Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘She might be. Why not?’

  She sighed softly.

  ‘You know she would not. Besides, everything points to it. The searching of my belongings, the very fact that she became housekeeper so soon after I had been making my foolish investigations. I know now that I have been living in a fool’s paradise. What do you advise me to do?’

  He reflected for some moments.

  ‘Carry on with your school work as though your suspicions against her had not been roused,’ he suggested at last. ‘Do nothing that can in any way be regarded as strange or unusual in a teacher at a girls’ school. In the meantime, I’ll report to headquarters that we believe your real position here to be known. Then you must wait for instructions from B.’

  Tears were not very far from her eyes as she nodded. Nothing he could say was able to comfort her. She could not rid herself of the feeling that she had failed in the duty allotted her. She finished her coffee, and rose to her feet, drawing the cloak closely round her lithe form.

  ‘It is awfully late,’ she declared with a heroic attempt at cheerfulness, ‘I shall feel like nothing on earth when I take my classes tomorrow, or rather today. It isn’t often I am up as late as this.’

  He conducted her to the front of the hotel, talking gaily the while. An attentive commissionaire quickly obtained for them a car. They entered, he gave the address, and they were soon speeding rapidly on their way. It was not more than fifteen minutes’ run from the Palace hotel to her school, but longer than fifteen minutes went by, and still the driver showed no signs of reducing his headlong pace. They had been so occupied in conversation that she had taken no notice of the direction. Now she gave a little ejaculation of alarm, and clutched his arm.

  ‘Where is he going?’ she cried. ‘This is the wrong way.’

  Most of the houses had been left behind; the car seemed to be heading for the open country. Shannon promptly picked up the speaking-tube; shouted to the driver to stop. But the man took no notice. In fact their speed increased until the motor was tearing along at a reckless pace. The Secret Service man was not given to hesitation. Deciding that an attempt was being made to kidnap him and the girl, he drew the revolver he carried in his hip pocket and, with the butt, smashed the glass partition between the driver’s seat and the inside of the car. Some of the splintered glass hit the man in front. They heard him cry out, the motor swerved dangerously; then he applied his brakes, they slowed down, presently stopped.

  ‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’ demanded Shannon wrathfully.

  The fellow made no reply, sprang out, and disappeared into the night. Almost immediately the darkness was lit up brilliantly in their vicinity. Another car or cars had apparently been following them with dimmed lights, had drawn up behind, and the headlamps had now been switched on. Barbara gave a little cry. He laid one of his great hands reassuringly on hers.

  ‘It looks like a trap, old girl,’ he muttered. ‘Sit tight, and leave everything to me. We can’t be far from Nicosia.’

  ‘We’re not,’ she told him, and he was glad to note that there was not a tremor in her voice now. ‘We’re only just outside, but this is rather a desolate spot.’

  ‘Anyhow the sound of shooting here would bring people along to investigate, I should imagine.’

  ‘It might,’ she returned doubtfully, ‘but I’m not so sure that they would be the people we wanted.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They might be sympathisers of these men.’

  ‘We’ll have to chance that. Somehow I don’t think they’ll shoot. But I will!’

  He made her crouch down on the floor of the tonneau, although she pleaded with him to allow her to help him. She carried a little automatic in her bag, and was eager to stand by him, and face the attack they both felt certain would soon be delivered. However, he did not intend to take any risks where she was concerned. She would be comparatively safe on the floor. He told her that, if she had the opportunity, she could fire at their antagonists, but, in any case, was not to rise until he gave her permission to do so.

  Several minutes passed by, and still there came no sign from the people in the other cars – a cautious and rapid peep through the little rear window had enabled Shannon to count two pairs of headlights. Two cars probably meant that he would have to deal with eight or ten men; then there was their own driver. If he had been alone, it is quite likely he would actually have enjoyed the situation, but with Barbara Havelock in his care he was not at all happy.

  ‘What do you think they are doing?’ she whispered at length.

  ‘Behaving like the cowards they are,’ he returned contemptuously. ‘They thought, no doubt, we would have stepped into the road to find out what was wrong, whereupon they would promptly have jumped on us. We have perplexed them a trifle by remaining in the car. The idea of being shot at as they try to get us out probably doesn’t appeal to them.’

  ‘Do you think there are many of them?’

  ‘Half a dozen perhaps,’ he returned in a casual tone. ‘Not nearly enough to get the better of us, anyway. I say, I hope you aren’t spoiling that frock of yours down there.’

  She laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears. She had pluck, and plenty of it; was not the kind to let him down.

  ‘As if a frock counted in a situation like this,’ she observed.

  ‘It would be a pity if it was damaged. It’s such a topping affair, and suits you—’

  A sudden attempt was made to open both doors at once, but as they possessed locks, and he had taken the precaution to fasten them, the result was negative. A shout of baffled fury could be heard.

