This Drakotny_A Gripping Spy Thriller

by Philip McCutchan

  “Quick,” she said hoarsely. “Do be quick! I’ll main line.”

  “Main line?” I looked at Fräulein Frossen. “What does she mean?”

  “It is a quicker way. A tourniquet is applied to the arm, and then she inserts the needle directly into a distended vein.” The old woman handed me the hypodermic and left the room again. Coming back with a bandage, she put on a rough tourniquet and Nada’s arm swelled with blood.

  “Give,” Nada said, and I handed her the hypodermic. There was a curiously intent expression on her face as she took it; she handled the thing almost with love. She was perfectly steady now. As the tip of the needle pressed and penetrated the skin, there was a look of sheer sensuality on her face, as if she were receiving a lover. It felt almost indecent of me to be standing there watching.

  The injection made, she lay back, relaxed, with her eyes closed. Soon she smiled, and shifted her body comfortably, sensually. She seemed cocooned in warm contentment. It was a startling change from a matter of minutes before. And I thought it was no wonder the junkies went from dose to dose. The human body and the human mind literally could not take what I had seen Nada Strecka enduring that evening. Soon she began talking normally, but behind all the sudden normality I kept on thinking of one thing, and that was, for the first time I had allowed the word “junky” to come into my mind in connection with Nada; and I had to face the fact that this was precisely what she was — a junky, hooked and possibly hopeless, and I dare say Drakotny had realized that too. That was why he had virtually handed her to me on a plate.

  I felt thoroughly depressed and miserable. Junkies just didn’t fit in, they didn’t belong anywhere. They brought misery to everyone with whom they came into contact. Poor old Fräulein Frossen was the very picture of woe, just to name one kindly soul who had become involved in torment. And agents hadn’t the time, no man who needed to earn a living had the time, to mount a twenty-four-hours-a-day guard duty, fifty-two weeks a year, world without end. But I caught myself up on that, sharpish: I was running way ahead of myself, and of events. Nada Strecka, when fully doped up and appearing close to normal, appealed to me very strongly. I still wanted, very much, to help her; but possibly I had fooled myself; love and pity are not the same things. I had to remember that. But I still felt pretty low about it all.

  I made an effort after a silent battle with myself, because there were still so many things I had to know. The grill had to go into action fast now, and I started with a dead man. I asked, “Did you know Heilersetz, Nada?”

  “By reputation,” she answered.

  “Only by reputation?”

  “Yes. He was a loyal old guy, in spite of his ancestry. Loyal to Drakotny and the Government.”

  I didn’t comment on that, but I recalled the thought I’d had about the old man’s probable philosophy of life: if you cant beat ’em, join ’em. He’d done it pretty successfully, on both sides of a very tricky fence, till now. I still hadn’t really got at what he’d been trying to do at the last, though, other than to strike some kind of a blow for Racilek. I dare say that really was about the sum of it, although it was just possible there had been a little concealed self-interest as well. I asked, “You never met him?”

  “No, never. Anything else bothering you?”

  She was looking at me with a small, rather sad smile. I said, “You bet your life there is! One thing: in that police car earlier — on the way in from Heilersetz’s castle — were you, by any chance, trying to pump me, because that’s the impression I had —”

  “Pump you? Look, are you serious?” She sat up straight, her eyes wide.

  I said, “Well — I was. I’m not so sure, now. Since the event, I mean. I just didn’t understand at the time why you were there, why they’d let you have the drugs, why you were talking as you were —”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she broke in. “All I can say is, I wasn’t especially compos mentis, I suppose. I’d been arrested. One way and another, I’d had a shock. Can’t you understand that?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I can. And I’m sorry too, Nada. Now listen: I want you to tell me exactly what was said to you this evening when you were released from police custody. Try to be objective — it could be important.”

  She looked puzzled and said, “They just told me I could go.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she said. “You don’t imagine I’d make a mistake about that sort of conversation, do you?” She laughed.

