Shadow of Doom

by John Creasey

Palfrey said: ‘We can and we will. I’ve written a full report, in code. I posted it as soon as we left Neilsen’s house—the post is the safest place. It was stamped for airmail, and will probably reach London by tomorrow, the next day at the latest. It’s up to Brett to find the evidence, if we don’t have a chance, and I think he will from the report.’ He turned on Charles. ‘Do you know about your brother Matthew?’

  Charles said: ‘Yes. The unspeakable swine!’

  Palfrey laughed, without amusement. ‘I think they had him pretty helpless, Charles. No time for bitterness. And I can see now why Brett was so secretive.’ He laughed again, and in spite of his words there was a wealth of bitterness in his tone. ‘A Lumsden was suspect. Your father put up the money with some eagerness, on condition that you could come with us. It looked as if he had planted a spy, didn’t it?’

  Charles said, stupidly: ‘The Old Man wouldn’t be in this foul business.’

  ‘Probably not. Just a Lumsden—Matthew, as it turns out. Oh, Brett warned us to keep a careful watch on you, he couldn’t have done much more than he did without telling us all the truth, but—oh, well. No time for brooding over the past—who said that? I did, didn’t I?’ He laughed again. ‘What are we going to do? Sit back and wait for arrest?’ When none of them answered, he went on: ‘We’ve done pretty well. Raoul—Neil—and now Drusilla. I was a damned fool ever to bring her. I thought it was going to be a holiday chase, with perhaps a spot of bother here and there. We should have been told the truth!’ he cried.

  Stefan said: ‘The Marquis hasn’t failed us yet, Sap.’

  ‘He has this time,’ said Palfrey, abruptly. ‘I—Hallo, what’s that?’

  ‘That’ was a heavy knocking at the front door.

  All of them stiffened, and Bruton put his hand to his pocket – he was never far from his gun. Neilsen looked towards the door, then raised a hand for silence, went out and hurried down the stairs. The door closed behind him. They heard him speaking in undertones, presumably to the man who had admitted them, and then the knocking came again, urgent and imperative.

  Bruton said: ‘This looks like it.’

  ‘I do not believe that we have been betrayed,’ said Stefan. ‘Neilsen was confident—’

  He broke off, for there was an exclamation of surprise downstairs. The front door slammed. There were urgent voices, Neilsen’s and a woman’s – both speaking in English.

  Charles looked stupidly at Palfrey.

  ‘That—that’s Muriel!’

  Palfrey said: ‘I don’t think we’ll have much time for Muriel.’ He stood watching the door as footsteps sounded on the stairs, the girl’s hurried and sharp, Neilsen’s much heavier and more deliberate. Yet he reached the door first and opened it, and Muriel came in, breathless, bright-eyed; she was dressed in the black Persian coat and the fez fur hat.

  She said: ‘They will be here in ten minutes, Lozana and several others, and they are determined not to let you escape alive. You must get away.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Muriel’s Last Effort

  Charles said in a harsh voice: ‘Haven’t we had enough of you?’

  Muriel cried: ‘You must get away. One of them followed Andromovitch, he returned and gave Lozana the address. They are waiting only until they are sure you and Charles are here and then they will raid the house.’

  Palfrey said: ‘You laughed when Drusilla walked into trouble, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I laughed! They still think I am working with them, I must keep up that pretence until it’s all over. I must make Bane think that I am with him, not against him—although in Berlin I tried to tell you. I didn’t go on, you were obviously determined to disbelieve me. I’ve managed to fool Bane for a year, I’ve kept up the pretence no matter what it cost. I even helped him and Dias at the Splendor—he was already suspicious—if I had not I think I would have betrayed myself. Now—if you stay here for another five minutes, none of you will get away alive. I might,’ she added, and repeated: ‘I might, if I can get away before they come.’

  Palfrey said: ‘You’d lead us out into an ambush, my dear. We have met you before, you know.’

  She looked at him levelly. It was hard to believe evil of her, and there was a burning sincerity in her voice.

