At this juncture the chambermaid brought the coffee. She set it on a table and withdrew.
Copper followed her out, closing the door behind him.
"Let's have another look at the attache case," suggested Gimlet.
They went back to the bedroom. Handling the piece of luggage carefully Gimlet examined it. There was little to see. The case was a second-hand one on which the name had recently been painted. There was a small hole in one corner, as if the leather had been punctured by careless handling. Gimlet laid an ear to it. "It ticks," he reported quietly. "That means a clockwork device of some sort." Still handling the case gently he tried to open it, but it was locked and none of
his keys would fit it. "We'd better not try using force," he remarked, replacing the case.
A minute or two later Copper came back. "There's only one thing, sir," he reported. '
There's a taxi a bit along the other side of the road. I noticed it there when we came in. I'
ve just had a closer look at it. There's two men in it besides the driver. One of them seems to be wearing what looks like a porter's uniform. Smells fishy. If the cab was waiting for somebody it'd be empty, except for the driver. Does your window overlook the street, sir?"
Gimlet said it did.
Copper switched off the light and drawing the curtain aside, looked out. "It's still there,"
he announced. Releasing the curtain he switched on the light again.
"They may be the body snatchers," opined Gimlet. Cub raised his eyebrows. "Body snatchers?"
Gimlet shrugged. "They want me alive, I imagine, in order to carry out their execution ritual. It would require at least two men to carry me. The driver would have to stay with the cab. Did you take it's number, corporal?"
"Yes, sir. If it is the enemy I'm wondering how they got hold of the cab."
"They might have stolen it from a rank."
Copper shook his head doubtfully. "Not likely. If a cab was pinched every bobby in London would be on the lookout for it in five minutes. It would have been spotted before this."
"You're sure it's a pukka taxi?"
"Absolutely. No fake about it. Of course, they might 'ave got 'old of an old cab from the scrap heap and done it up."
"I suppose so." Gimlet thought for a moment, and then went on. "When in doubt, it's a good thing to try to see through the enemy's eyes. The first thing to remember is, the enemy wants me alive. Naturally, they would work out what my movements are most likely to be. In London few people in hotels settle down before midnight. Let us say, then, that
nothing is likely to happen until that time. Anything can happen afterwards. Very well.
Clearly, it would be next to impossible for the enemy to take me out of this hotel and across the street to the cab if I was conscious, because the noise I should certainly make would attract attention. So we may safely assume that when I am removed from this room I shall be—well, if not actually unconscious, in a condition which would make me powerless to resist. I shall certainly be escorted out. As the hour is getting late it is unlikely that I shall go out again to-night, so it follows that the enemy will have to come here for me. It will be interesting to see how they propose to get me out without attracting attention. They must have a reasonable plan or they wouldn't attempt it. What they may not know is, first, that I am not here alone, and secondly, that I shall be waiting for them."
"So all we have to do is bash 'em when they come," suggested Copper cheerfully.
Gimlet looked pained. 'Oh no. Nothing so primitive as that."
"But this is our chance to grab a brace of Werewolves—
maybe three," asserted Copper, looking disappointed.
"What good would that do?" demanded Gimlet.
"There would be two skunks less in the world, anyhow," declared Copper.
"That may be, but we should destroy our only link between the enemy and his headquarters," argued Gimlet. "These fellows will probably be junior operatives. We've got to get at the head man. The ideal thing would be to let these fellows think they have got what they came for, so that we shall know where they go when they have done the job. I'm inclined to let their plan work—up to a point."
Trapper clicked his tongue. get it," he grunted.
"D'you mean you're planning to let them carry you out?" asked Cub, incredulously.
"I'm toying with the idea," admitted Gimlet. "You'll be watching, of course."
Copper shook his head. "I don't like it," he averred bluntly. "It's too risky. We might lose sight of you, and that's easy enough in London—don't I know it. Next time we see you you'd be on a slate slab in the mortuary. No, I don't like it. We're dealing with wolves, not rabbits.