  ‘Shoot, if anyone pushes in that window,’ Shannon ordered the girl. He let down the one on his side of the car. Four men stood close by. He was able to see them perfectly in the brilliant headlights of the cars behind. Three were tough, villainous-looking fellows, the other was quite well-dressed and of a superior class. The Englishman addressed him. ‘Look here!’ he boomed. ‘I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I presume you’re up to no good. That being the case, I’ll start shooting, if you don’t clear off in thirty seconds.’

  ‘Come out!’ snarled the other in Greek. ‘We wish to talk to you.’

  ‘I have too much respect for myself to be seen talking to you,’ retorted Shannon. ‘That half minute has gone by.’

  He suddenly produced the revolver, and fired above their heads but close enough to give them a distinctly unpleasant sensation. At once they scuttled out of sight like a lot of startled rabbits. At the same time a determined attack was made on the other door. The window was smashed in, the glass falling on Barbara, but doing her no injury. Obeying orders, she fired at a man who was endeavouring to wrench the door open. He disappeared from view with a scream of agony.

  ‘First blood to you, Barbara,’ commented Shannon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In Her Country’s Service

  He stepped over her, and glanced out. Immediately a knife hissed through the air; stuck quivering within a few inches of his head. He withdrew, but not before he had shot the knife-thrower.

  ‘Three shots,’ he remarked. ‘People in the neighbourhood should be beginning to sit up and take notice by now, unless they sleep very heavily hereabouts.’

  Apparently their assailants thought the same. They suddenly launched a determined attack on the car. The saloon shook ominously as they clambered on the roof. Somebody with an axe began to make desperate onslaughts. Shannon looked grave; it would not take them long to break their way in, whereupon he and Barbara would be taken at a serious disadvantage. Better, he thought, under the circumstances to get out into the open, though it would be difficult to protect the girl out there.

  ‘As soon as I open the door and jump out,’ he muttered urgently, ‘follow and keep behind me. No trying to stand by my side and fight them. Use my body as a buffer – it’s big enough – understand?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t argue; obey orders
!’ he snapped.

  Part of the roof came in on top of him, the axe wielded by the man above following it, and swishing past his head. Promptly he grasped the shaft, and pulled. The hand of the fellow was dragged through the gap for a moment before releasing its hold. Shannon transferred his grip with a lightning movement to the wrist, pulled the arm right down, and part of the man’s body through the hole with it. He jammed it in tightly causing the wretch to scream with agony, and preventing the others above from getting at Barbara and him. He then unlocked the near door and, suddenly flinging it open, stepped out, revolver in his left hand. Somebody above lunged viciously at him with a knife, but he had anticipated such a move and, avoiding the thrust, caught hold of the man’s wrist and dragged him from the roof of the car with such force that he turned a complete somersault before landing on his back some yards away. Barbara had followed Shannon closely. He shepherded her away from the car, continuing to face the lights, and keeping her well protected by his great body. A knife whizzed by his head, and he promptly fired at two men who remained on the top of the car. Whether he hit either or not he was unable to say, as they did not cry out. Both promptly slid to the ground, however, leaving the fellow, whom Shannon had jammed in the smashed roof, to extricate himself as best he could from his exceedingly painful position.

  There came a lull in the proceedings, the remainder of their adversaries having collected together behind the car. Four, at least, were out of action. How many remained the Secret Service man was unable to tell. He did not believe there were more than five. Odds like that did not trouble him. He felt sure he would be able to defeat any further attempts they might make, especially as they either did not possess firearms, or hesitated to use them for fear of being heard. He inclined to the former theory, since he felt they would be only too anxious to complete their murderous work and get away, and would no longer shrink from discharging revolvers, as he and Barbara had already roused the echoes with theirs. There were few trees thereabouts and fewer bushes, but the two found cover of a kind in a dip behind a group of shrubs about ten yards from the car.

  ‘Sorry to keep you out of bed so late,’ remarked Shannon cheerfully.

  She laughed a trifle unsteadily.

  ‘Do you think we’ll get away?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. There are not more than five of them capable of carrying on the war. Two have been shot, the one I pulled off the roof has probably broken his spine or his neck or both, and the fellow jammed in will have to be cut out. Everything in the garden’s rosy. I’m beastly sorry to mix you up in an affair like this though.’

  ‘You mix me up in an affair like this!’ she echoed. ‘If anyone is to blame, I am. Hugh, they weren’t intending to kidnap us. Their object is to kill us.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is, or rather was. I don’t see how they’re going to satisfy their little craving now. I’m certain of one thing, and that is, you don’t go back to the school. You’ll stop at Government House tonight, I’ll collect your belongings, or we’ll send for them, and you’ll leave Cyprus as soon as possible. If old Mother Hubbard isn’t behind this business, I’ll eat my hat.’

  ‘Oh, but will that be necessary,’ she protested.

  ‘It will,’ he replied in a tone that admitted no argument. ‘They’re keeping beastly quiet,’ he went on. ‘I’ve half a mind to go and find out what they are up to. Can you see their legs? I can’t.’

  ‘I think they must have kept the car between themselves and us, and retreated into the shadows on the other side of the road.’

