Hill commenced at once on his task, Shannon standing by very much on the alert. No resistance was attempted, the four appearing to be thoroughly cowed. Plasiras alone showed any vestige of spirit. As he was being searched, he regarded Hill’s bandages with a mocking look in his eyes.
‘So!’ he sneered. ‘The Austrian art student has been playing with fire, it seems, and has burnt his fingers.’
‘Be quiet, Mr Dictator!’ returned Hill. ‘As a certain royal lady would have said, “We are not amused”.’
The four certainly had been well armed. Six revolvers, with ammunition, and three knives were taken from them. Sir Leonard had sent Tempest to the British ambassador with a message to the effect that the diplomat could now act at once, giving the address at which the men were being held captive. Tempest also had instructions to visit Thalia, and advise her to ring up the Greek embassy, if she could; otherwise to give him a note telling her people to act immediately on her report. On his return, the manager of Lalére et Cie was to bring back General Radoloff.
‘As far as I know,’ remarked Wallace, when the conspirators had been disarmed, ‘there remain only two unaccounted for. Kyprianos is dead, Baltazzi is in hospital. It will not be difficult to lay Bruno by the heels. What has happened to Doreff?’ he demanded of Plasiras.
The Greek shrugged his shoulders.
‘I do not know,’ he replied sullenly. ‘He has, I suppose, run away.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter much about him. He will never dare to show his face again, if he does escape.’
It may as well be mentioned in passing that Monsieur Doreff was arrested a few days later in Brindisi, whilst attempting to escape from Italy.
Sir Leonard put a few other questions to the captives, which they refused to answer. He found out, however, rather to his relief, that Madame Bikelas had, as he expected, already been sent to a place of safety. He went on a tour of inspection, during which he came upon a good deal of evidence against the men who had conspired together to obtain power by means so diabolical. This he placed ready for the Italian authorities. It was while he was away that Michalis made a desperate bid for freedom. Now that the captives were unarmed, Shannon had put away his own revolver, knowing quite well that he could quickly draw it again if necessary, though confident that he could deal with any trouble that might arise without having recourse to a weapon. Lulled into the belief that the two Englishmen were off their guard – he can hardly have made a bigger mistake in his life – Michalis suddenly made a dash for the door. He did not reach it. An enormous hand grabbed him round the neck, another caught hold of his leg, and he was flung back across the room on top of the other three, who were about to follow him. They all went to the floor together.
‘Don’t be obstreperous, little man!’ growled Shannon, wiping his hands as though they had touched something unclean.
Hill glanced at the four men lying on the floor, apparently too surprised at the moment to rise; then looked reprovingly at his companion.
‘For goodness’ sake, Hugh,’ he begged, ‘do give a little thought to those wounds of yours. They’ll never heal, if you persist in throwing – er – things about like that.’
There was no further attempt on the part of the prisoners to be ‘obstreperous’. If they had not known it before, they knew now that their chances of escape from that room were nil. Weaponless, the four of them were no match for the herculean Englishman, who threw grown men about as though they were dolls. They sat sullenly together thereafter, making no attempt to address remarks either to their captors or to each other. To judge from the expressions on their faces their thoughts were gloomy indeed. Nearly an hour went by before Tempest returned. He did not enter the bungalow, but contented himself with calling for the chief. Sir Leonard went to him; was informed that the ambassador had risen promptly from bed on receiving the message. He had gone round at once to see the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Tempest being kept waiting for his return at the embassy. Early as the hour was, the Italian minister had received his visitor and, on hearing what he had to say, called up the Minister of Justice. The result of the consultation was that the matter was immediately taken in hand. A force of police was already on its way. Thalia Ictinos had promptly telephoned the Greek ambassador from the house in which she was resting. She sent a message of congratulation that the affair had been brought to a successful termination. Tempest concluded by informing Sir Leonard that Radoloff was in the car outside. He and Merryweather brought him in blindfolded and with his hands tied behind him. He was thrust by Wallace into the room where his confederates were incarcerated, demanding indignantly to know who dared lay hands on him; threatening all kinds of pains and penalties to those who had treated him – an important Bulgarian officer – with such violence.
‘That reminds me,’ observed Sir Leonard. ‘I must tell the embassy to explain to the representatives of Bulgaria.’
The handkerchief was removed from the general’s eyes by Shannon. Another torrent of invective suddenly ceased as he observed his companions in misfortune. Realisation of the truth dawned on him, and he grew as white and dismayed as they. Bikelas, who was nearest to him, began to whisper to him, and, as the Greek spoke, the Bulgarian’s face became more and more haggard. There were no further threats or indignant remonstrances from him.
Tempest and his assistant departed, followed shortly afterwards by Shannon and Hill, whom Sir Leonard did not wish the authorities to meet. They were instructed to remain within calling until the police arrived. Armed with a revolver, the chief stood on guard himself. The prisoners grew a little hopeful when they were left alone with a man leaning so nonchalantly against the door, his left hand pushed into his jacket pocket, but the hope was soon killed. Plasiras rose to his feet; stood measuring the other with his eyes.
‘Sit down!’ commanded Wallace. Plasiras continued to stand, whereupon, without another word, the Englishman fired twice in rapid succession, putting a bullet through each sleeve of the Greek’s coat, but not harming him. ‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ remarked Sir Leonard, as the other sat hastily down. ‘If you move again, I won’t be so kind.’
