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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

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BOOK: Come into my Parlour
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Although Erika lived in the private wing she had long since taken on voluntary duties in the hospital, and Madeleine, being a fully trained nurse had, after a brief holiday, also joined the staff. In consequence, the two girls were busy most of the day, so on the Friday morning Gregory had no difficulty in getting Kuporovitch to himself.

In this second summer of the war the gardens had lost some of their former splendour, but a few old gardeners managed to keep them tidy and a number of the convalescents often amused themselves by running the motor mower over the lawns, so the turf on to which Gregory led his friend, in order to be out of earshot of everybody, was still smooth and springy.

“I saw Sir Pellinore yesterday,” Gregory opened up in French, which they still used as a common language. “And he wants me to do a job for him in Russia.”


Mais, mon vieux!
” The Russian's black eyebrows, that contrasted so strangely with his grey hair, lifted, wrinkling his smooth forehead. “You would be crazy to attempt under-cover work there, seeing that you can hardly speak a word of Russian.”

“That's exactly what I said, and he suggested that I should take you as my interpreter.”

Kuporovitch's lazy blue eyes remained quite expressionless for a moment, then he said: “You know as well as I do that for me to return
to Russia is to court death. Yet I am not afraid to die, and would risk my life willingly if by so doing I can serve my country.”

“Sir Pellinore proposes that, if you agree to go, he should take out naturalisation papers on your behalf. You would not only travel on a British passport but enjoy the full protection of our Embassy. He seemed quite confident that then, even if you were recognised, you would remain immune from arrest.”

“That is an idea. I doubt if it would be sufficient protection in ordinary times. The
Ogpu
would arrange that I met with an ‘accident' and send your Ambassador their regrets. But we Russians are realists. We do not cut off our noses to spite our faces. It is unlikely that they would interfere with me if I have taken British nationality and they are also given reasons to believe that I am fulfilling a useful function with their British Allies.”

“Good. I'm sure that could all be fixed up; and I need hardly say how much I'd like to have you with me; but there would still be the risk of their catching us prying into their affairs.”


Mon ami
, again I can only say to you that I am willing to risk my life if by so doing I can serve my country. But, on the face of it, to return there as the secret agent of a foreign Power seems a strange way to do so.”

They had reached the long herbaceous border, now a little past its best, but still bright with a multitude of flowers that were just beginning to seed. As they turned back towards the terrace of the house Gregory did not reply and they paced on in silence for a little, two figures apparently much of a height. Actually Gregory was several inches taller than the Russian, but his head was thrust forward as usual in a predatory slouch while Kuporovitch's broad shoulders and bulky torso were largely offset by the fact that a lifetime of military service caused him to carry himself rigidly erect.

Gregory was in a quandary. He wanted to be fair to his friend, yet, at the same time he had the interests of his own country to think of. He knew that it would be impossible to accomplish his mission without a reliable interpreter, and that his chances of finding one who would also prove such a courageous and resourceful companion as Kuporovitch were extremely slender. At length he said:

“What do you think of Russia's chances, Stefan? Do you reckon she will be able to hold this German onslaught and stick it out till next spring?”

“Of course she will,” Kuporovitch replied with quiet confidence. “We may have to give much more ground, but that has always been Russia's strategy. Her war machine is so vast that it will take months to get it into full operation. I doubt even if her mobilisation will be
completed until this time next year. But then you will see. It will indeed be ‘death to the German invaders'!”

“Yes. I realise the immensity of Russia's resources. But the
Blitzkrieg
, with its armoured spearheads racing ahead at fifty miles a day, is a new form of warfare. Isn't it possible that she might be knocked out by the capture of most of her principal cities before she's had a chance really to get going?”

