Free Disorderly Elements by Bob Cook

outside all the normal lines of communication. That doesn’t give much scope, but it occurred to me that you might be able to contact someone in the Company and make a few discreet inquiries on my behalf.”
    â€œWhat sort of inquiries?”
    â€œI want to know if they’ve heard about this story, and if they have, I’d like to see what they’ve managed to pick up. There’s no need to mention that virtually the entire network was blown or that it was an F-network. The network was based in Erfurt, and the leader’s name was Josef Grünbaum. Just say that Grünbaum was blown, and that you’d like to know how it happened.”
    Schofield frowned.
    â€œI’m not sure about this, Mike. Most of the Company people I know left Rome several years ago. I don’t know any of the new boys. Still, if you give me a couple of days, I might be able to find out something for you. Mind you, I’m not making any promises.”
    â€œI don’t expect any,” Wyman reassured him. “I was going to suggest that I get in touch with you again in about four days’ time. How does that suit you?”
    â€œWell, if I can’t get anything by then, you might as well give up on me. Okay, four days it is.”
    â€œSplendid,” Wyman beamed.
    â€œFurthermore,” Schofield said sternly, “if I actually find out who blew this Grünbaum fellow, I expect a free meal at the Savoy, courtesy of your friend Owen.”
    â€œI’ll put it to him,” Wyman said. “I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

Chapter Fifteen
    Hotel Flora
    Via Veneto
    Rome
    May12

    My dear Margaret,
    I hope you are well. The weather here is infinitely more agreeable than in London, and I am having a splendid time. Although I am only here for a day or two, I have still found the opportunity to visit several old friends in the neighbourhood.
    Did I ever tell you about Neville Tanner? I once helped out with his monograph on Aristotle’s Prior Analytics , and we became firm friends. He’s doing something or other at the British School, and we met for a drink this morning. He was most upset to hear about my removal from the College, and he says he will send a formal letter of protest to the Master. I doubt if it will do any good, but I thanked him for the gesture.
    Rome is as relaxed and unhurried as ever. (I believe the modern term for it is “laid back”.) I find it difficult to reconcile this mood with the hurried nature of my trip. Had it been possible, I would have liked to stay here for another week, but I doubt that our mutual friend in Percy Street would have approved.
    I expect to be back in London by the evening of the 16th. Perhaps we could have dinner somewhere, if that would suit you. I know I have been somewhat diffident lately, but I think you can appreciate why. A great deal has happened very quickly, and I haven’t adjusted to my circumstances as swiftly as I thought I would. I think I must be getting old. Please bear with me, and forgive the eccentricities of a disorientated don.
    Love,
    Michael.

Chapter Sixteen
    A NATOLI BULGAKOV SAT in his spacious office in Lowndes Street. Spread out across the desk before him were the documents that Mrs Hobbes had given him three days before.
    Earlier that day Bulgakov had been told by his KGB colleagues that Michael Wyman had left for Rome. Some months earlier, Bulgakov had placed Wyman’s flat under close observation, and the scrutiny now bore fruit. Wyman had been discreetly tailed as far as Heathrow Airport the previous morning.
    It was now obvious to Bulgakov that something important had happened in the Department. He knew enough about Wyman to realize that an impromptu flight to Rome was not part of Wyman’s routine work. He therefore had to make sense of the information given to him by Mrs Hobbes.
    Exhibit A was a photocopy of the item in the Thüringer Neueste Nachrichten relating the death of