The Strange Story of Linda Lee (37 page)

Ignoring him, Linda ran to the taxi. The driver was slow in giving change to the woman who had just paid him off. Linda threw an anxious glance at the Russian. He was fifty yards away, but had started to run after her.

The moment the woman had her change Linda jumped into the taxi and called to the driver, ‘Take me to the British Embassy as quickly as you can.’

The driver turned his head and stared at her. ‘There isn’t one, Miss; not in Ottawa.’

‘Drive off anyhow!’ Linda cried desperately. ‘Go on! For God’s sake! Take me to the Governor General, or the High Commissioner.’

A glance through the back window of the cab showed her that the Russian was now within twenty
yards of it. The taxi began to move. Seeing that it was too late to catch it, the Russian pulled up with a jerk, faced about and started to run back to his car.

Linda sat back and breathed again. The taxi-driver turned his head and called, ‘I’d best take you to the High Commissioner’s. That’s in Elgin Street.’

‘Yes, please do,’ she called back. Although she had little doubt that the nuclear calculations had been stolen from an American scientist, immediately she had seen them she had determined that, if she could get hold of them, she would take them to some British authority. Britain was America’s ally and, after all, it was the British who had started all this atomic business, so she reasoned that her own country had first right on any new developments that might have been discovered. With luck now she would have the packet in the hands of some responsible British official within the next twenty minutes, or half an hour at the most.

At a cross-roads, red lights caused the taxi to pull up. Turning to get a second look through the back window at an ornate building they had just passed, she got a horrid shock. There was not a great deal of traffic in the street and, two cars behind, she caught a glimpse of the Russian. He was leaning out and she instantly recognised him by the round shape of his astrakhan
papenka
.

The taxi ran down a long, broad street. When lights again brought it to a halt at another cross-roads, the Russian was separated from it by only one car. Two minutes later the taxi turned left. Linda had no idea that they were in Elgin Street, but two hundred yards further on it pulled up in front of an imposing building. Having arrived at her destination unexpectedly, she had not got the money ready to pay her fare. Hastily, she wriggled her bag down from where
she had been clutching it under her arm, and got it free of her wrist. As she opened the bag to take out Gerta’s billfold, she saw the Russian’s car shoot past and pull up with a squeal of brakes fifteen yards ahead of the taxi. Jerking two dollar notes out of the billfold she thrust them through the opening of the partition window at the driver, opened the door and jumped out. At the same moment the Russian jumped out of his car.

To open her bag she had had to put the beauty case down on the floor of the taxi. Now, having shut her bag, she had to turn round to pick up the beauty case. As she did so, she saw another taxi brake and pull up with a jerk immediately behind the one she had just paid off. Out of it jumped the broad-shouldered, boy-faced thug.

Evidently he had known that the Russian was waiting outside the hotel for his female associate. Having seen her knock out his bearded friend by the lift with her gas gun, he had realised something had gone wrong, dashed downstairs and out of the hotel, just in time to see the Russian drive off, then followed his car under the impression that the woman was with him.

As Linda snatched up the beauty case, her back was turned to the Russian, but she heard him shout, ‘Anna! Anna Zubarova!’ followed by a spate of Russian. From his angry tone she guessed that he had not yet realised that she was not Anna, and had jumped to the conclusion that Anna was attempting to defect and sell to the British the papers for which they had paid such a high price.

He and The Top’s thug came charging toward her at the same minute. Each believed his principals to have been cheated. Dashing toward each other, glaring with malignant rage, they momentarily ignored Linda. The two taxis and the Russian’s car had come to a halt
within a minute of one another. Outside the High Commissioner’s a fur-clad commissionaire was standing. Linda realised that he was her only hope and shouted to him, ‘Help! Help!’

As she did so, the two men met in front of her. The thug’s fist shot out, caught the Russian in the face and knocked him to his knees. He gave a quick shake of his head, swung his body round and made a grab at Linda’s beauty box. But she was too quick for him and jumped aside. The young thug had not paid off his taxi. The driver now came up, grabbed him by the arm and demanded his fare.

