The House Of The Bears

by John Creasey

  Then along the tunnel there came a whine, a high-pitched whine like a sighing wind. McDonald gasped: ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Let’s keep going,’ said Palfrey.

  At the first sound his heart had started to beat very fast; now, to his satisfaction, it was steadier. Being confronted with an emergency had steadied him. He put his hand to his pocket and touched his gun.

  The sound came again, high-pitched, whining; like a dog.

  Palfrey thought of the bloodhounds on the moor.

  There were other sounds now; someone was running. McDonald put a hand on Palfrey’s arm. ‘Put that light out!’ he gasped. Palfrey obeyed: They stood in pitch darkness, listening to the noises travelling along the tunnel. Running footsteps merged with that whining sound; there seemed to be a note of excitement in the whining. The bloodhounds were ahead. Suddenly the noise grew louder, there was a baying note; yes, the bloodhounds were coming towards them.

  Palfrey said: ‘You’ve got your gun, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘We’ll stand on either side,’ said Palfrey.

  McDonald pressed against one wall, Palfrey against the other, and they stood waiting in the darkness. The baying was getting nearer and nearer. Then a faint light appeared, not far away. It grew brighter. They could see another bend in the tunnel. Suddenly a figure appeared, a man, running fast but swaying a little from side to side. They did not see his face, but they could see the terror which was reflected in his movements, in his desperate speed.

  Two hounds leapt into sight, not more than thirty yards behind him, and a moment later a small truck appeared. Its single headlight, low down, spread a bright glow along the tunnel, on the hounds and their quarry.

  On Kyle!

  Palfrey fired at the dog nearer to him, and the beast dropped in its tracks. It had been a lucky shot, there was not even a squeal. A gasp of alarm came from the man in the truck. Then McDonald fired, twice, and the second hound fell over and kicked his feet in the air and squealed, a horrifying sound. McDonald fired again and the squealing stopped.

  The driver of the truck was standing up, with a gun in his hand. ‘No thanks,’ said Palfrey, absurdly, and shot him; there was nothing else to do.

  The man slumped back.

  Kyle was now leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. McDonald hurried to his side, while Palfrey looked at the driver of the truck. The man had died instantaneously.

  Kyle was trying to smile, but his lips were set with pain. Palfrey ran his hands over him; the trouble was in that wounded leg, which had been tried far too much.

  They carried Kyle to the truck. There was ample room in the back for him to lie full length. He was grinning more cheerfully now.

  ‘How far away is the mine?’

  ‘Most of two miles,’ said Kyle. ‘And they’re all set to leave.’

  There was a wondering note in his voice. ‘One of the servants slipped me a knife. I was able to cut myself free,’

  ‘He slipped us a key,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him again,’ said Kyle. ‘You know what they’re doing, I suppose?’

  ‘Morne told me.’

  ‘There are twenty-five or thirty of them along there, including the women,’ said Kyle. ‘They fetched that girl, Loretta. We three won’t be able to do much against them.’

  “There will be help,’ Palfrey said. ‘Our people will move on the mine pretty quickly, and the bay is being watched closely.’

  ‘That makes it easier,’ said Kyle.

  ‘Makes what easier?’ asked McDonald.

  Kyle said: ‘Getting that damned bomb formula.’ He grinned, ‘It is a formula, Morne’s got it in his pocket. There aren’t any copies. He told me about that. He talks too much, does King Rufus – you dubbed him well, McDonald.’

  ‘I know him,’ growled McDonald.

  ‘Do you think you can drive this thing, Mac?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘I can try,’ said McDonald. ‘I wonder how far we can go before we’re heard.’

  Palfrey said: ‘That doesn’t matter; they’ll expect the truck back; the sound won’t worry them.’

  ‘The man who always keeps his head,’ said Kyle, with an eyebrow raised. ‘Stay in the back with me. Palfrey, I can talk as we’re going along.’

  The whine of the engine was deafening. At first Palfrey could not hear what Kyle had to say. He crouched down, with his ear close to the man’s lips, and concentrated on listening.

