Go Away Death Read online

  He pulled the car up outside the house, which was large and rambling. The garden was unkempt; the soil had not been turned for years, and the lawns had been allowed to grow into seed, and then lie fallow. There was a powerful stench of rotting vegetation.

  ‘H’m,’ said Mike. ‘I suppose Jimmy didn’t make a mistake?’

  ‘He did not,’ said Loftus. ‘Cars have been here, and in the past few hours. Our other fellows are doing well, aren’t they?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Mark.

  ‘We haven’t seen a sign of them,’ said Loftus. ‘But the bobby said they were here. Mark, you go in that direction, Mike, you go in this, and tell them to close in. Ned and I will try the house itself.’

  The Errols knew better than to argue, although they were in telepathic agreement, thinking that Loftus would be well advised to approach with greater care than it seemed he was proposing. But Loftus opened the wide wooden gates, blocked them with stones, and then rejoined Oundle in the Jaguar, swinging the car round into the drive.

  He pulled up outside the front door.

  ‘Nice work,’ said Ned Oundle. ‘If they’d wanted a stab at us, you made it too fast for them. What’s next?’

  Loftus screwed up his eyes.

  ‘I—don’t—know,’ he said slowly. ‘The place seems too neglected to have been in use very much. It looks as if we might be on another white elephant, old son.’ He was clearly afraid that that was so, and Oundle had rarely seen him look more disappointed. But Loftus tightened his lips, went up the three stone steps, and then rapped loudly on the peeling front door. The iron knocker was rusted over, as was the letter-box.

  A hollow echo sounded from inside the house.

  Loftus tried again, but there was no response. He shrugged, waiting for a few minutes, until Mike and Mark appeared, hurrying up the drive. They reported that the house was surrounded by Department men at close quarters.

  Loftus turned.

  ‘Check if there’s a side entrance as well,’ he told them, ‘and if there is, one of you stay there, the other stay by the back.’ He was drawing on a glove as he spoke and, on his last word, he drove his clenched fist through a panel of frosted glass in the front door.

  The crack of the splintering panel, and the tinkling of glass falling both inside and outside, were the only sounds which followed him.

  He pushed his arm through the hole, found the catch, and slid it back. The door opened easily, and he and Ned Oundle stepped into a lofty, empty hall. There were cobwebs and there was dust, but there was no evidence of occupation—or there seemed not to be, until Loftus bent down and picked up from the floor the squashed stub of a cigarette.

  The end was damp.

  ‘Yes, it’s been occupied recently,’ he said, ‘but it looks like a rendezvous of convenience, and they probably haven’t left much behind.’

  ‘What about Wally?’ asked Mike, who had forced an entrance through the back door, closely followed by Mark.

  ‘He could be here,’ admitted Loftus. ‘I’ll take the upper rooms, with Ned. You two make what you can of the ground floor and cellars, if any.’

  He started up the wide, uncarpeted stairs, distributing dust with every step, and seeing ahead of him the evidence of other footsteps. It was impossible to judge how many people had been in the house recently, but from the cluster of footprints in the dust on the first landing the number had been considerable.

  Paper was peeling from the landing walls and from the walls of every room they went into. Now and again they could hear the murmur of voices from below stairs; sounds carried a long way in the emptiness of Number 18, and even their own breathing seemed loud. They did not speak as they went from room to room, finding the same desolate prospect each time.

  ‘No go,’ said Ned at last.

  Loftus shrugged. ‘We’ll see. There’s another floor.’

  He had seen a third set of windows from the street, but they did not find the staircase leading to the second floor for some minutes. Eventually they discovered that it led from a small room which they had nearly missed, the outer door of which was papered to match the wall, and not easily discernible.

  Climbing up the staircase, which was steep and gloomy, they reached a narrow landing, from which three doors led, each of them shut. Together they approached the first. It opened easily, revealing yet another dusty, empty room. Then they tried the handles of the second and third doors, but these remained firm.