Linda seized the opportunity to thrust the beauty box at the commissionaire, crying, ‘Here! Take it! Take it to the High Commissioner! It’s terribly important.’

He took it, but held it only for a moment. The thug lashed out. His fist caught the man on the side of the jaw. His knees buckled, he fell back, measuring his length on the ground. He had dropped the case and it slithered across the pavement.

The thug and Linda dived for it at the same instant. The Russian had come to his feet. Thrusting out his leg, he tripped the thug, who fell headlong into the gutter. Linda snatched at the box, but missed it. The thug had jerked himself up in time to intercept her. The Russian’s hand darted between them, at the box. Linda kicked out hard. Her toe caught him on the thigh and he staggered back.

A little crowd was gathering. Boyface, evidently a trained athlete, had picked himself up in a second. His mouth set grimly, he dashed past Linda. But the Russian caught him by the collar and swung him round. He wrenched himself free. The box lay on the edge of the pavement. Both of them grabbed at it
simultaneously. Their hands locked and they began to wrestle. The commissionaire was now blowing his police whistle.

Linda saw her chance and grabbed the box. The two men suddenly thrust each other off and came at her. The commissionaire was by then on his feet, but they were between him and Linda. Had she attempted to throw the case, one of them would have got it. Turning, in spite of the oncoming traffic which had just been, released by the lights going green, she started to dash across the road.

If she could get across safely it would cut them off and give her a chance to disappear in the crowd on the opposite pavement. A big lorry braked hard, the driver cursing, as she skimmed past the bonnet. Hidden beyond it was a small car. The driver did not see her in time and braked too late. The mudguard hit her hard on her left leg. She was thrown sideways. The beauty box she was clutching struck the road with a thud and flew open. When she had shut it, she had been so preoccupied about dealing with Gerta that she had forgotten to turn the knob of the combination which would have relocked it.

Out came the packet and the pile of thousand-dollar notes beneath them. The bitter wind was blowing half a gale. The banknotes sailed up into the air like a flight of startled birds, scattered in all directions, then fluttered down on the traffic, on the road and on the pavements on both sides of it. Pandemonium broke loose. Everyone within half a mile seemed to be shouting as they scrambled and fought for this manna from heaven which had suddenly fallen amongst them. Only half-conscious, Linda lay in front of the car that had knocked her down.

Linda remained where she had fallen for less than half a minute. The beauty box lay open upside down only a yard away from her. Beside it, too heavy to be blown away, lay the packet; but the high wind was causing the notes to spiral up into the air like a fountain of paper. To her, it was the packet that mattered beyond all else. Scrambling to her knees, she reached for and seized it.

The driver of the little car was a young girl. Immediately it had struck Linda and jerked to a halt she opened the door and jumped out. Her face white with fright at having run down a woman, she grasped Linda’s arm and helped her to her feet, while gasping:

‘I … I’m terribly sorry. Are you hurt?’

‘My leg,’ Linda murmured. ‘Your buffer caught it an awful blow. It’s not broken though.’ But as she spoke she was not looking at the girl. She was staring anxiously across at the High Commission building. The stream of traffic was running on. Between passing vans and cars she caught glimpses of a struggle taking place on the pavement. The Russian had disappeared, but a policeman had come on the scene. Between them, he and the commissionaire were struggling to hold on to the big, boyish-looking thug. But the little crowd that had gathered in the early stages of the rumpus had now
dispersed. Men, women and children were scrambling wildly for the fluttering notes.

The girl picked up Linda’s beauty box, shut it and held it out to her. United States banknotes are all the same size and colour. They vary only in the portraits of various past. Presidents and the value on them, so the girl had no idea that the best part of a quarter of a million dollars had been scattered by the wind. But even had they been one-dollar bills their total value would have been considerable, and she said:

‘I’m afraid you’ve lost an awful lot of money.’

Turning, for the first time Linda got a full view of the girl. She was a pretty little thing of about eighteen, with blue eyes and long, flaxen hair. ‘Thank you.’ Linda took the box and added lamely, ‘I … I was taking it to the bank.’

