Codeword Golden Fleece

by Dennis Wheatley

  When he reached Cook’s office the middle-aged man stopped at the door, as though undecided whether to go in, waited until the Duke came up, politely made way for him to pass and followed him inside.

  On reaching the Foreign Travel counter, behind which there was only one clerk disengaged, de Richleau found the man beside him, so he said amiably in French: ‘I think you were really first, so do go ahead.’

  ‘No, no,’ the man protested. ‘I am in no hurry, but the enquiries I have to make will take some time. I would not dream of holding you up while I make them.’

  Out of the corner of his eye the Duke saw that the two youngsters who looked like students had now come in and were standing by a rack in the middle of the floor, from which they had taken some travel brochures which they were pretending to study with interest. He knew then that the possibility of his trying to send a message to anyone through Cook’s had been foreseen and guarded against. Even if he could have got rid of the man beside him, the others were watching him also and would intervene at once if they saw their comrade leave him.

  But de Richleau had also foreseen such a possibility, and he had placed the note for Sir Richard between the passports and written on the top left-hand corner of the envelope: ‘It is requested that this letter be despatched by hand to the British Legation as a matter of the utmost urgency.’

  He produced the pack of passports from his pocket and was just about to pass them across the counter.

  Suddenly the man beside him snatched them from his hand and, turning, stared into his face with a bright, false smile.

  ‘Permit me to help you. It always is a pleasure to assist a foreigner in the intricacies of travel.’

  Before the Duke had time even to protest, the man had shuffled quickly through the little pack, found the letter and removed it.

  With a beaming display of teeth he handed it back, exclaiming brightly: ‘Ah! This has got among them by mistake, I expect. Put it safely in your pocket. Tell me where you wish to go, and I will arrange everything. It is such a pleasure to help a visitor to Bucharest. Do you not think it a lovely city?’

  ‘Turkey,’ grunted the discomfited Duke, who could cheerfully have pushed the man’s teeth down his throat, but there seemed little choice but to stand by while this officious stranger did his business for him.

  When the transaction was completed de Richleau made a show of thanking the man in front of the travel agent, gave him one look that had it been the thrust of a dagger would have killed, and walked stiffly back to the hotel.

  His friends saw at once that he was in one of his rare tempers, and Marie Lou asked him tactfully if anything had upset him.

  For a moment he could hardly speak, then he burst out; ‘I’ve been made a complete fool of by a little twerp of an Iron Guard agent. On the pretence of helping me get those tickets he simply took the passports out of my hand, found our letter and handed it back to me, while I stood there like a ninny!’

  ‘Oh, Greyeyes, darling! How horrid for you!’ exclaimed Marie Lou, her big eyes opened wide in sympathy. But the mental picture of the Duke’s discomfiture proved too much for her, and, her sense of humour overcoming her pose, she suddenly gave way to peals of laughter.

  The others joined in, and after a moment even de Richleau’s fury with himself was dispelled to the extent of his muttering with a smile: ‘Yes, I suppose there is a funny side to it, but I’ve a very good memory for faces, and if I ever come up against that impertinent little brute again I’ll choke the life out of him.’

  In spite of their amusement, they were quick to appreciate the serious side of the matter, and very soon their laughter had given way to anxious consultation.

  They had counted more than they realised on getting this letter to Sir Reginald, the sands of their time in Bucharest were rapidly running out, and, rack their brains as they would, they could think of no other way of communicating with either the Minister or Teleuescu; and, if they could not get the banker’s draft to the latter that day, they might never have another chance to secure the all-important option.

  Silent and anxious, they dispersed to finish their packing, and while doing it rack their brains afresh, but when they met again in the Duke’s suite a few minutes before half past eleven none of them had any suggestions to offer.

  Downstairs in the hall two white-coated ambulance men were waiting for them, and, taking the carrying-chair, in which Richard had been brought down in the lift, from the porters, they bore him out to the street.

