The Windsor Protocol

by Peter MacAlan

  Magda uttered a foul word and flounced from the kitchen.

  Maria muttered something to her husband in Italian and they laughed together.

  Behind the door, Conroy heard the guard with the Schmeisser moving along the corridor. A moment later he entered the kitchen.

  “Everything okay, Mister Soriano?”

  “Va bene, si. Any word from Sneque?”

  The man shook his head.

  “No. The ’phone is still out at New Bight. One of the boys said he thought he heard some explosions from over that way. I said I thought that Sneque was laying on some entertainment tonight. You know, all that voodoo crap.”

  Soriano nodded.

  “Yeah. A little diversionary entertainment. Still, Sneque should have checked in, Salvatore. Tell the boys to keep a sharp watch, just in case. Is the motor boat ready to receive our guest? He should be here any moment.”

  “Yeah. Turi is ready to go out as soon as we hear the ’plane.”

  “And the house patrols are set up?”

  “Guido is outside with that damned mutt of his and when Turi comes back, he’ll be inside.”

  “Right. Keep on your toes. We shouldn’t have trouble but you never know.”

  “‘Kay, Mister Soriano.”

  The man withdrew.

  Conroy’s mind was racing. Serafini could not yet have heard about Adams’ capture by Sneque nor of his rescue, Sneque’s death and the burning of the village. Well, that was something in their favour. It meant that Serafini did not realise that they were on his island. What was important, however, was that the Duke and Duchess were in the villa and that Seralini was expecting to get them away this evening. But the joker in the pack was that he was expecting an aeroplane to arrive at any moment. Jessie had assured him that there was no airfield on Cat Island. Perhaps Serafini had just had one constructed?

  Conroy certainly needed some back-up if the Duke was able to reach the airfield before he could prevent it. Even allowing for the fact that he and Adams had put Guido and his dog out of action that meant there were half-a-dozen men in the villa who could give him a bad time. Now was the time to raise the sloop and get the Navy boys in position.

  He was halfway across the store room when another thought hit him.

  The girl that they had been talking about must be Lise Fennell. The realisation jolted him.

  He bit hard on his lower lip.

  What an idiot he was. He had been so concerned with finding out about the Duke and Duchess that he had almost ignored that part of the Soriano’s conversation.

  He hesitated and then made a decision. He wasn’t going to leave the villa without Lise Fennell.

  He went back to the door which separated the store room from the kitchen. Luis and Maria Soriano were still there.

  He must find some other way down into the cellar.

  Damnation! He was going senile!

  What of the iron grating outside? That surely led into the cellar area?

  He retraced his steps across the store room to the corridor. No one was about. He moved swiftly down the corridor to the door and went outside. The grating was still easy to move and it took only a few moments to scramble through. There was a ledge almost immediately below the grating. Conroy balanced on it and searched for his pocket flashlight.

  He swung it quickly around the darkened vault beyond.

  A soft whistle escaped from his pursed lips.

  The ledge was about six foot above a stone flagged floor. If he had taken one more step forward he would have fallen and injured himself. The grating was little more than a glorified air vent. He replaced the torch in his pocket and eased himself over the side of the ledge, hanging with arms outstretched and then let himself drop down.

  The impact with the stone flagged floor jarred his body but he recovered after a moment.

  He reached for his pocket flashlight again.

  The cellar was a large vaulted area which seemed to run under most of the villa. He saw that one side was used for wine storage purposes but other areas were piled high with junk or bric-a-brac.

  He was about to move forward when he was halted by a scuffling sound. It came from close by.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Friday, August 30, 1940

  On board the Eleuthera, Jessie was sitting in the cockpit watching the night sky and listening. It seemed ages since Harry and Jimmy Conroy had left the yacht. She checked the chronometer. It was just after midnight. From her vantage point she could see the pinpoints of light further along the coast which came from the villa on Devil’s Point.

  The Eleuthera had been brought into a snug anchorage among high coral reefs which protected it from both the sea and the gaze of any casual passer-by from the shore.

  It was the faint drone that had first alerted Jessie.

  Frowning, she stared up into the blackness of the sky.

  The sound was definitely that of an aero engine. She felt perplexed, knowing that Cat Island did not possess an airstrip.

  She saw a fleeting black shadow and jumped to her feet. The aircraft was coming down in the sea off the Point. For a moment she thought it was going to crash and grabbed Harry’s Zeiss night glasses and focussed. By the time she had the focus correct the plane was skimming along the calm seas, trailing a white feather of a wake. It was then she realised that the aircraft was a single-engine seaplane. A seaplane! So that was it.

  Another engine noise came to her clearly out of the night. A motor boat was putting out at high speed from Devil’s Point, curving out to meet the seaplane.

  Were the Duke and Duchess being taken off by seaplane? She struggled to focus on the motor launch. No. Someone was arriving. She wondered who it could be at this time of night and in such circumstances.

  She sighed and wished Harry and Jimmy Conroy would return soon.

  Conroy stood listening. The scuttling sound came again to his ears.

  He turned in its direction, stabbing out with the beam of his flashlight.

