Contraband

by Dennis Wheatley

  He stared at them for a moment; thinking how strange it was that the owner of this grim business office should be sufficiently interested in Shakespeare to keep a set in his depressing work room. Then he noticed that whereas the tops of thirty-nine volumes were grey with dust, the fortieth, number sixteen in the set, was comparatively clean and stood out a little from the others as though it had been recently used and hastily put back.

  ‘When you are ready,’ he said to the Superintendent who was standing in the doorway, ‘we’ll quit. I don’t think you’ll find much here but, if you’ll provide me with a copy of The Tempest, when we get back to the Yard, I think I’ll be able to decode that famous telegram for you.’

  18

  The Deciphering of the Code

  At Scotland Yard Gregory settled down in the Superintendent’s room with a thin paper edition of Shakespeare’s plays, a pencil, and some blank sheets of foolscap. He knew that any ordinary combination of figures could have been deciphered by the decoding department at the Admiralty, to which Sir Pellinore had first sent the Corot telegram. The fact of its having defeated the experts showed quite clearly that the numerals referred to the lines of a certain book known only to the sender and recipient or their associates. His discovery of The Tempest as the only book in the set of Shakespeare, reposing so incongruously in the dusty warehouse of Mitbloom & Allison, which had recently been used, made him feel certain it held the key to the cipher.

  He spread out the telegram before him and re-read it:

  COROT CAFE DE LA CLOCHE CALAIS SIXTH 41 44 11 15 THENCE 46 SEVENTH 43 47 EIGHTH AGAIN 47.

  Turning to the play he looked up line 41, which read:

  ‘… drown? Have you a mind to sink?’

  Then line 44: ‘Work you then.’

  Next, line 11; which only had the single word: ‘Enough!’

  Line 15 was, ‘Where is the master, boatswain?’

  And line 46: ‘… noise-maker. We are less afraid to be drowned than …’

  It simply did not make sense so he tried another method.

  Treating the first numeral in each pair as indicating an act of the play, and the second numeral the line, which gave him:

  41 ‘If I have to’

  44 ‘Amends; for I’

  11 ‘Here, master: what’

  15 ‘Ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.’

  This did not seem to make sense either so, for a quarter of an hour, he worked on all sorts of other possibilities; trying out the numbers against full speeches or as lines in various acts and scenes, but none of them gave any results until it occurred to him to try the songs of the Fairy Ariel.

  There were four songs in the play and he wrote them down.

  On taking out the lines, in accordance with the numbers in the telegram, he arrived at the following:

  (Song 4, line 1). ‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I.’

  (Song 4, line 4). ‘On the bat’s wing I do fly.’

  (Song 1, line 1). ‘Come unto these yellow sands.’

  (Song i, line 5). ‘Foot it featly here and there.’

  (Song 4, line 6). ‘Merrily, merrily shall I live now.’

  (Song 4, line 3). ‘There do couch where owls do cry.’

  (Song 4, line 7). ‘Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.’

  (Song 4, line 3). ‘There do couch where owls do cry.’

  (Song 4, line 7). ‘Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.’

  This little collection seemed by far the most hopeful he had achieved yet. There was a reference to ‘yellow sands’ and another to ‘owls’, which suggested the Brown Owl Inn. The words ‘foot it featly’, too, immediately conjured up in his mind a vision of long dancing limbs clad in silk stockings.

  Bearing in mind that the first four lines referred to the sixth of August, when he had witnessed the smugglers’ operations at Calais, he went over them again. ‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I’, seemed to suggest the depot at Calais, from which the smugglers drew their supplies. He did not know where they had landed on that occasion but, now that he was acutely conscious of the vast stretch of yellow sands at Pegwell Bay and their base a little way inland from it at Ash Level, it looked as though that was the spot where the smugglers had dropped their cargo on the night of the sixth.

  Going on to the seventh, the Brown Owl Inn on Romney Marshes was plainly indicated, as he knew that they had landed there that night, and the repetition of it for the EIGHTH, when they had landed there again, confirmed his guess.

