Menace (Department Z) Read online

  Bettin pushed cigarettes across his desk.

  ‘I thought you’d have something to say. What doesn’t it fit in with?’

  ‘I won’t smoke, thanks. The way things are going. They’re not running too well. You had my report this morning about Criff, and the Vallenian business?’

  The Doriennet murder? Yes.’

  ‘Well, Criff’s dead. He talked a little, and then was shot by someone working – at one time – with him. It makes things awkward. But what makes it more interesting from our point of view is that Criff implicated Prell, before he died.’

  Bettin stared hard at his visitor.

  ‘Implicated Prell?’

  ‘What time was he shot?’ asked Craigie.

  ‘Greenwich mean time, about twelve-forty-five.’

  ‘As late as that, eh? Twelve-forty-five. I had word about the fire at Devennet Court at – when was it? – near enough twelve o’clock. Say Criff was shot, after he had talked, at about eleven forty-five. So they could have discovered that he’d given Prell away, called Baj and arranged for Prell to be killed because he was the obvious man we should go after.’ Craigie was looking paler than usual. ‘I don’t like this, Bettin. It looks now as though Prell was killed because Criff talked. It makes the whole show a damned sight more far-reaching, and a lot more complicated.’

  Craigie went on to give the Foreign Secretary a resumé of the affair to date. The Foreign Secretary took it quietly but it was difficult to say which of the two men seemed more worried when Craigie finally left the office. It was a quarter to three, and Craigie sent a messenger for sandwiches and made himself some coffee before he sat back and tried to work the thing out. Fellowes and Miller would be along at half-past three, and the Yard might, by now, have discovered something about the fire at Devennet Court. Might, for instance, have located Jones, Kryn or anyone else connected.

  But it was not likely.

  Three of his five telephones were humming when he entered the office, and he took each receiver off, telling the men at the other end to hold on. Then he started to take the reports, pencil and notebook in hand.

  Agent 39 reported that he and Agent 25 had lost Kryn. The man had left the Riltaz Hotel, and dodged them at Piccadilly. Before that he had been visited by a short man, youngish-looking, officially named Brown, and possessed of a pug face.

  ‘Ever seen him before?’ asked Craigie.

  ‘No – a new one on me.’

  ‘All right,’ said Craigie. ‘I’ll phone you a bit later.’

  He did not tell him what had happened since Kryn had evaded him. What was the use of worrying him, making him feel that in some measure at least he was responsible for the mess at Devennet Court? Craigie rarely blamed an agent for a mistake or a failure.

  Agent 6, or Dodo Trale, that immaculate and laconic young man who was the oldest agent on Craigie’s books in years of service, came next. Trale had been visiting Grattle Street, Harrow.

  ‘None of them know much, Gordon. We got all the information we can from them. One fellow – a man named Jensen – admitted knowing Criff was the man who phoned them, but that’s not an improvement on what we had before. How’re things?’

  Craigie explained, shortly. Trale was silent at the other end of the line for a moment. Then:

  ‘Want me?’

  ‘You’d better come up.’

  ‘Time for me to call at the hospital first?’

  ‘Yes, get here about four,’ said Craigie.

  He knew that Davidson and Trale were old friends, really close friends, and he could imagine what Trale would feel like if the affair ended fatally for Wally Davidson. Well – it was the game, the same deadly show that would see the end of them all in time – unless, like many of his best agents, they resigned automatically when they married.

  The Department had a set rule that no married men should be used, except in an emergency. Craigie was often heartily glad of it, although sometimes he would have given worlds for the services of the older men. But the responsibility of a family and the Department was too much. Craigie had to count on undivided attention.

  He picked up the third instrument, hoping it would be word from Lois Dacre. His pencil was poised, but a man’s voice came over the wire: moreover an unfamiliar one.

  Craigie’s body tensed.

  ‘Well, Craigie, isn’t it time you drew your men off?’

  Very quietly Craigie reached for one of the other telephones.

  ‘That would be rather foolish, wouldn’t it, when they’re doing so well?’

