Traitor's Doom (Dr. Palfrey)

by John Creasey

  ‘Now—’ Palfrey ran his hand through his thin brown hair, and smiled apologetically. ‘I’m not used to this,’ he went on, ‘but I’ll make it as simple as I can. The question I asked myself was: Why weren’t we allowed to get into Spain? Why stop us on the frontier? The arrest of five Allied secret agents in Catania, disguised and posing as Catanese, together with a detailed account of their plans to bring men out of the Axis countries and shelter them in Catania until they could be shipped abroad, would have created a first-class political sensation. It would have been played on by the Guarda Nationale to force the hand of the present Government. Since that Government would not be convinced that hostility to the Allies was its wise course, then the Guarda would use it to work up public indignation against the Government. Imagine how well Goebbels would work on it. Within a week or two public opinion would have been inflamed, the Allies would have been accused of trying deliberately to force the Catanese into the war. That, allied to the fact that the blockade is blamed for conditions in Catania, shows how powerful a piece of propaganda it could have been.’

  He paused, and Brian said slowly: ‘It’s just as well that three of us stayed in Orlanto.’

  ‘I asked the Marquis why he took that chance,’ said Palfrey. ‘A word to one of us would have assured us that we had to stay put. The answer is obvious enough—he couldn’t be really sure of the black sheep. He knew that circumstances in Orlanto were such that we would realise that some of us had to stay. We would know from the attacks on Brian that there was a serious leakage, and that until we had discovered where it was we would be held up in Orlanto. In short,’ added Palfrey gently, ‘he forecasted our reactions perfectly.’

  ‘No fool, the Marquis,’ contributed van Hoysen.

  ‘Is that all, Sap?’ asked Stefan, as Palfrey finished his wine and sat down.

  ‘All I can say now, yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think the Marquis is going into details about what we’re to do now. I gather’ – he gave his little deep-throated chuckle – ‘that we’ve passed out as satisfactory agents, and we’re to be asked to concentrate on putting the Guarda Nationale out of action.’

  Stefan raised his brows.

  From what you have said and what we have seen, the influence of the Guarda has increased considerably, and we might even now be on the edge of revolution.’

  Before anyone else spoke, the door opened.

  The Marquis stepped in, with his right arm bandaged and in a sling. Smith was behind him, but neither of the Bombarda brothers appeared. Smith closed the door, and the Marquis smiled about him.

  In his entrance there was a touch of the grand manner which made him the cynosure of all eyes. His face was pale and more lined than when Brian had last seen it, but there was no doubting the strength of his purpose. His fine head inclined towards van Hoysen and Stefan, and he said easily: ‘Have you told them, Palfrey?’

  ‘I’ve tried,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Good,’ said the Marquis briskly. ‘Now before I go on to the future, the immediate future, there is another thing. But for you, I would not be here now. One day I shall be able to thank you, but never as much as I would like.’

  ‘I’m not in this,’ said van Hoysen promptly.

  ‘All of you are in it,’ said the Marquis, no longer smiling. ‘Each has played a part of considerable importance.’ He pulled a chair near him and sat down slowly. ‘I only wish that there was news of Drusilla.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Brian slowly, and none of the others spoke.

  ‘Although,’ went on the Marquis, ‘she has been in dangerous situations before and come through safely.’ He paused, and looked at Brian, from whose face all hint of a smile was gone. ‘Brian, the most important thing that has happened has been your discovery of Leah Gentry at the del Roso.’

  ‘The American girl?’ Brian was startled by the name.

  ‘Yes. Clive’s companion. She and Clive were working together, but just how far she was in his confidence we don’t know,’ said the Marquis. ‘The question is—what did she say?’

  Brian said: ‘I’ve been racking my brains to find an answer, but I just didn’t hear her.’

  ‘She was warning you,’ said the Marquis, a comment so obvious that none of them spoke, and Palfrey seemed a little surprised. ‘Presumably she was telling you who had betrayed, us. And we have been betrayed,’ he added energetically, ‘by someone other than Labollier, too. Labollier might have known a great deal, but he had no idea that I was coming to Catania.’

