by John Creasey
‘Well, let’s get comfortable,’ he said.
Ushering them into the sitting-room, he glanced at his watch. It was half-past seven, thus explaining the fact that he felt ravenously hungry. He sent the others out for a meal; it was probable that both Hoppermann and his daughter would talk more freely to him alone.
He offered cigarettes; the girl refused, but Hoppermann took one.
With smoke curling towards the ceiling, Loftus spoke.
‘I’m not going to tell you how I discovered that 18 Galloway Road was of interest,’ he told the girl, ‘nor what led up to the visit. I’ll just say that I did discover it, went there, and found you a prisoner.’
Hoppermann ejaculated: ‘What’s that?’
Loftus explained briefly. Hoppermann’s eyes widened, and Loftus had a feeling that the man was jolted badly. He acted with a naiveté not to be expected from a man of authority and affairs.
‘What on earth happened to you, Christine?’ Hoppermann demanded as Loftus finished.
‘I hardly know, even now,’ she said slowly. ‘I was at my flat and somebody rang the bell. When I answered the door there were two men outside—one of them pushed a wad of something over my face, and I passed out.’
‘This is fantastic!’ said Hoppermann.
‘Did they ask you any questions?’ Loftus said. ‘After the passing-out stage, I mean.’
She smiled a little. ‘Yes, plenty—about my father. Where was he likely to be, where had I arranged to meet him—those, and a lot more. As I didn’t know he was in England, and wasn’t likely to want to see him anyway—nor he me, for that matter—I couldn’t tell them much. They grew hot-tempered, I guess, and I thought I was in for a bad time, but then they tied me up and gagged me.’ She glanced at her wrists and frowned, but made no further comment.
Loftus said slowly: ‘Well, we’ve a good explanation of that, I think. She was wanted to give details of your movements over here, Hoppermann. And there was probably an idea that she could be used to coerce you.’
Hoppermann frowned, and ran his fingers along his jaw.
‘You won’t need telling, Loftus, that Christine and I are not on good terms. We disagreed about—’
‘I’ll tell him,’ said the girl. She turned to Loftus. ‘Father disapproved of me marrying an Englishman. He had been continuously disapproving of everything I wanted to do myself for twenty-seven years, and I grew tired of it.’ She paused, losing a little of her colour. ‘My husband was killed in a car accident. Since then, I’ve been living in London.’
Hoppermann frowned.
‘The main point of difference was your marriage, and you know it. He was—’ The man paused, and coloured slightly. ‘Loftus, I had nothing against Christine’s husband, except that I disapproved of his mode of life. I may have been wrong—’ he brushed his hand over his forehead, and Loftus thought there was a hint of appeal in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. ‘Christine, you’ll always be welcome back home. Your mother grieves for you.’
Loftus broke a short silence.
‘Well, we know why Mrs. Weston was taken away, I think. Why did you come to see me, Hoppermann?’
‘I’ve talked at the Embassy, and our own people say that if anyone can solve this mystery, you can. I’ve already explained to you that I need to take a look at England, and must be back after seven days. It’s clear that I’ll need protection, and I want yours, Loftus. Can you arrange that?’
Loftus shrugged. ‘I’m not my own master you know. And I’m busy as it is.’
‘You can arrange it if you will.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Loftus. ‘But I’ll put it up to my superiors, and discuss it with them.’
‘How soon will you know?’
‘By midnight.’
‘What do you advise me to do until then?’
‘Go back to the Embassy and stay there,’ said Loftus grimly. ‘And if I were you I’d take Mrs. Weston with you. She’ll be safer there than anywhere else—besides, she’ll probably be able to tell you of some of the places where we need American help, and where we can help America—even though some people do seem to think we’re useless. Internal differences in America now can be disastrous, and internal differences will develop if the isolationists are able to get the backing of enough influential industrialists. But—’ he raised a hand as Hoppermann tried to interrupt. ‘But it goes deeper than that. It’s quite clear that powerful efforts are being made to prejudice American public opinion. Efforts appear to be directed against you, (a) to prevent you from seeing the truth, and (b) to create the impression in America that you were stopped by British agents. The effect of the latter will be enormous, if it succeeds.’
