‘Of what are you speaking, Herr Bikelas?’ he demanded in German. ‘I do not understand English very well. Perhaps you will speak my language or Italian. What is the meaning of this display of force?’
Jeering laughter greeted him from Bikelas and Plasiras. The other two apparently did not understand German.
‘You persist in the pretence?’ Bikelas continued to speak English. ‘It is useless, my friend. We were fooled properly, and I admit I was mostly to blame. The companion of my wife and my wife herself were at once convinced of your bona fides, and I and the gentlemen with me also allowed our suspicions to be lulled, after we had searched your rooms and all belonging to you. We even smiled at the progress of your affair with the beautiful Thalia. But tonight we learnt the truth. Thalia is heartbroken, I fear, for she truly loved you, but she is loyal to us. I am afraid we were at once suspicious of her also, but she convinced us to the contrary. We know, without doubt, that you and this big man, who breaks others like sticks, are spies of the British Secret Service. We know also that there is, or was, a third.’
In Shannon’s face was an expression of dawning horror. It began to look apparent that his faith in Thalia Ictinos had been, after all, misplaced. Who, but she, could have informed the conspirators of Hill’s real calling? She had learnt it in the garden. There also she had met the third man – Sir Leonard Wallace.
‘You are talking nonsense,’ protested Hill vigorously. He obstinately kept to German. ‘Can I not have a friend who is an Englishman? And who is this third of whom you speak?’
‘Enough!’ snapped Plasiras harshly in his own language. ‘You fool! What sense is there in attempting to keep up a pretence of this nature? The third man is dead, and you will soon follow him.’ Despite a heroic attempt to refrain from showing his feelings at the news that Sir Leonard Wallace was dead, Hill started a little; his face went white to the lips. ‘Ah!’ sneered Plasiras. ‘Who is this third, you ask, and the mention that he is dead upsets you! Bah! It is evident from your face that no mistake has been made.’
‘I was upset that you threatened my death,’ returned Hill.
‘How is it that an Austrian, as you call yourself, can speak so many languages? German, Italian, English and now Greek! It is very surprising, is it not?’
‘Not at all. What about your own knowledge?’
‘I am a diplomat and statesman,’ replied Plasiras. ‘To me the learning of languages is a necessity.’
‘You were a statesman,’ put in Shannon, speaking for the first time, ‘but you’re not now. You’re one of the greatest scoundrels unhung.’ Plasiras roared with rage, and it looked, for a moment, as though he intended to fire. ‘If I were you,’ went on Shannon calmly, ‘I’d put those guns away. None of you dare shoot in this building. You’d bring all the residents down on you.’
‘Do you think we would mind that?’ laughed Bikelas. ‘My friend, we would kill you and this gentleman who likes the Austrians so much that he pretends to be one of them. Then, if anyone came, and tried to stop us, we would shoot them. There are not very many people living here. Most of the flats are vacant.’
There was no doubting that he meant what he said. Shannon and Hill were in a distinctly perilous position. Both were racking their brains for a way out; both were tormented by the dreadful fear that Sir Leonard was actually dead, though both resolutely refused to believe it. They had heard of his death before, only for him to turn up, if not unharmed, at least very much alive. The significance of his prolonged absence, however, added to their dread. Surely, if he had been alive, he would have returned to them before then. Another man suddenly appeared; stood glaring at them from between Bikelas and Plasiras, his eyes grotesquely distorted behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. Shannon at once recognised the long nose, thin lips, and emaciated, stooped form of Nicholas Kyprianos. His gaze was concentrated on the burly Englishman, and gradually it became convulsed with an expression of such ferocity that the two before him watched appalled.
‘How is it?’ he snarled in Greek, ‘that you are not ill, in agony, dying? And you also?’ He turned his eyes on Hill. ‘You went to the room where lay the man dying of a disease that cannot be cured, that affects all quickly who come into contact with it. I know you went there – I watched, and I laughed – but you still live and look in health. And where is the third man?’ he demanded, turning to Plasiras. ‘I left him lying on the stairs. When I looked for the body, it was gone. Have you moved it?’
‘No; we did not see it,’ was the reply.