  Every man there, except Smith, who sat woodenly by the door, stared abruptly at the statement.

  To Palfrey it was obvious, once voiced, but he had not thought of it before. To Brian it was incredible that he had not given the matter any thought. Neither van Hoysen nor Stefan made any comment, but it was clear to them that they too had missed the obvious.

  ‘Who did know?’ Palfrey asked quietly.

  The Bombardas,’ said the Marquis, ‘and perhaps one or two of their men. Some of our people on the other side.’ He paused, and ran his hand through his long, silvery hair. ‘It is, of course, just possible that there was a leakage on either side, and that explains the mishap. It may even be that the Guarda Nationale thought I might arrive and watched every seaplane, but the careful arrangements for the attack on the police-car, of which Smith has told me, makes that unlikely.’ He was speaking slowly, as if with some trepidation, and the others watched him closely, not knowing what was to come and yet a little afraid of it because of his manner. ‘There was someone else who knew,’ the Marquis added quietly.

  ‘Who?’ asked Brian swiftly.

  ‘Drusilla,’ said the Marquis. I had sent word to her that I was coming. I wish,’ he added in a voice the others found barely audible, ‘that she had not disappeared.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Matters of Importance

  Brian stood up abruptly and stepped to the window, taking the place van Hoysen had vacated a few minutes before. Palfrey looked steadily at the Marquis, and Stefan slowly and deliberately stubbed out the end of a cigarette. Only van Hoysen seemed unaffected by the words, and he sat on the corner of a table, eyeing the Marquis with one eyebrow raised above the other in an almost sardonic manner.

  The lounge was very quiet for some minutes. Then van Hoysen smiled crookedly, and said: ‘It doesn’t signify all that much, anyway. Whoever put it around that the Marquis was coming got a grip on him, and then let it go. So we’re back where we started, except that we haven’t got Drusilla. We don’t have to worry about what has happened, but what’s going to happen. And that’s where you come in, Marquis.’ His eyes smiled at Brett. ‘What’s been decided?’

  The Marquis frowned for a moment before saying: ‘The Bombardas are afraid that an attempt at a putsch is coming at any moment, and they are a little suspicious of Don Salvos. We have thought that José Fonesca would be safe with Don Salvos, but if he is connected with the Guarda, and knows who he is harbouring, we don’t need to look far to find what is going to happen. But I’m not convinced that Don Salvos is against us. Are you, Palfrey?’

  ‘I can’t be sure,’ said Palfrey. ‘He hasn’t reacted as I expected him to, but—well, he’s a sick man. His manner might be dictated by a reluctance to take any further part in the political life of the country, but we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that he has considerable influence and popularity with the people.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the Marquis. ‘You see what that might mean, too, Palfrey?’

  ‘It’s obvious enough,’ said Palfrey. ‘José Fonesca is a personality on the one side who might swing popular sentiment over to the Social Patriots, but Don Salvos has been looked upon as a saint, the only individual who has really stood out as a man trying to help the common people. If he came down heavily on one side or the other he would make a big difference.’

  ‘Obviously,’ said Stefan.

  ‘Say, what side are we on?’ demanded van Hoysen suddenly. ‘Marquis, I guess I may be dumb, but the way I see it, we’re o
n Bombarda’s side—’

  ‘Fonesca’s,’ corrected the Marquis.

  ‘Okay—Fonesca—what’s in a name? But from what the doc told us, the Governments—yours and mine—are backing the present Government in Catania. Is that so?’

  ‘It is,’ said the Marquis emphatically. ‘My connection with Fonesca is quite unofficial. The fact is that if one or the other of the extremist parties is to get in, our sympathies are with the Social Patriots. But I doubt whether we ourselves can help them sufficiently to make much difference,’ he went on quietly. The Guarda has secret stores of arms, a widespread organisation, and—of course—leaders.’

