The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  ‘None, sir. Since he came back, he seemed to be in a depression. He said Kristina had been captured and shot. I believed him. His drinking became worse and he became abusive. I saw less of him as a result.’

  ‘I understand. His behaviour in Russia has been somewhat erratic. It was one of the reasons we pulled him in the end. He may have been mixed up in that Reilly business, and afterwards he seemed to spiral out of control,’ said “C”.

  Kit nodded, remembering the attempt to assassinate Lenin by Sidney Reilly and launch a coup to take over Russia. It was news to him that Olly had been involved.

  ‘Is this when Kristina was taken?’ asked Kit.

  ‘We simply don’t know, Kit. We only have Olly’s confirmation of this,’ replied “C”.

  ‘What of Daniels? Has he said anything yet?’ asked Peel.

  ‘Not surprisingly, Daniels is refusing to speak. I understand there’s been various attempts to persuade and, shall we say, coerce him. Nothing is working. He’s quite a strong individual. I gather our people do not have great expectations of success,’ responded “C”.

  ‘So, we’ve no idea why Olly did all this?’ asked Kit disconsolately.

  ‘I’m afraid not, and we can only speculate as to why Roger became involved. I’m inclined to your view Kit that Roger was duped into persuading you to play the match by Lake on the prisoner pretext, which is entirely true by the way. Roger told us about the idea for the match and we were supportive. We must conclude that it was Lake who planted the idea of the match initially with Roger before faking his descent into alcoholism and depression. Along the way he used Roger as his dupe to bring us and you, Kit, into the fold.’

  ‘I’m convinced of this sir,’ said Kit, ‘I think somewhere along the way Roger lost his mind. He believed Colin was still alive. Perhaps Olly knew this and used him accordingly. I think Roger really believed he was working with us again.’

  One other thing had been on Kit’s mind since the night at the hospital. He said, ‘We’ve been assuming that Olly was working with the Russians, sir, but what if it was someone else?’

  Kit glanced at Peel and then back at “C”.

  “C” nodded and said, ‘I take your meaning. I think it would be fair to say that if Olly is working with ORCA then Daniels would be too. A body search of Daniels revealed no tattoo and, furthermore, our interrogators reported that he seemed confused by any reference to this group. My feeling is he was duped by Lake also. He may genuinely be a Cheka agent doing his country’s bidding. But, to your point Kit, this doesn’t mean Lake isn’t with ORCA.’

  ‘ORCA?’ asked Billy Peel.

  ‘I hope I need not remind you that you’ve signed the Official Secrets Act, Billy,’ said “C”.

  Peel nodded.

  ‘ORCA is the Organisation des Révolutionnaires, des Communistes et des Anarchistes. I’m sure, even in French the name is self-explanatory,’ replied Kit.

  ORCA was a mysterious international organisation that Kit had come up against once before. Yet, its aims and ideology were unclear other than to instigate conflict between nations.

  ‘So that’s the end of it then?’ asked Peel.

  ‘For the moment, yes Billy. Their mission failed, thanks to Kit, and Lake is on the run. To return to the chess theme, we shall have to await their next move.’

  ‘What will happen to Daniels?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Unless he’s prepared to talk, he’ll hang.’

  Peel asked the next question.

  ‘And if he turns?’

  ‘It would be a pity to lose such a source of information and capability,’ said “C” enigmatically.

  This brought the meeting to a close. Kit and Peel followed Spunky out of the office. When they reached the bottom, Kit bid adieu to Spunky and walked out into the cold January air.

  ‘You have your story then,’ said Kit.

  ‘Not the one I wanted,’ said Peel sourly.

  Kit looked at him strangely, ‘Surely you didn’t want…’

  ‘No don’t be an ass. I’m no royalist but I certainly wouldn’t want to see them assassinated,’ said Peel laughing, before adding, ‘Exiled maybe.’

  It was Kit’s turn to laugh. Outside the gate, Kit could see Harry Miller waiting for him.

  ‘Can I give you a lift? The hospital’s not too far out of our way.’

