Bagley, Desmond - The Tightrope Men

by The Tightrope Men

  'Yes.'

  'Then give me a cigarette, for God's sake!'

  Armstrong looked surprised but produced a packet of cigarettes. As he held a match for Carey, he said, 'You were a bit rough on Thornton, weren't you?'

  Carey puffed inexpertly, and coughed. 'It's the only way to handle a bastard like that. He's the biggest con man in Whitehall, but if you hit him over the head hard enough he gets the message.'

  'I'm surprised he took it from you. Aren't you afraid he'll jerk the rug from under you? I thought he was a big boy in the corridors of power.'

  'Corridors of power!' Carey looked as though he was about to spit. 'I wonder if C. P. Snow knew he was coining the cliche of the twentieth century. I'm not afraid of Thornton; he can't get at me directly. Anyway, I'm coming up to retirement and I'll spit in his eye any time I feel like it.'

  He drew on the cigarette and expelled smoke without inhaling. 'It's nothing to do with you, Ian. You just soldier on and don't worry your head about policy.'

  'I don't even know what it's all about,' said Armstrong with a smile.

  'You're better off that way.' Carey stood up and stared out of the window. 'Did you notice anything odd about that conversation?'

  Armstrong thought back. 'I can't say that I did.'

  'I did. Thornton got so mad at me that he slipped.' Carey drew on the cigarette and blew a plume of smoke. 'How did he know about Denison? You tell me that, my son, and you'll win a big cigar.' He held out the cigarette and looked at it distastefully, then stubbed it out in an ashtray with unnecessary violence. He said curtly, 'Let me know when Denison and McCready arrive.'

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Denison lay in the old-fashioned bath with steaming water up to his ears. He lay passively letting the hot water untie all the knots. His shoulders still ached abominably because of the paddling in the marsh of Sompio. He opened his eyes and stared at the elaborately moulded ceiling and then looked at the ceramic stove in the corner, a massive contraption big enough to heat a ballroom let alone a bathroom. He deduced from that that winters in Finland could be chilly.

  When the water turned tepid he got out of the bath, dried himself and put on his -- or Meyrick's -- bath robe. He looked down at it and fingered the fabric. From what Carey had said in the few brief remarks he had offered his days of high living were over. That suited Denison. In the past few days there had been less chance of high living than of low dying.

  He left the bathroom and walked along the panelled corridor towards the bedroom he had been given. It seemed that British Intelligence were not averse to a spot of high l ife; this country house reminded him of those old-fashioned detective plays in which the earl was found dead in the study and, in the last act, it was the butler what done it. Playwrights in those days seemed to think that everybody but butlers had butlers.

  He was about to go into his room when the door opposite opened and he saw Lyn. 'Giles, do you have a moment?'

  'Of course.' She held the door open in invitation and he went into her bedroom. 'How is Harding?'

  'He's quite a man,' she said. 'He took out the bullet and set the arm himself. He said it wasn't as bad as taking out his own appendix, as some doctors have had to do. Diana and I helped to bandage him.'

  'I don't think hell encounter any more bullets,' said Denison. 'From what I gathered from Carey this job is just about over. He said something about us flying back to England tomorrow.'

  'So it was successful -- he got what he wanted?'

  'Apparently so. There was a scientist here who checked the stuff. Diana and Ian Armstrong went back with him to England.'

  She sat on the bed. 'So it's all over. What will you do now?'

  'Go back into films, I suppose.' He rubbed his jaw and felt the unshaven stubble. 'Carey said he wanted to talk to me about that because it might not be too easy, not with someone else's face.' He waved his arm largely. 'All this Scandinavian stuff is supposed to be kept secret, so I can't very well go back to Fortescue as I am. He'd ask too many questions which I can't answer. The trouble is that the film world is small and if it isn't Fortescue asking awkward questions it will be someone else.'

  'So what's the answer?'

  'A man called Iredale, I suppose,' he said morosely. 'He's a plastic surgeon. I can't say I fancy the idea; I've always had a horror of hospitals.'

  'Do it, Giles,' she said. 'Please do it. I can't . . .'

