‘You had better stay with me until the powers that be have decided their next move,’ announced Charles, although Alex had not begun to imagine an alternative.
He nodded to Charles in agreement, and then drifted into thoughts about whether he would have the opportunity to spend time with his family or even perhaps re-establish contact with Teddy Palmer; it was that hope that dominated his thoughts until the train pulled into Euston station.
Once they had disembarked from the train, as no car was waiting for them, Charles strode purposefully towards the taxi rank, with Alex following, opened the door of the first hackney carriage and instructed the driver, ‘Ennismore Gardens.’
It was evident that the driver was unhappy at the relatively short fare, as he had undoubtedly been waiting for some time to get to the front of the queue, so he took the most circuitous route to Charles’s home to maximise the charge. Alex could sense that Charles was becoming irritated.
Pulling up outside the house, the driver announced the fare, ‘That will be one and nine pence, guvnor.’
Charles paid the driver, and commented, ‘The fare from Euston station to here is always one shilling and threepence. If I had wanted a tour of London, I would have gone to Thomas Cook’s. Here, take your fare.’ He counted the right amount. ‘And had you driven us directly, I would have given you two bob, so your detour has cost you your tip! And be satisfied that I have not taken your badge number to report you!’
Both he and Alex got out of the cab, collected their cases from the luggage compartment next to the grumbling driver, and approached the front door, which opened just as Charles was reaching for the bell.
‘Good evening, Ross; it was a bit of a wasted journey, I am afraid. Mr Carlton will be staying until we can sort out what is happening with him next.’
‘Good evening, milord, and very good,’ the butler replied.
Charles headed straight for the drawing room, and poured himself a large Scotch whisky. ‘One for you?’ he asked Alex.
‘Thank you, just a drop; I’m exhausted, so I will retire, if that is all right?’ Alex asked.
Charles poured a small measure, diluted it with a splash of water and handed the glass to Alex. ‘Yes, that’s probably a good idea,’ he said. Charles was in the least affable mood that Alex had ever seen.
*
Normalcy had resumed the next day, and Charles was his usual affable self again. After having breakfasted, they both went to the War Office, and, as they entered through the main doors in Whitehall, Alex realised that the route to Commander Jeffers office was considerably easier if one did not use the tradesman’s entrance at the back. Again, Alex and Charles were placed in the anteroom by Miss Willoughby, but it was only a few moments before the commander called them through, and Simon Potts was already waiting.
‘Alex,’ greeted Commander Jeffers, who then added, almost as an afterthought, ‘and Charles.’ He extended his right hand in greeting, which Alex took and shook. ‘Sorry for buggering you around, but things are developing here, and your project is gaining momentum.
‘Simon here,’ he indicated Potts, ‘has suggested that it might be more natural for your cover story if you were repatriated by your newspaper using more conventional transport, as a paper trail of evidence might be safer than an unexplained arrival back in Sweden. One never quite knows who to trust at the moment, so simplifying matters is often better.
‘With that in mind, we are looking to book you on a steamer from either the Port of London or Felixstowe, whichever is the more expedient. I think it would be nice if you spent the intervening time with your family on leave. Simon will liaise with you to let you know what is happening. Therefore, Charles, you can nip off back down to Hampshire after the weekend.’
So, Alex and Charles were to part, and the thought went through Alex’s mind as to whether Charles had been aware of these plans.
Charles, Alex and Simon all left Jeffers’s office together and assembled in the anteroom.
‘That is good news,’ chided Charles in a jocular manner, ‘I was beginning to think that we were to become permanently attached! That said, as we still have a bit of leave, we should mark our departure from London in style. Dinner tonight, my treat, at Rules in Covent Garden?’ Charles offered.
‘Do you not think that Rules is a little stuffy?’ ventured Simon.
Alex was amused to see Charles was taken aback by the challenge; it was evident that Charles was not used to others questioning his suggestions.