  ‘H’m! That would certainly account for the absence of legs.’

  He glanced round uneasily. It had occurred to him that the men could make a detour, keeping well out of the light thrown by their cars, and attack him and the girl in the rear. Behind was pitch-blackness accentuated, no doubt, by the illumination in front. He was unable to see more than a few yards. The position was not as safe as he had thought it. At once his mind was busy trying to think out a scheme which would enable him to place Barbara in absolute safety. At first he was inclined to dash with her to the car, and make a bid to drive it away, but she would be exposed to tremendous peril from those knife-flinging experts, while crossing the unprotected, illumined ground to the motor, and while he was occupied in starting up the engine. Then he thought he saw the way. He and she would retreat into the darkness; they might manage to escape observation if they crawled. Once out of sight they could gradually work their way back to the town, or, at least, to the nearest house. Their chances would not be very great, if the Cypriots discovered they had gone, and started to search for them. She could not walk fast over that difficult ground in dance shoes. He commenced to question her about the country, and learnt, to his chagrin, that the part of the town nearest to them was mostly occupied by sympathisers of Plasiras and Bikelas. That rendered the venture more dangerous, but they could not stop where they were.

  ‘You don’t happen to know anybody living near here?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but I should think they are mostly people who would be antagonistic. The fact that nobody has apparently been roused by the shots seems to prove that they are, or else prefer to keep out of trouble. There are one or two farmhouses quite close by. The firing must have disturbed them.’

  ‘It might not have done. This is the time of night or rather morning, when people sleep most soundly.’

  ‘Don’t you think it likely we were brought here for the very reason that our assailants knew they were safe from interruption on this side of Nicosia?’

  He thought it very likely in the light of what she had told him, but did not say so. The task of getting her to safety began to appear almost insurmountable. His jaw clamped tightly. He meant to do it somehow. He suddenly decided to work his way round to the last car; the enemy would not be looking for him and Barbara there. Perhaps it would be possible to start the engine and get away before they realised what was happening. At all events, he and she must not stop another second where they were. At any moment might come the attack from the rear he was dreading, when Barbara would be placed in deadly peril. He did not like the continued silence from the road; it suggested mischief. He told her his plan, and they started to put it into effect. Crawling out of the dip, they wriggled their way along towards the intense obscurity beyond. There were several yards to traverse before reaching it, and they would be, he knew, visible to anyone who was keeping observation.

  Gradually they drew nearer to the welcome opacity. The rough ground made havoc of his suit, ruined utterly her flimsy dress, but neither had any thoughts to spare for such considerations as clothing just then. At last they reached their objective, and he sighed his relief. Standing up, he helped her to her feet, took her arm in his, and led her cautiously forward. It was then that a light was flashed full in their faces, and cries of triumph rose all around them. With an oath he swung her behind him; at the same time raising his revolver and firing, but the glare blinded him. In an instant he found himself fighting desperately with God only knew how many men. Knives seemed to be flashing all around him, but somehow he avoided them, all the time striving to keep the fiends from Barbara. His revolver was knocked out of his hand; then, above the sound of men panting and cursing, there reached his ears a little gurgling sob which seemed to turn his heart to stone, the blood in his veins to water.

  He went completely berserk. Utterly careless of knives or any other weapons, he hit out with herculean power all around him. The light went out, but the sudden darkness made no difference to him; one hand felt and clasped a human form. At once he had grabbed it by some part of its anatomy and swung it, screaming horribly, round his head, sending all others, who remained on their feet, toppling to the ground. He cleared a space for yards round him; there seemed no one left to fight. Continuing to swing his human cudgel as easily as any other man would have wielded a truncheon, he presently let it go; heard it crash to the ground sickeningly some distance away. With deadly apprehension holding him in its
grip, he knelt down, fumbled in the stygian darkness for Barbara.

  His fingers came into contact with a large electric torch. He tried to switch it on, but found it was smashed, and cast it from him. Presently he encountered the body of a man who groaned as he pushed him roughly aside. He found his revolver, put it automatically into his pocket. Then he came to her; a crumpled little bundle of daintiness lying half under the body of another man. With a terrible cry he lifted up the fellow, dashed him violently aside. Gently he raised the girl, as light as a feather to him, and staggered with his precious burden to the ground still illuminated by the headlights of the cars. Every step he took seemed to him to take an age. Careless now whether he was seen or not, his mind prey to dreadful suspense, he placed her gently down on a grassy hillock where the light enabled him to see her clearly. Her eyes were closed, her face ghastly. The breast of her pathetically torn and crumpled dress, originally rose pink in colour, was now stained a terrible crimson. A sob of mingled agony and rage burst from him. Frantically, nevertheless skilfully, he strove to staunch the flow of blood, but it was already ceasing, and a little trickle from the corner of her pallid lips told him the stark, dreadful truth. Her eyelids flickered, and opened. Her blue eyes gazed up at him with the hand of death already beginning to glaze them. She smiled, he saw her lips move, and bent down to listen to what she was endeavouring to say.