Midnight Flit

by Elin Gregory

  "That bad?"

  "Who knows. I spent the day retrieving Jan's belongings in some of the poorer parts of the town, and feelings against the government are heated."

  "With good reason." Briers leaned on his cue, while Falk eyed the table looking for advantages. "Do you ever think about the past and wonder if there was a point where a word, a nudge, a bullet in the right brain, might have stopped a disaster. Like Princip."

  "Shoot Princip? You've been reading HG Wells. No, if you had shot Princip there would have been another man on another corner and the War to End All Wars would still have happened." Falk flubbed his shot and sighed. "It is a bleak thought. I prefer to dwell on our current endeavours. That what we do, a word, a nudge, a bullet, is preventing horrors that we can't imagine. All we can do is try, and pray that we are influencing the right events."

  "With the benefit of hindsight, it's easy to see where the rot sets in. Oh dammit F-Jan, now I'm depressed too."

  "Ah, is your 'young lady' unhappy? I hope her injuries are not too inconvenient."

  Briers heard the flippant tone but Falk's eyes showed genuine concern. "She's very uncomfortable and, I think, embarrassed that she isn't a rock solid, fifteen stone, rugby forward type who can shrug off a punch like it was a gnat bite."

  "Fifteen stone rugby forwards can be a lot of fun under the right circumstances," Falk said, "but they don't wear Schiaparelli nearly as well. Give her my regards, won't you?"

  #

  "Jan Favre? Really?" Miles looked one hundred times brighter and happier than when Briers had left him, and from the tender glances he and Emily kept exchanging Briers assumed that some mother/son bonding had gone on. If he'd had to put money on it, he'd have guessed that cuddling was involved. Both were vastly amused that Falk had reinvented himself yet again - and under the name of 'John Smith', no less.

  "I assume his appearance isn't as plain as John Smith might imply?" Emily asked.

  "Oh Lor', no." Briers gave them the potted version of Falk's legend. "Jan Favre looks like he could buy the hotel and everyone in it. Midnight blue evening suit, sapphire and diamond studs and cuff-links - but in the very best possible taste, if you know what I mean. Cartier, I should say."

  "We will be flatteringly impressed," Miles assured him - and Briers, who could take a hint as well as any man, immediately turned his attention to his companions. Emily looked a vision in slate blue shot silk and Miles - well, his burgundy silk set off his fair colouring to perfection and, yet again, Briers wanted to lick him. Briers said all the right things in the right order as they trooped down to dinner, which made up for Smethwick's loud hurrumph when they arrived. Diana rolled her eyes at him behind his back, then led the way to their small table. Tonight, it appeared they would dine en famille.

  "I made contact with our local man," Smethwick said to Briers, once they were seated and soup had been served. "I've arranged an escort to the station."

  "That's good of him," Briers said. "Driver and... ?"

  "You don't need to know that," Smethwick said. "Just rest assured that security measures are in place."

  So that was them told! Miles's head tilted and he shot a glance at Diana, who gave a tiny shrug and went back to her soup.

  Emily was not one to allow them to eat in silence, so passed a comment to Miles about the comparative qualities of the soup as opposed to the brine they had been served on the train - and they all, with the exception of Smethwick, pitched into a 'worst meal I've ever eaten' contest.

  "Oh, look," Emily said, interrupting Briers's favourite tale about an elderly and undercooked goat. They all watched as Falk adjusted his monocle, then followed a waiter towards a table rather better than theirs.

  "Foreign," Smethwick said, and turned back to his soup. Falk must have heard because he paused and caught Briers's eye, then bowed low to Emily. She beamed.

  "Why, Mr Favre," she said. "So nice to see you again. I don't know if you recall but we met in Zurich?"

  "No, Mother, I believe it was Lucerne," Miles put in. "We went to Zurich the following day. Good to see you again, Mr Favre. And how is Mrs Favre?"

  "She will be desolate to have missed renewing our acquaintance," Falk said. "Now, if you will excuse me... "

  He went on his way, and Briers grinned at Emily because for one's story to be backed up like that was priced far above rubies in the intelligence field.

  "Such a pleasant man," Miles said. "Something in banking, wasn't he Brian?"

