The Quest

by Christopher Nicole

  “Thank you.”

  She bit her lip. “What are you going to do?”

  “Find her, I hope.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Almost as if that hadn’t occurred to her. Or, like everyone else, she thought it was hopeless. “If there is anything I can do to help . . .”

  “I’m afraid there isn’t, Julia.”

  “Oh. Well . . .” she hesitated, gazing at him, willing him to take a step towards her, then realising that he wasn’t going to. “I’d better be getting along.”

  *

  Christmas was a very doleful affair, because by then it had become obvious that Anna was not coming back.

  Berkeley continued with his work, compiling the report on Germany. But it was also hateful work, as he constantly considered that if he had been in England, instead of Munich or Berlin, this might never have happened. Only to reflect that if it was going to happen, it would have done so whether he was here or not, if Anna was taking country walks by herself.

  It was early in the new year, and the German report was finished and ready to be delivered, that a letter arrived.

  Berkeley stared at the Serbian stamps; the postmark was Belgrade.

  He slit the envelope and scanned the words: You took our father, we take your daughter. Why don’t you come and get her? I.

  Berkeley sat absolutely still for several seconds. That possibility had simply not occurred to him. He had found it convenient to forget all about Irene Karlovy and her siblings; how could three teenage children harm Berkeley Townsend?

  They couldn’t, by themselves. Certainly they could never have organised something like this. Magrich? But Magrich had never given any indication that he possessed either the brain or the money to travel clear across Europe, study the habits of a young girl, and then kidnap or murder her. Therefore . . . he snapped his fingers. IMRO. Savos had suggested they might have links with IMRO. But as he had seen no evidence of it, he had forgotten about that too.

  He was aware of a white-hot anger bubbling through his arteries. He was a man whose life had been conditioned to violence, to a continual survival of the fittest, and he had always been that. Now . . .

  He summoned Lockwood, showed him the letter, told him his suspicions . . .

  Lockwood gave a low whistle. “The bastards.” He looked up. “You going back?”

  “Yes.”

  Lockwood looked at the letter again. “This could be a trap.”

  “Of course it’s a trap, Harry. One that I am going to break wide open.”

  “What I meant was, they could have murdered her, and still sent this letter.”

  “That is something we will have to find out. It doesn’t alter the fact that we now know who did it.”

  Lockwood chewed his lip. “If she’s alive . . .”

  “Don’t say it, Harry. Don’t even think it. Look, you don’t have to come with me. I may be gone a long time.”

  “Of course I will come with you, Berkeley,” Lockwood said. “You will surely need a back-up if you’re going to mess with something like IMRO. You think Savos will help?”

  “That,” Berkeley said, “is something we are going to have to find out.”

  He left Lockwood to pack their bags, and went into Northampton.

  “Why, Colonel Townsend,” Inspector Watt said. “A happy New Year to you. Well, I suppose it won’t be a happy one, at that.”

  “No,” Berkeley said. “But it is going to be an active one. We have been making a mistake, Watt. We have assumed the kidnapping of my daughter was a local affair, or at least confined within England. But I have reason to believe she was taken abroad.” He showed the policeman the letter.

  Watt scratched his head. “You know this person, I?”

  Berkeley nodded. “It stands for a young woman named Irene Karlovy. I shot her father.”

  Watt gulped. “You mean . . .”

  “It was self-defence, inspector.”

  “Yes, sir.” Watt did not sound convinced. “Well, this puts a whole different complexion on things, eh?”

  “Yes, it does. I want you to check the seaports.”

  “With respect, Colonel, the little girl was taken over a month ago. I don’t think we’ll pick anything up now. And if these people are merely out for revenge, well . . .”

  “They could just as easily have murdered her here in England before returning to Serbia themselves. I appreciate that. But I have a gut feeling they didn’t do that. A sighting of Anna at a seaport would confirm that.”

  “You realise, sir, that you are suggesting she went of her own free will? I mean, a young girl being taken on to a cross-Channel ferry under, shall I say, duress, would certainly have been reported, if the people responsible weren’t arrested on the spot.”

  “I accept that she may have been tricked into accompanying her kidnapper,” Berkeley said. “She is very pro-Serb, and this person may have been very attractive, or suggested something attractive. To do with Serbia.”

  Or to do with her mother, he thought savagely. Perhaps he should have been more open about that. But as he had thought so often before, how do you tell an eleven-year-old girl that her mother committed suicide after being tortured by the Austrian police.

  “Well, sir,” Watt said. “I will get on to all the port authorities, as you wish. But I can’t be optimistic.”

  “I don’t expect you to,” Berkeley said. “You may forward the report to the War Office.”

  “The War Office,” Watt said thoughtfully. “But not to you, personally, at your parents’ house.”

  “I shan’t be there,” Berkeley said.

  *

  “But, if it’s a trap . . .” Alicia Townsend squeezed her son’s hand.

  “I’ve been invited into traps before,” Berkeley said.

  “What about the children?” John Townsend asked. “The other children? Do you think I should hire a private detective, or someone like that, for protection?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Berkeley said. “This organisation isn’t that big. It has carried out its immediate objective, which is to lure me back to the Balkans. It won’t be coming back after the other children.”

