Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘Isn’t it rather curious,’ he said, as he held a lighted match for her, ‘that you should ask for my aid?’

  ‘You mean,’ she returned, watching the smoke spiral into the air, ‘that you are suspicious of me. You do not think I can come to you, but for some purpose not for your advantage?’

  He found her slight foreign intonation of the English words wholly attractive, but was fearful of allowing the admiration for her, which he could not suppress, get too strong a possession of him. He retreated to the bed, and sat on it.

  ‘You and I were not exactly friendly last time we met,’ he remarked frankly. ‘Under the circumstances you cannot expect me to regard this visit without suspicion.’

  She sighed.

  ‘What can I do to remove it from your mind?’

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘That is for you to decide.’

  ‘It seems that my task will be more difficult than I anticipated,’ she complained. ‘When I saw you sitting eating your dinner all alone, I thought that perhaps there sat the man who might help me. That is why I have come to you, mon ami. Try to believe, will you not, that my motives are without guile? I am in difficulties, Captain Shannon – you see I have not forgotten your name. Have you forgotten mine, I wonder.’

  ‘No; I have not,’ came the uncompromising reply. ‘I remember you as the cruel daughter of a callous, unscrupulous scoundrel, who escaped death on the gallows by the sheer good fortune that pneumonia stepped in and carried him off.’

  Shannon felt a brute as he spoke, but he was anxious to cast off the spell her personality was casting upon him. He also wished her to realise the opinion he had of her. If she had shown an inclination to dissolve into tears, or expressed outraged indignation, he would probably have decided she was acting. She did neither. For a few moments there was silence between them; then she looked him full in the face.

  ‘You speak of me as cruel,’ she remarked quietly at length, ‘but have I, to your knowledge, ever said or done anything so cruel as that which you have just said to me?’ He felt a trifle ashamed, but made no reply. ‘Listen to me, Captain Shannon,’ she went on; ‘perhaps you will not believe me, perhaps you may. I hated my father. You smile, but it is the truth. It is not nice for a daughter to say a thing so terrible, but I had much reason. When I was a little girl, too little to know much, my beautiful mother died, and I was left to the care of my father. For two years he permitted me to remain at the convent where I was educated in Vienna; then he took me away, because he thought I would be of use to him. You have perhaps noticed I am beautiful?’ The question was asked quite simply, without a touch of coquetry in it. Shannon’s nod was just as simple, and she continued: ‘Well, my friend, he decided my beauty would help in his schemes. We travelled much, and he taught me to regard cruelty and wickedness as very ordinary things – he made me become not any more like my mother, but like him. Of course I admit that in me there must be a little of his nature, for sometimes I felt pleasure in hurting others, but all the time I rebelled against it and, as I rebelled, so I grew to hate my father. But I also feared him. That is why, when I chained up Monsieur Cousins – that so nice little man – I was cruel sometimes to him. I called him my little pet dog-man. I made him to suffer – oh, so very much – but I was always hoping to save his life. When my father killed people in his anger, I dared not tell him what I felt, so I pretend it is nothing – I do not care.’ She leant forward earnestly. ‘When I found Sir Leonard Wallace in my father’s study, did I shoot him? No; and I am a good shot, Monsieur Shannon. He put out the light by shooting that was marvellous, and I also fired, but I took care to miss him. I wanted him captured for the sake of my father, but not killed. I admit I have taken pleasure in cruelty sometimes, perhaps again I may feel the same, but I hope I will not. I have his blood, you see. That I cannot help, but I am not all wicked, as I know you think me.’

  Shannon eyed her steadily. Inclination made him long to believe her, knowledge of her dragged him to the other extreme. She was, he felt, trying to influence him for some purpose she had in mind.

  ‘Do you remember when your father was in the hands of the police in Sir Peter Nikoleff’s house?’ he asked.

  ‘It is something I shall never forget,’ she told him.

  ‘You ran down the stairs, and clasped him in your arms, as they were taking him away. During that short space of time you succeeded in transferring to him a revolver. If it had not been for the skill of Sir Leonard Wallace, Stanislas Ictinos might have killed two or three men in attempting to escape. How does your action on that occasion accord with your assertion now that you hated him?’