  Peel reluctantly gave way and climbed into the Rolls Royce. Kit instructed Miller on where to go. As they left Peel said ruefully, ‘I hope no one sees me getting out of this damn car. My career will be over.’

  -

  Olly Lake pulled up the collar of his blue pea coat and pushed his woollen cap down. Walking towards a small trawler, he climbed aboard and waved at the captain, who had just arrived on deck.

  ‘Ezeras,’ beamed the Latvian captain. It was a smile only a mother could love. Half a dozen rotten teeth remained; their life expectancy matched that of the captain’s liver.

  ‘Where have you been, you old dog?’

  ‘Here and there Lukas, here and there.’

  They both spoke Russian. Lake was gratified to see how welcome he was. A few other members of the crew appeared, and he received some pretty hefty slaps on the back. He occasionally joined their boat, worked hard, never took any pay and then left. No questions were ever asked.

  ‘How long do you want to stay with us, Ezeras?’ asked the captain.

  ‘A month?’

  ‘A month it is. Get yourself downstairs and changed.’

  Lake didn’t need to be shown the way. He walked over to a hatch and gingerly climbed down. He took the second door and found himself in a communal cabin. Two other men were there playing cards. It took a few moments for them to register the arrival of Lake and then both stood up to greet him.

  ‘Ezeras! Where have you been up to?’

  Lake laughed and swung his bag onto the top bunk. He took off his cap and the pea coat and lay them on the bunk also. He looked down at their game and said, ‘Room for one more?’

  Both men assented, and Lake sat down to join them. As one of the men dealt the cards, Lake rolled his shirt sleeves up. The dealer looked down at his forearm, shook his head and smiled.

  ‘You need to get a better tattoo than that, my friend. I can bring you to the best tattooist in Riga. What’s it supposed to be anyway?’

  Lake smiled and looked at the tattoo.

  ‘It’s a killer whale. An Orca.’

  Chapter 34

  The short journey to the Daily Herald took place in a surprisingly cordial atmosphere. Kit found Peel more good-humoured than their initial meeting had suggested. Despite this, he kindly declined a tour of the offices and a chance to be interviewed for the paper.

  After they parted, Kit said to Miller, ‘Let’s go to the hospital.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ responded Miller before adding, ‘Wasn’t a bad sort, Mr Peel.’

  ‘Indeed, he helped a lot. Complicated chap, not what I was expecting.’

  They set off on the short journey to the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery Hospital. The thought of going created mixed feelings in Kit. It was January 17th. Mary had been in a coma for nearly three weeks now. Every visit had the possibility of being the last. Kit felt his stomach tighten as they drew up to the entrance of the hospital.

  They nodded to one another. There was nothing to say. Kit stepped onto the footpath. The clouds above told him it was about to rain. He fixed his hat and marched in through the entrance passing the newspaper seller. The headline on his board read: ‘Strangerson Trial Begins!’

  -

  Miller watched Kit all the way to the hospital door. As soon as he was out of sight, he started the car and drove off. A few minutes later he was outside the Telegraph Office.

  Parking the car, he took a few moments to scribble a note before exiting the car and walking inside the office. Seated behind the desk was the young woman he’d seen on almost every visit to the office. There was no queue. He walked straight over.

  If th
e young woman recognised him, she gave no indication. Barely looking up she held out her hand to receive the message to be sent. She looked over the message and seemed to redden slightly. It read: Would like to take you out to dinner. Are you free this Saturday at 7pm? Dinner at Café de Paris. Harry

  She looked up at Miller and handed the message back, ‘There’s no addressee.’

  He liked her voice.

  Miller wrote one word: ‘You’. He handed the note back.

  She looked again at the note and wrote something at the bottom. A few people were now standing behind Miller. There were two words written underneath Miller’s message: Yes. Sarah.

  -

  The anger rose in Kit as he thought of Strangerson. He couldn’t wait to see Strangerson tried for the murder of Robert Cavendish. The Crown Prosecution had decided to progress with this trial and await developments with Mary. They had told Esther by letter.

