He strode towards the nearest red telephone box. One of his men was already inside it, pretending to have a long and involved conversation with an imaginary friend, but in reality keeping the ‘phone available for instant communication. He pulled open the heavy door and grunted ‘out!’ Ashcroft quickly passed him the receiver and hurriedly scuttled out, not liking the look of irritation he saw on his superior’s face.
Johnson quickly dialled the area code and numbers and waited for the call to go through. He needed to speak to the Chief urgently.
Kinnerton Street 1325
Ruiz looked a sorry sight. He was bound hand and foot, a double length of cord firmly securing his wrists down towards his ankles, in a short tight arc. Simon had already removed his coat and hat. Ruiz lay on the grimy floor of an alley just behind a restaurant that bordered onto Wilton Place, wide eyed and scared, in terror of what might happen next. But torture was the last thing on Simon’s mind. What he needed was the Spaniard’s cooperation. As a gesture, he hid the PPK inside his jacket, speaking softly to him in gentle, reassuring tones as best as he could.
‘Don’t panic, Señor. Like I said, I have no reason to hurt you. All I’m going to do is borrow your coat and hat for a few minutes.’ It was risky, but Ruiz’s clothes might help in flushing out the mole and identifying himself. ‘If I get the chance, I’ll come back, untie you, then you can go back to the embassy, and nobody need know anything more.’ It was a blatant lie. Simon had no intention of returning. Eventually someone
would discover where Ruiz lay, hidden behind some dustbins, and as long as it was sometime after two o’clock it didn’t matter. The Spaniard would not come to any permanent harm, although he might need to change his trousers, judging by the smell of things.
He tried again. ‘All I need to know is a few more things about your mysterious friend. Which way he came into the park, anything at all that you can tell me about him. Please.’ There was no response. Time was running out, and he needed to get moving soon. He thought desperately for a few moments, then suddenly it came to him. The Spaniard was a Catholic, undoubtedly. So was Simon, although he had never been a particularly zealous churchgoer. But maybe an appeal to Ruiz’s religious faith might calm him down- it was worth a try. He had nothing left to lose.
‘I vow to the Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of God, and to all that’s sacred and holy, that I will not harm you.’ He tried to sound as sincere as possible.
Amazingly, it looked as if it was working. The Spaniard gradually became visibly calmer, his breathing under better control, his eyes less wild and panicky. After a minute or two of gathering himself together he nodded, and croaked a few short sentences. There was not a great deal to it, but any information was better than nothing, even though it was hard to tell how useful the information would be.
‘I’m glad you decided to cooperate, Señor. I must leave you now. Thank you for helping me - it may have saved many lives. Now open your mouth.’
Ruiz suddenly panicked and tried to cry out, his nostrils and eyes flaring in terror. But before he could utter a scream Simon slammed a hand down on Ruiz’s mouth, none too gently. Then, fishing out a handkerchief, he stuffed it inside the Spaniard’s mouth and secured it with a piece of cord wrapped around his head. Ruiz struggled, trying to move his body and lash out, but all that did was make his predicament worse. In a way it was almost funny, watching the frightened man attempting to wriggle his way out of his bindings.
‘Please, Señor, try to relax,’ he tried to reassure the Spaniard. ‘Breathe through your nose. If you calm down you won’t choke. And remember, if I had wanted to kill you, I would have done so by now. Adios.’
He stood up, and checked his watch. All the time Ruiz watched him wildly, his face contorting as he desperately tried to move the handkerchief. Nearly one-thirty- time to find a good vantage point in the park, somewhere where I can keep an eye on several entrances at once. He checked Ruiz one last time- despite the gag, he looked all right, although highly uncomfortable. There was no sign of him turning blue. He picked up the Daily Telegraph and packed lunch. They would come in useful as cover.
Stanhope Hotel 1330
Menzies ground his teeth in frustration. Bugger and blast!Where the hell was the Spaniard? He’d just finished talking to Johnson at the Albert Gate. All the rest of his watchers and teams had reported in - there was no sign of Ruiz, nor anyone else behaving suspiciously. The Spaniard always followed exactly the same route from the embassy to the park. He cursed silently to himself again, well aware of his error - he should have had Ruiz trailed all the way from the front door. Something must have happened between the embassy and the Brompton Road. But there was no time now for a post-mortem on what had gone wrong- that would have to come later. He needed to act straight away, and fast.
He whirled towards Simmonds. ‘Righto, get on the blower to MI5 immediately. Get two of their teams to check the route from the Embassy to the Park, as a matter of urgency. Check all possible routes and variations. We need to find out what’s happened to Ruiz- has he been waylaid, that sort of thing. Get on with it- I’ll take care of the rest!’
Simmonds nodded and picked up one of the telephones. Menzies had placed a reserve of MI6 men downstairs, just in case an unexpected development occurred. He would now use them to patrol the remaining park entrances, covering the gaps left behind by MI5’s departure.