Shannon’s and Hill’s faces appeared at the window; grinned appreciatively as they saw Plasiras shakily examining the holes in his sleeves, and disappeared again. At last came the sound of several cars drawing up outside, the noise of many men gathering, sharp words of command. Into the room presently stalked a high officer of the police, followed by several subordinates. He glanced curiously at the prisoners; turned to Sir Leonard, and saluted him.
‘I was told, signor,’ he remarked in excellent English, ‘that here I should meet Colonel Wallace of the British Diplomatic Service.’
‘I am he,’ returned Sir Leonard, putting away his revolver, and handing the other a card.
The newcomer took it with a bow, read it, and again saluted.
‘I am honoured, signor,’ he declared. ‘My name is Pirelli. These are the prisoners?’
‘They are. You will find any amount of evidence against them in this house; the rest will be provided by the British and Greek ambassadors. There is another man lying dead in a burnt-out car, which is already in the possession of the police. Two – a man called Doreff, who is a Bulgarian, and Bruno, who is a compatriot of yours, are still at liberty.’
The officer smiled.
‘Bruno has been already caught,’ he announced. ‘We know him by sight. He passed us in a car near the Porta Pinciana, was recognised, and chased by some of my men. He is by now in custody.’
‘Excellent,’ murmured Sir Leonard. ‘Then I will leave you to take charge. I shall be at the British embassy, when you require me.’
They shook hands, and Sir Leonard departed. Shannon and Hill joined him a short distance away, and they walked together to the house where Thalia awaited them, passing the burnt-out block of flats as they went. The fire had by that time been extinguished, though it still smouldered in places. The great house had been completely gutted, nothing but
a mere shell remaining, in which enormous gaps enabled observers to get a comprehensive view of the now piteous interior. The three Englishmen approached the heap of twisted metal that had once represented a motor car. A piece of the framework, a hinge, some broken glass were all that was left of the case and phials containing the deadly cultures. The virus, with its creator, had been destroyed completely. The world was safe from a disease that might have annihilated humanity.
Thalia welcomed them with a glad little cry. Hill went straight to her and, bending over, kissed her without a trace of embarrassment. Sir Leonard and Shannon smiled at each other, and were about to leave the room again, but she bade them stop.
‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘Would you desert me, my wonderful friends, before I have congratulated you on your so great achievement? Mr Tempest told me all that which had happened, and I am so happy. It is now all over?’
‘Yes, Thalia, it is all over,’ replied Sir Leonard. ‘And a great deal of the success is due to you. I will take care that the Greek government is made aware of what it owes to its most gallant daughter.’
The colour rose slowly to her cheeks, her glorious eyes sparkled gladly.
‘Again you are too much good to me,’ she murmured. ‘It is little that I have done. Those others, the poor secretaries, died, while I was lucky to have so much protection – without it I would have also died.’
‘They were in the same service as you?’ asked Shannon.
‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘They were bribed to find out what they could about their employers. They did not know me, but I knew about them. Part of my duty was to watch them to see that they did not do the – oh, what is it – the word I want?’
‘The dirty,’ hazarded Shannon.
‘No, no – ah! I have got it: I was to watch that they did not do the double-cross.’ Shannon smiled significantly at Hill, who flushed painfully and lowered his eyes. Thalia looked from one to the other. ‘What is it, my Raymond?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Why do you look so?’
‘For a little while I doubted, Thalia,’ he confessed. ‘Words spoken by the secretary, when he was dying, shook my faith – a little. Shannon quickly showed me what a fool and a rotter I was. I – I’m terribly sorry, dear.’
She put her fingers gently on his lips.
‘There is nothing for which to be sorry,’ she declared softly. ‘It is a great wonder to me any of you ever found the faith in me.’
‘It would be a sign that we were lunatics if we had not,’ retorted Sir Leonard. ‘And now I want to beg a favour.’
‘Oh!’ she cried, ‘I will gladly grant it, if I can. What is it?’
‘I want to give you away at your wedding. May I?’
‘And I’ll jolly well insist on being best man,’ vowed Shannon.
She gave the bandaged hand to Wallace, the other to Shannon; smiled gloriously, happily at them, though tears were in her eyes.
‘You dear men, I shall love it. When that day comes, I shall feel that I am cleansed from all taint of the name Ictinos, for it will belong to me no more.’
‘No,’ breathed her lover, ‘but there can be no taint on a name that you have glorified.’
He and she forgot their companions, as he took her into his arms. Sir Leonard Wallace and Captain Hugh Shannon quietly left the room.
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ALSO IN THE SERIES
THE MYSTERY OF TUNNEL 51
THE DEVIL’S COCKTAIL
WALLACE OF THE SECRET SERVICE
About the Author
ALEXANDER WILSON was a writer, spy and secret service officer. He served in the First World War before moving to India to teach as a Professor of English Literature and eventually became Principal of Islamia College at the University of Punjab in Lahore. He began writing spy novels whilst in India and he enjoyed great success in the 1930s with reviews in the Telegraph, Observer and the Times Literary Supplement amongst others. Wilson also worked as an intelligence agent and his characters are based on his own fascinating and largely unknown career in the Secret Intelligence Service. He passed away in 1963.
By Alexander Wilson
The Mystery of Tunnel 51
The Devil’s Cocktail
Wallace of the Secret Service
Get Wallace!
His Excellency, Governor Wallace
Microbes of Power
Wallace at Bay
Wallace Intervenes
Chronicles of the Secret Service
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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London W1T 6DW
allisonandbusby.com
First published in 1937.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2015.
Copyright © 1936 by THE ALEXANDER WILSON ESTATE
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-7490-1875-7
Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 32