by Elin Gregory
Briers had expected Jonah Rudd to be one of their number, but Ruby had sent him about his business and cut him dead whenever he approached her.
"I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't so oily," Briers admitted to Miles as they stood on the tarmac waiting for the aeroplane that Ruby had, astonishingly, managed to commission.
Miles, who was exhibiting all the more self-reliant traits of Millie, set his jaw and said, "You wouldn't if you'd heard what he said to me as we were getting off the charabanc. I nearly crowned him - but I put my heel on his instep instead."
"Mmm," Briers grabbed him and gave him a squeeze and knocked his hat askew, "I find that incredibly arousing."
"Brian! You are awful!" Miles yelped, fending him off, but Briers thought he looked pleased.
The plane was the best that could be obtained in such a short time, and seemed to be a dual-purpose affair used for transporting lightweight freight as well as a few passengers. Ruby and Janice, Emily and Diana sat in four of the available forward-facing seats, and Miles insisted that Pritchard and Harry take the others. Falk, Briers and Miles set up a poker-school in what would normally have been the baggage compartment, and were comfortable enough sitting on the small amount of luggage they had been able to bring. It wasn't particularly well lit in there, the sound of the engines was loud and they had been provided with plenty of blankets against the cold. Miles seemed a little on edge and nestled into Briers's side. If Falk hadn't been there Briers could think of several things they might do to pass the time ... but maybe he might fall asleep and then ...
"Ante up," Miles said, tossing a penny into the pot, and Briers kicked himself for letting his attention wander when Falk had been dealing.
"I deserve to lose," he thought, and wasn't surprised when he did.
The evening extended into night. As flights went Briers supposed it was a quick one, but they still had two stops to refuel and once for a few hours to allow the pilots some rest and to get a meal. The food at the guest house wasn't good, but Briers was hungry enough to eat warmed up frikadellen and at least the beds were aired. Without Smethwick sticking his oar in there had been no nonsense about who would share with whom. Briers lay down back-to-back with Pritchard, and spared a moment to wonder how Miles was doing in the other room with the ladies before he closed his eyes.
At first light they took off again and, as the sun rose, the choppy grey waters of the Channel appeared under their wings.
"Home," Briers said to Miles, who was dozing against his shoulder. "We'll be in London in time for elevenses."
"And our own bed tonight," Miles whispered and settled his head more firmly against Briers's jacket. "Wake me up when we're about to land."
It was one of the nicer September mornings. Warm sunshine and a fresh breeze didn't interfere with their landing at the aerodrome at Croydon. The plane taxied across to the private hangers and there they disembarked, almost all looking a bit crumpled and the worse for wear. Harry alone looked well-groomed, but then Briers knew what it was like to have one good suit and no idea when one would be able to get it sponged and pressed. There were ways and means. Two cars were waiting, one a Rolls-Royce, huge and gleaming, the other a nondescript older model of Daimler, but Briers bet the Daimler's engine was the more powerful of the two. The drivers matched their vehicles, but both went to unload the baggage with equal speed while their passengers dealt with the sleepy-looking officials.
"I am going to have the longest bath," Ruby said, "a very dry Martini and the best lobster money can buy. Just as soon as I reach the... where are we staying, darling?"
Janice smiled at her and opened her notebook. "We were supposed to be booking into the Ritz, but not until next week. I don't think we'll be able to get a suite before then."
"It's just the two of us now. We don't need a suite." Ruby took Janice's hand. "Can I offer anyone a lift? I don't think you'll all fit in that old Daimler."
"How about it, Harry?" Falk asked.
"If you can just drop me at the first Tube station," Harry suggested, "I can find my own way from there."
Falk made an amused sound. "Let's ride in style as far as the Ritz anyway. Then I'll see you home and look for lodgings for myself." He paused and spoke very quietly. "You don't have to be alone unless you want to be."
"Please do come, Harry," Ruby said. "And you must let us have your address. And you," she gestured to Briers and the Siwards. "Come to supper. If we're all in the same city it would be a pity to lose track."
"Wilton Crescent," Emily said. "Number 22. I think we'll stay a few weeks, won't we, Diana?"
