Menace (Department Z) Read online

‘I’m in a hurry, One Seven One. I’d like a large car, and this fellow in the back had better be moved inside the garage. Will you get rid of your mechanics for five minutes?’

  ‘Sartain, Number Two!’ The garage proprietor took it quite as calmly as Kerr. ‘They ’ave gone, most. Drive in!’

  His expression did not change as he turned and walked back to the garage. Kerr pushed the gear into reverse. As he drove into the shed, the one-eyed man came out, taking up a stand by the petrol pumps.

  The change-over from the Packard to a large cream Cadillac took them very few minutes. An English fiver changed hands. The ruffian and One-Eye watched the Cadillac out of sight. Lois was beginning to feel that they would not be so lonely in Baj after all.

  ‘You told us of the other three, Bob, with aeroplanes: are there many more, besides this fellow?’

  ‘We’ve five men in Baj, altogether,’ Kerr told her as he drove under the archway. ‘This fellow, the man at the Renol Hotel, a member of the Royal Palace staff, one of the Government minor officials, and a leather merchant. When we get to the hotel I’ll give you a complete list, and if by chance we do get separated, you’ll be all right with any one of them. Meanwhile, here’s Baj.’

  Lois sat back and looked about her.

  She was impressed by the width of the streets, and apart from the white stone of which the buildings were chiefly made, there was little to remind her of the east. The people walking the streets – growing more numerous as they left the gateway – might have been in Paris or Berlin.

  No one seemed interested in the progress of the cream Cadillac.

  Here and there they would pass tall, imposing buildings that looked larger because of the inevitable white stone. Slowly she began to assimilate some of the characteristics. The windows were universally small, she noticed, and the roads themselves were cobbled. The inevitable whiteness grew monotonous, and she longed to see a dull grey or a dull red brick, or granite.

  ‘The roads all seem to run at right-angles,’ she said suddenly.

  Kerr nodded.

  ‘They do, mostly. If their politics were as sound as their town planning, they’d be all right. We turn left along here,’ he added, ‘and you’ll find that square building we talked about in the plane. After that comes the Royal Palace, and then the Princess’s. They’re next to each other, with only gardens in between.’

  As he swung left, a different sight met Lois Dacre’s eyes.

  The squareness of the street plans disappeared: they were in a wide circular road, not unlike the Place de la Concorde but on a smaller scale. In the distance, perhaps half-a-mile away, she could see buildings like those which they had passed. But on the right of the Cadillac, and with another road on the far side, was the impressive-looking House of Representatives.

  The gardens, filled with multi-coloured flowers that startled her in their wild splendour, were the work of artists. She had rarely seen anything more grandiloquent nor more peaceful.

  ‘The hotel quarter comes next, and we’ll be able to unload,’ said Kerr.

  Lois was conscious of a tightness across her chest. She had a queer feeling that they were being watched, and she knew that Kerr was on tenterhooks.

  Were they safe?

  Certainly no car had followed them from the factory, and only the wounded man in the rear served to remind them of the previous attack.

  Kerr answered her thoughts, that had run closely on his own.

  ‘Of course, the Kryn crowd over here is probably as illegal as it is in England. They’d have to watch carefully. One man’s less suspicious than two, but I don’t like things somehow. I – my God!’

  He was looking towards a blue Renault, coming in the opposite direction.

  ‘Head down!’

  Lois obeyed, but not until she had seen the man in the rear of the Renault.

  His height was obvious, for his head was almost touching the roof of the car. He was looking away from the Cadillac, and talking to a woman who struck Lois, in that glimpse, as being superbly beautiful. In the front of the Renault, next to the chauffeur, was Rene Mondell.

  * * *

  ‘Was it Kryn?’ Lois put the question breathlessly.

  ‘It was Lady Mondell anyhow. Look through the back, Lois, and see where it goes.’

  He was trying, without much success, to keep the Renault in sight with the help of the driving mirror.

  Lois spoke swiftly.

  ‘The Princess’s palace, Bob! It’s turned in.’

