After Walter Lindner had proved to the Argentinian consul in Marseilles that he had a balance of over a million dollars at the Rio de la Plata Bank, he immediately obtained an entry permit for himself and his wife. Lindner than explained that he wished to take M. Jean Leblanc to Buenos Aires as his partner. Thereupon M. Jean Leblanc also had a genuine entry permit stamped on the forged passport with which he had formerly been issued at the spy school near Nancy by the man who called himself Jupiter. On August 26, accordingly, the three of them also obtained Portuguese transit visas. The way to emigration was then clear.
Thomas Lieven next drew up a precise time chart for the plan he had in mind. Quite a lot, including his own life, depended on this plan being adhered to. After a further telephone conversation with Major Debras at Les Milandes the chart read as follows:
August 28: Departure of Thomas Lieven and the Lindners to Marseilles.
August 29: Departure of Major Debras by train via Perpignan, Barcelona and Madrid to Lisbon.
August 30: Thomas Lieven and the Lindners leave Marseilles by air for Lisbon.
September 10: Thomas Lieven and the Lindners leave Lisbon aboard the Portuguese steamer General Carmona for Buenos Aires.
From September 3 onwards Major Debras was to await Thomas Lieven every evening at 10 p.m. in the Estoril casino
to take delivery of that ominous black brief case. Between August 30 and September 3 Thomas hoped to find time to make certain alterations in the contents of the brief case.
With a winning smile an elegantly dressed young gentleman, during the morning of August 29, entered the office of Rainbow Airways, a private American charter company in the rue de Rome at Marseilles. Lifting his Homburg, he approached the ticket counter and addressed the clerk in fluent French. "Good morning, monsieur. My name is Leblanc. I have come to fetch the air tickets to Lisbon for M. and Mme. Lindner and myself."
"One moment, please." The clerk searched his lists. "Yes, here we are. Tomorrow at 1545 hours." He began to write out the tickets.
A small omnibus pulled up outside the office. Two pilots and a stewardess came to the counter. Thomas learned from their talk that they had just landed and would fly tomorrow at 1545 hours to Lisbon. It was then that he had the brain wave.
The stewardess, who could not have been more than twenty-five, began to make up her face. She was built on the lines of a racing yacht, had slanting eyes, high cheekbones, a golden-brown complexion and wonderful chestnut-colored hair falling in a soft wave across her finely molded forehead. She looked a cool, evasive sort, reminding Thomas of a fawn.
He knew that type. He understood exactly what she was like. Once a walking icicle like that began to melt there would be no holding her.
Thomas Lieven dedicated thirty seconds to the affectionate recollection of his parting from Mimi, Sim6on, Jeanne and her ladies in the rue des Bergeres. They had all kissed him, even the colonel. "Freedom forever, comrade!" the latter had . cried. And when the taxi drove up Jeanne had burst into unrestrained sobbing. Oh, it had been a most touching scene, as if they were all one family.
The thirty seconds were over. Ah well, thought Thomas. Circumstances just won't have it so!
The fawn was still making up her face. The fawn dropped her lipstick.
I am impelled by noble motives, Thomas assured himself, with a view to providing a moral foundation for what he meant to do. Then he picked up the lipstick and handed it to the evasive fawn with the brown eyes in which golden gleams came and went.
"Many thanks," said the fawn.
"Let's go, then, shall we?" Thomas suggested.
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Or have you got anything else to do here? I don't mind waiting. I suggest we go first to the Grand Hotel, where I am staying and have an aperitif. After that probably the best place to lunch would be at Guido's in the rue de la Paix. Then we might go swimming."
"I beg your pardon—"
"You don't care to swim? Well then, I propose we stay in the hotel and rest."
"I've never had such an experience as this in all my life!"
"My dear young lady, I'll do my very best to arrange for you to say that again tomorrow morning." Thomas drew his beloved repeater from his waistcoat pocket and made it chime the hour. Eleven strokes and then two sounded clear and soft as a bell. "Half-past eleven. I see I'm making you nervous. I'm aware that I have a most disturbing effect on women. Well, 111 expect you in the bar of the Grand Hotel at—about twelve, shall we say?"