Kuporovitch shook his round bullet-head. “No. We have always believed that one day the Germans would attack us, and years ago Voroshilov, as Commissar for Defence, made his plans accordingly. Today our main munition plants are in places like Sverdlovsk, Omsk, Tobolsk, Petropavlovsk and Cheliabinsk, all right back behind the Urals; and a constant stream of reserve formations will be brought forward into the battle. It will be a hard war for many of our poor people, but even the fall of Leningrad, Kiev, Odessa and Moscow could not put us out of the war, and our soldiers will not lay down their arms while there is one Hitlerite bandit left on Russian soil.”

Gregory sighed. “How I wish our people would accept your word for all that; then it wouldn't be necessary for me to make this trip. Still, if you're convinced of that yourself, Stefan, I can set your conscience at rest. In order to decide on its own future strategy the British Government want me to go out to assess Russia's capacity for remaining in the war. As long as they have any doubt about that they're bound to play for safety, but once satisfied they could take all sorts of risks which should have the effect of bringing about the final defeat of Germany very much sooner. So if you can help me to prove that your beliefs are correct you'll be rendering a great service to your own country.”

“In that case,
mon vieux
, I am your man. My countrymen have a habit of giving short shrift to people whom they catch trying to find out their secrets, so we shall have to be very, very careful; but that is all the more reason, knowing something of their methods, that I should go with you.”

“Bless you, Stefan.” Gregory linked his arm affectionately through that of the Russian. “I honestly think I'd funk this job on my own, but with you to help me the chances of getting back to Gwaine Meads again are increased a thousandfold.”

“When do we leave?”

“We catch the morning train to London on Monday and dine with Sir Pellinore that night. After that it will be up to him; but he can get all sorts of things done in a few days that take other people months. So if I telephone to him at lunch time that you've agreed to play he'll probably have your naturalisation papers pushed through over the
weekend. It would be as well, I think, to anglicise your name at the same time. Fewer questions are likely to be asked if the passport is issued to Mr. Stephen Cooper.”

“Yes, that is sound. I fear though that the little Madeleine will take my departure badly.”

“So will Erika; but they both know that we're not the sort of chaps to sit at home indefinitely while there's a war on, and at rock bottom they wouldn't think much of us if we did. After all, we're lucky to have had a month here; but I suggest that we shouldn't say anything about our being off again till Sunday night.”

“I agree. Then the prospect of parting will not shadow our last weekend here, and we'll do our damnedest to make it a super good one.”

“That's it,” Gregory laughed. “Let's eat, drink and be merry while we may. What about a visit to the peach houses, to collect some fruit for lunch?”

That night and for the two days that followed they lived up to their intention and nobody but the two girls who loved them would have suspected that they had a care in the world, but perhaps it was their grasping with such fresh zest at every pleasure that offered which made both Madeleine and Erika slightly uneasy.

In consequence, when Gregory took Erika out on to the terrace after dinner on the Sunday night and said: “I've got some news for you,” she replied at once:

“I know, darling. You're going abroad again, aren't you?”

“So you guessed,” he smiled, and picking her up sat her on the stone balustrade, so that her golden head came nearly level with his own.

“It wasn't very difficult.” She put a soft arm around his neck, “Your going up to London on Thursday, and then your love-making having been so hectic ever since.”

His tight-lipped mouth twisted into a grin that brought deep furrows each side of it to his lean cheeks. “So I overdid it, eh?”

“No, my sweet. You could never overdo making love to me, but that's how I guessed.”

“Well, there it is. As a matter of fact I had two pieces of news for you and I've a penny here still clutched in one hand. I was going to ask you to guess which fist it was in, and if you'd picked the one with the penny you'd have had the good news first. Still, you beat me to it and know the worst now. I'm off on my travels again tomorrow morning.”

“Is it—is it Germany?” she asked, with a little catch in her voice.

“No. I don't think you need worry overmuch this time. I'm going to Russia.”

“Russia! But the Russians are fighting Hitler too. You know I'm not trying to pry but I simply can't imagine why Sir Pellinore should be sending you there.”

“There's no harm in my telling you, because even if the Nazis knew they couldn't stop me, or do anything to interfere with my activities, and there's nothing at all specific about my mission. I'm simply going to try to find out what everybody would like to know. How long the Russians can hope to resist the German armies; how much of their man-power they can really put into the field; how much territory they can afford to give away, and that sort of thing; and, incidentally, the state of Stalin's health.”