  Kyle said: ‘The man we must get first is Morne, Palfrey. I don’t think he’ll want to be taken alive. He’s convinced that he’s the new saviour of the world – that makes him a sight more dangerous.’ Palfrey nodded. ‘After that, we must stop the mine from being blown up,’ Kyle said, quite calmly. ‘You should see the laboratory, Palfrey 1 It’s worth millions. If Morne is telling the truth, and I think he is, an eggcup of this damned stuff will blow it to perdition – and us with it.’ Palfrey nodded again. ‘But the real trouble will be with that ship,’ said Kyle. ‘It’s a submarine. No one dare fire on it; if they do – ’

  The coast for many miles could be ravaged.

  ‘So we’ve got to get at it from this end,’ Kyle finished.

  Palfrey felt the perspiration dripping from his forehead.

  How could they do these things?

  ‘You two will have to go on,’ said Kyle, ‘but come back for me when you can.’

  ‘All right,’ said Palfrey.

  Once more the feeling came over him that this thing was too much for him, but there was nothing to do but go on.

  McDonald drove as far as the next tunnel, much wider even than the one through which they had come. He stopped, and they got down and stood looking along the tunnel.

  There was light some distance ahead, then lines of light forming a rectangle, presumably a door, leading to a well-lit room. Kyle called: ‘I don’t think that door’s locked. See if they’ve gone.’ Palfrey said; ‘Right-ho,’ and they walked on.

  They reached the door and stood outside, listening, but they could hear nothing. Two or three trucks were standing in the wide space near the door. Palfrey touched the handle and opened it an inch. He could see no one inside. . . .

  He opened the door more widely and stepped through into the underground laboratory.

  It was a vast chamber, well lighted, and fitted up with benches. In the middle stood a huge bulk of machinery. The place was scrupulously tidy, and much warmer than the tunnel.

  ‘I’ll go back for Kyle,’ said McDonald.

  ‘Good man,’ said Palfrey.

  He walked round the laboratory, marvelling at the intricate apparatus, and wishing that he could spend time examining everything fully. It was some minutes before the earlier, sickening fear returned: how could they make sure that the place was not blown up? How could they save this plant?

  The truck drew up outside the door.

  Palfrey went out to help to carry Kyle in. There was another problem: how much could they handle Kyle?

  Kyle, much more himself, grinned broadly as they sat him in a small easy-chair. Palfrey pushed a stool under his leg, and Kyle said: ‘So this is it? I always thought I’d find it, Palfrey. What are we going to do next?’

  ‘Do you know where they’ve put the bomb?’ asked Palfrey.

  Kyle said: ‘No. But I know what it looks like.’

  After a pause, McDonald said: ‘We ought to start looking.’

  ‘Do you know when it’s timed to go off?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘No,’ said Kyle.

  ‘Morne said that the house would go up at six o’clock,’ Palfrey said. He stared at his watch, as if that would give him inspiration. ‘We’ve time to follow Morne and get back and look for this.’

  McDonald said: There might be a hundred men outside, searching for the entrance, Palfrey. We can’t take chances with them!’

  ‘We’ve got to get Morne,’ said Palfrey, flatly.

  Sharp and clear from somewher
e outside there came the crack of a shot. It echoed about the laboratory, and set glass tinkling. They looked at each other in startled inquiry.

  ‘If anyone starts shooting,’ said Kyle, ‘the thing might go off!’

  There was another shot.

  Palfrey walked slowly towards the door at the opposite end of the laboratory. He was hardly conscious of anything but his terrible fear.

  18: THE SUBMARINE

  Palfrey opened the door. His heart was unsteady and his fingers trembled as he touched the handle. He looked into the semi-darkness of a room beyond, and called out in a high pitched voice: ‘Anyone there?’

  It sounded ludicrous even in his own ears, and the echo came back to him. He called again, and immediately afterwards there was a flurry of movement. If some of Morne’s men had remained behind, anything might happen now.

  ‘Sap!’ cried a voice.

