The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

Home > Romance > The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) > Page 19
The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 19

by Alexander Wilson


  The roof was covered with debris of all sorts, and Wallace tripped over various things before his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Then he made a thorough search, and found that it would have been easy for anyone to have escaped that way, by running over the roofs of the adjoining houses. He turned back to the trapdoor with an exclamation of disgust. He had just lifted it preparatory to descending, when there was a thud close to him.

  ‘H’m! There’s somebody about with one of those delightful silencers on his gun!’ he murmured to himself, as he dropped behind a large weather-worn packing-case. ‘Now I wonder from what direction that bullet came?’

  He proceeded to consider the position. If he found out where his assailant was, he might have a chance of getting him, and the only way to find out would be to see the flash when he fired. The question was, how to get him to fire without endangering his own life.

  ‘If I stand up,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll probably see the flash all right, but I should also leave a widow and one child so that’s no good.’

  At that moment the trapdoor close to him began to rise.

  ‘Go back, Batty!’ he commanded.

  ‘It is I – Rainer!’ replied a voice.

  ‘Well, don’t come up!’ said Wallace. ‘Unless, of course, you are tired of this sad world, and want to commit suicide.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There is someone up here with a revolver, and attached to it is a silencer, which these people specialise in.’

  ‘Whereabouts is he?’

  ‘My dear man, that’s what I would like to find out. I suppose he is placed up here to cover Levinsky’s retreat.’

  ‘Levinsky! Was he here?’

  ‘He was. He entered about two minutes before I blew the whistle. And with his usual agility he’s slipped through my fingers.’

  ‘Then it must have been his car I saw standing near the Lohari Gate.’

  ‘Good Lord! Then, man alive, send some men there! You may be in time to get him yet.’

  ‘I’ll go myself.’ The trapdoor went down with a bang as the Commissioner descended.

  Then an idea occurred to Leonard by which he might discover where the watcher was. Near him was a pile of old sacks and it struck him that in the darkness the fellow could not possibly see anything clearly; thus if he bundled up the sacks together, and pushed them through the trap, they might be mistaken for him.

  He immediately acted on the idea. He made the sacks into as large a bundle as he could, then pushed up the trapdoor with his foot, and held it there. That part of his scheme accomplished, he raised the sacks above the packing-case, and cautiously looking over the top, with his head as far from the bundle as possible – he had previously removed his turban – he began to move it towards the opening, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out. The scheme was successful for as he was pushing the bundle through the trap there was a flash from the roof of the next house, and another, and two distinct thuds. Wallace let the bundle drop through and the trapdoor crash into place. Then quickly he drew his revolver.

  ‘Now, my lad!’ he said. ‘I know where you are, and if I mistake not, you’ll make a dash for safety.’

  He was right. A shadow rose from the place whence the flashes had come, and moved across the roof. Taking deliberate aim at the lower part of it, Leonard fired twice. There was a cry of agony and a crash as some heavy body fell. At the same moment the trapdoor was raised again and Batty appeared.

  ‘Are yer all right, sir?’ he called, and got a surprise, when he heard Wallace’s voice reply close to him.

  ‘Yes, I’m all right, Batty, but the other fellow isn’t! Come up if you can.’

  The sailor immediately climbed on to the roof.

  ‘Mr Rainer sent for a ladder, sir,’ he explained; then added: ‘I was comin’ up just now, sir, when a pile of dirty sacks fell on me ’ead, an’ they made me sneeze so much that I couldn’t get no breath back for a minute or two.’

  Wallace laughed.

  ‘I pushed those through, Batty,’ he said. ‘I thought you might be cold waiting there. Sacks are warming, you know.’

  ‘I don’t want no warmin’, sir, beggin’ yer pardon, sir; I’m ’ot!’

  ‘Well, come along, and help me to get that fellow down. He’s groaning enough to wake the dead.’

  They crossed to the other roof, and between them managed to get the wounded man down the ladder and into a room where they laid him on a couch. Wallace examined him carefully, and found that one bullet had gone through the fleshy part of the thigh, and the other had lodged behind the knee.