‘Then it was you,’ he grated, turning again to glare at Shannon and Hill, whose minds had become very much relieved at the announcement of the disappearance of the ‘body’. It looked to them as though Sir Leonard had once again escaped his enemies. ‘Where have you put him; tell me!’ went on Kyprianos. ‘I would see him.’
‘Whom are you talking about?’ asked Hill.
‘You know. The man who moves so quickly and so silently. I must see him dead. Alive he is dangerous – I know it.’
‘There is nobody else here,’ declared Shannon. ‘Why do you not search?’
Kyprianos stepped forward.
‘You think,’ he snapped, ‘that then attention would be taken from you, but you will not escape me again.’
‘Don’t come too near,’ warned the other sarcastically. ‘We might give you the disease you think we ought to have.’
Kyprianos laughed harshly.
‘We are immune – my friends and I,’ he returned. ‘We cannot be harmed.’
‘I thought you seemed remarkably brave for devils of your kidney. Why, you little worm, if you come a step nearer, I’ll break you in two.’
Kyprianos backed away somewhat hastily. He had heard too much of Shannon’s doings not to fear contact with him. Hill had been studying him ever since he had entered the room, and had become convinced that he was on the verge of madness, if indeed his brain had not already gone. All remaining shreds of reason were hanging by the merest thread. Obviously he had lost a good deal of control, and it was apparent that his companions feared him now. To them he had become a deadly menace as well as a man in whom they pinned, or had pinned, their unholy ambitions.
‘Tie them up, and tie them up well,’ the scientist ordered his companions. ‘Then you and I will consult about what is to be done with them. We will also find the other man.’
Nobody showed any particular eagerness to undertake the task of binding the two. Plasiras, particularly, eyed Shannon with misgivings. Kyprianos lashed them all with the fury of a scornful tongue. Strangely enough, although they resented his words, it did not seem to occur to them to ask him why he did not show them an example.
‘We have no rope,’ growled Padakis, at whom most of the Cypriot’s vitriolic outburst was directed.
‘Swine! Why did you not bring it? Did you think I told you of these two, and bade you make prisoners of them, in order that you could converse with them only? I said the man Shannon would come. I was right. He came. It is true I was surprised when he entered this flat, for even I had lost suspicion of the other man. Then I watched the two go to the room where lies the body reeking with my disease. I laughed. Instead of one contracting it there would be two. Yet what do I see? Somehow they have escaped. Presently they will tell me how. Then came the other man to the corridor below. He was like a mouse, so quiet, so silent – he moved without noise. But, at last, I got him, and into him I injected aconitine. It is true the needle broke in his arm, but by then the dose was inside. Where is he? These men must have moved the body, and I would see it. Fool that I was not to watch him die. Tie them up, I say; then we can act.’
‘What do you suggest we tie them with?’ asked Bikelas sarcastically. ‘Our handkerchiefs?’
‘Are there not sheets on the beds that can be torn up into strips? They will be strong enough to hold even – him.’ He pointed a long, shaking finger at Shannon.
At a word from Plasiras, Padakis went to carry out the suggestion. While he was aw
ay, Hill again made an attempt to assert himself as a supposed Austrian, without any expectation of convincing them. Actually his object was to delay whatever they contemplated doing in the hope that Sir Leonard would yet appear. They ignored him, however, Bikelas alone listening to him, though with a sneering smile on his cruel lips. Padakis returned presently with several strips torn from a sheet. He handed some to the others, retaining the rest himself, yet they still hesitated to approach the two Englishmen.
‘Why not shoot them, and have done with it?’ asked Michalis.
‘No, no, no!’ cried Kyprianos. ‘They will not be shot. I have other plans.’
At that Plasiras and Bikelas, followed reluctantly by Michalis and Padakis, slowly approached Shannon and Hill, their revolvers held ready to shoot. Shannon drew himself up, and, noticing the action, with one accord they stood still. At that the burly Secret Service man laughed.
‘What a pity,’ he commented, ‘this little scene can’t be reproduced in a film! It would make a hit as a great comedy success.’
