Black Champagne

by George B Mair

  ‘Except that we’ll do it at a crematorium with minimal ceremony. And since Ferguson won’t know what to believe he’ll have to operate on the assumption that Grant is very much alive. So they’ll expect us to do something, but at least we have the advantage that they don’t know the truth. They can only suspect. But they will still have to re-arrange some of their affairs. Which will mean visits both to South East Asia and St. Thomas if they want to be on the safe side. And that is where Dr Grant might find his chance to make a kill.’

  ‘Such as?’ Admiral Cooper believed in listening to people, but although he had his own ideas as to how affairs would be handled Miss Sidders had a flair for pin-pointing details which mattered. And she was positively influenced by her own emotions . . . although she called them ‘instinct,’ while the Admiral preferred to live without emotions, because jobs like his did better under control of a machine. ‘Suppose,’ he continued, ‘you brief me as to what you expect from Dr Grant and or, other agents at our disposal?’

  She sipped delicately from the slender handled tea cup, touched her lips with a silk handkerchief and ticked off points on one hand. ‘Miss Koren will have been investigated before the end of this week, and Dr Grant likewise. Given that the Doctor comes out of these investigations with his reputation and character intact he ought to be given full Departmental backing to find and destroy the source of these new drugs together with all existing stocks, secure a list of those agents who are using them inside the private houses of world government personnel and finally bring down the U.N.O. man, who clearly must be removed from the world scene at almost any cost.’

  The Admiral lifted a phone. ‘Latest news about the Santé affair. And an up to the second bulletin covering Dr Grant.’

  He hung up and waited. A message would reach him within minutes. Meanwhile what Miss Sidders said made sense even if her priorities were wrong. ‘First,’ he said slowly, ‘we’ll cover Grant and Maya Koren as stated, but after that I would personally place the destruction of the leader as one ultimate priority. And I believe that operations should start on St. Thomas where Grant can put up at Bluebeard’s Castle. It’s the sort of snob place that can be used for quick meetings, and the people we are after won’t be lingering. Though they’ll have to do a deal of reorganising, as you said. But destruction of drugs can follow later. First catch our fish and then, ma’am, we’ll fry him good.’

  The phone rang, and he listened while a long message was also automatically taped for filing. The helicopter had touched down on the cemetery du sud dit du Montparnasse within a minute or two of taking off, and then, with consummate nerve the three men inside had tipped two gravediggers to keep an eye on it while they fetched a mechanic to do some repairs.

  It seemed that they must then have gone straight to the main entrance of the catacombs, entering within a very short distance of la Santé itself at the West Pavilion almost on Place Denfert-Rochereau over which they had flown only one cigarette earlier. Though if so it did seem that Ferguson must have changed into a charcoal grey two-piece with crimson tie and black shoes. It was estimated that they had later surfaced two miles away through an unused exit from the catacombs near the val de Grâce military hospital. It was possible that they had then picked up a taxi on rue Claude Bèrnard, though that was a shade doubtful, but if so they had then been dropped at Notre Dame and entered a grey car with unknown registration.

  Chances were that they had now taken off from an airport and since it was now almost lunch time they could be anywhere—or almost anywhere. Certainly there was no other lead and there were no obvious clues on the helicopter itself. The President had already appointed a committee of enquiry, but there could be few witnesses who mattered since all three executioners had now died. The prison governor was also dead and Professor Juin rated Grant’s survival as due to a combination of miracle plus planning. He had been ordered to wear a thin steel-mesh bullet proof vest at all times and had done so only against his will. But without it he would have died. Even wearing it, a bullet fired at quite close range had ripped his vest near the arm pit and been deflected into the anterior fold of Grant’s left axilla. The affair resembled President Kennedy’s murder at Dallas. He would be fit to leave hospital within two days and return to full duty within seven. His morale, however, was low and he had now been placed under sedation.