‘I’m sorry about your leg.’

Impatiently Linda shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. I think it’s only bruised and the pain will wear off. Anyway, it wasn’t your fault.’

Meanwhile, she was wondering desperately what she had better do. Dared she recross the road and try to get the precious packet to the High Commissioner? No. There were now two policemen there, holding the thug and talking with the commissionaire. If she crossed to them, it was certain he would tell the policemen that it was her arrival that had started all the trouble. They would insist on her coming to the station to make a statement, and she was still ‘wanted’ by the police in Canada. The fact that she could give no address or particulars about herself was certain to make them suspicious. They would go through their books of photographs and, in spite of her blonde wig, might identify her. At all costs she must keep away from the
police. She must try to get the papers to the Governor General or the British Consul.

The girl was speaking again. ‘Apart from losing all that money, you had a nasty fall. You really ought to go to a doctor and have your leg looked at; or, anyway, to your home so that you can lie down for a while.’ She held open the door of the car. ‘Please get in. Tell me where you’d like me to take you, and I’ll run you there.’

It was at that moment that Linda caught sight of the Russian again. Evidently he had run down the street for a hundred yards or more, then crossed to an island. He had seen her and was now about eighty yards off, hurrying toward her between the two lanes of traffic and shouting, ‘Anna! Anna!’

Even if the girl had been willing to become involved in the affair and help Linda get away, there was no time to explain the situation to her before the Russian was upon them. Linda threw the beauty box and packet on the back seat of the car, got quickly into the passenger seat and pulled shut the door. As the girl walked round the bonnet to get in on the other side, Linda slid across into the driver’s seat. She had only to push the gear lever and the car shot forward, leaving the astonished owner staring after it.

A main cross-roads lay two hundred yards ahead. By the time Linda was half-way there, the lights turned orange. She swore and looked in the driving mirror. The Russian had reached the place where she had been knocked down and, with the girl beside him, was giving chase. The girl was shouting as she ran, ‘Stop! Stop! Stop thief!’

The light went red just as Linda reached the cross-roads. If she pulled up it was certain they would catch
her. Ignoring the policeman on point duty, she drove on. He yelled at her and blew his whistle, but she was aided by the confusion which still reigned owing to the shower of notes. Several drivers of cars and lorries had left their vehicles to secure a share in this incredibly lucky windfall. Some of the people were looking dubiously at the notes they held, evidently wondering if they ought not to hand them over to the police, but the majority were slapping one another on the back and shouting with joy, or furtively hurrying off down side turnings.

Linda’s heart lurched as she missed by inches an old, blind man carrying a white stick, who had started to cross the road. Then she was round the corner. With a clear run ahead now, she jammed down her foot on the accelerator. As the car leapt forward pain shot up through her left thigh, but she gritted her teeth and maintained the pressure.

Another cross-roads loomed ahead. She slowed down, but the lights were green. Having crossed it she took the first turning to the right, the next to the left, then she caught a glimpse of the Ottawa river. Two hundred yards further on, she came abreast of the entrance to a bridge. Turning, she crossed it, and ran on for a mile or more through streets of shops and blocks of dwellings. Gradually they thinned out and she was passing pleasant homes with private gardens. Twenty minutes after having stolen the car she was out in open country. Reducing speed, she turned into a by-lane, pulled up, took her hands off the wheel, lay back and closed her eyes.

For a good ten minutes she remained slumped in her seat. Then, fully recovered from her nerve-racking drive, she sat up, reached over for the packet and the beauty box to put it in. When she opened the box, to her
surprise and delight she found that there were still some of the bills in it. Quickly she counted them. There were four—four thousand dollars—nearly one thousand, seven hundred pounds.

It was salvation. With such a sum she could keep herself in reasonable comfort for a long time. But those accursed nuclear calculations? What was she to do about them? Most of the personnel of the Russian Embassy and all The Top’s men in Ottawa would be looking for her. By now they would have picketed the Governor General’s residence, the American Embassy, the American and British Consulates and every other place at which a defector might try to hand over documents.