Traitor's Doom (Dr. Palfrey)

by John Creasey

  Palfrey raised one eyebrow a little above the other.

  ‘Well, Debenham, we aren’t going to be idle.’

  ‘I wish this hadn’t started,’ said Brian slowly. ‘I don’t see what we can do while we’re suspect. Or I’m suspect. And I wish,’ he added with feeling, ‘that I could spend five minutes with the man who fired that shot!’

  Palfrey smiled.

  ‘Probably you will, you know. It’s an odd world. But what with Give, this American girl, and the monkey business, we aren’t exactly away to a clear start. I think we’d better put the position to the others, don’t you?’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian slowly. ‘Anyhow, you and Drusilla seem to be all right.’

  ‘So far,’ said Palfrey. ‘Well, I’ll get along. Oh yes—we’re meeting at half-past seven at the Osorio, Drusilla says. Apparently we only have to tell a cabby the name, and he’ll drive us there. You’ll need about half an hour. You won’t take too many chances, will you?’

  ‘Do I look as though I will?’ demanded Brian.

  Palfrey eyed him with a humorously appraising smile.

  ‘If we’re going to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me!’

  Brian was ready for the trip to the Osorio at five minutes past seven. All the time his curiosity about the three men he was going to meet increased, filling him with an inward excitement and expectancy.

  His taxi turned off the main thoroughfares and went along a number of cobbled roads, all narrow and with tall houses on either side. There was a continental ornamentation about the houses, which had none of the stolid severity of London homes, and the stone used was a greyish white. Brian sank back in his seat, knowing that it wanted but five minutes to seven-thirty, and wondering whether he would be late.

  The driver swung round another corner with the vigour of the Paris taxi-drivers of a temporarily past age, and with a squealing of brakes stopped outside a brightly-painted restaurant, where signs read simply: ‘Osorio’ Brian climbed out, paid off his cabby, and walked the length of the road. No one appeared to follow him, and he was reasonably sure that he had not been followed while in the taxi. He hurried back to the restaurant, and gave his name.

  A tiny little man with round, red cheeks bowed and showed him to a private room on the first floor.

  Drusilla, Palfrey, and another man were there.

  Brian regarded the stranger with keen interest, speculating on his identity. He saw a shortish, well-knit man, leathery of face and whippet-like in figure, with bold, very grey eyes. His lips were thin, his chin pointed; it was a face made for a pointed beard and moustache, and Brian guessed ‘Labollier’.

  The man nodded to him, unsmiling.

  ‘Debenham, I guess,’ he said in clear American accents.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Drusilla.

  ‘I’m van Hoysen,’ said the leathery man abruptly. His eyes assessed Brian, making him feel a little ill at ease, but the man’s hand-clasp was quick and firm. I’m glad to know you, Debenham. I guess you look as if you can pack a punch in that fist of yours. And—’ he smiled for the first time, looking at the black eye – ‘take one?’

  Brian chuckled: ‘I’m too big to dodge them all.’

  The door opened to admit two men, one so tall that he had to duck beneath the door, with great shoulders and enormous arms and hands. He dwarfed his companion, who was of medium height. Both were dressed in lounge clothes.

  About the shorter man there was a neatness of dress and appearance which made Brian make another guess at ‘Labollier’. Dark also, with sleek hair and a small waxed moustache, the man had a natural grace of movement which caught the eye at once.

  Brian’s second guess was right, for the man said: ‘Good evening, my friends. I am Labollier, this is Andromovitch, also my good friend.’

  It was impossible not to pay more attention to the Russian than the Frenchman.

  Andromovitch was so vast that he would attract attention wherever he went, and Brian’s first thought was that it was a mistake to have him in a party which needed to avoid attention most of the time. The Russian’s skin was surprisingly clear, almost like a woman’s, an incongruous feature. His hair, cut short, was between colours, thick and wiry. The faintest hint of high cheek-bones and narrow eyes suggested a touch of Mongol blood. He was not good-looking, but his face was open and pleasant, and after a pause while he allowed the others to appraise him he smiled widely to show very white teeth. The smile transformed him, and his voice, pleasant and very deep, helped the transformation.