  The hospital reception felt like a second home now. He recognised doctors and nurses and they him. He returned their smiles but found it draining, longing for a time when the visits would cease, but only if it meant Mary was by his side.

  As he arrived at her room, he heard Esther crying. He stopped in the corridor, his heart crashing to the pit of his stomach. With an effort of will he pushed forward and opened the door.

  Mary turned around at his sudden entrance. She smiled.

  Kit stopped in the doorway unable to believe his eyes. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, taking in her hair, her eyes, and that smile. Then he raced forward. As he reached her, he stopped, unsure if he could hold her or not. He compromised and took hold of her hand. At last, he regained the power of speech.

  ‘Mary,’ he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

  Mary smiled at him, but her eyes were beginning to fill also.

  ‘Lord Aston,’ she said wryly, ‘I can’t leave you a week or two and you’re off solving other cases. What am I to do with you?’

  Kit glanced at Esther and Bright before replying, ‘I’ve some thoughts on that topic.’

  Slowly Esther released Mary’s hand. She and Bright stood up, each smiling.

  ‘I think we’ll give the both of you a few moments,’ said Esther before looking Kit directly in the eye, ‘Make it quick.’

  Mary smiled up at her sister and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

  When they’d left, Kit’s face became serious, ‘Mary, I thought...’

  Mary shook her head and put her hand to his lips. He didn’t have to say anything now, or ever again on this.

  ‘You would’ve given your life for me,’ persisted Kit, then with a smile he added, ‘I’ve read in some cultures, when you save someone’s life, their life belongs to you.’

  Mary’s eyes narrowed, ‘Sounds like marriage.’

  ‘I’m glad you mentioned this,’ replied Kit, ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’

  Chapter 35

  Filip Serov took an early morning stroll through the park. It was Saturday and the rain beat steadily on his umbrella. He didn’t mind. Long winters in Russia made him impervious all elements except heat. He preferred the cold. Summer in Petrograd could be unbearable at times.

  The park was quiet. This surprised Serov, but he accepted that people in Britain had no conception of what winter could do. They could not comprehend how it felt to be so cold that your skin hurt, when the moisture in your eyes could freeze. He was disappointed, nonetheless. Large puddles lay ahead of him, but he did not change direction. He wondered at what point he had stopped walking through puddles.

  The pitter pattering on his umbrella seemed to be diminishing, so he pulled it down. He removed his hat and allowed the sprinkling of rain, to fall on his cheek. The traffic to his left created a ceaseless hum but he could still hear birds nearby in the trees singing. They seemed as happy with the weather as he was.

  He continued walking through the park until the end, then he slid left and walked up some steps onto the street. Following the road down the hill, he reached his destination. It still looked no more attractive than before, but he found it reassuring all the same.

  Unknown to him, his arrival had been noticed. A woman watched him as he walked past the house into the hall. Slightly alarmed she rushed to finish dressing, stopping momentarily to check her hair. She wondered what would happen if she ever wore make up. The thought passed, and she rushed out.

  Serov walked through the double door entrance of the hall. Inside the hall, seated at a table with a chess set atop, was a young girl. Not yet observed, Serov gazed at Fiona Lawrence, lost as she was, in concentration. Finally, she raised her head.

  If she was surprised to see Serov, she didn’t show it. Instead, she merely stared back at him as he approached the table. When he reached her, he looked from Fiona to the chess board and then back again.

  ‘Excelsior?’ asked Serov

  Fiona nodded, returning her gaze to the table.

  ‘You know the solution?’ probed Serov.

  Another nod and then she spoke, ‘I’m trying to stop it.’

  Serov nodded and sat down beside her. As he did so, Miss Upritchard entered the hall. She stopped at the doorway and looked at the two chess players. Unsure of what to do next, she remained silent as neither of them had observed her arrival.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be out playing with your friends?’ asked Serov.

  Fiona looked at Serov, anger flashed in her eyes.

  ‘I’m a twelve-year-old maths prodigy. What friends?’

  Serov nodded sympathetically, ‘Where are your parents?’

