Shadow of Doom

by John Creasey

  ‘Nonsense!’ snapped de Morency.

  ‘You’re not at your best,’ said Palfrey. ‘They might feel it wise. If they upset Dias they might upset his Government and so lose a lot of food. Dias would be able to blackmail them, if it came to that. “Do it my way, or I will sell to a country where I can get a big rake-off.”’

  ‘I do not believe that it could be done successfully,’ said de Morency, still sceptical.

  ‘I am prepared to believe almost anything of Dias,’ said Palfrey. ‘A cable or two to Dias’s home town will probably be enough to check that he is an official agent.’

  ‘You need not trouble,’ said de Morency, ‘there is no doubt about it.’

  ‘All right,’ said Palfrey. ‘According to Laander, he is selling food in return for rubber.’

  ‘With which to erase oneself,’ said de Morency, scornfully. ‘I think it is an excellent article.’

  Palfrey laughed and looked at Charles.

  ‘Here were have the mercurial Frenchman! In five minutes, he will probably be falling on my neck and telling me what a wonderful man I am. Don’t let it worry you too much, Raoul. We got off on the wrong foot, but we’ve often done that before. Nor can we blame ourselves—no one took particular pains to help us.’

  ‘It has perhaps passed the attention of Dr. Palfrey that we are looking for radium,’ said de Morency. ‘Also, that we equipped ourselves for a great expedition, we expected to be digging all over Germany, and—and—’

  ‘Digging may come later,’ said Palfrey. ‘We prepared against all emergencies, that’s all.’

  ‘All! Sap, when are we going to start the work we came here to do?’

  ‘We’ve started all right,’ said Palfrey. ‘I can’t wave a magic wand and say abracadabra and conjure the leaden containers out of the air. When we’ve got to the bottom of Dias’s activities we won’t be so far from the radium. I know one thing we want before we can go much further.’

  ‘What?’ asked de Morency, sourly.

  ‘A report on Dias’s travels in the last weeks of the war,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Oh, something quite easy,’ said de Morency, and unexpectedly he laughed. ‘I am sorry, Sap. It is this country. The pain they feel is so deep that it hurts even me, and I thought I had been hurt badly enough in France.’

  From the hall a young girl came hurrying, shiny of face and wearing a white overall which was darned and patched until little of the original material seemed left. She smiled at de Morency, who had a way of making girls smile at him, and said ‘Telephone’ in Dutch. De Morency hurried out, was gone for five minutes, and then returned in some excitement.

  ‘Have you got something?’ asked Charles, eagerly.

  ‘I have some information,’ said de Morency. ‘Sap, that was Neil; he says that Lozana is at the Maas Hotel with—’

  ‘Go on!’ cried Charles.

  ‘I am giving Sap a chance to redeem himself,’ said de Morency. ‘Would you care to guess, Dr. Palfrey?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Palfrey. ‘William K. Bane or Josh Anderson.’

  De Morency’s face fell ludicrously. ‘Quel diable!’

  ‘Interesting and not unexpected,’ said Palfrey. ‘You know, we’ve started from the wrong end, it’s time we found out what their purpose is in Europe. Pay no attention to Raoul, Charles, and don’t worry if he gets apoplexy, that is quite normal with him! We’ll be at the British Consulate,’ he said as he went out.

  Charles walked briskly by Palfrey’s side towards a big hotel, one of the few which had remained practically undamaged.

  Outside they saw Erikson, talking with some vivacity to a uniformed policeman. He did not make any signal to Palfrey, so presumably he had nothing to report. There was no sign of Bruton.

  They were in the main hall, and Palfrey was approaching the desk, for he wanted to make this a formal visit, when he heard Charles speak in a low-pitched voice: ‘Sap!’

  ‘Hallo,’ said Palfrey, half turning.

  ‘There’s a goatee in there talking to Muriel,’ said Charles.

  The full significance of his words did not at first sink in. Palfrey was too intent on studying Charles’s face. Charles had received a shock, a deeper shock than the name ‘Muriel’ should have given him. He was pale, too, and he stared as if he could not keep his eyes off the couple he had seen.

  ‘That decent kid I told you about in London!’ he snapped, when Palfrey did not answer immediately. ‘The nurse—but for her I would probably have given the whole game away. She’s talking to a man with a grey goatee beard.’