  ‘Yes, I am Andromovitch, comrades.’ He uttered the ‘comrades’ with an indescribable, almost roguish nuance which made Brian smile widely and Palfrey’s eyes crease at the corners. Drusilla stepped forward, introducing the others. Labollier insisted on bowing low over her hand. Andromovitch watched him with a tolerant, good-humoured smile.

  Brian had the impression that nothing could upset Andromovitch’s bland good-humour and coolness; that Labollier would be as mercurial as the Russian was impassive; and van Hoysen would be less mercurial than restless, a man held on a leash and always anxious to get on with the business. A stranger assortment it would have been hard to find, he reflected as they sat down – Labollier insisting that Drusilla took the head of the table – and a waiter tapped on the door.

  The meal began with no more than idle conversation. No reference to their purpose was made, lest the soft-footed waiter surprised them. It was a period for mutual appraisal, and from time to time one or the other caught one of the company staring at him, to turn quickly, almost guiltily, away. It was Andromovitch who put an end to that, giving his tolerant, almost lazy smile, and saying in his admirable English – the common language, it proved, and the only one they all spoke well:

  ‘Let us be honest. Each of us is curious about the other. In Novgorod, where I was born, there is a custom amongst strangers who meet in hotels and have nothing to do for an evening or a day.’ He shrugged his vast shoulders. ‘Or, if they are caught unprepared in the winter, a week or a month, until they can obtain what is needed. Shall we indulge in the custom?’

  ‘What is it?’ Labollier asked quickly, almost sharply.

  ‘A simple one, comrade. Each stranger tells the other as much as he wishes to of his life. Each competes to make his life seem the stranger or the more heroic, but we need not do that.’ He smiled at each in turn, finishing with Drusilla. ‘Mam’selle Blairwill start, perhaps? We will not expect too much!’

  There was a general laugh.

  The ‘custom’ worked well, breaking what restraint there had been. Each omitted any reference to life since the beginning of the war, each kept his story short, Labollier taking longer than any of them. He had been a traveller in the wines of Provence – he winked broadly at that – and had travelled throughout Europe. He talked a great deal of what he had seen in Germany before the cloak was torn from Hitler’s face and the truth was known. He had a natural raconteur’s manner, and brought many laughs.

  Drusilla talked of the stage, Palfrey of the laboratory and his student days, van Hoysen of the early stages of the activities of the G-men with whom he had worked. Drusilla was flippant, Palfrey whimsical, van Hoysen downright and factual. After the American had finished, Andromovitch glanced at Brian.

  ‘To whom the honour of being last, comrade?’

  ‘If it’s me, it will be an anti-climax,’ said Brian.

  ‘You will, of course, be modest.’

  Brian chuckled. ‘School and cricket. University and cricket. Politics, at which I was not a success—no member of my family could be a successful socialist!’ He shrugged. ‘I travelled Europe fairly well, but always managed to get to England to play some cricket.’

  Andromovitch’s eyes brimmed over with amusement.

  ‘What an admission, comrade! Had Labollier lived a hundred years ago he would have cried: “A bas l’aristocrat!”’

  Andromovitch took his glass, dwarfing it in his big fingers. ‘But of my life. I began this game, and
so must finish it. My life is a simple one, comrades. I was born five years before the Revolution, and in my town saw little of it. I was considered well-educated and turned to what is called diplomacy; so I went from country to country, and found the other diplomats cold towards me and my friends. But I watched them, and smiled at them, and thought that the day would come when they would admit that even a Russian communist was a man. The day has come. This is a meeting of representatives from four countries bound together in an undertaking to rescue men of other countries, any countries, who can afterwards help to remake the world. We may give birth to some of the future among us, comrades—or, if you prefer it, mam’selle et messieurs.’

  Brian, watching him, hearing his deep, even voice, thought of the Marquis, of similar words issuing from his lips, reflections of the same ideas. He felt a glow of understanding, of appreciation, and felt how right the Marquis had been to make the party cosmopolitan.