"I'd appreciate a chance to heal up before we go back to Bucharest," Diana said. "And do some shopping for Christmas while I have the chance."
"Oh yes, that's a date then. And you, Mr and Mrs Carstairs?"
"I don't know how long I'll be here, to be honest," Briers replied.
"We'll be in touch," Miles smiled. "I should be back in work - oh good grief, it's Monday! I should have been at my desk half an hour ago."
"And wouldn't that frock cause a stir?" Briers chuckled. "I think customs is done with our baggage so perhaps... "
"Yes, goodbye then, Miss Aston, Miss Oldbury." Emily exchanged hugs and air-kisses with them and so did Briers, while Miles gave Harry a gentle hug and shook hands with Falk. Falk said something Briers couldn't catch that brought blood flooding to Miles's cheeks, and Miles replied. Briers didn't hear that either, but Falk drew back and shot Briers a glance made up of guilt and amusement in equal measures.
"I'll be in touch as well," Falk said to Briers a moment later. "If you or your boy need to find me, use the drop box at the Bermondsey Baths. Conrad Bauer on the envelope and the stamp corner creased."
"I remember," Briers said.
"So do I." Falk leered. "Ah, it was good while it lasted. Now you are boringly monogamous and hardly worth my effort. Good luck."
They watched the glossy Rolls-Royce purr away across the grass.
"Sir." Briers turned to see the other driver. His brown was suit rumpled with a suggestive bulge in his left armpit, and he was talking to Miles. "Ayres, sir, on secondment from the resources section." He gave them a friendly nod. "I've orders to take you straight to Broadway House, sir, but Mr Throckmorton thought Mr Siward might appreciate a change of clothing. I've left a case in the hangar."
"That's very decent of you," Miles said. "Ma, Diana, I'll be five minutes. Briers, can you come and help?"
"Sure, I'll check that your seams are straight," Briers said and followed Miles into the hangar. Four minutes later, Briers was filling the case with Millie's pretty things and Miles Siward, cipher clerk and linguistics expert, was back, his high-buttoned collar, pinstriped suit, sober tie and shiny black shoes the picture of respectability. Miles ran a brilliantined comb through his hair, sweeping the soft golden wings back from his cheeks. He had already removed the last traces of subtle makeup from his face, though his eyelashes would be darker than usual until he could have a proper wash.
Miles gave a deep sigh. "How do I look?"
"Like Miles Siward," Briers said. "My Miles, sensible and clever and brave and - "
"I love you so much." The words burst from Miles lips and next moment he was swarming up Briers like a monkey climbs a tree. Briers took his weight, hands under his delectable little arse, and kissed him back.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Miles gasped between kisses. "I couldn't wait until we get home. Oh, but later - "
"Later," Briers agreed. "The sooner we get your mother to Naylor the better."
"Then we can get her settled at home and then - oh then Briers... " Miles's smile was blinding. "I want to see if I can make you scream too."
"I'm far too manly to scream," Briers protested as he let Miles down to the ground. "But you are more than welcome to try."
They fastened Millie's suitcase, and Briers picked it up. Miles fiddled with his Browning as they left the hangar, trying to decide where best to store it.
"It makes my
pockets bag so badly," he explained. "And despite the safety features one doesn't quite like to trust it in one's waistband."
Briers looked down at the sleek weapon, looking very large in Miles's small hands. "You need a proper shoulder holster, and an introduction to my tailor," Briers said.
Miles's hands stilled and the colour drained from his face.
"Drop it!" Ayres' voice had no trace of affability. He had a tight grip on Emily's arm and was holding a gun to her head. Briers and Miles both raised their hands. Diana stood a few paces away, white-faced, her left hand supporting her right, and Pritchard stood by the car, glaring daggers at Ayres.
"Allerdale, hands high, or I'll shoot the old lady." Ayres glared at them both. "Siward, I said 'drop it'!"
"I can't. I can't drop it," Miles babbled, holding the gun away from his body as though it might explode. "The safety is unreliable. Last time I - "
"Then pop out the magazine, you bloody little queer. Allerdale, left hand, take your gun out of the holster and let it fall. I assume yours is better maintained."