  ‘Palfrey. I can’t make you believe me, but I am on your side; my work was to find out the truth about Bane, and I have done that. Only today I reported to the United States Embassy, they’ll have been on the radio telephone to Washington by now. I can’t make you save your lives, but I can tell you that if you don’t leave here—now—you’ll never get out.’

  Palfrey looked at Stefan. Charles burst out: ‘She’s lying again, she’s done nothing but lie.’

  Muriel said: ‘Don’t blame me for what happens, Palfrey. I have helped before. I managed to get van Doorn away.’

  Palfrey remembered in a flash that van Doorn had said a girl had been with the men who released him. He said: ‘Why was a man killed in his place?’

  ‘Because they hoped to make the police believe it was another terrorist crime,’ she said. ‘They thought van Doorn knew more than he did. But you’re wasting time!’

  ‘Perhaps. Why did they kill Laander?’

  ‘He had a token—one with a cleft in the chin—and had worked with them. He learned how big it was and planned to leave them. They named him to you, hoping you would concentrate on him. They wanted to frame you for his murder. They murdered von Kriess because he suspected the truth … They killed Garon in Paris by inciting the mob because he had discovered too much about them. They drove Midaut to suicide, and they’ll kill all of you if you don’t leave now!’

  She turned and walked towards the door. Neilsen put out his hand to stop her. Palfrey shook his head. She went on to the landing, did not turn round again, but went slowly down the stairs. Charles cried: ‘Palfrey, have you gone mad?’

  ‘Let’s get out,’ said Palfrey. ‘We’re prepared for trouble, it’s the only way we can find out the truth.’

  He led the way, ignoring a protesting Charles, while Stefan rebuked Charles sharply. They filed down the stairs amid a hush that could be felt. Muriel was in the narrow hall, with the old man beside her, both illuminated by the light from the upstairs room.

  Neilsen hurried back and switched the light off. He spoke to the old man, who opened the street door. Muriel went out first. She did not turn or run in either direction, but walked steadily towards the water channel. The others followed her into the darkness, making little noise. They could just see Muriel’s head and shoulders against the faint glow of light which came from the bridge, that bridge where the traffic crossed and the people walked, preoccupied with their troubles and absorbed in their pleasures.

  Neilsen caught up with the girl.

  ‘This way,’ he whispered.

  He took them past a narrow turning which led to a lighted street, and for a moment they could see one another; then they were enshrouded in the gloom again. Neilsen had taken them to a courtyard in front of a tall house from which no light came. They were fifty yards from the house where they had taken refuge.

  They waited in breathless silence.

  Charles broke it. ‘I don’t trust her, Palfrey.’

  ‘Quiet!’ hissed Neilsen.

  His quick ears had picked out fresh sounds, and soon they heard footfalls, those of a small party of men, stealthy and soft but nevertheless audible. Several men appeared at the end of the narrow road; the lights from the distant street just revealed the figures.

  ‘One—two—three—four—’ murmured Stefan.

  ‘Hush!’ said Neilsen.

  ‘Five—six—seven—eight,’ murmured Palfrey, under his breath. He was so intent on the men that he no longer looked at Muriel. He could hear her hushed breathing, and a faint perfume floated towards him.

&
nbsp; The eight men disappeared from sight but were still audible. There were other sounds besides footsteps – the murmur of low-pitched voices. Then, blasting the quiet, came the roar of an explosion and a vivid yellow flash, in which the crouching figures of men taking cover in doorways and behind stone posts were revealed. The flash and the sound had hardly died away before the men leapt from their cover and rushed into the house. Torchlights were shining, and they could see the broken doorway and the shattered windows.

  Palfrey touched Neilsen’s arm.

  ‘The old man?’ he said.

  ‘Safe,’ said Neilsen.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Palfrey, and they turned and followed Neilsen along the narrow roads, most of the time in darkness but sometimes in the light from a window or a street lamp. All the time they could hear the traffic on the great bridge and the tapping of hurrying footsteps. Neilsen led them up a steep bank and then, for the first time since they had met together, into a main street. They crossed the bridge and reached the security of the far side. They walked across the great crowded and well-lit square, past the Royal Theatre and the Royal Opera House, past the statue of King Gustav in the centre of the square, along a broad thoroughfare where traffic clanged, until they came to the quiet of an open space, gardens which were unlighted and where there seemed hardly an echo of the city noises.

