Circus

by Alistair MacLean

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ Her voice was almost a whisper. ‘I just don’t believe what I’ve seen.’

  ‘I can hardly believe it myself – and I’ve seen it a hundred times. First impressions can be wrong, no?’

  ‘Just how wrong.’

  Half an hour later she was with Henry just outside the dressing-room area when Bruno emerged, dressed in street clothes. He was back to his old, relatively unimpressive self. He stopped, smiled at her, and said: ‘I saw you at the show.’

  ‘Blindfolded?’

  ‘On the low wire. On the bicycle.’

  She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Doing that impossible act? You have time to look round the audience?’

  ‘I have to have something to occupy my attention,’ he said with mock bravado. ‘Enjoy it all?’ She nodded and he smiled again. ‘Even The Blind Eagles? I’m only searching for compliments, of course.’

  Maria looked at him without smiling, pointed upwards and said: ‘A star has fallen from the sky.’ She turned and walked away. From the slight corrugation of Bruno’s brow it was impossible to tell whether he was puzzled or amused.

  * * *

  Dr Harper, looking every inch the high-powered consultant that he wasn’t, arrived precisely at ten o’clock the following morning, but had to wait over half an hour while Wrinfield went through the motions of interviewing several other woul-be circus doctors who had turned up quite some time before ten o’clock.

  Wrinfield was alone in his office when Harper knocked and entered. Harper said: ‘Good morning. I’m Dr Harper.’

  Wrinfield looked at him in considerable astonishment and had just opened his mouth to speak, doubtless to inform Harper that he was not likely to have forgotten him due to the fact that they had made their first acquaintance over the dead body of Pilgrim, when Harper handed him a handwritten note. It read: ‘This office may be bugged. Interview me as you would any other candidate.’

  ‘Good morning.’ Wrinfield hadn’t even blinked. ‘I’m Wrinfield, the owner.’ He launched smoothly into the interview: Harper, both while listening and answering, sat down and scribbled another note. He handed it across. It read: ‘End the interview and give me the job. Ask me my immediate plans then invite me outside for a look around.’

  Wrinfield said: ‘Well, that’s it. I’m too busy a man to spend a lifetime on making decisions. The job’s yours. Frankly, when I have the choice between an experienced consultant and the young interns I’ve been seeing – well, I don’t have much of a choice. I’m not so naïve as to imagine that you’re making this a full-time career. A sabbatical – or part of it?’

  ‘Twelve years in the Belvedere is a long time.’

  ‘How soon could you be free, Doctor?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Splendid. And what would your immediate plans be?’

  ‘Depends on how soon you want to leave on this foreign tour.’

  ‘Let’s work towards four or five days from now.’

  ‘Little enough time. First, Mr Wrinfield, I’d like your authorization for medical supplies, then a collection of all the passports until I see what’s required in the way of vaccinations and inoculations – I understand your circus has never toured abroad before. I’m afraid that some of your high-wire and trapeze artistes will have to curtail their acts quite a bit in the next few days.’

  ‘All that I can arrange immediately. First of all, though, I suggest you have a look around. When you see what you’ve taken on you might want to change your mind.’

  The two men left the office and Wrinfield led the way to the centre ring of the circus itself, a spot which, in so far as potential eavesdroppers were concerned, was probably more secluded than any place for a mile around. Nonetheless, Wrinfield scuffed the sand with the toe of his shoe and looked casually around before speaking.

  He said: ‘And what was all that for?’

  ‘Sorry about all that cloak-and-dagger stuff. We don’t usually go in for it – spoils our image. Incidentally, congratulations – you’d make a splendid recruit to our organization. Anyway, I was speaking to Charles just before I came here and we both came up with the same very nasty suspicion at the same time.’

  ‘That my office was bugged?’

  ‘If it were, it could explain a great deal.’

  ‘But why all the paper notes you handed me? Why didn’t you just phone and warn me?’ Harper half-smiled at him and Wrinfield tapped his own head. ‘That wasn’t very bright. The phone could have been bugged, too.’