Hyde Park 1332
The heavy coat was far too warm, so he slung it over his shoulder for the moment. He could put it back on later. The hat would be useful, though, helping to form part of his makeshift disguise. He hoped it might even fool any interested watchers. After all, the British must have a description of him by now, maybe even a photograph to circulate among their agents. That was why he had borrowed a suit from Patricia’s house - one of the ones that her dead husband had worn. It was hanging up in a closet on one of the spare rooms. The fit was approximate- it was slightly too big for him, but he had had enough time to turn up the trousers that morning. The sleeves would have to take care of themselves.
Simon decided on a slightly roundabout route, just in case. From what Ruiz had told, he still had plenty of time. At the previous meet his contact had turned up just before two o’clock, and would most likely do the same again. He headed west, slipping up another alleyway that led into a fashionable mews. At the far end, there was another hotel. He turned right onto Seville Street. The busy Brompton road loomed directly up ahead. Seizing his chance, he ran across the traffic and continued onwards, ending up in another alleyway that snaked its way diagonally towards the south edge of the park. So far he had not spotted anything unusual, but now he was definitely heading into an area that would be under observation. A quick check around a corner revealed nothing untoward, and he turned right to where the open area of South Carriage Drive bordered the Park. His heart raced, more from the tension of the moment than the exercise, even though there was no sign of anyone taking an interest in him. He walked rapidly across the space, looking straight ahead but straining to watch for signs of observation out of the corners of his eyes. But there were no shouts, no sudden movement from any loitering figures. Nor did the skin across his back twitch - his sixth sense of danger.
The Edinburgh gate lay before him, surrounded at its rear by a heavily wooded part of the park. He slipped inside and cut across to his left, moving quietly through the trees. His plan was to walk up towards where the Serpentine lay, then turn left and head past where the restaurant and café were situated on its southern shore. A small footbridge crossed the southern expanse of the lake just after that point. There he would turn right, traverse the bridge and cut back along the northern side to reach the area north of where the meeting should take place. He would quietly observe from a distance, checking for signs of surveillance. He knew from his previous visit that if he stayed at the edge of the trees he would be able to observe all the paths that led to the rendezvous location from the north, the direction where Ruiz had told him ‘Rothermere
’ should come from.
It took him another ten minutes to get into position, shielded behind a large oak. Twenty meters in front of him the path led further on to the park bench. In the other direction it stretched back north towards a building wrapped in a thicket of trees, and beyond that the upper border of the park. He settled down to wait.
Stanhope Hotel 1351
‘What? You’ve found him- where?’ Menzies gripped the receiver fiercely, concentrating as he had never done before. He was like a man desperately clinging onto a ledge, aware that the slightest slip could plunge him over the edge and down to a distant death. ‘What’s he said? Give me a description- quick!’
He listened to the tinny voice on the other end of the ‘phone for a few moments, then abruptly cut through the conversation. ‘Right, get him back to the embassy. Get everyone else back here at the double. If it’s going to happen, it’ll be now. Get cracking!’
Hyde Park 1352
A tall man in a dark grey suit and fedora hat was walking down towards him, along the path that led down from the north border of the park. As he loomed closer Simon could make out his features more clearly, very similar to the descriptions both Schellenberg and Ruiz had provided. Tall, patrician looking, in his late fifties, and with a distinctive nose, he strode determinedly along the avenue, not bothering to take in his surroundings but firmly intent on his destination. A newspaper was rolled up under his arm. That’s him! His pulse quickened. It was time to act. Simon put on Ruiz’s coat, stepped out from behind the oak tree and slipped quietly towards the path, cutting down the distance to the approaching man.He broke cover just before they came level to each other.
‘Excuse me. I’m terribly sorry, old boy, but my watch appears to have stopped. Do you have the correct time?’
The taller man stopped. He seemed distracted for a moment, and then studied him carefully, taking in his appearance. Then he glanced at his watch. ‘Eight minutes to two.’
Simon smiled, moving closer. ‘That’s very kind of you, Mr… I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.
‘That’s because I didn’t mention it,’ the taller man snapped and was about to walk off when something held him back. The hat and coat, so inappropriate in this warm weather, looked odd but familiar. Where had he seen it before?
Simon moved closer still. ‘Excuse my rudeness, but haven’t I seen your face before, somewhere?’ He was the very picture of apologetic enquiry. ‘Does the word ‘Rothermere’ ring a bell?’
The other man continued to stare at him coolly. Only the sudden flare of his nostrils as his breathing momentarily stopped betrayed his reaction. ‘What impertinence!’ He barked arrogantly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be-‘
He made as if to walk on. Before he could move further Simon stepped in his path, pulled the PPK out of his trouser pocket and swiftly jammed it into the taller man’s side.
‘Señor Ruiz will not be joining you today, and you will not be continuing down this path to where you met him before.’ This time the older man gave a definite start at the mention of the Spaniard’s name. Simon carried on quietly. ‘I think it would be very bad for your health if you continued in that direction. The place is crawling with British intelligence agents. What you can feel pressing between your ribs is a loaded pistol. But I’m not here to harm you. In fact, if I’ve judged it correctly, the person you need to speak to is me, not Ruiz. We are, after all, on the same side. So I suggest we change course, head back to where you’ve come from and find somewhere quiet to talk. Don’t try to run, no sudden moves.’ He smiled grimly. ‘I’ll be right beside you, wherever you go. Come on, let’s move.’