  ‘Well?’ queried the man at the other end of the wire with a macabre laugh. ‘Davidson, Carruthers and Falling, all dead or as good as dead. Kerr was lucky but he won’t last much longer, and you – but it would be much simpler if you withdrew. After all it doesn’t affect you personally, Craigie.’

  ‘Think not?’ asked Craigie. ‘It seems, however, to effect you that way.’

  The voice at the other end sounded less satisfied.

  ‘We warned –’

  Craigie laughed, although he was not feeling like laughter. His right finger was tapping out a message: long-short-long-short – he was giving instructions to the man at the other end of the line. It went direct to a secretary who had previously had to take Morse messages in similar emergencies. The secretary gathered the drift and immediately telephoned the Yard, giving orders for the line connected with Whitehall 12121-8 to be traced immediately.

  Craigie stopped tapping at last.

  ‘Aren’t you getting a little melodramatic?’

  ‘Possibly,’ snapped the other. ‘Falling –’

  Craigie’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Falling is perhaps the worst angle of this affair that we’ve touched. But calling me like this is just nonsensical vanity. As bad as Criff’s.’

  ‘You think so? You’d be wiser to call it a serious warning. Understand that we’re not going to brook interference. We’ll act as we have already started, and there won’t be a member of your precious Department left unless you withdraw them.’

  Craigie was smiling to himself.

  ‘Let me see – I’ve fifty odd agents in England, and several hundred abroad. This is going to be serious, I can see. You plan a massacre? But just a moment. Why kill Sigmund Prell?’

  He knew that he had managed to get a thrust past the speaker, for the voice had grown rasping. But it was an English voice. It had a peculiar quality of resonance, not entirely due to the telephone, which made Craigie sure he would be able to recognise it again. And by now the Yard would have been sure to have traced the call.

  ‘We killed Prell because he was likely to get in our way; as we will not hesitate to do to others under the same circumstances. Craigie, I am warning you –’

  Craigie’s laugh sounded genuinely amused.

  ‘Benevolence, too, it’s almost too much. But since warnings are in the air, I’ll give you one. You know Criff talked quite a lot before he was unfortunate enough to be shot?’

  Again there was a pause, and this time the man at the other end sounded more cautious, as though he was deliberately holding back his temper.

  ‘So – he did?’

  ‘About Prell and other things,’ said Craigie. ‘A great number of other things. Can I make a counter offer?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If you’ll come and see me, and talk to me, I’ll make it worth your while,’ said Craigie. ‘I’ll guarantee no police action, for instance, against you.’

  For some reason or other, the suggestion seemed to worsen his caller’s temper. Craigie heard a lurid stream of oaths, then the receiver was banged down. The line had hardly gone dead before there was another ring. Craigie grabbed the receiver.

  ‘Miller here. Craigie, that caller –’

  ‘Where was it from?’

  Miller spoke quickly.

  ‘From a call box, Craigie. From the nearest call box to Lane House, Camberley. How does that sound?’

  ‘Camberley!’ exclaimed Gordo
n Craigie, and his mind was immediately chasing round on this new angle. The house of Mr Matthew Horn, his brother-in-law Joshua and his nephew Freddie, the house where Doriennet had been murdered, was back in the centre of the stage again.

  Chapter 10

  Lois Meets A Lady

  In common with the other members of the Department Lois Dacre had known that Lady Mondell played a part in this affair. She had also known that her ladyship was suspected of minor espionage, and that Z agents were watching her. Lois knew for instance that young Falling had been detailed to win milady’s confidence.

  Just prior to seeing Miller outside Devennet Court, Lois had phoned Craigie, telling him something of what had happened. Her appearance there had been solely because she had learned earlier in the morning that Kerr was going to see Criff. Craigie had told her of Falling’s death, and with an intuition which helped her where it might have failed a man, Lois had guessed at the real state of affairs between Falling and the ex-actress.

  When she had seen Lady Mondell at Devennet Court she had not hesitated to follow her.

  For two hours after leaving Miller, she had followed Lady Mondell, and she grew more and more puzzled as the minutes flew.

