‘Interrupting, monsieur,’ snapped Juin. ‘How did you discover these last facts?’
‘By going to Carpenter himself,’ said the Admiral flatly. ‘I grilled him this week till he nearly cooked and then we got parts of the story out of him.’
Grant smiled slightly. So that was what had been going on upstairs for the last three days. He had suspected that the old man was on to something and running a private show, but never anything like this. ‘And where is Carpenter now, sir?’
‘Here. In the top attic thinking about his sins,’ said the Admiral. ‘I invited him to an alleged meeting at a private address in Glasgow on Tuesday morning. He came, of course, but when he clammed up I then slipped a Mickey Finn or its equivalent into his whisky and whipped him through here on the same afternoon. Since when he has softened up quite some. And he may now be open to suggestion. The suggestion that he won’t be charged on any count if he co-operates with the authorities. And at least he’s already given us enough facts to fill in a few important gaps in our dossier, even if we can’t completely prove them.’ He glanced towards Juin. ‘Any further points?’
The Professor was speechless and Grant saw that his chief had the ball at his feet. But surprises were just beginning.
In a nutshell. Carpenter’s mistress in Prestwick had turned on the heat some months earlier and threatened to tell the university authorities about his private life if he didn’t co-operate in supplying drugs as well. Given his scientific background he could use excuses for gathering supplies of pep-pills, stimulants and even opium. His official reputation was ace high and it had been easy for him to say that certain things were necessary for research programmes which included various lines quite apart from contraceptives.
In the end the man had played it their way and produced limited supplies of rare drugs. His girl friend had then passed them on to her own contacts and Carpenter was now completely on the hooks. ADSAD suspected that tapes and photographs had been used to blackmail him, but up to date it had been impossible to secure any.
‘And does he know who you are?’ asked the Premier.
‘No, sir.’ The Admiral sat back smugly. ‘He thinks I’m just another background villain in the conspiracy to destroy him if he doesn’t play ball. In fact he probably figures I’m one of the top drug men.’
‘So what do you propose to do with him?’
‘That, sir,’ said the Admiral briefly, ‘is one of the things which ought, now, to be discussed. And it is an angle where David Grant may have some ideas.’
Grant fumbled again for his pipe. It was at a time like this that a man missed cigarettes. ‘First,’ he said slowly, ‘let’s get that electronic bug embedded in our unknown man’s leg tonight. And then keep him on tap after he leaves the nursing home until we find where he goes to roost. With luck that will give us one main lead. Second, I would suggest that you let Carpenter go. He has voluntarily given Professor Juin a specimen of PENTER 15 and I could visit him in the near future with a letter of introduction from the Professor passing me off as the assistant to whom he had deputised some work. With luck I could then skate round the technicalities of the subject for long enough to decide an approach which will give access to his records. Then we must remove the records, get hold of all supplies and deal with him finally.’
‘But the man wants to publish his results,’ said Juin. ‘Have you any idea of what that means to a scientist? Nothing short of death would make him agree to withholding publication.’
‘Nothing?’ asked the Premier. ‘Not even fear of exposure?’
‘What proof have we?’ asked the Admiral. ‘We suspect that compromising photos or tapes exist. But we can’t find them. Defence would say that his story had been got by intimidation. Then again we have witnesses who are tainted. Think of what an expert counsel could do with the sort of stories we’ve winkled out of a woman like Carol Anne!’
‘Carol Anne?’
‘His mistress,’ said the Admiral. ‘It would be 1963 all over again in the courts and do nobody any good. Least of all ourselves, because don’t lose sight of the fact that our own immediate task is to secure a secret monopoly of PENTER 15, gain control of existing supplies and make certain that Carpenter does no more research.’
Grant was amused at the way the old man introduced the subject. How could any man with a record like Carpenter’s ever be relied on to keep his mouth shut? As a fanatical scientist he would say I’m publishing and be damned. But even if he did hand over his records he was still open to corruption. At least one criminal group knew his weaknesses and news like that spread. Probably everyone with an interest in drugs knew his potential. In fact the death of Smith was proof that someone was already on to the PENTER 15 story. If Carpenter was allowed to live it was only a question of time till he did a moonlight flit. SATAN could afford to pay him a bigger salary than Edinburgh University.
‘And are you seriously suggesting that this man be murdered?’ The Prime Minister forced himself to be calm, but his fingers were trembling as he lit still one more Bolivar Corona.
‘Sure he is,’ snapped the Ambassador. ‘And the sooner the better. So long as Carpenter is alive and carrying the recipe in his mind none of us can be sure he won’t do a deal with the other side.’
The Premier stood up. ‘What sort of people do you think Her Majesty’s Government are?’ he said at last. ‘This is the most shocking suggestion I’ve ever heard. And that it should be made in front of witnesses is beyond my understanding.’
‘Would you feel better if it had been made by Grant in private and then discussed later between our two selves?’ The Ambassador had flushed with temper.
‘That is a highly improper comment.’
