Destination Unknown - Agatha Christie [64]
Peters said slowly:
‘Yes, I know. But–’
‘Tom, at any rate, wants desperately to get away from here.’
‘Tom mayn’t know what’s good for him.’
Suddenly Hilary remembered what Tom had hinted at to her. If he had disposed of secret information he would be liable, she supposed, to prosecution under the Official Secrets Act–that, no doubt, was what Peters was hinting at in his rather embarrassed way–but Hilary was clear in her own mind. Better to serve a prison sentence than remain on here. She said, obstinately:
‘Tom must come too.’
She was startled when Peters said suddenly, in a bitter tone:
‘Have it your own way. I’ve warned you. I wish I knew what the hell makes you care for that fellow so much.’
She stared at him in dismay. Words sprang to her lips, but she checked them. She realized that what she wanted to say was, ‘I don’t care for him. He’s nothing to me. He was another woman’s husband and I’ve a responsibility to her.’ She wanted to say, ‘You fool, if there’s anybody I care about, it’s you…’
III
‘Been enjoying yourself with your tame American?’
Tom Betterton threw the words at her as she entered their bedroom. He was lying on his back on his bed, smoking.
Hilary flushed slightly.
‘We arrived here together,’ she said, ‘and we seem to think alike about certain things.’
He laughed.
‘Oh! I don’t blame you.’ For the first time he looked at her in a new and appraising way. ‘You’re a good-looking woman, Olive,’ he said.
From the beginning Hilary had urged him always to call her by his wife’s name.
‘Yes,’ he continued, his eyes raking her up and down. ‘You’re a damned good-looking woman. I’d have noticed that once. As it is, nothing of that kind seems to register with me any more.’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well,’ said Hilary drily.
‘I’m a perfectly normal man, my dear, or I used to be. God knows what I am now.’
Hilary sat down by him.
‘What is the matter with you, Tom?’ she said.
‘I tell you. I can’t concentrate. As a scientist I’m shot to pieces. This place–’
‘The others–or most of them–don’t seem to feel like you?’
‘Because they’re a damned insensitive crowd, I suppose.’
‘Some of them are temperamental enough,’ said Hilary, drily. She went on, ‘If only you had a friend here–a real friend.’
‘Well, there’s Murchison. Though he’s a dull dog. And I’ve seen a good deal of Torquil Ericsson lately.’
‘Really?’ For some reason Hilary felt surprised.
‘Yes. My God, he’s brilliant. I wish I had his brains.’
‘He’s an odd sort of person,’ said Hilary. ‘I always find him rather frightening.’
‘Frightening? Torquil? He’s as mild as milk. Like a child in some ways. No knowledge of the world.’
‘Well I find him frightening,’ repeated Hilary obstinately.
‘Your nerves must be getting upset, too.’
‘Not yet. I suspect they will, though. Tom–don’t get too friendly with Torquil Ericsson.’
He stared at her.
‘Why ever not?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a feeling I have.’
Chapter 17
I
Leblanc shrugged his shoulders.
‘They have left Africa, it is certain.’
‘Not certain.’
‘The probabilities point that way.’ The Frenchman shook his head. ‘After all, we know, do we not, for where they are bound?’
‘If they are bound for where we think, why start the journey from Africa? Anywhere in Europe would be simpler.’
‘That is true. But there is the other side of it. No one would expect them to assemble and start from here.’
‘I still think there’s more to it than that.’ Jessop was gently insistent. ‘Besides, only a small plane could have used that airfield. It would have to come down and refuel before crossing the Mediterranean. And where they refuelled some trace should have been left.’
‘Mon cher, we have instituted the most searching inquiries–everywhere there has been–’
‘The men with the Geiger counters must get results in the end. The number of planes to be examined is limited. Just a trace of radio-activity and we shall know that is the plane we are looking for–’
‘If your agent has been able to use