  ‘Of which Don Salvos could be one,’ put in Brian.

  ‘Could be, yes,’ admitted the Marquis. ‘At all events, our task is to find the leaders, and to find also whether Don Salvos is really sympathetic to one side or the other, or simply apathetic as Palfrey thinks likely.’

  ‘That’s all we’ve got to do!’ exclaimed van Hoysen.

  ‘It can be done,’ said the Marquis quietly. After a pause he went on briskly: ‘Good. Then we have to worry about the future, and I think we can say that one of the first things we must do is to find out what has happened to Drusilla—keeping a completely open mind, Brian.’ Brian responded with a forced smile, and the Marquis went on: ‘But we have other things to do. I have arranged for most of you to be replaced in Orlanto itself,’ he added, ‘and within twelve hours we shall have agents there who are unknown by the authorities and, I hope, the Guarda, and will not receive the same attention as any of us. For the rest, we have at once to be active and careful.’

  ‘Isn’t there a line anywhere?’ asked Brian sharply.

  ‘The one through Drusilla,’ said the Marquis quietly, ‘and the other through Don Salvos. Because of that I have to ask you, Palfrey, to take more chances than I would otherwise do. I want you to see Don Salvos again.’

  Palfrey nodded, saying: ‘I’ve a visit overdue, anyhow.’

  ‘And then there is Fonesca,’ said the Marquis. ‘Vasca Bombarda tells me that the house is carefully watched by his men, but I think it would be wise to get Fonesca away.’

  ‘Bringing him here?’ demanded van Hoysen.

  ‘No, there is another meeting-place,’ said the Marquis. ‘Smith can tell you more about that. Stefan, will you go with Palfrey? Brian, you and van Hoysen had best stay here in case Drusilla comes.’

  Van Hoysen frowned but said nothing.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Brian.

  ‘I shall wait for a while to see what the Bombardas decide to do,’ said the Marquis. ‘Don’t worry about me, Brian, Smith will look after me.’ He stood up slowly. ‘I wish that we could be more constructive in many ways, but—’

  ‘Look here,’ said van Hoysen, his words sounding dynamic and his right hand clenched. ‘You haven’t answered the question that hasn’t been asked, Marquis. Supposing this revolution breaks, what are the Allied Governments going to do about it?’

  The room fell silent again, and all eyes were turned towards the Marquis. He stood erect, and none of them realised the smallness of his stature. He looked directly at van Hoysen, his face expressionless until he said: ‘We are charged with preventing the revolution from being successful, my friend. We are not working alone, other strong influences are at work, but - if we find the leaders of the Guarda Nationale we shall have performed a service second to none, and we can, I think, prevent the eruption.’

  He stood looking at them for a moment, then smiled a little and raised his hand, a friendly, homely gesture. Smith stood up and opened the door. The Marquis turned when he reached it and said:

  ‘God speed you, gentlemen.’

  The door closed behind him, and the others eyed one another speechlessly. His exit was as impressive as his entry had been, and when he had gone, closely followed by Smith, the room seemed suddenly empty and cold.

  The door opened and Smith returned. He showed no expression, but nodded all round and then gave particulars of their other rendezvous. It was a house in Vicosa, a small village some thirty miles due east of Orlanto, in a small range of hills. He had maps, and showed them the position of the village, and gave them precise instructions on how to reach the house.

  Then: ‘There will be a car at the end of Don Salvos’ drive, Palfrey, for you and Andromovitch. If you have trouble getting away, there’ll be another car at Allegro. If there’s still trouble, you’ll find a third at San Sebas. In both places the cars will be at the local garage, and the proprietor can be trusted.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘We have some kind of organisation, what? Is that all clear?’

  Palfrey and Stefan nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Smith. ‘And there’s another car outside, with a driver—he’ll take you the best way to Don Salvos. Good hunting.’ He raised a hand and went out.

  ‘He means good waiting,’ growled van Hoysen.

