Mr. Calder & Mr. Behrens (6 page)

“He’s yellow,” said Mr. Calder to Mr. Fortescue. “Yellow as a daffodil. By the time I’d finished he was almost crying.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Mr. Fortescue. “Verbal bullies are often lacking in moral stamina. You were careful not to suggest any connection between him and Lady Lefroy?”

“Very careful. I kept it quite general. Listening to indiscreet gossip was how I put it.”

“Excellent. We must hope that he’ll act predictably.”

It had not been an easy weekend, even for an experienced hostess like Marcia Lefroy. Captain Rowlandson and Mrs. Orbiston had not mixed well. The only real success had been Mr. Behrens, who had filled in awkward gaps in the conversation with stories about his bees.

The final straw for Lady Lefroy was when her husband telephoned that he had to stay in London. The First Lord had called a conference for early the next day.

Lady Lefroy pondered these things as she lay in bed. Usually she fell asleep immediately after turning off the bedside lamp. Tonight she had not done so. Like all trained and experienced agents she possessed delicate antennae on the alert for the unusual. It was most unusual for a conference to be called on a Saturday morning. If there had been a crisis of some sort, it would have been understandable. But the international scene was flat as a pancake. Why then—

The first handful of gravel against the window jerked her back to full wakefulness. As she got out of bed Sultan growled softly. “It’s all right,” she said. She struggled into her dressing gown without turning on the light.

She made her way downstairs into the drawing room and opened the long window giving on to the terrace. As a man slipped through she adjusted the curtains carefully and switched on a single wall light. When she saw who it was her anger exploded. “How
dare
you come here!”

“I wouldn’t have come unless I had to,” said Michael sulkily.

“Your instructions were clear. You were absolutely forbidden to write, telephone, or even to speak to me, except in your shop.”

“But I’ve got to get out. They’re on to me.”

“How do you know that?”

“They told me.”

“An unusual proceeding,” said Lady Lefroy coldly.

“This man, he met me, at the rendezvous. Shollitov’s been sent home. He knew all about us.”

”Us?”

“Well, about me.”

“Did he mention my name?”

“Not your name particularly. He accused me of picking up gossip at the salon and passing it on. He made threats. They were going to—do things to me.”

“Have they done anything?”

“Not yet. But they will. I tried to get through – to the emergency number.”

“Fool. Your line will be tapped.”

“I couldn’t, anyway. They said it had been disconnected.”

“I see,” said Lady Lefroy. It was a few moments before she spoke again.

“How did you come down?”

“By car. I’m sure I wasn’t followed – I should have known at once. The roads were empty. I hid the car nearly a mile away and walked the rest of the way.”

“You showed that much sense.” There was no point in panicking him. He was frightened enough already. “What do you want?”

“Help. To get out.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

“You know the ropes. They told me that if I ever had to clear out I was to come to you.”

“Then,” said Lady Lefroy, “I must see what I can do.” She walked across to her desk. As she did so, the door was pushed open. Her heart missed a beat, then steadied. It was Sultan.

“That’s very naughty of you,” she said. “I told you to stay put.”

Sultan yawned. He wanted the man to go so that they could get back to bed.

Lady Lefroy unlocked the desk, and then a steel-lined drawer inside. From it she took a bulky packet which she weighed thoughtfully in her hand. She said, “You see this. It was left with me against such a contingency. But before I give it to you I must have your promise to use it exactly in the way I tell you.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“It’s called ‘Emergency Exit’. Inside you’ll find a passport. The photograph resembles you sufficiently. You’ll have to make a few small changes. Arrange your hair differently. That should be easy enough for a man of your talents.” A smile twitched the corner of Lady Lefroy’s mouth. “And wear glasses. You’ll find them in the packet too. There’s a wad of French and German money, and instructions as to what you’re to do when you get to Cologne. From there you’ll be flying to Berlin. There’s a second passport to use in Berlin, and a second set of instructions. After you open the packet – which you’re not to do until you’re back in London – all instructions are to be learned by heart and then destroyed. And the first passport is to be destroyed when you reach Cologne. Is that all clear?”

Michael let his breath out with a soft sigh. “All clear,” he said. “And thank you.”

