The Man from the Diogenes Club - [Diogenes Club 01]

by By Kim Newman

  “I understand you’re one of the spooks of the Diogenes Club,” the Whitehall man said. “Winthrop’s creature.”

  Richard shrugged, allowing the truth of it. The Diogenes Club was loosely attached to the Government of the Day and tied into the tangle of British Intelligence agencies, but Edwin Winthrop of the Ruling Cabal had kept a certain distance from the Gnomes of Cheltenham since the war, and was given to running Diogenes more or less as a private fiefdom.

  It was said of one of Winthrop’s predecessors that he not only worked for the British Government but that under some circumstances he was the British Government. Winthrop did not match that, but was keen on keeping Diogenes out of the bailiwick of Whitehall, if only because its stock in trade was everything that couldn’t be circumscribed by rules and regulations, whether the procedures of the Civil Service or the Laws of Physics. Richard was not a civil servant, not beholden to the United Kingdom for salary and pension, but did think of himself as loyal to certain ideals, even to the Crown.

  “I’m afraid this is typical of Diogenes’ behaviour lately,” Garnett said. “There’s been the most almighty snarl-up in the Pleasant Green affair.”

  Garnett, Richard gathered, was one of the faction who thought the independence of the Diogenes Club a dangerous luxury. They were waiting patiently for Winthrop’s passing so that everything could be tied down with red tape and sealing wax.

  “Pleasant Green is being looked into,” Richard said.

  “That’s just it. You’re jolly well to stop looking. Any expenses you’ve incurred will be met upon production of proper accounts. But all documentation, including notes or memoranda you or your associates have made, must be surrendered within forty-eight hours. It’s a matter of national security.”

  Richard had been expecting this curtain to lower.

  “It’s ours, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “Pleasant Green?”

  “You are not cleared for that information. Rest assured that the unhappy events which came to your notice will not reoccur. The matter is at an end.”

  Richard kept his smile fixed and ironic, but he had a gnawing worry. It was all very well to be cut out of the case, but Vanessa was inside. If he wanted to extract her, there would be dangers. He had been careful not to let Garnett gather exactly what sort of investigation he had mounted, but it had been necessary to call in favours from the armed forces to kit the girl up with a snakeskin. Garnett might know Vanessa was undercover at Pleasant Green, and could well have blown her cover with Dr. Iain M. Ballance.

  Garnett finished his g and t and settled the bar bill. He asked the surprised rollergirl for a receipt. She scribbled a figure on a cigarette paper and handed it over with an apologetic shrug.

  “Good night to you,” the Whitehall man said, leaving.

  Richard gave Garnett five minutes to get clear of the Pigeon-Toed Orange Peel and slipped out himself.

  The ShadowShark was parked round the corner. Vanessa usually drove for him, and Fred was occasionally allowed the wheel as a treat, but they were both down in darkest Sussex. He slid into the driver’s seat and lowered the partition.

  “You were right, Edwin,” he told the man in the back seat.

  Winthrop nodded. Though he wore a clipped white moustache and had not bulked out in age, there was a certain Churchillian gravity to the Old Man. He had fought for King and Country in three world wars, only two of which the history books bothered with.

  “Ghastly business,” Winthrop snorted, with disgust.

  “I’ve been asked to cease and desist all investigation of Pleasant Green and Dr. Ballance.”

  “Well, my boy, that you must do. We all have our masters.”

  Richard did not need to mention Vanessa. Winthrop had made the call to an old army comrade to help outfit “Lieutenant Vail” with a believable life.

  “The investigation was a formality, anyway,” Winthrop said. “After all, we knew at once what Ballance was up to. He drives people off their heads. Now, we know who he mostly does it for. He has private-sector clients, but his major business is to provide tailor-made psychopaths who are placed at the disposal of certain official and semiofficial forces in our society. It’s funny, really. The people behind Ballance are much like us, like the Diogenes Club. Governments come and go, but they’re always there. There are times when any objective observer would think them on the side of the angels and us batting for the other lot. You know what our trouble is, Richard? England’s trouble? We won all our wars. At great cost, but we won. We needed a new enemy. Our American cousins might be content to clash sabres with the Soviets, but Ivan was never going to be our dragon. We made our own enemy, birthed it at home, and raised it up. Maybe it was always here and we are the sports and freaks.”

  Richard understood.

  “I know what Garnett wants me to do,” he said. “What does Diogenes want?”

  “Obviously, you are to stop investigating Dr. Ballance’s business. And start dismantling it.”

  * * * *

  ACT III: VANESSA IS VALIANT

  In the morning room, comfortable armchairs were arranged in a full circle. Group sessions were important at Pleasant Green.

  In the next seat was a middle-aged man. Dr. Ballance asked him to stand first.

  “My name is Mr. Ease,” he said.

  “Hello, Mr. Ease,” they all replied.