  "Something like that." Briers ignored Smethwick's mutter about 'too smooth by half' and turned towards the door again as a large and boisterous party entered. Ruby was easy to spot due to her hair, and Nik was half a head taller than anyone else. The serving staff swung into action, and soon they were all seated.

  "Good grief," Diana said and leaned towards Emily, "I believe that's Miss Josephine Baker!"

  Miles and his mother both whipped round to look. "Has she got her cheetah with her?" Emily demanded. "Please tell me she's got her cheetah with her?"

  "Sorry to disappoint you," Briers said. "Probably just as well too. They are bringing out the fish course."

  Miles snorted and mimed a huge furry paw darting up over the edge of the table to pat along the plates. "Except cheetahs are probably big enough to actually see what's on the table, aren't they, Brian?"

  "Probably. One of the drawbacks, I've always thought, of having big dogs." Brian waved his fork. "It must be hard enough for little ones being able to smell our suppers, but for big ones actually able to see, the temptation must be enormous."

  "I had a spaniel once," Diana said. "I'll swear it could levitate. It stole the joint off the top shelf of the pantry."

  Smethwick muttered something about dogs not being allowed in pantries in properly-ordered households, but by then Ma had picked up the conversational ball and was telling a tale about the gardener's dog in the embassy in Athens. Briers had already heard it, so took the opportunity to check his surroundings for acquaintances while they finished their fish and pitched into very well-dressed lamb.

  The ffoulkes-Collinson woman was present with both of her lapdogs. She was slipping scraps to the one under the table, but the other caught Briers's eye and gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement. Hayman looked apprehensive, as well he might.

  Ruby Aston wasn't holding court tonight, having vacated her throne for a much brighter star, but she was in the thick of conversation with Nik at her side, and Janice and Lacroix were further down the table chatting to one of Miss Baker's entourage. Jonah Rudd was nowhere to be seen.

  Briers had been cautiously aware of Falk's every move since he had settled at his table, so didn't turn his head when Falk summoned a waiter and made a request. The waiter expressed surprise, then bowed and crossed the room to pause by Lacroix, who stared at him, apparently shocked.

  "What's Mr Favre up to?" Miles whispered.

  "Search me." Briers smiled, though, because he was glad that he wasn't the only person keeping their eyes open.

  A moment later the Baker table's chatter took on more purpose. Lacroix got to his feet to a little patter of applause and crossed to the grand piano in the corner. The pianist gave up his seat and fled with an alacrity that suggested a weak bladder. Then Lacroix started to play.

  "Oh I say." Diana raised her eyebrows. "I wasn't expecting Brahms."

  "Very nicely played, too," Emily murmured and turned her head to look at Ruby, who beamed back at them all and gave them a discreet thumbs-up.

  The same waiter delivered a glass of champagne on a silver platter placed it where Lacroix could reach it and whispered a request. Lacroix raised his glass in Falk's direction and switched to Brahms with a ragtime rhythm.

  Briers nodded and nudged Miles, "Falk is smitten," he said. "I think he might even be wooing."

  "Falk?" Miles face lit up. "Am I allowed to tease him?"

  "I wouldn't advise it," Briers said, "not unless you fancy being treated like Rome treated Carthage."

  "I'll leave it t
hen. Oh look, I think Miss Baker is impressed."

  Lacroix played for another fifteen minutes, during which time Briers's dessert was served and consumed, then returned to his seat. There was a lot of general applause, but Lacroix seemed particularly pleased with whatever Miss Baker said to him as he passed her chair.

  "How lovely," Emily said. "That young man's talents would be wasted playing for rehearsals in theatres. Honestly, M-Millie, we need to find him a better position."

  "Ma, I suspect he might prefer a position he'd won for himself on his own merits."

  "Hmm, of course. I hadn't thought of that."