  ‘He was my father,’ she returned simply. ‘Whatever my feelings towards him were, the fact that I was his daughter remained. They were taking him away, perhaps for the terrible punishment of execution. What would you have done, if you had been in my position? Would you not have given your father a chance to escape?’

  The question was a poser, which Shannon felt he could not answer.

  ‘What about our threat?’ he asked hastily. ‘You told Sir Leonard Wallace he would be sorry for that night’s work; told him that, if your father died, he would die also.’

  ‘Was that not also natural? Was not the horror of the fate I knew my father deserved enough to cause me to offer threats to the man who had caught him? They were but empty, nevertheless. That happened a year ago. Have I ever attempted to harm Sir Leonard?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge,’ admitted Shannon. ‘How am I to know that your present visit to me is not connected in some manner with those threats?’

  ‘Is Sir Leonard Wallace here?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘No; but I am. I took part in the capture of your father.’

  ‘I did not threaten you, did I?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I didn’t hear you mention me by name, but your vitriolic outbursts in the room in which we kept you were threatening enough.’

  ‘I was very much angry. If I had not been, would you not think I was strangely made?’

  Shannon sighed. A voice seemed to be whispering to him to accept her as she now presented herself. Could it be that, after all, she was not the wicked woman he had imagined her? Resolutely he put the thought out of his mind, closed his ears to the insinuating little voice which, he felt, must belong to the devil himself.

  ‘Tell me why you have sought this interview with me,’ he demanded gruffly.

  ‘You spend a great deal of your time in Rome, Captain Shannon, do you not?’

  He smiled cynically. It was as he had thought. She was there to ferret out his reasons for being in the capital of Italy. He was soon to find that he was wrong.

  ‘Why do you ask that?’ he queried.

  ‘Because I find you here now. When the man, who impersonated you at the order of my father, made the study of you for his purpose, it was here you were living. You have a connection with the British embassy, have you not?’

  Shannon suppressed the sigh of relief which rose involuntarily to his lips. Was it possible that she did not think he was there in the usual capacity of a Secret Service agent? He surveyed her long and thoughtfully. There was no suggestion of mockery in her face, though he realised she would be far too clever to allow him to catch a glimpse of her mind, if she were not being entirely honest with him.

  ‘Does it matter why I am in Rome?’ he asked.

  She laughed.

  ‘Oh, la, la! How cautious you are, mon ami! Very well, I will not embarrass you with questions which you do not wish to answer.’

  That surprised him. He asked her a question more to cover his own confusion than for any other reason.

  ‘How did you know I was staying here?’

  ‘I did not until I saw you dining; then I did not know you were living here. It was as you sat opposite me and my companion that I found to my satisfaction that you were. You see you signed for the things that you ordered. Only residents do that, Captain Shannon. But how interested yo
u were in me! All the time you watched me and the man who was with me. Why was it? Because I had made you aware of my presence in the dining room, and you were curious?’

  Shannon suddenly felt rather helpless. After her first look at him in the lounge, he had been convinced that the girl had not glanced in his direction again. Yet she had been watching him all the time apparently, and not only that but knew he had been observing her.

  ‘I naturally wondered why you had attracted my attention,’ he confessed. ‘Considering our – er – previous encounter, I thought it unlikely you would feel very friendly disposed towards me.’

  ‘That was entirely wrong of you. My disposition to you is of the most friendly; it is you who are full of suspicion and distrust of me.’

  ‘Need we enter into that again?’

  ‘No, if you do not wish it. I attracted your attention purposely in the dining room, for I wanted you to notice me. At once, when I saw you, I felt perhaps you would help me. This time, Captain Shannon, our interests are not in antagonism. I think, when I have told you why I wish to speak to you in private, you will feel that you and I can work with one another.’

  He began to grow very much interested.

  ‘I am afraid I don’t understand,’ he told her.

  ‘Of course you do not, but I will quickly explain. Will you please look out of the door to see that no one listens? I do not think I was watched and followed, but one does not know. It is possible I have been unfortunate.’