  Palfrey broke the ensuing silence.

  ‘Good, Stefan!’ It was the first time a Christian name had been used in the room, and it startled Brian. ‘We will drink, to the custom of the old folk in Novgorod, and the customs of the future, knowing that if we have no luck, others will.’

  They stood up, chairs scraping on polished boards, and drank. Looking about him, Brian saw a fresh light in the eyes of all of them; no better way could have been conceived of obtaining the unity the Marquis had stressed as essential.

  They sat down, and Andromovitch stepped to the door and locked it.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘There is a question of instructions.’

  Palfrey was the first to take a red-dotted cartridge from his pocket. The others followed suit. The noses were screwed off, and from the cartridges each pulled a tightly rolled piece of thin paper. There was a rustling sound as the papers were unrolled and flattened on the table.

  Then all of them looked up, undecided.

  ‘We need a master of ceremonies,’ Labollier said. ‘Mam’selle—’

  ‘No, not I,’ said Drusilla quickly.

  ‘I suggest Dr. Palfrey,’ said Andromovitch, ‘who has the manner of a board-room more than anyone else.’

  ‘Palfrey, I guess,’ contributed van Hoysen.

  ‘I was about to suggest it,’ said Labollier, ‘since Mam’selle refuses.’ He bowed, smiling at Drusilla, who said: ‘Sap, you’re for it.’

  ‘No dissentients,’ put in Brian quickly.

  Palfrey glanced about him, suddenly diffident. For a moment he hesitated, then smiled with some apparent embarrassment, cleared his throat and said: ‘That’s very kindly of you, and I won’t make difficulties.’ He looked at the slip of paper in front of him and added: ‘On the top of my instructions there is a note saying that the papers must be put together, in numerical order—and mine is marked 1—for us to obtain the names, and the places of internment, of those for whom we search. Then another note—probably you all have the same—saying that there are no instructions, only good wishes and godspeed; we must manage as best we can. Drusilla, it says, will know the names of at least one person in every town where we are likely to find ourselves who will be able to help in emergency.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’ve learned your lines well, Drusilla!’

  There was a general laugh.

  ‘I know the names and addresses,’ Drusilla said. ‘But there is a general rule that will be useful if any of you are caught out and need assistance. At every main railway-station there will be telephone directories with a number of red dots between the exchange name and the number itself. By telephoning the numbers and saying, “I found your name in the directory”, you will always get help.’

  ‘I think we always realise that recourse to anyone but ourselves will only be made in emergency,’ put in Palfrey, looking about him. He cleared his throat again, put the paper down, and rested his fingers on the table, pressing on them until they looked very white.

  ‘Another thing. Some of us are responsible, when we are separated, to different individuals. Most of you will know of the Marquis, who I believe conceived this idea, and but for whom we would not be sitting here. But the Marquis is a long way off, and so are the others with whom we would like to make contact. In practice, therefore, we have no leader and we are responsible to ourselves. Over a period, one of us will probably prove himself more able than any others to direct operations, but if anyone is so chosen it must be unanimous. So I suggest that for, say, one week at a time, trial be given to one of us who shall be decided by lot, and who will co-ordinate all our activities.’

  ‘We have a chairman,’ murmured Andromovitch.

  ‘You can count me out,’ said van Hoysen. ‘Just get an eyeful of me telling Andromovitch what to do!’

  Another general chuckle preceded an equally general request for Palfrey to undertake temporary leadership. Palfrey smiled when the last word was spoken and shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Well, you’ve decided it yourselves. Before we can start we have to face a situation unexpected, and to three of you probably an unpleasant surprise. Brian’ – he looked at Debenham, who realised that he was deliberately breaking down the stiffness of formal address, and was amazed at the revelation of the qualities Palfrey was showing – ‘has been victimised, both here and in England.’

  ‘Victimised—how?’ grunted van Hoysen.

  Palfrey told the story simply, very comprehensively.

  Andromovitch’s smile disappeared, van Hoysen stared narrow-eyed at Palfrey, and Labollier’s set face showed increasing perturbation. When Palfrey had finished there was a silence, which the Russian broke softly.