  As the Duke followed with the others, he saw that a long, low, open car was drawn up just behind the ambulance. In it were his two visitors of the night before and two other stalwart young men; so it seemed that the deportees were not to be given any chance of jumping out of the back of the ambulance on the way to the station. They all crowded into it, and the doors were not only slammed but locked behind them.

  De Richleau was crushed up next to Lucretia, and it was the first chance he had had to have a proper look at her that morning. He thought she was looking a trifle better, but decided that might be due to the soft glow from the shaded electric light. In any case, she was still listless and silent and refrained from speaking unless a direct question was put to her.

  The ambulance pulled up smoothly, its doors were unlocked, and they descended into the station yard. The car with the four Iron Guards in it had pulled up just behind them, and the short, dark man got out, followed by his companions.

  Having saluted the Duke’s party politely, while his fair friend was securing porters for them the leader handed them their passports and escorted them through the barrier and on to the platform. The long train was already in the station, and their reservations were all in order. Richard was carrried through on the stretcher by the ambulance men, but he was now sufficiently recovered to get into the train unaided and lie down on the day berth that had been considerately ordered for him. The others sorted themselves out and made themselves comfortable, while the dark man kept a watchful eye on them.

  Just before the train was due to leave, the two Iron Guards who had remained out in the yard to supervise the stretcher party reappeared with a pile of luncheon baskets, an armful of periodicals in several languages, two large bunches of flowers and two big boxes of chocolates.

  As they were handed in, the leader said to de Richleau: ‘We would not have you leave Rumania thinking us inhospitable. Please accept these trifles with our best wishes for a good journey.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the Duke smiled. ‘That is most considerate of you. Please believe that, whatever you may imagine about us now, we have the true interests of Rumania at heart, and in happier times we shall all hope to make a longer visit to your beautiful country.’

  The door was closed, the whistles blew, and the train steamed slowly out of the station.

  ‘Aw, hell!’ muttered Rex, as it gathered speed, and they passed the extreme end of the platform. ‘Did you ever hear of such lousy luck?’

  ‘Yes. Beaten on the post,’ sighed Richard.

  ‘Um, we’ll never get the Golden Fleece now,’ added Simon gloomily, as he turned in the doorway to go to his place in the next compartment.

  De Richleau was standing in the corridor with him, and Marie Lou suddenly noticed that he was smiling.

  ‘What is it, Greyeyes?’ she asked quickly. ‘You’ve got an idea. You always have when you smile like that.’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed anything?’ he replied with tantalising slowness. ‘Something they forgot when they gave us that splendid send-off.’

  ‘Noticed anything? Why no. What more could they do than give us lunch, papers, chocolates and these flowers, which are quite heavenly?’

  ‘Yes, they were a charming thought. Those young devils could hardly keep their eyes off you and Lucretia. But let me put it then that someone is missing in our party.’

  ‘There can’t be. Lucretia is tucked up in a corner of the compartment next door, and the rest of us are all—’

  ‘Good God
!’ cut in Richard. ‘I see what you’re driving at now. They haven’t saddled us with an escort.’

  ‘Exactly,’ laughed the Duke. ‘I took it for granted that some of them would see us safely across the frontier, but apparently that didn’t occur to them. So we’ve a sporting chance yet.’

  ‘Where’s our first stop?’ Simon jerked out.

  ‘On an express like this I shouldn’t think we’ll pull up until we reach Giurgevo. That’s the frontier town before we enter Bulgaria.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ sighed Marie Lou ‘I expect that’s hours away and much too far for any of you to get back to Bucharest before tomorrow. You shouldn’t have raised our hopes like this.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ smiled de Richleau, ‘Giurgevo is less than fifty miles from the capital. Mind you, there’s many a slip … They may have telphoned some of their friends to meet the train and see us over the border. But, if not, any of us who has a mind to it should easily be able to get back to Bucharest by the evening.’

