The Day of Disaster Read online

  Loftus drew a deep breath.

  ‘You’re more temperamental than a musical comedy star,’ he said. ‘Heaven help the woman who marries you!’ He winked at Marion, as he got busy on the telephone. Marion saw that something of Hammond’s excitement had transferred itself to the other man. After the instructions had gone out, Hammond told Loftus in brief what he had told Marion, talking quickly, almost agitatedly. When he had finished there was a short silence in the room.

  Marion broke it.

  ‘Bruce, if he’s going to disappear, isn’t it obvious that he’ll go in the black-out?’

  Hammond chuckled.

  ‘Obvious that he’ll try, no more. I’m going to be the most disappointed man in England if he does get away without any trace.’ He was suddenly anxious. ‘The other fellows can make sure of him, Bill, can’t they?’

  ‘If anyone can, yes,’ said Loftus. ‘I’m not going to start worrying myself in case Crayshaw slips through our fingers when we’ve nearly a dozen men watching him.’

  ‘But he can adopt some kind of disguise,’ insisted Marion, ‘and you needn’t say that’s Lyceum-ish, Bruce, it could be done well enough to make him look different at a casual glance, or a glance in the dark. Supposing he shaved off his beard and moustache, for instance?’

  Hammond said: ‘You’re beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. His beard and moustache, yes... I’d assumed that he had to keep those, but——’

  For the third time he was interrupted. He went to the telephone and lifted it quickly, grew more eager as he listened, and then snapped: ‘Yes ... a black Rolls-Royce ... eh? ... that was his car, all right, what did they take him away in? ... an Austin 20 with a spray of fresh white paint on the offside rear wing ...’ His voice was rising as he spoke; Loftus had got to his feet and was standing near him, in the grip of an excitement emanating from Hammond’s tense voice. ‘Two bunches of you after it? ... yes, I’ll get it put out at once.’

  He banged the receiver down, and snapped: ‘He was snatched as he walked out of the building to his car, and bundled into a black Austin, but you’ll have gathered that. The Errols are in their Bentley after him. Davidson and Carruthers are also on the road. We want a general police call out to have that car traced but not apprehended. We must find where he goes.’

  ‘We’ll find out,’ said Loftus grimly.

  He contacted with Miller, who put out the call. Reports were telephoned from various points along the road to Scotland Yard, and relayed to Loftus and Hammond at the flat. Staines, Egham, Camberley, Hook, Basingstoke, then on the Salisbury Road, through Whitchurch and Andover, southwards to Amesbury, Salisbury itself, Shaftesbury.

  Hammond said: ‘His place is near Dorchester. It looks as if he’s going there.’

  ‘Ye—es,’ said Loftus. ‘It’s getting dark, but he’ll make it before the black-out.’ His hair was dishevelled, as was Hammond’s, and he was sitting over the telephone, ready to lift the receiver at the first quiver of the bell.

  The telephone bell rang.

  ‘My turn, I think,’ said Hammond. ‘This should be from the nearest town to his home ... hallo, yes, speaking ... what?

  He shouted the word.

  He asked for something to be repeated, speaking in a tense but otherwise unfamiliar voice, grunted, replaced the receiver, and then turned to face them.

  ‘The car’s reached his place,’ he told the others harshly. ‘But Crayshaw’s body had been thrown out. Yes, quite dead.’

  20

  Crayshaw Grange

  While Loftus and Marion were staring at Hammond and trying to realise the full import of what he said, Hammond moved to his chair, picked up a note book, and began to read the quick jottings he had made. There were notes of the towns through which the car had gone, and of messages telephoned from the Errols and from the Davidson-Carruthers car. Before either of the others spoke, he said sharply: ‘It doesn’t necessarily finish there. The car was twice out of sight for twenty minutes or more.’

  ‘Well, what difference does that make?’ demanded Loftus.

  ‘They tried to make us believe that one dead man was Craigie,’ said Hammond. ‘They might be trying to make us believe that this dead man is Crayshaw.’ He thrust his hands deep in his pockets, rose a little on his toes, and then said: ‘Has Hershall got an understudy?’

  Loftus frowned. ‘There’s a man named Fenn in the Foreign Office, similar enough to him to get cheered in Whitehall sometimes. What’s the idea?’