  ”...and I cheat and steal.”

  “Good show,” murmured an approving voice, echoed by the rest of Group. She clapped and smiled with the rest of them. Dr. Ballance looked on with paternal approval.

  He was a businessman. It had apparently been difficult to wash away the last of his scruples. Now, after a week of Pleasant Green, Mr. Ease was unencumbered by ethics or fear of the law. He had been worried about prison, but that phobia was overcome completely.

  “My name is Captain Naughty,” said a hard-faced man, a uniformed airline pilot. “And I want to punish people who do bad things. Firmly. Most of all, I want to punish people who do nothing at all.”

  “Very good, Captain,” said Dr. Ballance.

  Next up was the patrician woman who always wore blue dresses, the star of Group.

  “My name is Mrs. Empty,” she announced. “And I feel nothing for anyone.”

  She got no applause or hug. She earned respect, not love. Mr. Ease and Captain Naughty were clearly smitten with Mrs. Empty, not in any romantic sense but in that they couldn’t stay away from the sucking void of her arctic charisma. Even Dr. Ballance’s staff were in awe of her.

  “My name is Rumour,” drawled a craggy Australian. “And I want everything everyone thinks to come through me.”

  “Good on you, sir,” Captain Naughty said, looking sideways to seek approval, not from Dr. Ballance—like everyone else in Group—but from Mrs. Empty.

  “My name is Peace,” said a young, quiet Yorkshireman. “I like killing women.”

  Peace, as always, got only perfunctory approval. The others didn’t like him. He made them think about themselves.

  She was last. She stood, glancing around at the ring of encouraging faces.

  The Group was supportive. But this would be difficult.

  “My name is Lieutenant Veevee,” she said.

  “Hello, Veevee,” everyone shouted, with ragged cheer.

  She took a deep breath, and said it.

  “... and I will kill people.”

  There. She felt stronger, now.

  Mr. Ease reached up, took her hand and gave a friendly squeeze. Miss Lark gave her a hug. She sat down.

  “Thank you all,” said Dr. Ballance. “You are very special to Pleasant Green, as individuals and as Group. You’re our first perfect people. When you leave here, which you’re very nearly ready to do, you’ll accomplish great things. You will take Pleasant Green with you. It won’t happen soon, maybe not for years. But I have faith in you all. You are creatures of the future. You will be the Masters of the 1980s.”

  Already, complex relationships had formed within G
roup. Mr. Ease and Captain Naughty competed to be friends with Mrs. Empty, but she liked Rumour best of all. Peace was drawn to Veevee, but afraid of her.

  “Would anyone like to tell us anything?” Dr. Ballance asked.

  Captain Naughty and Mr. Ease stuck hands up. Mrs. Empty flashed her eyes, expecting to be preferred without having to put herself forward.

  “It’s always you two,” Dr. Ballance said. “Let’s hear from one of the quiet ones.”

  He looked at her, then passed on.

  “Peace,” the doctor said. “Have you thoughts to share?”

  The youth was tongue-tied. He was unusual here. He had learned to accept who he was and what he wanted, but was nervous about speaking up in the presence of his “betters.” Whenever Mrs. Empty made speeches about eliminating laziness or what was best for people, Peace opened and closed his sweaty hands nervously but looked at the woman with something like love.

  “I was wondering, like,” he said. “What’s the best way to a tart’s heart? I mean, physically. Between which ribs to stab, like?”

  Captain Naughty clucked in disgust.

  Peace looked at her. She lifted her left arm to raise her breast, then tapped just under it with her right forefinger.

  “About here,” she said.

  Peace flushed red. “Thank you, Veevee.”

  The others were appalled.

  “Do we have to listen to this rot?” Captain Naughty asked. “It’s just filth.”

  Peace was a National Health referral, while the others were Private.

  “You’ve just run against your last barrier, Captain,” Dr. Ballance announced. “You—all of you—have begun to realise your potential, have cut away the parts of your personae that were holding you back. But before you can leave with your Pleasant Green diploma, you must acknowledge your kinship with Peace. Whatever you say outside this place, you must have in your mind a space like Pleasant Green, where you have no hypocrisy. It will ground you, give you strength. We must all have our secret spaces. Peace will get his hands dirtier than yours, but what he does will be for Group just as what you do will be for Group.”

  Mrs. Empty nodded, fiercely. She understood.

  “That will be all for today,” Dr. Ballance said, dismissing Group. “Veevee, if you would stay behind a moment. I’d like a word.”

  The others got up and left. She sat still.

  She didn’t know how long she had been at Pleasant Green, but it could have been months or days. She had been taken back to the nursery and grown up all over again, this time with a direction and purpose. Dr. Ballance was father and mother to her psyche, and Pleasant Green was home and school.

  Dr. Ballance sat next to her.

  “You’re ready to go, Veevee,” he said, hand on her knee.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “But there’s something you must do, first.”