  The other woman seemed to be wandering aimlessly about London. She visited a milliner’s, and spent half-an-hour there. She went into a large store, apparently with no real objective, for she walked through three or four floors, and then out again; and all the time Lois had a feeling that she was seeing a woman who was half-insane.

  But why?

  Lady Mondell could hardly have learned of the Falling murder, or so Lois believed. And, as Craigie had told her, the woman had been to Croydon Airport that morning, had a seat booked on the Paris plane, but for some reason she had not started the journey.

  Again, why?

  Lois was hoping that she would find out, and wishing that the other woman would settle down. London pavements were not the best places for walking. Only once did Rene take a cab, and that seemed simply to rest for five minutes.

  Unless, of course, she was trying to make sure whether or not she was followed.

  But there was something in the strained expression of the woman’s face that told Lois Dacre that her motive was not caution or cunning. Lady Mondell was wandering aimlessly because she felt aimless, because something was worrying, scaring or frightening her.

  At three o’clock, to Lois Dacre’s relief, Rene took another cab and ten mintes afterwards she alighted outside the main entrance of Devennet Court.

  There were plentiful signs of the fire of the morning. Burned fragments of furniture lay about the pavement and there were deep pools of water in the street.

  That part of the building where Rene Mondell had her flat had not been affected. Lois saw her walk towards the lift; she hesitated and then stepped towards one of several telephone kiosks built inside the hall of the court.

  She found Craigie’s lines engaged, and left a message with Sir William Fellowes at the Yard to the effect that she was at Lady Mondell’s flat. Then she walked to the lift, shot upwards and, ten minutes after Lady Mondell’s arrival, rang the bell.

  Rene herself opened the door.

  Lois smiled: she had the kind of smile that could make others take to her at once, and momentarily it seemed to satisfy Rene Mondell.

  ‘I think you had better see me,’ said Lois gently.

  She had not realised before the extent of the intense misery of the other woman’s expression. Few people would have called Rene beautiful just then. Her eyes were shadowed and her lips tightly drawn; she looked ten years more than her age.

  ‘Why?’ Even her voice was spiritless.

  ‘Well – it’s difficult to say,’ said Lois. ‘If you will spare me perhaps ten minutes –’

  ‘No, please! There’s nothing at all I want to buy, and – my maid has left me suddenly, I –’ The woman seemed hysterical.

  Lois stepped inside and closed the door behind her. All the time she was warning herself that it might be a trap, that someone else might be in the flat. But she was backing a belief that Rene was alone and that the appearance of misery was genuine.

  ‘Look here,’ began Lady Mondell, but Lois Dacre gripped her firmly by the arm and urged her through the hall to the sitting-room. Rene went as though she had not the strength to resist, either mentally or physically.

  She sat down, heavily. Lois drew a chair up, and was astonished at the relief to her legs. Then she forgot it, and tried a broadside attack, the approach she had learned from Bob Kerr.

  ‘I’ve been following you about, Lady Mondell, since you were at the fire this morning. Does that mean anything?’

  The words seemed to pierce the coma from which the other woman was suffering and Rene Mondell leaned forward sharply.

  ‘You’ve been following me? But why –’

  ‘Because you were known to be working with Criff,’ said Lois. ‘I’m working for someone else who is interested.’

  ‘You are? But Craigie doesn’t use women –’

  ‘Who said it was Craigie?’ asked Lois gently, but no longer doubtful about this woman’s importance; she knew Craigie.

  Lois felt that things were working out very well.

  She was by no means sure of the outcome of the interview, and there was a possibility that Rene would afterwards talk of her call to others and describe the visitor. It was just as well for the start, at all events, that Rene did not believe she was a Department Z agent. That ‘Craigie doesn’t use women’ had served an excellent purpose in two ways.

  Lois smiled.

  ‘England isn’t the only country interested in Adam Criff. But before we go into that –’

  ‘I don’t know what you want,’ said Rene with a sudden fierce intentness, ‘but if you’re after Criff, he’s dead. Thank God! He’s made my life a misery and –’

  Lois sat back, and waited. She had judged correctly. The woman in front of her was desperately anxious to talk, to rid her mind of a burden: and Lois was a Godsend to her.