‘Cowards!’ screamed Kyprianos. ‘I will show you.’ He leapt forward, brandishing a hypodermic syringe that he had taken from a case in his pocket. ‘In this little weapon is some of the virus of the disease that cannot be cured and kills agonisingly,’ he snarled at the Englishmen. ‘Make one little attempt at resistance and into you both will go some. Perhaps you mind not being shot, but this you will mind.’
Shannon’s face paled a little under the bronze. He and Hill, who had also turned white, were forced to accept the inevitable. There was perhaps a chance, they thought, if they allowed themselves to be bound, though there did not seem a great deal of hope now. Still, if it were possible to avoid a hideous death, they preferred anything rather than that. Observing that they intended making no attempt at resistance, the four men became, all at once, very brave. Padakis and Michalis tied Shannon’s hands behind him, until he found it impossible to move them, Kyprianos, Plasiras, and Bikelas standing threateningly by. He was searched, and his revolver taken away. They then made him sit in a chair, his knees and ankles being bound as tightly as his wrists. The process was repeated with Hill. When it was done, Kyprianos broke into a loud, cackling laugh. He bent over Shannon, until his face was only a few inches from the other’s.
‘You were fooled,’ he chuckled, ‘fooled by a man with a hypodermic syringe that contained nothing! Alas! I have none of my precious mixture with me, but I will fetch some now and, as you sit there, you will be injected, and I will watch it begin to act. No one will defy me!’
Shannon looked at Hill, and the glance was returned. Neither face contained any fear, only expressions of annoyed aggravation.
‘Don’t be a fool, Kyprianos!’ came sharply from Plasiras. ‘You must not use any more of the virus. Already we are anxious to know what is to happen about – about the body in your room. You are going insane. How can our object be attained if you do this? Even now I fear you have spoilt all.’
‘Have no fear, my friend. I but rid you of your enemies. You will see how I will make all appear well. When these are dead, and I have assured myself that the other man is dead also, there will be no spies left to betray us.’ He went out of the room, returning some minutes later. ‘Where is that other?’ he snarled at Shannon.
‘I really couldn’t tell you,’ was the calm reply, ‘and I certainly wouldn’t, if I could.’
Kyprianos gave vent to a string of oaths, which stopped suddenly when Plasiras asked him what had become of General Radoloff. He stared at the other.
‘I have not seen him for many hours,’ he replied; ‘neither have I seen Doreff or Bruno.’
Bikelas laughed.
‘I think you have frightened them, my Kyprianos,’ he declared. ‘They talk of deserting us.’
‘Then,’ snarled the scientist, ‘they must die for the sake of us who remain.’
‘You talk too much of death,’ complained Michalis. ‘I think it is in your blood and brain, and is making you lose all reason. It is time we—’
‘Drop your pistols, all of you,’ came startlingly in a charming feminine voice, in which a note of resolute command predominated. ‘Do not move, or I will shoot.’
Thalia Ictinos stood in the doorway, still clothed as Hill had last seen her. Her white face was set grimly; her great eyes gleamed fiercely. Without a tremor, she held an automatic pointed at the five conspirators, all of whom, with the exception of Bikelas, had their backs turned to her. Shannon chuckled loudly. The suspicions, which had been renewed in his mind against her by the words spoken by Bikelas, had long since been swept away by the remarks of Kyprianos concerning the manner he had been watching events. Now she had come to prove her loyalty, trustworthiness, and honour, beyond any shadow of doubt, in the most gallant manner possible. One frail girl against five desperate scoundrels. Hill’s very soul was in his eyes, yet fear was there also; fear of what might happen to her. The four men holding revolvers hesitated; then obeyed orders, allowing the weapons to drop to the floor. Kyprianos turned, and started towards her with a scream of terrible fury, but the automatic, turned unflinchingly on him, brought him up dead.
‘Traitress!’ he spat. ‘I should have disbelieved what you said. All along I have mistrusted you, with your beautiful face and glamorous personality. It was only that which convinced the others tonight that you were innocent, when I had discovered who Kirche was.’
‘What is the meaning of this, Thalia?’ asked Bikelas softly. ‘Is it that you fear for your lover and have come for him?’
‘I have come for both Captain Shannon and Mr Hill,’ returned Thalia firmly.
‘Ah! His name is then Hill, and you know it!’