Briers shrugged and complied. "Desk workers," he said. "Don't know where we'd be without them. So, what's the plan then?"
Ayres snorted and gestured with his own gun barrel. "I'm taking the car, the old man is going to drive, and the old lady will be in the back with me. If he co-operates, and she tells me what I need to hear, I may let him go later."
"And what about us?" Briers asked, more to give Miles time than out of any real interest. The magazine freed and fell to the wet grass and Ayres relaxed, gesturing for them to move towards Diana.
"The lady won't need her maid where she's going," Ayres said. "The three of you can go into the hangar and stay there until we've gone."
"And where will we be able to find our people?"
Ayres scowled. "Stop asking questions and get in the hangar."
"Oh please," Emily said, her tone filled with the utter exasperation of a lady who had endured an uncomfortable journey and just wanted to put her feet up in her own home with a decent cup of tea.
"Absolutely, ma'am," Diana said. She shot Ayres left-handed, very neatly, in the kneecap, with the gun she'd had hidden in her sling. Ayres screamed and began to go down. Pritchard swiped Ayres's gun-barrel, angling it towards the runway but Ayres gave a shriek of fury and swung the gun back again directly towards Emily. Miles's bullet hit Ayres squarely in the knot of his tie. Ayres fell and choked and went still.
"And serve you right," Pritchard said. "Twll tin."
"Pritchard!"
"My apologies, Lady Siward, that was uncalled for. Nice shooting, Mr Siward."
"One up the spout," Miles said, his voice just a little strangled. "These Browning 1922s really are the cat's pyjamas!"
#
They may have been supposed to go directly to Broadway House, but first they had to deal with the aerodrome authorities - who were appalled at such carnage on their premises - and with the police, who were equally startled, and finally with the driver and co-driver who had actually been sent to pick them up by Naylor.
"Ayres was a mechanic, sir," they said to Briers. "Not long in the motor pool. He must have overheard something and decided he could turn it into money."
Miles, still white-faced although the tension around his mouth suggested fury rather than fright, stood to one side with Emily and Diana and didn't even speak up when Naylor's messenger boys congratulated Briers on his accurate shooting. When Briers confessed that Diana and Miles had been the sharpshooters he just accepted the apologies with a nod. There would be, Briers predicted, hell to pay later.
"Right," the more senior of the drivers said. "My friend here will stay to deal with this situation, but I think we've kept Sir James waiting long enough. If you would like to get in the car, sirs, my Lady?"
"It's barely nine o'clock," Miles said, his arm tight around his mother, "and Sir James is rarely in before ten. I think we can afford to make a few necessary calls first."
First they deposited Diana in Harley Street to get her broken arm checked, then detoured along Castle Lane to drop Pritchard off at Miles's flat.
"If you don't mind, sir," he said. "I'll catch a few hours' sleep before preparing for dinner."
"Take all the time you want, Pritchard," Miles said. "In fact take the night off. We can fend for ourselves and," he dropped his voice a little, "I'm sure Ron will appreciate having you home."
Pritchard smiled. "That he will sir, thank you." He nodded to Briers and Emily then began to plod up the stairs into the building.
"Pritchard deserves a bonus," Miles said as the car pulled away, "and a medal, and probably a month off. I wonder if he and Ron would like a trip to Frinton; the weather is very nice for September."
"Ask him tomorrow," Briers murmured.
Broadway House was a five minute walk from Miles's flat, but more like fifteen by car on a busy Monday morning when the dust-carts were doing their rounds. The driver dropped them at the door with an offer to wait but Emily said they had no idea how long they would be and that they would take a cab.
This was Briers's first visit to SIS HQ since, a little under three years previously, he had walked in and been introduced to a diminutive cipher clerk who had seemed like a liability but was now the best and most reliable thing in his rather choppy life. Briers felt like a carrier pigeon navigating stormy skies on its way back to the safety of its loft - and grinned as he wondered what Miles would say when he repeated the analogy.