“A final word.
These things aren’t issued in duplicate.
So look after it carefully.”

Michael made an unsuccessful attempt to stow the bulky oilskin-covered packet in his coat pocket. Lady Lefroy took it from him. She said, “Open the front of your shirt. That’s right. Stow it down there. Now button it up again. Right. Don’t open the curtains until I’ve turned the light off.”

She stood for a few moments after Michael had gone. She was taut as a violin string. The young dog, crouched at her feet, sensed it and growled, low in his throat. The sound broke the tension.

“All right,” said Lady Lefroy. “Back to bed. Nothing more to worry about.”

Among other irritating habits Mrs. Orbiston was accustomed to turning on her portable radio for the seven o’clock news, and retailing the choicer items to the company at breakfast. Lady Lefroy had not appeared, so her audience consisted of Captain Rowlandson, who was never fully awake until he had finished his after-breakfast pipe, and Mr. Behrens whose mind appeared to be elsewhere.

“Burglars,” she announced. “Stole jewellery worth fifteen thousand pounds. At Greystone House. That’s not far from here, is it?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Captain Rowlandson.

“Well, I’m sure it is nearby. Because the people were called Baynes, and I’ve heard Marcia talk about them.”

“Serve them right. When you go away you ought to put your jewellery in the bank.”

“That’s just it. That’s what made it so terrible. The men went
into
their bedroom,
while
they were there, and helped themselves to the jewel
box off the
dressing table. It makes your flesh creep. I was just saying, Marcia—”

“If it’s the Bayneses you’re talking about,” said Lady Lefroy, who had come into the room at that moment, “I’ve just heard. Mary Baynes was on the telephone.”

“One good thing,” said Captain Rowlandson, “they wouldn’t get away with it here. Sultan would see them off.”

“He’s a very light sleeper,” agreed Lady Lefroy. “All the same, I can’t help thinking that it might be better if he
didn’t
give the alarm.”

“Oh—why?”

“I gather these burglars are pretty desperate characters. And all my stuff is well insured.”

“That’s pure defeatism, Marcia. Don’t you agree, Behrens?”

Mr. Behrens said, “Defeatism might be preferable to being shot.”

Mrs. Orbiston, seeing the conversation drifting away from her, pulled it back sharply. She said, “And that wasn’t the
only
exciting thing that happened in this part of the country. Roysters Cross is quite close to here, too, isn’t it?”

“About four miles away,” said Lady Lefroy. “Why?”

“There was a terrible accident there last night. A man blew himself up.”

“Blew himself up?”

“That’s what the news commentator said.”

“Curious way of committing suicide,” said Captain Rowlandson.

“The possibility of accident has not been ruled out.”

“You can’t very well blow yourself up by accident,” said Mr. Behrens. “That is, unless you’re carrying some sort of bomb.”

“Perhaps it was a tyre blow-out,” said Lady Lefroy. “Would you mind passing the marmalade?”

“It didn’t sound like a tyre blow-out. They said the man
and
the car were blown to bits.”

“Amatol or dextrol,” said Mr. Calder. “Or just possibly good old-fashioned nitroglycerine. Although that’s got rather a detectable smell.”

“What sort of fuse?” asked Mr. Fortescue.

“Something silent. Wire and acid?”

“Very likely,” agreed Mr. Fortescue. “It’s notoriously inaccurate. I’ve no doubt the thing was intended to go off a lot further away from Lady Lefroy’s house. Or maybe he took longer to walk back to his car than she anticipated. How do you think she arranged it?”

“I imagine it was something she gave him to take back to London. A parcel of some sort.”

“The whole thing,” said Mr. Fortescue, “is most unfortunate. Michael was responding nicely to treatment. He would soon have been ready to co-operate.”

“Evidently Marcia thought so, too.”

“It demonstrates what we have always suspected – that she’s a ruthless and unscrupulous woman.”

“It demonstrates something else, too,” said Mr. Calder. “If she tumbled to what we were doing – twisting Michael’s tail so hard that he’d incriminate her – she must have suspected that we were onto her as well.”

Mr. Fortescue said, “Hmm. Maybe.”

“Not certain, I agree. But a workable assumption. And if it’s true, it must mean that she’s decided to stay put and brazen it out. Because if she had decided to quit she’d have kept Michael on ice for a day or two, while she made all
her
preparations.”