  ‘He’s not very badly hurt!’ he said. ‘It won’t be long before he is quite all right again.’

  He took the revolver with its silencer attachment from the man.

  ‘We shall be getting a regular collection of these things,’ he said. ‘Now, Batty, just keep an eye on him, while I go and have a look round. I’ll send someone to relieve you!’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ replied the sailor, and added: ‘He’s the bloke – beggin’ yer pardon, sir – man wot came into the ’ouse with the tall feller, ain’t he?’

  Wallace gazed at the captive for a moment or two.

  ‘I believe you’re right, Batty,’ he said, and went out of the room.

  Batty, left alone with the groaning man, looked at him reflectively. By this time he had rubbed most of the paint from his face, and did not look quite so fearsome an object as he had done.

  ‘If I ’ad me way,’ he murmured, ‘you’d be ’ung for tryin’ to pot the guv’nor. Don’t yer know as ’e’s the most vallyble man in England? An’ you goin’ playin’ about with a revolver as if ’e was a cove that didn’t matter, like you! Shiver me timbers, but you blokes ain’t got no sense o’ proportion, none whatsomever, no’ow!’

  The man groaned.

  ‘Oh, stow it!’ grunted the sailor. ‘You ain’t ’urt, an’ you take it from me, that you’re a bloomin’ lucky bloke an’ ought ter be full o’ gratitood, not makin’ a fuss. The guv’nor could ’ave killed yer easy only ’e’s such a blinkin ’umane feller that ’e never kills unless it’s necessary. I never seen a shot like ’im, ’e never misses nowise!’

  ‘Sahib, I am sorely hurt!’

  ‘Oh, so yer speak English, do yer? Well, that’s summat in yer favour!’

  ‘I was compelled against my willings to shoot at the other sahib!’

  ‘I’ve ’eard that tale afore. An’ now against yer willings you’ll go to the lock-up!’

  ‘My master he make me stop, and say shoot if sahib comes. And what could I do but obey him?’

  ‘Yer could ’ave told ’im ter go to the devil nice an’ polite like. Where’s he gone?’

  ‘God knows!’

  ‘An’ so do you!’

  While this conversation was taking place, Wallace went down the stairs, and found the whole building in the hands of the police. Everybody who had been discovered on the premises had been taken to the Anarkali police station under a strong guard. As he reached the lower floor he met Rainer who had just returned. The latter failed to recognise Leonard at first, and when he did passed flattering comments on the disguise.

  ‘It was no good,’ he added ruefully. ‘The car had gone when I reached the gate with my men.’

  Wallace nodded.

  ‘He’s the most slippery customer! Our only hope now is that he will go to Davis Road, and if he gets away from there, he’ll be followed by Major Brien.’

  ‘Will he know that you’re after him?’

  ‘Not exactly, but he’s not the man to take any risks. In fact he may not return to his bungalow at all, and in that case we’ll have a devil of a job to find him again … Have you discovered anything of interest here?’

  ‘I have two European, and two Indian sergeants on the job. Shall we go and see if they have come across anything?’

  ‘Yes!’

  The two went into one of the inner rooms, which had apparently been used as an office. Here two khaki-clad Englishmen we
re busily engaged in sorting out correspondence, circulars, handbills and a multitude of other literature. They looked up as Rainer and Wallace entered and saluted.

  ‘Have you found anything, Fielding?’ asked the Deputy Commissioner of the elder of the two men.

  The sergeant smiled grimly.

  ‘There is enough seditious stuff here, sir, to inflame the whole of India,’ he replied.

  Wallace and his companion glanced through some of it. In the majority of cases it was in Urdu, and as Leonard could not read the language it was translated to him. There were stirring calls to clear the country of the English oppressors; instructions to Communists of the inner circle with regard to the procuring of arms, sowing discontent among the troops of the Indian Army, and generally raising a state of unrest in the minds of the populace. There was a whole pile of documents relative to the glories of Communism, couched in laudatory terms respecting the beauties of the ideal government as practised in Russia, and describing how the Soviet were prepared to help the Indian people with money, men and guns to drive the British into the sea.

  ‘Great Scott!’ exclaimed Rainer. ‘What a haul!’

