Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘I don’t think he is far away, somehow. I should watch my step very carefully, if I were you, Shannon. Somebody may bump into you in the dark.’

  ‘Then you think he is in hiding close by, and knows that we are here?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. What puzzles me is how and when the baggage was moved out? When I saw Radoloff watching Hill and Thalia—’ He broke off; was silent for several seconds. ‘She was with us until ten-thirty, and obviously knew nothing of this sudden move, though she informed us they were about to go; that is, all but Kyprianos and Michalis. It seems to me, Shannon, that the rest must still be in the building. If not, then Thalia must have been spirited away. I hope no harm has come to the girl. They did not hesitate to murder the two secretaries, and she is liable to be suspected even more than they. I think I’ll pay a visit to her flat, if only to see that she is safe.’

  ‘Do you mean, go inside, sir?’

  ‘Yes; why not. You went into the other.’

  ‘Shall I come with you?’

  ‘No; Hill may want you. I don’t suppose I’ll be long.’

  ‘For God’s sake, sir, be careful! There’s something about this horrible business I don’t understand. The very fact that one of the secretaries has died, and now another, is enough to cause surprise and comment, but to leave the second poor devil lying dead in a flat of some beastly disease, and disappear, seems to me sheer lunacy. The last thing these people want is to draw suspicion on themselves. Yet they seem to be going out of their way to do it.’

  ‘That is why I think Kyprianos has got out of hand. He may even have gone mad.’

  Sir Leonard was about to go out, when the door opened, and Hill entered. He passed them by without a word, his face white and set. They heard him scrubbing his hands in the bathroom; smelt again the strong disinfectant he was using. Wallace waited until he came out; then followed him to his sitting room, where he mixed himself a large brandy and soda.

  ‘Nasty business, was it?’ queried the chief sympathetically.

  ‘Beastly, sir,’ nodded Hill. ‘He expired a few minutes ago – horribly. But,’ he added hoarsely, ‘it was what he said that has bowled me over. He spoke just before he died.’

  His head sank until it was resting on his hands; a great tremor ran through his body.

  ‘What was it?’ asked Sir Leonard gently.

  Hill looked up; there was agony in his eyes.

  ‘He died warning me against Thalia.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Death in a Hypodermic Syringe

  The other three men – Merryweather was waiting in another room – cast quick, startled glances at each other. At least it would be more correct to say that Shannon and Tempest did – Wallace simply frowned a little, as he glanced at his burly assistant. He looked back at Hill, and sat down.

  ‘Tell me what he said.’

  ‘It was very little, and difficult to hear or understand,’ replied Hill quietly, ‘but I gathered that he and the other secretary, who was supposed to have died of heart disease, were actually in the pay of the Greek government. First one had been discovered and murdered; then Bikelas found the other searching a private case of his. It was Kyprianos who suggested using the cultures. The others objected, but their protests were in vain. He was stripped – God knows why – and forced to drink a glass of water containing the filthy stuff this afternoon. Kyprianos said that he hoped the man called Shannon would come, try to help the fellow, and thus die of the disease himself.’

  Shannon shuddered involuntarily. He reflected that, if Hill had not been with him, the chances were that he would have been infected. Impatiently he wiped away the beads of perspiration that suddenly appeared on his brow.

  ‘What an escape!’ he muttered.

  ‘The poor fellow recognised me as – as Thalia’s friend,’ went on Hill in a low, colourless voice. ‘He told me she was hand and glove with the others; that, although she posed as a lady’s companion, she was actually very much in the confidence of Bikelas. His last words were: “Do not trust her; she will ruin you”.’

  Again his head sank into his hands. There was silence for a few moments.

  ‘Is that all?’ asked Shannon sharply.

  Hill again looked up.

  ‘Isn’t it enough?’ he asked wearily.

  ‘Not to my mind,’ insisted the other stoutly. ‘Everything points to Thalia as having played a straight game with us. Why should she ask for my assistance as she has done, why should she do so much for me, put me on my guard – oh, prove in a hundred ways her loyalty? Do you think she would have allowed me to escape, after I had listened to the conference from her chimney, and found out so much? Why should she even have countenanced such a venture on my part as the attempt to install the microphone? Dash it all, man! Use your common sense.’