"Perhaps there is a better way," concurred Gimlet. "We could wait here until the enemy shows his hand, anyway. We should at least get a sight of them. We ought to be able to grab them."
"And make them talk," suggested Copper.
"They wouldn't talk—they're Nazis."
"Sacre! I know a trick, an Indian showed it to me, that makes dead men talk," asserted Trapper earnestly.
"I've told you before, Trapper, I bar torture, said Gimlet curtly.
"Pity," breathed Trapper, shaking his head. "It saves time and trouble."
"If we caught them we should hand them over to the General for interrogation," decided Gimlet. "Before doing that, however, you, corporal, and Trapper, could put on their hats and coats and escort me to the cab, which would then—we hope—drive on to its destination, where the enemy would find he'd caught a tartar. Cub could follow in another car to check up in case of accidents." Gimlet glanced at his watch. "It's a quarter past eleven," he announced. "Let's start to get organised.'
"They'll expect to find you in bed," Cub pointed out. "I shall be in bed," answered Gimlet.
"What—with your clothes off?" inquired Copper in a voice of astonishment.
"No, with my clothes on," returned Gimlet evenly. "Won't they think that's a bit odd?"
queried Cub.
"I shall pull my pyjamas on over my clothes," said Gimlet.
"We shall have to lock the outer door, of course. If we failed to do that it would look suspicious. Having put the lights out I shall get into bed, leaving the door between the sitting-room and the bedroom open.
You will take up positions where you can't be seen. All we shall have to do is then wait.
When I give the signal Cub will switch on the lights and we'll grab every one in these rooms. No shooting—we don't want more noise than can be prevented. By acting quickly we ought to be able to stop the enemy from using his weapons—whatever they may be.
"Then you're going to leave the attache case where it is?" queried Cub.
"Oh no," answered Gimlet. "Ask yourself—why did they put it here? It wasn't for fun.
When they come they'll expect to find me unconscious. What is going to make me unconscious? Obviously the medium is in the attache case. What is it most likely to be?
Again the answer shouldn't be hard to find. Gas. Gas is a Nazi speciality. Don't forget the little hole in the attache case. I'd risk a wager that the little case contains gas, with an arrangement to set it off about midnight or soon after. I may be wrong, but I'm not prepared to take the risk. We should not justify the General's confidence if we fell for such a trick."
"But what can we do with the case?" asked Cub.
Gimlet thought for a moment. "It won't do to go out again, and we daren't risk gassing other people in the hotel. I'll put it in the chimney," he decided. "It should be safe there.
The draught will carry the gas up and out of the way."
Handling it carefully he took the attache case, and carrying it to the large old-fashioned fireplace lodged it just above the bars, with the escape hole at the upper end. "That ought to do it," he observed. 'But come on—it's twelve o'clock. We'd better see about getting into our action stations."
CHAPTER Et
NIGHT WATCH
ALMOST imperceptibly the muffled
murmur of traffic in Piccadilly began to subside.
Periods of quiet became more frequent and more clearly defined. The buses stopped running. To those in suite thirty the hum of an occasional passing taxi came faintly, a sound remote and detached.
Gimlet, with pyjamas over grey flannel trousers and a sweater, was in bed. The others could not see him because they were in the sitting-room and the bed was out of line with the door. In any case, all lights had been switched off, although a feeble glow from street lamps filtered through the bedroom window, the blinds of which had not been drawn.
The door leading into the corridor outside had been locked, for to leave it unlocked, Gimlet had opined, would look suspicious. Copper had taken up a standing position behind the heavy curtain that covered the sitting-room window, a position from which, as the window overlooked the street, he could watch the suspicious taxi. Cub, with Trapper beside him, reclined in comparative comfort behind the settee, half supported by cushions removed from that piece of furniture.
In these positions they had waited, without incident, for half an hour. Occasionally footsteps padded softly on the carpeted corridor beyond the door, and on each such occasion Cub's nerves tingled with anticipation; but so far the footsteps had always passed on, presumably being those of other guests retiring to their rooms for the night.