  “But . . .” Alicia bit her lip.

  Berkeley kissed her. “If I don’t come back, you mean? I’ll come back, Mother. I always do.”

  “Why are you going away again so soon, Father?” John junior asked.

  “I’m going to fetch Anna,” Berkeley told him.

  *

  Maria was tearful. “You go back again,” she sobbed against Lockwood’s chest. “You will be killed. This time you will be killed.”

  The two children stood behind their mother, eyes wide.

  “I haven’t been killed yet,” Lockwood pointed out.

  “But this time they will be waiting for you . . .”

  “No, no, my sweet child. This time we will be waiting for them.”

  *

  “Hm,” Gorman commented, studying the letter. “Hm.”

  “I will require leave of absence,” Berkeley said. “For three months, with a possible extension of another three.”

  “Hm,” Gorman said.

  “If I cannot be granted leave,” Berkeley went on. “I am prepared to resign.”

  “My dear fellow, we wouldn’t like that. I do not think it will be possible to grant you six months leave of absence, but I think it is entirely practical for us to send you back to the Balkans on an assignment.”

  “I am returning to the Balkans to find my daughter,” Berkeley said.

  “Of course, Berkeley, of course. I entirely understand. But as a matter of fact, this fits well with our requirements. After you returned the last time, I did some investigating, about the IMRO lot. You know their background?”

  “That they began as a patriotic movement aimed at making the Turkish hold on Macedonia untenable, yes. However, since the defeat of Turkey in both the Balkan Wars and the Great War, and their failure to obtain independence from Serbia, they have turned to ou
tright terrorism.”

  “Exactly. They are also, apparently, working with the Bulgarian government to destabilise the region. As I am sure you have realised, Bulgaria is the fly in the Balkan ointment. She joined with Greece and Serbia to fight Turkey in 1912, then found, when the Turks had been beaten, that her share of the spoils wasn’t as big as she had presumed would be the case. So she went to war with Greece and Serbia to realise her claims.”

  “I fought in both those wars,” Berkeley said.

  “Quite. And as you also know, the Bulgarians, thoroughly disgruntled by all of those failures, joined the Central Powers in the War, and again got thoroughly beaten. Now they are having to come to terms with the fact that this new country Wilson has created, which hasn’t even got a proper name yet, but which is composed almost entirely of hereditary enemies of Bulgaria, is going to be the largest and most powerful state in the Balkans. You can’t really blame them for being unhappy about this. So they are determined to stir up as much trouble as they can, and this IMRO bunch are a willing weapon. Any information that you can bring us back on them will be much appreciated. And of course, if by any chance they were to be destabilised and perhaps put out of business . . .”

  “I’m not a miracle worker,” Berkeley said.

  “Maybe not. But you are just about the most efficient agent provocateur I have ever known. Just to make it all proper and above board, I would like you to send in monthly reports, observations, that kind of thing.”

  Berkeley considered. “If I am working for the government, on what I’m sure you’ll agree is a highly dangerous assignment, I would like permission to requisition certain items of equipment, which I feel may be essential to my success. Or indeed, my survival.”

  “You will have carte blanche, but we would like you to come back alive . . . and hopefully, with your daughter. Remembering that these people have already tried to kill you.”

  *

  “Do you reckon we are being followed?” Berkeley asked Lockwood, as they lunched.

  “No,” Lockwood said. “In the first place I would have noticed, and in the second, there is no reason for it. These people will know the risk is too great trying to get at you here; if they discounted that, they’d have just come after you, not kidnapped Anna to draw you after them.”

  “Good thinking,” Berkeley said. “So, they will hope to pick us up the moment we reach Serbia.”

  “Well, they should find that a bit difficult to do. Certainly if we stay away from Colonel Savos.”

  “But Savos is the key,” Berkeley said. “He is our best bet for finding them. I think our first objective must be to reach Belgrade, and Savos, before anyone knows we’re there. That means using the old route through Greece.”

  “It would be quicker to take the train across Europe to Budapest. Then down to Belgrade.”

  “Agreed. But that will mean passing through several frontiers with the risk of our baggage being searched. There is also the point that if we use the old cover of being on our way to Balaton to hunt, we should get off the train before we reach the Serbian border. Then there is the fact that since the fall of this Bela Kun character, who seems to have been slightly more red than Lenin, Hungary appears to be in a state of the most utter chaos. And fourthly, that is precisely the route these people will expect us to use.”

  “That all makes sense,” Lockwood agreed. “But what about Anna?”

  “Anna has been in these people’s hands for three months, if she’s alive. I don’t think another couple of days is going to make all that much difference.”

  Lockwood sighed. His employer’s total lack of nerves was sometimes unnerving. “You say you didn’t want our bags inspected too closely. What will we be carrying?”

  “I’ve been given permission to take whatever I require. So, we are going to turn in our service revolvers for two of the new Browning automatics; they carry more firepower. Then we are going to get a new shotgun for you, and a high-velocity rifle for me. Something with a telescopic sight.”

  “Your best bet would be a Mauser hunting rifle.”

  “That is exactly it. And lastly, we need a box of grenades. Six will do.”