  ‘How do you explain the secretary’s words?’ asked Hill, but there was a new light of hope in his eyes.

  ‘He told you probably what he thought, not what he actually knew. And, after all, what do his words amount to? She was, or is, hand and glove – I presume that’s your own translation – with the band; she posed as a lady’s companion, and was in the confidence of Bikelas. Wasn’t it her job to worm her way into the confidence of her employer’s husband and that of his companions? And, as for his words that she posed as a lady’s companion, he might easily have misunderstood her position, simply because he happened to know she is under no necessity to work for her living. Hang it all! You’re a pretty sort of lover, Tubby, if you doubt her on such flimsy evidence.’

  ‘I don’t think I do doubt her really,’ was the reply. ‘I think the shock of what he said rather upset my mental equilibrium for a while. It just bowled me out.’

  ‘I should play with a straighter bat, if I were you,’ grunted Shannon drily.

  Hill rose to his feet.

  ‘You’re right,’ he remarked. ‘I am ashamed of myself. Perhaps it’s because I’ve lost my head over her, and anything of this nature sends a horrible fear through me that I will yet lose her. It is difficult to understand why those two secretaries, if they really were in the pay of the Greek government, didn’t know that she is also.’

  ‘You are losing sight of the fact,’ Wallace reminded him, ‘that while they were simply in the pay of their government, she is actually a member of the espionage service. Do you think, Hill, that, if I wanted somebody watched, and bribed his secretary to do it, I would inform the secretary, if I afterwards sent a man or woman from the Intelligence Department to investigate? But we’re wasting time here. Tempest, I think you and Merryweather had better get back to the car, and wait in it. I haven’t fathomed this business yet, and I don’t want you to be seen with us, if we are under observation. Be careful going down the stairs. I’ll come or send for you, if I want you.’ He turned to Hill, as Tempest went out. ‘Have you locked the door of the room where the dead man lies?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ was the reply. ‘I have the key in my pocket.’

  ‘Good! The police and medical authorities will have to be informed – and warned, but that can wait for the present. Have you any idea what combination of diseases Kyprianos has associated in this devil’s brew of his.’

  ‘The chief are bubonic plague and cholera, but there are indications of something else. Without a thorough examination I cannot tell you that now, sir.’

  ‘Good God!’ muttered Shannon. ‘What a monster he must be. Would the other malady be typhoid? I remember hearing him speaking of plagues, cholera, and typhoid when I was in the chimney.’

  Hill nodded.

  ‘I should think it very likely,’ he declared.

  Telling them to keep on the alert, a warning which he realised was hardly necessary, Sir Leonard left the flat. He descended the stairs noiselessly, and arrived outside the suite that had been occupied by Bikelas, his wife, and Thalia Ictinos. The corridor was in profound darkness, not a glimmer of light coming from anywhere. Neither was there a sound. Yet he experienced the uncanny f
eeling that he was not alone, that somewhere close by was an evil presence. Sir Leonard’s instinct for danger seldom failed him. He had had too much experience of perilous situations not to recognise mentally when there was trouble about. Years of hazard and risk in the service of his country had developed in him a sixth sense, which had caused him to be intensely acute to any threatening influence around him. On many occasions he had owed his life to this. He could hear nothing, see nothing now, but he knew perfectly well there was something, not far from him, of a malevolent nature. Ability to see passably well in the darkness helped him little, for here it was thick, velvety; the murkiness of the tomb. Yet, even so, he presently thought to see something move.