  ‘Indeed. In a few minutes’ time you can expect another applicant for my job. His name is Dr Morley and he will be carrying the regulation black medical bag. But he’s no doctor, he’s an electronics expert and his bag is packed with extremely advanced equipment for locating bugging devices. Ten minutes alone in your office and he’ll find out whether it’s clean or not.’

  Fifteen minutes later, as Wrinfield and Harper approached the office, a tall dark man with a black bag descended the steps from it. For the benefit of watchers or listeners Wrinfield introduced them and suggested a cup of coffee in the canteen. They sat at a remote corner table.

  Morley said: ‘Two bugs. Miniaturized radio transmitters. One in the ceiling light, the other in the phone.’

  ‘So I can breathe again,’ Wrinfield said. Neither of the other two made any immediate reply so he went on rather uncertainly: ‘I mean, those devices have been removed or deactivated?’

  ‘Most certainly not,’ Harper said. ‘The bugs are still there and there they will remain, probably until we return from Europe. Do you think we want the ungodly to know that we know? Think of all the amount of false and confusing and misleading information we can feed them.’ One could see that, mentally, Harper was positively rubbing his hands. ‘From now on you will conduct only routine circus business in that office.’ He smiled almost dreamily. ‘Unless, of course, I give instructions to the contrary.’

  In the days that followed, four subjects increasingly and exclusively dominated conversation in the circus.

  The first of those, inevitably, emanated from the mounting excitement over the forthcoming trip to Europe, a euphoric state that was not, understandably, shared by the unfortunates who were not making the foreign tour but would be returning to the winter headquarters in Florida: for purely logistical reasons, only two-thirds of the personnel would be able to make it. But for the two-thirds who were going the European visit, especially as it included a two-way ocean voyage, was regarded as nothing less than a holiday. An extremely arduous holiday it promised to be from the moment of disembarkation, but nonetheless a holiday. About half the crew were American, few of whom had ever been abroad before, partly from financial considerations, partly because the circus season was so long that they had only three weeks free in the year and this at the wrong time of the year – in the dead of winter: for them, this could be a once in a lifetime experience. The remainder were predominantly European, mainly from the other side of the Iron Curtain, and this was, possibly, also a once in a lifetime experience – that of seeing their native countries and families again.

  The second subject concerned the much-maligned activities of Dr Harper and his two temporarily employed trained nurses. Their degree of unpopularity was high. Harper was rigorous to the point of ruthlessness, and when it came to vaccinations and inoculations no one passed through the meshes of the wide net he cast and when any to-be-or-not-to-be questions arose he never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt. Circus people are undoubtedly tougher and fitter than the average run of mankind, but when it came to a profound aversion to injections, scratches and consequent sore arms they were no different from anyone else. But nobody could possibly doubt that they had a genuine and dedicated doctor in their midst.

  The third concerned two sets of mysterious activities. The first was the patrol that so closely guarded the sleeping quarters on the train during the night. No one seriously believed that threats to lives had been made by parties unknown but, then, they didn�
�t know what else to believe. Then there was the baffling incident of two alleged electrical engineers who had come to examine the wiring of the train. They had almost finished their task before their authenticity had been questioned and the police called. Unknown to anyone in the circus except Harper, they had been detained in custody for precisely five minutes, which was all the time it took for one of them to phone the admiral and reassure him that none of the sleeping quarters on the train had been bugged.

  The last, but unquestionably the most engrossing topic of the lot, concerned Bruno and Maria. To the vexation of Henry, who was not engaged in a battle with his conscience, they were not only seen increasingly in each other’s company, but were also seen actively and with no attempt at concealment to seek out each other’s company. The reactions to this particular development were predictably mixed. Some were amused to see Bruno’s hitherto inviolate defences being breached. Others were envious – the men because Bruno had undoubtedly and apparently without effort attached the affections of a girl who politely and pointedly ignored any other approaches made to her, the women because Bruno, by far the most eligible bachelor in the circus, politely but pointedly ignored any approaches made to him. Many more were happy for Bruno, and this despite the fact that apart from Kan Dahn, Manuelo and Roebuck he had no real friends in the circus, because it was common knowledge that since the death of his wife he had been a sad, lonely and withdrawn man who never looked at women. But the majority regarded it as only natural and inevitable that the undisputed star of the circus should come together with a girl who was arguably the most lovely young lady among a plethora of lovely young ladies.

