The Fighting Agents (Men at War 4)

"Just lucky, I guess," Kennedy said.

"And just for the hell of it, Colonel, if that were a check ride, you would have passed it."

They smiled at each other again.

"Let's go see if we can make Bitter blush again," Douglass said.

[FOUR]

Canidy didn't see the policeman with his hand held up until he was almost on him.

He had been too busy watching the road in front of him. It had been a long time since he had ridden a bicycle, and while it was true, he had found out, that once you learned how, you never forgot, it was also true that pedaling a bicycle required muscles he hadn't used in a long time. Even moving as slowly as they had been riding, his calves and upper thighs were heavy with exhaustion.

And the road was covered with frozen slush, which caught the wheel of the bicycle when it rode in one of the ruts. He had taken four spills, and one of them was a bad one, throwing him heavily on his right shoulder and bruising his right knee There was no chance to stop before he got to the policeman, although he made a valiant effort. And, he saw, there was no place to run either, no corner to duck around. The policeman had appeared from nowhere because he had been inside a small, wooden guard shack almost hidden by the buttresses of the Arpad Bridge. There was nothing ahead but the bridge itself, and if the policeman couldn't run him down on foot, which seemed likely, then he would have no trouble shooting at him.

The policeman got out of his way, as Canidy locked the hand brakes and skidded to a stop on the icy slush, the bike slipping out from under him.

He heard Ferniany laugh behind him as Canidy fell to his knees.

And then the policeman said something. Canidy had no idea what he said, but he thought there was a tone of laughter in it Canidy got to his feet, picked up the bicycle, and walked to where the policeman was now examining Ferniany's identity documents. Canidy rested the bicycle against his leg, reached inside his ragged shepherd's coat for his papers, and held them ready in his hand until the policeman was ready to take them.

He looked toward the far end of the bridge. He could not tell if there was another policeman in another hidden shack at the far end. Probably not. The Arpad Bridge crossed a branch of the Danube between Pest and Margit Island.

The Margit Bridge crossed the other branch of the Danube to Buda. If there was another guard shack, it would be on the Margit Bridge, not at the end of this one If it became necessary to kill this policeman--by breaking his neck or cutting his throat--it would still be possible to continue across the Danube here.

The policeman handed Ferniany's papers back and turned to Canidy. He was shaking his head He said something. Canidy had no idea what it was, but he shrugged i The policeman took his papers Canidy saw Ferniany take his garrote from his pocket The policeman returned Canidy's papers with what could have been A', courteous bow. Then he turned Canidy around and unfastened the straps of the rucksack Canidy had on his back. He came out with a small cheese and a j small sausage. I Canidy gestured that he was welcome to it. The policeman smiled and ' then politely fastened the straps on the rucksack. Then he went to Ferniany's , bicycle and began to unfasten the straps holding a limp rucksack over the fender. Canidy put his hands up his sleeves, hoping it looked as if he were trying to warm his hands He jerked the strap around the hilt of his Baby FaiP |

hairn free and tested to see if he could quickly get it out of its sheath. It was a dagger that had been developed by Captain Bruce Fairhairn of the Shanghai Municipal Police. The "Baby" was the smaller of two versions and was used when concealment was desirable.

Fulmar and Whittaker had given him a quick course in assassination. Neither of them liked the garrote. ("What if the wire gets bung on a button or something?" Fulmar had calmly argued.

"Or if be gets his fingers under the wire before you can bury it in his neck? Put your hand over his mouth and stick him behind the ear. As soon as you scramble his brains, you can let him go. It takes a hell of a long time to strangle somebody.") Whittaker's preferred technique of assassination was throat-cutting ("Once you cut into the throat, all they can do is gargle," Whittaker had said don't trust the itty-bitty point on the Fairhairn, especially the little one. You hit a bone or something, and it breaks, and there you are with your hand over the mouth of some highly pissed-off character you can't put down.") Canidy had decided the Fairhairn was best, because it was far more concealable than a throat-cutting knife, and because Jimmy Whittaker had somewhat reluctantly conceded that there was a lot of blood when you cut someone's throat and very little when you scrambled his brains Canidy felt bile in his throat at the prospect that he might now have to put theory into practice, but it did not become necessary. The policeman helped himself to a tub of butter from Ferniany's rucksack and waved them on They rode to the end of the bridge and then crossed Margit Island. He could see what looked to him like an amusement park closed for the winter: small wooden shacks in a line; an oblong building that could have concealed a dodger ride, a larger round building that almost certainly contained a merry-go-round There was no policeman at the Buda end of the Margit Bridge Two blocks into Buda, the cobblestone street became too steep and too slippery to pedal the bicycles, and they got off and pushed. And for some reason, here the slush had begun to melt (Canidy wondered about this and decided they were over a tunnel of some kind, maybe a sewer, that gave off enough heat to melt the frozen slush). So his feet, in rough leather work shoes and thick cotton socks, quickly became wet and then even colder than they had been Be

tween the Margit Bridge and Batthyany Palace, they passed two more policemen, but neither of them showed any interest in the bicyclists When Ferniany finally pushed his bicycle off the street and onto the sidewalk before the facade of what looked like a museum, Canidy was sweat soaked from exertion and annoyed that Ferniany seemed immune to both fatigue and cold.

The doorbell was just that, a handle which when pulled caused a bell somewhere inside the building to just audibly tinkle

By the time a small door built into the larger door opened a crack, Canidy had his breath back, but his sweat-soaked clothing had chilled, and he was shivering and his feet hurt.

A small old man with white hair and very bright eyes exchanged a few words with Ferniany, then opened the door to let them pass.

There were more cobblestones inside the door, and at the end of a passageway a courtyard. The little old man led them into a huge kitchen and said something to Perniany, apparently an order to wait. The kitchen, Canidy saw, was not in use. There was a huge icebox, and each of its half-dozen doors was wedged open. More important, none of the three wood-burning stoves held a fire.

A door opened, and a rather startling redhead came into the kitchen. Her hair, a magnificent mop of dark red, hung below her shoulders. She was wrapped in an ankle-length, somewhat bedraggled, Persian lamb coat. The hem of a woolen nightgown was exposed at the bottom, and her feet were in what Canidy at first thought were half Wellington boots, but which he saw after a moment were really sheepskin-lined jodhpurs.

She shook Ferniany's hand, and they had a brief exchange. Then she turned to Canidy. She spoke British-accented English.

"I am the Countess Batthyany," she said.

"How may I be of service, Major?"

"I'm Pharmacist," Canidy said.

Her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.

"You would be far more welcome," she said, "if I didn't suspect that you wouldn't be here unless there is trouble."

"Have you got any brandy?" Canidy said.