by John Creasey
Or dead, despairing, sick ‘free’ men?
How should the people be?
“Stefan,” Palfrey said, hoarsely.
“Yes, Sap?” It was remarkable how Stefan could give significance to remarks or words which in themselves were trite.
“What do you think we should do?”
“I think we should accept the offer,” Stefan answered, simply.
“Out of hand?”
“Of course,” Stefan said. “Don’t you believe that, now?”
“I’m still not sure,” Palfrey answered slowly. “Why are you?”
Stefan answered quietly: “In the past we had a chance of winning without avoidable bloodshed; or at least we had a chance of winning! Now we cannot possibly win. We can only bring about unthinkable bloodshed. It isn’t possible to take the responsibility for all people, we have no right to do it. Our only course is to agree and, when these men have taken over, help them to run the world without pain or hardship. The principles will remain. We shall be able to live by them and help others to live by them as well.”
His expression was so earnest, his face so saintlike, there seemed no doubt at all that he meant exactly what he said.
And Janey watched him with awed fascination, as he echoed all that she had said and rejected everything she had written. Palfrey put his hands on her elbows and eased her back, and she stood up, still crying. He left her and moved towards the wrought-iron railing and looked across at the sunlit hills and the snow-capped mountains and the distant valleys. No one moved or spoke but Oboku’s voice seemed to echo in his mind: “Where are you going to lead them, Palfrey? To bright heaven or to dark hell?”
Then Oboku’s voice did sound: “There it is, Dr Palfrey. There is the promised land.”
The awful thing was that the decision would be forced on him. By doing nothing he could unleash the dogs of war. By keeping silent, saying nothing, then he and Stefan would be condemned to stay here, like Janey and Philip, until the battles were fought and the end had come. Slowly, man would have to rebuild the shattered world.
He saw a movement some way down the mountainside, thought that it was a sheep, stared again because he saw it was a man, climbing between boulders and up a narrow path, little more than a defile between overhanging rocks. Stefan joined him, and stared; and whispered: “It’s Zuka.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s Zuka,” Stefan repeated. “Sap—”
“Read this,” Palfrey whispered, and held the note so that both could read. He did not think there was any fear of being watched or overheard, for there was a sheer drop from the railing into a valley, and there were no walls in which a microphone could be built.
No wall?
There was the railing.
He glanced along this, as Stefan read in silence, and saw a tiny grille not more than a foot away. He half-laughed at himself for his brief folly, and moved, gripped the railing on either side of the microphone and then, as if by chance placed a hand over it.
“We can stay here and keep silent,” he said, “or we can go. Did you mean what you said or was it for the listener-in?”
“I meant it,” Stefan said. “I can’t accept the responsibility for allowing the kind of war they will undoubtedly fight.” He was quite calm, and his voice was steady. “I don’t think Janey would write like this if she knew the consequences. Sap, I wish to God I hadn’t to reach a decision, I wish you hadn’t either.”
“I know,” Palfrey said. “I know.”
He broke off, for Zuka, hidden until that moment by an outcrop of pale grey rocks, appeared again quite near the railing. He stood still and waved; and waved again; and when neither of them moved he bent his knees and spread his arms wide and then raised them sharply and straightened his knees. He repeated the movement three times, then rose to his full height and beckoned furiously.
“What does he mean?” Stefan asked.
“Who is it?” Janey had joined Palfrey on the other side.
“He’s telling us the mountainside is going to blow up,” Palfrey said in a chokey voice. “What else can he mean?”
There were footsteps on the patio, and Philip Carr came hurrying, crying out in a loud voice: “The valley’s subsiding on the other side.”
“Come down here!” cried Zuka. “Hearrr!” His voice echoed.
“Come on!” exclaimed Philip, and as he spoke he lifted Janey up bodily and swung her over the railing, where there was a narrow ledge. He vaulted the railing, put an arm round her waist, and hustled her along.
“Sap,” Stefan said in a strangled voice, “we haven’t any choice now, we’ve got to try to escape.” He placed his great hands on Palfrey’s waist and hoisted Palfrey over the railing. Ahead, the others were scrambling down the hillside, and as Palfrey and Stefan followed there was a great roar of sound, and the earth shook in a terrible paroxysm. Palfrey glanced over his shoulder, and saw the top of the patio building disappearing on the far side of the peak. Rocks began to roll. He was almost oblivious of the pain in his left leg now, but still had to lean on Stefan.
Janey and Philip passed Zuka, who pointed downwards; and when Palfrey and Stefan reached him he said in broken English: “That trail – quick, quick. That one!” He pointed to a narrow gap between two rocks, as the other two disappeared into it. There was another great explosion beneath their feet, and the earth seemed to sink, but it did not go far. Rocks came tumbling, but as Palfrey reached the gap he saw that a narrow trail led upwards to another peak, not downwards; and no boulders fell.
