Death's Foot Forward

by George B Mair

  ‘But I might have gone by car. Or even by train or ship.’ The man’s smug self-complacency was infuriating.

  ‘Agreed,’ nodded Chang, ‘but it seemed to me that speed would be important, and on balance I didn’t see you wasting a day or more in crossing the Soviet Union when rumour said that you were not now a popular guest.’

  ‘What rumour?’

  ‘You once hinted that you had a personal feud with some “high-up” or other in Russia, and that being so I felt that you were unlikely to linger during any stage of your work. No, Doctor, everything pointed to an aircraft, and once again my deductions were accurate. But I have great confidence in my own estimate of any situation and it didn’t seem likely that a man of even your talents could quietly rob a Kremlin office and murder a top-rank official without stirring up a hornet’s nest. So naturally I deduced that you would be forced to contact one of the names I had given you, and that being so it seemed wise for me to be in the vicinity.’

  ‘Surely easier said than done,’ drawled Grant, squeezing Maya’s hand in the darkness and snuggling against the warm length of her thigh.

  ‘Simply a question of method,’ replied Chang. ‘But, of course, one had to be careful about details. This Intourist guide-interpreter business makes it impossible for a man to enter or leave the country other than “through the proper channels”. It is quite foolproof. No loopholes left for people like ourselves to use at a time like this.’

  ‘I believe I’m an engineer,’ said Grant curtly. ‘And I take it you are the owner of the ship which is said to have broken down off Yalta. Would you care to fill in the details?’

  Chang carefully balanced a pinch of snuff on his thumb-nail whilst the car leapt into the long line of darkness ahead. ‘My plan is simple, and to date it has worked like a charm in spite of this young lady arriving to complicate matters. In short, when your booking was confirmed for April 1st I arranged for one of my own ships, the vessel you boarded at Grimsby, in fact, to call at Yalta on a perfectly legitimate trading mission three or four days earlier. I also arranged a tourist trip from it through the Ukraine to Moscow, using my own car, which is always carried by any of my vessels when I am abroad. And naturally I brought my own chauffeur, the very reliable man who is now driving. We left Yalta on March 26th and had a most enjoyable holiday in the company and care of a charming young woman, our official guide-interpreter, who spoke excellent Cantonese and also passable English. Very clever really, I often wonder how these Russians do it.

  ‘We arrived in Moscow on March 31st and they put me up at the Hotel Moskva. But next day I telephoned my local agents and instructed them to prepare for action. I also ordered them to communicate with me at once in the event of any of them hearing from you, so I was naturally delighted when you made contact. But my agent said you sounded rather excited and that you seemed to be expecting trouble on the following night, which gave me almost twenty-four hours to prepare a possible line of escape.

  ‘That evening I spoke to my ship per telephone, and using code instructed the captain to put a certain pre-arranged plan into operation next morning. Naturally he did so. The ship was officially cleared and Formosa Lily sailed out of Yalta harbour at midday today. But, she developed a mechanical defect whilst still inside the three-mile limit and received official permission to drop anchor for repairs. Shortly afterwards the captain sent me a cable explaining matters and asking for help. The cable reached me in the later afternoon and I immediately went with my guide to the most senior Intourist official available, a certain Comrade Alexander Rogov, to explain my predicament and ask for a change of arrangements. Intourist at once agreed that we return to Yalta, and Rogov even telephoned through to various eating places on the way to advise them as to our probable hour of arrival. In fact, a great deal was done to ease the journey, but when everything had been settled to my own satisfaction I suggested delaying matters for a few hours on the off-chance that my engineers would manage to put things right without any need to alter my itinerary . . . which had already been paid for in advance. Rogov, of course, appreciated the wisdom of this and we then agreed that if no word had come through by midnight I would leave with our guide for the south and motor direct to Yalta, stopping at Tula for a snack, at Kharkov for late breakfast, Zaporozhe for late luncheon and with the hope of being aboard ship at Yalta for dinner. Almost twenty hours, say, to cover close on eight hundred motoring miles, but with a fast car, good roads and very little traffic all the way.’