Simon continued, ‘One of the advantages of the volatile political situation in Europe is the number of excellent restaurants that are popping up all over the place. Let me recommend Le Canard d’Or – The Golden Duck – in Wardour Street at, say, 8.00pm?’
‘I am not sure that I know it,’ said Charles.
‘You will,’ responded Simon enigmatically, ‘They’ve rather a good cook who used to work for the Élysée Palace in Paris and is said to have been President Lebrun’s favourite. It’s utterly unpretentious, but with excellent food.’
Alex noted the slight to Charles’s recommendation, and looked at Charles, who was still smarting from Simon outmanoeuvring him, and said, ‘Shall we?’ to which Charles had little choice but to agree.
*
On arrival back at Ennismore Gardens, Alex was unsurprised to find that his suitcase had been packed and was awaiting him in the hallway of Charles’s home. How Ross seemed to know everything was a complete mystery to Alex, but he concluded that keeping one pace ahead of the household was the measure of a good butler. Alex used the telephone in the hallway to call his mother, and he told her that he would be staying at Onslow Gardens for the next few days, during his leave. She was delighted.
Ross sent the houseboy to bring a taxi for Alex, and, on its arrival, Alex heaved his suitcase into the luggage compartment, shook hands with Charles, thanked him and bade him adieu until later that evening before getting into the car and giving the driver his address in Chelsea. The taxi drove off.
*
No sooner had the cab pulled up outside the address in Onslow Gardens than the door opened, and his mother came to greet him with her arms outstretched. Having got out of the taxi, Alex hugged her and retrieved his suitcase before paying the driver, who was waiting impatiently, although his irritation soon dissolved when he realised that Alex had given him a sizeable tip.
The Countess Tatiana Ivanovna was a little surprised that Alex had arrived alone, but gratified that she could bombard her son with all the questions about what he had been doing and where he had been, which she had been reticent to ask when Alex last visited along with Charles. Alex remembered his instructions not to discuss his role, even with his family, and felt guilty that he could not tell his mother about his adventures, but she forestalled him.
‘I have been reflecting on your commission in His Majesty’s navy,’ Alex’s mother began. ‘It is a noble calling; even the tsar in exile, the Grand Duke Kirill Vladimirovich, was a navy man. But whatever you do, you must promise me that you will be careful. I lost my husband to war; I could not bear losing my son also!’
Alex’s mother was a little saddened that he had arranged to eat out that evening, but when she learned that Alex had met up with Simon Potts, his old friend from school, she was satisfied.
*
Simon was already seated at the table when Alex arrived at the restaurant at 8.00pm. It was quite unlike any other restaurant that he had experienced previously; it was large and bustling, with tables packed tightly in four columns separated by aisles, which aproned waiters were hurrying up and down, balancing trays of food precariously at varying heights, and not once spilling a morsel. When diners had completed their meal and left, their tables were cleared and reset, even before they had reached the door, and other patrons were being steered towards the recently vacated table by a debonair maître d’. The high ceilings of the restauran
t and the mirrored walls gave the impression that the restaurant was much larger than it really was, and the well-worn marble-tiled floor failed miserably to absorb the noise of the busy restaurant.
Simon explained that this was the most authentic brasserie restaurant in London, and it had quickly gained a reputation that resulted in queues of hopeful diners. ‘They only allow reservations for ten tables per hour,’ enlightened Simon, ‘For all of the others, you have to queue. But the food is excellent and well worth the wait.’
A harassed waiter rushed past and gave Simon and Alex a menu each.
‘Should we not wait for Charles?’ Alex enquired.
‘Oh, he left a message with the office to say that he had returned to Hampshire, so he will not be joining us. Never mind; it gives us a good chance to catch up.’
Alex was a little offended that Charles had abandoned him and returned to Hampshire without even saying goodbye; he had been with Charles throughout his training, and Alex had almost elevated their acquaintanceship to friendship.