  The Admiral hung up and switched off the tape. He then dialled Professor Juin. If Grant was depressed and under sedation he would be an ideal subject for hypnosis—or something. And he wanted a full report on the man’s reliability before coming to any further decisions.

  Miss Sidders nodded agreement. ‘All things considered we had better move fast,’ she said dryly, and then stared doubtfully at an orange light flashing beside the Admiral’s instrument. He hated noise and often used a light signal for the telephone instead of the normal ring. ‘Shall I answer it?’ she said, and without waiting for permission lifted the receiver with one hand while she switched on the tape with the other. The voice at the other end was courteous and pleasant. ‘Ferguson speaking, ma’am. May I have a word with Admiral Cooper?’

  She paused. ‘Sorry. But the Admiral is not available. And who is Mr. Ferguson?’

  The voice sounded more than ever amused. ‘Don’t be silly, Miss Sidders. Now be a good girl and let me have the Admiral. I know that you’re having tea and that he’s right beside you. Or if I’m wrong there will be one more death in your department before morning, because my informant should be spot on. Got me?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. I’m only a junior secretary clearing files on Admiral Cooper’s desk. There is no one else in the room.’

  The voice hardened. ‘You don’t have the voice of a junior secretary. You sound quite elderly.’

  ‘I am elderly. In the sixties. My husband died recently and since my uncle is a cousin of the Minister they found a job for me to help eke out my pension.’

  ‘But your voice sounds English.’

  ‘By birth. Now, and for many years, of French nationality. May I transmit any message?’

  Miss Sidders sensed that the man was off guard, that her bluff was working. ‘I don’t know of any Mr. Ferguson,’ she added, ‘and the Admiral keeps me informed about everything which I’m supposed to know.’

  The voice sounded sceptical. ‘You haven’t heard the name in use today?’

  ‘No, sir. I’ve been on duty since midnight filing reports on homeless children temporarily housed in Saigon after the death of their parents on the delta. It’s quite difficult to understand these foreign names and I’ve been completely occupied at my desk.’

  ‘But you said you were clearing the Admiral’s papers.’

  ‘Yes, sir. And then I go home. It is my last job after every stint of night duty to clear his desk of signed papers.’

  ‘And were there any this morning?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I’m not supposed to say, sir. But this time it won’t matter. One was confirming an appointment with his hairdresser and the other a dinner engagement with a friend from America.’

  ‘You aren’t kidding?’

  Miss Sidders forced herself to sound angry but knew that the entire organisation would now be pin-pointing the call. If she could hold him long enough it might even be possible for someone to get on his tail, even in another country. ‘You aren’t being very polite, sir. And mostly the people who call this office are gentlemen. Real gentlemen who know how to treat a lady. Do you wish to leave a message? Or can I help you?’

  ‘Do you know Dr. David Grant?’

  Her voice sounded more alert. ‘I know his name. They say he is a funny man at times.’

  Ferguson paused. ‘Let it slide. I don’t know what you mean by “funny” but would you let him know that Ferguson phoned to thank him for his help this morning.’

  ‘Anything else, sir?’ She had received a sign from the Admiral, and cost what it may she had to keep him on the line.
The Department was beginning to get results. ‘Just a minute, sir. Admiral Cooper has just come into the room. I’ll hand you over to him.’

  Cooper took the receiver. ‘That you, Ferguson?’

  The voice became loaded with satisfaction. ‘My dear Admiral. How is Grant?’

  ‘Dead.’ Cooper’s voice was dead pan. ‘As are your intended executioners, plus the prison governor, if you care to read the midday editions or wait for radio news flashes. The press are having a heck of a time. Best day for them since the end of the war. And for you, too, I suppose. Congratulations. Even if we are on opposing sides I can at least admire a well organised show. You rate one hundred per cent for sheer audacity plus ruthlessness plus skill. And you’ll be delighted to know that even your marksmen got away from their nests in rue Méchain. So, changing the subject, and now that you’re up to date, what can I do for you?’