  He waited for her to go on but she was silent, her head averted. He sat next to her and took her hand. 'I'm sorry, Lyn. I'd have given anything for this not to have happened. I didn't like the deception I played on you, and I told Carey so. I was about to insist that it be put to an end when you . . . you found out. I wish to hell we could have met under different circumstances.'

  She still said nothing and he bit his lip. 'What will you do?'

  'You know what I'll do. I've got a not very good degree so I'll teach -- as I told my father.' Her voice was bitter.

  'When will you start?'

  'I don't know. There's a lot to be straightened out about Daddy's death. Carey said hell pull strings and make it easy from the legal angle, but there'll still be a lot to do -- his will and things like that. There's a lot of money involved -- shares in his companies -- and there's his house. He once told me that the house would be mine if he died. That was just like him, you know -- he said "if" instead of "when".'

  Arrogant bastard, thought Denison. He said, 'So you won't start teaching for a long time.'

  Those different circumstances,' said Lyn. 'Perhaps they could be arranged.'

  'Would you like that?'

  'Oh, yes; to start again.'

  'To start again,' mused Denison. 'I suppose it's a wish we all have from time to time. Usually it's impossible.'

  'Not for us,' she said. 'After you've had the operation you'll be convalescent for a while. Come to the house and stay with me for that time.' Her hand tightened on his. 'If I could see Giles Denison's face in my father's house perhaps we could start again.'

  'A sort of exorcism. It might work.'

  'We can try.' She brought her hand up to his face and touched the scar on his cheek. 'Who did this to you, Giles? And who kidnapped my father to let him drown in the sea?'

  'I don't know,' said Denison. 'And I don't think Carey knows, either.'

  In the room directly below McCready was giving his report to Carey. He had nearly finished. 'It was a right shambles,' he said. 'The Czechs were shooting up everything in sight.' He stopped and considered. 'Except us.'

  'Who were the opposition?'

  'I don't know. They were armed with pistols, nothing bigger. We only saw them once in the marsh when Denison tickled them up with that overgrown shotgun. Remarkable man, Denison.'

  'I agree,' said Carey.

  'He keeps his cool in an emergency and he's a good tactician. It was his idea that we cross the marsh. It was a good idea because we didn't run into the Czechs at all. When the punt sank he led us out.' McCready grinned. 'He had us all lined up on a thirty-foot length of string. And his estimation of speed was accurate; we hit the main road just seven hours after leaving the hut.'

  'Did you have any trouble in Vuotso?'

  McCready shook his head. 'We nipped in quietly, got into the cars, and drove out. Not far from Rovaniemi we changed into decent clothing to make ourselves presentable for the flight south.' He grinned. 'There's a Dr Mannermaa in Vuotso -- a bird watcher. He's going to be a bit peeved about losing his punt and his gun.'

  'I'll straighten that out,' said Carey. 'You said the Czechs were also at Kevo.'

  'Czechs, Americans -- and a crowd of Germans hovering on the outskirts. I didn't tell the others about them because they never really came into the game.'

  'East Germans or West Germans?' asked Carey sharply.

  'I don't know,' said McCready. 'They all speak the same lingo.'

  'And then there was the chap who knocked Denison on the head and took the original map.'

  'I never spotted him from star
t to finish,' said McCready. 'I think he was a singleton -- working on his own.'

  'Four groups,' said Carey thoughtfully. 'And we can't identify any Russians for certain.'

  'Five,' said McCready. 'There's the gang that substituted Denison for Meyrick. They wouldn't have come chasing after us to Kevo and Sompio. They knew better.'

  Carey grunted. 'I have my own ideas about who did the dirty on Denison and Meyrick -- and I don't think the Russians came into it.'

  'You said Thornton was here. What did he want?'

  'I didn't find out,' said Carey. 'I wouldn't let him speak to me except in front of a witness and he turned chicken. He's too fly to be caught that way. But he knew about Sir Charles Hastings, and he knew about Denison.'

  'Did he, by God? Well have to seal that leak when we get back to London. What did Hastings say?'