The fawn threw her head back and stalked away, indignation in every tap of her high heels on the stone floor.
Thomas went off to the Grand Hotel, sat down in the bar and ordered whisky. The fawn entered the bar at three minutes past twelve, carrying a swimsuit
[10]
Thomas Lieven, wearing a gray flannel suit, a white shirt, a blue tie, black shoes, his Homburg and his umbrella, strolled beside the two corpulent Lindners in a group of other passengers making their way across the tarmac to the waiting plane. He looked happy, though also a bit heavy-eyed.
Mabel Hastings, the stewardess, stood at the top of the gangway, beside the entrance. She looked happy, though also a bit heavy-eyed.
"Hallo," said Thomas, as he came up the gangway.
"Hallo," said Mabel, the golden gleams in her fine eyes sparkling. She had really never come across anything like Thomas Lieven in all her life. They hadn't after all gone swimming after the lunch at Guido's, but had rested in the hotel, where they both happened to be staying.
As he was helping Mabel Hastings to pack her bag on the morning of August 30, she had quite unconsciously done him
yet another favor, not unconnected with a certain black brief case . . .
The machine taxied past the airport building preparatory to taking off. Thomas, glancing out of the window of the airplane over the smooth turf and a big flock of sheep peacefully grazing beyond it, remembered that sheep were supposed to be lucky. Then he saw a car stop outside the airport building. A man jumped out. He wore a blue, crumpled suit and a crumpled yellow mackintosh. His face was glistening with sweat. He was waving both his arms about.
Thomas felt sorry for him. Bad luck! The plane would be taking off in a moment and that poor chap would have to watch it disappear.
Actually the pilot had just given both engines full throttle, as is always done immediately before taking off.
An icy chill ran down Thomas Lieven's spine. That waving man over there by the airport building ... his face ... he knew that face ... seen it before somewhere ...
Suddenly Thomas Lieven realized where he had seen that face before. The Gestapo headquarters at Cologne! The man over there was Major Loos of German Intelligence!
Keep your head, thought Thomas Lieven. They're after me. But it looks as though Providence is on my side. Major Loos is going to miss me in a minute, for the second time. Only five more seconds now before we take off and then . . .
The plane didn't take off. The roar of the engines at full throttle ceased. The door of the pilot's cabin flew open. Mabel Hastings, cool as ever, appeared on the threshold. She announced in velvety tones: "Ladies and gentlemen, there is no cause for alarm. We have just been informed by radio that a belated passenger has arrived whom it is essential to take aboard at all costs. So we shall pick him up and theft make a fresh start in a few minutes' time."
Shortly afterward Major L&os entered the plane. He apologized to the passengers in English for having delayed their departure and bowed formally to Thomas Lieven. The latter stared straight through him, as if the major had been transparent.
[11]
Lisbon! A narrow ledge of freedom and peace in a Europe being progressively torn to pieces by war and barbarism. Lisbon!
A fantastic paradise of wealth, plenty, beauty and elegance in the midst of a world of distress and misery.
Lisbon!
The happy hunting ground of the secret services, the arena of monstrous and monstrously absurd intrigues.
Thomas Lieven was already deeply involved in them from the moment he landed. Dogged at every step by the weary but indefatigable Major Loos, who had fallen asleep during the flight, snoring gently with his mouth wide open, Thomas Lieven was immediately subjected to a particularly rigorous customs examination. He was stripped to the skin, his luggage was ransacked, his pockets all turned inside out. Someone seemed to have dropped quite a hint to the Portuguese Security Police.
But oddly enough they found neither his substantial fortune in dollars nor that special black brief case in his possession. The customs men dismissed him with ceremonious courtesy. The Lindners had long since driven off to their hotel.
Thomas marched to the passport barrier. Major Loos marched close behind him. Thomas marched to the airport taxi line. Major Loos marched close behind him. They still had not exchanged a single word.
Well, now I'm going to give you a bit of exercise, my lad, thought Thomas, jumping into a taxi. Loos jumped into another. Both vehicles whizzed off toward the center of the city on the seven hills. Thomas had once spent six glorious weeks on holiday in the imposing Portuguese capital and knew his way about it quite well.
