“How does he feel about Roosevelt’s navy?”

“He has plans to deal with that too.”

“Ah. He feels it’s getting too big for its boots.”

“That’s not the problem. He admires ‘big.’ He would suggest increasing the size of the boots.”

“Can you see the pattern yet, Joe?”

“It’s emerging. Money, manufacture, legal knowledge, armed enforcement. Two more to go. Next one even I can spot. Provisioning.”

“Six. A Canadian, this one, of Dutch descent. King of the grain market. The Roman Empire thrived or foundered on the adequacy of its grain supplies. Circuses useless without the bread. The man with the key to the warehouse runs the world. No reason why it shouldn’t happen again. Van Hooter … Hoosen … something like that.”

“If you’re having trouble with his name I can’t wait to hear what you make of the last fellow in the lineup,” Joe remarked, raising one eyebrow. “My friendly pharmacist with the straw boater.”

“Not necessarily the least in villainy. Though he is an economist. I’ve put him over here because he’s more of an unknown quantity. To me at any rate. Now he’d answer to … ah …”

“Heimdallr Abraham Lincoln Ackermann,” Lydia supplied. Absorbed by the lineup of rogues, they hadn’t heard her come in. She was advancing on them, clutching a pile of glossy magazines in her hand. “I thought you ought to see these. Gracious!” she said. “Is this a coincidence? I don’t think so! I’d just found a photograph of that man in the Tatler. One of about four that may be of interest to you. I was going through the collection Vanessa keeps in her bedroom. My daughter is ballet-crazed, Cornelius. I’m not a hoarder but Vanessa’s as keen on the ballet as I used to be at her age, and when she’s away at school I keep all the copies of the ones with ballet items in them. The more scandalous the better as far as the girls are concerned. She adores Natalia Kirilovna so I had remembered we had some shots of her in stock. It occurred to me that if you’re looking for her killer, you might take a look at the men she was close to over the years. It must be someone she knows well. Coming out all this way to do it shows a high level of determination, wouldn’t you think? I say … may I speak freely or are you going to tell me to watch my tongue and not meddle in men’s affairs?”

“I take it men’s affairs are just exactly what you’re preparing to rub our noses in, Lyd.” Joe sighed.

“Go ahead, Lydia,” said Kingstone, encouraging. “You’ll find us shockproof and receptive.”

“Well, cast your eyes over these items. Flashbulb photos of high society dos, accompanied by informed, if breathless, commentary. This one’s taken at the Savoy ballroom. It features that gent there at the end of the row: Ackermann. Goodness, how could she! Not exactly Prince Siegfried is he?”

Joe peered at her magazine. “That’s definitely Natalia in the embrace of the King of the Norse Gods. Heimdallr looks better on the dance floor than he does in our rogues’ gallery,” he commented. “What’s that he’s doing? The Continental? Beautiful music, dangerous rhythm?”

“No. See where his left hand is? It’s the rumba. I expect dancing with a ballerina brings out the gigolo in you.”

“Well, these girls certainly make a feller look good in the spotlight. What’s the date of this? Mmm … four months ago …”

“You’re both dismissing him because you’ve caught him in mid hip-roll. It reduces him to something approaching our own human condition. We’d feel the same if anyone ever managed to snap Adolf Hitler Lindy-hopping.”

“Reassured?”

“Yes. But it’s never likely to happen. My Branchman, quoting one of his interesting sources of information, reports that this Ackermann, who’s quick-stepped his way into a position of influence with the Fascist government, has been overheard bragging to what he considered a safe pair of ears that he was ‘biding his time.’ When that upstart Hitler has done the dirty work and reestablished a strong and pure Germanic state, cleansing it of unions, communists, Jews and foreigners of the wrong type, the time will be ripe for a more intellectual, aristocratic leader to emerge.”

“One with international backing and friends in high places with open cheque books,” Kingstone muttered.

“Ah! You’ve caught up!” Lydia said. “Marcus has been saying as much ever since Hitler got himself made Chancellor. Well, before that, actually. But here, look—this is interesting. From six years ago. New York. ‘Ballet girls let their hair down and kick up their heels,’ it says. Taken at a charity ball given in honour of Diaghilev and his company by a New York socialite and fan, Mrs. P. L. Crispin. I saved it for the lady in the foreground doing the Charleston—Beata Boromine, who was the latest sensation then. But look—who do you see in the background? That’s Natalia again, isn’t it?”

“Yes. A very young Natalia. And that’s not me she’s dancing with. That’s …” Kingstone peered more closely. “Banker, upright family man and champion Nine Men’s Morris player P.L. Crispin making a rare appearance in public in support of his wife’s enterprise. Though he gets no billing here, I see.”

“He’s not a man who welcomes publicity. Bacchus had a hard time flushing him to the surface. Edited out? Suppressed? The man moves about the world—you’d think someone other than a society magazine would be able to catch him.”

“They own the press—or much of it—on both sides of the Atlantic, Joe. Charity balls, yacht races, opening nights at the opera—those are the only occasions they allow their image to be put before the public.” Kingstone’s expression was impossible to fathom as he looked again at the photograph of the young Natalia and asked calmly, “Is this how they do their recruiting?”

“One of their ways, I expect,” Joe replied. “I’d guess men of this consequence have a range of effective techniques available to them.”

“And we’re thinking we can dent the armour of men like these?” Looking down at the seven faces, for a moment Kingstone was doubtful.

“Every suit of armour has its chink,” was Lydia’s cheery contribution to a conversation she was trying to understand. “But it’s a very tedious business searching for it. I’ll tell you what you have to do if you want to destroy an organisation: you have to attack it in two places. Think of it as a weed. You have to dig out the roots and chop off the seedhead before it has a chance to germinate and scatter its spores to the four winds.”

“Got that, Cornelius? Will you take the roots or the head?” Joe affected a light tone. “Lydia, thank you for your horticultural insights. Always a pleasure. But …”

“You want me to let you get on with your planning. Right-oh. I’ll leave you with these magazines. I don’t know how you do your job, Joe, without reading them. Half the country’s villains are to be seen disporting themselves on the pages every month. Even the occasional policeman makes an appearance.” She explained to Kingstone, “Joe’s the only good-looking one they have on the books and he’s never unwilling to risk his reputation on the dance floor so he gets snapped quite often.”

“ALL THE SAME—SHE’S probably right, you know, and my question was a serious one,” Joe picked up when Lydia had left the room. “I volunteer to take the roots because that’s the level I operate at. Down where it’s dark and dirty. My men will have been busy over the weekend.” Joe’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “My desk will be piled high with fingerprinting data, surveillance reports, interview notes … I’m planning to put my uniform on, barge my way into that so-called health clinic, turn it upside down and generally do my job as a policeman. And I shall do it without asking advice or permission. I don’t want to risk a refusal.

“You, Cornelius, can take shelter under the nose of our king and our prime minister, no less. Monday. The first day of the conference. You may be bored silly but I want you to stay put right there in the hall where you’ll be safe enough, every day for as long as it lasts. Security in the hall will be as tight as it ever gets. Bacchus or I will take over for what remains of your day. I’ll slide you back into the Claridge’s system and into the care of Armiger. If you’re quite happy with that arrangement?”