The Case of the Watching Boy (Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt Book 9)

by Robert Newman

  “Exactly.”

  “So that’s why you weren’t upset when the colonel said he was going to bring someone from there back here.”

  “I not only wasn’t upset, I was delighted. As you probably guessed, I’ve been in touch with people there, and nothing would please me more than to have him bring someone back with him.”

  “Chadwick’s father?”

  “It’s a good possibility. He’s a Balkan specialist.” He took out his watch and looked at it. “I’d say we have about a half hour before the next act begins, which should give us plenty of time to report to your mother and Mrs. Vickery on this one.”

  As usual, Wyatt’s guess was a good one. It was just a little over a half hour later that the four-wheeler returned and drew up in front of the embassy. Katarov got out, followed by a somewhat younger man who, though dressed just as formally as the colonel, managed to look as casual as if he were on his way to play cricket.

  Wyatt excused himself and went down the stairs, and Andrew and Markham followed him. Tucker, maintaining the police presence, stood in front of the embassy. When Katarov spoke to him, apparently asking for Wyatt, he pointed toward the hotel, indicating that he was coming.

  “Hello, Chadwick,” said Wyatt, strolling up to the new arrival.

  “Oh, hello, Wyatt,” said Chadwick, shaking hands with him. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You know each other?” said Katarov with some surprise.

  “Oh, yes,” said Chadwick. “We’re both old Oxonians, though I was there a few years before Wyatt. And, of course, we’ve had other dealings since then. The inspector has been extremely helpful in several important international matters; he’s very highly thought of in our office.”

  Though this was all true, Andrew had a feeling that Chadwick was being a bit more fulsome than usual.

  “I see,” said Katarov. “Then since he is a friend of yours, perhaps he will explain to you what he has been unwilling to explain to me. And that is why he is harassing us and subjecting our every move—all our comings and goings—to such intense scrutiny!”

  “But I have explained it,” said Wyatt patiently. Then, turning to Chadwick, “Colonel Katarov cannot seem to understand that we are very concerned about his safety and that of all the members of the embassy.”

  “Safety. Why shouldn’t we be safe here? What reason do you have to be concerned about us?”

  “My dear colonel, have you forgotten that one of your employees was murdered?”

  “You are talking about that coachman, Macy? But he was not killed here at the embassy. And he was not even a Rumanian!”

  “No, he was not. But isn’t it true that you sometimes have difficulty determining who is a Rumanian and who is not?”

  “What do you mean? When have we had such a difficulty?”

  “Captain Benesh had some difficulty with it just a short while ago. He claimed that the person in a veil whom he was escorting to Victoria Station was a woman, the wife of one of your attachés. But she turned out to be a man, a criminal whom we want to question about the murder of that coachman, Macy. And since I would not dream of accusing Captain Benesh of lying, it’s clear that the man in the four-wheeler with him must have fooled him.”

  “Perhaps he did! But it is my conviction that it is you who are trying to fool me and Mr. Chadwick with half answers, half-truths.”

  “I’m sorry, Colonel,” said Chadwick, “but I don’t think that he’s been trying to fool me or that he’s been the least bit evasive. I wish you’d tell me precisely what it is that he hasn’t told you.”

  “He has not told you the real reason he is watching the embassy so closely! He has not said a word about the boy who was kidnapped, whom we are supposedly hiding in the embassy! But now that I know you are a friend of his, I realize I cannot expect any action from you. So I shall take my protest to the highest possible authority—and I shall do that by way of Bucharest!”

  And with a stiff bow, his face dark with anger, he stalked up the steps and into the embassy.

  “Now that,” said Chadwick thoughtfully, “is what I would call a ram-jam of a Rumanian rage.”

  “So would I. I have a feeling that I’ve gotten under his diplomatic skin.”

  “I agree. And since I’ll probably have to answer a few questions about the matter, may I say I hope you know what you’re doing?”

  “You may. And I hope so, too,” said Wyatt soberly.

  “Then you’re not quite as clear about it all as you appear to be?”