  Richard groaned. ‘May the devil take those Polish policemen who made me wreck that car. I’ve the mind to go back all right, but crocked as I am it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to let me come with you.’

  ‘No, Richard, I’m afraid we must leave you out of this.’ The Duke’s tone was sad but firm. ‘You know how we shall miss you, but you couldn’t run ten yards, and anyone who comes on this party must be able to take care of himself.’

  ‘You can count me in with knobs on,’ cried Rex enthusiastically. ‘I’m just pining to have a second crack at old von G.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have turned up in Bucharest if I’d been on that landing at Lubieszow,’ Simon remarked with unusual sharpness. ‘Don’t like firearms, but you leave him to me if we run up against him tonight.’

  ‘O.K., Simon,’ Rex grinned good-naturedly. ‘He’s your meat next time; but I only hope there’s not a darn’ great door between you to interfere with your shooting.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ remarked the Duke. ‘You two will come back with me, unless we are prevented from getting off the train. Richard, Marie Lou and Lucretia had better go straight through to Istanbul, since the Iron Guard have been considerate enough to pay their fares that far. Once they are there it shouldn’t be difficult to secure passages to England.’

  ‘No fear!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘We’re not going back to England until we know you’re safely through with this. We’ll sit tight in Istanbul at the Pera Palace Hotel until you three can join us there. Now, what about some lunch?’

  They opened the baskets and found them to contain excellent fare. De Richleau took his into the next compartment to keep Lucretia company; but she ate automatically and roused from her lethargy only when he told her that Rex, Simon and himself were returning secretly to Bucharest that evening.

  ‘Oh, be careful, darling!’ she pleaded. ‘Be careful, please, I have so little to cling to now, and you are my biggest sheet anchor. I can’t think what I should do if I lost you.’

  ‘I will,’ he assured her. ‘I’ve never taken a risk yet that was not justified by the circumstances. It’s you who must take care of yourself and, hard as it may be for you now, try to realise that time heals all sorrows.’

  Over an hour had sped by while they were lunching, and soon afterwards the three who were to attempt to leave the train began to make their preparations. They repacked their suitcases, filling one bag with their most immediate requirements, then the good-byes were said, and the Duke, Simon and Rex made their way to the extreme end of the train.

  They did so in the hope that, the train being very long, the rear coaches might be left standing outside the platform, and their hope proved to be justified. With Rex carrying the suitcase, they slipped off from the last exit before the guard’s van.

  The guard shouted something after them, but they ignored his cries, and within a minute had disappeared behind an array of coaltrucks in the outer sidings of the station.

  Having reached the street by one of the entrances to the goods yard, they gave the train ample time to pull out. Then, silent from anxiety as to whether they would find a posse of angry Iron Guards searching for them, they made their way round to the station’s front entrance.

  No Iron Guards were present in the booking-hall, and they learned that there was a train leaving for Bucharest in twenty minutes.

  They took their tickets and went on to the platform. Still no Iron Guard uniforms were to be seen, except for two worn by obviously casual travellers, both of whom had bags beside them at their feet.

  The anxious moments ticked away. The train drew in, they boarded it without anyone paying special attention to them. There was another agonising wait, then it rolled out, and all three of them sighed with relief.

  There were three stops before Bucharest, but only a ticket collector came in to disturb them for a moment. On reaching the capital, they felt increasingly nervous. If for some reason or other their absence on the train had been reported from the frontier, the little dark man would be there to meet them, and every exit to the station would be guarded. But it seemed that their luck was in. They passed through the barrier among the crowd of passengers, and the collector who took their tickets did not even look at them.

  Outside in the station yard the Duke caught sight of a clock. It stood at ten past four, so they still had several hours of the day before them, and he thought it most unlikely that Teleuescu would give up hoping to see them before midnight.

  ‘We’ve as good as done it,’ laughed Simon.

