A Perfect Spy

“Paper targets.”

“Does he now? And gets a high score then, does he, madam?”

“Tom says so.”

She glanced at Brotherhood and knew what he was thinking. Just let me go in and get him, gun or no. She was thinking much the same herself: Magnus, come out of there and stop making yourself so bloody ridiculous. The superintendent was speaking again, this time to Brotherhood directly.

“Now there’s a query from our disposal people this time, sir,” he said, as if it were all a little bit unreasonable but we must humour them. “Regarding this box device our friend is carrying with him. I’ve tried them in the Church Hall but they’re all a bit above the technicalities like, and they said to ask you. Our boys do appreciate they’re not allowed to know too much about it, but they would like the benefit of your wisdom regarding the charge it contains.”

“It’s self-consuming,” Brotherhood replied. “It’s not a weapon.”

“Ah, but could it be used as a weapon, put it that way, if it got into the hands of one who might for instance have lost the balance of his mind?”

“Not unless he put somebody inside it,” Brotherhood replied and the superintendent let out a mellow country laugh.

“I’ll tell that one to the boys,” he promised. “They like a joke up there, the boys do, it gets the tension out of them.” His voice fell and he spoke to Brotherhood alone. “Has our friend ever fired his gun in anger, sir?”

“It’s not his gun.”

“Ah, now you didn’t quite answer the question there, sir, did you?

“To my knowledge he’s never been in a shoot-out.”

“Our friend doesn’t get angry,” Mary said.

“Has he ever taken anybody prisoner, sir?”

“Us,” Mary said.

* * *

Pym had made the cocoa and Pym had put the new shawl over Miss Dubber’s shoulders although she said she didn’t feel the chill. Pym had chopped up the piece of chicken for Toby that he had bought at the supermarket as a treat for him, and if she had let him he would have cleaned out the canary’s cage as well; for the canary was his secret pride ever since a night when he had found it dead after Miss Dubber had gone to bed, and contrived, unknown to her, to exchange it for a live one with Mr. Loring of the pet shop. But Miss Dubber wanted no more fussing from him. She wanted him sitting beside her where she could keep an eye on him and listen to him reading Aunt Al’s latest letter from distant Sri Lanka, which came in yesterday, Mr. Canterbury, but you never had the interest.

“Is that Ali the dhobi who stole her lace last year?” she enquired sharply, interrupting him. “Why does she go on employing him if he stole from her? I thought we’d seen the last of Ali long ago.”

“I expect she forgave him,” said Pym. “He had all those wives, if you remember. She probably couldn’t bear to chuck him into the street.” His voice was very clear to him and beautiful. It was good to speak aloud.

“I do wish she’d come home,” Miss Dubber said. “It can’t be good for her, the heat, after all these years.”

“Ah but then she’d have to do her own washing, wouldn’t she, Miss D?” said Pym. And his smile warmed him as he knew it was warming her.

“You’re better now, aren’t you, Mr. Canterbury? I’m so glad. It’s got out of you, whatever it is. You can have a nice rest now.”

“What from?” said Pym gently, still smiling at her.

“Whatever you’ve been doing all these years. You can let somebody else run the country for a while. Did he leave you a lot of work to do, the poor gentleman who died?”

“I suppose he did really. It’s always difficult when you don’t have a proper handover.”

“But you’ll be all right now, won’t you? I can see.”

“I will when you say you’ll take that holiday, Miss D.”

“Only if you come.”

“I can’t do that. I told you! I’ve run out of leave!”

His voice had lifted more than he intended. She looked at him and he saw the scare in her face, which was how he had caught her looking at him ever since the green cabinet had arrived, or when he had smiled and pampered her too much.

“Well I’m not going,” she replied tartly. “I don’t like putting Toby into prison and Toby doesn’t like going to prison and we’re not going to do it just to please you, are we, Toby? You’re very kind but don’t mention it again. Is that all she says?”

“The rest is about the race riots. She thinks there are more on the way. I didn’t think you’d like it.”

“You’re quite right, I would not,” said Miss Dubber firmly and her eyes stayed on him as he crossed the room, folded the letter and put it in the ginger jar. “You can read it to me in the morning when I don’t mind so much. Why’s the square quiet? Why isn’t Mrs. Peel playing her television next door? She should be watching that announcer she’s in love with.”

“Probably gone to bed,” said Pym. “More cocoa, Miss D?” he asked, taking the mugs to the scullery. The curtains were drawn, but beside the window was an extractor fan that Pym had built into the wooden wall and it was made of transparent plastic. Putting his eye to it he quickly surveyed the square but saw no sign of life.