  Kerr pulled into the side of the road. Lois turned to watch the blue Renault. It reached the imposing steps of the home of Katrina, Princess of Vallena, and pulled up. A few seconds later Rene Mondell, the tall man, and the other woman climbed out. They walked up the steps of the palace, and as they disappeared Kerr started the car jerkily.

  ‘Well, well, well! So Katrina’s in it.’

  They slowed down outside the Renol Hotel. Adjacent to the main entrance was the garage-way, and Kerr took the car straight in.

  Lois, on tenterhooks, wondered how they would get the wounded man inside without attracting attention. Kerr made sure the fellow was unconscious, and left the car where it stood. No one approached them, but on the far side of a large garage a boy was hosing a car down. Lois wished he would keep his eyes away from them, but Kerr’s voice was low and cheerful.

  ‘Get straight up, darling, I’ll follow you in five minutes. Room thirty, on the second floor. Stay there until I come, and if Loftus is there, he’s got to stay too.’

  Lois smiled with a certain effort and slipped through the side door of the hotel. A page-boy led her towards the lift, taking her as far as the door of Number thirty. She felt exceptionally tired as she opened the door, and stepped inside. By habit, she closed it behind her.

  And then she stifled a cry on her lips.

  Standing in one corner of a large room was a tall, very fair man, with rather too prominent eyes. She recognised him at once, just as she recognised the menace of the gun in his right hand.

  It was Gregaroff Shirin.

  Chapter 16

  The First Big Step

  It was a dreadful shock for Lois and she found it impossible to hide the fact. She had not had the slightest suspicion that anything like this would happen, although she had suspected, despite the ease of their capture of the man they believed to be a fanatic, that others had watched them along the road to the city. But that Shirin should be here, before them, proved that Kryn knew at which hotel they had booked. There had been a leakage of information somewhere, and for once Craigie’s network of spies had lost a thread.

  Shirin was smiling, very well satisfied.

  ‘Come in, my dear lady. At last I am happy to know who works with our friend Kerr.’

  Lois smiled in answer: in the moment that had passed since seeing the man, both her nerve and her poise had returned. Her one wish was to get at the automatic in her bag, but Shirin did not look as though he would be easily hoodwinked.

  And Kerr had sent her up alone: Kerr never did things or took chances without a reason.

  ‘It’s good to feel you’re satisfied,’ she said, and walked to the easiest chair. She sank down slowly, casually, dropping her bag on a small coffee table near her. ‘Oh, I’m tired!’

  Shirin’s eyes held a glint of admiration.

  ‘So. Not, perhaps, as tired as you will be, Miss – ’

  ‘Dale.’

  Whether he was doubtful of the truth of that or not he did not say, but his gun moved a fraction.

  ‘Thank you. It is most pitiful that you come for a visit to this beautiful city, and then you are not allowed to benefit, eh? And so unwise of Kerr to use a woman. They cannot be made to stop talking, eh?’

  ‘They have that reputation,’ admitted Lois.

  Shirin smiled, very widely.

  ‘It is good that you understand. There are a few questions you will be asked, and if they are answered – well, I believe that the Vallenians can be most hospitable. Otherwise – who
knows? But come, we are in a hurry, Miss Dale. Any time now, I have reason to believe, Kerr will arrive. He will be most shocked to find the bird flown, eh? Now you have rested, I suggest the door by me, and then – the fire escape, that is your word for it? Most convenient, Miss Dale. Please! Do not make the mistake of moving the wrong way.’

  Two things came to Lois’s mind.

  She was in no immediate danger if she did as she was told, and Shirin wanted to get her away from the hotel. That might conceivably be Kerr’s idea, too, but if it was, why had he not warned her?

  She stood up slowly.

  ‘What undertaking do you give that I shall be safe if I come with you, Mr Shirin?’

  The Russian’s eyes flickered: it was obvious to Lois that he had not expected her to know his name. But there was something malicious in his smile, and his too prominent eyes reminded her unpleasantly of the fanatic in the back of the car.

  ‘It is hard for me to say, Miss Dale. On others than me rests such things as that.’

  Lois stepped towards the door by which the man was standing and as she got near him she tried a shot in the dark.