  “I’m clear about what I’m hoping to accomplish. I told you, in the note I wrote you, about the child who had been kidnapped, didn’t I?”

  “You did. And said you thought he was being held at the embassy, but you didn’t say why they wanted him.”

  “Because I don’t know why, though I have some ideas. It might help if you told me exactly what was going on in Rumania right now.”

  “I’ll tell you what I can, though I must confess we’re not too clear on it ourselves. The fact is we’re getting some strange and rather puzzling signals from Bucharest these days.” He paused, looking at Andrew and Mark-ham who had moved closer and were listening intently. “I see that the junior branch of the Yard is still with you.”

  “Yes,” said Wyatt. “You know Tillett of course, who is a friend of your son’s. And this is Markham, who’s at school with both of them.”

  “How do you do, sir,” said Andrew. “Would you mind if we listened, too?”

  “Not at all,” said Chadwick. “There’s nothing secret about what I’ll be saying—it’s just confusing. What do you know about Rumania?”

  “Not very much,” said Andrew. “I believe they’ve had a difficult time for quite a while now—first with the Turks, then the Russians and Austro-Hungarians. It’s only recently that things have settled down a bit.”

  “That sums it up fairly well. The present king is named Charles, and he’s not a bad sort, inclined to be friendly to us in the west. He’s getting on, however, and we always expected that his brother, Prince George of Moldavia, would take over after him. George was friendly to us also. But, about nine months ago, he died.”

  “Where did that leave things?”

  “We’re not sure. Prince George had two sons, Maximilian and John. Maximilian was supposedly even more friendly to us than his father, but they were on the outs because Maximilian married a commoner instead of someone who was properly royal.”

  “How does the king feel about him?”

  “We gather the king has reservations about Maximilian too—because of the marriage and because he’s been away a good deal. On the other hand, while the king likes Prince George’s other son, John, quite a lot, the fact is that John isn’t really George’s son, but his stepson. You see, Prince George’s first wife, Maximilian’s mother—who was English, by the way—died about ten years ago and George then married the Countess Sylvia, who was a widow and already had a son, John.”

  “In other words, John is Maximilian’s stepbrother and not actually in the succession.”

  “Exactly. As you can see, the situation is one of Balkan—which is to say, Byzantine—complexity.”

  “Yes, I can see that. What does the Rumanian ambassador have to say about it all?”

  “Count Rozarin? I wish I knew. We like the old boy. He’s intelligent, dedicated, democratic, and a good friend. But, as you’ve probably heard, he’s been very ill—so ill that no one can get to see him.”

  “You’ve tried?”

  “Several times. We offered to send in one of our own doctors to look at him, but old Katarov and the others here won’t have it. They say he’s being taken care of and as soon as he’s well enough, they’ll let us know. But in the meantime we’re very much in the dark.”

  “You are, and we are, too,” said Wyatt. “And I have a feeling that’s exactly where our friends at the embassy want us to be.”

  12

  The Yard’s Junior Branch

  “You mean to say,�
�� said Sara, “that even though they’re fairly sure that the boy is in there, no one can go in and see if he is?”

  “That’s right,” said Andrew.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she said flatly.

  “Maybe not,” said Markham, “but that’s the way it is. They know for a fact that Stub Pollard, a known criminal and probably a murderer, is in there, and they can’t do anything about that either.”

  “Well, as I said, it doesn’t make sense,” said Sara, who had joined them at the hotel as soon as she got out of school.

  “But it does,” said Andrew. “All diplomacy is based on the principle that the diplomat cannot be arrested or injured in any way. If this weren’t so, no two nations would ever be able to discuss things with one another. And once you give immunity to a diplomat, you’ve got to extend it to the place where he works and lives.”

  “All right,” said Sara. “I suppose I don’t like it because I don’t like what’s happening. Bad people are using a good rule for bad purposes.”

  “Unfortunately that happens fairly often,” said Andrew. “Hello,” he added, glancing up the street. “I wondered what you were looking at,” he said to Markham.