It was as if a giant hand were shaking the earth, until suddenly they were in the defile where the shaking grew much less. Protecting peaks rose almost sheer above them, but from the patio and the valley from whence they had come there came roar upon roar, and the tops of the mountains began to cave in and fill up the centre of the valley.
In the valley itself the earth seemed to seethe in frustrated fury, some fighting to come up, but the great weight falling, filling up the valley, so that the full force of the explosions was felt below ground.
20: The Power of the Silence
Soon, there was a wider track, and by it two small Land Rover type vehicles, each with two Russian soldiers. A great cloud covered the peaks behind them and there was a constant shower of small stones and rocks. One of the soldiers came hurrying with a stack of steel helmets, and Palfrey slammed one on as the shower grew thicker and the rocks larger. They bundled into the vehicles and the four-wheel drive made the going over rock-strewn mountainside comparatively easy. Stefan was squeezed against one side, Palfrey wedged between him and the other door. The jolting hurt both injured leg and injured hand, but neither caused great pain. Soon, they entered another, lower valley, and then a camp with wooden buildings, some tanks, more Land Rovers, barrels of oil, every kind of store. This was at the foot of a green-clad hill where sheep grazed and everything seemed peaceful. The vehicles drew up outside a long, low building, and as Palfrey began to get out, Shakalov appeared, in a fur-collared greatcoat and astrakhan hat which made it look as if he were wearing a wig.
He was smiling very broadly.
“You are a welcome sight,” he said. “We did not think you would escape. If there are any angels, Dr Palfrey, they are certainly on your side.”
“Did you blow the mountain up?” asked Palfrey, limping into the building.
“If by ‘we’ you mean the Russian authorities – yes and no,” answered Shakalov. When Palfrey simply looked at him, with obvious disfavour, he went on: “We mined and prepared the area for the explosion from many miles away, all the openings hidden in the sides of the mountains. There was a small experimental rocket station through which the materials were sent. But we consulted other governments including yours before making the final decision. We were convinced that there was only this one hiding place left, and that if the wind blew to the east after a nuclear blast it could wipe out the whole of the Ural industrial and residential areas. This morning the wind will drive it o
nly into desolate, uninhabited mountains and valleys. And the other governments agreed it was the time to act. Wouldn’t you have advised them to, Palfrey?”
Palfrey said heavily: “I’m not sure. I think, yes.” He was aware of Janey and Philip, watching. “But no – I am not sure.”
“Then I am very glad you did not have to make the decision. What would you have done, Comrade Andromovitch?”
“I think I would have cooperated with the leaders of The Project,” answered Stefan.
“So, such differences of opinion between men who are usually so much in accord,” observed Shakalov. He was in a hearty and expansive mood. “I am even more glad you did not have to decide!” He turned to the man who had led them to the vehicles, a short, stocky man in a blanket jacket and big knee boots. “You know Comrade Zuka, of course.”
Palfrey said: “We met once.” He shook hands.
“We are old friends,” said Stefan, and he seemed almost to wrench the other man’s arm off. “And we need some explanation, please.”
“It is easy,” Zuka said. “I observed over a period of months the unusual activity in the valley, but thought it was Russian activity and that there was no need to report to Z5.” He had dark, nervy eyes, rather like tree-ripened olives. “It is no part of my duty to Z5 to report on military or industrial activity in the country.”
“No,” murmured Palfrey.
“But others had observed and reported it, and it was found not to originate from Russian sources,” put in Shakalov. “So we built observation posts by burrowing through the mountainsides. Once we knew what was beneath the valley, it was a simple matter to take explosives and to fill it in so that the radioactivity would be kept below ground. You see, Dr Palfrey, we had no difficulty in deciding.”
“No,” Palfrey said. “You also buried the secret of the crystals; the way these men could cut out sound and decontaminate radioactive areas.”
“Finding these things is simply a matter of time,” Shakalov said, airily. “If your researchers don’t soon find a way, ours will. Eh, Mr Carr?”
Philip, standing now with Stefan on one side and Jane on the other, pursed his lips, and deliberated before saying: “It could take a very long time.”
“It could take far too long,” Jane Wylie put in, quietly. “Sap, I know I could have been wrong, but I was never in doubt from the time I realised who you were and whom Philip represented. They – the people of The Project, showed me your photograph and asked me to say whether I knew you. At first I said I didn’t, but slowly it dawned on me that it might be more valuable if I said yes, I worked for you and Z5. Directly after I claimed this, they changed their attitude, helped me all they could, somehow made me feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life. But – I did see the slaves.”
“They actually used whips to force some workers to work harder,” Philip said. “They had tomorrow in their hands, and they lived in yesterday.”
“Sap,” said Janey, “you still seem doubtful.”
“In a way I am,” Palfrey admitted. “All of the good of the future is built on the iniquities of the past.” He seemed to frown for a long time but then at last he shrugged. “But in the end I didn’t have to choose, thank God!”