  ‘Will he take a chance?’

  ‘Probably, if he knows what it is.’

  ‘Right!’

  Marion had imagined that the effect of the latest report would be to depress him thoroughly. Instead he looked eager and alert. ‘Now listen, both of you. I think that the plan for the twenty-first is neither more nor less than the kidnapping of the Prime Minister.’

  He could not have caused a bigger sensation had he thrown a bomb in the room.

  Both Loftus and Marion stared at him as if he had gone mad.

  Hammond said sharply: ‘Surely you can see what a coup it would be? If the Nazis could get Hershall, bang would go the greater part of the British war effort. What a triumph for them!’

  ‘Snatching—the P.M.,’ said Loftus weakly.

  ‘Now come, grow up,’ said Hammond, but he was smiling. ‘You see why I kept it to myself. You see what you two would have said had I advanced the suggestion twenty-four hours ago?’

  ‘If you’ll give just two reasons why——’ began Loftus, to be cut short as Hammond said:

  ‘No, Bill, I can’t give reasons off-hand; they need explaining and there isn’t time. Can you get that Foreign Office cover here in the next hour?’

  Loftus hesitated, and then said: ‘I’d better go to see him.’ He pulled himself from his chair, stepped to the telephone and dialled a number. He was connected quickly. A brief conversation ensued, and then he rang off. ‘He’s still there,’ he told Hammond. ‘I’ll ring you if anything further turns up. What about the P.M.?’

  ‘I’m going to ring him,’ said Hammond reflectively. ‘I wonder how he’ll take it? I wonder——’

  He dialled the Prime Minister’s number, glancing at his watch as he did so.

  ‘He’s probably having a nap,’ Loftus called from the door. ‘He does, about this time. May his temper be sweet.’

  ‘Go away,’ said Hammond testily.

  A secretary answered him; he was referred to a second, and then to a third. To them all he gave his name and insisted that he must speak to Hershall in person, and on an urgent matter. After some delay he heard Hershall’s voice, sharp, forbidding.

  ‘All right, what is it?’

  ‘I think we’re ready for something to break,’ said Hammond briskly. ‘Crayshaw, or a man purporting to be Crayshaw, has been killed near Crayshaw Grange, sir.’

  He heard an exclamation, and then Hershall’s voice reached him again, the powerful voice of a man in control.

  ‘You’re sure of this?’

  ‘Either it’s Crayshaw or someone very like him,’ said Hammond. ‘And I think it means we’ve forced them into acting quicker than they planned. I want——’ he paused, then amended: ‘I wonder if you have any objection to it being said that you’re going to Crayshaw Grange tonight, instead of tomorrow.’

  ‘What the dickens are you talking about?’ demanded Hershall.

  ‘Loftus tells me there is a man who can be passed off as you, sir,’ said Hammond doggedly. ‘I would like to use him, in Dorset. If you could telephone the Grange and say you will be along before midnight, it would be a great help.’

  After a pause, Hershall said:

  ‘What exactly are you driving at, Hammond?’

  Marion saw Hammond’s lips tighten. He appeared to be marshalling his thoughts before he spoke, but Hershall did not hurry him.

  ‘From the time that I first heard that you were likely to be at the Grange, sir,’ said Hammond, ‘I tried to find a motive for what has happened. It
could hardly be concerned directly with manoeuvres, but the manoeuvres obviously played a part in it, since we had the H.G. involved. The conference was important, but after all, the information there could be obtained in bits and pieces, and the preparations, the warnings, everything that has happened suggests something rather larger than a spy at the conference. If that was all we would hardly have been warned.’

  Hershall said tersely: ‘Go on.’

  ‘In fact, the warnings seemed to be deliberately aimed at postponing the conference. You’ll recall that we got the warnings only after the letter from Langham, in France, had been found. The plans were seriously disturbed by that, and so an attempt was made to confuse the issue and to get the date altered. That didn’t matter, because a new date would be fixed, and they could learn that as easily as they learned of this one. Anyhow, sir, it seemed to me that the conference as such wasn’t the important thing, but that its being staged at Crayshaw Grange was.’

  Marion saw the way Hammond’s free left hand was clenching and unclenching; clearly he was nervous, although nothing of that was reflected in his voice.