  ‘Carmichael!’ exclaimed Palfrey. His fears dropped away, and he hurried forward. ‘Where are you?’ He had recognized the voice, but could not see Carmichael. ‘Where – ’

  Carmichael stepped forward into the light. Trollop followed him, and immediately afterwards the outer room seemed filled with men. Some were in police uniform, there were a few in khaki battle-dress, and several men in lounge suits. All of them stared at Palfrey incredulously.

  Palfrey said: ‘Who fired that gun?’

  ‘I did,’ said a man in Service uniform. He sounded a little sheepish. ‘I saw something move.’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t fire, whatever you see,’ said Palfrey. ‘There’s an explosive somewhere here that might go off if we play tricks, and that wouldn’t be healthy.’

  Carmichael said: ‘They know what it is, Palfrey.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey. He pulled himself together as a youthful major came forward. ‘We’ve quite a job,’ he said. ‘Hidden somewhere in the next room is the container which is set to go off at six o’clock or earlier.’ He saw men flinch at the word ‘earlier’. ‘Even when we find it, I don’t know that we can do much about it,’ he added, ‘except take it out on to the moor and get away as quickly as we can,’

  The major said: ‘We’ll have a try, anyhow.’

  ‘Kyle knows what the thing looks like,’ Palfrey said, and Kyle waved from his chair. ‘Do you know about what is happening outside, major?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said the major. ‘What about Morne? Have you got him?’

  ‘No. But I know where he’s gone.’

  ‘We’ll have to get after him, too,’ said the major.

  Palfrey said: ‘Yes. Two parties.’

  It was surprising how much better he felt now that the others were here. It was good to hear the major give orders precisely and to see his men obey without question. A party of twelve, including four policemen, Palfrey and McDonald, was to set out in the electric truck after Morne. The others would stay in the laboratory; some were already searching, under the supervision of a little, sharp-featured man from the Wenlock police station.

  As Palfrey waited for the trucks to start, anxious thoughts filled his mind.

  Would they find the bomb; and could they get it far enough away in time?

  Was there any reason to think that it would be greatly different from other bombs? Could bomb-disposal men hope to work successfully on it? Could anyone be found who would know how to dismantle it?

  Carmichael did a great deal of talking, the gist of which was that he and Trollop had wandered about the foothills near the old entrance to the mine and eventually seen lights moving in the distance. Closer inspection had revealed what Palfrey had long suspected – a second shaft sunk to the mine. The machinery had been slightly damaged, but the major’s men had repaired it quickly, and the party had arrived almost at the same time as Palfrey and the others.

  The trucks moved off, hurtling through the darkness, without any attempt to drive slowly and quietly. McDonald sat at the wheel, with Palfrey next to him. Two other men were sitting at the back.

  They came upon a wide bay, where several trucks were standing empty. McDonald slowed down. All three trucks pulled up, and the men gathered together in the bay. In front of them was a semi-circular wall with two doors; they could not see any light at all.

  Palfrey led the way to one door, a lieutenant to the other. Only Palfrey’s door was unlocked. He opened it gently and peered through.

  No one appeared to be in the room beyond.

  It was another great chamber, cut almost in two by a stretch of water nearly twenty yards across. The water was moving gently, and reflected the bright roof-lights and the figures of the men who approached. There were benches on either side; the room was a workshop, where, undoubtedly, repairs were carried out to submarines which had put in here. Palfrey wondered whether Morne had known about this place during the war. It was a perfect hide-out for U-boats. He had heard rumours of secret repair-shops off the Corshire coast even before Hardy had mentioned these suspicions. Certainly this workshop had been established for some time.

  The water-cut led through a tunnel where there was a footpath on either side. The soft lapping of the water was the only sound.

  Palfrey led the way on one side of the Water and peered ahead at another lighter chamber.

  If Morne and his party were already at sea, what could happen?

  They reached the second chamber. The ship was there.

  They could see it some distance ahead, moored to the quayside. Roof-lights were shining on its glistening sides. Gangways were in position. There were several men on deck, and two or three people were standing on the quay. Someone on the ground was hidden from Palfrey, who kept as far back in the shadows as he could.