  Briers sat back in his seat to let their waiter clear the table and allowed himself the indulgence of resting his arm along the back of Miles's chair. It was perfectly in character for Brian Carstairs, very much in love with his wife, to curl his hand around her upper arm and stroke the smooth silk over even smoother skin. Even if Smethwick was frowning. Especially if Smethwick was frowning, because he and Miles were professionals, for pity's sake, and this was an important part of their pretence. Not for the first time, Briers pondered that twenty years in intelligence didn't actually mean the man had any. He was a bodyguard, excellent at his job no doubt and Briers was grateful to him for protecting Miles's parents, but he was not at all suited to the requirements - that willingness to do whatever it took - of work in the field. With that in mind, Briers asked the waiter to make some enquiries, and was pleased when the man hurried back with good news.

  "The night is fine sir, no rain, but overcast and a little cold. The cars will be ready to depart for the station in half an hour."

  "Thank you." Briers patted Miles shoulder then, Emily's hand. "Time for one last drink, I think, just to see us on our way."

  "It's a bit late for coffee, isn't it?" Emily paused for thought then said. "Brandy, I think. It will help me to sleep on the train."

  "Likewise, please," Miles said and Diana followed suit. Smethwick and Briers opted for whisky and soda.

  It was entertaining to see how smoothly the waiting staff hurried their customers through the departure process. Drinks were brought, reminders were issued that coats and hand-luggage were waiting in the hotel lobby.

  Smethwick groused about the tip Briers left for the waiter, but then he would.

  As they left the dining room, Emily paused to say goodbye to Mrs Ffoulkes-Collins, and returned to them, frowning.

  "She's up to something," she said. "But she promised, again, to keep her mouth shut, so I'm planning to enjoy our trip and stop worrying about her."

  "Grand idea, Ma," Miles said. "Just think, this time tomorrow we'll be almost home."

  The foyer was chaos, as this sort of event always was, but Pritchard was waiting with Sandor and all their essentials.

  "Good evening," Pritchard said and held Emily's coat for her to put on. Sandor hurried to perform the same courtesy for Miles and Diana. The Siward party was obviously getting exemplary service. Many of the other guests were less fortunate.

  "Did they feed you well again, Pritchard?" Miles asked.

  "Oh bless you, Miss, they took very good care of us. I had quite a jolly, and very tasty, meal with the grand duchess's staff once I recognised her driver. He used to work for the Cavendishes."

  "Oh, can we get on, please?" Smethwick demanded. "Give me my coat. Carstairs, get a move on."

  Pritchard's expression did not budge an inch from its usual polite affability, but Briers caught his eye and winked. Pritchard offered Briers his hat, neatly brushed.

  "Nice job, Pritchard," Briers said. "Everything ready?"

  "Why yes sir. Courtesy of Mr Sandor, here, our car is waiting."

  Leaving the hotel foyer in a confusion of guests, servants and luggage, Pritchard gathered them up and swept them out into the chilly street. He raised his hand and a car pulled out from the dozen waiting at the kerb. It didn't escape Briers's notice that Sandor was careful to check both their surroundings and the driver.

  "Your trunks are already at the station. Gergo will see you right to the gates, I have made arrangements." Sandor gave them just the right level of bow as he loaded their hand luggage into the boot.

  "Take care, Sandor," Miles said. "Messages through the usual channels."

  "Thank you, Miss. I wish you all good health and a safe journey."

  "Contact?" Diana murmured to Miles as she settled into the seat. Miles hesitated before replying, checking whether there was a chance they could be overheard by the driver, which gave Smethwick a chance to jump in big boots first.

  "No." he said. "I spoke to the contact myself. The official contact. I hope you haven't been indiscreet, Siward."

  Briers, perched on the fold-down seat, exchanged telling glances with Miles then said, "And who was that?"

  "You don't need to know that."

  "We do," Miles said. "I have been corresponding with Sandor for two years. He has given me the correct code both verbally and in writing."

  Which was news to Briers, but a great comfort for all that.

  "You're mistaken." Smethwick sniffed. "Office staff, even well-connected office staff, in the field is always a bad idea."

  Briers drew breath to reply but Miles nudged his ankle so he rolled his eyes and gave it up as a bad job. Instead he took note of the attention Miles and Diana were paying to their surroundings and the paleness of Emily's knuckles as she gripped her hands together in her lap.

  "This business on the way to the aerodrome?" he asked. "What happened, Diana? Millie's account was an exercise in brevity, and Lady Siward hasn't been much more forthcoming."