  Shannon obediently crossed to the door, opened it suddenly, and looked up and down the corridor. There was no one in sight. He returned and assured the girl of that fact.

  ‘I happen to know,’ he added, ‘that the rooms on either side are empty, so whatever you say can be said with perfect safety here.’

  ‘So! That is excellent. And, Monsieur Shannon, you will give me your word that, if you cannot help me, you will not betray me?’

  He frowned.

  ‘I can hardly do that without knowing what it is,’ he protested.

  ‘Oh! So cautious you are!’ she cried half irritably. ‘Never mind, I will put my faith in you, as you do not put your faith in me. I know, you see, that the assistants of Sir Leonard Wallace are men of honour.’

  ‘That is where you are at an advantage,’ he retorted drily.

  A spasm that almost looked like pain flashed across her face.

  ‘Must you persist in being cruel, m’sieu?’ she asked.

  ‘If you are going to take me into your confidence, Miss Ictinos,’ he suggested, ‘perhaps you will come to the point. It is getting late.’

  She removed the cigarette from the holder; crushed it into the ashtray he had placed by her side.

  ‘I have a profession now,’ she told him quietly. ‘It is like yours. My life, Captain Shannon, is devoted to my country, as your life is devoted to the service of England. I am in the Secret Service of Greece!’

  He looked at her with incredulous eyes.

  ‘Are you serious?’ he demanded. ‘You are not joking?’

  ‘On the contrary, m’sieu, I am in very deep earnest. When my father died, I offered myself. I thought that my knowledge of people and languages would be of use to Greece. I was correct. My offer was accepted. For some months I was on – what do you call it?’

  ‘Probation?’

  ‘Yes; I was on probation, but now I have been entrusted with a task of importance very great.’

  In his astonishment he almost gave his knowledge away.

  ‘I thought you were—’ he began; stopped abruptly as he was about to add, ‘a lady’s companion.’

  ‘You thought I was what?’ she asked curiously. He recovered himself admirably.

  ‘I thought you were engaged to the gentleman with whom I saw you tonight. His attentions rather suggested—’

  She laughed scornfully.

  ‘Oh, Captain Shannon!’ she protested. ‘You do not flatter me. Do you think I would have a lover so old? I am only twenty-three; he, I think, is nearly sixty.’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ he murmured.

  ‘Perhaps, but not with me. Possibly some day I will love, but it will not be an old man. You do not by chance know the man with whom I sat?’ Shannon shook his head. ‘That, my friend, was General Radoloff. He is a Bulgarian who has much power. He is with the people I have been told to watch. You see how I am trusting you.’

  Shannon had great difficulty in preventing the interest he felt from showing in his face.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ he asked. ‘It is hardly usual for the Secret Service agent of one country to announce herself so openly to an officer of another country.’

  ‘I know,’ she nodded, her beautiful eyes fixed on his with an expression in them which had nothing of duplicity in it. On the contrary, she looked utterly frank, almost childlike in her eagerness, as she went on. ‘But, you see, m’sieu, as I have already tried to explain, I am beginning to fear that my work is too great for me. When I saw you in this hotel tonight, it was as if my prayer for guidance had been answered by the good God. I knew that if I could obtain your help all would be well. I must be quite candid with you – Captain Shannon, I am afraid!’

  ‘Afraid!’ he echoed. ‘Of what?’

  ‘Listen! As you put it in English, I am placing all my cards on the table. At the end of last year, two very clever countrymen of mine who had, at one time, been in power, made a most desperate bid – I think that is the correct word, no?’ He assured her that it was, and she continued: ‘They made a bid to overthrow the government, and obtain once more the power. You may perhaps know of their – bid? I am talking of Messieurs Plasiras and Bikelas.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied; ‘they came rather a bad cropper.’

  The music of her silvery laugh filled the room for a moment.