As he had been speaking the girl’s eyes had widened, and he saw her gripping the arms of her chair. Hoppermann was also looking at him wide-eyed, and appeared to be impressed. But it was Christine who spoke first.
‘It’s infamous. It mustn’t happen.’
‘It won’t if we can help it,’ said Loftus. He smiled quickly, and stood up. ‘Now I must have some food, I haven’t had a square meal to-day, and after that I must get busy. Shall I find you at the Embassy, Hoppermann?’
‘Yes, I’ll be there.’
‘And Mrs. Weston?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll dine there, if it can be arranged.’
‘Good,’ said Loftus. ‘And in case I need to see you again, what is your usual address?’
‘I’m at Bay Court, Park Lane,’ said Christine. ‘Number 120.’
Loftus saw them past the policeman on the landing, then returned to the sitting-room. From the window he noticed two Department Z agents, lounging in the street below, apparently with nothing better to do than glance from time to time at the evening papers. They looked up and saw him, and one nodded almost imperceptibly.
As Hoppermann and his daughter walked down the street, both agents fell in behind them.
And then, for the first time, Loftus saw the tall, thin man who, earlier in the day, had followed him and Hoppermann to the American Embassy. Loftus frowned, and started for the stairs; he was lucky, for the Errols were coming up.
‘Mike,’ said Loftus urgently. ‘Grey and Dunster are following Hoppermann and the girl. There’s a tall fellow with a bowler and an umbrella behind them. Watch him.’
‘Right!’ said Mike with alacrity, and he started down the stairs two at a time.
Loftus turned to Mark.
‘I’m going to get some dinner and then have a word with Craigie. Hold the fort until I’m back, will you? What’s happening to the others?’
‘Wally’s wrists are giving him trouble, and he’s gone to see the doc. Ned went with him for safety.’
‘H’m. They can’t watch all of us all the time,’ said Loftus.
He had a quick meal at a nearby restaurant, then hurried round to Craigie’s office. Craigie looked up with a smile.
‘Hallo, Bill, what’s turned up?’
‘A lot that isn’t much,’ said Loftus slowly, and he went through the afternoon’s work. Craigie made notes in a shorthand which only he and Loftus understood.
‘Has anything else developed?’ asked Loftus.
Craigie tapped the stem of his meerschaum against his teeth.
‘The howl is on, of course. No Press in the world would sit on the Hoppermann story unless it was forced to. It’s suggested that Hoppermann chose a different route because England advised him to, on the strength of Communist agents wanting to make sure he didn’t arrive.’
He broke off as the telephone rang, stood up and went to the desk. ‘Hallo.’ He paused, and then said: ‘Yes, Mike, go on.’
Loftus stiffened; ‘Mike’ could only be Errol.
It was rare that Craigie’s expression gave anything away, and it did not do so now. But when he finished, with a decisive: ‘Yes, at once,’ he turned to Loftus and said quickly:
‘They’ve got something. Hoppermann didn’t go to the Embassy, he was driven to a house in Putney. Mike’s
waiting outside 4 Lester Drive, near the Heath.’
Loftus was already at the door.
‘Putney, and next door to Barnes,’ he said. ‘That might give us something. Anything else?’
‘Hoppermann was followed from the cab by a man who looked as though he were holding a gun in his pocket.’
‘It could be true. Where did they pick up the cab?’ ‘It was standing at the corner of Brook Street and Piccadilly?’
‘Standing there!’ exclaimed Loftus. ‘My God, must they walk into trouble? I’ll ring you as soon as I can. Tell Ned and Mark to make it, will you?’
He went out, and hurried down the stairs, while Craigie lifted the telephone.
9
Not nice to know
Lester Drive was a long, straight road, leading from the Heath to Barnes, a fact which had already registered on Loftus’s mind. Number 4 stood in half-an-acre of ground, and was surrounded by a five-feet high hedge of privet, trimly cut, as were the lawns and the shrubs on either side of the short drive.