  Loftus played with the handle of the second door for some seconds, and then shrugged.

  ‘Bolted, I think. We’ll try this one first.’

  He drew back, then launched his vast frame against the door. It quivered violently, and the crash echoed about the landing and went even further, for faintly from below there came a cry:

  ‘You—all—right?’ It was Mark or Mike.

  ‘Yes!’ called Ned.

  Once again Loftus threw his weight against the door, and this time it offered little resistance, swinging inwards with a loud splintering noise.

  The room was not empty.

  There was a camp bed in one corner, a chair and a small table. By the table was a decanter of water, and several books, although what use either books or water were likely to be to the occupant of the bed they did not know.

  Loftus and Ned stared, for perhaps ten seconds. Then they were both galvanised into action, reaching the bedside at the same time.

  Looking at them with wide open eyes, eyes filled with alarm, was a girl; her mouth covered with a tightly-drawn scarf, her body bound securely to the bed.

  7

  ‘Up she goes’

  Loftus smiled down at the girl.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ he said, and the nonchalant nature of the words, together with the transforming effect of his smile, were both calculated to reassure her. He added:

  ‘Untie her, Ned. I’m going next door.’

  He tried to empty his mind of the dread possibilities which the discovery engendered as he went on to the landing again, and there saw Mike Errol. Mike’s hair was ruffled, and there was a cobweb smeared across his ears to his chin. His hands were blackened as if with coaldust, and there was a dark patch on the knee of his right trouser-leg.

  ‘There’s nothing below,’ he said.

  Loftus didn’t speak, but turned his attention to the third door. This time it gave way at the first onslaught, and he was precipitated into the room.

  He put a hand to the floor to save himself from complete disaster, and straightened up; but the assault had carried him half-way across the room, and before he stood upright he kicked against a man lying on the floor.

  It was Wally Davidson.

  His coat was torn, his collar undone, and he was bound and gagged. Dust and dirt were all over him, and grimed on to his face by perspiration which had poured from his forehead and then dried.

  Loftus freed his mouth, which had been secured by a necktie, drawn very tightly. The corners of his lips, and parts of his cheeks, were red and inflamed, and Wally gulped two or three times while trying to speak. He made no sound but an incoherent muttering.

  Loftus said: ‘Hold it, old man.’

  Wally had his mouth half-open, and Loftus inserted a finger and slowly prised out a small handkerchief, rolled into a ball and now sodden with saliva. Wally retched, and after a few seconds began to breathe very heavily.

  ‘Gerrow, gerrow? he muttered, nodding violently towards the door. ‘Gerrow, gerrow, blow-ar, blow-ar.’ His eyes rolled, and he nodded to the door yet again, with a desperation which in itself would have told Loftus what was the matter.

  Wally was trying to say:

  ‘Get out—blow up.’

  Loftus rose to his feet bent down, and with no great effort lifted Wally bodily from the floor. He reached the door as Mike appeared, empty-handed.

  ‘We’re getting out,’ Loftus snapped. ‘Tell Ned, and make it fast.’

  He went as quickly as he could to the top of the stairs. Before he reached the small
room from which the staircase led, Mike was coming after him, carrying the girl, with Ned Oundle close behind him. They reached the main landing, and went down the wide staircase at good speed, Loftus warning the others what was likely to happen. As they reached the porch Loftus saw two men in a tangle of shrubs and long grass near the drive. He recognized his own agents, and raised his voice to a stentorian bellow which must have reached the ears of anyone within a hundred yards radius.

  ‘Get away from here!’

  The two men disappeared, and there were sounds of rustling and running from all about the grounds. In a matter of seconds, more men appeared, as if from nowhere, climbed to the top of the fence which surrounded the house, and dropped to the other side.

  Reaching the Jaguar, which he had left with its nose pointing towards the gate, Loftus pushed Wally into the back seat, then slipped behind the wheel. Ned got in beside him. Mike bundled the girl in with Wally, then got in beside Ned. The engine purred into life.