  ‘So she is,’ said Palfrey, and looked at the couple. ‘What are you trying to do—mesmerise them?’

  ‘Er—sorry,’ said Charles, turning his head quickly.

  ‘The grey goatee belongs to no less a person than William K. Bane,’ said Palfrey, ‘and that’s an interesting coincidence, isn’t it? I—Great Scott, man, now what’s the matter?’

  For Charles, looking in another direction, gaped as if he had received an even greater shock. Palfrey followed the direction of his gaze.

  Walking down the last flight of stairs was a tall, thick-set man who looked familiar, and yet Palfrey could not place him. Charles took a hesitant step forward, and then the newcomer saw him and his face lit up. He and Charles moved towards each other, hands outstretched.

  ‘Well, well, well!’ cried Charles, in a more natural voice. ‘What the devil are you doing here, Matt?’ He pumped the other man’s arm, then turned and beckoned Palfrey. ‘Sap, this—you’ll never believe it—is my brother Matthew!’

  ‘How are you, Dr. Palfrey?’ asked Matthew Lumsden. He smiled – a rather superficial, supercilious smile, Palfrey thought. He judged Matthew Lumsden to be a dry stick, an earnest young man, who probably often felt resentful towards his younger brother, a prodigal now the apple of his father’s eye.

  ‘Nicely, thanks,’ murmured Palfrey.

  ‘What are you doing in Rotterdam?’ demanded Charles, afresh.

  ‘I’m on business,’ said Matthew. ‘Sorry, Charles, I mustn’t stop now, I’m due at a conference.’ Matthew looked the type of man to whom business conferences were the substance of life. ‘You’ll be here tonight, I hope?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charles.

  ‘That’s fine, that’s fine, old man—cocktails, here, at half past six. I must rush now. See you later, old chap! Perhaps you can also make it, Dr. Palfrey?’ Matthew did not seem particularly anxious, he probably regarded Palfrey with suspicion, as Palfrey was not big business. ‘Good-bye.’

  He hurried off.

  ‘Now that is a coincidence,’ said Charles. ‘I’d no idea he was out of London. He used to travel a lot before the war, of course—he’s the Old Man’s right-hand man. Not like prodigal Charles! Er—I hope that hasn’t spoiled anything for you, Sap. I mean, caused a delay.’

  ‘Muriel and the goatee are still talking,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Ah, yes.’

  The encounter with his brother had lifted Charles out of himself; but the effect did not last for long. Palfrey was still puzzled by the younger man’s reaction. Charles knew, of course, that he had been far too greatly affected by Muriel, and had tried to cover it up, but he did not wholly succeed. He was on tenterhooks, and he hesitated for a long time before he spoke.

  Bane and Muriel seemed absorbed in each other.

  Chapter Eighteen

  William K. Bane

  ‘I suppose I’d better not let her see me,’ said Charles.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Palfrey. ‘All these people know you’re in Rotterdam by now.’

  ‘But Muriel—’

  ‘Don’t worry too much about Muriel,’ said Palfrey; ‘I thought you said she was under their domination.’ He wanted no championship from Charles at that juncture. ‘Hop outside and tell Er
ikson, will you, and make sure he sees Muriel for future reference.’

  ‘And then?’ asked Charles.

  ‘Saunter in,’ said Palfrey, ‘but if I’m in deep conference with William K. Bane, leave me for a while. You look after Muriel,’ he added, and Charles went off, glad there was something he could do.

  Palfrey did not, after all, send in his name.

  He walked into the large lounge, the door of which was standing open. It was curiously bare-looking, and there was no carpet on the floors. The Maas Hotel had suffered badly from German looting. But there were comfortable chairs, and in one of these Muriel was sitting, cross-legged, attractive in her demure fashion. She glanced curiously at Palfrey, while Bane continued to talk to her in an undertone. It looked very much as if Bane were smitten by the girl.

  Bane was toying with his gold watch-chain, which had two loops on either side of the buttonhole through which it was threaded. He wore light-grey tweeds, and even sitting down he looked exceptionally tall and remarkably bony. His kneecaps poked against his trousers, there was little flesh at the back of his hands, and his cheeks were sunken. It gave him something of the appearance of a skeleton, if there could be such a thing as a handsome skeleton; for William K. Bane was undoubtedly good-looking. His goatee beard was a silky brownish-grey, and his hair waved back with affected carelessness.