  The story was vague, but it included talk of work abroad for Criff: of the Paris affair, held so long over her head; of the fact that she had started to feel for a man whom she did not name; and that she had learned that Criff had planned to send her to Paris that morning while the unnamed man was being killed.

  ‘How did you learn that?’ asked Lois gently. As she had hoped, Rene was hardly conscious of the interruption, although it changed the trend of her thoughts a little.

  ‘It was Shirin. You don’t know him, but he phoned me. I – I think Shirin disliked Criff, and Criff was annoyed with him last night. Criff was planning some kind of trick with – with Jim. I came back from the airport at once, and the fire had started. Jim’s not at home. I’ve phoned him time and time again, and he’s not there. Criff – Criff’s dead. But where is Jim?’

  Lois Dacre stood up slowly, putting her hand on the other woman’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Mondell. I can give you some information, but it isn’t – pleasant.’

  Those dulled eyes widened. A hand clutched at Lois’s wrist.

  ‘Jim’s not –’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lois said.

  She hated giving the other woman the news, but someone had to, and perhaps she could do it less brutally than others. Moreover there was a chance that Rene Mondell would be useful to the Department, and Craigie needed everything and everyone now who might help him.

  Rene sat very still, and then she burst out:

  ‘If Criff wasn’t dead I’d – I’d kill him! The murderer! He must have learned that Jim and me were –’

  ‘He did,’ Lois said.

  She made up her mind quickly that she could safely say that she was working for Craigie. She believed that Rene Mondell was interested in nothing apart from the death of Falling, and the fact that Criff, and those for whom Criff had worked, had killed him.

  ‘Listen, Lady Mondell. I am working for Craigie. I know just what happened. Mr Falling wa
s told, this morning, to come here and see you. You were supposed to be hurt. He suspected a trick, and told – Bob Kerr. You know Kerr?’

  ‘Yes.’ Those eyes were almost feverish.

  ‘Well, Falling was kidnapped when he called here. Kerr and two others followed him, but Criff discovered that, and Falling was killed. The man who shot him was killed too – Kerr got him.’

  Rene’s eyes were incredibly hard.

  ‘The man may have shot him. Criff and – and others really killed him.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was as hard as her expression.

  ‘If you had an opportunity of working against them, would you take it?’

  Rene Mondell pushed her chair back and stood up. Her eyes were much brighter, and her hands were clenched, but her voice was very steady.

  ‘I’d do anything. Anything, to – to avenge Jim.’

  ‘I see,’ said Lois Dacre quietly. ‘Then will you please say nothing to anyone of my visit? Just wait until you hear from me. You’ve been working for Criff against Craigie. There may be a chance for working for Craigie against those who were behind Criff. I can’t promise, but –’

  The other woman nodded.

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I’ll be quiet. But it must happen quickly, I can’t sit back doing nothing. I –’

  She broke off. There was a sharp ring at the front door bell, and both of them stared towards the hall. Rene drew a sharp breath, and then relaxed.

  ‘I wonder who –’

  ‘May I slip into the bedroom?’ asked Lois quickly. ‘I’ll leave the door open, and if it’s anyone unpleasant I’ll be at hand. It will be as well if I’m not seen.’

  Lady Mondell nodded.

  ‘All right. Quickly.’

  She seemed to be much stronger now that there was talk of working for Craigie, and Lois felt satisfied. Craigie would at least give the other woman something to do, even if it was unimportant. And they might find a way in which she could be very useful indeed.

  The caller, of course, might be anyone. A tradesman, a friend –

  Lois left the bedroom door open two inches. She waited by the opening long enough to glimpse the tall, stout man who entered the room. It was no one she had seen before, and she felt a little disappointed. She heard his voice, deep, cultured, persuasive. ‘I promise you, Lady Mondell, I shall not waste your time,’ he was saying, as Rene closed the front door. Without being invited the big man sat in an easy chair. He looked about him, as though commenting mentally on the luxury of the apartment.