  He was puzzled for a moment about the line ‘Under the blossom that hangs on the bough’, but, in view of the fact that they had discovered tobacco in Mitbloom and Allison’s warehouse, he soon decided that the inference must be to leaves, and that both the cargoes he had seen landed at Romney on the two previous nights were shipments of tobacco. When he had finally re-drafted the telegram on these assumptions, it read:

  COROT, CAFE DE LA CLOCHE, CALAIS. SIXTH. I AM COLLECTING SUPPLIES FROM OUR BASE AT CALAIS. THEY WILL BE DESPATCHED BY PLANE TO PEGWELL BAY AND THE FREIGHT ON THIS OCCASION WILL BE A CONSIGNMENT OF SILKS. THENCE I SHALL PROCEED TO THE CARLTON AND ON THE SEVENTH A FURTHER CONSIGNMENT WILL BE LANDED AT THE BROWN OWL INN ON ROMNEY MARSHES CONSISTING OF TOBACCO. ON THE EIGHTH THE LAST OPERATION WILL BE REPEATED AND WE SHALL LAND AT THE BROWN OWL INN AGAIN WITH A FURTHER CARGO OF TOBACCO.

  ‘There you are’—he pushed it over to Wells and the Superintendent, ‘that all fits in—doesn’t it?’

  The Superintendent nodded. ‘Good work, sir. If you’re ever out of a job I think we could find you a billet. Unfortunately, though, this telegram only carries us up to the night of the eighth and it’s already the ninth, or rather the morning of the tenth I should say now, so we are stuck again. Otherwise, if I could only catch them red-handed landing a cargo, I’d bring them in now we’ve got on to Quex Park, Ash Level, Romney Marshes, Calais and at least one of their London depots.’

  ‘Yes, we’re at a bit of a dead end now,’ Gregory confessed, ‘and the new moon’s due in two days’ time. They’ll stop operations then until the dark period in September unless I’m much mistaken. I’ve a hunch, though, they’ll put another lot of stuff over tonight and on the eleventh so if you get your people to cover their three known landing grounds you ought to be able to catch them at it and capture their fleet tonight or tomorrow night.’

  ‘Well, I’m for bed,’ said the Superintendent. ‘I was up all night last night chasing down into Kent, after Sir Pellinore got on to me to pull the two of you out of the mess you’d landed yourselves in, and you’ve both had a pretty sticky time too. I think we’d best meet again here and talk things over later in the morning. How will eleven o’clock suit you?’

  ‘Fine,’ Gregory agreed. ‘I got in a good sleep today at Ramsgate, but my chest’s still devilish painful from the gruelling I had with that life-line, so a few hours in bed wouldn’t do me any harm. I expect Wells feels much the same way.’

  The Inspector drew himself up but winced as the bandages under his armpits pulled at the raw skin, ‘I’m game to go on,’ he said, ‘but there doesn’t seem anything to go on with at the moment, so I think you’re right, sir. We’d best pack up for the night.’

  A taxi carried Gregory swiftly through the deserted streets to Kensington. It was just four o’clock as he inserted the spare key to the Yard in the side door of No. 272 Gloucester Road and let himself in. The terrifying experience through which he had been had taken a lot out of him and he wearily mounted the stairs covered by their worn carpet.

  In his sitting-room Rudd had left, as usual, drinks and biscuits set out on a tray. He mixed himself a badly needed whisky-and-soda, threw off his coat, and drank it slowly.

  His thoughts had turned to Sabine, The police net was closing upon Lord Gavin’s organisation, She was still at Quex Park sleeping all unperturbed and unconscious, no doubt, of the approaching danger. By telephoning Sir Pellinore on the previous night she had undoubtedly saved the lives of Wells and himself, but how m
uch would the police let that weigh in her favour when they came to pull her in as one of the gang. And what was Wells’s promise worth, when he had said that he would do his best for her, two nights previously, as Gregory had gone overboard from the aeroplane, trusting in the parachute to save his neck.

