and recruit me.” When Ballard did not reply, Hugh went on, “I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I’m not interested, Alex. I was never more than an amateur. I have anotherlife to lead now. And now we’re at peace with France, I intend to enjoy it.”
“The chief’s talking of retiring, you know.”
“Colonel Langley? Retired? I find that hard to believe. He has the energy of a man half his age. Besides, it’s the only life he knows.”
Ballard laughed. “It’s true all the same. He came into some money recently, when his cousin died, and that may have something to do with it. Now he can afford to retire.”
“He’ll be a hard man to follow. And just in case you think I’d be interested in Langley’s job, you can forget that too.”
Ballard looked as though he might say more, hesitated then gestured with one hand, encompassing the whole room. “Is this the life you want, your books and Roman artifacts?”
Hugh sat back in his chair and smiled as his friend looked around his library. Fragments of Roman marbles littered every available flat surface. The untidy pile of books on his desk, all opened at noteworthy places, was matched by an equally untidy pile of books on the floor. On top of the high bookshelves were marble busts of various Roman dignitaries. Pinned to the wall between two windows was a large map of Bath with sections circled in black ink.
“That about sums it up.”
Ballard rose and wandered over to the map of Bath. “I remember,” he said, “that you were once a great admirer of Napoleon.”
“That was before he got too big for his boots. And now that he has been stopped, my job is finished.” Hugh’s curiosity was rising. “What I can’t understand is whyyou’re still in the game. You’re an amateur like me, Alex. When the war ended, you couldn’t wait to get back to your family and that estate of yours in Sussex. You wanted to raise horses. What made you change your mind?”
Ballard turned from scrutinizing the map and shrugged. “We were tying up loose ends, you know how it is, when something came up.”
“Then something else came up after that?”
Ballard grinned. “That about sums it up.”
“And now?”
Ballard looked at Hugh, measuring him with his eyes. Finally, he said, “In the last month, we’ve lost four crack agents in Paris. Something big is going on, Hugh. The only thing is, we don’t know what or who is behind it.”
There was a prolonged silence as Hugh considered Ballard’s words. He was very curious. But one question would lead to another, and before he knew it he would be in it up to his neck. That’s how he’d been recruited the last time. He had different plans for his life now.
He allowed himself one last question. “Anyone I know?”
“No. They were all French, all Maitland’s people. As you can imagine, he’s out for blood.”
At the mention of Maitland’s name, Hugh’s head came up. Richard Maitland had been recruited at the same time as Alex and he. They’d been colleagues, but that was the only thing they’d had in common. Maitland was a dour, cantankerous Scot who despised privilege in all its manifestations. He was supposed to be good at his job, but Hugh had regarded his methods as brutal and wanted nothing to do with them. He and Maitland could never work together.
“So Maitland kept his group active after the rest of us got out of it?”
“It was a precautionary measure,” replied Ballard mildly. “And it paid off. They were on to something before they were wiped out.”
Wiped out
. Once, he could have used those words as casually as his friend, but now they made him wince. He’d been away from the game too long. “I’m sorry about Maitland’s agents,” he said. “What was their assignment?”
Ballard shook his head. “We don’t know, and anyway, this is Maitland’s operation. I don’t have all the facts. Even if I did, you know I can’t tell you more without knowing where you stand. I’ve told