  ‘I see. The Princess has a reputation for being a good hostess, I understand.’

  ‘The – Princess!’

  She had flung more than a shot in the dark: her words had the effect of a bomb. In that second she could have dashed the gun out of Shirin’s hand, but she resisted the temptation. There was some purpose in this she was sure, and she had no desire to damage Kerr’s schemes. One of the troubles of working with Kerr was the difficulty of following his tortuous thought, but he rarely thought wrongly.

  ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ Lois asked smilingly. ‘Surely you didn’t think –’

  Lois looked at Shirin: but she was seeing a different man. The suavity had gone, and in its place was a flaming anger. He gripped her wrist, twisting her arm so viciously that her cheeks went pale with the sudden pain.

  ‘Talk! Who told you that?’

  She said coldly: ‘Let me go.’

  ‘Talk!’ His eyes were blazing, very close to hers, and she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. The man looked a devil, but it was because he was afraid. Afraid! And if she stalled him again he would break her arm.

  ‘Craigie told me.’

  Shirin flung her away, and she staggered against the door.

  ‘Get outside, you bitch.’

  She felt weak, physically and mentally. The pain in her elbow was getting worse instead of better, and her stomach was queasy. She wished she had taken the chance that he had once given her, but it was too late.

  Where was Kerr? Why had he sent her alone? What was the game he was playing?

  She reached the iron grille fire-escape, and now Shirin had her other wrist, holding it tightly and forcing her down.

  The Hotel Renol was built on a square, with a courtyard inside the four walls. Perhaps twenty people were there, but no one glanced up at them. To look at there was nothing unusual in two people coming from the same room.

  She was walking downwards quickly. Once she glanced round, seeing Shirin’s face tense as they neared ground level. He was desperately afraid of interruption, and her mind was clear enough for her to wonder why Shirin – one of the leaders, she had believed – should have acted the part of a plain thug.

  If he got her away, she knew she could expect no mercy.

  She shivered, despite the lazy warmth of the evening. They reached the bottom step. A narrow passage led from the courtyard to the street. She saw cars passing as Shirin urged her towards it. She glanced round quickly, desperately, in the hope of seeing Kerr.

  And then an unbounded relief flooded her mind, and the tension of her body relaxed. Doors led from the hotel to the passage, and from one of them an enormous figure emerged. Despite the almost shaven head, the short quiff at the front, despite the baggy, ill-fitting clothes, she recognised Bill Loftus, now Herr Schmidt, traveller in wines!

  He was wearing large, round glasses that gave him an expression of perpetual surprise. Perhaps he was surprised to see them, but she doubted it. His expression did not change as he came towards them, blinking short-sightedly as he met the full light of day.

  Shirin showed no sign of suspicion.

  Loftus drew level with them, and for a dreadful moment Lois thought she had been mistaken.

  And then, as he passed, Loftus shot out his right hand. It fastened round Shirin’s forearm, jerking the hand from his pocket and the gun inside. Shirin’s face went livid, and his cry rang out involuntarily.

  ‘Right about turn,’ murmured Loftus in his ear, the muzzle of his gun poking into the Russian’s ribs. Shirin turned round like an automaton. Behind those absurd glasses Loftus winked at Lois.

  ‘Lead the way, fraulein, if you will be so kind.’

  In a daze Lois went back along the fire escape.

  The rear door of the suite was unlatched. Lois again went in first, but this time she went more carefully, to see Kerr stretched out on a settee, his eyes closed, a cigarette between his lips. In a corner, bound and gagged, lay the fanatic.

  ‘Look at the lazy, beggar,’ said Loftus, closing the door. Shirin spat out an oath that Loftus did not feel was suitable for a lady’s ears. He clouted the Russian, sending him staggering across the room.

  On seeing Lois, Kerr jumped up quickly.

  ‘Lois, my dear, I had to take that risk. If I’d said a word you wouldn’t have convinced Gregaroff that you were surprised.’

  Lois rubbed her wrist, and Kerr saw the Russian’s finger marks. His expression as he glanced towards the prostrate Shirin was not pleasant.