  ‘And like I was saying, honey,’ he said, ‘you don’t want to waste your time on a guy like that—no, ma’am, you just don’t want to waste your time. See here, now, this is the way I see your position.’ He went on talking, but lowered his voice, for Palfrey chose to stand near, with his back towards them, as if looking for friends.

  Then Palfrey turned. Bane looked up at him in annoyance, yet Palfrey felt quite sure that both the man and the girl knew who he was.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Palfrey, apologetically, ‘but I wonder if you happen to know whether Mr. William K. Bane is in the lounge?’

  Bane said: ‘Sure. Right here.’

  ‘Here?’ echoed Palfrey, as if surprised.

  ‘I’m Bane,’ said Bane. ‘I don’t recall your face.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Palfrey, ‘no, you wouldn’t.’ Uninvited, he took a chair facing them, then seemed to remember himself, bobbed up and bowed to Muriel, and sat down again. ‘I’m Palfrey,’ he said, ‘a friend of a friend, I think.’

  ‘Is that so?’ drawled Bane. ‘Who is this mutual friend?’

  ‘His Excellency Señor Fernandez y Dias,’ murmured Palfrey.

  ‘You a friend of Dias?’ asked Bane, with no great interest. ‘All right, son, what is it you want?’

  If he did know Palfrey, he was acting well. The muscles of his cheeks moved as he spoke but his lips did not seem to part. He kept fingering his watch-chain, and looked as if he would be glad when Palfrey had taken his departure.

  ‘The pleasure of meeting you,’ said Palfrey.

  That startled Bane, but he looked sceptical. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘That is so,’ said Palfrey, and glanced at Muriel. ‘I have heard a great deal about you, Mr. Bane, a very great deal.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re not disappointed,’ said Bane. ‘And if you don’t mind, Mr. Palfrey, I’m busy right now. I give interviews between nine and nine-thirty, come and see me one morning.’

  He nodded dismissal.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I’ve overstayed my welcome. Sorry.’ He stood up, looking at Bane’s watch-chain. He did so because the man was always toying with it, he had not let it rest all the time they had been talking. Now he pulled one end from the pocket. From it dangled an old-fashioned, silver match-case, several medals and something which shone black. Palfrey tried to look away quickly, but Bane seemed to sense what he had seen, and covered the shiny black thing with a broad thumb. ‘I’ll see you later, Mr. Bane. My regards to Josh Anderson.’

  He turned away.

  Bane was on his feet in a single movement, and he shot out a hand and grabbed Palfrey’s shoulder, swinging him round again. He was almost livid with anger, and the girl looked genuinely startled. ‘What in hell do you mean by that?’ snapped Bane.

  ‘My dear sir,’ protested Palfrey, wriggling beneath the other’s grip, ‘regards to a friend, no more than that. You are a friend of Josh Anderson’s aren’t you?’

  ‘Now listen to me, Palfrey, I won’t stand for insolence.’ The pressure of Bane’s fingers increased, and he stood an inch or more higher than Palfrey, his grey eyes very hard. ‘You had some special reason for talking about Anderson.’

  ‘I have a special reason for everything I do, including seeing you,’ murmured Palfrey. ‘Do you mind?’ He put his hand to Bane’s wrist and gripped. Bane gasped and his grip relaxed. ‘Thanks,’ said Palfrey, and then raised his voice: ‘Charles!’

  Charles, near at hand, swung round and strode towards them. Other people were watching them, but most of them incuriously; they had learned bitterly the lesson of taking notice of what other people did.

  ‘Charles,’ said Palfrey, while Bane started at him angrily, doubtless still feeling the pain in his wrist and forearm, ‘have you ever seen this before?’

  With a sudden movement he whipped out Bane’s watch-chain and selected the shiny black thing from among the dangling oddments. It was a miniature mask, hideous and grotesque, the face of a man without eyes.