The cab stopped outside, and Cyrus K. Hoppermann stepped out, with a man following him. The man poked an unseen object against his coat, and Hoppermann walked stiffly, looking very pale.
The cab went on; Mike, some fifty yards behind, did not see the girl. Between him and the house was a car containing Grey and Dunster.
In a small car which he had entered in Piccadilly was the tall man with the bowler hat, so that there was a collection of vehicles near 4 Lester Drive, and in Mike’s opinion it was getting over-crowded. But there were times when it was quite impossible to keep their presence secret, and he saw no point in pretending secrecy then. He left his cab, telling the driver to wait for him at the end of the Drive, telephoned Craigie from a nearby call-box, then walked briskly up to Grey and Dunster.
After a short conference, Dunster hurried back to Mike’s cab, and soon afterwards went in chase of the taxi in which, presumably, Christine Weston was still sitting. Grey in turn followed the man in the small car, which moved off without warning, and after some three minutes Mike found himself alone, without car or cab, and within twenty yards of the house into which Hoppermann had been persuaded. Mike was quite sure that, and without being nervous he was afraid there might be trouble directed against himself also, for his arrival must surely have been seen.
Dusk was falling over the commonland, and heavy clouds were gathered in the west, hiding the last rays of the sun behind them, making it dark before its time.
Mike looked at his watch; half-an-hour had passed since he had ’phoned Craigie, and there was surely a good chance of Loftus arriving at any moment. But before Loftus reached the Drive, Ned and Mark pulled up near Mike, who felt relieved that he was no longer on solitary duty.
‘Anything?’ demanded Mark cryptically.
‘What do you know?’ asked Mike.
‘Nothing.’
Mike explained what he had seen, and the three men waited in the cover of a small cluster of bushes, the darkness falling about them, until soon it was safe for them to get nearer to Number 4.
Both inside and out, 4 Lester Drive was in excellent repair. It was, moreover, extremely well furnished, its owner, a Mr. Lewis, being a man possessing both wealth and good taste.
Three other people reached Number 4 that night. The Department Z men outside knew of their arrival, but could not see them well enough to identify them. Each rang the front door-bell, each was admitted by a sleek man-servant.
Lewis was sitting in the lounge hall, smoking a small cigar and reading an expensive American magazine, when his first caller was announced. He put the magazine down, and stood up gracefully.
‘Good evening, Pellisser. I’m glad you were able to come.’
Pellisser was a short, thick-set man, with fleshy cheeks and jowl, well-dressed, obviously agitated.
‘Have you got him?’
Lewis gave a faintly supercilious smile.
‘He’s on the premises.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said Pellisser, mopping his brow. ‘I was beginning to think—’
What he was beginning to think did not transpire, for once again the sleek man-servant opened the door.
‘Sir Geoffrey Gott.’
‘Ah, Gott!’ Lewis smiled as the second man entered, a man nearer sixty than fifty, grey-haired, red-faced, and more than inclined to plumpness. In his eyes was the same look of inquiry as Pellisser had betrayed.
‘Where is he?’
‘Quite safe, and here,’ said Lewis.
Gott drew a deep breath, and brushed a hand across his forehead. His eyes turned towards a cabinet, and Lewis smiled and waved a white hand.
‘Help yourself to a drink, my friend. And will you have one, Pellisser?’
‘I will,’ said Gabriel Pellisser. As Gott filled the glasses, Lewis added:
‘I think you can pour another. Manfrey will like one, I’m sure.’ He was glancing towards the door, and it opened on his words, for the man-servant to announce:
‘Lord Manfrey.’
The third visitor was tall and thin, sparse-haired, and with a small fair moustache.
He blinked about him, and stepped towards the cabinet. He had a high-pitched, grating voice.
‘’Evening, ’evening. Ah, a drink, I perceive.’ He took a bony hand from his pocket, and held it forward. ‘This mine—good, good.’ He drank quickly. ‘Ah—well, Lewis, well? Good news?’
‘He’s here,’ said Gott.
‘Ah.’ Tension dripped away from Manfrey. ‘Excellent work, my dear Lewis, ex-cellent. When I read in an evening paper that he had evaded us, I was positively—ah—afraid.’