  A figure lay in a corner of the cellar — the figure of a woman, bound hand and foot with a gag almost obscuring the lower half of her face.

  Conroy moved forward cautiously.

  Eyes gazed up at him over the top of the gag, eyes that were wide in fear.

  Conroy let out a soft exclamation and dropped to his knees, tugging at the gag.

  Lise Fennell coughed several times as the gag was removed and paused a moment or two to regain her breath. The gag had almost been choking her.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, when she had recovered.

  Conroy realised that in the darkness she had no idea who he was. He shone the flashlight on his face.

  “Carson!” The girl gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Conroy grimaced in the darkness.

  “1 might ask you the same question. Didn’t I warn you about Serafini?”

  She hesitated, as if struggling with a problem. Then she shrugged as if giving in to the logic of the situation.

  “I guess that 1 must trust you, Carson. 1 am an FBI agent.”

  Conroy was not prepared for the response. He stared at her for a long time before finally replying.

  “I didn’t think Hoover employed women agents.” His suspicion about the girl was not entirely dispelled.

  She grimaced in irritation.

  “I work for the Federal Treasury but was seconded to the FBI for this operation.”

  “This operation!”

  “You were right. Serafini is a mobster, a Mafia boss. The Federal authorities have been trying to get something on him for years.”

  “But this is British territory. How come the US are operating here?”

  “Serafini is working his empire from here. Hoover didn’t think the British would mind if we helped to nail one of their seedier residents.”

  “And what were you to do?”

  “I was ordered to…to get near to Serafini. Find out details of his operations. But Soriano must have discovered my identity.
He told Serafini. They put me in here. I think that they would have finished the job right away had it not been for the fact that Serafini has house guests…the new Governor and his wife. But after they have gone…”

  She suddenly shivered violently.

  “I don’t know who you are, Carson, nor what you are doing here, but I need your help. Untie me and help me get back to Nassau.”

  The girl had spoken quietly, only the uneven timbre of her voice showed that she was anxious and had no illusions about what might happen to her.

  Conroy began to untie her bonds. He found himself feeling ridiculous happy at the discovery of the girl’s identity.

  “Some things now begin to fall into place,” he said, reflectively. “I didn’t really have you pegged as a gangster’s moll, if that’s the right term?”

  The girl raised a tired smile in the gloom.

  “For that, thanks.”

  “But while we are clearing up mysteries, what were you doing with Olbricht?”

  She screwed up her face.

  “Who?”

  “Albright then,” repeated Conroy. “You seemed pretty upset when I told you he was dead.”

  She sounded bewildered.

  “Of course. Roger Albright was my Bureau contact man here. He was my back-up.”

  It was Conroy’s turn to be confounded.

  “Albright was your Bureau contact man?” he repeated slowly.

  “Sure, Roger was with the Bureau. He was to keep an eye on me and make sure that I didn’t get into trouble.”

  Conroy stared at her in confusion.

  “How long did you know Albright?”

  “I’ve worked six months with him on this case but I knew him two years ago when we worked on another tax fraud case involving the mob. Why do you ask?”

  “I was convinced that he was a German agent named Rudi Olbricht.”

  The girl’s eyes widened.

  “Roger? You’re kidding?”

  Conroy sat for a moment, perplexed. If Albright was an FBI agent then some things made sense. But if the real Olbricht was still operating in the Bahamas he had made some miscalculations. Grave miscalculations.

  “What’s up, Carson?”

  Conroy came back to reality and shrugged.

  “Actually, since we are swapping confidences, my real name is Conroy. Jimmy Conroy. Major, British Intelligence.”

  She stared at him with growing comprehension.

  “So that’s it? You’re here keeping a check on the Duke and Duchess?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” he grunted, loosening the last knot.

  “You know that Serafini is waiting for some ship to arrive off the Point this evening to take them to Europe?”

  Conroy nodded.

  “Do you know any details? Do you know what time?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’ll tell you something…” she rubbed her wrists to return the circulation, “…they aren’t exactly being kidnapped.”

  Conroy’s mouth turned down.

  “No. I didn’t think so,” he said quietly.

  He helped the girl to her feet.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Not exactly a hundred dollars but I’ll do, Carson…er, sorry, Conroy.”

  “Make it Jimmy, if it is easier,” Conroy replied. “Now let’s get you out of here. I’ve got to make plans to deal with the Duke and Duchess.”

  “Hey, I’ve plans to make, too. I have to contact John Dye, the American consul in Nassau and call in the foot soldiers. I can lay my hands on enough evidence now to prove that Serafini is still active as a capo in the Mafia and is using Cat Island as a base to run his empire in the States. There’s a whole warehouse of contraband in a village near here run by Serafini’s man, Sneque. If we get the Bureau in we can put an end to his empire.” She paused. “Added to which, he has to answer for the death of Roger.”

  Conroy gazed at her in amusement.

  “May I remind you that this is British territory, young lady, and my business comes first? You’d be welcome to Serafini afterwards but…”

  There was a noise from the cellar door.

  “Quick! Get back on the floor!” hissed Conroy.