Once a woman laughed, a harmless and natural expression, but one so out of character with the circumstances behind the closed door that Cub frowned. As time wore on, however, such sounds became less frequent. The whirr of a distant lift and the faint clang of its
gates, almost constant earlier in the evening, became intermittent, the intervals of silence lengthening as fewer guests remained to go to their beds.
Waiting is always tedious. Cub yawned. The atmosphere seemed oppressive, unduly so, even making allowance for the fact that the windows had been closed to deaden the street noises. He yawned again, wiping a hand across his forehead on which tiny beads of perspiration had formed, and then settling himself more comfortably on an elbow. He could not understand why he was so tired. Thinking became an effort. He could have fallen asleep easily. Presently he did in fact catch himself nodding. This did not worry him overmuch. The others, he reflected drowsily, would wake him when the vigil ended.
He heard Copper say, in a low voice: "The taxi's moving; it's coming over to our side; it's creeping along the curb; it's stopped about ten yards down." The voice seemed strangely distant. It seemed to Cub that his hearing had become defective. Pondering in a detached sort of way on this peculiar occurrence he decided that the curtain behind which Copper stood must have muffled the sound.
When, presently, his ears began to sing, he became faintly alarmed. There was something wrong with his hearing. Not only with his hearing. He became aware of a peculiar sense of unreality, of detachment from the scene, as if he were a spectator rather than an actor in it. A sudden fear struck him that he was going to be ill. He decided to consult Trapper, and raised himself a trifle. The movement required effort, for his limbs were like lead. "
Open—a--window—Trapper," he said dully, haltingly. His voice sounded far away.
Trapper did not answer.
Copper spoke. "What was that you said, Cub?" he asked, moving aside the curtain.
Cub tried to reply, but could not. He tried desperately. Darkness was closing in on him.
Fear, a sudden fear of something he could not understand, took him by the throat. It partly restored him and spurred him to a tremendous effort. Clutching the back of the settee behind which he had been reclining he strove to drag himself up; but his strength seemed to run out of his finger-tips and he slid back.
"Ere, come on, what's up with you?" demanded Copper. In a vague sort of way Cub saw the curtain move, saw Copper's tall form move forward. It bent over him.
"What's wrong with you?" inquired Copper again. "What's the big idea of going ter sleep
. . ." He took Trapper by the jacket, lifted him a little, then released his hold. Trapper's body flopped back to the floor with a sullen thud. Copper caught his breath sharply and then moved swiftly. There was a swish of curtains. A window scraped. Cool air flooded into the room. Copper snatched up the hearth rug and swung it round his head like a great fan.
The effect on Cub was almost instantaneous. Consciousness returned. He moved, slowly, like one awaking from a deep sleep. His head began to clear. He felt Trapper stir.
"We've been—doped," gasped Cub.
"Doped my foot," snarled Copper savagely. "We've bin gassed. It must 'ave bin that blindin' case."
"Gimlet. What about Gimlet?" said Cub.
Copper strode into the bedroom. A moment later his voice came through the gloom. "
Gimlet's out for the count." He reappeared with the attache case in his hand. He went straight to the door, opened it and disappeared. He was back in a couple of minutes, without it.
"What did you do with it?" asked Cub, rising. "Don't gas the whole hotel."
"I shoved it in a wash place just along," answered Copper. "I'll attend to it properly as soon as we've got things squared up here."
Trapper was now also on his feet, a hand to his forehead, swaying gently. "Sacre nom!
What happens?" he asked in a bewildered voice.
Cub's faculties were returning fast. "We were being gassed," he replied. "But for Copper we should have had it. He must have got away with it because he was standing up, near the window. Let's see about Gimlet."
It took only five minutes to bring Gimlet round, but several more were required to restore him to full consciousness. Brisk work with towels, with doors and windows open, cleared the room of gas.
Gimlet shook his head. "By gad! We nearly bought it that time," he muttered. "I don't understand it. There should have been plenty of draught. . ." He knelt in front of the fireplace and thrust an arm up the chimney. There was a dull metallic thud. When the arm was withdrawn the knuckles were black with soot. "Would you believe that?" he breathed. "One can't think of everything."