He paid the taxi off in the Praca Dom Pedro. The major's taxi stopped just behind his own. The caf6s behind their gardens bordering on the pavement swarmed with Portuguese citizens and refugees, all engaged in vociferous debate. Thomas Lieven, as he passed them, could hear every language of Europe.
He plunged into the milling crowds, followed closely by the major, who made desperate efforts not to lose sight of him.
Now, said Thomas mentally to the major, well start using our legs a bit, my lad. Exercise is good for the health.
Accordingly, Thomas marched rapidly downhill to the narrow little streets leading to the sea and then uphill again to the steeply rising main arteries of traffic. He made use of short cuts and arcades, darted unexpectedly around corners, but always took care not to overstrain the major to an intolerable
extent He wanted his pursuer to curse him—but not to lose him.
Thomas Lieven continued his game of catch-me-if-you-can for over an hour. Then he hailed another taxi and drove, followed by the major, to the fishing village of Cascais, near the fashionable seaside resort of Estoril. He knew a smart open-air restaurant in the village.
The sun went down, blood-red, into the sea. A warm wind rose as the evening came on. The small fishing village in a bay of the Tagus estuary was the most picturesque spot anywhere near Lisbon. Thomas Lieven was looking forward to watching a drama which took place there every evening, when the fishing fleet came in.
He alighted from his taxi in front of the restaurant. The major's old rattletrap pulled up behind him. The German Intelligence officer, gasping for breath, tottered into the open air. He looked wretched.
Thomas decided to stop the cruel game he was playing. He went up to Loos, raised his Homburg and spoke to him kindly, as if to a lost child. "Well, we might as well take a bit of a rest here now. I'm sure the last few days have been a great strain on you."
"You can say that again." The major did his best to maintain the prestige of his profession. He snarled: "You can go to the end of the world, Lieven. But you won't escape me a second time!"
"Don't be too sure, dear boy, don't be too sure. We're not in Cologne now, you know. A German major doesn't amount to so very much in this part of the world, Loos, my friend."
The Major in mufti swallowed hard. "I should be obliged if you'd call me Lehmann, M. Leblanc."
"That's better! I much prefer your present tone of voice, Herr Lehmann. Be seated, pray. Look down there. Isn't that marvelous?"
Out at sea the fishing fleet, a swarm of lateen-sailed vessels, resembling so many butterflies, was coming into harbor in the Tagus estuary. Just as they had a thousand years ago, the fishermen dragged their boats on wooden rollers up the beach, shouting and singing. Women and children came to help them. Fires kindled in small kilns all along the darkening shore.
Thomas, as he gazed down at the beach, inquired: "How did you come to trace me?"
"We had no difficulty as far as Toulouse, despite all your precautions. The ladies at Mme. Jeanne's behaved very nobly. Neither our threats nor our promises could get a word out of them."
"Who gave the game away, then?"
"A tough called Alphonse. He had it in for you, for some reason."
"Ah, yes, poor Bebe's boy friend. I had to touch him up a bit." Thomas half closed his eyes at the recollection. Then he opened them to stare hard at the major. "Portugal is a neutral country, Herr Lehmann. I may as well warn you that I shall defend myself."
"But my dear Herr Liev—sorry, I mean M. Leblaiic, you have quite a wrong idea of the situation. I have orders from Admiral Canaris to ensure your complete immunity if you return to Germany. And I also have orders to purchase from you the black brief case you know of."
"Oh."
"How much do you want?" The major bent across the table. "I know perfectly well that you still have the lists."
Thomas dropped his eyes. Then he stood up, murmuring a brief apology. "Sorry, I have to telephone now."
But he did not go to the telephone booth in the restaurant. In the circumstances he thought that would be hardly safe enough. He walked a few yards along the street to a public kiosk, where he called up the Hotel Palacio do Estoril-Parque, and asked to speak to Miss Hastings. The American stewardess answered immediately, "Oh, Jean, where on earth have you been? I've been longing to see you!"