  “Your stepfather said they were here,” said Markham, “and I wondered if we’d see them.”

  “They’re Gypsies, aren’t they?” said Sara, who had turned and was looking with frank interest at the two men who were approaching them.

  “Yes,” said Andrew. Then, as the men paused, “Hello.”

  “Greetings,” said Jasper. “I don’t know your names, but we saw you before—at the police station in Medford.”

  “That’s right. I’m Andrew Tillett. This is Christopher Markham. And this is our good friend, Sara Wiggins.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Jasper formally. “I’m Jasper Lee and this is Daniel Lee.”

  “Are you brothers?” asked Sara.

  “I could answer that by saying, ‘Aren’t all men brothers’? And even if that isn’t true, I could observe that most Gypsies are related in some way. But the truth is, no. We are not brothers, not related. We are merely, as you claim you are, good friends.” Then, looking at each of the three young people in turn, “Am I right in assuming you have some special interest in this case?”

  “What case do you mean?” asked Andrew.

  “I think you know. The case of the boy who was taken from the house in Medford. You were there, in the police station with that Scotland Yard inspector, Wyatt. And you’re here now.”

  “Yes,” said Andrew. “And we do have a special interest in the case. Markham and I are at school in Medford and, without meaning to, were involved in the kidnapping. But besides that, Inspector Wyatt, who’s in charge of the case, is my stepfather.”

  “We thought you were involved in some way. I was impressed by the fact that the inspector knew some Romany. A good policeman, I think.”

  “The best one in Scotland Yard,” said Sara stoutly. “The best one in England and probably the best one anywhere.”

  “He certainly seems to have admirers,” said Jasper, “which is always a good sign. Not that I needed such a sign. I liked him from the first time I saw him.”

  “You haven’t told us why you’re specially interested in the case,” said Markham. “Why you’ve come all the way down here from Somerset.”

  “But you were there when we were told to keep in touch with the police.”

  “I think Inspector Gillian meant that you should keep in touch with him,” said Andrew. “Not come down here to London.”

  “Perhaps we misunderstood,” said Jasper. “And perhaps we wanted to come down here anyway. After all, in the beginning we were suspected of having been involved in the kidnapping, and we won’t rest easy until our name is cleared.” Then, as Andrew nodded sympathetically, “Have there been any new developments?”

  “The first secretary at the embassy doesn’t like what’s been going on, the way the police have been stopping everyone who tries to leave the embassy, and he brought someone from the Foreign Office to make them stop. But the inspector convinced the man from the Foreign Office that he was doing what they were doing to protect the Rumanians.”

  “I see. And are you still not sure—really sure—that the boy is in there, in the embassy?”

  “No. The inspector thinks he is, but he’s not sure.”

  “And if he were sure?”

  “I think he’d do something,” said Sara. “I don’t know what, but he’d do something.”

  “Yes,” said Jasper. “I have a feeling he’d do something, too. And the woman—the boy’s mother—how is she?”

  “About the way you’d expect. If she didn’t have faith in the inspector also—and if she didn’t have Andrew’s mother to talk to—I don’t know what she’d do.”

  “Yes,” said Jasper. “I can imagine what it must be like.”

  Daniel, his companion, said something to him in their own tongue, and Jasper turned, looking up the street.

  “Ah,” he said as Benesh came out of the embassy. “Someone seems to be leaving the sanctified precincts. Do you know him?”

  “Yes,” said Andrew. “That’s Captain Benesh, the first secretary’s aide. Tucker!” he called.

  “You don’t have to call me,” said Tucker, coming out of the hotel. “We’ve been expecting something like this. Good afternoon, friend Jasper. Good afternoon, friend Daniel.”

  “Good afternoon, Sergeant,” said Jasper. “What have you been expecting?”

  “That someone would be going off to send a telegram to Bucharest. But we’ll soon see,” he said as a uniformed constable fell into step behind Benesh and followed him, making no attempt to disguise his purpose.