  Ferguson sounded amused. ‘Just to save your people work, I’m phoning from Amsterdam. A call box. And I wouldn’t be giving you all this time to locate me if I didn’t know I was safe. So dear David is dead?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Did he leave any message for posterity?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Admiral Cooper.’ The jocular note had disappeared and Cooper sensed a change in atmosphere. ‘My informant tells me that Grant is very much alive and in your own hospital. Tell him that when I catch him I’ll sleep better for knowing I’ve personally certified the body and that he’s under six feet of sod.’

  ‘Grant is dead.’ The Admiral sounded tired. ‘But if you do have an agent here you had better replace him, because he’s falling down on the job.’

  Cooper’s senses were tingling and he knew that Miss Sidders was still on the extension. He also knew that the tape would be played again and again until they had interpreted every variant of tone in the voice, subjected it to voice printing and analysed every inflexion. It was his bet that Ferguson was rattled and now had doubts about his local agent. If so it was time to expand the field of doubt. ‘I’ve just left the man’s bed. He was raving near the end and the only words we could pick out were “why did I do it?” But he died four minutes ago and Juin is doing a post mortem because Grant wanted his kidneys to be preserved for grafting if still in good condition. He also left his eyes to a hospital for the blind in London and his heart for Edinburgh University where he qualified. So there you have it. The rest will be cremated and David Grant’s name will be removed from my files.’

  Ferguson hesitated for the first time. ‘In a way I’m sorry. One bit of me liked him. Envied him possibly, though common sense says he’s better away. But now for the future.’

  The Admiral was non-committal. ‘What of it?’

  ‘I’m not coming back to either France or England and Interpol will never find me. So this is farewell.’

  A message reached Miss Sidders and she scribbled it on a pad.

  Two policemen were already on their way to a call box near Schiphol airport, Amsterdam. They had orders to shoot only if necessary, but to bring Ferguson back at all costs. But they would need at least another three minutes. The Admiral forced himself to be civil. ‘Must have been quite an ordeal?’

  ‘What?’ Ferguson was now alert.

  ‘Waiting to be chopped.’

  ‘I could have done without it,’ Ferguson admitted.

  ‘Though reports say you took it better than most. And now I have something to say. My people are going to get you. They’re going to burst your organisation as they did S.A.T.A.N. and they are going to carry you back to Paris for sentence to be carried out.’

  ‘Then good luck to all of you.’

  ‘One moment before you hang up.’ The Admiral had snapped into his parade-ground voice and he almost felt Ferguson spring to attention.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve lost a good man. David Grant was my dear friend and I won’t stop until I’ve brought you back.’

  ‘I wasn’t his murderer,’ said Ferguson scornfully. ‘Part of the organisation did it.’

  ‘So I’m going to break your organisation.’

  ‘Plus what else? My plane takes off shortly but it’s interesting to listen. You sound as though I’d really got under your skin.’

  ‘I know that your H.Q. is somewhere in the Middle East. So I’m going to comb the place until I find it.’

  Cooper looked at his watch. The police should arrive at almost any time, and there was even a sporting chance that the Department had laid on a second string from Schiphol itself.

  ‘One last word, Ferguson,’ he said. And then he heard two muffled shots as Ferguson suddenly broke off. There was a rattle of gun fire for a few seconds and then a voice rasped in his ear.

  ‘Ferguson still here. Your men are dead. Do you think I’d have been crazy enough to make this call without being covered? But I’ll still manage take-off because the bodies have already been whipped into a van and no one seems to know what has happened.’ His voice changed tone and the Admiral knew he was going to hang up. ‘My final curtain, Admiral. Next time both you and your secretary will go the same way as Grant. So make the most of whatever time may be left. We can also move pretty fast.’