“It’s not a happy conclusion, Calder.”

“It’s a very unhappy conclusion. Now that she’s been warned she’ll sever all her contacts and lie low for a very long time. Possibly forever.”

“It would, I suppose, be a halfway solution,” said Mr. Fortescue. He didn’t sound very happy about it. “All the same, I don’t think it’s a chance we can take. Do you?”

“No,” said Mr. Calder. “I don’t.” He added, “I read in the papers that there’d been another burglary down in the Petersfield area. It’s some sort of gang. The police say that they’re armed, and dangerous. They’ve put out a warning to all householders in the neighbourhood.”

Mr. Fortescue thought about this for a long time. Then he said, “Yes. I think that would be best. It’ll mean keeping the Admiral up in London for another night. I’ll get the Minister to reconvene the conference.”

“How’s he going to get away with that one? He can’t keep senior admirals and generals in London on a Sunday. Not in peacetime.”

“Then we’ll have to declare war on someone,” said Mr. Fortescue.

Marcia sat up in bed and said, “Stop it, Sultan. What’s the matter with you?”

It had been a savage growl – no gentle rumbling warning, but a note of imminent danger.

The moon, cloud-racked, was throwing a grey light into the room. As her sight adjusted itself, Marcia could dimly see the figure at which Sultan was snarling.

She twisted one hand into his collar, and with the other she switched on the bed-table lamp. A man was standing beside the dressing table, examining an opened jewel case. He put the case down and said, “If you don’t keep that dog under control I shall have to shoot him. It won’t make a lot of noise, because this gun’s silenced, but I’d hate to have to mess up a nice animal like that.”

“If that jewel case interests you, you’re welcome to it. It’s got nothing but costume jewellery in it – stop it, Sultan – worth twenty-five pounds, if you’re lucky.”

“And insured for five hundred, I don’t doubt,” said the intruder. “I’m not really interested in jewellery. That’s just an excuse for meeting you. I wanted to get your version of what happened to Michael last night.”

“Michael? Michael who?”

“The Michael who’s been doing your hair for the last eighteen months. You can’t have forgotten about him already. They’ve only just finished scraping bits of him off the signpost at Roysters Cross. That must have been a powerful bit of stuff you put in the packet you gave him.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” said Lady Lefroy. Her voice gave nothing away. Only her eyes were thoughtful, and the knuckles of the hand which held Sultan’s collar showed white.

The door opened quietly. Calder’s colleague, Mr. Behrens, looked in.

“You’ve come just at the right moment,” said the first intruder. “Have you got the tape?”

“I have it,” said Mr. Behrens, “and a recorder. I had to wire three rooms to be sure of getting it.”

Lady Lefroy’s look had hardened. She moved her head slowly, trying to sum up both men, to weigh this new development. It was the reaction of a professional, faced by a threat from a new quarter.

“You know each other, I see.”

“Indeed, yes,” said Mr. Behrens. “Calder and I have known each other for twenty years. Or is it twenty-five? Time goes so quickly when you’re interested in your work.”

“So you’re in this together.”

“We often work as a team.”

“You do the snooping and sneaking, and he does the rough stuff.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Behrens. “We find it an excellent arrangement.” He was busy with the tape recorder. “Now perhaps we can convince you we’re not bluffing. Where shall we start?”

There was a click, and they heard Lady Lefroy’s voice say, “It’s called ‘Emergency Exit’. Inside you’ll find a passport—” They listened in silence for a full minute. “Open the front of your shirt. That’s right. Stow it down there—”

Mr. Behrens turned the machine off.

“A nice touch,” he said. “It must have been resting on his stomach when it went off. No wonder there wasn’t much of him left.”

Lady Lefroy said, “That tape recording proves nothing. You say it’s my voice. I say it’s a clumsy fake. It doesn’t even sound much like me.”

“You mustn’t forget that I saw Michael, both coming and going.”

“Lies! Why do you bother me with such lies?” Again her eyes turned from one man to the other. She was trying to estimate which of them was the stronger character, which one she should attack, what weapons in her well-stocked armoury she should use. It was confusing to have to deal with two at once.