  “All right,” I said. “Did you have much chance to talk to Drakotny?”

  “No.” There was a shadow in her eyes. She was hurt, badly, I thought. “I never did see him.”

  I said, “But you told me, didn’t you, he said he would send you that supply?”

  “It was just a message,” she said, “that’s all. Starke told me. Did you meet Colonel Starke?”

  “No,” I said, “but Drakotny told me about him — he said I could contact him if necessary. I almost went along for Starke when that heroin didn’t come. Is he a particular friend of Drakotny’s, Nada?”

  She nodded. “They’re old friends. Do I gather you and Josef had a long talk, or something?”

  “We talked, yes. It seems you were right about the pressures on him — pressures on your account. If you want a word of advice, it would be this: keep out of the limelight from now on. Don’t make it hard for Drakotny not to have you arrested again. All right?”

  “If you say so. Give me a cigarette — there’s a box over there.” She pointed to a table, and I did as she’d asked, and lit cigarettes for her and myself. She sucked in a lungful of smoke. She said, as she let it out again, “I don’t want to make it hard for Josef. I wanted to make it easy for him. He’s the one who’s changed, you know — not me!”

  I said, “I think he had no choice, Nada. Remember you yourself spoke of the pressures.”

  “Yes — oh, that’s true. Too damn true. And Josef Drakotny looks after Number One, you see.”

  “It’s natural. The higher you are, the farther you fall. When men reach his heights, they see everything from a different angle. But I think you ought to remember he let you go. That couldn’t have been too easy a thing to do.”

  She laughed and said, “You’ve become quite a Drakotny fan, haven’t you? Did you fall for the charm?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a job to do, and having met Drakotny I’m keener to make a success of it. Which brings me right to the crucial point, of course: Drakotny’s life. He just doesn’t believe his doctors are likely to do him in. At least — I don’t think he does. I did make him stand aside a little, though, and ask himself if he had any symptoms of bodily disease! I don’t know what answers he came up with, but he just might decide to have an independent opinion. That’s what I advised, anyway.” I paused. “Has he ever been the sort of man to worry about his health?”

  “Not to my knowledge. I’d doubt it anyway. He has a body like Tarzan’s, smooth, plenty of muscle …”

  “Plenty of fat.”

  She looked at me, offended. “Not plenty! A little, yes. Not obtrusive. It’s in the right places.”

  “Not enough for him to worry about, healthwise?”

  “I told you — no. Josef was never a hypochondriac.”

  I said, “Well, I wish he was. It sometimes makes a man more prudent. Right now, it could make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

  She drew deeply on her cigarette again. “If I were you, I wouldn’t take myself quite so seriously. Josef won’t be leaving it all up to you, you know. He has a whole security outfit to call upon, after all. He’ll use it now, make no mistake about that.”

  “I hope he does,” I said. I did; and he might. But somehow I didn’t pin too much faith on the security boys. Drakotny wasn’t taking this thing seriously enough and he wasn’t going to co-operate as much as he should. No doubt, as I think Nada had once said, men like Drakotny gre
w accustomed to threats of assassination, and of course the same would apply to those who had the task of protection. One day was much like another; a new threat was like the arrival of the morning newspaper and its impact faded just as fast. Protection was a job, and like all jobs, it became a routine grind. You lost your edge. It was perfectly natural.

  I became aware of Nada smiling wanly at me. She said, “Don’t worry too much. You’ve done all you can. So have I. I’ve warned him more or less personally, made sure the message reached him, which is what I wanted. Agreed, I didn’t get to him direct, but I got to him through you.”

  I nodded. “Sure, for what it’s worth. Look, Nada … if you had got to him direct, do you think it would have made any difference?”

  “To his reaction?”

  “Yes.”

  “I always told you it would. But he won’t see me. I’ve realized, now, that that’s final.”

  I said, “All right. But try to convince me of something, will you?”

  “What of?”

