Evil in a Mask

by Dennis Wheatley

  Taking a chair, Roger proceeded. ‘The Emperor’s instructions are that we should contact the Mahratta Princes, as they are known to be hostile to the British. Since I once crossed India from Calcutta to Bombay, he labours under the false impression that I know that vast territory from end to end, and many of its Maharajahs. But the fact is that, during my journey, I never even saw a Mahratta Prince, so I can be of no use to you in opening negotiations with any of them.’

  The General nodded. ‘I am aware of that. You mentioned it to me soon after we left Warsaw.’

  ‘Since I can be of no help to you with the Mahrattas, another way in which I could make myself more useful has occurred to me. No doubt you have a map of the territory we shall have to cross in order to reach India.’

  Gardane produced a map and spread it out on a divan. Roger drew his finger across the broadest part of India, and said, ‘There we have the huge area, under the control of the Mahratta Confederacy. It includes in the West the great port of Bombay; so I assume it is for there you intend to make?’

  ‘Yes. I plan to travel east through the Persian cities of Yazd, Bafq and Rapsanjan, then south to the port of Banda Abass at the entrance to the Persian Gulf; and from there take ship to Bombay.’

  ‘That appears to be the quickest route,’ Roger agreed. ‘And now, you will observe that Goa, the colony of considerable extent in which the Portuguese have been established for some two hundred years, lies on the coast only two hundred and fifty miles south of Bombay. As you are aware, during our stay in Isfahan, I developed particularly good relations with the personnel of the Portuguese Embassy and as I have long been fluent in Spanish, I succeeded in becoming fairly well acquainted with Portuguese. If, therefore, I went to Goa and made capital out of my friendship with the Marquis de Pombal, I would be both well received and able to talk in their own language with the principal gentlemen in authority there.’

  A slight frown crossed Gardane’s brow. ‘Admittedly, but I do not see in what way this could benefit our mission.’

  Roger smiled. ‘It could, since the Emperor has in mind the conquest of India. Obviously, if you can succeed in winning over the Mahratta Princes, the first French Expeditionary Force for their support would be landed in Bombay. Think how advantageous it would be if we landed a second force in Goa. We should then be able to initiate a pincer movement which could result in our swiftly becoming the masters of all central India.’

  ‘As a strategic conception, I agree that it is admirable. But, as things stand, surely you do not suppose that you could induce the Portuguese in Goa to become our allies?’

  ‘Dear me, no!’ Roger shook his head. ‘That is too much to hope for. But, given a month or so there as a private traveller, I could secure knowledge of all the Portuguese defences and the weak spots in them. That could ensure a French expedition’s getting ashore with few casualties and seizing the colony without serious opposition, as a valuable base for future operations.’

  After a moment’s thought, Gardane replied, ‘You are right. A French force based on Goa could be of immense advantage in the campaign. And an expert such as you, able to advise how to capture it without heavy losses, would prove a most valuable asset.’

  Roger stood up and bowed. ‘Mon Général, I am happy that you should approve my idea, although it means that, for a while at least, we must terminate our pleasant association. To conclude your negotiations with the Shah and ensure the continuance of his goodwill, can hardly be done in less than a fortnight. Moreover, our routes to India will be different, as I propose to make for the Portuguese trading station at the head of the Gulf, from which it should not be difficult to secure a passage direct to Goa. There is, therefore, no point in my remaining on here, and the sooner I can get to work in Goa, the better. So I propose to make arrangements to leave Isfahan as soon as possible.’

  The General agreed to that and Roger left the office well satisfied with the way in which his deception had worked. Later, of course, it would be learned by Gardane that he had never gone to Goa; but not for, perhaps, a year or at least many months. By then, if the question ever arose at all, he could easily produce a reason for the change in his plans.

  During the past few days he had been unutterably depressed; now he felt his old self once more. To set out alone, except for native guides, across hundreds of miles of desert and mountain was to court many dangers. The journey would entail much hardship and privation. But at the end of it was Lisala.

