The Enemy. Desmond Bagley
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crossed the room, opened a cabinet, and shortly came back with a tray which he put on a small table next to my elbow. ‘If you will excuse me, sir.’
‘Thank you, Benson.’ He was not staying around to be questioned, but even if he had I doubted if I could have got much out of him. He tended to speak in clichés and bland generalities, but whether he thought that way was quite another matter.
I had not long to wait for Penny and was barely half way through the drink when she came into the room. ‘Oh, Malcolm; how good to see you. What a blessed man you are.’ She looked tired and drawn.
‘I said I’d come. How’s Gillian?’
‘A little better, I think. She’s getting over the shock.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it. I had a talk with Honnister, the police inspector in charge of the case. He wants to interview her.’
‘Oh, Malcolm; she’s not ready for that. Not yet.’ She came to me and I took her in my arms. ‘Is it that bad?’
She laid her head on my chest for a moment, and then looked up at me. ‘I don’t think you know how bad this sort of thing is for a woman. Women seem to care more for their appearance than men – I suppose we have to because we’re in the man-catching business, most of us. It’s not just the physical shock that’s hit Gillian; there’s the psychological shock, too.’
‘Don’t think I’m not aware of it,’ I said. ‘But put yourself in Honnister’s place. He’s in a jam – he needs a description. Right now he doesn’t even know if he’s looking for a man or a woman.’
Penny looked startled. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. I assumed it would be a man.’
‘Honnister hasn’t made that assumption. He hasn’t made any assumptions at all because he has damn-all to go on. Is Gillian talking to you?’
‘A little, this afternoon.’ Penny made a wry face. ‘I’ve kept off the subject of acid-throwing.’
‘Could you go to the hospital tonight and see what you can get out of her? Honnister is really at his wits’ end about this. Your father couldn’t help him and he’s stuck.’
‘I suppose I could try.’
‘Better you than Honnister; he might not have your understanding. I’ll come with you; not into the ward, but I’ll come along.’
‘Will eight o’clock be all right for you? Not too late?’
‘All my time is at your disposal.’ I didn’t tell her that was literally true, by courtesy of one Ogilvie and paid for by the taxpayer. ‘You look as though you could do with a drink.’
‘I could stand a gin and tonic. Bring it into the kitchen, will you? I have to do something about dinner – Daddy will be home soon.’
She went away and I fixed the drink and took it into the kitchen, I offered to help but she laughed, and said. ‘You’d just be in the way. Mary is coming down to help.’
‘Mary who?’
‘The maid – Mary Cope. You find yourself something to do.’
I went away reflecting that what I really wanted to do was to give Ashton’s study a good shake-down. But if it’s bad form to question the servants I don’t know what the devil it would be called to be found searching through your host’s private papers in his sanctum sanctorum. Moodily I walked out into the garden.
I was knocking croquet balls about on the lawn when Ashton pitched up. There was a worn and honed look about him as though he was being fined down on some spiritual grindstone. His skin had not lost its tan but he looked paler than usual, and there was still that hurt look in his eyes. It was the look of a little boy who had been punished for something he hadn’t done; the anguished look of the injustice of the world. It’s hard to explain to a small boy that the world isn’t necessarily a just place, but Ashton had been around long enough to know it.
I said, ‘Penny’s in the kitchen, if you want her.’
‘I’ve seen her,’ he said shortly.
‘She tells me Gillian’s better this evening.’
He looked down, kicking the turf with the toe of his shoe. He didn’t speak for some time and I began to think he’d misheard me. But then he looked up and said abruptly, ‘She’s blind.’
‘Christ; I’m sorry to hear that.’
He nodded. ‘I had a specialist in this afternoon.’
‘Does she know? Does Penny know?’
‘Neither of them know. I had it kept from them.’
‘I can understand not telling Gillian, but why keep it from Penny?’
‘Unlike many sisters they’ve always been very close even though they are so unalike in temperament – perhaps because of it. I think if Penny knew, Gillian would get it out of her, and she couldn’t stand the shock now.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘Don’t tell her.’
Now that was all very logical and carefully thought out, and he had just given me a direct order, there was no doubt about that. ‘I won’t tell her,’ I said. ‘But she might find out anyway. She’s medically trained and nobody’s fool.’
‘Just so that it comes later rather than sooner,’ he said.
I thought I’d better start to earn my pay. ‘I saw Honnister this afternoon. He tells me he didn’t get much change out of you this morning. Don’t you have any idea why Gillian should be attacked?’
‘No,’ he said colourlessly.
I studied him carefully. His jacket was much better cut than Benson’s but no amount of fine tailoring could hide the slight bulge under his arm. ‘You haven’t had threatening letters or anything like that?’
‘Nothing like that,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m at a loss to understand it.’
I felt like asking him, ‘Then why carry a gun?” My problem was that I didn’t know why he was on our files. Men were listed for many reasons, and to be listed did not make them villains – far from it. The trouble was that no one would tell me which class Ashton came into, and that made this job damned difficult. Difficult to know how to push at him; difficult to identify the cranny into which to push the wedge that would crack him.
But I tried. I said practically. ‘Then the reason must lie somewhere in Gillian’s own life. Some crowd she’s been mixed up with, perhaps.’
He became instantly angry. ‘Nonsense!’ he said sharply. ‘That’s a monstrous suggestion. How could she get mixed up with types like that without me knowing? The type who could do such a dreadful thing?’
I was acting the part of the impartial onlooker. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said judiciously. ‘It happens all the time judging by what we read in the newspapers. The police arrest a kid and uncover a whole series of offences, from mainlining on heroin to theft to get the cash to feed the habit. The parents are shocked and plead ignorance; they had no idea that little Johnny or little Mary was involved. I believe them, too.’
He took a deep breath. ‘For one thing, Gillian isn’t a kid; she’s a grown woman of twenty-six. And for another, I know my family very well. You paid me a compliment last night: you said I’d brought up Penny too well. That goes for Gillian, too.’ He drove his toe viciously into the turf. ‘Would you think that of Penny?’
‘No, I don’t think I would.’
‘Then why should you think it of Gillian? It’s bloody ridiculous.’
‘Because Penny didn’t have acid thrown in her face,’ I reminded him. ‘Gillian did.’
‘This is a nightmare,’ he muttered.
‘I’m