  'Oh, we've got the goods all right. He's taken photocopies back to London. Now we can prepare for the next stage of the operation. I hope nothing happens tonight because I'd like to get Denison and the girl out of it. They're leaving tomorrow on the ten o'clock flight from Helsinki.'

  'Where are the original papers now?'

  'In the safe in the library.'

  'In that antique? I could open it with my grandmother's hat-pin.'

  Carey smiled blandly. 'Does it matter -- under the circumstances?'

  'No, I don't suppose it does,' said McCready.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Denison went to bed early that night because he had a lot of sleep to catch up on and because he had to get up fairly early to catch the flight to London. He said good night to Lyn and then went into his bedroom where he undressed slowly. Before getting into bed he drew the curtains to darken the room. Even though he was now below the Arctic Circle there was still enough light in the sky to make falling asleep annoyingly difficult. It would get darker towards midnight but never more than a deep twilight.

  He woke up because someone was prodding him, and came swimming up to the surface out of a deep sleep. 'Giles; wake up!'

  'Mmmm. Who's that?5 The room was in darkness but someone looked over him. 'Lyn,' she whispered.

  He elbowed himself up. 'What's the matter? Turn on the light.'

  'No!' she said. There's something funny going on.'

  Denison sat up and rubbed his eyes. 'What sort of funny?'

  'I don't really know. There are some people in the house -- down in the library. Americans. You know the man you introduced me to -- the man you said was a bore.'

  'Kidder?'

  'Yes. I think he's down there. I heard his voice.'

  Kidder! The man who had interrogated him in the hotel in Helsinki after he had been kidnapped from the sauna. The man who had led the American party at Kevo. The over-jovial and deadly boring Jack Kidder.

  'Christ!' said Denison. 'Hand me my trousers -- they're on a chair somewhere.' He heard a noise in the darkness and the trousers were thrust into his groping hand. 'What were you doing prowling in the middle of the night?'

  'I couldn't sleep,' said Lyn. 'I was standing at my bedroom window when I saw these men in the grounds -- there's still just enough light to see. They didn't seem to be up to any good -- they were dodging about a bit. Then they all disappeared and I wondered what to do. I wanted to find Carey or McCready but I don't know where their rooms are. Anyway, I looked down the stairs and there was a light in the library, and when I got to the door I heard Kidder's voice.'

  'What was he saying?'

  'I don't know. It was just a rumble -- but I recognized the voice. I didn't know what to do so I came and woke you.'

  Denison thrust his bare feet into shoes. 'There's a sweater on the back of the chair.' Lyn found it and he put it on. 'I don't know where Carey's room is, either. I think I'll just nip downstairs.'

  'Be careful,' said Lyn. 'I've heard enough shooting already.'

  'I'll just listen,' he said. 'But you be ready to scream the place down.'

  He opened the bedroom door gently and went into the dimness of the corridor. He trod carefully on his way to the stairs to avoid creaking boards, and tiptoed down, his hand running along the balustrade. The door to the library was closed but illumination leaked out from under the door. He paused by the door and listened and heard the deep sound of male voices.

  He could make nothing of it until he bent and put his ear to the keyhole and then he immediately recognized the gravelly voice of Kidder. He could not distinguish the words but he recognized the voice. Another man spoke in lighter tones and Denison knew it was Carey.

  He straightened up and wondered what to do. Lyn had spoken of men in the plural which would mean there were others about besides Kidder. He could cause a disturbance and arouse the house but if Kidder was holding up Carey at gunpoint that might not be good for Carey. He thought he had better find out what was really going on before doing anything drastic. He turned and saw Lyn standing by the staircase and he put his finger to his lips. Then he took hold of the door knob and eased it around very gently.

  The door opened a crack and the voices immediately became clearer. Carey was speaking. '. . . and you ran into trouble again at Sompio?'

  'Jesus!' said Kidder. 'I thought we'd run into the Finnish army but it turned out they were goddamn Czechs -- we wounded one and he was cussing fit to bust. Who the hell would expect to find Czechs in the middle of Finland? Especially carrying automatic rifles and some sort of crazy flame-thrower. That's why I'm bandaged up like this.'