  Wallace nodded.

  ‘I believe there are places like this all over India, and I think there is likely to be a list of them here somewhere. You haven’t come across one?’ he asked Fielding.

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Fielding, who had taken some time to realise that the Indian gentleman with his chief was in reality an Englishman and the famous head of the British Intelligence Department.

  ‘Where are Majid and Feroz Din?’ enquired Rainer.

  ‘In the next room, sir, searching the cupboards.’

  The Commissioner read a few more extracts for his companion’s benefit, and then a tall, smart Indian policeman entered the room carrying three sealed packages. He saluted gravely and addressed Rainer.

  ‘These packages, sir, we found in the safe, which has been forced open.’

  Rainer took them. They were heavily sealed, and two were addressed to people with Russian names, one in Paris and the other Berlin. The third envelope was blank. The Commissioner tore them open, and the contents caused him to whistle. Wallace smiled slightly.

  ‘Photographic copies of Elliott’s plans,’ he said. ‘Now we’re well on the track. Did you capture Ata Ullah himself, or whoever is the head of this business?’

  ‘No,’ replied Rainer. ‘Either he was out, and will, therefore, have been warned, or else he has got away with Silverman.’

  ‘Probably the latter,’ said Leonard. ‘Let us go to the private apartments upstairs; we may find something there!’

  Rainer nodded and handed the three packages to him.

  ‘You had better take charge of these, Sir Leonard,’ he said. ‘If any of you find a list of addresses, or the original of these documents,’ he added to the three policemen, ‘bring them up to us!’

  They ascended the stairs, and went into the room where Batty still guarded his prisoner.

  ‘By Jove! I quite forgot about your man, Batty,’ said Leonard. ‘Has he said anything to you?’

  ‘Nothin’ of importance, sir,’ replied the sailor, and he repeated the conversation he had had with the wounded Indian.

  ‘H’m! As I thought – he is merely Levinsky’s jackal!’ He turned to the prisoner, and asked him, in his own language, if his master had been accompanied by another.

  ‘Yes, sahib!’ replied the fellow at once.

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘Ata Ullah, sahib!’

  Wallace stood in thought for a moment, then he asked Rainer to send for a doctor to attend to the man’s wounds and to have him removed. The Commissioner called down to one of his assistants and gave the necessary orders. He and Wallace made a systematic search of the apartment, even removing hangings and carpets, and looking in the most unlikely places for the list of addresses and Elliott’s original plans. In one corner stood an oriental desk, and this they examined first, but it appeared to be quite innocent of any suspicious papers. Aided by Batty who had been relieved of his duty, and to whom Leonard explained what they were searching for, they went through the other rooms on that floor; nothing, however, came to light. Twice one of the policemen below brought up lists of various addresses that had been found, but in no case were they the lists they were after. At last they desisted.

  ‘We haven’t been as successful as I hoped,’ said Leonard to Rainer. ‘I’m afraid all those other places will be warned, and make a clean sweep of everything.’

  ‘Still you’ve discovered enough here, Sir Leonard, to give us a good chance of cleaning up India, and we’ll be on the qui vive for the future.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I hoped to do the job thoroughly while I was about it. I’m going to have another look at that desk!’

  He returned to the front room, followed by the other two. Going carefully all over the desk he tapped it, and presently was rewarded by a hollow sound in one of the solid looking legs.

  ‘There’s a secret recess here,’ he said. ‘Fetch me something to split it open, Batty!’

  The sailor was off at once, and Wallace and Rainer examined the leg to discover how it opened.

  ‘If there is a cavity in there,’ said the Commissioner, ‘it has been very cleverly conceived!’

  He was thoroughly excited by now, and when Batty returned with a crowbar, he could hardly suppress his impatience as Wallace aimed blow after blow at the powerful desk. For some time it resisted the onslaught, but at last the leg began to give, and the three men, turning the desk upside down, pulled with their united strength until it came away in their hands.

  Inside was a narrow cavity, and Wallace drew out a small exercise book, which had been rolled up and kept in place by an elastic band. He opened it, and looked eagerly through the contents, which were in English.