‘Then stop being a stuffed shirt, Prime Minister, and get down to realities. I propose to discuss this with the President tomorrow, and he’ll want to know what has happened to Carpenter, his drug and his records.’
‘And you seriously believe that the President of the United States of America would approve the death of this man?’
The Ambassador stared almost unbelievingly and then smiled in genuine admiration. ‘You English beat the band. I thought at first you were kidding. But you really are on your dignity. You don’t want to do anything shady. And it would be a dirty trick to kill poor old Carpenter just because he had only discovered a drug that could sterilise enough of the Free World to give the rest a clear lead in everything. Even although that same Carpenter was mixed to the earholes in dope, hooch and women. Even although he could be bought for cash or disciplined by fear. Even although he is a small-time punk with a mind like a sewer.’ He hesitated. ‘Say, you’re Head of the Secret Service. Now I know what you mean by secret.’
‘Gentlemen.’ The Admiral almost spat out the word. ‘May I once more remind you that this is NATO property: and this a NATO exercise: and that you are NATO guests. Kindly get back to the subjects which matter. David Grant’s view is correct. Obviously Carpenter must die. The only question is when. And I agree that meanwhile we should arrange for him to go home. I therefore propose, later, to put him to sleep. Dr. Grant will run him to Edinburgh and tell his family he was found unconscious by the side of the road. The man will be confused when he wakens up in his own bed and has to invent an off-the-cuff story to satisfy his family. Dr. Grant will make a return visit next day to ask after his health, but playing it from there he will try to arrange more intimate contacts. He can, for example, pass himself off as a stranger back from abroad and looking for digs. They might rise to that. Or he could even say he was a doctor researching in Paris. That ought to fetch Carpenter if nothing else does. But in the end you can be certain that David will discover everything that matters.’
‘Not enough,’ snapped the Ambassador. ‘That guy has got to be bumped. And bumped fast. The President will want to be certain that there is no possibility of him running amok. Or seeing Carol Anne,’ he added grimly. ‘That dame sounds dangerous.’
‘I refuse to be associated with t
his,’ said the Premier violently. ‘Exceptional things may be tolerated in times of war, but this is a straightforward new chemical which ought to be internationally controlled. And indeed it might prove to be an invaluable gift to humanity. Some foolproof means of controlling world population is going to be required within the next ten or fifteen years, and this could be the very thing.’
‘I agree,’ said the Ambassador heavily, ‘but it must be controlled by responsible people and Carpenter isn’t responsible. He can be bought. He is weak. He is an international menace. And we know that somebody or other is already after this thing. Someone with nerve enough to kill your man Smith. They didn’t take a risk like that for peanuts. They monitored a vital conversation and then bumped the guy before he could say too much. A set-up with enough know-how to get away with that could steal Carpenter from under our noses if we let him go loose. And the condemnable thing would be that we would never know whether or not the enemy had got hold of supplies until there were falling birth-rates in some of the world’s key areas. Like the U.S.A. or Western Europe, for example,’ he added sourly. ‘And yet you’re too squeamish to face reality.’
Grant admired the way in which the Admiral brought the meeting to order. The question of Carpenter’s future was ADSAD’s problem. Her Majesty’s Government had no more to do with it than it had about the disposal of refuse cans in Timbuktu. And the same went for America. With all respect the meeting had been convened only to acquaint two world leaders with first-hand knowledge of PENTER 15 and how it worked. Having advised the two governments who mattered most within the framework of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, Admiral Cooper was now responsible to the Director General, who would, personally, decide what to do with any records or chemicals taken from Carpenter. And decision as to whether or not the man lived or died would rest with ADSAD, the official organisation entrusted by the NATO powers with decisions of that sort.
Meanwhile David Grant would return him to Edinburgh and it might be wise for the distinguished guests to decide on their own movements. The Press would be tailing every car leaving the house and his own advice would be for the Premier to leave underneath a rug on the floor of a shooting brake which was normally used for ferrying provisions. Sergeant Bryce would drive and arrangements would be made for the Premier’s own car to go home during the night after number plates had been changed. As for the Ambassador: his best bet was to beat it straight to an airport and point for Washington.
While, of course, the unknown man upstairs would shortly be on his way to Perth. Time was running out on them all, but both Washington and Her Majesty’s Government might be glad to know that all information relating to PENTER 15 would continue to remain top secret until both governments had signed an agreement as to its future use.
‘So now, David, Professor. Get ready for Perth. I’ll have our man upstairs ready for transport within half an hour.’
The Ambassador smiled twistedly as he shook hands with Grant and turned to go. ‘Fix Carpenter,’ he said grimly. ‘And fix him good.’
The Prime Minister was less dramatic. ‘Specialised work of your sort, Dr. Grant, must be a great strain. If you can carry it through you may find that we don’t forget our friends.’
Grant looked him straight in the eye. ‘Don’t let’s forget our enemies either, sir. This looks like being one of these milestones in history that we read about.’
