“We can’t all do everything,” or something like that.
“I’m sorry, sir, my Italian’s a little rusty.”
Max saw a whisper of a smile appear on Elliott’s lips.
“It’s Latin. Virgil. From the Eclogues.”
“It means, just stick to your bloody job, Chadwick.” This from the fourth man in the room, the one with ginger hair and lobster-pink skin. They were the first words he’d spoken, and his accent screamed high birth, summoning up images of Henley Royal Regatta and riding to hounds and tea on the lawn at the family pile in the country. His pale blue eyes were the color of thick ice, and possibly just as hard.
“Tell me about Lilian Flint,” he drawled, with an air of cold command.
Max was momentarily thrown by the question. “What’s there to tell? She’s the deputy editor of Il-Berqa. She’s also very good at her job.”
“Well, you would know, given the amount of time you spend liaising with her.”
Max ignored the thinly veiled insinuation. “Yes, I suppose I’m better placed than most to make that judgment.”
“Her mother is in Italy, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s right. She was in Padua when Italy declared war. She was unable to make it home.”
“Home? I would have thought home was at her husband’s side.”
It wasn’t just the cold blue eyes, it was their steady, piercing scrutiny that was so unsettling.
“She’s not married.”
“As good as, though, wouldn’t you say?”
“I have no idea.”
“I believe he’s a professor of archaeology at the University of Padua.”
“I believe so.”
“And do you also believe it’s possible for a man to hold such a post at an Italian university if he isn’t in some way sympathetic to the regime?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Hazard a guess.”
Max generally burned a long fuse, but was struggling now to hold himself in check. He could see what was being done to him. He had boxed at Oxford; he had been on the receiving end of the irritating jabs designed to make you drop your guard and risk it all on a roundhouse.
“For what it’s worth,” he said icily, “I would stake my job, my reputation—my life, even—on Lilian’s loyalty.”
The ginger one seemed almost amused. “There’s really no need for such grandiloquence. Do you think for a moment she would be the deputy editor of Il-Berqa if we weren’t of the same mind?”
“So what, with respect, is your point?”
“My point, Major Chadwick, is this: we like her, we like what she does, we like the fact that the two of you work so well together. She’s inclined to sail a little close to the wind at times, but her readers value her forthright opinions, and it’s important that they’re permitted a vent for their frustrations. You seem to temper her more extreme tendencies.” He paused. “So you see, we’re quite content with the way things are, and it would be unfortunate if—how shall I put it?—those of a more prejudiced disposition were allowed to prevail on the question of her current employment.”
Diplomatic doublespeak, but the threat was plain and simple: back off or we pack her off.
Lilian’s job meant everything to her. She had dreamed of it since childhood; she had fought for it against the wishes of her family. It was her life, the one fixed point in her universe.
“I think I get your meaning.”
“Then you may go now.”
Max noted that Colonel Gifford wasn’t aggrieved by this man subverting his authority, as he had been with Elliott. In fact, he seemed almost in awe of him.
“I’ll see Major Chadwick out,” said Elliott, levering himself to his feet.
“There’s no need for that,” said the colonel.
“I’d like to.”
Colonel Gifford was about to object, but something in coppertop’s expression silenced him.
Max made a point of ignoring Hodges on the way out.
“That went well, don’t you think?” Elliott declared chirpily when they were alone in the corridor.
Max wasn’t in the mood for lightheartedness. “For God’s sake, Elliott, what the hell were you doing there?”
“They thought I might be in on it, knowing the two of you as I do. And I’ve got to say, I’m a little insulted I wasn’t in the loop.”
Max ignored the comment.
“They’re not going to do anything, are they?”
“I doubt it. Not with Upstanding about to leave the island.”
“And what happens when dead girls start showing up in Alexandria?”
Elliott hesitated. “I see you’ve been doing your research.”
“What happens?”
“Not our jurisdiction, old man.” He stretched out the vowels in a convincing parody of the ginger-haired chap.
“Who is he?”
“You know, under different circumstances I can see the two of you