  ‘The word cropper is amusing,’ she declared, ‘but it is very much apt like all English and American slang. You are quite correct, mon ami; they came a bad cropper. Their followers were destroyed, and they only escaped very narrowly. But it seems they were not satisfied. Information came that again they were plotting. Then it became known that Madame Bikelas wished for a companion. I knew her well. My father was at one time a friend of her husband. But she and Monsieur did not know I was now of the Greek Secret Service. Nobody knows that but the head and one or two others of the department, and now you. You, of course, understand that such things are kept very much confidential. I have much money, but I go to Madame Bikelas, and tell her I am very lonely and have nothing to do. I ask her if she will have me for her companion. She is delighted. She thinks to herself: “this is someone we know. She will be reliable.” Her husband thinks the same thing, and I am engaged. But I go to her to find out what it is Messieurs Bikelas and Plasiras are doing, and to keep my chief informed. Alas! Since February I have been with them. Now April is nearly finished, but I have not found out very much. With them is General Radoloff, of whom we have spoken. There is also Monsieur Doreff who, like the general, is a Bulgarian, and Signor and Signora Bruno who are Italian. With them also are Messieurs Michalis and Kyprianos who belong to Cyprus. Always they behave with great secrecy. They lock themselves often in a room, and talk together for hours. There is a great plot going on, of that I am certain, but I have not been able to find out what it is.’

  She paused, and looked at Shannon anxiously.

  ‘Go on,’ he urged.

  ‘You are interested?’

  ‘Very; though I must confess that I do not understand yet why you are telling me all this.’

  ‘It is because I am in need of help or, at least, advice. First we met General Radoloff, Signor Bruno and Monsieur Doreff in Smyrna. Afterwards we all went together to Nicosia in Cyprus, where we stayed in the house of Paul Michalis. There Monsieur Kyprianos came often secretly to the house, and there were long private discussions. I tried very hard to find out what they were about, but always I met with failure. Kyprianos is a strange man whom I do not like at all. He looks at me s
ometimes in a manner very strange.’

  ‘Perhaps he is in love with you.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No; one cannot mistake the eyes of love. Often I have seen the look which tells me men desire me, but he does not look at me like that. I am afraid of him. I wonder if he suspects me, though I am sure there is no reason why he should. In Nicosia, when we arrived, there was much excitement. The people gave a great welcome to Messieurs Bikelas and Plasiras, which angered them greatly. It was then, for the first time, that they put aside the mask. They blamed Monsieur Michalis for the greeting they received. In his house they spoke in great indignation, and said their plans would be wrecked. He told them that he did not know anything about the welcome; he even swore that he had only mentioned their coming to Monsieur Kyprianos. When Kyprianos arrived, they asked him if it was he who had arranged the welcome. He said “Yes”. Then they became angry with him. He also grew angry. He told them he would not help them, if they behaved to him in such a manner. My friend, it was strange how quickly they changed after that. It was like many nurses trying to soothe and comfort a crying child. I could not hear more of their conversation, for they took him away into the private room of Monsieur Michalis; the door was shut, and outside stood the secretary of Bikelas. It is always the same. When they hold their meetings, the secretary of Bikelas, or the secretary of Plasiras, stands on guard. I am always – baulked – is that the right word, Monsieur Shannon?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ nodded the Englishman. ‘Then you think this Kyprianos holds the key to the situation?’

  ‘I think he does. They do not dare to anger him. There is just one thing I have discovered, though at present it does not seem to me of importance. Kyprianos is a scientist; he has a reputation as a man of much skill with chemicals. Madame Bikelas told me that her husband and Monsieur Plasiras were expecting great help from him in order one day to return and regain their power in Greece.’

  ‘Ah!’ Shannon was unable altogether to suppress the exclamation, though he succeeded in rendering it fairly moderate. He had been given an item of information which he felt was of the utmost importance, if indeed it were genuine. Still very much on his guard, he kept the possibility in mind that everything he was being told was said with the purpose of entrapping him in some way. ‘It certainly appears,’ he agreed, ‘that you are correct in assuming that there is some plot afoot against the present government of Greece. Have you been unable to pump Madame Bikelas? I mean to say,’ he added with a smile, ‘women talk confidentially to their companions, and I should have thought she could have told you a great deal.’