  “What is that, Doctor?”

  “What you want to do, Veevee. What you like to do.”

  She trembled a little. “Kill people?”

  “Yes, my dear. There’s a ‘bird-watcher’ on the downs. Fred Regent.”

  “Fred.”

  “You know Fred, of course. A man is coming down from London. He will join Fred in Whipplewell, at the Coach and Horses.”

  “Richard.”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant Veevee. Richard Jeperson.”

  Dr. Ballance took a wrapped bundle out of his white coat and gave it to her. She unrolled the white flannel, and found a polished silver scalpel.

  “You will go to the Coach and Horses,” he told her. “You will find Fred and Richard. You will bring them back here. And you will kill them for us.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Then, when you have passed that final exam, you will seek out a man called Edwin Winthrop.”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “Good. You have been brought up for this purpose specifically, to kill Edwin Winthrop. After that, you can rest. I’m sure other jobs will come up, but Winthrop is to be your primary target. It is more important that he die than that you live. Do you understand?”

  She did. Killing Winthrop meant more to her than her own life.

  “Good girl. Now, go and have dinner. Extra custard for you today.”

  She wrapped the scalpel up again and put it in her pocket.

  * * * *

  “You’ve been in there five days, Ness,” Fred told her.

  “It seems longer,” she said. “Much longer.”

  Richard nodded sagely. “Very advanced techniques, I’ll be bound.”

  They were cramped together in her Elan. She drove carefully, across the downs. After dark, the road could be treacherous.

  “I was close to you in the wood on the first night,” Fred said. “For the soldier games. What was that all about?”

  She shrugged.

  Richard was quiet. He must understand. That would make it easier.

  She parked in a layby.

  “There’s a path through here,” she said. “To Pleasant Green.”

  “Lead on,” Richard said.

  They walked through the dark wood. In a clearing, she paused and looked up at the bright half-moon.

  “There’s something,” Fred said. “Listen.”

  It was the bagpiper, wailing “Cinderella Rockefeller.” Dr. Ballance stepped into the clearing. Lights came on. The rest of the Pleasant Green staff were there, too: Miss Lark, Miss Wren and the others. To one side, Mrs. Empty stood, wrapped up in a thick blue coat.

  “It seems we’re expected,” Richard drawled.

  “Indeed,” said Dr. Ballance.

  Fred looked at her, anger in his eyes. He made fists.

  “It’s not her fault,” Richard told him. “She’s not quite herself.”

  “Bastard,” Fred spat at Dr. Ballance.

  Mrs. Empty cringed in distaste at the language.

  Dr. Ballance said “Veevee, if you would ...”

  She took her scalpel out and put it to Richard’s neck, just behind the ear. She knew just how much pressure to apply, how deep to cut, how long the incision should be. He would bleed to death inside a minute. She even judged the angle so her ankle-length brown suede coat and calfskin high-heeled thigh boots would not be splattered.

  “She’s a treasure, you know,” Dr. Ballance said to Richard. “Thank you for sending her to us. She has enlivened the whole Group. Really. We’re going to have need of her, of people like her. She’s so sharp, so perfect, so pointed.”

  Richard was relaxed in her embrace. She felt his heart beating, normally.

  “And quite mad, surely?” Richard said.

  “Mad? What does that mean, Mr. Jeperson? Out of step with the rest of the world? What if the rest of the world is mad? And what if your sanity is what is holding you back, preventing you from attaining your potential? Who among us can say that they are really sane? Really normal?”

  “I can,” said Mrs. Empty, quietly and firmly.

  “We have always needed mad people,” Dr. Ballance continues. “At Rorke’s Drift, Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain, the Festival of Britain, we must have been mad to carry on as we did, and thank mercy for that madness. Times are a-changing, and we will need new types of madness. I can provide that, Mr. Jeperson. These women are perfect, you know. They have no conscience at all, no feeling for others. Do you know how hard it is to expunge that from the female psyche? We teach our daughters all their lives to become mothers, to love and sacrifice. These two are my masterpieces. Lieutenant Veevee, your gift to us, will be the greatest assassin of the era. And Mrs. Empty is even more special. She will take my madness and spread it over the whole world.”

  “I suppose it would be redundant to call you mad?” Richard ventured.

  Dr. Ballance giggled.

  Vanessa had Richard slightly off-balance, but was holding him up. The line of her scalpel was impressed against his jugular, steady.

  “Ness won’t do it,” Fred said.

  “You think no
t?” Dr. Ballance smiled. “Anybody would. You would, to me, right now. It’s just a matter of redirecting the circuits, to apply the willingness to a worthwhile end. She feels no anger or remorse or hate or joy in what she does. She just does it. Like a tin-opener.”

  “Vanessa,” Richard said.

  Click.

  That was her name. Not Veevee.

  Just his voice and her name. It was a switch thrown inside her.