“I see. Yes, I suppose it is important that the British should secure their own really reliable information about that sort of thing. But everything in Russia is hidden behind a veil of secrecy, and the Russians are such strange ruthless people that, even now they are your allies, I shall be frightened for you till you get back.”

“I'm taking Stefan with me.”

“Oh, I'm so glad. I suppose that's selfish of me, because poor Madeleine will be heartbroken. She simply adores that dear old tough. But he's as cunning as a monkey and as courageous as his national bear; and he knows the ways of those grim compatriots of his, as well. It'll be a tremendous comfort to me to know he's with you. But can he go back? I thought—”

“We've fixed all that. At least Sir Pellinore is pulling the wires as usual and Stefan is going out on a British passport. Not a fake, but a real one to be issued as a result of his assuming British nationality.”

Erika smoothed Gregory's brown hair with her slim fingers. “You know, sometimes I feel that I ought to accept Sir Pellinore's offer to do the same for me. It's such an anomalous position, having been evacuated here when I was too ill to know what was happening, and being under sentence of death by the Nazis, yet having refused to declare myself a refugee. Of course, if it weren't for the special exemption that dear old Pellinore obtained for me I'd be behind barbed wire in the Isle of Man; but I didn't come over to the enemy deliberately, and I won't pretend I did, and it does seem terribly wrong to rat on one's own country by changing one's nationality in the middle of a war.”

“Don't fret, my sweet,” Gregory caressed her cheek. “The moment we can get married you'll be British anyway.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“More than ever. I'd had more than my share of racketing about before I met you, and so had you. I'm sick to death of travelling and risking my neck. The minute the war is over I mean to chuck my pistols in the Thames, get married to you on a special licence and
settle down for good. That reminds me. You haven't asked me my other piece of news.”

“No, I'd forgotten, but you said it was nice. Do tell me.”

“Old Pellinore has given us a wedding present in advance. A cheque for ten thousand quid to buy a home to settle down in.”

“But how marvellous! He
is
a dear.”

“Yes, every rich man knows that when he dies he can't take his money with him, but you don't find many of them that behave with such splendid generosity.”

Erika leant forward and gave him a long, long kiss. As they drew apart she murmured: “When you see him tomorrow, give him that from me.”

“Not all of it,” Gregory laughed. ‘But listen, beloved. You know the sort of place we want, we've talked of it so often. We ought to be able to pick up something jolly nice now, with possession three months after the war, for five or six thousand pounds. While I'm away I want you to write to some of the best London house agents and find out what they have to offer. Pellinore's secretary will make arrangements for you to go to see anything that sounds attractive, and if you find anything you really like buy it. I'm leaving you a power of attorney for the cash.”

She nodded and with tears dimming her lovely eyes leaned her cheek against his. “Oh, Gregory, darling. What heaven it would be to really have a home of our own. I'm afraid it's too like a dream to ever come true. And you seem to have forgotten one thing—I'm married already and, as far as we know, Kurt is still living.”

“That's true,” he murmured, after a moment. “For months at a stretch I almost forget the fellow's existence. But we'll get rid of him somehow.”

“It may not be so easy, you know. He's just a colourless little man and he married me mainly out of vanity I think. His only real love is his scientific experiments and they positively eat money. As he is a scientist, it's most unlikely that he will be sent into any place of danger where he's liable to be killed; but if I'm able to get anything for my German investments after the war we might be able to buy him off. The worst stumbling block will be his mother. She's rather a fine person; a real
Grande Dame
of the old school, and with the exception of Goering she regards all the Nazis as
canaille
. But she is terribly dictatorial and disapproves most strongly of divorce. Unfortunately, Kurt is absolutely under her thumb and it's not going to be easy to make him stand up to her, even if we can get him to agree himself.”

BOOK: Come into my Parlour
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