  The car was just outside the gate, and turning into Galloway Road, when it happened.

  The roar was devastating, shattering against the eardrums, deafening them. The blast, following a split-second later, lifted the car two feet from the ground, and although it landed on all four wheels Loftus was afraid for a moment that it would be out of control. But the engine did not stop, and he managed to keep it on the roadway.

  He half-turned his head—and saw 18 Galloway Road going up into the air.

  It did not go in one piece, although for the first moment it seemed as if that was happening. It broke up, like a pack of stacked cards, and then the pieces went higher and wider. Small objects began to fall about the road and the car. Men who had hurried away at Loftus’s shout were flung to the ground, glass broke up and down the road, a piece of granite from Number 18 fell between one of the flattened men and a lamp-post, bounced, and sent the lamppost flat but missed the man.

  Something tore through the wind-screen, and for some seconds there was a constant rattle on the wings and the body. The roar of the explosion seemed to be in their ears for a long time, but finally it faded, leaving only a drumming; the hail of debris stopped.

  Loftus accelerated desperately. He had to be clear before the explosion brought the residents of Galloway Road out to investigate.

  They reached Brook Street in half-an-hour, and by this time both Wally and the girl had recovered sufficiently to be able to walk up the stairs. In the last ten minutes of the drive Wally had talked, although he had little enough constructive information.

  He had followed the man whom Jimmy Mayo had pointed out to him, had trailed him as far as Galloway Road, then after making a survey of No. 18, had turned towards the nearest telephone kiosk. Before he had reached it he had been cracked on the head, and remembered little more; although he did recall seeing flashes from what he thought were silenced guns.

  Mike told him how Jimmy had given the alarm.

  Wally’s eyes widened.

  ‘Game little beggar,’ he said. ‘We owe him a lot—and I owe him even more.’

  ‘The country might owe him plenty, too,’ said Loftus, and this time could look at the girl without risk, for the car was parked outside the flat.

  Upstairs, a policeman was waiting. He saluted, and reported that arrangements had been made for the patient to go to a nursing home, and would Mr. Loftus get in touch with the doctor?

  ‘Yes, I will,’ said Loftus. ‘Thanks a lot, constable.’

  ‘That’s all right, sir. Glad to be of service.’ The man knew Loftus and his friends well enough to show no particular curiosity. ‘Like me to stay here, sir? I’ve been detailed to do anything you want.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Loftus. ‘Wait on the landing, will you?’

  Inside the flat, he looked at the girl evenly. She was tall, only five or six inches shorter than his six-feet-three.

  ‘Ned, show Miss—,’ he paused.

  ‘My name is Weston,’ said the girl quietly.

  ‘Show Miss Weston next door, will you? She’ll be glad to tidy up.’

  All of the regular Department men present were surprised by that request, for the flat next to Loftus’s had, at one time, been occupied by Diana. A special communicating door had been made between the two flats, connecting the respective landings. Since Diana had left for America, Loftus had maintained it in readiness for her return.

  It was a considerable effort now, for him to let this strange girl walk into her flat.

  But it was useless, he told himself, to brood, to overdo the sentimentality. The air disaster had happened, and he had to look forward, not backward. The flat was there, and it might as well be used. The girl needed half-an-hour to wash, use powder and lipstick; her own was badly smeared. As she started towards the door, with Ned, Loftus smiled and said:

  ‘You’ll find most of the things you’ll need, I think.’

  ‘Thank—thank you.’ She was a little uncertain of herself, which was hardly surprising. Loftus did not watch her go out of the lounge, but stepped to a cabinet, opened it, and took out whiskey. Mike, Mark and Wally were all equally glad of a drink. Loftus, usually very sparing, took a strong one. He lit a cigarette, pursed his lips, then said evenly:

  ‘Well, our main hope is the girl. Had you seen her before, Wally?’

  ‘No,’ said Wally.