  15

  Of Intrigues in Spain

  Roger was up at dawn next morning, making his preparations. Caravans for Shiraz left Isfahan daily, and had he really meant to go down to the Gulf, that was the road he would have taken. As it was certain that his brother officers would come to see him off, in order to give credence to his intentions, as told to Gardane, he had no alternative but to take it.

  However, he meant to do so for only a dozen miles, then turn back north-west, heading for the city of Najafabad. There he would strike the Silk Road and, following the same route the mission had taken on its outward journey, return to Antioch. This plan entailed an element of risk for, after leaving the caravan, he would have to cross some fifty miles of open, and mainly trackless, country. As he always carried a small compass on his travels, he had no fear of losing his way; but, outside her cities, Persia was still a lawless land, with many bands of roving brigands. It was for this reason that merchants always banded together and travelled well armed, in large caravans.

  The risk of his being attacked was not a great one, as such bands did not often marauder so close to the capital; and, if he did fall in with one, he would have no merchandise that might tempt it. All the same, he felt that it would be worth the money to provide himself with an armed guard; so he sought out Mesrop and told him in confidence that he was about to set out on a secret mission, for which he needed a guide who knew the country well within fifty miles of Isfahan, a servant and six reliable, armed men who would accompany him to any place he wished to go during the next two days.

  The Armenian, who had become his good friend, willingly obliged; so that very evening of August 30th, Roger, clad in the Balkan costume he had acquired in Constantinople, and accompanied by his private escort, joined the caravan for Shiraz. It started from outside the great Bazaar. Gardane and the majority of the officers who had been Roger’s companions for many months, came to see him off. They were loath to part with him, and waved him away, wishing him good luck.

  During the cool evening hours, the caravan covered some fifteen miles, then made camp for the night. At first light next morning, as preparations were in the making for the next stage of the journey, and the scores of camels being prodded on to their legs, Roger told the caravan leader that he had changed his plans. Then, accompanied by his bodyguard, he left.

  By ten o’clock, the heat was so terrific that they had to take shelter in a mud-walled village. The stench in the hovel that the headman courteously led him to rest in was such that he was nearly sick; but he managed to doze there for some hours; then, after a meal prepared by his own men from his own stores, they set out again. Knowing something of the ways of the country, he feared it likely that, while his troop rested, the gravely-polite headman might have sent word to some brigand chief in the neighbourhood that a foreigner with only a light escort was there, and that evening would be on his way north. But this fear proved groundless. Unmolested, at ten o’clock that night, they rode into the city of Najafabad.

  Early next morning he enquired of the master of the caravanserai about caravans proceeding to Dezful and learned to his annoyance that one was not due to leave until three days later. Further influenced by the knowledge that if he did go with it his progress would have to conform to that of the slow-moving camels, he decided to retain his escort and push on with them.

  At the Persian border they refused to accompany him further; but he secured Mesopotamian Arabs to replace them and, later, Syrians. On one occasion when riding through a rocky gorge, they we
re fired upon; but, putting their horses into a gallop, succeeded in getting away, the only casualty being one of the escorts who had a bullet through the fleshy part of his left arm. On another occasion Roger woke one night in the desert, to find one of his Syrian escort in his tent, and about to make off with his musket. The attempted theft could well have been the first act in a plan by them all to mutiny and murder him, then make off with whatever money he had. He could not afford to risk that, so he swiftly cocked the pistol he always kept beside him and, as the man was crawling out of the tent, shot him in the back of the head.

  After that, he met with no further troubles. There is much truth in the saying: ‘He travels fastest who travels alone.’ Moreover, he did not stop for two days in Babylon, as Gardane’s party had done on the way out. In consequence, he made considerably better time, completing his journey in well under a month, and arriving at the port of Antioch on September 26th.

