Spy and Spy Again

by Ray Saunders

  She seemed interested in my life but seemed reluctant to talk about hers.

  We came out and stood waiting for a taxi. “The night’s still young,” she said. “There’s a little bar close to your hotel, shall we go there for a nightcap?” she asked me.

  “That would be nice,” I said.

  When a taxi came, I flagged it down, and she gave the driver the address.

  The little bar was quite dark, and the atmosphere was smoky. We found a little table and sat down. When the waiter came, she ordered two cognacs.

  She looked across to me, and in the dim light I could make out her profile, and as she spoke her voice had a warmth that was alluring.

  “You told me earlier, Matt, that you thought I was unhappy. Why do you think that?”

  “It’s a sixth sense that I have, I’m good at assessing people.”

  She laughed “But you hardly know me. What gives you the impression that I’m not happy in my work?”

  “What exactly is your work?” I asked.

  “I’m the scientific and agricultural attaché at the embassy, and I’m directly responsible to the ambassador.”

  I leaned across and found her hand and held it. “I knew that you must have an important position, but I’m not thinking about your work. What about your private life?”

  She hesitated before she answered. “I have to admit that you’re right about that. I knew that my husband was having affairs, and it finally got too much for me. When my daughter was old enough to understand, I divorced him. The trouble is, I miss not having a man in my life.”

  I signalled to the barman and ordered two more cognacs.

  “Well, you’re an attractive woman. You’re intelligent and sophisticated, so what’s stopping you?”

  “Because it isn’t easy to find the right one. I shall be forty shortly, and the best ones seem to be already taken.”

  I laughed. “The saying goes that life begins at forty,” I said.

  “Maybe for men, but for women it’s different,” she replied.

  “I’m sure you’re underestimating yourself. There must be lots of available men out there looking for such a woman as you.”

  “If you know of any, perhaps you’ll point them in my direction,” she said, squeezing my hand.

  “Will do,” I said.

  “Do you have anyone in England?” she asked.

  “Only my housekeeper, Flo,” I said.

  “Is she young and attractive?”

  “She’s old enough to be my mother, and if anyone got fresh with her, she’d probably break their neck,” I laughed.

  We left and I hailed a taxi. Arriving back at my hotel I turned to get out. Before I opened the door, she took my arm.

  “Thank you for tonight, Matt, I enjoyed your company, and our discussion.”

  “I enjoyed it too,” I told her.

  I hesitated, then leaned back and kissed her.

  Her arms encircled my neck as she pulled me towards her, and we began kissing passionately.

  Then she disentangled herself, and I got out.

  “I’ll see you at the embassy in the morning,” I said. “Good night, Marion.”

  I closed the door.

  Winding down the window, she said, “I won’t be there till ten-thirty. Goodnight, Matt.”

  I watched as the taxi drove off then went into the hotel.

  In my room I began thinking about the evening, and what she had told me. It did not quite add up, and I wondered if she was revealing herself to me for my sympathy, or did she have other ideas.

  It certainly seemed like it by the way she had kissed me. I liked her a lot, but she was rather too serious and rather aloof, for me to be interested, and I was not sure that I wanted to get involved with another woman, after my recent experience with Kim.

  I still could not get over the fact that Kim had deserted me for the second time.

  My sixth sense told me that there was something about this woman that I should be cautious of. She was charming, and attractive but there was just something about her that I could not quite figure out.

  Oh well. I still had the dream of a life in the country with the horses that I had always wanted.

  I was still thinking about it when I got into bed and fell asleep.

  Chapter 14

  Next morning at the embassy I met Marion in her office. We greeted each other, and I sat down.

  She looked at me from across her desk. “About last night, Matt. I think that I had a little too much to drink. I hope you didn’t get the wrong impression.”

  “What impression was that?”

  “The impression that I was making advances towards you.”

  “Why should I think that?”

  “Well, it wasn’t so much what I said, it was more our attitudes towards each other.”

  I looked across the desk at her. “I thought it was just two normal people enjoying a night out in each other’s company,” I said.

  “That’s good. I’m not looking for another relationship right now,” she said.

  I was not convinced that was true. She had probably changed her mind about me being mister right now that she’d had time to think about it. I was not exactly in the class that she had been used to.

  “What’s the job you have for me?” I asked.

  “There’s a sealed diplomatic bag we want you to take to England.”

  “I don’t understand why it can’t go by the usual messenger?” I queried.

  “Because it contains some most sensitive documents, and we need to ensure that whoever takes it can prevent anyone from stealing it. You were available so they chose you.”

  “It sounds to me that there’s likely to be some trouble that you’re not telling me about,” I said.

  “I can’t tell you any more than I have. I’m as much in the dark about this as you.”

  “Okay, so what do you want me to do.”