  “Grenades?”

  “These people may take some stopping.”

  Lockwood scratched his head. “Tell me something: are we going to find Anna? Or avenge her?”

  “That,” Berkeley said, “depends entirely on what Savos has to tell us.”

  *

  “Berkeley?” Savos was clearly utterly surprised. “Lockwood? I thought you were not coming back? Martina, schnaps.”

  The pretty dark-haired girl fussed, and glasses were presented.

  “Well,” Berkeley said, “you have not succeeded in selling my house yet, have you?”

  “Sadly, no. But there is interest.”

  “Good. I have not returned about the house.” Berkeley put the letter on the desk.

  Savos peered at it. He spoke English, but only read it with difficulty. “My God,” he said, when he had finished. “The child . . .”

  “Has disappeared,” Berkeley said.

  “That lovely child . . . I remember her well. And you think she is in Serbia?”

  “It’s likely. That letter was mailed in Belgrade.”

  “But that Karlovy girl . . . she had no money, no friends . . .”

  “She had friends, Savos. Those men at the house in Sabac, for a start. What did you do with her?”

  “As I said, we gave her a caning, and threw her out. Is that not what you wanted?”

  “Did you not keep an eye on her?”

  “My dear Berkeley, I have not that many men. The girl was nothing, so far as we were aware. I assumed she had gone back to prostitution. But this . . . what are you going to do about it?”

  “I came here to find my daughter. Or avenge her.” Berkeley gave the colonel several copies of the photograph. “Can you have these circulated amongst your people, border guards, immigration officers, to find out if any of them remembers her entering the country at any time since Christmas?”

  “Of course I will do that, Berkeley. But . . . it is a very long shot. After three months.”

  “Is it possible Irene Karlovy is still in Belgrade?”

  “Certainly it is possible.”

  “Can you find her?”

  “I will have inquiries made. If she is here, we will find her, yes. But . . . do you think she knows you are here?”

  “If she doesn’t, she soon will. You have a mole in your department.”

  “A mole?”

  “Someone who leaks information.”

  “You think one of my men . . .”

  “Oh, come now, Savos. Your people have been leaking information for years. Anna Slovitza always knew exactly what you were going to do next, and when you were going to do it. And you knew that.”

  “Well,” Savos said, somewhat sulkily. “I will have to find this man. However, if she knows you are in Belgrade, then she will try to kill you.”

  “Or someone will, on her behalf. I take it you will have no objection if I shoot first?”

  “Of course not. These people are thugs.”

  “Right. But shooting a would-be assassin is not going to find my Anna.”

  “If we pick up Irene Karlovy, we will find out where your daughter is being kept. But . . . that is, if she is being kept anywhere. She may well be dead. You understand this?”

  “I understand that,” Berkeley said. “Then I want her kidnappers and her murderers.”

  Savos nodded, but he also looked grave. “This could be a big business.”

  “It already is, from my point of view. Now tell me about IMRO.”

  Savos frowned. “You think IMRO is involved?”

  “Whoever kidnapped Anna had to have quite an organisation at his disposal,” Berkeley said. “Money, for a start. People who can write English. Entry into England for at least one, perhaps two or more people. Passages from England back here, whether across the continent or by ship. The
re is no way this can have been set up by a teenage prostitute.”

  “That is very true,” Savos said thoughtfully. “But IMRO . . . if they are involved it is even bigger than I thought.”

  “Come now, Savos, you must know who their leaders are? Their agents here in Belgrade?”

  “I am afraid I do not,” Savos said.

  Berkeley had known this sinister police chief long enough to know when he was lying. But challenging him would be counter-productive; he needed his help.

  “Right,” he said. “Then we’ll start with the girl. And Magrich. Do you know where he is?”

  “He disappeared after your shoot-out with Karlovy.”

  “Savos, that was seven years ago. Magrich is not the sort of man to keep out of trouble.”

  “I agree with you. But think of those seven years, Berkeley. Four of them were spent at war. People disappeared. Magrich is probably dead. If he tried any of his tricks while the northern half of Serbia was ruled by the Austrians, he would certainly have been executed. Certainly there has been no word of him here in Belgrade since my return. Was he one of the men who attacked you in Sabac?”

  “No,” Berkeley said. “Had he been, I would have shot him.”

  Savos grinned. “You should have shot him when you shot Karlovy.”

  “I am beginning to feel that way about a good many people,” Berkeley said. “Very well, Savos, I will leave it to you to find Irene Karlovy.”

  “While you do what?”

  “Lockwood and I are going to take rooms at the Grand, and have a little holiday. Who knows, we might even go down to Sabac and look at the house.”

  “What names are you using?”

  “Our own.”

  “Are you attempting to commit suicide?”

  “I am attempting to make contact with the people who kidnapped my daughter. As I don’t know how to go to them, I have to invite them to come to me. After all, they suggested I come back.”

  “Do you require police protection?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Berkeley said. “And it might scare them off. Just find me that girl.”

  *

  “How will it happen, do you reckon?” Lockwood asked, standing to one side of the hotel bedroom window and looking down at the street. “A single shot from a good rifle?”