  Palfrey smiled spontaneously.

  ‘You’ll have your action before it’s finished, Clem! And we won’t be able to see it for you and Brian.’

  With Stefan, he left a few minutes afterwards. The others did not accompany them to the bank, but watched them leaving the house-boat in the near-darkness. Only the faintest of afterglows showed in the western skies, and the country was covered with the cloak of night. It made the lapping waters seem more ghostly, and once they stopped abruptly at a sound in front of them.

  A man said: ‘For the car, señors?’

  They could see only his shadow as he went forward through the trees, where it was almost black. They walked for five minutes until, suddenly, they came to a car concealed in the bushes. Peering inside, they could just make out the shape of the man at the wheel.

  They climbed inside, and the driver started the car, going cautiously across the bumpy land until he reached the road. Only then did he switch on the headlights. The dull throb of the engine seemed like the approach of distant aircraft, and Palfrey found himself surprisingly conscious of it.

  After a few minutes Stefan said:

  ‘And what has your great mind decided about that interview, Sap? Or have you just prevented yourself from thinking?’

  ‘Labollier has gone,’ said Palfrey, ‘but the Marquis is afraid there’s someone else.’

  ‘I think so, too,’ said Stefan. ‘I mean that he is afraid that there might be; I do not necessarily agree that there is another traitor. But one thing is certain, Sap.’

  ‘Good. What is it?’

  ‘He does not seriously suspect that it is Drusilla.’

  ‘No-o,’ admitted Palfrey. ‘A bright red-herring, I think.’

  He spent some minutes explaining to Stefan the exact meaning of a ‘red-herring’. The driver went on steadily, the road was good, although once or twice he had to brake at sharp bends. He slowed down to approach one of them, and as he turned the car the headlights shone on a pile of wooden boxes, and a bar, across the road.

  He jammed on his brakes and snapped: ‘Señors, get away!’

  It happened so suddenly that neither Palfrey nor Stefan realised what was the matter until they saw dark figures hurrying towards them. The headlights showed the fixed bayonets and, what was worse, guns and Tommy-guns held in position.

  Stefan opened the door of the car, but the men were too near, it was useless to jump out.

  Palfrey leaned over the driver’s seat and snapped urgently: ‘Drive through it!’

  ‘Señor—’

  The first word of the man’s protest faded. Perhaps he saw that it was the only way in which they could get through. He had not stopped the engine, and now he trod hard on the accelerator, letting the car lurch forward. Taken by surprise because it had seemed that the car had stopped, the men who had run up to attack scattered wildly. There was a thud when one of the wings struck a man, and sent him reeling to one side. Then the bonnet smashed into the boxes. The bar struck against the windscreen, but the first impact had been great enough to shake the foundations of the barricade, and the collision was not
heavy. For a few yards they carried the bar with them, scraping against the bonnet and the windscreen, until it fell off on one side.

  Bullets were rattling on the rear of the car.

  All three of them crouched low, but although the windows were holed none of them was touched. There seemed to be no one in front of them, and there was no sign of any pursuit. For perhaps three minutes they crouched down, with the driver performing miracles in his cramped position. Then they dared to straighten up, and Stefan leaned forward again, gasping for breath.

  ‘Very well done, señor’ He breathed the words into the driver’s ears. ‘No one could have done better.’ He let himself be extravagant in his praise, and the man reacted well, laughing and dismissing it as a mere nothing. He was inspired to go at speed, and the trees and hedges raced by on either side.

  After two miles, or a little more, Palfrey said: ‘Will it be safe to stop?’

  ‘Safe enough, señor’ said the driver, whose English was unexpectedly good. ‘As safe as anything can be for us.’ In the poor light from the dashboard he smiled grimly, but pulled into the side of the road. ‘There might be pursuit, señor has not forgotten that?’

  ‘No,’ said Palfrey. ‘But there might be others following us, from the house-boat. Have you forgotten that?’

  The man turned to face him, dark-visaged, wide-eyed.