  He stole away from the door by which he had been standing, keeping his eyes in the direction where he fancied he had detected the thing – whatever it was. It was aware of his presence, he believed, but, unless it were an animal, he did not believe it could see in the dark any better than he could. Before long, however, he was forced to moderate his opinion. As he moved, so the evil, uncanny creature moved after him. He presently reached the elevators; felt behind him, and experienced a sense of satisfied relief, as he became aware that the door stood open and a lift was beyond it. He backed in; drew the doors softly to. He was now in the comfortable position of being protected and, at the same time, able to look out through the glass panelling, while, if an attack was made, and the doors forced, he could ascend to the upper floor and rejoin Shannon and Hill. Nothing happened for some time, and strain his eyes as he would he could not see anything through the windows. At length, however, when he was beginning to wonder if the whole affair had been sheer imagination, he distinctly heard the doors being tried. Fortunately they possessed a strong fastening which locked on the inside. Nevertheless, his finger sought for and found the button which controlled the lift, ready to send it shooting upwards.

  He had a revolver in his pocket, but did not intend using it, except as a last resource. He also possessed an electric torch; an article as small and as thin as a fountain pen, but with an amazingly brilliant light. The only reason he had not hitherto used it was to avoid drawing attention to himself, in the hope that his presence was, after all, not suspected, though the manner he had been followed, as he moved, caused that hope to appear rather wasted. Something rubbed faintly against the glass. Was the creature feeling for it with the intention of smashing it in? At once Sir Leonard’s finger left the button, the torch was withdrawn from his pocket, pointed straight at the window, and switched on. A ray of brilliant light shot out, was focused immediately on a face. An indelible impression of it, as he saw it then, was impressed on his mind. Being within a few inches of the glass, every line was plainly visible under the glare of the torch. A sallow, cadaverous countenance, containing a long, pointed nose, small, thin-lipped mouth, strangely arched eyebrows, giving the eyes, magnified ludicrously by their glasses, an expression of surprise, confronted him. He had not seen Nicholas Kyprianos before, but knew he was looking at the man now. His glimpse was short, though complete. The Cypriot blinked stupidly for a moment in the glare then ducked away.

  Sir Leonard kept the light on, and was thus enabled to observe the thin, bent figure hurrying towards the stairs. At once he put away the torch, and swung back the doors. This was the kind of occasion, he reflected ruefully, when the handicap of possessing only one sound arm was most apparent. Softly he ran in the direction the other had taken. He was now carrying both the torch and a revolver in his hand, having arranged them in such a manner that he could switch on the one and fire the other at the same time if necessary. He made a mental note to have similar electric flash lamps fitted to his revolvers in the future; wondered why it had not occurred to him before. He reached the stairs, and a sharp ray of illumination pierced the darkness ahead of him. Down he went, but saw nothing of the man whom he suspected of carrying a hypodermic syringe in his hand, ready to deal out a loathsome, agonising death if the opportunity offered. Sir Leonard did not wish to fire, could such an action be avoided, but he was determined to catch Kyprianos, and would not hesitate, even were the dozen or so residents roused, if no other way of rendering the Cypriot harmless presented itself.

  He reached the hall, and commenced a careful search. Again came to him the feeling of danger in his proximity, and he was convinced that Kyprianos was in hiding behind one of the many lounges or great palms the place contained. He reached the switchboard which controlled the lighting of the hall and stairs. In a moment the lobby was flooded with bright illumination. He now replaced the torch in his pocket, and stood looking round him. The place appeared entirely deserted; he could see no sign of movement anywhere. Promptly he commenced a tour of examination, to return at length to his starting point convinced now that he was alone. Yet a few moments before, he would have sworn the man he was after was within a few yards of him. Had he left the building? He crossed to the door. It was standing slightly ajar, which seemed indication enough that he had gone out. Sir Leonard reluctantly decided that it would be a waste of time to attempt to follow him. There were a score of ways he might take outside, while following him with an electric torch would only serve to indicate his own position. He had inspected the porter’s glass-enclosed little office, only to find it closed and locked, but he went back there again. Leaving one of the lights burning, he switched off the others, and retraced his steps to the stairs, intent now on carrying out his delayed purpose of entering the flat of Bikelas to discover if the Greek and his wife had departed like the others. He was also anxious to find out if harm had befallen Thalia, for there was a fear in his heart that such a catastrophe had very likely happened.