  “And if he does send a telegram?” said Jasper.

  “We’ll get a copy of it. It will probably be in code, but with a little help, we’ll be able to decode it.”

  “Of course,” said Jasper. “The good inspector continues to impress me. Is he inside?”

  “No,” said Tucker. “He’s at the Yard looking into some new information that’s just come in. But he’ll be back this evening.”

  “Then I shall return at that time also. It is very important that I see him.” Again Daniel said something to him in their own tongue—it was hard to tell if it was a question or a statement—and Jasper shook his head impatiently. “I will wait no longer,” he said firmly. “Goodbye, Sergeant,” he said to Tucker. “Good-bye, my young friends,” he said to Sara, Andrew, and Markham, and he went off, walking grimly and so quickly that Daniel almost had to run to keep up with him.

  “I wish I knew what his game is, why he’s got his spoon in this pot,” said Tucker, looking after him. “His nibs seems to know; he says they’re on our side, so I guess they are.”

  “I’m sure they are,” said Sara. “He was asking about Mrs. Vickery.”

  “That poor lady,” said Tucker. “She looks as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since she came down to London. Enough to break your heart, it is.”

  “We know,” said Sara.

  “I’ve asked our friendly proprietor for some tea,” said Tucker. “If you want some, come inside.”

  “In a little while,” said Andrew. Then, as Tucker went back into the hotel, “Well? Anyone got anything to say?”

  “No,” said Sara. “But a tenner to a tanner, you have.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve had a feeling about it ever since I saw you at breakfast.”

  “Well, you’re right. I didn’t want to say anything about it then. I thought I’d wait until you got here this afternoon. But while Mrs. Vickery’s been wonderful—courageous and patient and all that—I don’t think she can take much more. And I’m not sure I can either. So I think it’s time we did something.”

  “You mean you have an idea about something we can do?” said Markham.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us,” said Sara.

  “It’s not a dead sure thing,” said An
drew. “There’s lots that can go wrong with it, but here’s what I had in mind.”

  They were silent for a long moment when he had finished.

  “You’re right when you said that things can go wrong,” said Sara thoughtfully. “Quite a few things can. But at the same time, I think it’s worth a try.”

  “So do I,” said Markham. “I’m going to be in on it, am I not?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said Andrew. “You can get what we need for the first part, can’t you, Sara? Clothes and makeup?”

  “Of course. You were planning to do it tonight?”

  “Yes. The sooner the better.”

  “I agree. And there are any number of places I can get what we need—not that we’re going to need much.”

  “There’s just one thing,” said Markham. “I’d like to be the one who goes in.”

  “Nothing doing!” said Andrew. “It was my idea.”

  “I know. But you see, I couldn’t do the first part. I’m not sure enough of myself, wouldn’t be able to play along with Sara the way you can. On the other hand, I can do the rest easily. I’m smaller than you are and I’m quick and … please!” he said as Andrew began shaking his head. “You’ve got to let me do it! After all, I’m responsible for what happened. If it weren’t for me and my stupidity, it never would have happened. Won’t you please let me do it?”

  “It could be dangerous,” said Andrew seriously. “They’re a bad lot, and there’s no telling what they might do if you’re caught.”

  “I know. But I don’t care. I’m not saying I’m as brave or clever as you, but I’m sure I can manage.”

  “It’s not a matter of being brave or clever. I’d be scared to death if I did it. But I am a little older than you are, and.…” He turned to Sara. “What do you think?”

  She had been studying Markham. Now she nodded.

  “If he wants to do it, I think we should let him. He’ll be all right.”

  “Thank you, Sara!” said Markham fervently. “Thank you very much!”

  13

  Inside the Embassy

  Aristide Denon, pastry chef of the Rumanian embassy, was in a bad mood. There was nothing surprising about that. He had been at the embassy for about six weeks, and he had been in a bad mood for most of the time. How could he help it when day after day he had to work in the same kitchen with Zelescu, that idiotic Rumanian, who had the effrontery to call himself a chef?