"What is it—I don't understand?" murmured Cub.
"I suppose I should have remembered that nearly all these old-fashioned grates have a hinged flap that closes the chimney to prevent draughts when the fireplace is not in use.
This flap is closed. The gas couldn't get up the chimney. We might as well have left the attache case on the floor. But we'll talk about it later. Where's the case now, Copper?"
"I've put it where it won't do no harm fer a bit," answered Copper.
"All right. Close the windows and we'll get back into position. The clockwork device must have been set to release the gas at twelve-thirty, or thereabouts, and the enemy must know exactly how long the stuff takes to operate. They'll be here any minute now."
Cub returned to his position. The others did the same, and a hush, an expectant one now, settled on the apartment. The dragging minutes resumed their interrupted progress.
A distant clock had just struck one when the enemy gave the first intimation of his arrival. Had the silence not been profound the sound would not have been audible. It was no
more than a faint scratching at the door, as if a key, or an instrument, had been inserted in the lock. Trapper nudged Cub, although the warning was unnecessary. Came another sound, this time a gentle click, and Cub knew that the lock had been turned. His eyes were on the door, just discernable in the dim light. It was pushed open, noiselessly, slowly, but deliberately. A figure appeared, vague, sinister, making no more noise than a shadow. It moved two paces into the room and stopped. Cub stiffened, his mouth drying, Was his eyes probed, and probed again, the sombre light, trying to make a human outline of the head and shoulders of the visitor. The head in particular appeared to be distorted.
The figure moved again, so that it revealed a silhouette in profile. Then Cub understood.
The figure was that of a man, but the head, with pointed muzzle and short erect ears, was that of a wolf. The apparition advanced, and such was its stealth that it ap
peared to float rather than walk. It halted again. A second figure materialized in the gloom behind it.
The door closed. A white beam from a small torch stabbed the darkness. The wedge of light moved furtively across the furniture to stop at the bedroom door. Soundlessly the figures advanced again towards the door, to disappear from sight.
With his heart palpitating uncomfortably, for there was something uncanny, unreal, something evil about the whole business, Cub rose from his place of concealment and edged towards the electric light switch. His fingers found and rested lightly on the tiny knob. His eyes never left the bedroom door, and presently, as he watched, a confused mass, moving slowly, filled the opening. He made it out to be Gimlet, with a Werewolf on either side supporting him. Copper was still behind his curtain. Of Trapper there was no sign.
For perhaps ten seconds the scene remained thus, vague, sinister, sluggish in movement; but in that time the picture was engraved indelibly in Cub's brain. Then, on the instant, several things happened simultaneously. The silence was shattered; the spell was broken and the picture leapt to spasmodic life.
Gimlet's voice cut through the gloom with the crisp decisiveness of a whip-lash. He said only two words. "Get 'em." And as he spoke he moved swiftly. Cub flicked on the light, locked the door on the inside and slipped the key in his pocket. By that time Copper had stepped from behind the curtain. Trapper sprang up from the settee and vaulted it with feline speed and grace.
Coincidental with the light flashing on, the three central figures had broken apart, but not very far, for, as the light revealed, Gimlet's arms had closed round the furry necks on either side of him. The two Werewolves struggled convulsively and did, in fact, succeed in breaking away; but by that time Copper was upon them. With one blow he halved the opposition. His right fist swung up in a slashing uppercut that would have made a bull stagger. It took the nearest Werewolf under the pointed muzzle, lifted the creature off its feet and hurled it with a crash against the wall where it subsided like an empty sack. Both Gimlet and Trapper were grappling with the other Nazi whose mask had been torn off in the struggle. Copper's big hand reached out. With a deliberation that fascinated Cub to watch, he grasped the Nazi by the throat and stood him firmly on his feet. His left fist jabbed viciously into the pit of the German's stomach. With a convulsive gasp the man's body closed like a jack-knife. Copper's right swung up to meet the face coming down.
04 Gimlet Mops Up Page 3