  Cooper heard the receiver click back into position and then marked a gleaming spark glint from an upper window on the opposite side of the road. He seized Miss Sidders round the legs and literally threw her to the carpet behind his heavy oak desk as glass showered around him and an explosion rocked the room. A fragment of glass scratched his forehead above the right eye and he felt blood trickle down his face. But he knew that the desk had saved them, and he moved only to glance at the woman lying beneath him.

  She had paled, but her eyes were alert and her voice steady. ‘Maybe they’ll send a second one for luck, sir. Let’s wait a minute or two before we move.’

  Cooper glanced at his watch and allowed three minutes to pass before he slowly stood up. The place was in ruins. But at least they were alive. And that was still the only thing which mattered.

  The windows opposite were now gleaming normally in the sunlight, and Cooper realised that only a sudden reflection of light against metal had given that split second warning which had saved their lives. A small rocket had been fired from a hundred yards or more, yet he knew that every property surrounding the office was vetted quarterly and that Records would rate every tenant above suspicion. But someone had still broken the cordon and pulled off a minor coup. Nor could he say for certain from which window the thing had been fired. There were several possibilities, and the whole incident had been over in less than two seconds. Possibly in less than one. It would be pointless trying to pin-point the property, but as a routine the whole scheme of things would have to be reappraised, though it was his own bet that it would be a waste of time. Ferguson’s people and Sir John Smith were too clever to slip up on detail.

  Miss Sidders had been watching him curiously while he stared at the wreckage of the room. ‘Don’t you think it might be a good idea to pretend that we were really killed?’ she said.

  Cooper nodded briefly. ‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd that no one has arrived to see what happened? Yet that shell made a helluva noise. Where is everybody?’

  The woman hesitated, and for the first time in her life felt a tingle of real fear. ‘We’ll find out later, sir,’ she said at last. ‘But maybe we should move. The emergency exit I think. And then we disappear. Shall we use Plan Two?’

  The Admiral thought fast. Plan Two meant a major fire, total destruction of the flat and escape by a tunnel into property several blocks away. From there a covered commercial van entered from an inside garage would go to Dijon where an expert would take over, altering both features and personality before taking them in another van to Lyons where they would separate, using two cars which would again rendezvous in Geneva where they would enplane as an elderly American couple en route for Hong Kong and a well organised Far East H.Q.

  Plan Two also meant using two bodies which were always kept near the e
ntrance to the get-away exit and which were as near as possible in bone structure to both Miss Sidders and himself. Plan Two, in fact, was pretty drastic, but very comprehensive and he had never believed that the time might come when they would have to use it. But both Professor Juin and David Grant had insisted.

  The bodies were generally taken from unclaimed stores in the city morgue and a staff dentist saw to it that dental procedures were carried out to tally precisely with the dental history of both Miss Sidders and himself. The subjects were then kept in a refrigerator and normally lasted up to six months. He detested the whole project, but had humoured his staff, and now, for the first time, he was satisfied with fore-thought which might lead to survival, if nothing else. Only one thing bothered him. Had other people in the building been killed or simply knocked out by gas?

  Miss Sidders turned towards the bookcase. ‘Does it matter? That United Nations man is dangerous and clearly comes first. Firemen can rescue any survivors. But let’s move, sir.’

  The bookcase was already pivoting noiselessly as she swiftly fingered the ‘combination’ built into drawer handles. And as it swung round to reveal a flight of steps she pointed to a grey metal refrigerator. ‘First these bodies and then the napalm.’

  The Admiral opened a small panel in the rear of the bookcase and checked that the napalm was present and correct. He then opened the refrigerator door. Miss Sidders’ face became set and was suddenly older as she saw the two stiff corpses inside, the woman dressed in clothes which had once been bought in Southampton, and the man grotesque under particles of ice which clung to a thick tweed suit tabbed Hawes and Curtis, Dover Street, London.

  Together they lifted the couple out and laid them on the floor.

  Napalm was set between them but the fuse had been so contrived by Professor Juin that no expert would ever detect it. And they both knew that every expert in Paris would soon be on the scene once the fire had been controlled.