  "It wasn't pleasant." Diana didn't bother to look in his direction, which was all right by Briers. "Three men in a car and a chap on a motorbike, all well-armed, one with a Degtyaryov. We'll have to recarpet the Daimler, no chance of getting the glass out of it. The chauffer took two rounds, one broke his arm the other nicked his chest, and we were lucky that was the only casualty. He'll be back to work when the break heals." Again without looking she reached to lay her hand over Emily's. "Millie added a new definition to back seat driving while I returned fire."

  "And I lay on the floor like a dropped hanky," Emily said with a sigh. "But it's probably just as well I didn't have a gun. I do know how to fire a revolver but my hands tend to shake. It's most annoying. And these new automatics are so very ugly."

  Diana and Miles both grinned and Briers chuckled. "We'll give you some lessons when we get home," he promised. "You wouldn't think it, but Millie's a dead shot now. A real Annie Oakley."

  "Oh my goodness. I saw her in Paris in '89. A lovely child, but such a huge hat." Emily took a deep breath and turned her hand to grip Diana's. "And there's the station. We'll soon be on our way."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Miles

  Sunday 13th September, 1931

  Miles hung on to Briers's arm as their party proceeded along the busy platform. Pritchard led the way with a porter and the trolley loaded with their hand luggage, followed by Smethwick and Diana bracketing Ma, while Briers and Miles followed as hot on their heels as they could. Sacks of mail were being loaded, food and drink in boxes and crates were being wheeled along to the dining car, and there were suitcases and bags being passed from hand to hand as the porters and station officials hurried the passengers along. Gentlemen in business suits, families carrying sleepy children, and the ladies and gents in their finery, having come from their hotels to embark on the next stage of their journeys, called and jostled in their excitement. Ruby Aston clung to Nik's arm and shouted to them as he helped her into their carriage. Ari gave them a grave-faced wave as he passed Janice a small crocodile-leather case.

  "See you in Paris," Janice called. Miles waved back. Pritchard paused to allow Miss Baker and some of her staff to pass in front of him and tipped his bowler hat. She shot him a brilliant smile and bounded up into the carriage, then Pritchard set off again. It was all very exciting - and potentially deadly, because there could be some of the men who had shot at the
m in Belgrade hiding in the crowds. It was unlikely they would be attacked here, but couldn't be completely ruled out.

  "Millie, love," Briers murmured. "Your mother is sandwiched between Pritchard, Smethwick and Diana and we are covering her back. There's no need to look quite so terrified."

  "Terrified?" Miles tried very hard not to scowl at him. "It's not terror, thank you very much, but justifiable caution. Also, doesn't it occur to you that I'm equally anxious that you shouldn't get shot?"

  "Really?" Briers gave him a pleased looking grin. "How very gratifying. Let's each do our best not to cause the other any more concern, eh?"

  Miles sighed. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

  "Never," Briers agreed. "Ah, here's our coach!"

  They clambered aboard and fought their way through passengers and porters until they reached their allocated sleeping compartments. At once they realised the snag. Two compartments for five people weren't a problem as long as they had been three women and two men, or three men and two women, but Miles made things a little more complicated. Millie could share a room with Ma and Diana; Miles couldn't. Likewise, eyebrows might be raised if Millie shared with Briers and Smethwick, but it wasn't safe for Miles to resume his usual attire when there were so many people who might recognise him.

  "Well," Diana said, as she set down her handbag, "I don't mind if you don't. How about it Mrs S? Do you mind sharing a room with - with Millie?"

  Ma's 'Not at all' clashed with Smethwick's 'Don't be ridiculous'. They glared at each other and Ma drew breath to reply. but was distracted by the guard's whistle and the lurch as the train started its long journey. She took a seat on the compartment's sofa and set her dressing-case by her feet.

  "I am quite happy to share the room with Diana and Millie," she said. "We are all grown-ups, after all."

  "But it's unnecessary." Smethwick glared at Miles and gestured at his attire. "Even dressed like that it's not appropriate. Lady Siward must share with Diana. I will take a chair in the observation car and keep watch. Mr and Mrs Carstairs may have the other sleeping berth to themselves."