  ‘We shall be safe here for a while,’ said Neilsen, as he drew them under the tall trees, where it was pitch dark, ‘but we must not stay too long.’

  Palfrey looked at Muriel, just able to see the pale shape of her face.

  She said: ‘Do you trust me now?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey, ‘I trust you.’

  The little party was silent after Palfrey’s words. Charles gripped Palfrey’s arm, as if to warn him not to be taken in; Neilsen drew in his breath; Stefan, by Palfrey’s side, was staring at the girl. As they stood there a car siren sounded stridently, and was followed by the roar of a fire-engine and the clanging of its bell. They could not see the fire at the little house across the canal, but had no doubt that the fire-engine was on its way there.

  Then Muriel said: ‘I think I can save your wife.’

  Charles’s grip tightened so much that it was painful. He was still unconvinced, and Palfrey admitted to himself that this might be a clever ruse to win their confidence and then betray them. He would not commit himself, but he knew one thing: the only chance of saving Drusilla was through this girl.

  ‘How?’ he asked.

  ‘They have taken her to Knudsen’s house, at Carlberg. That is on the outskirts of the city,’ she added. ‘It is a big house, where he feels quite safe. There are cellars, and any number of people can hide there.’

  ‘And they’ll just open the door for us, I suppose?’ sneered Charles.

  ‘Steady,’ said Palfrey. Then to Muriel: ‘Do you know who else is there?’

  ‘All of them,’ said Muriel. ‘Bane, Dias, Knudsen and Lozana. They will probably know by now that you weren’t caught.’ She turned and took a step forward, facing Charles. ‘I can open the front door for you, if you let me go now,’ she said.

  ‘It would be crazy!’ Charles flung at her.

  ‘I don’t see what else we can do,’ said Palfrey, mildly.

  ‘She’ll trap us all!’

  ‘Do not shout,’ warned Neilsen, ‘we do not want to attract attention. Please do not shout.’

  ‘What is Knudsen’s address?’ asked Palfrey, warily.

  ‘He is at Carlberg,’ she said.

  So she was telling some of the truth.

  ‘I know the house,’ Neilsen said, ‘it is well known, one of the finest in the suburbs.’

  Palfrey said to Muriel: ‘You’d better hurry.’

  She stood quite still for a moment, then put out a hand impulsively, and squeezed his. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she murmured to Charles, with a hint of laughter in her voice. Then she walked off, and they saw her turn into the main road, trim, neat, walking with easy grace; they watched her until she was out of sight.

  ‘It’s absolutely asking for trouble,’ said Charles.

  ‘Oh, my dear chap,’ said Palfrey, ‘it’s our only chance, and we needn’t take her at her word, you know. She said that she sent a report to the United States Embassy, and Corny can check that up for us. Our first job,’ he added.

  ‘He’s wanted by the police,’ said Charles.

  ‘We’ve got to take some chances,’ said Palfrey. ‘How far are we from the Embassy, Neilsen?’

  ‘Not very far.’

  ‘We’d better walk in ones and twos,’ said Palfrey. ‘Stefan and Charles together, Corny with me, you a yard or two ahead, Neilsen. If Corny and I have a bad break and the police recognise us, the rest of you can go on to the Embassy. You know what we want—to make sure the Embassy people convince the Stockholm police that Knudsen is holding Drusilla against her will. Don’t go further than that, let the roguery be found out as a bonus.’ He sounded almost elated. ‘Lead on, Neilsen!’

  They did not seem to be noticed as they slipped out of the little park. Neilsen murmured that he would lead them the long way round, where they could avoid the better-lighted main thoroughfare. They stood on the pavement for a moment, in a bunch – and suddenly police swooped upon them; there was not-a chance for them to break away, for the police were armed. It was over before they realised it had begun.

  Charles gasped: ‘Muriel, the—’

  ‘Hush!’ said Palfrey. ‘And don’t struggle!’

  His words were mechanical. He knew that struggling was useless, too many police had gathered about the little park. They must have been followed by a policeman from the bridge, recognised, and allowed to go into hiding until he could bring reinforcements.