  Without protest the girl dropped back to the floor, reaching for the gag to replace in her mouth while Conroy quickly slipped the bonds loosely round her.

  The door swung slowly open as Conroy dropped out of sight behind some nearby bales.

  A flashlight swung round the cellar. It hesitated and settled on the girl.

  A woman’s voice said something in Italian and then the light went out and the door slammed.

  They waited for a few moments in the silence.

  “That was Maria Soriano. What do we do now?” came Lise’s whisper.

  “We get out of here,” replied Conroy, helping her up. He led the way to the entrance grating. Glancing round he pushed a couple of boxes into place. “You see that shelf above us?” he asked the girl. “Climb up on that and then, if there is no one about outside, just climb through the grating. I’ll be behind you. All right?”

  She laid a hand on his arm.

  “There’s an Alsatian in the grounds,” she warned. “A pretty vicious one.”

  “Not anymore,” replied Conroy grimly. “The late departed canine and its guard, a gentleman called Guido, are no longer in a position to hold us up.”

  He lifted her up so that she could scramble onto the shelf and then through the grating onto the path at the side of the villa. He followed closely, heaving himself up after the girl. Outside, he paused to return the grating to its place, then guided the girl along the side of the building and across the cobbled yard to the shadow of the outbuildings. The fates had timed it well for, as soon as they reached the outbuilding, there came a sudden crunch of gravel and a dark shadow appeared around the far corner of the villa. The shadow paused. A little red glow suddenly marked a cigarette being inhaled. The moon chasing out from behind some clouds silhouetted the figure of a man, a weapon was hung from his shoulder.

  Conroy could not be sure whether it was the same man, Salvatore, whom he had previously seen.

  Conroy and the girl crouched behind the shrubbery watching as the man drew on his cigarette a couple of times before proceeding to stroll along the side of the building and disappearing around the next corner.

  “Guards,” whispered the girl. “They are Serafini’s ‘soldiers’. Members of the mob.”

  “Do you know how many?” he asked.

  “He has three patrolling the grounds. They are armed with machine guns.”

  “Good. That confirms what I heard. With Guido out of action that makes just two of them.”

  “But there is that large black guy they call Sneque. He is usually about somewhere.”

  Conroy’s face was deadpan.

  “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s dead.”

  Lise looked hard at him but he was already moving off.

  “Keep close, Lise,” he whispered over his shoulder.

  He turned and led the way through the shrubbery to the perimeter wall. On the villa side of the wall, a weeping pear tree grew close. It presented the perfect ladder to aid them climb the wall. They encountered no one and it was not long before Conroy had helped the girl over the obstacle and followed her.

  In the darkness of the trees beyond Conroy peered about him anxiously.

  “Adams!” he called softly. There was no response. The girl looked puzzled. Conroy whistled softly.

  “Keep your shirt on, man,” came a quiet voice behind them.

  The girl jumped as the figure of Harry Adams slid out of the shadows.

  Adams grinned fiercely in the darkness.

  “And I thought you were infiltrating the house to see what Serafini was doing with the Duke and Duchess? Why, you’re sly one, Conroy. Good evening, miss,” he added, nodding to Lise.

  “Cut the sarcasm,” snapped Conroy. “The situation is still basically the same, except we have the informatio
n we need.”

  The girl was looking from Conroy to Adams, trying to assess their relationship.

  “You’re both in British Intelligence?”

  Conroy nodded. “That’s right.”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  “If these aren’t the craziest islands…”

  “Lise, just tell us again about Serafini and the Duke and Duchess.”

  “All right.” She chewed on her lips a moment. “I don’t suppose anyone has a drink? It was a bit dry in that cellar.”

  “‘Fraid not.”

  “Okay. No matter. Well, so far as I knew, the Duke and Duchess were to be the house guests of Serafini for a few days while their belongings were being moved into their new residence, a place called Westbourne owned by Harry Oakes. We arrived in the Lupo di Mare yesterday afternoon.”

  “Who arrived exactly?”

  “You mean apart from the regular crew?”

  “I want to know who is in the house.”

  “Well, the crew are still on the yacht. There are three guards in the grounds of the house, like I told you. There’s Serafini, Maria and Luis Soriano and Magda Montego. Serafini was so secretive about things that tonight he sent away his usual cook and servants. Maria and Luis are organising the dinner tonight.”

  The girl had confirmed what he had overheard in the kitchen of the villa and Conroy was satisfied that she was keeping nothing back.

  “And the Duke’s party?”

  “There is the Duke and Duchess. The Duke has his valet and the Duchess has her maid. But tonight they have been confined to their rooms. There is also the Duke’s bodyguard, a Canadian…”

  “The man named Drake?” interposed Conroy.

  The girl made an affirmative gesture.

  “Serafini was expecting another man to arrive tonight. Someone important, he said.”

  “Any idea who he is?”

  She shook her head negatively.

  Adams intervened.

  “That’s probably the person who arrived in the seaplane.”

  Conroy was startled.

  “Seaplane?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t you hear it?”

  “1 didn’t hear a thing. I must have been in the cellar.”