  Carey laughed. That was our crowd.'

  Denison swung the door open half an inch and put his eye to the crack. He saw Carey standing by the safe in the corner but Kidder was not in sight. Carey said, 'It wasn't a flame-thrower -- it was a bloody big shotgun operated by no less than the eminent Dr Meyrick.'

  'Now, there's a slippery guy,' said Kidder.

  'You shouldn't have snatched him from the hotel in Helsinki,' said Carey. 'I thought you trusted me.'

  'I trust nobody,' said Kidder. 'I still wasn't sure you weren't going to cross me up. You were playing your cards close to your chest -- I still didn't know where the papers were. Anyway, I got nothing out of Meyrick; he gave me a lot of bull which I nearly fell for, then he neatly busted my larynx. You breed athletic physicists in Britain, Carey.'

  'He's a remarkable man,' Carey agreed.

  Kidder's voice changed and took on a more incisive quality. 'I reckon that's enough of the light conversation. Where are Merikken's papers?'

  'In the safe.' Carey's voice sharpened. 'And I wish you'd put that gun away.'

  'It's just window dressing in case anyone snoops in,' said Kidder. 'It's for your protection. You wouldn't want it getting around that you're .. . shall we say . . . co-operating with us, would you? What's with you, Carey? When the word came .that you were willing to do a deal no one would believe it. Not such an upright guy like the respected Mr Carey.'

  Carey shrugged. 'I'm coming up to retirement and what have I got? All my life I've lived on a thin edge and my nerves are so tight I've got a flaming big ulcer. I've shot men and I've been shot at; during the war the Gestapo did things to me I don't care to remember. And all for what? When I retire I get a pension that'll do little more than keep me in tobacco and whisky.'

  'Cast away like an old glove,' said Kidder mockingly.

  'You can laugh,' said Carey with asperity. 'But wait until you're my age.'

  'Okay, okay!' said Kidder soothingly. 'I believe you. You're an old guy and you deserve a break. I know your British Treasury is penny-pinching. You should have worked our side of the fence -- do you know what the CIA appropriation is?'

  'Now who is making light conversation?' said Carey acidly. 'But now that we're talking of money you'd better make sure that the sum agreed goes into that Swiss bank account.'

  'You know us,' said Kidder. 'You know we'll play fair -- if you do. Now how about opening that safe?'

  Denison could not believe what he was hearing. All the mental and physical anguish he had suffered was going for nothi
ng because Carey -- Carey, of all people -- was selling out. It would have been unbelievable had he not heard it from Carey's own lip& Selling out to the bloody Americans.

  He considered the situation. From what he had heard there were only the two of them in the library. Carey was where he could be seen, over by the safe. Kidder faced him and had his back to the door -- presumably. It was a good presumption because nobody conducts a lengthy conversation with his back to the person he is talking to. But Kidder had a gun and, window dressing or not, it could still shoot.

  Denison looked around. Lyn was still standing in the same position but he could not ask for her help. He saw a large vase on the hall table, took one step, and scooped it up. When he got back to the door he saw that Carey had opened the safe and was taking out papers and stacking them on top.

  Kidder was saying, '. . . I know we agreed to chase Meyrick and McCready just to make it look good but I didn't expect all those goddamn fireworks. Hell, I might have been killed.' He sounded aggrieved.

  Carey stooped to pull out more papers. 'But you weren't.'

  Denison eased open the door. Kidder was standing with his back to him, a pistol held negligently by his side, and Carey had his head half-way inside the safe. Denison took one quick pace and brought down the vase hard on Kidder's head. It smashed into fragments and Kidder, buckling at the knees, collapsed to the floor.

  Carey was taken by surprise. He jerked his head and cracked it on top of the safe. That gave Denison time to pick up the pistol which had dropped from Kidder's hand. When Carey had recovered he found Denison pointing it at him.

  Denison was breathing heavily. 'You lousy bastard! I didn't go through that little bit of hell just for you to make a monkey of me.'

  Before Carey could say anything McCready skidded into the room at top speed. He saw the gun in Denison's hand and where it was pointing, and came to a sudden halt.