  Inured to roughing it, he decided to take the first westward-bound ship available, and next morning went aboard a felucca that was about to sail for Cyprus. There he picked up a small but fast Greek trader bound for Crete. In Heraklion he was delayed two days, but then found better quarters on a Neapolitan brig which carried him to Catania in Sicily. Protected by the British Navy, the island was still ruled by King Ferdinand, who had fled there when the French had chased him out of Naples; so, while in Catania, Roger had to continue to wear his Balkan costume and pose, as he had done since leaving Antioch, as a Bulgarian merchant. But he was lucky in that only a day later he secured a passage to Valencia in a three-masted barque.

  On the second evening out, he had cause for considerable anxiety, as the barque was sighted and chased by a Corsair from one of the ports on the Barbary coast. Armed only with six twelve-pounders, the barque could not have put up a prolonged resistance and, once boarded by a swarm of ferocious Moors, her crew would have been swiftly overwhelmed. But fortunately night was coming on, and she got away under cover of darkness, landing Roger safely at Valencia on October 25th.

  The difficulties of shaving during his long journey from Isfahan to Antioch had decided him to let his beard grow and, after much thought, by the time he took ship he had formed a plan about how he should proceed when he reached Lisbon. The plan entailed a change of appearance; so he had continued to refrain from shaving, while crossing the Mediterranean, and now had a curly brown beard, moustache and side-whiskers.

  Up in his room at the inn to which he had been recommended, he studied his face in the mirror, and it struck him that the whole of his lower face being covered by hair might give anyone who knew him the impression that he had deliberated attempted to disguise himself. Sending for hot water and scissors, he first cut his beard short and shaved his chin, then carefully trimmed his moustache to give it a smarter appearance. Next, as Spain was France’s ally, he got out of his Eastern garments and put on the well-worn uniform that he had brought in his solitary valise.

  After he had dined that evening, the heavy expenses of his long journey had reduced his funds to three gold pieces. However, for many years past he had been in the habit of always travelling with a packet of small diamonds in his moneybelt; so, next morning, he sold some of them to a jeweller for a sufficient sum to get him to Lisbon.

  There remained the question as to whether he should proceed there by sea, or overland. The former would have been less fatiguing; but his recent narrow escape from being captured by Barbary pirates made him disinclined to risk taking passage in a ship that would have to sail close to the North African coast before passing through the Straits of Gibraltar. In consequence, he elected to cross the Peninsula and, knowing how bad were the roads in Spain, to take the highway to Madrid; although that entailed a detour from the direct route. Riding post, he set out from Valencia soon after midday and, four days later, on October 30th, he entered the Spanish capital.

  On the following morning, he walked round to the French Embassy. Of the porter on the gate he enquired who was now Ambassador there, and was pleased to learn that it was the Marquis de Beauharnais. The Marquis was the brother-in-law of the Empress Josephine by her first marriage, so Roger had met him on many occasions, both at Court and in the more intimate family circle of the Bonapartes. He sent in his name and, a quarter of an hour later, was ushered into the Ambassador’s study.

  The tall, thin Marquis came out from behind his desk, gave Roger a friendly smile and said, ‘Mon cher Breuc! This is a delightful surprise; and, may I add, it is equally surprising to see one of His Majesty’s aides-de-camp in such a travesty of his usual brilliant uniform. What brings you here, and in such a sad condition?’

  Roger returned the smile. ‘It is a long story, Excellency, and an even longer journey from the Emperor’s headquarters in Poland via Constantinople to Persia, then from there back to Madrid. Hence the parlous condition of my garments.’

  ‘Persia! That is indeed a far cry. Please to be seated and tell me of it.’

  ‘Willingly, if Your Excellency has the leisure to listen. But I imagine that you must have many matters requiring your attention; so perhaps it would be better to postpone telling my story until a more suitable time. Meanwhile, I would add that my journey is not yet completed. I am on my way to Lisbon. I called only to pay my respects and, if you will be so obliging, learn from you how things now stand in Europe. For many weeks, while crossing deserts and the Mediterranean, I have been deprived of all news. Has His Majesty yet conquered England, or is he making ready to descend on India?’