  The police would have to charge her. They couldn’t avoid doing that; and when she came before a court she would certainly be sentenced. The authorities could do no more than state that she had saved the lives of Wells and himself by giving timely information of their intended murder. It would reduce her sentence very considerably, no doubt, but she would be sentenced all the same, because she had refused to turn King’s evidence when he had asked her to. She would be sent to prison and be faced with a hideous company of female gaol birds. Somehow or other he had got to save her from that.

  For a moment he contemplated getting out his car and running straight down to Quex Park again, throwing the police overboard, telling her everything, and getting her out of the country by aeroplane if necessary, before they decided to arrest her. Yet if he did that, the whole of the police campaign would fall in ruins; all the work and risks taken by Wells and himself would go for nothing.

  That did not matter so much, but the terrible thing was that Lord Gavin would escape and his secret organisation remain unbroken. He would create new bases farther north, perhaps upon the Essex coast, and start the game all over again. Soon, when the time was ripe, agitators and saboteurs would be landing there from his planes to pass unsuspected into the great industrial areas where they would ferment strikes and engineer every sort of trouble. He couldn’t let that happen—just because he was in love. Sabine was at Quex Park and she must take her chance that he would be able to get her out when the police made their general clear up.

  He opened the door of his bedroom. The light behind him was enough for him to see his bed. Upon it, stretched out on the eiderdown, her head buried in the pillows, and sleeping as soundly as a little child was Sabine.

  19

  Joy and Frustration

  Gregory paused there in the doorway staring at her. Then, as though feeling his presence in her sleep, she stirred and, as he stepped forward, her eyes opened.

  ‘So you are here—at last.’ She raised herself on one elbow. ‘I thought that you would never come and I was so tired I dropped off to sleep.’

  He sat down quickly on the bed beside her and took her hands. ‘My dear! How did you get here? Who let you in?’

  ‘That nice man, Rudd. He said you were at Scotland Yard and that he had just sent up a spare key of the house for you. He offered to telephone to say I was here, but I would not let him and, not knowing how long you would be, I sent him back to bed again.’

  A slow smile lit Gregory’s lined face, ‘You can have no possible conception how terribly glad I am to see you.’

  She slid an arm round his shoulders and, pulling herself up, let her cheek rest against his. ‘You are safe, chérie, safe. That is the only thing which matters.’

  ‘Yes, thanks to you, but how did you know they managed to get us out of those devilish sands in time?’

  ‘Sir Pellinore. All last night and all today I have been almost crazy with anxiety. I got out of the Park early this morning, before anybody was up, and telephoned to Carlton House Terrace from the village. Sir Pellinore was away and no one there could tell me where he had gone to. After that, I had no chance to phone again. I dared not do so from the house, in case Gavin cut in on the line, and all through the afternoon he kept me busy, typing out endless sheets of figures for him because, you see, I have acted as his secretary for all his most confidential business. After dinner he made me play backgammon with him and I thought I should go mad trying to conceal my desperate anxiety from those sharp eyes of his. At eleven o’clock we went up to bed and I had to give him a little time to settle down; but by midnight I had crept out of the house again and down to the village. Sir Pellinore was in when I called him up. He told me that you were safe back in London, so I knocked up a garage, hired a car and drove straight here to you.’

  Gregory smiled again, a little bantering smile. ‘Have you come to me for good?’

  ‘Yes, if you want me.’

  ‘Sabine, you know I do! But you mean to cut clear of this Gavin Fortescue business for good and all—don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. You were right about him. I did not know it, because he has always been so good to me, but that man is the devil in human form, I t’ink. Last night, when the Limper telephoned him that you had been caught, he sat there and told me quite calmly what he intended to do with you and the police inspector. I was horrified. Smuggling is one thing but murder another; and what a fiendish mind he must have to conceive such a terrible way of killing his enemies. I determined then that I must get away from him at whatever cost to my mother and myself; yet I had to pretend complete indifference at the time so that he should have no suspicion of my intentions, Immediately he left for Ash Level I telephoned to Sir Pellinore.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘It must have been grim for you, darling. It was grim for us, too; because they didn’t get us out until the very last moment. I really thought our numbers were up.’