He watched the two men pack into their cars inside the garage and Sergeant Bryce paused before slipping into the driver’s seat. ‘That fella the Admiral, sirr. He’s the real Mackay. Sent up some cigarettes wi’ instructions for use by the patient only.’ He grinned. ‘Fella went out like a light wi’ half a dozen puffs. Been sleepin’ like a baby ever since. Neatest thing ye ever saw.’
‘Inside, man,’ snapped a voice, and Bryce sprang to attention.
‘Be seein’ ye, sirr.’
The Admiral watched two cars swing down the drive with three motor-cycles out in front. He unconsciously mopped his brow and Grant watched the tension slowly empty from his body as face muscles and back slowly relaxed and he wandered back into the parlour. He lifted a bottle. ‘Not often I drink before dinner, David,’ he said apologetically, ‘but by God I need it now!’
Chapter Six – ‘No wonder your leaders were worried.’
Grant believed in hustling only in emergencies and he particularly disliked being rushed in his own home country. He later decided that the day was ending with more concentrated activity than he had known even in Russia.
His surgeon friend Bill Wallace had welcomed an unusual assignment. Especially when it came from Grant and been underlined by a chief whom he knew by repute. Juin’s electronic gadget had arrived within three minutes of schedule and been embedded in the unknown man’s leg without fuss. An over-worked theatre staff had seen no reason to question anything in this age of organ-grafting, heart-timing or the like and Wallace had done a neat job which could be pin-pointed only after X-ray examination. Their victim would remain bedbound for ten days and by that time the graft (which covered the cavity in his bone) would be well enough splinted by overlying muscles to allow normal movement and the man would be discharged. But only to be tracked by relays of agents from ADSAD who would trace him through to his contact. And for eleven months at least he would throw out a steady radio signal wherever he went. After that he might go to his grave never knowing that he had been one of the first victims of the most ingenious method yet devised for shadowing a suspect.
If it worked!
Grant forced himself back to reality and glanced through the driving mirror at the man sprawled on the back seat. The operation had lasted just over an hour and he had returned from Perth to find Carpenter ready for transport. The Admiral had soaked his overcoat with whisky and he was deeply drugged with nembutal. Enough, Juin reckoned, to last for at least ten hours and leaving ample time for Grant to deliver him to Edinburgh. Mud which had earlier been collected from a roadside near Dunbar had been rubbed into both skin and clothes so that if any forensic expert was called in to trace what had happened they would be led in the wrong direction, because the soil was different from that within miles of the Big House and it was necessary to establish evidence which would hint at loss of memory, a deal of drinking and alcoholic coma by the wayside.
At Stirling Grant cut south to Lanark, Peebles and the long road round by Galashiels, Duns and Cockburnspath to Dunbar, where he drew up in a layby and left firm tyre marks on the dust. Forty minutes later he was in Edinburgh, moving well within the speed limit through Morningside to a gaunt mid-nineteenth-century house standing within its own grounds near Forres Avenue. The name hung on a freshly painted open gate and he swung down the hundred-yard drive to Whins o’ Pentland as a local clock chimed three ack emma.
The house was in total darkness, but he drew up at the front door, checked that Carpenter was still asleep and then rang the bell. His headlamps were playing on a statue in the garden and he could hear a dog growling in the distance. The porch was surrounded with ivy and the oak door seemed like the gate to a prison. He grinned with satisfaction as he remembered the cars which had sat on his tail right to Stirling and how he had lost them in the mess-up of roads between Airdrie and Lanark. But press men were hard to lose and only after another fifteen-minute halt on the moors beyond Peebles had he been finally convinced that he had shaken them off. There was a hint of movement inside, a cat or something prowling as a light was switched on upstairs, and then a curtain moved at the window.
A minute later a bolt was drawn and the handle turned. The door creaked widely open and he blinked against light which threw into tantalising silhouette the long limbs of a girl still in her early twenties but wrapped in a flimsy house-coat and with her hair in blue and pink ‘curlers’.
She looked at him curiously. ‘Yes?’ Her voice was deeply contralto.
‘Professor Carpenter’s house?’
‘Yes.’
He became crisply business-like. He had been mot
oring up to Edinburgh when he passed a figure lying by the side of the road. He had stopped and checked that the man was alive. There was a letter in his pocket with an address, and the name-tab on his jacket was the same as the name on the envelope. Professor Carpenter, Whins o’ Pentland, Forres Avenue, Morningside, Edinburgh. He regretted that the Professor seemed to have hit the bottle in a really big way. He was still flat out and looked like remaining stinko till morning. ‘Perhaps I could bring him inside,’ he ended.
The girl was pale. The Professor had gone to a meeting a few days earlier in Glasgow. When he hadn’t returned that night the family hadn’t really been surprised. He frequently stayed away on business and always carried overnight things in his car. But after hearing nothing by Thursday they had notified the police.
She held the car door open while he eased her father out and carried him inside. The man weighed a good twelve stones and looked as strong as a horse. The girl ran ahead and showed the way to a downstairs bedroom. Grant had flushed with exertion and was breathing heavily as he laid the man down on a narrow bed—his own room, he decided from the fittings around—and slipped off Carpenter’s dirty shoes.
Live, Love, and Cry Page 6
