Albatross (32 page)

‘I will, little Father.' Borisov walked back to the house with him. He had used the old Russian form of address to the ruler. So his people had called the Tsar. Zerkhov had not rebuked him.

‘Two roast beef and the trimmings, one saddle of lamb likewise. Two pints of light ale and a half bottle of white wine. The gentleman says you choose something for him.'

‘I'll speak to the wine waiter,' the old man said. ‘And the light ales are bottled or draught, sir?' His expression was disapproving as he asked the question. The roast rib of beef was especially succulent and tender. Light ale. He sucked his lips in and out in distress.

The marine called over his shoulder. ‘Bottled or draught for you, Bob?'

The reply came back from the sitting room. ‘Bottled.'

‘Right then, two bottled light ales,' the younger man said, and firmly closed the door again. He came back into the sitting room.

‘No problem?' the other inquired.

‘No, nobody hanging about. The old geezer was just like the young one yesterday. Looked as if I had done a fart under his nose. Pass us a fag, will you?' They settled down to wait for their lunch to arrive.

One on each side of the door, with the door itself ajar. Harrington could see one of them through the keyhole. The man had his hand in his pocket, casually, not holding the gun too tightly. Much bloody good may it do him, Harrington muttered to himself, and retreated back to his own position, a comfortable armchair the other side of the bed.

His stomach knotted with suspense. One o'clock. When would something happen? Was he having to sit this out till the evening? He didn't know how he could stand it. He rapped on the door. ‘I'd like a scotch,' he called out. ‘Coming up,' was the answer. He took the drink, didn't say thank you, and paced up and down, swigging from the glass. One thirty. Christ, he wasn't hungry but he wanted something to eat to pass the time.… He heard the rattle of a trolley beyond the locked door.

It opened and the older man brought in his order. ‘Smells good,' he remarked.

Harrington watched him set the tray on a table. He sat down and poured himself a glass of wine from the opened half bottle. Montrachet '79. They'd picked the best. He took the silver lid off the lamb and the vegetables, and helped himself.

In the sitting room the two men took it in turns to eat. One stayed on guard behind the door leading into the tiny hall, while the other cut into his beef and swallowed his beer.

The floor waiter changed out of his uniform in a broom cupboard on the landing. It was cramped in the tiny space, with vacuum cleaners for the corridors and the body of the young duty waiter bundled up knees to chin in a corner. The maids would get a fright in the morning, he thought, and didn't smile. He had no sense of humour. He slipped into a jacket left hanging behind the door, ripped off the grey wig and stuffed it into his pocket. He had spent some time in a minor repertory company. He had never got beyond walk-on parts. He had become a better actor since then. When he took the lift to the main hall, he was a young man in a continental-style suit, wearing thick spectacles. He crossed the lounge and down the steps into Arlington Street, where he declined the head porter's offer of a taxi with a courteous, ‘No, thank you.' He turned left into Piccadilly and disappeared down Green Park tube station. In the tube he went into a phone box and dialled a number.

‘Colin,' Captain Graham called out, ‘phone for you.'

Lomax didn't hurry. He didn't look at Davina and she asked her mother for a second cup of coffee. Lomax wasn't long away. He came back to the drawing room and said, ‘That was Jim Fraser; he wants us to go to them for drinks and something to eat before the theatre.'

‘That means we'll have to leave early.' Davina picked up the cue.

Lomax explained to Betty Graham. ‘Sorry about this, but we're going to see a play tonight.
Amadeus
. Our friends are mad on the theatre and they say it's the best thing in years.'

‘Isn't it full of filthy language?' Kidson inquired. ‘That's what I heard.'

‘We'll have to make tracks pretty soon.' Lomax ignored the remark. ‘It's a shame to cut the afternoon short.' He shrugged and looked apologetic.

‘I'll get my things together,' Davina said. They didn't hurry or show any signs of urgency. In the hall she whispered, ‘The Ritz?'

Lomax nodded. ‘The boys got hold of Fraser.'

She saw his face and said, ‘Colin –' and then stopped.

‘Harrington's dead,' he said. ‘Cyanide in his wine. They don't mess about, do they?'