  ‘You’d no idea she was there?’

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘H’m. How did you know about the blow-up?’

  ‘I heard two of the swine talking, Bill. They were a tough bunch, one way and the other. By tough I mean rough-necks. They apparently knew just what they were doing, and there was some talk about a fuse, and watching from the tow-path—you reached that from the end of the street, perhaps you noticed.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Loftus. His eyes narrowed and he considered that interesting item of information. The street had been watched, and the explosion timed for the moment he was inside the house. Clearly Jimmy Mayo’s escape had been realised in its full significance, and the ‘rough-necks’ had tried to turn it to their full advantage.

  He could go a step further.

  The explosives must have been buried at the house for some time, suggesting that sooner or later it had been planned to lure him and the others to the house. Jimmy had forestalled the move, that was all.

  A ring at the door broke into his train of thought. Mike went to open it. Standing squarely across the threshold, and effectively blocking the entrance, was the policeman who had been left on duty on the landing. A tall, distinguished looking man was trying to get past him. It was Cyrus Hoppermann.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the constable. ‘There’s a gentleman here who says—’

  ‘Loftus, what absurd nonsense is this?’ demanded the American.

  Loftus said evenly: ‘All right, officer, thanks. But stop anyone else who wants to come through, just as you have this gentleman. Come in, Hoppermann.’

  The American made no attempt to cover his annoyance.

  ‘Do you always make a habit of guarding your front door?’ he demanded.

  ‘Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t?’ asked Loftus coldly. ‘The man had orders, and obeyed them. Why try to get past him? If you reckoned on the surprise effect of your call, you needn’t have troubled. Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I—I want your advice,’ Hoppermann said with apparent reluctance.

  ‘That’s surprising,’ said Loftus. ‘I advised you to stay at the Embassy, but you rejected the suggestion. Are you likely to be more attentive to anything else?’

  He stopped suddenly, as the communicating door between the two flats swung open. The girl stepped through, and even in that moment Loftus saw enough to realise that her appearance had been transformed by skillful attention. But that faded into insignificance as Hoppermann looked towards her and then stared, wide-eyed, his lips parted.

  ‘Christine! What are you doing here?’

  There was a slight pause, and then Chris
tine Weston said:

  ‘Hallo, father.’

  She spoke without warmth or enthusiasm.

  8

  Christine

  The initial shock of that brief exchange soon passed. Loftus stepped forward toward the girl.

  ‘I don’t need to introduce you, I can see.’

  Hoppermann turned on him.

  ‘What is this, Loftus? What is my daughter doing here? Are you endeavouring to pry into my private affairs?’

  Loftus smiled faintly.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Miss—’

  ‘She’s not Miss,’ snapped Hoppermann.

  ‘I’m sorry. Mrs. Weston came here quite by chance, needing a little assistance.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Hoppermann flatly.

  ‘That’s too bad,’ said Loftus.

  There was an awkward pause, then Hoppermann raised his hands helplessly.

  ‘This is absurd, Loftus. We are always at cross-purposes. I have been given to understand that you are more likely to be able to help me than anyone else, but how can I ask for your assistance if you are continually obstructive?’

  Loftus smiled freely.

  ‘It is a bit difficult, isn’t it? After all, you’re prejudiced against us, and I’ve returned the compliment. But we can forget that for the time being. I was just going to talk with Mrs. Weston, but if you’re in a hurry—’

  ‘I can hear what she has to say, surely.’

  Loftus eyed the girl.

  She nodded, and there was a faint smile on her lips; she had a very well-shaped mouth. Her hair was dark, and in the last few moments she had contrived not only to make it tidy, but to bring a wave to it, with a glossy sheen which was very attractive.

  Her wrists were bandaged, half-covered by the long sleeves of a flowered frock, which Loftus recognized as Diana’s.

  Then he saw that she wore a solitaire engagement ring and a slim circlet of white gold or platinum. He did not know why he had been surprised to learn that she was married.