  A heavily built man seemed to be the leader of the police. He kept a hand on Stefan, although had Stefan fought he could have smashed the man; but there were too many guns to give them a chance of flight.

  Cars drew up alongside them.

  Neilsen was protesting, but getting little response from his captors. A crowd gathered to watch them, the inevitable curious crowd. They were hustled into the cars and driven along the brightly lit roads. Palfrey, who sat with his eyes closed, and Bruton were together in one car, Stefan in a second, Charles and Neilsen in a third. The cars had right of way and drove fast, until they pulled up at last outside the police headquarters.

  Palfrey opened his eyes.

  There was something surprising about the attitude of the police, and only as they climbed from the cars did he realise what it was: they had not been handcuffed. It was surprising that, with such desperadoes as they were doubtless supposed to be, that precaution had not been taken. The revolvers might explain that, and yet it continued to puzzle him. He harped on it deliberately, for it stopped him from thinking of Drusilla. No matter how he talked, no matter how he tried to persuade the police that Drusilla was held at Knudsen’s house in Carlberg, he would not be able to convince them. Even if they instigated a search there was no guarantee that they would find her. Muriel might have lied altogether; Drusilla might still be at the Splendor.

  He was surprised, when he entered the big modern building, to see two men in British Army uniform. They stared at him blankly. He was led upstairs, and the others followed in single file, with police crowding the stairs behind them. It was almost a ceremonial procession.

  A door on the right of the landing was open, and the light streamed out. Palfrey turned into the room at a word from the big policeman, and as he entered, narrowing his eyes against the glare, he heard a deep-throated laugh. It was a familiar laugh, coming from the depths of the man’s chest.

  He stared in astonishment at General Zukkor, who came towards him with both hands outstretched.

  ‘Welcome, my dear Doctor!’ Palfrey gaped.

  ‘You are surp
rised, my friend, but you should not be,’ said Zukkor; ‘we do not allow great risks with such men as you. Ah! Stefan Andromovitch, my friend! And Charles. And Corny Bruton!’ He pumped their hands. ‘Now,’ he cried, ‘we can take action, perhaps with the help of our good friends the Swedish police. Action against Nazi agents who have taken refuge in this country and proceeded to commit crimes of violence! Where are they, Palfrey? And where is your wife?’ Palfrey said, ‘Is this real?’ Zukkor roared with laughter.

  ‘It is as real as the dinner at Berlin, my friend. Why should it not be? Why should I not come to see my friends the Swedish authorities? Often I have spent holidays in Sweden, I love this city, and I could not spend holidays in Germany. Did Brett not tell you that? Now, now, recover from your surprise, tell me what you can. Already it is suspected that the American Bane, the man Dias and the Swede Knudsen are together in this bad business—yes, even Knudsen. Ask my friend the Chief of Police.’ He turned and waved his hand towards another man, standing behind a large desk and smiling. Palfrey had been so astounded that he had not seen him before. ‘That is so,’ said the Swede. ‘But how did you know?’ demanded Palfrey. Zukkor chuckled. ‘The little American woman who is so charming—Muriel, is it not? She sent word to the United States Embassy, and immediately we were telephoned in Berlin, because it was of some importance. I flew here at once and—but come, my friend. Tell us what you know.’

  Palfrey said: ‘I know that my wife is at Knudsen’s house in Carlberg, and that Muriel has gone there.’ Zukkor snapped: ‘Muriel, there!’ ‘Why not?’ demanded Palfrey.

  ‘Because she is known now as an enemy of Bane,’ said Zukkor, suddenly harsh. ‘There was the affair near the North Bridge, a man was caught, he has confessed—confessed much. He was watching the house and saw this Muriel, afterwards saw her leave with you. He told others, who have escaped to warn Bane and Knudsen, so they will know. We must lose no time.’ Palfrey said: ‘Don’t be too hasty, General.’ The words sounded trite, but they made Zukkor wait with impatient expectancy. ‘I think I’d better go ahead,’ said Palfrey. ‘They may know she betrayed them, they aren’t likely to know that the police are against them. A private visit is indicated—don’t you think?’