“Which was very good,” said Stefan. He gave a funny little laugh. “What is it you say in English? Silence is golden.”
Shakalov began to smile, Zuka chuckled. Philip threw up his hands as if in resignation. Stefan gripped Palfrey’s arm for a moment, and Janey slid her hand into his good one. Almost at once a large helicopter landed to pick them up, and soon they were in a small jet passenger aircraft, roaring along a military runway.
It was nearly dark when they approached Moscow, and the lights of the city made a wonderland, reflecting in the wide river, showing up the great squares. They landed at the Moscow Airport, and Shakalov said to Palfrey: “You are most welcome to stay the night, or for several days.”
“You’re very kind,” said Palfrey, “but I ought to get back. May we catch the first commercial flight to London?”
“I shall need some discussions with Andromovitch, so he must stay,” said Shakalov, “but you need have no fear, Comrade. We are more than ever persuaded of the value of Z5, whether it is very vocal or very quiet. I hope you will come and spend some time here, before long.”
“I should like that very much,” Palfrey replied, sounding quite humble.
“Sap,” said Janey when he had gone and while Stefan and Philip were talking together. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
He looked at her solemnly, and then replied: “To do what you did, a million times. In what you wanted me to do – I can only tell you what I told Shakalov: I’m honestly not sure. What I am sure—” he broke off.
“Yes?”
“That we’re back in the world as it was and have to make the best of it,” Palfrey finished drily.
“How right you are!” cried Janey, so warmly that Stefan and Philip turned to look at them. “Sap—”
“Yes?”
“Can I help?”
He chuckled: “Become a member of Z5 retrospectively, you mean?”
“There’s nothing I would like more.”
“Philip might have other ideas,” Palfrey said.
“I don’t think he will,” retorted Janey. “I think he loves the work for Z5, and if we can share it, so much the better.”
“If you’re of the same mind a month from now, you’ll be the most welcome new agent we’ve had in years,” Palfrey told her.
Their flight to London was called and they said goodbye to Stefan, who saw the others to the aircraft first, then stood aside with Palfrey while the main stream of passengers got on board. The engines of other aircraft were roaring, jet engines giving their high-pitched growls on landing or the shrieking as they took off. Into a lull, Stefan said: “Such a noise, Sap! How we could use silence!”
“Yes,” Palfrey said. “Yes.”
“Is that really why you hesitated about the best thing to do?”
“Yes,” Palfrey replied. “That and the decontamination of the radioactive air. They had so much power for positive good, I wondered – and I shall always wonder whether we could have used it for good and not evil. The boon of silence could be as great as any we’ve known.”
“Sap,” Stefan said.
“You think I’m wrong,” remarked Palfrey.
“Not truly,” answered Stefan. “I think there were two ways of looking at this and we happened to be on different sides.” He nodded to an official who came up, obviously to ask Palfrey to board, and put out his left hand. “Sap – when you can, and when we are not under pressure, come and spend a while here so that we can talk.”
“I’ll do that,” Palfrey promised. “I’ll do that just as soon as I can.”
He shook hands . . .
He saw Stefan standing near the steps which were moved from the loading bay as the aircraft taxied off, and the huge man was still there when Palfrey looked back for the last time. He saw Janey, hand-in-hand with Philip, and he wondered whether they would be wise to work together for Z5. He did not disturb them, and soon dozed off. When he woke as they were about to land at London airport, the others were asleep, Janey’s head on Philip’s shoulder. But both were alert enough when they disembarked at London and they walked together along the interminable glass-walled corridors to the customs hall and then out into the main airport.
“You two go on to Chelsea,” Palfrey said, “and spend a few days at the house at Romain Square. I’ll see you at headquarters before long.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Philip said warmly.
Janey kissed Palfrey very firmly on the lips and then got into one of two Z5 cars which were waiting. He got into one, helped by the Jamaican driver, who drove in welcome silence to the West End. Joyce Morgan would be up and waiting. All the routine work would be ticking over. From all over the world reports would be coming in. It was even conceivable that one of them would herald a threat as great as the one
just passed.
Threat?
Joyce was waiting; concerned, solicitous.
Z5 was working normally.
“Sap,” Joyce said, “there’s just one thing before you go to bed, one thing you must know.” He could tell from her manner that this was good, not bad news. “There is to be a summit meeting of all the great powers, to discuss what happened here and in Russia, and to try again to work together. So this has done some good, even if it’s only another attempt.”
Another chance, thought Palfrey. Yes, it was good. It might even be the beginning of true peace between nations, but – it might also be the last chance.
That was what he feared so much: that when the last chance came the leaders of the world would lack the wisdom to take and use it as best it could be used.
Other Series by John Creasey
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)
‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)
‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)
‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)
‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
‘The Toff’ (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.
Doctor Palfrey Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
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