  ‘The Grange is near the coast,’ Hammond went on. ‘The manoeuvres take place near the coast and include plans for a mock-invasion, with the Home Guard taking place. We know that fifth-columnists were with the Home Guard, and the fact that some have been eliminated doesn’t mean they all have. Keeping those facts in mind, sir, I wondered how they could best be used to create an effective and really dangerous blow to the country. I thought that it would be comparatively easy for you to be kidnapped and taken out to sea. The invasion exercises to take place with actual craft, I think, would give a perfect opportunity for this. One boat amongst many, if its crew and passengers were in uniform, would hardly be noticed. Do you follow me?’

  There was a long pause from the other end.

  Then Hershall said: ‘Hammond, I cannot believe that Sir Noel Crayshaw would be a party to any such infamy.’

  ‘I haven’t all the data available yet, sir,’ said Hammond tensely, ‘but I am quite sure that the attempt was to be made with Crayshaw’s help—whether deliberate or unwitting I don’t yet know. At all events, if they believe you are going down tonight, and we have someone to take your place, I think we can force them to act sooner than they intended to.’

  There was another pause, and then Hershall said: ‘All right, Hammond.’

  Hammond drew in so deep a breath of relief that it could be heard throughout the room. ‘There’s just one other thing,’ he said carefully, ‘if you’re known to be in London all the evening——’

  Hershall actually chuckled. ‘Don’t worry about that, I will have it put around that I’ve left for the country. I’ll be here all night, call me as soon as you have some results, no matter what time it is.’

  ‘I will, sir,’ said Hammond warmly.

  He looked at Marion as he replaced the receiver, and his eyes were very bright.

  ‘Now all we want is word from Bill,’ he said. ‘Marion, we’re on the last lap.’

  Gordon Craigie had no idea that he was at Crayshaw Grange.

  He knew that he was in an attic room; but the windows were in the ceiling, and the glass was toughened; he had made several efforts to break it, but unsuccessfully.

  The room was furnished comfortably enough, with a couple of easy chairs, a bed, a shelf of books. A small bathroom and lavatory led from it, and there was plenty of hot water. Since the first interview with Crayshaw, however, he had seen no one but the man who had brought his food. He was, in fact, expecting the man to bring his evening meal at any moment, for it was nearly half-past seven.

  But it was Crayshaw who entered. He moved forward with a cat-like tread, standing eventually between Craigie and the shelf of books he had been contemplating.

  ‘I want your full attention, Craigie,’ he said.

  Craigie shrugged.

  ‘You have it.’

  ‘Ah, very accommodating of you, Craigie. You are, perhaps, a little bored? I am about to rectify that, for tonight you will have, for a few hours, distinguished company.’

  ‘Yes?’ Craigie’s voice held the slightly bored note of polite formality.

  ‘Most distinguished company,’ Crayshaw said softly. ‘Indeed, the Prime Minister himself.’

  Craigie crossed his legs, smiling a little.

  ‘Don’t you think your optimistic announcement may be a little premature?’

  Crayshaw snapped: ‘Your men had no idea what was planned!’

  ‘We—ell,’ said Craigie, ‘nor did I. But a little hard reasoning made it fairly obvious that you were hoping to kidnap Hershall.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think you’ll succeed.’

  ‘I’ll succeed,’ Crayshaw said shortly. ‘He’s coming tonight. The plans have been altered.’ The words rose in a crescendo of triumph.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll succeed, Crayshaw.’ Craigie smiled again, and picked up his book.

  Crayshaw knocked it out of his hands.

  ‘Listen to me! I’m taking you and Hershall across the Channel, and once you’re there the whole of the Continental radio link-up will broadcast the news. It will spread like wild-fire, no one in this country will fail to know about it. Hershall and Craigie—the Prime Minister and the Secret Service leader, the two most important men in England today.’

  Craigie said: ‘Don’t be absurd, I don’t rate in the first hundred. And Crayshaw, I’m getting hungry——’

  ‘Hungry!’ shouted Crayshaw. ‘You’ll know what it is to starve, to beg for bread and water, you’ll know what it is to plead for mercy! You and Hershall, you’ll be tortured and starved, you’ll be broken in body and in spirit, you’ll give all the information we want, you’ll do just as you’re told. Hungry! You don’t know what is going to happen to you, you don’t know——’

  Craigie snapped: ‘Stop this drivel!’