Lewis smiled thinly.
‘You can’t always get your bird with your first barrel, Manfrey.’
‘Ah, no. Excellent figure of speech, ah!’ He laughed, on a reedy note, and finished his drink. ‘May I have one of your ex-cellent cigars, Lewis?’ He helped himself from a box on a small table. ‘Nothing more to worry about, then, nothing.’
Gott and Pellisser looked towards Lewis.
Nothing in Lewis’s expression suggested that he was greatly impressed by his visitors. In fact each would have been aghast had he known Lewis’s opinion of him. But whilst Lewis considered all three to be fools of the first order, they had a certain usefulness—albeit that usefulness might end at any moment.
He shrugged.
‘I am trying to put the position to you clearly, and without wasting time. Hoppermann is here, and I have little doubt that we can persuade him to do what we want, but there are complications. We are not alone in our interest in Hoppermann, gentlemen. The Government—the British Government, I mean—is also interested, and has arranged for some agents to look after our—er—guest. I was at first inclined to under-rate these agents, but on making closer inquiries, since they have worked very quickly and very well indeed, I find that they are members of a Whitehall Department which is very effective. I believe one or more of its members is outside this house now.’
‘What?’ snapped Pellisser.
‘Being watched, you can be assured,’ said Lewis. ‘The fact that someone was there made me insist that none of you arrive until well after dusk, for recognition would be fatal.’ He smiled a little when he saw how the others jumped, then went on: ‘It is reasonably certain that these agents know that Hoppermann is here, and they will of course try to get him back.’
‘This is ghastly!’ exclaimed Manfrey. ‘Why did you bring us here? How dare you—’
Lewis snapped: ‘I had to consult you, and it had to be here. There are risks in this venture, and you were fully aware of them before we started. Keep quiet, unless you have something constructive to say.’
His voice was not loud, but the tone of it startled the others. Only Gott appeared to be unaffected beyond the first surprise. After a pause he said:
‘There’s no need for that attitude, Lewis. Manfrey put a reasonable question—if you knew the house was being watched, why did you bring us here?’
‘It was necessary,’ Lewis began.
‘It wasn’t. You could have come to see us somewhere else.’
Lewis’s lips drew tautly across his teeth.
‘We simply don’t agree, Gott. I thought it necessary to bring you here, and to tell you exactly what was happening. Do I have to remind you that there are three exits? We can all get away exactly when we want to, and there is no danger provided you keep your heads. I sent for you because we must discuss this together, and we must also get Hoppermann out of the house. It will, of course, be of no further use to us. It is a pity,’ he shrugged, ‘but one of the inevitable expenses, and after all we are very well paid.’ He pressed the tips of his fingers together, then said more crisply: ‘We’re going to a new house I have obtained in Hampshire. There will be two cars waiting for us on the common at half-past ten, and if necessary we can wait on the common for half-an-hour.’ He glanced at a clock above the mantel-shelf, and added unnecessarily, since the others followed his gaze: ‘It’s now a quarter to ten, and we can get on with some of the business. If there is any approach to the house, we shall be told in good time. Do try to control yourselves.’
Manfrey helped himself to another whisky.
‘We have Hoppermann,’ Lewis went on, ‘and we have a good idea of his purpose here. We want to make sure that he does not get back to America with a report which—’
‘I don’t like this set-up,’ snapped Gott. ‘You’ve got Hoppermann, and we’ve arranged what is to be done with him. Why the talk?’
Pellisser interjected:
‘And there’s another thing, Lewis. Why did you bring Hoppermann here? It is a useful rendezvous, and as safe as anywhere in London. Bringing him here has given the police an idea of what’s been happening and—’
‘Nonsense!’ snapped Lewis. ‘The police have no such idea. All anyone will know is that Hoppermann was brought here. This house was bought under my name, and I am well known in the district. That will ensure that they will concentrate on looking more for me than any of you.’
Manfrey widened his little eyes.
‘Why yes, yes, of course. I didn’t understand that, but—very clever of you, Lewis, ex-cellent.’