  “That your personal warning would, in fact, have made any difference to Drakotny.”

  She looked surprised and said, “I don’t know about convince you. I’d have thought the fact that I took the personal risk of coming back in would say enough.”

  “Sure, but you did expect Drakotny’s protection — and I’d say it was your love for him that brought you back, Nada. Not only to act as your own messenger, as it were. Right, Nada?”

  She screwed up her eyes thoughtfully, trying to be honest and objective. Her nose wrinkled attractively and she looked very young. She said, “No, I don’t think that’s right. I do really believe I could have made a difference. We were so close once, he and I. Besides, I was close to the threat as well.”

  “How d’you mean, close to it?”

  “Well, perhaps that’s not a good word to use. What I mean is … the nod was passed to me for action. Especially so I could warn Josef myself. I told you all that.”

  “Yes,” I said with a touch of weariness. “I know you did.”

  There was a silence between us and then she said, “Well, anyway, I did think I could convince him, make it all so much more urgent than if it was merely reported to him officially as just one more threat.”

  “And that still stands?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you saw him now, you would convince him?”

  There was a new light in her face. “Yes! Why?” She leaned forward. “Do you think you could get him to agree to see me — is that it?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know at all. No promises — nothing like that. But I suppose I could always go and see this Colonel Starke and try to get something done. We may not have much more time — Racilek’s due back within the week now.” I looked at the date on my wrist-watch, more from habit than anything else, since it didn’t take much working out that we had five days left. I should really have warned Drakotny about Racilek’s change of timetable — after all, my job was to save Drakotny still. But I couldn’t do it without compromising the dead Heilersetz and, through him, the Frumms, and this I wouldn’t do. I was going to rely on Drakotny knowing already, and whatever old Heilersetz had said, he very probably did. I said, “In my opinion Drakotny ought to vanish till then. Take a holiday — without his doctors! Get right away from it all.”

  “On his own?”

  Our eyes met. I could read her face plainly. I said, “It would fill the bill very nicely if you were with him, but I can’t hold out any hope of that at all, Nada.”

  She nodded slowly, still looking into my eyes, and then she said, “You’ve never told me just what Drakotny did say to you. About me, I mean.”

  “Oh — didn’t I?”

  “No.”

  “He didn’t say much.”

  “I think he did. And I want to know what it was.”

  I asked, “Do you really mean that?”

  “I really mean that. Come on. No holding back. Just as he gave it to you … his own words. Please. It’s important.” I could see that she really did mean it, though I failed to understand why she wanted to be hurt further — for she must have realized she would be. Anyway, I told her the truth as she had asked. Ex, Drakotny had said, very ex. The field was mine, Drakotny had said, and I did use the word field rather than ditch. Nada flinched a little, but that was all so far as I could see. She kept her expression pretty blank, but she went very quiet for a while and started dragging ferociously at a fresh cigarette. Then a fixed but faraway look came into her eyes and, amazingly, she began singing — something in Czech, I didn’t know the song, but it was all about love, and it was quite erotic. A song Drakotny had sung to her? There was a weird look in her face now and her eyes were gleaming and after a while she got up, and walked up and down the room, still singing that same song of love. The old woman came in at one point, looking terribly concerned — she must have heard through the wall — but Nada turned on her in a fury and drove her out of the room. Then she went on singing again. Only for a short while longer, though, and then suddenly she stopped and came across towards me and knelt in front of me, resting her forearms on my knees.

  I reached out and touched her cheek. I said, feeling how inadequate it was, “I’m so sorry, Nada.”

  “What about?”

  “Well — you know — Drakotny and you.”

  “Thank you. You are a good man. I have said that before, I think.” She hesitated, and lowered her head, so that she was no longer looking at me, and I saw the cascading of her hair across her bent shoulders. I felt the terrible shake that was at times so much a part of the girl, but, somehow, this time it seemed to me to come from a different impulse. She went on, “But however good, you are still a man, like Drakotny. And I am a woman. Do you mind if I’m terribly, terribly frank?”