‘Of course I know it. It did not occur to you, Ivan Plasiras, and you others, that I have been working for your downfall ever since I joined you. But it is so. Now you are finished. Release those gentlemen!’
An exclamation of sheer admiration broke from Shannon. The bravery of it! Never, in all his adventurous life, had he witnessed a woman bearing herself more dauntlessly. Desperately now he and Hill were trying to loosen their bonds, but neither made any headway. The thongs had been tied fiercely, with cruel force.
‘How is it you came here?’ demanded Plasiras. ‘How did you get from the room in which you were locked?’
‘There are ways of getting from locked rooms,’ came the calm reply. ‘And it may interest you to know that I heard you discuss your plans; the wall is very thin. But I am not here to enter into conversation with you. Michalis, and you, Padakis, unfasten the bonds of my friends.’
It seemed as though she were about to win through. The men addressed stood hesitant a moment or two; then moved slowly towards Hill and Shannon. It was as they were leaning forward to commence on their task that the last vestige of restraint broke in the mind of Nicholas Kyprianos. Thalia, knowing him to be the most dangerous of them all, was watching him with particular attention, but she was unprepared for the cunning action he took. He suddenly threw himself forward as though diving, his outflung hand just reaching and gripping one of her ankles. She fired promptly, but his rapid descent to the floor caused her to miss and, in a moment, she was flung down as he jerked up her foot and unbalanced her. Even then, though she must have been badly shaken, she fought desperately for freedom, but they did not give her a chance. Plasiras and Bikelas, as well as Kyprianos, flung themselves on her and, before long, she was rendered helpless. Padakis was sent to tear more strips from a sheet and, a few minutes later, she was bound as firmly as the two Secret Service men, and flung into a chair. The disaster which had overtaken her caused Shannon and Hill to fight desperately to release themselves. Cries of rage broke from their lips, as they witnessed the treatment meted out to her. Shannon was a terrible sight. Exerting all his magnificent strength, he strove to burst the thongs that held him, until his eyes were swimming in blood, the veins in his temples standing out like great cords. The work had been done too well, however. He felt his shackles give a little, but cou
ld accomplish no more. Hill was equally unsuccessful; he moaned aloud at his failure and inability to go to the rescue of the girl who had dared so much for them. Kyprianos danced about in front of her, uttering cries more animal-like than human in his triumph. Bikelas, Plasiras, and the other two, who had picked up their revolvers, stood by; ugly, entirely unsympathetic smiles on their faces. At length Bikelas spoke.
‘So, my beautiful Thalia,’ he commented in his soft, unctuous tones, ‘you were all the time working for our downfall! This is a great surprise to me. What will Madame think of the disappearance of her companion? For I am afraid you will have to disappear. It will be a matter of the most profound regret to me, my Thalia. You will never realise how I regret it.’
Thalia’s eyes flashed with the utmost scorn.
‘My only sorrow,’ she returned with great spirit, ‘is that the disappearance, of which you speak, will prevent me from seeing or, at least, reading about your execution as a traitor to your country. You fools, do you think you will be safe because you murder these English gentlemen and me? Outside is one arranging now for your apprehension. Before long the Italian police will be here. What then, my fine conspirators?’
‘What is that you say?’ demanded Plasiras sharply, bending forward and shaking her fiercely, while the other three, showing their alarm in their faces, looked on. ‘Who is this one of whom you speak?’
She turned her glorious eyes on her two companions in misfortune.
‘I hope I have not been injudicious, have I, Raymond?’ she asked her lover in English.
‘It won’t do any harm for them to know,’ he returned.
‘What do you say, Hugh?’
‘Not a bit,’ replied Shannon. ‘They won’t escape, anyhow.’
Thoroughly startled, the four men commenced a hurried conference, endeavouring to include Kyprianos in the discussion, but that was, for a long time, beyond their powers. Engrossed in triumphing over the captives, threatening them with the horrible death he intended they should die, he was unable to grasp that his companions were trying to convey to his shattered mind that they themselves were in danger. At length, however, he seemed to understand the purport of their vehement and reiterated statements. He stood and stared at them, his eyebrows raised in such a manner that the permanent look of surprise was exaggerated to a ludicrous extent.
Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 29
