The Tightrope Men / The Enemy

Denison stirred and unclasped his fingers. He straightened in his chair and stretched his arms, then he sighed deeply. My name is Harry Meyrick,’ he said.

THIRTEEN (#ulink_e7b08296-9267-5f51-9043-68511d27ca33)

Three days later Denison, descending for breakfast, bought a newspaper at the kiosk in the lobby and scanned it over coffee. Diana Hansen joined him, and said, ‘What’s new?’

He shrugged. ‘The world is still going to hell in a handcart. Listen to this. Item one. Two more skyjackings, one successful and one not. In the unsuccessful one – God save the mark – two passengers were killed. Item two – pollution. A tanker collision in the Baltic and a fifteen mile oil slick is drifting on to Gotland; the Swedes are understandably acid. Item three. There are strikes in Britain, France and Italy, with consequent riots in London, Paris and Milan. Item four …’ He raised his head. ‘… do you want me to go on?’

She sipped her coffee. ‘You sound a bit acid yourself.’

‘Just how would you feel in my circumstances?’ he asked a little grimly.

Diana shrugged. ‘Where’s Lyn?’

‘The young sleep late.’

‘I have a feeling she’s sharpening her claws, getting ready to scratch my eyes out,’ said Diana meditatively. ‘She’s made one or two odd remarks lately.’ She stretched over and patted Denison’s hand. ‘She thinks her daddy is getting into bad company.’

‘How right the child is.’

‘Child!’ Diana raised her eyebrows. ‘She’s only eight years younger than I am. She’s no child – she’s a healthy young woman with all her wits about her – so watch your step.’

Denison put his head on one side. ‘Of course!’ he said, somewhat surprised. Privately he thought that Diana was drawing the longbow a bit. He put her age at thirty-two which probably meant she was thirty-four; that would give her twelve years on Lyn, not much less than the fourteen years he had himself.

‘Carey wants to see you,’ said Diana. ‘If you leave the hotel, turn left and walk about three hundred yards, you’ll come to a place where they’re building a memorial or something. Be around there at ten o’clock.’

‘All right,’ said Denison.

‘And here’s your darling daughter.’ Diana raised her voice. ‘Good morning, Lyn.’

Denison turned and smiled appreciatively at Lyn’s chic appearance. It’s the money that makes the difference, he thought; the grand ideas of the rulers of the fashion world are apt to look tatty when filtered through the salary of a junior London typist. ‘Did you have a good night?’

‘Fine,’ said Lyn lightly, and sat down. ‘I didn’t expect to see you at breakfast, Mrs Hansen.’ She glanced sideways at Denison. ‘Did you sleep in the hotel last night?’

‘No, darling,’ said Diana sweetly. ‘I brought a message for your father.’

Lyn poured coffee. ‘What are we doing today?’

‘I have a business appointment this morning,’ said Denison. ‘Why don’t you two go shopping?’

A shadow briefly crossed Lyn’s face, but she said, ‘All right.’ Diana’s answering smile was sickly in its sweetness.

Denison found Carey with his rump buttressed by a coping stone and his back to the Royal Palace. He looked up at Denison’s approach and said brusquely, ‘We’re ready to move. Are you fit?’

Carey nodded. ‘How are you getting on with the girl?’

‘I’m tired of being Daddy,’ said Denison bitterly. ‘I’m only getting through by the skin of my teeth. She asks the damnedest questions.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘A nice kid in danger of being spoiled rotten – but for one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Her parents were divorced and it’s messed up her life. I’m beginning to realize what an unmitigated bastard Harry Meyrick is.’ He paused. ‘Or was.’ He looked at Carey. ‘Any news?’

Carey flapped his hand in negation. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Well, the mother is a rich bitch who ignores the girl. I don’t think Lyn would care if she dropped dead tomorrow. But Lyn has always had a respect for her father; she doesn’t like him but she respects him. She looks up to him like a … like a sort of God.’ Denison rubbed his chin and said meditatively, ‘I suppose people respect God, but do they really like him? Anyway, every time she tries to get near Meyrick he slaps her down hard. That’s no way to bring up a daughter and it’s been breaking her up.’

‘I never did like his arrogance myself,’ said Carey. ‘It’s the one thing that would have given you away in the end. You’re not bloody-minded enough to be Meyrick.’

‘Thank God for that,’ said Denison.

‘But you get on with her all right? As Meyrick?’

Denison nodded. ‘So far – but no future guarantees.’

‘I’ve been thinking about her,’ said Carey. ‘Suppose we took her to Finland – what would the opposition think?’

‘For God’s sake!’ said Denison disgustedly.

‘Think about it, man,’ Carey urged. ‘They’d check on her, and when they find out who she is they’d be bloody flummoxed. They might think that if you’re good enough to deceive Meyrick’s daughter you’re good enough to deceive me.’

Denison was acid. ‘That’s not far short of the mark. I had to tell you who I was.’

‘You can do it,’ said Carey. ‘It adds a bit of confusion, and there’s nothing like confusion for creating opportunity. Right now we need all the luck we can create for ourselves. Will you ask her if she’ll go with you to Helsinki tomorrow?’

Denison was troubled. ‘It’s all right for me,’ he said. ‘I’m going into this with my eyes open – but she’s being conned. Will you guarantee her safety?’

‘Of course I will. She’ll be as safe as though she were in England.’

It was a long time before Denison made his decision. ‘All right,’ he said resignedly. ‘I’ll ask her.’

Carey slapped him lightly on the arm. ‘Which brings us back to Meyrick’s character. As you said – he’s a right bastard. Bear that in mind when you’re handling her.’

‘You want her in Finland,’ said Denison. ‘I don’t. If I really act like her father she’s going to run and hide like she always has. Do you want that?’

‘I can’t say I do,’ said Carey. ‘But lean too far the other way and she’ll know you’re not Meyrick.’

Denison thought of the many ways in which he had hurt Lyn by his apparent forgetfulness. As in the case of her mascot, for instance; he had idly picked it up and asked what it was. ‘But you know,’ said Lyn in astonishment. He had incautiously shaken his head, and she burst out, ‘But you named him.’ There was a hurt look in her eyes. ‘You called him Thread-Bear.’

He laughed sourly. ‘Don’t worry; I’m hurting her enough just by being myself.’

‘It’s settled then,’ said Carey. ‘You have an appointment at Helsinki University tomorrow afternoon with Professor Pentti Kääriänen. Your secretary arranged it.’

‘Who the devil is he?’

‘He was one of Hannu Merikken’s assistants before the war. You are to introduce yourself as Merikken’s son and pump him about what Merikken was doing in his laboratory from 1937 to 1939. I want to find out if there’s been any other leakage about his X-ray researches.’ He paused. ‘Take the girl with you; it adds to your cover.’