  The Marquis laughed. ‘Neither, as yet; although, no doubt, he will do both in due course. He has, however, made yet another of his brothers a monarch. Some months ago, he consolidated a number of German Principalities into what is now known as the Kingdom of Westphalia, and gave it to Jerome. But there have been no great battles since Friedland.

  ‘In August, Gustavus of Sweden asked for an armistice. Austria maintains her neutrality. Russia is our ally. Apart from those, His Majesty is the master of the greater part of Europe, either directly or through subservient Governments who dare not defy his wishes. England alone now remains entirely our enemy.’

  ‘And how has the war against perfidious Albion prospered?’ Roger enquired.

  ‘Her Navy still rules the oceans; but on land there is little she can do against us. She is war-weary and, until last spring, her Government had no man of spirit in it. The Duke of Portland then became Prime Minister, with a Mr. Canning as his Foreign Secretary. Canning is a man to watch, for it was he who inspired the only serious blow against France that has been struck for the past year or more.’

  ‘I pray you, tell me of it.’

  The Ambassador took a pinch of snuff. ‘It concerned Denmark. After the Treaty of Tilsit, when the Czar became our ally, the British feared that would lead to the closing of the Baltic, and that they would no longer be able to supply the Anglo-Swedish army, which was still maintaining its hold on Stralsund in Pomerania. There was, moreover, the even more important question of the Danish Fleet. The countries under the Emperor’s control can send fifty-nine ships of the line to sea. The Czar could give us twenty-four and, had we been able to use the Danes’ eighteen, that would have given us parity with Britain; thus giving us the prospect of reversing the decision at Trafalgar.

  ‘France and England vied with each other in offers to induce the Danes to become their ally. The Danes wished to remain neutral and refused all overtures. Fearing that the Emperor would invade Denmark and seize her Navy, Mr. Canning initiated swift and violent action. Under Lord Cathcart, he sent the greater part of the British Navy to Copenhagen, accompanied by General Sir Wellesley with transports carrying a large body of troops. They attempted to overawe the Danes into surrendering their Fleet, by threatening to bombard the city. The Danish Prince Royal gallantly refused to submit. Wellesley landed outside the capital with his troops, and eighty-eight vessels of the British Navy proceeded to fire their cannon upon it. The end was inevitable surrender. For six weeks the British occ
upied the Danish fortifications, then sailed away with the captured Danish Fleet.’

  Hiding his delight, Roger remarked, ‘It was an unorthodox procedure to attack a neutral without provocation; but sound strategically.’

  ‘The British paid a price for it, though,’ the Marquis smiled. ‘In their anxiety to overawe the Danes, they withdrew their troops and warships from the Baltic to assist in the operation. Left unsupported in Stralsund, King Gustavus was compelled to ask terms of Marshal Brune. So Sweden is now out of the war. Moreover, so incensed were the Danes by Britain’s high-handed treatment of them that, no sooner had the English evacuated the strong places in the neighbourhood of Copenhagen than they declared war and are now become our valuable allies.’

  ‘That being so,’ Roger remarked, ‘the only loopholes left in His Majesty’s “Continental System” are the ports of Portugal.’

  ‘Indeed yes; and long before the Emperor proclaimed his “System”, he endeavoured to close them. As far back as ‘95 he urged the Directory to exert pressure on Spain to coerce Portugal into withdrawing from her alliance with England. In 1801 after he had become First Consul, he renewed his attempts and, ever since, when he has not been occupied with grave matters, he has again taken up the question.’

  ‘It amazes me that over so many years he has not succeeded.’

  ‘There have been many difficulties. The Portuguese are a stubborn people. They cannot be attacked except by an army that first crosses Spanish territory. The ruling families of both France and Spain being Bourbons, the Revolution and subsequent execution of Louis XVI provoked the greatest possible antagonism in this country, and led to Spain making war on France. Yet, even after the brief, inglorious campaign of ‘94, King Carlos paid only lip-service to the treaty forced on him at Basle, and refrained from exerting pressure on Portugal, because his sister is the Princess of Brazil and the wife of the Prince Regent Joao.