Алистер Маклин - Borrowed Time

‘I thought the training was much the same for police and government law enforcers.’

‘Philpott believes people trained in government agencies lack the policeman’s out-on-the-street understanding of criminals. Cops are also better at keeping in mind the requirements of the law, especially in the way evidence has to be gathered and how it’s put before the courts.’

‘You think he’s right about that?’

‘Essentially, yes. On the other hand, Philpott occasionally uses the kind of undisciplined guerrilla tactics that no cop or G-man would get away with.’

‘So he’s a walking set of contradictions.’

Mike nodded. ‘That’s one label you could pin on him.’

Ram had gone to the window. He stood there listening.

‘What’re you doing?’

‘You’ll find out in a minute.’ He went back to the fax machine. ‘Philpott’s certainly got interesting impulses.’ He held up a sheet of paper. ‘This is a communiqué from UN Information and Services in New Delhi. It tells me that as a result of a snap decision by Director Philpott of UNACO, followed by rapid interdepartmental negotiations earlier today, we are due to have another visit from the Sikorsky.’

‘When?’

‘Any minute now.’

‘What’s it about?’

Ram winked. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer a surprise.’

Mike stood up and drained his glass. As he put it down Ram held up a finger. ‘I hear it. Let’s get outside and shut the door before the dust covers everything.’

It was a cold, starry night with a crescent moon almost directly overhead. Mike and Ram stood with their backs against the front wall of the cabin, hugging themselves against the icy breeze as the black helicopter descended, deafening them with its noise, throwing up a whirlwind as first one wheel touched down, then the other.

The door swung open and a bag was thrown out. Mike peered past his shielding hand to see who had arrived. He saw boots, a flapping black coat and the top of a man’s head bent low as he stepped out and snatched up the bag.

The helicopter door closed and a second later it was rising again, powering away from them, turning in a wide arc southward. The new arrival walked right up to Mike, who still couldn’t see him for the wind and the dust.

‘This is getting monotonous, Michael.’

Mike blinked a couple of times and saw the grinning face of Lenny Trent.

‘Lenny! What the–’

‘Amazing, isn’t it? For years I see nothing of you, then we start bumping into each other all over the place.’

As the dust settled Ram opened the cabin door and beckoned them in. Lenny stood in the living room, flushed, combing his fingers through his hair.

‘Somebody tell me what’s happening,’ Mike said.

‘Be glad to.’ Lenny took off his coat and dropped it on the back of an easy chair. He removed his steel-framed glasses, wiped them with his scarf, put them on again. ‘Just as soon as there’s a drink working itself into my bloodstream.’

Ram handed him a jigger glass half full of bourbon.

‘You have a fine memory there, old buddy.’

‘You two know each other?’ Mike said.

‘Ten years,’ Ram said, ‘give or take.’

‘I have been known to wander these fragrant slopes,’ Lenny said.

‘So why are you here now?’

‘Mr Philpott called me in Seattle with a couple of questions about the possible location of drug routes through the Vale of Kashmir. I accommodated him, and I added that you and I had just talked about the same thing. He was intrigued to learn how far back we went, and right there and then, while he was on the line, he did some out-loud thinking.’

‘Another idiosyncrasy,’ Mike told Ram.

‘In a nutshell,’ Lenny said, ‘he explained that he needed police liaison on this job, and normally he would have sent out C.W. Whitlock as part of the team. But he’s got C.W. on something important in New York, so he wondered if I would consider secondment – without loss of status, of course – to this here mission.’

‘Did he give you time to think about it?’ Mike said.

‘Oh, sure. He gave me from then until he was ready to hang up. I told him I was almost through with the job in Seattle, which would now be handled through the courts by the police and the DA’s office, but I added I would have to clear things with my own immediate superiors.’

Mike was nodding. ‘He told you not to worry about that, he would fix it.’

‘Right. And he did. And here I am. I’ve an appointment the day after tomorrow with the Chief of Police at Srinagar. He’ll give me an overview of developments in local drug shipping, and I’ll swap him a few names he could use, and we should get along just fine.’

‘That’s going to be your job here? Police liaison?’

‘Among much else, Mike. I don’t like staying too narrow. Linking and co-ordination are the things I do best out here, so that’s what I’ll concentrate on.’ Lenny took a gulp of bourbon. ‘Is there a schedule of events I can fall in with between now and when I visit the police?’

‘We’ve a dinner date,’ Ram said, holding up another fax. ‘Dr Arberry. He’s an American who settled here a couple of years ago.’

‘He’s doing big things with his public medical centres,’ Mike told Lenny. ‘Right now his foundation is setting up a free hospital for the disadvantaged people of the region. Reverend Young thought highly of him.’

‘They told me what happened to Alex Young,’ Lenny said. ‘I met him a time or two. Nice guy.’ He turned to Ram. ‘So why do you think Dr Arberry has sent out a dinner invite?’

‘He heard about the arrival of a UN fact-finder,’ Ram said.

‘That would do it. If I were in his place I’d want all the UN and Interpol contacts I could make.’

‘He wants us to join him tomorrow at eight. I’m sure he’d be happy to have another guest along. What’s your cover, Lenny?’

‘Intelligence co-ordinator to the Security Council.’ Lenny smiled. ‘Sounds glossy, huh? The Council approved it, too. What plans do you have for tomorrow daytime?’

‘More damned walking, probably,’ Mike said.

‘We’ve been on recon,’ Ram explained. ‘Getting Mike au fait with the terain.’

‘And the patterns of casual murder,’ Mike added.

‘I can show you some probable drug routes, if you like,’ Lenny offered.

‘Would Paul Seaton be likely to use any of them?’

‘Who can say? Maybe I’ll know more about that when I’ve talked with the police.’

‘Paul Seaton?’ Ram said.

Lenny sighed. ‘It’s a long story. But I’m sure that won’t stop Mike telling it.’

After an overnight stay in the town of Manali, at a boarding house run by a couple from Yorkshire, Sabrina drove directly north, through scrub land and flat farm country, along roads scarcely wider than the car’s wheelbase. Sticking to her brief, she stopped wherever she saw a community and asked directions, all the time evaluating the people and the social divisions. It wasn’t easy to distinguish signs of criminal infiltration and political coercion in territory where all of the people appeared equally poor, but Sabrina had her orders.

Late in the afternoon she arrived at Palanjal, fifteen kilometres south of the Kashmir border, and there she began to see a difference. Palanjal was a medium-sized town with a population of perhaps twenty thousand. The difference here was that social divisions were visible. Some people were better dressed than others; better nourished, too; and on the sidewalks there appeared to be a rule of precedence, the poorer, shabbier citizens automatically making way for the others.

Sabrina stopped for petrol at a wayside station. The attendant spoke English, but he was not keen to engage in conversation. Sabrina persevered. She explained that she was doing a survey in the area, estimating the cumulative effects of weather and pollution on the environment.