  ‘So we have a problem to solve here in Orlanto.’

  ‘Until we know who it is, we cannot start,’ said Labollier energetically. ‘It is a severe blow.’

  ‘Sure, it’s bad,’ agreed van Hoysen. ‘I guess the monkey didn’t like your hair, Debenham!’ The American lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the fireplace. ‘Who’s got ideas?’

  ‘Word may be brought from the man who followed the musician,’ said Labollier. ‘We must wait until then.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Brian. He pushed his chair back a little, looking first at Palfrey and then at the others. His cheeks were flushed, but his voice was even enough. ‘It’s obvious that they’ve drawn a bow at me, and the arrow’s stuck. They don’t know anything about the rest of you. You can start tomorrow without me. I’ll stay in Orlanto and see what happens; there’s no need to delay anything because of me.’

  Chapter Eight

  Dr. Palfrey Gives Good Advice

  ‘There is one thing which should not be forgotten,’ said Andromovitch. ‘It concerns the escape of the unknown man. He came from Germany, according to Hermandes—that is the name?’ He waited for Palfrey’s nod, and then went on: ‘It is possible that those who enabled him to escape from his prison will be able to help us. Much can be done in Orlanto. Then there is this Clive, who helped the unknown man to have attention from the doctor. His motives do not appear to be hostile towards us.’

  ‘Well, there’s something in that,’ said van Hoysen laconically.

  ‘So I am going to suggest that three of us stay here, to find out what we can,’ said Andromovitch. ‘I would like to be one of those who stays. Drusilla Blair, that would give you the company of Labollier and van Hoysen for perhaps a week.’

  Drusilla nodded, but said nothing.

  They decided, after a little discussion, to adopt the suggestion and split into two parties. Then the papers were put together, and for the first time they saw the names of the men they were to search for; in all cases the latest-known concentration camp was mentioned – nine in Germany and three in Italy. They pored over them, saying little, Brian as intrigued and interested as the others. Finally Palfrey drew a deep breath and said: ‘The nearest man is Horst, the Austrian, interned near Genoa.’ He paused. ‘Shall we start on what seems the easiest?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Labollier quickly.

  ‘Sure, it will pep us up,’ said va
n Hoysen.

  The others nodded, and Palfrey sat back in his chair, took out his pipe, and then said: ‘So tomorrow three people from Catania, three people apparently Catanese, will leave for Genoa, or somewhere near the town. Drusilla will help in whatever make-up is needed. The rest of us will remain until we can leave also. From Genoa you will make what plans can be made, and if we are not with you within, say, ten days, you will go ahead. Is that all right?’

  They agreed, and then went more deeply into ways and means. The atmosphere grew thick with smoke; three times the waiter was called to bring wine – whisky for van Hoysen; and unanimity of view was attained without much dissension.

  Brian found himself a little out of the discussion, uncertain whether he would be continuing; he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made the only suggestion possible, but rebelled at the idea that the mysterious assaults would keep him back.

  They left the Osorio just after midnight.

  The next morning Brian had a slight headache and consequently stayed in his room. At five minutes to ten, when he was telling himself that if Palfrey did not call him soon, he would call Palfrey, the communicating door opened.

  ‘Hallo, hallo,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Phew!’ gasped Brian. ‘I thought that suite was empty!’

  ‘I’ve arranged to take it over,’ said Palfrey, closing and locking the door behind him. ‘I asked for a first-floor room, and as Drusilla left earlier, hers was vacant. Andromovitch is here, too.’ He smiled a little diffidently, and put his head to one side. ‘Feeling a bit blue, Brian?’

  Brian shrugged.

  ‘I’m not a hundred per cent, no.’

  ‘You’re like van Hoysen, spoiling for action,’ said Palfrey with the pleasantest of smiles. ‘And I think we’ve got some for you. The man Drusilla sent after the monkey last night has just reported.’

  ‘The deuce he has!’ Brian’s eyes brightened. ‘Any luck?’