  ‘I see. Well, two can play that game. What did he want?’

  Lois explained the gist of their conversation, including the fact that Shirin had virtually admitted that the Princess was in the game. At mention of Katrina Loftus looked up quickly.

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘The lovely Princess Kat,’ said Kerr, his eyes narrowing. ‘And that makes it look as though she’s working on her own, irrespective of any political party. Lois – will you hop into the bedroom for ten minutes?’

  The door had barely shut on her when Shirin was on his feet, facing the two grim-eyed, powerfully-built men who obviously intended to have no nonsense.

  ‘I will – I will tell you! All I know, all!’

  ‘Proceed,’ murmured Mr Loftus.

  ‘It – it is not much!’ Shirin was wailing, terrified lest the others should think he was holding back. ‘For a year – just more than a year – I have been working. Me and von Hauf and Criff. Adolf Kryn – he was giving the instructions, not until last week did I know the Princess was involved.’

  ‘When you say working,’ asked Kerr, ‘what does it mean?’

  Shirin waved his hands wildly.

  ‘First – it was among the people, here. Like Doriennet. Making them ship the wrong goods, yes, to England. Those who would not – we forced!’

  ‘How?’ Kerr knew, but wanted confirmation.

  ‘We – we would threaten them. Frighten, yes! Once – twice – perhaps more – we sank ships.’

  ‘I see,’ said Kerr very gently. ‘And were there crews on board those ships?’

  ‘But yes, of course.’

  ‘You had boats standing by, to pick them out of the sea?’ asked Kerr.

  ‘Certainly not! Why –’

  Shirin suddenly understood the drift of the question, realising that he was confessing to the murder of a dozen or more sailors, who had no more knowledge of the reason for their death than a two-year-old child. There was something deadly in Kerr’s expression then.

  ‘I see. And you arranged this, I suppose, by placing time bombs on board?’

  ‘It was not me! I was ordered. Kryn –’

  ‘Why did you do it?’ The question was like the slash of a whip.

  ‘I – it was my work! I was paid to do it.’

  Kerr waved the protests aside.

  ‘All right. Your part was to
arrange these things, and to put pressure on the merchants. What did von Hauf do?’

  Just what von Hauf did was, it seemed, uncertain.

  One of his tasks was to reckon the amount of trade that was being lost between the two countries. Apparently he did all the manipulating of figures himself; that might have been work enough for one man, although it hardly justified giving the German a prominent part in the affair.

  ‘And Criff?’ asked Kerr.

  ‘Criff – he was so used to it, yes.’

  ‘To what?’ demanded Kerr, and Shirin looked towards the door, desperately, as though he hoped that someone would come in and save him from telling all that he knew. But the door was shut and locked.

  ‘To – to providing – providing – ’ Shirin was gulping, and then it came with a rush. ‘To providing food, in times of war! All arrangements were for him, yes, he was the best man in the world for it, his business, it was the biggest! He had prepared – it is all ready! And then – then you found Criff. You caught him. Kryn, he was watching. He know that Criff says that Prell is working. To stop all other things being told, Kryn telephones – to the Princess. She arrange for the death of Prell. Kryn, he kills Criff –’

  Kerr and Loftus stared at him, stony-eyed. Both men sat absolutely motionless.

  It all went as they had expected.

  Prell’s death and Criff’s had been arranged because Kerr had discovered – through Falling’s death, which had not after all been futile – how deeply Criff had been in the affair of Vallena, and the effort to break off trading relations between Vallena and England.

  But Criff had organised the provisions for war. For war!

  Kerr brushed his hand across his forehead.

  He said simply: ‘What war?’

  Shirin’s eyes were more prominent than ever, and his lips were shaking and wet. The man’s fear was genuine, and Kerr knew he was telling the truth.

  ‘I do not know! Criff, he has been everywhere! France – Germany – Poland – Russia – all over Europe! You must know that! But where he has been working I was not told! I –’

  Kerr stood up, and Shirin cowered back. But Kerr was smiling, if not altogether with humour. He felt a savage satisfaction at what he had learned.