  ‘What happened to your guide?’ asked Grant, remembering Chang’s direct methods of dealing with problems.

  ‘All in good time, Doctor,’ said Chang. ‘All in good time. I then asked Rogov to dine with me and flatter myself that the gesture won his complete confidence. Being in a communist country, of course, my chauffeur could not join us, but Rogov and the guide shared my table until shortly after eight o’clock when I became restless, suggested that there was little point in waiting longer and that it might be as well to prepare for the long run south. The guide then cleared up details with the cash-desk and I paid my small account for extras whilst they got my baggage down into the car. Rogov waved farewell and that was that.

  ‘Unfortunately, however, the young lady became difficult when our car swung away towards my antique shop from the normal route, and we had to deal with her rather severely. In fact she is probably still unconscious, but at least she is alive, and when I reached my agent’s house we simply bandaged her eyes, gagged her and left her under guard to await developments.

  ‘Your own lady friend arrived most unexpectedly about an hour later and I was absurdly relieved to receive back my snuff-box. It is really quite valuable. Indeed, that was my one consolation when she made it necessary to rearrange my campaign because from what she said I guessed that there would soon be an all-out police check round the city so it seemed wise to get clear of the place and rendezvous with you in the country. I also decided to use your young lady as a substitute guide, should that be necessary, or as your wife if that should be preferable. One or other according to circumstances, and since we always keep a good supply of Chinese clothes and documents at the antique shop this enabled her to change into garments more suitable to her new rôle than the filthy rags she was wearing on arrival.

  ‘We then removed our official guide’s identity papers and so forth, selected appropriate passports and hoped that you would forgive us for obliging you to travel as man and wife.

  ‘The rest you know. I drove off with your friend and decided to give you a full hour before pressing on. But since this car carries highly sensitive radio equipment, and since your charming sweetheart is half-Russian, we were able to pick up all radio messages in the district and more or less keep fully posted as to how matters were shaping. It seems that there has been a good deal of confusion, but just shortly before you arrived a call went out to ring the city with check-points and I must say we were all extremely satisfied when my man delivered you safely at the garage.’

  ‘But what happens when we reach Yalta?’ asked Grant slowly, admiring, in spite of himself, Chang’s slick getaway.

  ‘We report to the police. Alexander Rogov has already telephoned them of our impending arrival and my launch will be waiting for us from the ship. We shall ask the police to come aboard and have a drink, and, if nothing else, the pleasure of a moonlight run in a fast motor-boat. The guide-interpreter would not normally be allowed such liberties, but since we shall be leaving this car on shore, and since we have already booked our hotel, since Rogov had phoned and made everything official, and since the police will also be invited I do not think there should be any problem about getting permission to take the young lady with us. But once on board it will be a simple matter to get rid of the police, lift anchor and steal away. My ship is specially tuned and we shall make a dash at 23 knots into Turkish waters on the south side of the Black Sea where we ought to be safe before suspicions are aroused in any place which matters. By which time, of course, it will be too l
ate to do anything, and we shall shortly afterwards drop anchor at the mouth of the Golden Horn having successfully completed a very delicate mission. So now, Doctor,’ continued Chang, ‘suppose you give me the ampoule which your friend tells me you were able to remove from Professor Gusev’s study. You can fill in details later. It is enough for me that the man is dead and his laboratories burned, that his records have also been lost and that you have secured a sample of the germs. Hand them over, please.’

  Grant squeezed Maya’s hand and gently nudged her foot in the darkness. ‘Sorry. But it can’t be done.’ His voice was very final. ‘My contract was made with three men, not with one alone and unless you can produce a written authorisation signed by your two partners I shall hold on to it.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Chang’s manner was frigidly formal. ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘Sure,’ snapped Grant. ‘I’m just a stickler for red tape and I don’t remember anybody suggesting that you were going to play delivery boy. As a British subject I’d also feel happier handing this little lot over to the British member of your team and then let him decide what happens to it.’

  ‘Very well. But can you reassure me that the thing is safe.’