  ‘Great Scott!’ gasped Charles. ‘Why, that’s—’

  ‘Enough!’ said Palfrey. He took Charles’s arm and turned before a startled Bane could do anything to stop him. He hustled Charles out of the lounge, but did not immediately leave the hotel. Instead he looked through the open doorway, seeing Bane staring towards him, the girl resting a hand on the American’s arm.

  ‘Sap,’ breathed Charles, ‘do you know what that was?’

  ‘Your black mask in miniature,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Yes. I—what the devil was he doing with it?’

  ‘He would doubtless tell us that it was a curio, a good-luck charm or an heirloom,’ said Palfrey, ‘and who is to say him nay? Not I,’ declared Palfrey, and they hurried towards the street together. ‘Muriel didn’t appear to recognise you, Charles.’

  ‘Well, that isn’t surprising,’ said Charles. ‘I was a pretty fine mess when she saw me; I’m not really back to normal yet, you know. What did you do to the old boy to make him flare up like that?’

  ‘I asked him to give my love to Josh Anderson,’ said Palfrey, ‘and that’s a very curious thing. But I think we’ll spoil the effect if we go and see Josh now.’

  They turned towards the Maas Bridge, which was just ahead of them, still undergoing repairs, but they had not gone ten yards before they heard running footsteps behind them. They turned – and Bane was on them, a wild figure, gaunt and angry. He was running too fast to stop without banging into Palfrey, who withstood the onslaught with only a grunt.

  ‘Give it me!’ gasped Bane.

  ‘Give you what?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘That lucky charm!’

  ‘Lucky charm?’ said Palfrey. ‘Oh, the little black thing. Ugly piece, wasn’t it? Have you lost it?’

  ‘You know darned well you’ve got it,’ said Bane, trying to speak with dignity, conscious now of the incurious gaze of many passers-by and the interest of a uniformed policeman. ‘Hand it over, Palfrey.’

  ‘I assure you—’ began Palfrey.

  ‘Hand it over!’ cried Bane, and drew back his hand as if to strike Palfrey, who stood quite still and looked at him as if bewildered by this show of violence. Bane’s arm dropped. ‘Palfrey, if you don’t give back that charm, I’ll have you put in the lock-up.’

  ‘But how vindictive!’ said Palfrey, pained. ‘I haven’t got it. Have you looked under the chairs?’

  ‘Palfrey—’

  ‘Try not to act the fool,’ said Palfrey, s
harply.

  He turned. Bane shot out a restraining hand, but Palfrey struck his wrist away and, before Charles realised what he was doing, slipped into the road. He threaded his way among streams of cyclists, hand-carts, dog-carts and a few petrol-driven vans and cars. Charles plunged after him. A cyclist jammed on his brakes and only just saved himself from falling. William K. Bane plunged after Charles, but crashed into a dog-cart, slipped and fell. The uniformed policeman hurried towards him, while Palfrey and Charles took the first turning out of the High Street and found themselves among a desolation of bombed-out buildings, with a few wooden huts built here and there.

  ‘You certainly put a move on,’ said Charles. ‘Have you got it?’

  ‘Of course I’ve got it,’ said Palfrey.

  They walked for half an hour, Palfrey limping more with every minute, until at last they reached the Consulate.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Charles.

  ‘A car,’ said Palfrey.

  There in the courtyard was an old Mercedes-Benz. De Morency had worked his miracle. By the car stood a chauffeur, who offered his services. Palfrey thanked the chauffeur and said that he would prefer to drive himself.

  He drove at once to Bane’s hotel, the green Mercedes-Benz attracting much attention, and found Erikson on the edge of a crowd about the entrance to the hotel.

  Palfrey pulled up behind Erikson.

  ‘A sensation?’ he asked.

  ‘Some sensation!’ Erikson said. ‘The person of William K. Bane was assaulted by three policemen, because when they picked him out of the road and wouldn’t let him follow you he went berserk—I guess I’ve never seen a man go quite so crazy. They had to carry him in.’

  ‘Did anyone go with him?’

  ‘A cute little dame,’ said Erikson.

  ‘Muriel!’ exclaimed Charles.

  ‘Doesn’t he get to know them fast?’ said Erikson, mockingly. ‘What did you do to him, Sap?’

  ‘I haven’t yet worked it out,’ said Palfrey. ‘Hop in.’ As Erikson was getting into the back of the car, he added: ‘Where’s Corny?’