The waiter returned to the table with an open pad, ready to scribble down their order.
‘Bonsoir, Jacques, que recommandez-vous ce soir? [Good evening, Jacques, what do you recommend this evening?]’ asked Simon faultlessly.
A brief conversation ensued in which the waiter discussed the various options with Simon in French. Alex followed most of it, but the speed of the discussion occasionally left his rusty language skills deficient.
‘Jacques, here, and one never argues with Jacques,’ Simon said conspiratorially, ‘recommends the soupe au pistou to start – for which it is perhaps a little late in the summer, but he says it is good – followed by the civet de Liévre, which is sort of a classic hare stew; apparently, it is especially good tonight!’
‘C’est bon! [That’s good!]’ responded Alex, getting into the ambience of the restaurant.
The waiter scribbled on his pad, grabbed the menus and rushed away.
The conversation between the two friends, as they reminisced about their school days and how they came to be in their present roles, followed the pattern of similar conversations when friends meet after a long time. The nostalgic recollections waned when food was on the table, as the quality of the fare deserved the respect of silence as each morsel was thoroughly appreciated. Neither Simon nor Alex had ordered wine, but the wine that was served with each course perfectly complemented the food, and Alex soon realised that this was a wholly unpretentious temple to gastronomy, where the food was the star attraction.
Alex was amused by the cabaret that was unfolding at an adjacent table, where an infantry captain was entertaining a young lady, who, quite respectably, could have been his niece, but it was clear to any spectator that this was not the case. The captain was noticeably trying to impress his young guest, and Alex learned a valuable lesson while watching this scene unfold before his eyes.
Full of self-importance, the captain had taken to summoning the waiter by clicking his fingers and calling, ‘Garçon!’ as loudly as he was able.
Jacques, the fraught waiter who was also looking after Alex and Simon, drew a sharp intake of breath and approached the captain’s table. ‘Monsieur?’ asked the waiter.
‘What do you recommend?’ demanded the captain.
‘For you, monsieur, I must recommend the escargots followed by the cervelle de veau, but for mademoiselle, perhaps something a little lighter, and, ’ow you say, aphrodisiaque?’ He almost nudged the captain. ‘Perhaps a few oysters and a little fish?’
‘Excellent!’ announced the captain without reference to his guest, ‘And bring me two bottles of your best champagne, garçon!’
The captain’s guest received her meal of half a dozen deliciously fat oysters and a delicate fillet of sole served with green grapes with a good deal more gratitude than the captain welcomed his snails and calves’ brains. When the bill arrived after the meal, the colour drained from the captain’s face. He realised that the two bottles of 1928 Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque – served from the exquisite Émile Gallé designed, art-nouveau-inspired bottles – had cost about six times as much as the food, and the total cost of twenty-one guineas was well over a month’s pay. The captain reached into his tunic pocket, withdrew his chequebook reluctantly, and paid the account; his evening already ruined.
The lesson that Alex learned was that of discreet respect.
Meanwhile, both Alex and Simon’s meals were superb and were very reasonably priced, considering the quality.
A meeting had been arranged with Commander Jeffers at 10.00am the following morning, so both Alex and Simon chose an early night rather than going on elsewhere after the restaurant.
When Alex arrived home, it was already after 11.00pm, and he was amused to see the light in the drawing room was still burning as his mother waited up for his return.
*
Dressed in a profoundly conservative suit, Alex went for breakfast the next morning. He hung his jacket on the back of the chair, which had always annoyed his mother, and the maid brought Alex a rasher of bacon, scrambled eggs and a rack of toast. Compared to the veritable feast that he had enjoyed while stopping with Charles, breakfast at Onslow Gardens was a simple affair. His mother had never been a great breakfaster, very often going without the first meal of the day or merely having coffee served to her in bed; it was correct to say that, unlike Alex, the Countess Tatiana Ivanovna was not a morning person.