Stanhope Hotel 1354
‘Sir! I’ve just spotted someone emerging from the trees, north of the location. Looks a bit like the description we have of Ruiz. Same coat and hat.’ Rattigan, the sniper, was also using a pair of high-powered binoculars to scan the area.
‘What? It can’t be Ruiz- they’ve just found him!’ Menzies looked anxiously in the direction of where Rattigan was pointing his binoculars. It must be several hundred yards away from where the park bench lay, at least. ‘Damn it, man- I can’t pick him up. Where the hell is he?’
Rattigan briefed his boss as quickly and accurately as he could. ‘He’s just stopped another man coming down that path that leads in from the top end of the park. Tall, hat, dark grey suit. Wait- they’re turning around, back to the north, away from the location. Got them yet, chief?’
Menzies feverishly scanned the area, trying to impose a methodical search pattern over the almost overpowering quiver of excitement he felt.His anxiety about losing the target threatened to overwhelm his senses. Suddenly he froze, desperately trying to still the rapid beating of his heart.
‘Yes!’ He shouted exultantly. He studied the distant figures, trying to take a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. Despite the power of the lenses he was having a hard time isolating the faces of the two men under surveillance. Suddenly he made his mind up.
‘Quick, get onto that sniper’s rifle of yours and track them.’ Rattigan jumped to obey. After a few seconds of moving the rifle onto the target and adjusting the telescopic scope, he reported in. ‘All ready and set. What do you want me to do, Chief?’
‘Keep them in your sights. I think the shorter of the two is our German spy. The taller man is completely unfamiliar- our mole. Be ready to shoot at an instant. Simmonds, get on the ‘phone- move all the teams at the south end of the park north towards that building in the centre. Get MI5’s cars to cover the northern edge of the park and block all the exits. Tell them to disregard all traffic regulations and get up there at top speed.’
‘But which one do you want me to aim at?’ Rattigan persisted.
Menzies watched as the two figures moved nearer to the building. Which one to go for- the presumed mole or this German spy? Both men looked to be carrying newspapers- maybe that was the way they were exchanging information. And O’Malley might even have the information by now. But the taller man, he could well be the traitor who was trying to sell the liberation of Europe down the river. He needed to be permanently stopped if the secret of the invasion site was to be kept safe. Which one? And what would happen if he was wrong, what would the consequences be? It was Hobson’s choice.
‘Aim for the shorter man. Don’t shoot to kill- a disabling shot only. Then do the same for the other one. Wait for my word.’
Hyde Park 1357
‘How did you get here?’ Simon asked. They had just reached the building set among the trees. A double semi-circular complex of paths led around towards the front and rear entrances.
‘I’m glad you asked, Mister…Or is it Herr?’
‘You can call me Max.’ He was getting a little tired of all the subterfuges in his life. Besides, what difference did it make now? ‘Max Simon. That’s my real name.’
‘Good.’ The older man looked at him coolly. ‘My car’s parked around the back of this building. Rank hath its privileges, as they say. The park is normally barred to motor cars, but I have a special pass. If you follow me I’ll show you the way. My driver is waiting for me.’
‘After you’. Simon still kept his hand on the PPK, concealed in his trouser pocket. As they turned off towards the building he glanced back the way they had come. A group of men was running as hard as they could towards them from the southern end of the park, no more than one hundred and fifty meters away.
‘Quick! They’re onto us. Run as fast as you can to the car.’
Stanhope Hotel 1358
‘They’re running, chief. What’s happening?’
‘Blast!’ Menzies shouted. ‘They’ve spotted our team. Take them down, now!’
Hyde Park 1359
It was the wind that saved him. A moderate gust had suddenly sprung up, not enough to cause branches to start swaying as yet, but just enough to cause a sniper’s bullet to deviate fractionally from its path. Rattigan could not sense this inside the hotel room, isolated as he was from the elements.
The shot was nearly seven hundred yards away, far enough for a bullet to yaw and nutate sufficiently from its desired path to be slightly off target. But Rattigan had taken that into account when he had first set up the rifle and adjusted the sights for distance. No, the wind provided that little bit of extra deviation. It made all the difference.
Simon felt the sting in his thigh, well after the round had ricoched off the gravel in front of him and screeched away into the distance. It was enough to make him stagger slightly, but he regained his balance and ran on.
‘Run from side to side,’ he gasped, trying urgently to sprint in an irregular pattern. ‘They’re firing at us.’ The older man was lagging behind, but the drive was bending to the right. They would soon be obscured as they curved around the building.
Wheeeyangg. Something jerked his sleeve. Another bullet screeched off to an unknown destination. Then they were around the corner and out of view. Rothermere suddenly stopped, clutching his chest and panting as he sank onto the drive. Simon ran back to him, ignoring the growing wet pain from his thigh.
‘Quick! Which car is it?’ Rothermere looked ill, a greyish tinge spreading over his normally ruddy complexion. His breathing was rapid, shallow gasps emanating from his throat. He managed to point towards a grey shape parked nearby. ‘… It’s the Bentley…’
London Calling Page 25