  ‘Completely. In fact it is lying at our feet inside the bag which Maya was carrying when you met her.’

  Chang made to bend down and as his hand fastened over the grip Grant rapped him smartly on the knuckles. ‘Better left alone. This is a rather special bag made for me by an explosives expert and anyone who messes about with it is liable to be blown up unless he knows the trick of disconnecting various fuses.’

  ‘I see.’ Chang’s face was gleaming like parchment in the moonlight, his sleek black hair blending with the shadows behind the back seat and the gold of his front teeth glinting wickedly as he half-smiled and lay back again amongst his furs. ‘What a very careful man you are, David Grant. But doesn’t this suggest that you don’t trust me very much?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Grant agreed, as he stretched out luxuriously and laid his head on Maya’s shoulder, preparing to sleep. ‘I don’t trust anybody. And that’s why I’ll hand this over only in England and only in the company of all three men who hired me to get it.’

  ‘Perhaps you are wise,’ said Chang easily, ‘but you must understand my enthusiasm. These germs might have enslaved the entire Free World. Surely I’ve earned my right at least to see them.’

  ‘Sure,’ murmured Grant sleepily. ‘And so you will. But in London. When the others are there. You’re a big boy, sir, old enough to have learned patience.’

  As he eased himself into sleep his feet lay across the bag, guarding its handle whilst the black countryside slipped past his eyes at seventy miles an hour and the great car cut a swathe of brilliant light into the flat lands ahead. Maya was already dozing and Chang had folded his arms, his thin lips framing a half-smile as he sat like some enigmatic Buddha remote in a world of his own.

  Grant’s every instinct told him as a last thought that the biggest trouble of all still lay ahead. Chang was dangerous.

  Chapter Seventeen – Life after death

  Grant wakened up as the car slithered to a halt outside a state restaurant in Tula. The place was desolate and only a few lights burned in the dining-room.

  ‘This is where you go into action, young lady,’ said Chang quietly. ‘We are expected, so there should be nothing to worry about. Just lead us straight inside, speak to the waiter on duty and order food. There is only one weak point in our armour. Officially my party does not include Mr. John Brown, but if any questions are asked his papers are in perfect order and you can say that Intourist agreed to his coming at the last moment.’

  Maya’s eyes were bleary with sleep and she rubbed her face with Chang’s perfumed spirit water before tiptoeing across a strip of muddy ground towards the dark oblong building where everything went smoothly. Coffee was waiting and whilst they munched cheese sandwiches Chang’s chauffeur filled the tanks with 60 octane petrol, the best available. The meal ended with a bowl of hard apples and a slab of solid ice-cream. Maya handed over food vouchers and Chang tipped the waiter heavily as they returned to the car. ‘Splendid,’ he smiled. ‘You did very well. Good practice for Kharkov.’

  The long steppe lands bored with monotony as they swept towards a desolate Ukraine, but at Kharkov, just across the border, the sun was already warm. Northern chill was being replaced by a smell of the south and spring blossoms were bursting in the public parks. Chang had slept for most of the way, but for hours on end Grant and Maya had whispered together, piecing the blanks of their story and rehearsing drill for arrival at Yalta. The girl was now living on the last shreds of nervous energy, her pupils dilated into great blue-black saucers as she relived the Kremlin dramas, and her fingers trembling with reaction unless they were buried in the grip of Grant’s own hand. But she seemed to gather strength from physical contact and at Kharkov played her part with a high spirited excitement which was new to him. The three-quarter hour stop passed without incident. Grant even found time for a quick shave in a barber’s shop and hated the sight of himself every time he caught a glimpse of his cheap-jack Singapore rig-out in a mirror.

  It was late afternoon when they got a first glimpse of the Sea of Azov, its clean, clear blueness shimmering under a mellow sun. ‘Nearly there,’ muttered Grant, easing his stiff limbs and trying to find a comfortable spot on which to sit. Every muscle was aching and he would have paid fifty pounds for a five-mile walk. The car was fuggy with hot air from a heater which Chang refused to switch off, and ten hours of almost chain-smoking had killed appetite. It had required only the greasy soup and tough chicken of Zaporozhe to turn their stomachs completely, and the fresh beauty of a Crimean spring burst upon them like a tonic so that even Chang wriggled out of his furs, the heater was finally switched off and the windows opened to let in a stream of air heavy with the scent of fruit blossom.