  He stood up abruptly, forcing Crayshaw to step back. Crayshaw’s right hand dropped to his pocket, and Craigie’s eyes narrowed again, but he made no further comment. He watched the bearded man’s tongue running along his lips, and then Crayshaw spoke in a more controlled voice.

  ‘Drivel, is it? You’ll learn differently, Craigie; you’ll learn how serious it is. And I conceived this plan, Craigie. It was I who saw the possibilities, and obtained permission from Berchtesgaden. The conception and the execution has been mine from start to finish!’

  Craigie said: ‘Execution is a well-chosen word, Crayshaw.’

  He thought the man would strike him. Crayshaw half drew his right hand from his pocket, and Craigie saw the glint of steel. ‘Soon you’ll regret that, Craigie, very soon.’ He laughed, and the sound was not pleasant. ‘Listen, Craigie, Hammond came to me this morning and told me what he thought. The darned fool, he gave himself away! So I arranged to be kidnapped, and without doubt, I was followed. So a man looking like me, a man with marks on the body exactly like mine, a man whose teeth have been stopped exactly like mine, was thrown out of the kidnappers’ car. He was quite dead, Craigie. Do you understand now?’

  Craigie said slowly: ‘I’ve always understood.’

  ‘You fool!’ snapped Crayshaw, and slapped the Chief of Department Z across the face. ‘You’ve no realisation of the immensity of this thing; you don’t understand that you are finished, that Hershall is finished, and that the country is beaten. Do you hear that, beaten! beaten! beaten!’

  Craigie smiled, wearily.

  ‘An assertion that’s been shrieked down the ages quite a number of times, I believe. I don’t recollect that it’s made much difference.’

  ‘You self-satisfied, smug, complacent English swine!’ snarled Crayshaw. ‘This time we’ve got you, we’ve——’

  There was a tap at the door. Still pointing his gun towards Craigie, Crayshaw called out:

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A message has just come through,’ said a voice which Craigie did not recognise. ‘The car left Downing Street fifteen minutes ago.’

 
Crayshaw shouted. ‘It’s left, he’s on the way! Now you will see, Craigie, now you will see!’

  The Right Honourable Graham Hershall lay on his bed smoking, deep in thought. Presently he pressed a bell for his secretary. His orders, when they came, were sharp and to the point. A car was to be placed at the disposal of Hammond and Department Z; one of his regular chauffeurs was to be at the wheel; one of his secretaries was to travel down with Fenn. The secretary, already aware of what was proposed, accepted the orders swiftly.

  ‘Telephone at once, Jim, to cancel all appointments for this evening. Yes, the dinner-party is off. Have a car round here by seven o’clock. I’m going out of town for the night.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘I hope it is,’ said Hershall.

  When the man had gone Hershall began to dress, muttering occasionally to himself. He did not believe Crayshaw would play this part, he said, and he was damned if he was going to stay in London while Hammond was putting his theory to the test. There was no need for him to reveal himself immediately he reached Crayshaw Grange, but: ‘If there’s a mill, I’m going to be at it,’ said Hershall loudly, and then chuckled to himself as he finished fastening his shoes.

  21

  Trek to Dorset

  Marion Caroll sat back against the upholstery of the big car, and looked at the men on either side of her; Loftus on her right, Hammond on her left. Because they had chosen to sit in the tonneau together, they were crowded against one another; Hammond’s arm lay across her shoulders, and occasionally his fingers brushed her cheek.

  She found herself trying to put thought of Bruce and Hershall aside, to concentrate on what was coming.

  She did not know all that was in Hammond’s mind, and she was quite sure that Loftus did not. She remembered the brief argument at the flat, when Loftus had said bluntly that nothing would keep him out of the final showdown, and she had gained courage enough to support him, and thus in turn, get his support for her own request to join the party.

  A young agent named Lester was at the wheel. Little was said in the tonneau, and the atmosphere of tension was greater than Marion had ever known it. She found the same thought running through her mind time and time again: why had Hammond wanted her to play the part she had? He had suggested that she nurse Hilary Crayshaw; but it was no more than an excuse.