She paused at the top of the stairs. ‘Oh, my God, what have I done?'

‘You've found Albatross,' he said. ‘That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You better let me deal with this.'

She didn't answer.
They'd killed him
. She had gambled on a rescue. She'd dealt three cards and one of them had turned out to be the Queen of Spades for Harrington. She went into her room, threw her clothes into the bag, caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, haggard and white-faced with shock. Now she knew the identity of Albatross. She turned to the door. To find him she had killed Peter Harrington as surely as if she had put the poison in the wine herself.

‘Phone call for you, Humphrey.' Ronnie smiled and said, ‘I'll make us a nice cup of coffee,' and went off contentedly into the kitchen.

Humphrey picked up the receiver. He listened quietly and then said, ‘Sorry about that.' He hung up, and Ronnie's voice called out. ‘Coffee's ready.' He took a deep breath and composed himself. ‘Let's have it, then,' he said. He slipped an arm round the boy's shoulder as he came into the sitting room and took the tray.

‘Oh, Lord,' Mary White exclaimed, ‘do we have to go up to London? Whatever it is, can't it wait till Monday?'

James White shook his head. ‘I'm afraid not, dear. But you don't have to come.'

She glanced at him and said quickly, ‘It's not a top priority, is it?'

‘It could be,' he said. ‘We shall have to see.'

‘I wish we didn't have a telephone,' his wife said. ‘Of course I'll come. Otherwise you'll be in the office till all hours. We'd better stay in the flat.'

He came up and kissed her lightly. ‘I'm going up at once. Why don't you enjoy the rest of the day and come later? I shan't be free until the evening anyway. That's much the best idea.' He left quarter of an hour later.

Mary White didn't argue. She realized by the speed with which he revved up and drove away that he was very worried about something.

‘Just my luck,' John Kidson complained. ‘They always have a crisis at weekends.'

‘Such a pity,' Fergus Graham said, seeing his darling daughter leaving a day early. ‘Why don't Charlie and little Fergie stay down? I'll drive them up tomorrow evening.'

John Kidson said, ‘That would be far the best.' He came and put his arm around Charlie. ‘You stay put, my love. What's the point of dragging up to London? I'll be at the office all day tomorrow I expect, so stay here. I'll phone this evening.'

The call had come in the late afternoon. He went upstairs to pick up his razor and pyjamas and was on his way towards the motorway in less than half an hour. He drove fast and with fierce concentration. He had neglected to kiss his wife goodbye for the first time since they married.

Stephen Wood was sorry about interrupting the plans he and his wife had made for Saturday. He explained that one of his chaps had assaulted a prison officer and he had to drop everything and go to Pentonville and try to see if he could help. A poor, subnormal type, he said sympathetically, only able to express himself through violence. His wife clicked her tongue, which was a habit that irritated him, and said, of course, she knew he had to go, but what a nuisance when they had a nice afternoon at London Zoo planned. Wood had received a telephone call at just after 1.30.

He had spent some time on the phone after that, while she saw their outing being whittled away. His call came first from the public phone booth at Green Park tube station. He made its equivalent to a telephone answering service for a firm of Battersea plumbers. The tapes were monitored day and night for messages like his. Within an hour it had been relayed to the appropriate source in the Moscow embassy and instructions received for transmission back to Wood. When they came, he had to cancel the trip to the zoo and listen to his wife making the clicking noise of disappointment with her teeth and tongue. One day, albeit very tactfully, he'd mention it to her.…

The mission was completed successfully. Albatross was safe. Now the final phase of the operation had to be set in train. Wood was going to be very busy.

Davina went to the Marylebone flat. It was very quiet inside and she shivered as she went into the sitting room. She felt cold and sick. She lit the last of the Balkan Sobranies and sat down, staring at the dead face of the television set. She didn't want to go to the Ritz with Colin. She didn't want to see the two men who had failed to safeguard Harrington. She didn't want, above all, to see his body, however sheeted and concealed. When the door bell rang, she jumped. It rang twice in succession, as if the caller was very impatient. She got up and went into the hall. ‘Who is it?'

‘Me!' Walden said loudly. ‘Davina – let me in!'

