Sion Crossing by Anthony Price Read Free Book Online Page B

washed-out grey eyes narrowed. “And he’s got something I want an expert to look at, to see whether it smells right, or it smells wrong.”
    Foolish! thought Latimer. “Then you want a trained historian, sir.”
    “No.” The eyes fixed him implacably. “I want you , Mister Latimer. And I want you for two reasons. And one of them is because I think you’re the best, and I like the look of you. And the other … I’ll tell you that one when you report back to me.” He drew a breath. “But I tell you this, Mister Latimer: whatever you tell me—even if you fail—you’ll have a friend in me. And I never forget my friends, Mister Latimer.”
    Put like that, it was as much a threat as a promise. But put another way … it was both an unrepeatable opportunity to establish his credentials at the highest American level—and an irresistible chance to score a point against David Audley.
    “When do you want me to go, sir?”
    “As soon as possible. Bob here has all the details—tickets and expense money—” The Senator waved his hand “—yes, I know you’re not worried about that … but it saves time … My stepdaughter will meet you in Atlanta—she will look after you … She will fill you in on the details—the real details … You can trust her—she’s her mother’s daughter, by God!” The eyes hardened. “Just as I’m trusting you now, Mister Latimer—do you understand?”
    However foolish it was, it mattered to the Chairman of the Atlantic Defence Committee— that was what he had to understand!
    “Yes, sir.”
    What had he got to lose?

Chapter Three
Mitchell in London: Mischief
    “CURIOSITY?” JAMES CABLE considered his friend not without well-founded suspicion. “Vulgar curiosity?”
    “Not vulgar.” It was not going to be easy, thought Mitchell—not if it was going to be done right. Though ‘right’, in the circumstances, was hardly the right word for it.
    “Idle, then. And isn’t that the curiosity which kills cats?”
    It was certainly not going to be easy. “Not idle either.”
    “What sort of curiosity, then?”
    “It’s not really curiosity at all.” The one thing that he had going for him, decided Mitchell, was that James Cable was a decent, upright, honourable man, almost an old-fashioned naval officer—a pure Colonel-Butler-appointment. But also, Butler being Butler, nobody’s fool either. So, while he took responsibility as easily as he breathed air, nobody was going to push him around.
    “Oh?” Cable was one degree away from returning to his report and telling Mitchell to shove off.
    “Say ‘concern’ rather. Proper concern, James.”
    “Concern for the Honourable Oliver St John Latimer? Get away Paul!” Cable shook his head. “Not you!”
    “Why not? The Honourable Oliver … alias Fatso—”
    “That’s not quite fair. He’s not really so bad. And he’s damned clever—you must at least concede that, alias ‘Captain Lefevre’.”
    “I will concede nothing so far as Fatso is concerned, Lieutenant-Commander … Or should I say ‘Commander’, since such obsequious time-serving approbation renders your promotion inevitable? I will concede that —I’ll even put money on it: you will be carried upwards on his coat-tails when he becomes Deputy-Director.”
    Cable frowned. “You know something I don’t know?”
    “Very likely. I know he’ll be offered the job—much to his chagrin, since he was aiming at higher things. But he’ll take it. In fact, he may already have done so.”
    “You know too much, Mitchell.”
    “So I am often told. ‘Larned a little ’fore iver some lads was born, tho’ I never sarved in the Queen’s Navy, where I’m told yeou’m taught to use your eyes’.” Mitchell grinned. “The comings and goings of the last few days … and Fatso had a long session with Jack Butler on Thursday. And now there’s an envelope addressed to Jack in Fatso’s own fair hand, lying in Mrs Harlin’s in-tray and marked ‘Personal’—not