Alex collected his raincoat, trilby and umbrella, which was certainly needed as he left the front door. Even though it was raining, Alex decided to walk, and after turning right onto the Old Brompton Road he started to enjoy the freedom of solitude as he walked towards South Kensington Underground station, where he caught the old District Railway to the Embankment. Crossing Northumberland Avenue and strolling up Whitehall Place, Alex had a feeling that he was not alone. Slowing, he turned towards the curb, took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and made a show of blowing his nose while looking covertly for any abnormal behaviour of the other pedestrians behind him. At first, he noticed nothing suspicious, but then, as he was putting his handkerchief back in the pocket, he detected a man fastening his shoelace on the other side of the road.
During his training at the Grange, Alex had learned the art of surveillance techniques, and he recalled his instructor telling him that should he be following a target who stopped unexpectedly, the follower should continue until a convenient opportunity allowed the observer to slow down discreetly and permit the mark to overtake. One thing that you never, ever did was to stop when the person you were following stopped, as it made it easy for the object to spot his pursuer. Also, fastening shoelaces was a dangerous practice, as it placed you at a different level to the mark, and, unless you were using the crouched position for camouflage or launching an attack on the target, you may place yourself at a disadvantage.
Alex concluded that if he had grown a tail, it was either by a trainee or an incompetent. Resuming his journey, and deciding to confirm or deny his worry, Alex turned into Whitehall Court and increased his pace, turned left onto Horse Guards Avenue, and then slowed down to an almost funereal pace. He was gratified to note that the man whom he suspected was following him, turned onto Horse Guards Avenue virtually at a run; it was easy to confirm his tail. Turning right onto Whitehall and entering the War Office, Alex gave his name to the commissionaire before going up to Commander Jeffers’s office, where the redoubtable Miss Willoughby placed him in the anteroom.
No sooner had he sat down than Commander Jeffers opened the door to his office, and bade Alex welcome. Alex entered the office, shook hands with Simon Potts and sat down.
‘I do not know whether it is something we should be concerned about,’ began Alex, ‘but I rather think that someone was watching me this morning.’
‘Really?’ responded the commander, ‘And when did you notice this?’
‘I became susp
icious at the Embankment, and I identified my tail just after crossing Northumberland Avenue,’ replied Alex.
‘Well,’ the commander said, ‘it is good that you spotted your follower, but you left it rather late, as you were under surveillance from Onslow Gardens. We often use our people as targets for training purposes, and the fact that you spotted your follower means that he failed in his task, but you should have been quicker in identifying him, so you also need to brush up on your anti-surveillance tactics!’
Alex was a little baffled at this revelation; was he still not trusted?
Simon chipped in to say that it happened to him quite often, and very often, once he had spotted his tail, he would enjoy playing with them, taking them on a wild goose chase just to see whether they realised that they had botched it. If Simon had the chance, he would dive into a large department store, as trying to cover all exits was impossible for a single follower; even if there was a team, it made it difficult, especially if you changed your appearance surreptitiously in the store by buying a hat or a new jacket! He implied that it was quite good fun to lead the trainees a merry dance.
Commander Jeffers returned to the agenda, and he announced that the Germans and Soviet Russia had signed a non-aggression pact, which very much complicated matters in the Baltic region, so Alex was booked on a Swedish ship that was leaving from Felixstowe in ten days. Meanwhile, Alex should spend the time writing articles about London to refresh the journalistic skills that he had learned in Hampshire. He also needed to learn his “legend”; that is, the background story about what he had been doing before being assigned to Finland by the Svenska-Posten newspaper. Alex understood that several articles had already appeared in the paper from London, ostensibly written by Alex Carlsson, their “special correspondent”.
Alex was happy that there was a delay of ten days before his departure, because the following Tuesday was his birthday, and he was looking forward to celebrating. It was anybody’s guess how he would mark his next birthday if Europe were at war. Of the few guests that he intended inviting, the one he most looked forward to seeing again was Teddy Palmer.
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