‘Now what the hell does that mean?’ said Joe.
‘I think it means that the grand strategy should be put in the hands of one of the Heaven Born, not left in the hands of a humble cavalry major on attachment to the Scouts.’
‘An Indian Civil Servant, you mean?’
James’s face had cleared as he spoke and he almost laughed as he replied. ‘He said, “Now who can I think of? Who’s available?” Oh, Joe! You’re going to like this! An official with adequate powers is not only available but in situ! Know who he meant? None other than the Warren Hastings of the twentieth century – Edwin Burroughs!’
Joe was aghast. ‘Good God! Didn’t you explain to him that this is the same Edwin Burroughs whose name has risen several places to top the list of suspects? How can he possibly lead the mopping-up operation if he’s under suspicion?’
James fixed Joe with a bleak but resolute stare. ‘Look, Joe. None of us murdered Zeman if that’s what you’re implying. And I wish you’d stop harping on that. We have the opinion of Grace Holbrook on this – death by natural causes or misadventure at the worst if the theory about the arsenic is correct – and I’d be obliged if you’d leave it there. As you said yourself, we oughtn’t to be stampeded into a barmy bit of theorizing just because Iskander wasn’t happy with the official decision. And with this in mind, I think you should now go to Burroughs and explain what’s happened.’
‘Correction,’ said Joe. ‘You can go and explain.’
‘Further correction,’ said James. ‘We’ll go together.’
They set off to bang on Burroughs’ door.
‘Come!’ an irascible voice called.
They stepped inside to find Burroughs sitting up in bed, bottle of bismuth tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other, gold-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose, pink with indigestion, girt in a pair of broad-striped pyjamas.
‘I’ve been sitting here,’ he said without preamble, ‘like a damn fool, hoping that somebody would come and tell me what the hell’s going on. So I could say in a manner of speaking I’m glad to see you. What have you to tell me?’
‘Morning, Sir Edwin,’ said Joe. ‘Quite a lot to tell you one way and another.’
‘Well, keep it short. There’s only one thing in which I’m seriously interested,’ Sir Edwin interrupted, ‘and that is – just how soon can it be arranged for me to leave? I have work to do in Delhi which really cannot be put on one side. I hadn’t reckoned to be away from my desk for more than a day or two but I’ve now been away – thanks to the delay in Peshawar – for a week. I really need to get back. Now, you were saying?’
‘There’s been a bit of a change,’ James Lindsay began tentatively.
‘A change affecting your status in the affair,’ Joe supplied. ‘A change affecting my status too, for that matter.’
‘What the devil’s that supposed to mean?’ said Burroughs. ‘I’ve done what I came here to do which is to assess the present position in this part of the NWFP and all I have seen so far persuades me that the so-called Forward Policy has been a mistake and I shall continue to say so as soon as I can get back to Delhi.’
‘It’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Joe and they explained.
Burroughs’ face changed from pink to white and back again. He sat up in bed and gobbled. Disjointed words and phrases came across.
‘Disgraceful . . . ridiculous . . . incompetent . . . no concern of mine . . . purely local difficulty . . . I’ve got better things to do . . .’
In a pause in his tirade James said, ‘Sandilands has prepared this letter for Iskander Khan. The text has been checked and approved by Sir George Jardine. In the changed circumstances, we need your approval and your signature. With this I think I can get the letter into his hands although of course, as you will appreciate, his present whereabouts are still unknown.’
‘My approval? I don’t approve!’
‘I’m ready to send this letter on its way – time is of the essence – and I do now need your authority to do so,’ said James. He passed it to Burroughs with a pen and waited for him to countersign it.
Burroughs sank back among his pillows. ‘This,’ he said petulantly, ‘is precisely the situation I did not want. I hold you entirely responsible, Lindsay, for having let this arise. And I shall say so!’
As he spoke a drone began to grow in the sky above them.
‘What the devil’s that?’ said Burroughs suspiciously.
‘Aerial reconnaissance.’