  It was not until the last performance of their last night in town that Bruno rather diffidently asked her along to see his quarters aboard the train. Maria showed no diffidence in accepting the offer. He guided her stumbling footsteps along the rutted siding track then helped her up the steep steps at the end of a coach.

  Bruno had rather splendid and completely enclosed quarters, consisting of a sitting-room, kitchen-cum-dinette, bathroom – with, of all things, a sunken bath – and bedroom. Maria looked almost dazed as he led her back to the sitting-room.

  He said: ‘I’m told I mix what the Americans call a rather mean Martini. Only time I ever drink is after I’ve finished a series in a town. Alcohol and the trapeze don’t mix. Will you join me?’

  ‘Please. I must say you do live in style. You should have a wife to share all this.’

  Bruno fetched ice. ‘Is that a proposal?’

  ‘No, it’s not. But all this – just for one man.’

  ‘Mr Wrinfield is very kind to me.’

  She said drily: ‘I don’t think Mr Wrinfield is losing out on the deal. Does anyone else have accommodation like this?’

  ‘I haven’t gone around examining – ’

  ‘Bruno!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Certainly not me. I have a place like a horizontal telephone box. Ah, well, I suppose there’s a vast gap in status between a trainee secretary and you.’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘Men! Modesty! I just don’t know!’

  ‘Come with me on the high trapeze. Blindfolded. Then you’ll know.’

  She shuddered, not altogether affectedly. ‘I can’t even stand on a chair without getting vertigo. Truly. You’re welcome to your palace. Well, I suppose I can always come along and visit the palace.’

  He handed her a drink. ‘I’ll have a special welcome mat made out for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She lifted her glass. ‘To our first time alone. We’re supposed to be falling in love. Any idea how the others think we are doing?’

  ‘I can’t speak for the others. I think I’m doing very well.’ He glanced at the compressing lips and said hastily: ‘I think we’re doing very well. I suppose, as of this moment, that must be the general idea. By this time at least a hundred people must know that you’re here with me. Aren’t you supposed to blush or something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a lost art. Well, I don’t suppose you came along just for my dark eyes. You have something to tell me?’

  ‘Not really. You asked me, remember?’ She smiled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just polishing up our act.’ She stopped smiling and put down her glass. He reached forward quickly and touched the back of her hand. ‘Don’t be a silly goose, Maria.’ She looked at him uncertainly, smiled a token smile, and picked up her glass again. ‘Tell me. What am I supposed to do when we get to Crau – and how am I supposed to do it?’

  ‘Only Dr Harper knows, and he’s not ready to talk yet. I should imagine that he’ll tell you – us – either on the way across or when we get to Europe. But two things he did tell me this morning – ’

  ‘I knew you had something to tell me.’

  ‘Yes. I was just trying to be a tease. It didn’t work, did it? Remember those two so-called electrical engineers that the police escorted to the train? They were our people, electronic experts searching for listening devices – bugs. They concentrated on your apartment.’

  ‘Bugs? In my apartment? Come on, Maria, that is a bit melodramatic.’

  ‘Is it? The second item of news is that a few days ago they found two bugs in Mr Wrinfield’s office – one for the room, one for the telephone. I suppose that’s melodramatic, too?’ When Bruno made no reply she went on: ‘They haven’t removed the bugs. Mr Wrinfield, on Dr Harper’s suggestion, is on the phone to Charles several times a day, dropping vague hints and making veiled suggestions about certain members of the circus who might be of interest to him. Nothing about us, of course. In fact he’s made so many suggestions that if they – whoever “they” may be – are keeping tabs on the suggested suspects they won’t have time to look at far less think about anyone else. Which, of course, includes us.’

