A Prospect of Vengeance by Anthony Price

they?’
    She had asked him to remember. So, once again, he remembered what Reg Buller had said out of her hearing. ‘Reg is good—yes.’
    ‘But not quite accurate this time.’ Scoring a point always pleased her. ‘Because I think the official title of the Clinton-Butler organization is “Research and Development ” . Although, of course, that doesn’t really mean anything—it’s just a useful bit of jargon, to put you off. Because everyone’s got an “R & D” section now—it’s like having a “computer facility”, with a “systems manager”, even if you’re putting beans into tins—all flumdiddle, darling.’
    ‘Flumdiddle’ must be a new word in Jenny’s circle. But. nevertheless, he was beginning to smell the marrow from the broken bone. ‘So what does it mean, then?’
    ‘Well … I’m by no means quite sure, darling—as I keep saying.’ Knowing him, she was properly cautious still, in spite of all her certainties. ‘But suppose—just suppose … that alongside all the little old secret services that we know and love by their initials and numbers … alongside all of them, there was another one, that we didn’t know was there. Like, say, a sort of parallel world, in those science-fiction stories, almost—?’ She cocked an eye at him. ‘Not very big—really rather small—? But more secret, more exclusive—? Say … just responsible to the Prime Minister—the Cabinet Office? Of the Intelligence Sub-Committee of the Joint Chiefs? Or—‘
    She wasn’t beginning to frighten him. She was frightening him. ‘Doing what?’
    She shrugged. ‘Doing whatever it was told to do. Doing what comes naturally—I don’t know … I tell you, I’m not sure yet … Trouble-shooting? Or maybe trouble-making.’ She blew a strand of hair which had fallen across her face. ‘Because … as well as being very secret, I do rather get the impression that it may not be too popular in certain circles, whatever it is—whatever it does, exactly—‘ She seized the fallen strand and tried to push it back on top, releasing a whole cascade in the process ‘—damn!’
    Ian accepted the diversion gratefully. That last revelation at least told him something about her source. Indeed, it fitted into the original dialogue she’d eavesdropped on to make a familiar pattern. In any investigation, the enemies of the subject of the investigation—or even, if the subject was an organization of some sort, any disaffected members within it—were prime sources of information. And … although this source sounded more like an outsider than an insider … it was hardly surprising that the ‘Clinton-Butler’ organization had its enemies, even on its ‘own’ side, never mind among its proper and official opponents.
    ‘Well?’ Jenny abandoned the wreckage of her bird’s-nest. ‘What do you say to all that then, Ian?’
    Its opponents ! he thought, staring suddenly at the window with a stab of disquiet. He had somehow taken it for granted that those watchers (if they were there—?) would be Special Branch, if not MI5. But they could be—who?
    ‘Yes.’ She grinned happily. ‘It does account for our sudden popularity, doesn’t it, darling?’
    ‘That’s not the word I was thinking of.’ At least he hadn’t betrayed his fear. ‘Is this what you told Woodward? Or Parsons?’
    The grin twisted. ‘Oh, come on, darling! As our Reg might say, “Would I do that, Mr Robinson?” Of course not.’
    ‘So what did you tell them?’
    She sighed. ‘What did I say to them? Well, I said to Dick: “Richard, darling … do you recall that nice Civil Servant named Philip Masson, who was tragically lost at sea, when he fell off his yacht in the Channel nine or ten years ago?” And he said: “Jenny darling, that wouldn’t be the same fellow whose body has just turned up in a wood somewhere, without his lifebelt?”’ She smiled. ‘I was very circumspect, you see.’
    ‘Get on with it, Jen.’
    ‘All right, all