  She looked up at me again then. I said, “Of course not, Nada. Go on.”

  “All right,” she said. “They say heroin takes away one’s sex drive. It doesn’t. It’s a lot of rubbish. At least, with me it is.”

  I got the drift, of course; but I couldn’t, I felt, take her too literally. I said, “I’m not quite sure how to take that.”

  “You’re not?” She gave a high, brittle-sounding laugh. “Oh, my dear man, don’t you see? Have you forgotten what Drakotny said?”

  *

  That night, the field was very definitely mine. Nada flicked the lights off and turned the key in the door, and told me to stir the fire up, which I did, feeling a mounting surge of excitement run through all my body. With the glow of the coals, and the flickering flames, on her, Nada slowly undressed. It was one of the most delightful experiences of my life. She had a straight, slim body, firm buttocks, firmly rounded breasts; the ends of her hair caressed shoulders tanned by Californian suns. Undressed, she came to me with a gentle shyness that I hadn’t expected after the way she had brought this situation on, and she leant her head on my shoulder, and her arms slid around my waist, and our bodies touched. She was trembling again now. I lifted her and carried her to the sofa. She was eager and wonderfully responsive, though just at first there was a slight rigidity that gradually evaporated into relaxation. As she kissed my lips with an avid hunger I felt her tears on my face; I lifted my head a little, and looked down upon her, and watched the light from the flames in the grate playing softly over her face and hair and breasts, and saw too that her eyes were open and that she was staring, staring not at me but into some void, seeing something that I could not see, and I fancied that her thoughts were elsewhere, that I was only a substitute, a relief, even an object of transference, a proxy. Yes, a proxy. I knew she was still, as she had always been, Drakotny’s girl.

  *

  As the fire died, we slept, Nada and I. I had accepted my role. It wasn’t flattering, but it was understandable, and it was a help to Nada. Besides, her response had been genuine enough and before she fell asleep she told me, honestly and sincerely, that she had enjoyed it and I had made her happier. There was some quali
ty in her voice that told me quite clearly that had it not been for Drakotny, she and I would have been exclusive lovers and happy together. That pleased me a lot. Infatuation? Yes — I suppose so. Yet it’s perfectly possible to fall genuinely in love on brief acquaintance, and one way and another we had quite a number of shared experiences to fall back upon by this time. I was thinking about all this when I fell asleep, with Nada in my arms and breathing gently down my chest and stomach. I don’t know how long we slept; but we were woken suddenly and sharply by an urgent thundering at the locked door, and I sat up straight. So did Nada.

  “What’s that?” she asked in a frightened voice.

  “Probably Fräulein Frossen coming to bolt the stable door,” I said, “just a trifle late!” I was already climbing into my shirt and trousers. The door rocked again, as though someone was trying to bring it down with a shoulder, and that wouldn’t be Fräulein Frossen. It wasn’t. Half dressed I went across and unlocked the door and a man in the uniform of a Colonel in the Security Police nearly fell on top of me. I didn’t know who he was, but he seemed to know Nada Strecka. The old woman was behind him, tut-tutting hard.

  He smiled politely, and gave a small bow with his heels together. Sharp eyes impolitely roved Nada’s naked body before she had seized a cushion. From behind this strategic cover she said, “Good evening, Colonel Starke. Have you come to arrest me again?”

  “No, it is not that.” Starke, a stringy man with hollow cheeks and an unmilitary stoop, turned his head to glance at Fräulein Frossen. “Please leave us,” he said. The old woman scuttled away, with a worried backward glance at Nada. Starke advanced farther into the room and stood with his back to the fire, looking down on the girl with his lips working, upper folding over lower and vice versa. It was quite a nasty look he had, leer and all. He said, “I wish words with Commander Shaw — on Comrade Drakotny’s behalf. You may dress if you wish.”