Part 38 (1/2)
They shook hands. Thomas was still cautious.
”From Switzerland to London? Or from the airport to here?”
”No matter. Either.” Whiteside sat in the armchair and studied the younger man. He sat with his legs crossed and both hands on the top knee.
”Was that your gorilla who picked me up?” asked Thomas.
”That's not very kind of you at all,” said Whiteside, 'attributing b.e.s.t.i.a.l characteristics to my a.s.sociate, Mr. Hunter.”
”Why am I here?” Thomas asked.
”Because you wanted to be,” laughed Whiteside.
”Good G.o.d, man, you were in Devon a few days ago asking leading questions, badgering the hall of records and trying to scare up the dead. Now don't tell me you don't want to be here where you can ask questions about Arthur Sandler and Leslie McAdam.”
”Then let's begin,” said Thomas.
”I don't like being held prisoner.”
”You're not.”
”I'm not under arrest?”
”You're free to leave at any time,” said Whiteside.
”There's the door. I'll escort you to the street if you prefer.”
Thomas studied the door and wondered if he sensed a trick.
”However,” said Whiteside, ”you'll find it rewarding to stay. We can have a most interesting conversation.”
”All right,” said Thomas. He settled back on the sofa.
”Intriguing,” said Whiteside absently.
”How something like this crops up after twenty-some years.”
”Excuse me?”
Whiteside's gaze shot back to Thomas.
”I'm retired, Mt. Daniels,”
he said.
”As far as the Foreign Office is concerned, I don't even exist anymore.
But this Sandler-McAdam problem was in my lap back in 1954. Nasty problem, really, though I don't expect that you know the half of it yet. My 'section,' shall we call it, was within M.I. Six and linked with the Chancellery of the Exchecquer. Or Treasury, as you'd term it.”
”Money, in any language ”Currency if you like,” said Whiteside.
”That's how I became involved with Arthur Sandler.”