  ‘But why? The tide was not low till half past six and I warned Sir Pellinore in ample time.’

  ‘The police wanted Gavin and the Limper to remain under the impression they had done us in; so our rescue was not attempted until the Limper’s boat had got back to land and we were buried up to our armpits in the quicksand. I take it Gavin doesn’t know that we escaped, does he?’

  ‘No, otherwise I am sure he would have spoken of it to me during the day. He seemed to have brushed the whole affair from his mind as though it had never happened; that was what made it so terrible for me. I felt quite certain that I should have heard of it if the police had raided his base at Ash Level. I waited hour after hour on tenterhooks, but no news came and I feared most terribly that something had happened to Sir Pellinore, so that he had been unable to pass my warning on to the police at all.’

  ‘You poor darling; but never mind, we’re safe enough now and it’s the next move we’ve got to consider. Time’s important, so I think, if you’re not feeling too done up, you had best come up to Scotland Yard with me. We’ll get Superintendent Marrowfat out of bed again and you must tell him all you know.’

  She drew quickly away from him. ‘But no! It is impossible for me to do that. To break away from Gavin myself is one thing, but to betray him quite another. How can you ask me to, when you know he saved my mother and me from starvation, and that he has been as generous as any father to me, giving me everything that I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Now listen, Sabine,’ he turned a little and faced her squarely, ‘you’ve got to be sensible about this. I value loyalty myself above any other quality in a man or woman but Gavin Fortescue has placed himself outside the bounds of any decent code. Whatever he may have done for you in the past was done entirely for his own ends. When he saw you first, as a little girl, he had the sense to realise that one day you’d be a very beautiful woman and, even then, you probably showed signs that you’d be a very clever one, too. He realised that by an outlay, which meant nothing to him with his immense wealth, he could forge in you an instrument which would be of the very greatest use in furthering his scheme a few years later; and his foresight has been justified. You’ve already paid him back, more than paid him back, by taking criminal risks which he had no earthly right to expect of you, for every penny he spent on your education or allowed your mother.’

  ‘That may be so, but nothing would induce me to trompé him.’

  ‘But, my darling, you must think of yourself. You don’t seem to realise that you’ve committed yourself to all sorts of criminal actions. The net is closing in on the whole of Gavin’s organisation now. You’ll be arrested with the Limper and the others and charged like any ordinary female crook. The Court will deal lightly with you compared with the others, because you gave information which saved myself and W
ells from death, but they won’t let you off entirely. You’ll be sent to prison, Sabine. Don’t you understand what that means. You can’t, of course, or you’d never hesitate, but for a woman like you it will be a living hell and there’s only one way you can save yourself from that: you’ve got to turn King’s Evidence before the balloon goes up, so the court may use their full discretion in your case.’

  ‘I can’t, I tell you. I will not.’

  ‘Please, Sabine, I beg you to.’

  ‘No, Gregory, no. Whatever he has done, he has also been my friend. If I did as you wish—my self-respect—it would be gone for ever.’

  ‘Then there’s only one thing for it; I’ve got to get you out of England before the police decide to act.’

  ‘That would mean your having to give up your job—no?’

  ‘Oh, to hell with the job! I would have given a lot to be in at the death, when we corner Gavin and the Limper, but that’s a bagatelle compared with your safety.’

  ‘Are there not extradition laws so that they could bring me back?’

  ‘There are, but I don’t think they would apply them. You see, your having saved Wells and myself makes the police reluctant to prosecute you in any case now. It’s only that they’re bound to do so by the law—if they catch you.’

  She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Where could we go?’

  Gregory stood up and, forgetting the abrasions on his chest and back, stretched himself. He grimaced suddenly and lowered his arms. ‘The world’s big enough and there are plenty of places where the two of us could lose ourselves very happily for a time.’

  ‘When—when do we start?’ she asked a little timidly.

  ‘Mid-day will be time enough. Nobody knows you’re here and zero hour for mopping up Gavin’s crowd will certainly not be before tonight. They may even leave him on a string for some days yet; until they’re satisfied they’ve gathered together all the threads of his organisation.’