  ‘Here we are!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Thirty-five addresses including this one, and the places I know of already in Karachi and Delhi. Probably written by Levinsky. Come on, Rainer, we’ll get to a phone at once, and ring up the Commissioner at Delhi!’

  They hurried downstairs, Rainer stopping only a minute to give further orders to Fielding. There was a powerful car outside, and threading its way through the gaping crowd which had collected, and along the narrow street, where its mudguards very nearly touched the houses on both sides, it carried them out of the city, up the Anarkali and presently stopped in the courtyard of the police station. Wallace was soon on the phone and after a wait of ten minutes, during which he almost lost his calm in his impatience, he was speaking to the Commissioner’s office at Delhi. He read out the list of addresses, and insisted upon the man at the other end repeating them to him as he copied them down. Then he gave peremptory orders that the deputy commissioners in each town mentioned should be immediately communicated with, and ordered to raid those addresses as already directed. The official at the other end repeated the instructions to ensure of there being no mistake, and Leonard rang off.

  ‘That’s that,’ he said. ‘Now we’ll go to Davis Road, and see what has happened there!’

  The car carried them to their destination, and they stopped some distance from Levinsky’s bungalow, and walked along the road. There was no sign of Billy anywhere, and presently Rainer gave a low whistle. Almost immediately a man who, from his dress, looked to be a bearer, sauntered up to them, and saluted the Commissioner.

  ‘Well, Abdul, where is the Major sahib?’ asked the latter.

  ‘At half past ten, your Excellency, a car drove up containing Silverman sahib and another man, and passed into the grounds of the bungalow. Hakim was lying by the porch, and saw the sahib enter the bungalow hurriedly, and go straight to the telephone in the hall.’

  ‘Of course, he sent out warnings,’ grunted Leonard to Rainer. The detective, who understood English, smiled slightly.

  ‘It was of no use, sahib,’ he said, ‘because the Major sahib had previously given orders that the telephone wires should be cut.’
<
br />   ‘Well done, Billy!’ murmured his friend.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Rainer impatiently.

  ‘After five minutes Silverman sahib finding that he could not get a reply to his call threw down the receiver in a fit of anger, and dashed into a room. He quickly returned, and jumping into the car, they drove away rapidly in the direction of the Cantonments. The Major sahib had been warned at once, and he followed, taking Hakim and Juggat Lal with him. But before going, he ordered, me to remain here and inform your Excellencies that as soon as he had news, either Juggat Lal or Hakim would ring up and inform you.’

  ‘Is the telephone call coming through to my house?’ asked Rainer.

  ‘Yes, sahib. I gave him your number!’

  ‘Good! Do you want to search his bungalow, Sir Leonard?’

  ‘No! Just order your men to take possession of it, and make a systematic search tomorrow. We’d better get back to your place as soon as possible.’

  Rainer gave the detective orders to keep watch over the house until he was joined by others, for whom he would send directly when he arrived home; then he and Wallace returned to the car and drove off.

  ‘You must be pretty famished, Sir Leonard,’ said the Commissioner.

  ‘I’m more thirsty than hungry,’ replied Wallace. ‘I think a whisky and soda is indicated. Batty must be pretty dry too,’ he added. Batty, sitting in the front of the car with the driver, overheard and smacked his lips.

  ‘Indicated is the word,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Swab me decks if it ain’t.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A Desperate Chase

  Brien, waiting in a powerful Buick, almost opposite Silverman’s bungalow, but up a dark lane that completely hid the car from view, found time pass tediously. However, during his years of service in the Intelligence Department he had become used to this sort of thing; he made himself comfortable, and spent the time smoking and wondering if his friend and chief was having any success. He was also a trifle anxious, for he realised only too well how Wallace, in spite of his assertions that there was no danger, went into the most desperate situations without the slightest hesitation; almost invariably, in fact, as though he were walking into a lady’s drawing room. But Billy also knew that there was nobody in the world more wide-awake than his friend, in spite of his lazy air certainly nobody who had a more uncanny instinct of the proximity of danger; this knowledge comforted him somewhat.

 

‹ Prev