  Miss Upritchard heard this question, her fists tightened. She watched her ward, desperate to go over to her, but reluctant to interrupt. Serov didn’t seem to have ill intentions. In fact, for once, his demeanour seemed compassionate rather than angry.

  ‘They didn’t want me. I’m an orphan.’

  She was glaring at Serov now. Her eyes were burning, not with anger but with tears. Serov looked away and nodded. He knew about this. He glanced up and saw Miss Upritchard standing at the door. Their eyes met for a moment. Then he looked at Fiona Lawrence.

  ‘Mine didn’t want me either.’

  Coda

  National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery Hospital, London: 23rd January 1920

  A few days later, Kit arrived at the hospital with Esther, Bright and Miller. He walked over and kissed Mary on the forehead. She nodded to her sister and Bright. Meanwhile, Kit made himself comfortable on the bed beside Mary. She looked him up and down slowly.

  ‘You’re a bit premature, Lord Aston.’

  ‘I haven’t had any complaints,’ smiled Kit.

  Mary remained impassive save for the merest twitch of an eyebrow. Kit shook his head and said, ‘Shocking.’

  ‘No Sam?’ asked Mary, changing the subject.

  ‘No,’ replied Kit, ‘We were told off yesterday about bringing him.’

  ‘You were told off Kit, you mean,’ laughed Esther. ‘Outrageous. Imagine bringing a dog into a hospital. You should’ve seen the look on Matron’s face, Mary. I’m surprised Kit didn’t get six of the best.’

  Mary burst out laughing. The sound of her conspiratorial laughter felt like Kit’s senses were drowning in something pure and pleasurable. This was the rest of his life. He couldn’t wait. Then Mary clapped her hands. Kit’s heart sank for a moment, he knew what was coming.

  ‘Right, let’s hear the rest of the story, darling,’ said Mary looking up at her fiancé.

  ‘Must we?’ asked Kit dolefully.

  Yes, chorused everyone except Miller. He, too, knew what was coming. Kit glanced at him and the two men shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘From where you left off, poor Mr Cornell has been shot and you’re on the boat. What happened then?’

  -

  I made it to Helsingfors and then from there to Stockholm, without incident. In Stockholm I received new instructions, which I think poor Roger must have been aware of, that I was to go to German
y.

  As you can imagine, this was far from happy news, but it was important. Our High Command were naturally concerned about the prospect of the Russians pulling out of the War. Doing so would release a lot of German soldiers onto the Western Front. They needed information about German positions, numbers, and movements in the region of Cambrai. They also needed an idea of the strength of German reserves. I had a couple of weeks to reach Cambrai, assess the situation and contact one of our agents in the area who could radio the information to Allied High Command. But, as Von Moltke once observed, ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’

  Two covers were developed for me. I was given papers, military uniform, the lot. The first one you’ll be familiar with Mary, Klaus Adler, I had faked instructions attaching me to a unit right at the front in Cambrai. My second cover was Michael Fischer, an Austrian, returning from Russia to be re-assigned. In both cases I was to be a Colonel, would you believe? I was pleased with my promotion, pity it was in the German army.

  So, back off to Russia for me. First to Petrograd and then a town to the south, Pskov. We knew the Germans were pulling some of the Austrian Fourth Army, or what was left of it, back to be reintegrated for the big Spring push we believed the Germans were planning in 1918.

  I joined the army in Pskov, no easy matter I can tell you. The German secret police were on the lookout for spies and I had a few hairy moments as they checked my papers.

  After that it was a simple matter of joining some of their men in a local bar. Our intelligence proved correct and my division was shipped out with me on a train to Germany and then France. I should add that I was sporting a dashing moustache and a monocle. Rather a low rent disguise. I switched between Adler and Fischer when I was in the Cambrai area, depending on which corps of the 3rd Army I was gathering information on.

  It was fairly chaotic, the battle was at an end, mostly. Lots of people were cut off in the fighting which meant I was able to move freely as no one knew who anyone was. On December 5th, I was meant to contact one of our men at a farmhouse in Marcoing, just south of Cambrai. I waited a couple of hours, but he never showed. I heard later that the poor blighter had been caught and executed.