"I'm afraid 111 be a bit late. Held up by a—ahem—a business conference. Mabel, this morning, while I was helping you to pack in Marseilles, I inadvertently put a black leather brief case into your bag. Do be an angel and take it down to the porter, so that he can put it in the hotel safe."
"Of course I will, darling ... and please, please, don't make it too late, will you? You know I shall be flying to Dakar tomorrow."
As he listened to the girl's voice, Thomas suddenly felt quite certain that someone was eavesdropping outside the telephone box. He pushed open the door abruptly. A cadaverous-looking man staggered back with a cry of pain, clutching at his forehead.
"Oh, pardon," said Thomas Lieven. Then he raised his eye-
brows, smiling resignedly. He knew the fellow, who looked like a close relative of Major Loos. Thomas had met the man at the London airport in May 1939, when he had been deported. It was this fellow who had deported him.
furiously: "I suppose you still think that we of the secret service are idiots, don't you?"
The man who had just called himself Leblanc replied politely: "I beg you not to press me for an answer to that leading question."
The British agent came up quite close to him. "Do you suppose we don't know that Admiral Canaris himself wants to get hold of you? Do you suppose that we don't tap German transmissions in London?"
"I thought they went out in code."
'We can crack their code."
"And the Germans can crack yours," said Thomas, suddenly beginning to feel extraordinarily cheerful. "Why don't both your teams get together and play Kiss-in-the-Ring?"
The Englishman retorted sternly: "I know you're a heartless cynic. I know nothing is sacred to you. I saw through you right from the start, at the airport in London. You are the sort of man who has no sense of honor, no morals, no patriotism, no decency..."
"Flatterer!"
"That was why I said straight away, Let me tackle the fellow, he only understands one kind of language—" Lovejoy rubbed his forefinger and thumb together.
"Just a moment. One thing at a time, please. I ask you again what brings you here . . ."
Lovejoy told him. According to his account of the matter—and one had to believe him—the British secret service had really tapped all the transmissions which had anything to do with the search of Major Loos for Thomas Lieven. The last of them had revealed the good news that Loos would be following the wanted man to Lisbon.
"To Lisbon," said Lovejoy finally. "I flew
out at once by courier aircraft, arriving two hours ahead of you. I followed you here from the airport. You and the other gentleman sitting over there on the restaurant terrace. I assume that's Major Loos."
"I say, you're a sharp fellow! You don't yet know the major personally?"
"No."
"Good Lord! Well then, you must come along to the restaurant and I'll introduce you to each other. We'll dine together, on mussels of course, in Cascais you just have to eat mussels..."
"Stop talking rot, will you? We know you're playing a double game—"
"Oho?"
"You're in possession of a brief case containing lists of the most important French agents in France and Germany. I shan't permit you to auction off those lists to that precious Major Loos, though naturally he'll offer you plenty of money for them—"
"Hush, hush—"
"But I'll offer you just as much, more!" Love joy laughed scornfully. "I know that money's all you care about. For you there are no such things as honor, faith, conscience, remorse, idealism, decency—"
"That'll do," Thomas Lieven interrupted in measured tones. "I've heard quite enough now and you'd better shut your trap double-quick. Who stopped me returning to England and continuing my life as a peaceable citizen? Who helped to upset my whole existence? You and your infernal, accursed secret service. You don't suppose, do you, sir, that I have any special fondness for you?"
He was thinking: I'll give you something to chew over before long, you devils, the whole lot of you!
"Sorry I had to leave you for a while," said Thomas Lieven as he returned to Major Loos three minutes later, the officer who might really have been taken for a close relative of his Anglo-Saxon colleague.
"Met a friend, didn't you? I saw you standing over there by the telephone box."
"Oh, yes, an old friend. And incidentally one of your rivals, Herr Lehmann."
Dozens of storm lanterns had by this time been lit on the terrace of the restaurant. The solemn, deep-throated singing of the fishermen could still be heard down below. A gentle south-wester was blowing up from the Tagus estuary, where the waters had taken on the hue of smoky mother-of-pearl in the twilight.
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 11