They entered through the main door, under the sign advertising fire extinguishers that Briers though was a nice conceit, and traipsed across the tiled floor to the desk.
"Bit late, aren't you Siward?" The man on the desk looked them all over, then stood up to greet Emily. "Good morning, madame. How may we help you?"
"Lady Siward, Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale. We are here to see... Miles?"
"Mr Naylor," Miles said, his voice meek. "He is expecting us."
"Sir James Lorimer is expecting you," the desk clerk said with a quelling look at Miles. "I will call up and see when he will be available. You may wait over there."
But they barely had time to look for the chairs before they were called back and sent upstairs.
"It's up to the second floor and - "
"I know the way, thank you," Miles said and offered his mother his arm.
Naylor met them in the corridor, looking like an affable but unimportant clerk rather than a man with his finger on the throbbing pulse of the intelligence community. "Good grief, Siward," he said. "What time do you call this? I was expecting you last Thursday."
"I'm sorry, sir, we were a little held up. I don't know if anyone has thought to inform you, but we were attacked again shortly after landing in Croydon."
"Croydon." Naylor shook his head. "I need to debrief you all thoroughly, I see. Good day, Lady Siward, Allerdale. You've been on quite an adventure. Come along inside. Sir James is waiting."
Sir James looked exactly like a steely-nerved professional, with his lined face, silver-grey hair and cool blue eyes. He greeted Emily with a warm handshake, escorted her to a chair and seated her personally.
"Sit down gentlemen," he said, which evidently didn't apply to Naylor who moved into position behind Sir James's shoulder ready to take notes. "I hope your journey was a pleasant one,” he said. “I must admit I do envy you your trip on the Orient Express. Their breakfasts are quite wonderful."
"Unfortunately we had no chance to take breakfast," Emily said. "Because shortly after leaving Budapest the train was blown up and fell off a viaduct."
"Oh good grief, you were involved with that?" Sir James's voice cracked with shock. "Dear lady, what an appalling thing to have happened. I trust you were not too badly shaken by it?"
"As you may have noticed," Emily gestured towards her face, "I managed to clash heads with my son. But the maid who was travelling with me broke her arm, poor dear, so we stopped off to make sure she had a checkup."
"Good, good. Siward
, Allerdale, I'll expect a full report from each of you. Speaking of which," Sir James linked his fingers and leaned forward an his desk, "I believe you have a report to make as well, Lady Siward?"
"I do," Emily said, her voice quiet but resolute.
"Then perhaps your son and Mr Allerdale can make a start on their paperwork - in your office, perhaps, Naylor - while we chat?"
Ushered out and provided with a pencil and foolscap each, Miles and Briers sat on the bentwood chairs and looked sidelong at each other.
"We have to stop meeting like this," they both said and dissolved into giggles.
"No, honestly Briers we must be sensible," Miles cackled again. "Naylor could be back at any moment."
"Giggling would be the least of his worries," Briers said. "Why is it that when I see you in your work gear I have this overwhelming urge to make you hot and sweaty and debauched?"
"I honestly believe that if Naylor walked in on us in flagrante over his desk, he'd take it in his stride," Miles said. He balanced the pad on his knee and began to write.
"Then sack the pair of us," Briers said. He sighed and leaned back in the chair then gave in and let himself touch Miles. Just a hand on the shoulder, his thumb stroking the short soft hair at the back of Miles's neck. "I wonder how much longer she'll be? Von Stroebel can't have told her that much."
"I suppose it's more of a case of what he said, rather than how long he took to say it," Miles mused. "But Mum won't spin it out. She can yarn with the best of them, but if it's important she can get her meaning across in just a few words."
"I noticed," Briers said, thinking of that moment in the hotel when Emily had asked him his intentions towards Miles. "She has a way with words, your ma."
Miles smiled, a little soft thing so different from Millie's broad grin. "I'm so glad you get on well together. Honestly, Briers, I was immensely relieved when she offered to knit for you. That's a real labour of love and not offered to just anyone. She'll probably make you a Fair Isle waistcoat with those woven leather buttons and a nice pocket for your pipe."