  “There’s a train leaving the Gare du Nord this afternoon. It connects to the night ferry from Dunkirk to Dover. When you get to Dover, you take the train to Victoria, and you’ll be in our offices in London in time to meet Mr Smith when he gets there.”

  “I see. So, I leave the car here, and catch the train. What about my gun?”

  “You keep that. You will be given a special licence that gives you diplomatic immunity. You must always keep the diplomatic bag with you. Show your licence at customs, and they won’t trouble you.”

  “Fair enough. What do I do in the meantime? Can we spend some more time together before the train leaves this afternoon?”

  “No, Matt, I’m busy. I’ll take you down to our security room, and that’s the last we’ll see of each other.”

  I could see that was final, so I did not pursue it. I was puzzled, however, at why she had such a sudden change of heart. Last night she seemed very warm towards me.

  Oh well, I told myself, it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, but it was somehow unsettling.

  When we reached the security room, she said goodbye and left. The man there greeted me and offered me a seat.

  “It’s not quite ready yet,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’d like a coffee.”

  “Black or white?”

  “White, please.”

  He ordered it from the intercom then turned to speak to me.

  “You’ve been told what you have to do. Do you have any questions?”

  “You seem to think that I’m going to run into some trouble,” I said. “What is it I’m expected to do if that happens?”

  “Prevent the bag being taken from you at all costs.”

  “Does that mean using my gun?”

  “It means you use anything to prevent the bag being taken.”

  “What if it came to a shoot-out?”

  “We don’t think that is likely.”

  “But if it does, what shall I do then?” I repeated.

  My coffee came and interrupted our conversation. The girl went out and
we continued.

  “We don’t want any publicity over this but as I’ve said, it’s vital that you don’t lose the bag.”

  I nodded.

  “Why am I going back by train? It would be quicker for me to fly.”

  He did not look pleased at my questions but could see that I would not be satisfied until he told me.

  “We know that the people who want the information the bag contains, have operatives here who are watching us. We are sending another bag by courier by the usual route, with instructions that if he’s challenged, not to resist. His bag will contain enough information to satisfy them it’s genuine.”

  “So why should I be expecting some trouble?”

  “Because this matter is of the utmost importance, and we don’t intend to underestimate our enemies.”

  It sounded plausible. “Fair enough. When do I collect the bag?”

  “I’ll go and see if it’s ready,” he said.

  He left and I sat and drank the coffee.

  Sometime later he came back. “They haven’t finished it yet. Perhaps you should leave and come back later.”

  “Okay, when?”

  “Better give them another couple of hours. It’s taking longer to decode the information than they expected.”

  “Why is that so difficult?”

  “Because this information is in a foreign language and using a system that we’re not familiar with.”

  “Why is it in a foreign language?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “It looks to me that what I’m taking to London doesn’t belong to us,” I told him.

  “I’ve told you too much already. Now leave and come back later,” he said tersely.

  I left and went to the car. I thought I would pass the time by getting a snack somewhere.

  The traffic was still as bad and finding a place where there was parking proved impossible, so I circled around and drove back. I sat in the outer office until I was told they were ready for me.

  “Right,” he said. “Here’s the bag, and here’s your papers and tickets. I’ll need your signature to confirm you’ve taken it.”

  He passed me the document, and I read it then signed.

  I picked up the briefcase.

  “I’ll get our driver to take you to the station. Where’s your car?” he asked me.

  “I’ve left it outside.” I handed him the keys.

  “Have you got your gun?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay. “You’ll be covered by your ID if you show that at customs. The diplomatic service gives you immunity from any disclosures.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  We shook hands. “Good, I’ll take you to the driver,” he said.

  I took the briefcase, picked up my grip, and followed him out of the door.

  “The briefcase is sealed and is not subject to any customs examination so keep it with you at all times. The permit you have will cover you for everything,” he said.

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

  We met the driver, and he opened the car door, and took my valise.

  I turned to the security man. “Goodbye,” I said.

  “Goodbye, and good luck,” he replied.

  With that we drove off to the station.

  ***

  It was busy when we reached the Gare du Nord, and as the driver pulled up outside, I got out.

  After thanking him I made off towards the entrance. Once inside I was confronted by a large, domed structure under which were many platforms. It was said to be the largest railway station in Europe, handling millions of passengers every year.

  I walked along, carrying my bags, until I saw the platform with a notice declaring it to be the night train to Dunkirk. A long line of carriages was lined up along the platform. I went to the barrier, and after my tickets were checked, I walked along the row of carriages to find my booking.

  They had booked me a first-class ticket with a sleeping compartment, and I noticed there was a restaurant carriage in the middle of the train.

