Seven Dials Page 0,146

what the circumstances. And it was that which ate at Pitt now with a hard, angry pain that he could no longer ignore. It must be now; there was just time before the court resumed-if Narraway was at home.

Pitt met him on the doorstep, dressed smartly in his usual perfectly tailored dark gray. Narraway stopped abruptly, his eyes wide, his face pale.

"What is it?" He caught his breath, his voice husky.

Pitt had never defied Narraway before, never even challenged him. He knew his own dependence upon Narraway too well, not only for his job in Special Branch, but for the guidance and the protection while he was feeling his way in learning a new skill. But the emotion inside him now had power to override all such careful considerations.

"Inside!" he said abruptly.

The wind was cold and there was a fine rain behind it. Narraway's face hardened. "This had better be important, Pitt," he said, now that his initial shock was controlled and the steel was back in his eyes.

"It is," Pitt answered between his teeth. Perhaps he would have been wiser to say it all out there on the doorstep. He knew it, even as he followed Narraway in and heard the door close. Narraway led the way across the hall into his study and swung around.

"Well?" he demanded. "You have ten minutes. After that I am leaving whether you are finished or not. The trial resumes at ten. I mean to be there." In the morning light through the large window, his face was ashen, the fine lines of strain and too little sleep marked harshly in the skin around his eyes and mouth.

"But the special new witness is dead," Pitt replied. "There'll be no revelations about Ayesha Zakhari's motive now. El Abd's suicide is almost as good as a confession."

"Almost," Narraway agreed tersely. "I still need to see the acquittal. What is it you want, Pitt?"

"Why do you suppose el Abd killed himself?" Pitt asked. He wished he were anywhere but here, doing anything but this. "He was on the brink of success."

"We knew he was guilty," Narraway said, but there was a fractional hesitation in his voice; perhaps no one but Pitt would have heard it.

Pitt stared at him. "And he was afraid? Suddenly? Afraid of what? That we would arrest him on the way into court and stop him from testifying?"

Narraway breathed in and out very slowly. "What are you saying, Pitt? There is no time for games."

If he did not say it now then the moment would be past, and he would live with the doubt forever.

"Convenient for us," he answered. "In fact, it has probably saved Suez." He held Narraway's gaze without blinking.

Narraway was very pale. "Probably," he agreed. Again there was the shadow across his face.

"Why would el Abd do that?" Pitt asked.

"I don't know. It makes no sense," Narraway admitted, still standing motionless in the middle of the floor.

"If I had..." Pitt said. "Or you..."

At last Narraway understood. The last vestige of blood drained from his face, leaving his skin like gray paper. "God Almighty! You think I killed el Abd!"

"Did you?"

"No," Narraway said quickly. "No, I didn't." He did not ask if Pitt had; he already knew the answer. He also knew that Pitt's question was genuine, and that it hurt him to ask. It was the doubt twisting inside him that drove him to speak. "Was he murdered?"

"Are you certain he was murdered?"

"Not beyond doubt. But I believe he was," Pitt replied. "It was done well, with great skill. Impossible to tell if the injuries were just before death or just after... a deliberate blow or accidental as he fell, or even from a passing ship. We'll prove nothing."

The shadow was there in Narraway's face again. "Who would kill him, and why?"

"Someone who knew of the massacre," Pitt replied. "And who would do anything, even commit murder and allow Ryerson to hang for it, rather than see the truth exposed, and face what it will cost."

Narraway was truly astounded. "Is that what you think?" he said, his voice cracking with incredulity. "That I want Ryerson to hang?"

"No, I don't think you do," Pitt said honestly. "I think you hate it. I think the guilt tortures you, but you'll let him hang rather than expose the massacre and lose Egypt."

Narraway did not reply. The silence hung in the air like a gulf of darkness between them.

"Don't use my few minutes left for this," Pitt said, not moving from his position blocking