  He was halfway up the stairs when again instinct warned him. He looked up to find a large flower pot descending from above. Skipping quickly aside, he was in time to escape its crashing on his head, but was unable altogether to avoid it. It struck his shoulder with sickening force, numbing his arm, and causing him to drop his revolver. Falling sideways, his head coming into contact with the wall as he fell, he rolled down several steps before lying partially stunned. Dimly he heard a half-suppressed, triumphant cry and, before he could recover himself, a figure approached, and launched itself on him. If ever presence of mind saved a man’s life, it did at that moment. Through Sir Leonard’s brain flashed the thought of the methods used by Kyprianos. He succeeded in turning on his side in such a manner that his left arm was uppermost. He had barely reached that position, when he felt a sudden, quick pressure upon that member, followed by a faint snap. As he strove to grapple with Kyprianos, the latter adroitly avoided him, was up, and stood regarding him from the safe distance of several steps below, a look of malevolence on his face that could hardly be described.

  ‘Who you are I do not know,’ he hissed, the Greek words tumbling over themselves in his fury, ‘but I doubt not you are of the party of the Englishman Shannon who by now is dying. And soon you will be dead also, not of the same disease unfortunately, but one which will give you much agony first. You will—’

  He darted away, as Sir Leonard rose shakily to his feet and, reaching the bottom of the stairs, ran across the hall, quickly letting himself out. The front door closed sharply, the noise echoing throughout the building. Wallace made no attempt to follow. He realised well enough that he was not in a condition to chase anyone at that moment, the blow on his shoulder and the fall having shaken him up considerably. Sitting down on a step, he worked his right arm until some of the numbness had left it; then reached out and retrieved the revolver lying a little way from him. It was a very lucky thing, he reflected, that he had not been too stunned to remember what Kyprianos would probably attempt, and had had sense enough remaining to roll over as he had done. The jab in his arm, telling him that the syringe had been made to do its work, the little snap indicating that the needle had broken, had been quite enough evidence of what would have happened to him, if the hypodermic needle had entered the right instead of the left arm. He actually chuckled softly to himself. The
re was no doubt an artificial arm had its uses.

  He rose, giving himself a shake in an effort to clear away completely the remaining effects of his mishap. His shoulder felt bruised and sore. Curiously enough the large flower pot, a massive affair which testified to the strength Kyprianos must possess to have lifted it, was intact. Sir Leonard’s shoulder had broken its fall, and it had, therefore, hit the stairs more gently than it otherwise would have done. It had rolled to the bottom, scattering earth all round it. As he contemplated it, he wondered why it had not smashed the shoulder bone; it could hardly have failed to kill him, if it had struck his skull.

  Apparently the noise had not disturbed any of the residents; the building had reverted to its tomb-like silence. Sir Leonard had half expected to hear excited whispers, as people emerged from their suites to discover what had caused the crash on the stairs and banging of the door. He imagined, however, that the third storey was too high up for the sound to have reached there, though Shannon and Hill, being on the alert, might have caught it. If so, they were probably straining their ears in an effort to hear what was going on – one of them might descend to investigate. However, Sir Leonard reached the first floor, and met no one. Once again he approached the door of the Bikelas suite. From a case, extracted from the inside pocket of his jacket, he took one of the neat instruments it contained. This was inserted in the keyhole and, in very quick time, the door was unlocked.

  Early in his career, as a member of the Secret Service, Wallace had made an extensive and intensive study of opening safes, locked doors, and windows, and other articles calculated to defy cracksmen and others. He had, consequently, become so expert that it is likely that, if he had possessed criminal tendencies, he could have become the most proficient cracksman in existence. His senior assistants, particularly Cousins, Shannon, Cartright, Carter, and Hill had, on his advice, studied the art until they were almost, if not quite, as expert as he. It will be gathered, therefore, that not the least of the powers, possessed by these skilled men of the British Secret Service, is their ability to open their way into the most carefully guarded and strongest receptacles – an ability that has been of inestimable service to their country on many occasions.