  It was darkening when Yalta swept into view, its lights nestling amongst florid palm tress and rich gardens along a tranquil stretch of the Black Sea. In the distance Chang pointed out the faint outline of a ship. ‘Formosa Lily,’ he said. ‘And now for the police. You must translate, young lady. Try to avoid any phone calls to Moscow reporting that we have arrived safely, but if a call does become unavoidable use your own voice and make the message short. “Arrived safely and all well”, sort of thing. We don’t want any hitches at the last moment. And bear in mind that we are asking one or two of the police to join us. Say I’ve been grateful for help given whilst in Russia and that is my way of showing thanks. Explain that my launch is rather exciting, with a good turn of speed and very comfortable. Being communists they’ll want to play with a capitalist toy. And when we get aboard ship leave everything to me. My men have been well drilled and know exactly what to do. But finally, if there is any suspicion on the part of anyone drop a gentle hint reminding them that this car is still on shore and can be regarded as a sort of security against our return.’

  Maya nodded impatiently. They had gone over all this before. As the car drew up at a police-station near the berth where Chang’s launch was lying she almost ran up the steps into the office. Ten minutes later she returned with two smiling officers who saluted gravely, looked at Chang’s passport and glanced off-handedly at Grant’s as he sat in the back seat trying to look like a servant. ‘The police are delighted to accept your invitation,’ she said. ‘So it will be in order for us all to go out to the ship. I have also telephoned Intourist in Moscow that we arrived safely.’

  Taking the hint Chang motioned his police escort into the front seat beside the driver and the car turned towards the launch, parking alongside near the custom’s house whilst Chang led the way to the motor-boat, one hand resting affectionately on a policeman’s arm and the other pointing towards Formosa Lily whilst Maya translated.

  The police were sympathetic. They must all be tired after such a long trip. It was hard luck having to interrupt a holiday because of engine trouble. Where had the ship b
een built? America? England? Soviet ships rarely gave trouble. Next time the gentleman might like to order from a Soviet yard.

  The cabin was large enough to hold everyone and Chang watched inscrutably as his two seamen edged the sleek little craft round the hull of a Rumanian cruising vessel into the open sea, but once clear of traffic they gave her full throttle and the spreading V of a high bow wave raised a cloud of silvery foam which seemed dappled with phosphorescence as the fragile hull surged into a breath-taking leap towards the darkness ahead.

  Grant was sitting motionless, his attaché case gripped firmly between his feet and one hand resting against the small lump which still pressed against his heart. The ampoule was still safe, but God help them all if it got broken! He watched Maya with admiration as she stood, slightly apart from Chang, translating as he told story after story about his run to Moscow. The police were relaxed, swinging to the rhythm of the launch and enjoying every minute of the trip. It was a perfect night, the sky thick with stars and a golden moon darting in and out behind high scudding clouds. Formosa Lily was less than a dozen yards ahead when the motor was cut and the craft veered in a tight swing towards the foot of the gangway.

  ‘After you, gentlemen,’ said Chang politely, and pointed to the stewards waiting to help them jump off the swaying hull on to the gangway.

  It was all over quickly. As each policeman stepped on to the deck a polite steward escorted him towards the owner’s suite. Chang followed at their heels and as they entered it the ship’s bosun knocked them unconscious with an expertly wielded sandbag. ‘You see, Doctor,’ said Chang thinly, ‘there is nothing like good organisation to overcome difficulties. And now it is a simple case of upping anchor and away.’

  ‘Not forgetting, of course, shore radar cover which will be keeping a polite but watchful eye on you,’ drawled Grant. ‘If I were you I’d think twice before moving or else we’ll be strafed to glory by a couple of M.I.G.s before we can even see Turkey.’