  ‘Yes,’ the Duke agreed. ‘Thank God the Prime Minister was to sign the thing this morning, and not tonight. We’ve only got to get out to Teleuescu’s house and collect it now.’

  It was at that moment that he saw an unusual stir among the crowd outside the station, and noticed that there were many more people to be seen about the adjacent buildings than was usual at that hour, before the siesta was fully over.

  Newsboys were shouting excitedly, and the people were grabbing their papers from them. The Duke knew little Rumanian but that language has a marked resemblance to Italian, and he spoke Italian fluently.

  For a moment the repeated cries rang meaninglessly in his ears, then he stopped dead as he grasped their terrible import. The newsvendors were shouting:

  ‘Prime Minister assassinated! Calinesco murdered by Iron Guard this morning!’

  14

  The Ambuscade

  ‘What’s it all about?’ asked Rex, as the Duke stopped, turned and stared with an expression of shocked distress at the crowd. ‘What are all those palookas so het-up over?’

  ‘The Prime Minister!’ gasped the Duke. ‘He’s been assassinated by the Iron Guard. It happened this morning.’

  ‘Now we are in a muddle!’ Simon’s head jerked in a nervous spasm. ‘What time did it happen? We must try to find out.’

  They turned in their tracks and hurried back to the station entrance. The Duke bought a paper, and the other two peered over his shoulders at the black banner headlines and the apparently incomprehensible script underneath.

  The Rumanians are now a mixture of many races, but their purest stock comes from the Roman Legions that were left stranded in the ancient Province of Dacia after the fall of Rome. When the nations of the west were still semi-barbarous tribes Rumania was already a civilised country with Latin as her most commonly used form of speech; and through all the centuries the Roman influence has never been entirely submerged.

  In consequence, although de Richleau could speak only a few phrases of Rumanian, his knowledge of Latin and Italian enabled him to get the rough sense of the front-page news. Few details were, however, as yet given. The Prime Minister had been attacked in the street on his way to his office that morning. His car had been held up by a lorry driven across the road, and a score of men both in it and on the nearby pavements had drawn pistols and fired upon him.

  He had been riddled with bullets before the police could come to his aid, but some of his assailants had be
en caught and they had all proved to be members of the Iron Guard.

  ‘Wonder whether the poor chap signed before they got him?’ muttered Simon, when the Duke had finished translating the few paragraphs.

  ‘We’re sunk if he didn’t,’ said Rex.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ agreed the Duke. ‘If the Iron Guard felt themselves strong enough to perpetrate a national outrage like this it can only be because they feel confident that whoever replaces Calinesco will be much more favourable to them; and any man who is well disposed towards the Iron Guard would certainly refuse to countersign our option.’

  ‘That’s so,’ Rex nodded. ‘But better the Golden Fleece with no Prime Minister’s signature on it than no Golden Fleece at all. Let’s get along out to old man Teleuescu’s place and learn where we stand.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said the Duke. ‘We have plenty of time before us, and I think we would be wise to secure some sort of base before we go out to the Chaussée Kisseleff. The Prime Minister’s assassination may be the opening act of a coup d’état by the Iron Guard. By tonight the police may be openly under their control and all the stations be guarded to prevent their political enemies escaping from the capital. If it becomes known to them that we have returned we shall be among the hunted; so, if only as a reasonable precaution, we ought to find a place where we can go to ground should the need for it arise.’

  ‘Sure. Let’s find a place where we can dump this, anyway.’ Rex looked down at the heavy suitcase he was carrying. ‘And beds where we can doss down for the night.’

  ‘Pity we haven’t got that shooting-brake you brought Richard in from Poland,’ Simon remarked. ‘Would be jolly useful now to get us to the frontier if we have any difficulty in getting on a train.’

  ‘It is still in the hotel garage,’ said the Duke. ‘But I don’t think we dare risk going there to get it. You’re right about our needing a car, though. I think we’ll try to buy one.’