  A man moved and Palfrey saw Loretta Morne on a stretcher. Her face was turned towards him, and he had never seen such a look of hopelessness.

  Morne came out of the turret, walked slowly down the plank and looked at her. She returned his gaze and said something which Palfrey could not hear. Morne bent down and put a hand on her forehead. She spoke again, without removing her gaze. Morne slowly shook his head.

  McDonald, just behind Palfrey, stirred a little. Palfrey touched his hand. Morne raised his voice, and two men picked up the stretcher.

  ‘They mustn’t take her down there!’ McDonald was almost frantic, and his voice was too loud. Palfrey expected Morne to look round, but there was no indication that they had been heard. The stretcher was raised. Morne stood watching,

  Palfrey whispered: ‘They’ll never get away now, Mac. Don’t worry.’

  Palfrey moved forward slowly. He stopped and whispered again.

  ‘I’m going forward before Morne goes aboard. I’ll get him into the water if I can. Four of you go to the other side. Remember, no shooting.’

  Four men silently filed back.

  Other things were being taken aboard. Suddenly, Markham appeared from behind a “stretch of wall which hid part of the quay from Palfrey. He glared at Morne, but went aboard without any outward protest. He stood on deck while Rachel walked past Morne.

  Palfrey moved forward.

  If they looked towards him now, they must see him. He went steadily, his hands held a little in front of him. He saw Rachel glance his way. She stiffened, then looked away again. The servants, only two of them clad in sea-going clothes, had gone behind the wall. Morne was standing with his back to Palfrey, quite unaware of any danger.

  Then Markham looked his way.

  Palfrey was ten feet from Morne by then, with hope high in his breast; but Markham cried: ‘Palfrey!’

  Morne swung round.

  Palfrey leapt at him. The man had no time to defend himself, no time to fend the attack off. They met – but Palfrey had underestimated Morne’s strength; he did not give way, only swayed back and flung his arms about his assailant. For a moment they stood struggling, while the men came rushing from behind the wall and Markham shouted orders.

  That was the thing which impressed Palfrey most, even as he struggled: Markham gave orders.

>   Morne’s grip was powerful. Palfrey felt the breath being squeezed from his body. He was seeking Morne’s wrist. If he could get a proper grip, the man would be helpless. Markham and those on the quay had not seen anyone on the other side, but the four men were there, waiting at the water’s edge.

  Palfrey got his grip; Morne gasped and his pressure slackened. Palfrey was just aware of men passing him going into the attack. He did not see Rachel McDonald leap from the deck to the quay. He did not see Morne’s men close with his own supporters. He was aware only of the fact that Morne was powerless in his grip, and that in Morne’s pocket were the vital papers.

  He swung the helpless man round and caught a glimpse of his face. It was distorted with rage; there was malignance in his eyes, all the hatred that he could summon was focused on Palfrey. Remorselessly, Palfrey forced him towards the water’s edge. The sound of the struggle between the others was loud in the cavern.

  Someone reached Palfrey’s side. ‘Take his coat, take his coat!’ It was Rachel McDonald. Palfrey said: ‘Pull that sleeve!’ Morne was still helpless in his grip; he tried to fend the woman off, but failed. She pulled off one sleeve, and the coat hung from one shoulder. Palfrey released Morne, pushed him suddenly away from him and grabbed the coat. Morne staggered and Rachel tripped him. He fell headlong into the water, and a wave came up over Palfrey’s legs and nearly made him lose his balance.

  The coat was in his hand.

  Men were spilling out of the submarine now, and Markham was rushing towards Palfrey. McDonald and his supporters were already outnumbered and struggling desperately – a fantastic struggle of armed men who dared not use their guns. Palfrey saw Markham coming, saw Rachel turn and block his path, crying: ‘Take the coat! Take the coat!’

  But men were behind Palfrey now; McDonald was out, unconscious; two others were down, and there were men to spare to attack Palfrey. He rolled the coat and flung it as far as he could across the water. He saw his men standing with arms outstretched. Morne was still in the water, but swimming powerfully towards him. He did not see what happened to the coat.