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Authors: Anthony Price
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coincidence once again was too glaring to ignore.
‘You’re quite right to suspect everyone, Audley,’ said Llewelyn. ‘The possibility of Shapiro’s innocence has occurred to us. You actually favour the P.F.L.P., don’t you, Cox?’
‘The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine as such – no,’ said Cox judiciously. ‘They’ve been getting more responsible – or maybe more respectable – recently, rather like the student revolutionaries. But there are one or two offshoots which do frighten the life out of me.’
‘Such as?’
Cox considered Audley in silence for several seconds. ‘The one that worries me at this moment in time hasn’t even got a name yet. Not a name I can put to it,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Or at best only part of a name.’
It wasn’t reluctance, but diffidence. Cox had never met Audley before, but he would know the big man’s reputation well enough. Roskill remembered his own first traumatic encounter with him again: he had been desperately afraid of having his own cherished theories disdainfully shot down in flames.
He looked at Cox carefully for the first time. He didn’t look like a policeman – not the bulldog, bloodhound or alsatian varieties anyway. Mongrel with a discernible fox terrier bloodline, unremarkable in any gathering. But that, of course, was the modern Special Branch trend; a hairy hitchhiking student had only recently complained to him that the special fuzz was becoming hard to pinpoint.
What was certain, though, was that Cox’s ability would belie his appearance: there’d be no dead wood around Llewelyn and Stocker.
The same thoughts, or something like, must have been running through Audley’s head. ‘Even part of a name is a beginning,’ he said encouragingly. ‘A name and a feeling about it. I’ve started with no more man that often enough.’
Cox nodded. ‘That’s about it – a name and a feeling.’
‘And the name?’
‘ Hassan .’ Cox paused. ‘It’s a man, or the code name for a man, not a group. The man who gives the orders to a group, maybe an inner P.F.L.P. wing, or an off-shoot, or maybe some-tiling entirely new – we don’t know.’
‘And what has Hassan done so far?’
‘Apparently nothing. The only references we’ve had to Hassan are in the nature of forecasts. Rather messianic forecasts, too.’
‘Such as?’
‘We’ve had four, possibly five. And when I say “we” I mean the joint committee we set up with the Interpol people in ‘69. The West Germans got the first when they were rounding up everyone after the Zurich air crash. They all add up to the same thing, anyway – when Hassan gets going he won’t make any mistakes .’
‘Then that would seem to rule out Hassan in this instance, Tom,’ said Llewelyn.
‘That depends, sir, on whether he intended to get you or merely to frighten you.’
‘He’s frightened me – no doubt about that. But he could have done that with far less trouble – and without any accidental bloodshed.’
Cox shook his head. ‘I don’t think he’s fussy about that.’
‘Which means, I take it,’ said Audley, ‘that something unpleasant happened to your five sources?’
Cox looked at him sharply. ‘Yes – and no. Two of them were released – three if you count the one in France, but we don’t really know for sure about him. The French aren’t very cooperative these days. All three of them have disappeared, anyway.’
‘And the other two?’
‘They were held on weapons charges. Each of them had a sub-machine gun hidden in his digs – in each case, oddly enough, it was an Israeli Uzi they’d got, too.’
‘Not so odd, really,’ said Stocker. ‘The Uzi happens to be the best thing on the market. It’s standard issue in four or five gentile armies – what you might call an Israeli export triumph.’
‘Well, the Germans didn’t take kindly to it in the hands of a couple of Arab students – one was a Syrian, actually, and the other an Iraqi. They
‘You’re quite right to suspect everyone, Audley,’ said Llewelyn. ‘The possibility of Shapiro’s innocence has occurred to us. You actually favour the P.F.L.P., don’t you, Cox?’
‘The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine as such – no,’ said Cox judiciously. ‘They’ve been getting more responsible – or maybe more respectable – recently, rather like the student revolutionaries. But there are one or two offshoots which do frighten the life out of me.’
‘Such as?’
Cox considered Audley in silence for several seconds. ‘The one that worries me at this moment in time hasn’t even got a name yet. Not a name I can put to it,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Or at best only part of a name.’
It wasn’t reluctance, but diffidence. Cox had never met Audley before, but he would know the big man’s reputation well enough. Roskill remembered his own first traumatic encounter with him again: he had been desperately afraid of having his own cherished theories disdainfully shot down in flames.
He looked at Cox carefully for the first time. He didn’t look like a policeman – not the bulldog, bloodhound or alsatian varieties anyway. Mongrel with a discernible fox terrier bloodline, unremarkable in any gathering. But that, of course, was the modern Special Branch trend; a hairy hitchhiking student had only recently complained to him that the special fuzz was becoming hard to pinpoint.
What was certain, though, was that Cox’s ability would belie his appearance: there’d be no dead wood around Llewelyn and Stocker.
The same thoughts, or something like, must have been running through Audley’s head. ‘Even part of a name is a beginning,’ he said encouragingly. ‘A name and a feeling about it. I’ve started with no more man that often enough.’
Cox nodded. ‘That’s about it – a name and a feeling.’
‘And the name?’
‘ Hassan .’ Cox paused. ‘It’s a man, or the code name for a man, not a group. The man who gives the orders to a group, maybe an inner P.F.L.P. wing, or an off-shoot, or maybe some-tiling entirely new – we don’t know.’
‘And what has Hassan done so far?’
‘Apparently nothing. The only references we’ve had to Hassan are in the nature of forecasts. Rather messianic forecasts, too.’
‘Such as?’
‘We’ve had four, possibly five. And when I say “we” I mean the joint committee we set up with the Interpol people in ‘69. The West Germans got the first when they were rounding up everyone after the Zurich air crash. They all add up to the same thing, anyway – when Hassan gets going he won’t make any mistakes .’
‘Then that would seem to rule out Hassan in this instance, Tom,’ said Llewelyn.
‘That depends, sir, on whether he intended to get you or merely to frighten you.’
‘He’s frightened me – no doubt about that. But he could have done that with far less trouble – and without any accidental bloodshed.’
Cox shook his head. ‘I don’t think he’s fussy about that.’
‘Which means, I take it,’ said Audley, ‘that something unpleasant happened to your five sources?’
Cox looked at him sharply. ‘Yes – and no. Two of them were released – three if you count the one in France, but we don’t really know for sure about him. The French aren’t very cooperative these days. All three of them have disappeared, anyway.’
‘And the other two?’
‘They were held on weapons charges. Each of them had a sub-machine gun hidden in his digs – in each case, oddly enough, it was an Israeli Uzi they’d got, too.’
‘Not so odd, really,’ said Stocker. ‘The Uzi happens to be the best thing on the market. It’s standard issue in four or five gentile armies – what you might call an Israeli export triumph.’
‘Well, the Germans didn’t take kindly to it in the hands of a couple of Arab students – one was a Syrian, actually, and the other an Iraqi. They
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