Patrick Petrella 05 Roller-Coaster by Michael Gilbert

Author:Michael Gilbert [Gilbert, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780755146819
Google: gfGyDgAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 1807463
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 1992-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

If Petrella had expected that Murdo Wintringham would be a second Poston-Pirrie, he could hardly have been wider of the mark. He remembered seeing him, once before, on television when he was doing a standin report for the BBC. On that occasion he had been speaking from somewhere in Manchuria. Since he had been enveloped in a fur hat with side flaps and had spent most of the time with his back to the camera, this was the first chance Petrella had had of getting a clear view of him.

He saw a face that was a map of planes and rugged contours. The left side was seamed and scarred, as though it had been sand-papered by an inefficient carpenter. The result of fire or frost-bite? It was a surprise when he spoke. His voice was soft, even conversational, yet seemed in some way more formidable than the Poston-Pirrie bark.

Petrella said, “Your editor tells me that you’ve been spending much of your time abroad. Europe, he said, and the Far East.”

“Recently Phnom Penh.”

“Which is in Cambodia?”

“It is. But out there it’s a penal offence to call it that. It is now the Khmer Republic.”

“My geography is sadly dated. I still find myself referring to the Persian Gulf.”

Wintringham passed that one up. He said, “You know, of course, why I’ve been called in?”

“I gather that it’s to satisfy your editor about the fate of your predecessor.”

Wintringham was leaning back in his chair at a dangerous angle. His thoughts seemed to have drifted away. He said, “And here’s an odd coincidence for you. Pirrie is said to have been hit and tumbled into the river. Right?”

“Tumbled in, certainly.”

“And almost the last thing I saw in Cambodia was a man being knocked on the head and slung into the Mekong River. People were trying to pull him out. I wanted to get close enough to take an action photograph. Unfortunately, the whole thing happened on the far bank and since that was held by the anti-Prince Noradam faction it would have been injudicious to cross over. Their soldiers tended to shoot first and talk about it afterwards. It was soldiers who were doing the pulling out. But he’d been knocked in by a policeman.”

As he added the last few words he jerked his chair forward and the comment came across like a sharp smash at the end of a leisurely rally.

Speaking slowly, to recover his balance, Petrella said, “If you weren’t close enough to get a picture, how do you know it was a policeman who hit him?”

“Oh, in that part of the world you can always tell. The soldiers slope about in any old outfit. The police are always dressed in neat uniform and move smartly. It’s part of their mystique. I think that before we go much further I shall have to ask you to switch off that instrument. Otherwise we shall have to continue our conversation in the back of my car.”

Petrella grinned, switched off the box that was standing unobtrusively among a pile of dockets, put it away in the desk cupboard and shut the door.

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