  ‘I think they’re nuts,’ Bruno said candidly. ‘And by “they”, this time, I don’t mean “they”, I mean Wrinfield and Harper. Playing little kiddies’ games.’

  ‘The murders of Pilgrim and Fawcett. That was a game?’

  ‘Preserve me from feminine logic. I wasn’t talking about them.’

  ‘Dr Harper has twenty years’ experience behind him.’

  ‘Or one year’s twenty times over. OK, so I leave myself in the safe arms of the experts. Meantime, I suppose there’s nothing for the sacrificial calf to do?’

  ‘No. Well, yes. You can tell me how to get in touch with you.’

  ‘Knock twice and ask for Bruno.’

  ‘You have a sealed-off suite here. I won’t be able to see you when the train is in motion.’

  ‘Well, well.’ Bruno smiled widely, a rare thing for him: it was the first time she had seen his smile touch his eyes. ‘I make progress. You think you’ll be wanting to see me?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I may have to see you.’

  Bruno nodded forwards. ‘It’s illegal to seal off any part of a coach in motion. There’s a door in the corner of my bedroom that leads to the passage beyond. But it’s only got one handle and that’s on my side.’

  ‘If I knock tat-tat, tat-tat, you’ll know it’s me.’

  ‘Tat-tat, tat-tat,’ he said solemnly. ‘I love those kiddies’ games.’

  He escorted her back to her compartment. At the foot of the steps he said: ‘Well, goodnight. Thanks for the visit.’ He bent forward and kissed her lightly.

  She didn’t object, just said mildly: ‘Isn’t that carrying realism a bit too far?’

  ‘Not at all. Orders are orders. We are supposed to be creating a certain impression, and the chance was too good to pass up. There are at least a dozen people watching us.’

  She made a face, turned and went up the steps.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Most of the following day was given up to dismantling the bewildering variety and daunting amount of equipment inside the arena, the backstage and the fairground and loading up the half-mile-long train. To transfer this, the animal cages, the prefabricated offices, the fairground booths a
nd Bruno’s ramshackle mentalist theatre, not to mention the animals and circus members to the coaches and flat-cars, was a massive undertaking that to the layman would have appeared well-nigh impossible: the circus, with its generations of experience behind it, performed the task with an almost ludicrous ease, a smooth efficiency that reduced a seemingly hopeless confusion to a near-miracle of precision and order. Even the loading up of provisions for the hundreds of animals and humans would have seemed a most formidable task: in the event the last of the provision trucks departed less than an hour after the first had arrived. The whole operation could have been likened to an exercise in military logistics with the sole proviso that any unbiased and expert observer would have conceded that the circus had unquestionably the edge in efficiency.

  The circus train was due to pull out at ten o’clock that night. At nine o’clock, Dr Harper was still closeted with the admiral, studying two very complicated diagrams.

  The admiral had a pipe in one hand, a brandy in the other. He looked relaxed, calm and unconcerned. It was possible that he might just have been relaxed and calm but, as the sole instigator of the forthcoming operation, the man who had conceived and planned it all down to the last and most intimate details possible, it was impossible that he should not be concerned. He said: ‘You have it all? Guards, entry, interior layout, exit and escape route to the Baltic?’

  ‘I have it all. I just hope that damned ship is there for rendezvous.’ Harper folded the diagrams and pushed them deeply into the inside pocket of his coat.

  ‘You break in on a Tuesday night. They’ll be cruising off-shore from the Friday to the following Friday. A whole week’s grace.’

  ‘Won’t the East Germans or the Poles or the Russians be suspicious, sir?’

  ‘Inevitably. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Won’t they object?’

  ‘How can they? Since when has the Baltic been anyone’s private pond? Of course they’re going to tie up the presence of the ship – or ships – with the presence of the circus in Crau. Inevitable, and nothing we can do about it. The circus, the circus.’ The admiral sighed. ‘You’d better deliver the goods, Harper, or I’m going to be on welfare before the year is out.’