriwether raised a long-fingered hand.
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