Gavin Lyall: The Crocus List

George fidgeted in his chair, not wishing to come to terms with death just yet. "Yes, but you called us down here…"

"Of course. You must be very busy men." The Director bounced himself back in his chair. "We had a visit from your Security people yesterday, asking if we had an American patient or somebody who took telephone calls from America. I told them we hadn't-and how do you know if somebody's calling from America now, with this direct dialling? It could be just from the village, for all you can tell… But after they'd gone, I thought of a patient who'd lived some time in Canada, which had left him with something of an American accent, and a niece in Montreal-I tried to contact the people who'd come here, but I got put through to you… I do hope I'm not wasting your time."

"I'm sure you're not," George said. "So this man…"

"Joseph Adams."

Maxim handed over the photograph of Tatham that Agnes had taken from Clare Hall's house. "Yees," the Director said, frowning. "I think so. Of course, he's younger in this…"

"Can we see him?" George asked.

"Oh no." The Director was surprised. "He died three, nearly four months ago. His niece came over for the cremation service."

After a moment, Maxim said: "A tall woman, grey for her age, hair swept back over-"

"Yes, that's her. D'you know her? A charming lady."

George had been counting back. "Dead-all the time. From before the Russian proposals."

Maximshook his head slowly. "He must have passed on the List, maybe when he knew he was dying."

"Did you ever think," George asked the Director, "that your Mr Adams might not be Mr Adams?"

"Mr Harbinger, Major-1 imagine both your jobs put you in charge of other people. I am in charge of people who are going to die, within three months at the outside. I run, you might say, a crammer's course for death or eternity. It's not for me to choose which, I just help them come to terms with their own choice. Their future is so short, I can hardly waste time on the past. "

He thought for a moment. "He talked of going onmissions, I think he meant the wartime sort, and having to leave everything behind. He said that in the end, he'd left God behind. And had been looking for Him again. I know he's spent the last few years in various Church retreats around the country…

"People can become strongly religious in two ways, I find. Mostly it's a sense of the love of God, but sometimes it's hatred of the Devil. Such people really can spend their lives fighting evil, seeing it everywhere, in everything. I think it may be the Devil's subtlest temptation, because you devote your life to him. In the shadows."

"Mr Adams spent a long time in the shadows," George said evenly.

"I don't think I want to know more about him. But you mentioned a list… I hope this can be treated in confidence, although I'm not doing so myself…"

"Don't worry."

"Thank you. He gave me a letter for his niece-this was very near the end. He died of pneumonia, it was a bit messy… the envelope got stained and I took the letter out to put it in a new one… I shouldn't have read it, but all it said was 'Destroy the List'."

"Only she didn't," George said, speaking loud against the wind. "She sent the List to Ferrebee, I'd think, and told him to bring the clan together. Maybe posing as a cut-out for her father-I doubt we'll ever know."

The small plaque on the pine tree read: Here are scattered the ashes of Joseph Adams and the dates of birth and death.

Maximshuffled a foot among the long grass of the overgrown churchyard.

"She couldn't put up a proper monument to him," George went on, "so she erected a bloody international crisis in his memory. Which he'd decided he didn't want."

The east wind was still holding, thrashing the nettles against their legs at the rickety lychgate as they walked back towards the hospice.

"If it had been him running it," Maxim said, "I wonder if we'd ever have caught them. He sounded better than us."

They had to pass the glassed-in verandah where a few well-wrapped patients sat staring out through the pines to the grey sea. They didn't look at Maxim and, after one glance, he didn't look at them.