He came through the door so quickly that she hadn't time to speak before he had slammed it and hurried her back into the sitting room. ‘I called the Ritz,' he said. ‘Lomax was there and he told me what had happened. Christ, what a mess! You look terrible. Sit down.'

‘I feel terrible,' she said slowly. He was solicitous immediately, but she shook him off with fierce impatience. ‘Tony, stop it. I don't need a drink, I don't need cosseting, I'm perfectly all right! Just leave me alone.' She turned away and sat down.

Walden didn't move. ‘It's not your fault,' he said. ‘You tried to protect him. You can't blame yourself.'

She raised her head and said quietly, ‘I used him as a decoy. I set him up. I just didn't reckon they'd kill him. Now tell me I'm not to blame.' She turned away from him again.

Walden sat down beside her. He reached out and took hold of her hand. It trembled slightly. ‘I don't know the reasons for any of this,' he said. ‘And frankly, I don't care. You shouldn't care either. Look at me for a minute.'

She didn't want to, but there was a compulsion not to run away. She had already done that when she fled to Marylebone and left Colin to pick up the pieces of a human life.

He had intense brown eyes, which beamed their message at her. ‘If he's dead, he deserved to be. He was a traitor, a stinking double agent, working for the worst tyranny on earth. To hell with him. If you set him up, so what? Did you get what you wanted, that's all that matters?'

‘Yes,' Davina said at last, ‘I got what I wanted. You're in the wrong business, Tony. You should be doing this.'

‘I know that's not meant to be a compliment,' he countered. ‘But I'll take it as one. I know the Russians, my darling. You forget, I'm a Pole. I haven't any tears to shed for them or anyone who works for them. Now pull yourself together. You had a job to do. You've done it. Come here, and let me tell you what a wonderful woman you are.'

She was in his arms and he was kissing her, fighting down her resistance with outright physical force. Soon she quietened and gave in to him. Neither of them heard Colin Lomax come into the flat. He stood in the doorway and saw her arms around Walden's neck, her mouth enclosed by his, her hand caressing the back of his head. He didn't say anything. He turned and left the flat without either of them knowing he had been there.

‘You're early,' Sir James White said. The office was filled with evening sunshine; it played on the watercolour of his pink-washed house in Kent hanging over the antique fireplace. He was sitting behind his desk, the smoke of the Sub Rosa cigarettes hanging in a blue haze over his head. He looked completely relaxed, and when he saw Davina he got up and smiled and said, ‘Do sit down, my dear.' She didn't go to the chair he indicated. She walked to the window and looked out over the paved courtyard that fronted a gentleman's eighteenth-century town house.

‘I didn't want to keep you waiting,' she said at last. ‘I know you value punctuality, like loyalty.'

‘A value we share, I think,' he answered. ‘You said you would have Albatross by tonight. I believe you've kept your promise.'

She looked at him. She seemed remote, withdrawn. He noticed how extremely pale she was. ‘There were only three people who could have been Albatross,' she said. ‘You, Humphrey and John. I gave each of you a clue this weekend, but only one of them was genuine. I said I would expose the traitor by tonight, because I wanted to panic him into action. I succeeded. But I had to risk a rescue attempt for Peter Harrington. It had to be for real, and I took the chance that he might actually get away.'

‘And did he?' James White inquired.

Davina shook her head. ‘No,' she said, ‘he was murdered instead.'

‘Ah.' He made it a long sound. ‘Albatross did panic, didn't he …? Who is it, Davina?' The cold eyes were fixed upon her; he leaned forward a little and the voice had lost its gentle tone.

She dropped a box of matches on the desk in front of him. ‘I left one of these in my sister's bedroom. I left it on the bed. Albatross is my brother-in-law, John Kidson.'

The matchbox lay on the desk top; he picked it up. Black and gold with the number of the suite stamped on it beneath the inscription, Ritz Hotel.

James White turned it over and then put it down. ‘What an ingenious place to hide him. How was it done? Were there other casualties?' He sounded matter-of-fact.

‘Poison,' she answered. ‘And a young floor waiter killed. The assassin took his place. There hasn't been any fuss; the management haven't been told. Colin is coping with it.'