  Finding my carriage, I climbed aboard, and was met a steward. He spoke to me in French and indicated for me to give him my bags. Handing him my valise, I told him in English that I needed to keep the briefcase. With that he replied in English, asking me to follow him and took me to my compartment.

  It was quite small but had a bunk bed and washbasin, but no toilet. That was along the corridor.

  “There is a restaurant car, sir, and meals are served throughout the journey.”

  I thanked him and gave him a tip.

  It was some time before we eventually pulled away. It was noisy as the steam train gathered speed and began the journey to Dunkirk.

  When we arrived, everyone had to make their way to the boat, while the train was shunted about around the dockside.

  I went on board and found my cabin. The purser met me and informed me that there would be a passport check on board, after we had embarked. I settled down and waited for the boat to sail.

  The weather forecast had not been good, and I wondered if the crossing would be rough.

  It was calm as the boat sailed through the sheltered water of the port area but as soon as we hit open sea it got progressively rougher. I was in a top deck cabin, and the spray from the waves were lashing against the porthole. The wire coat hangers in the little wardrobe continually slid from one end of the rail to the other with a musical clanging.

  I had never been seasick, but I was glad when we entered the calmer water of Dover harbour.

  The journey had been uneventful as far as any trouble was concerned, and when it came time to disembark, I put the briefcase under my arm, picked up my grip, and began walking along the corridor.

  I was halfway along when a large man confronted me. As we stood looking at each other he suddenly made a grab for the briefcase, and when I realised what was happening, I pulled back.

  As I did, he pulled out a knife and came at me. I dropped the valise and swung at him with the briefcase, knocking his arm away from me. He tried again, and I managed to grab his arm as we began struggling. His weight advantage enabled him to pin me against the side, but I held onto his wrist, and brought my knee up into his crotch.

  He bent forward in pain, and I struck him across the face with my other fist. It would have been enough to finish most assailants, but this guy was tough, and he recovered his balance, and continued to struggle with me. I was losing strength trying to hold him off when the purser and two other passengers came along the corridor. Seeing us struggling together, the purser shouted and ran towards me. Realising he was outnumbered, my attacker let go and ran off.

  “You all right, sir?” the purser asked.

  “Yes, I’m okay — see if you can stop him.”

  As the purser made off, one of the passengers picked up the briefcase and handed it to me.

  “Were you being mugged?” he asked.

  “Something like that. But he didn’t get anything,” I told them.

  I picked up my valise as the purser came back.

  “He got away through the other passengers as they were leaving the ship,” he panted. “I’ll have to report this and inform the police.”

  “Why not let it go. I’m not hurt,” I said.

  “No, I’ll have to make an official report. If you come with me, we’ll go ashore to the police office.”

  It was useless trying to argue with him, so I followed him there.

  Once inside we waited for the appropriate officer to be found, and then there was endless form filling.

  “This is the first time we’ve had anything like this,” the police sergeant told me. He asked for my identity, and I gave it to him. I also showed him my authority that gave me diplomatic immunity from any official procedure. This was counterproductive, as then he said that he would have to check with his superiors. Before the purser left to go back to the ship, the sergeant told him that he would need the passenger list to see if it threw any light on who attacked me.

/>   The time this took meant that I missed the connecting train to Victoria.

  It was late when eventually they were satisfied, and when I left I was pissed off with it all.

  I left the port and went into the town. Coming to a hotel, I decided to get a room for the night and go to London in the morning. Mr Smith and the Foreign Office would have to wait.

  I booked in and took a shower, then when it was time, I went to dinner.

  I had a couple of aperitifs before I ate and drank a bottle of wine with my meal. When I got up to leave, I felt quite heady.

  Reaching my room, I went in, and taking off my coat and shoes, I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

  Chapter 15

  I came to the following morning and laid for a few minutes thinking about the previous day.

  I wondered how any outsiders could have known about my mission. It had not been just a mugging; the guy was intent on getting the briefcase. It was not just an impromptu attack; he was aware that I would be there. He must have boarded the boat in Dunkirk and waited for me just before we were about to get off in Dover. Maybe he was still around and had followed me here.

  I took a shower and changed my clothes, then went for breakfast. I was not hungry and settled for some coffee and scrambled eggs. After breakfast, I collected my things and went down to leave.

  Luckily, I still had enough English money to pay for my stay, and some over to pay for my train fare to London, if I could not manage to get my existing ticket transferred.

  I went to the station and checking the timetable, I was pleased to find that one was leaving for London in ten minutes.

  I tried to explain to the ticket clerk that I’d missed my connection, and that I needed him to transfer my ticket. He said it was complicated, and it meant I would miss the next train, so I paid for a single to London.

  Boarding the train, I kept an eye out for any trace of my assailant, but the journey was uneventful. When the train arrived in London, I took a taxi for my appointment with Mr Smith.