Shadow of Doom (Dr. Palfrey)

by John Creasey

  ‘Henrik?’ echoed Palfrey.

  ‘The old man,’ said Anna, ‘the man who works in the garden. He would come to open the door, thinking I was alone, and hurry away at once when he knew that you were with me. He is so shy, and he dislikes strangers.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘He is quite faithful,’ said Anna, answering his unspoken thoughts. ‘There is a small room near the kitchen, he sleeps there.’

  Palfrey nodded, but felt uneasy as he turned away. As he did so the old man slipped across the passage from the kitchen to his room. They all saw him, a tall, drooping figure, his eyes towards the ground. He disappeared without a sound, and Anna put on the kitchen light. She was determined to make coffee. Palfrey made a mental note to see that her stocks of food were replenished from the stores in the jeeps.

  There were four main bedrooms. One had a doll’s-house character and charm. It was large and yet the furniture was small and slender, the twin beds were covered with pretty chintz, matching the curtains, and the thick-piled carpet was plain, pale blue. It was Anna’s room, and she suggested hopefully that perhaps Drusilla would like to share it with her. Palfrey groaned inwardly, but gave smiling assent when Drusilla glanced towards him.

  Another room with twin beds, more solidly furnished, was next to it; Palfrey and Charles were to share the second room.

  While undressing, Charles suddenly became more talkative.

  He did not mind admitting, he said, that Paris, Antwerp and now Rotterdam were getting him down. He had heard so little laughter, seen so little animation – except false, brittle laughter and unnatural vivacity. Everyone seemed to work by clockwork. And it was a damned shame that Anna van Doorn was tormented as she was. Couldn’t Palfrey see that she hardly dared think about her father – or about other things, for that matter? Something, said Charles, ought to be done about it.

  ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘That’s what we’re hoping. Get to sleep, old chap. We might not have an undisturbed night.’

  Outside, the Chief of Police made a tour of inspection of his men, for he wanted to make sure that nothing could go wrong. Nothing stirred, no light showed, it grew very cold; the women slept, Charles slept, Palfrey was sometimes dozing, sometimes wakeful. There was something he did not understand, something constantly prodding at his mind, something which he ought to see but could not. At last he fell asleep.

  He woke up suddenly, with a sound echoing in his ears. He heard the next bed creak, and Charles said in a whisper:

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Palfrey, and then jumped, for the sound which had woke them up came again – a thunderous banging at the front door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Back from the ‘Dead’

  Drusilla was on the landing and Anna just behind her, peering down the stairs. The knocking had ceased again, but started up as Palfrey and Charles, shivering in their pyjamas, hurried down the stairs. Drusilla followed them, caught up with Charles in the hall, and put his overcoat about his shoulders; she had Palfrey’s over her arm. Anna was coming down the stairs.

  ‘All right!’ called Palfrey.

  He opened the door, not quite knowing what to expect, except that he was sure that he would see members of the police cordon. The sight of the Chief of Police, a chunky figure in a greatcoat, with two men by his side and two others just behind him, came as a complete surprise. He did not at first notice that the two men at the rear were carrying a third.

  ‘Hallo,’ said Palfrey, inanely.

  ‘Let us in, please,’ said the Chief of Police, with a note of suppressed excitement in his voice. ‘Let us in—Miss van Doorn, please do not worry, we have good news for you, extremely good news—good news!’ He was so shaken out of habitual calm that he talked like Dorninade. ‘Your father is back!’

  Anna pushed past Palfrey.

  Palfrey stood aside, with Charles and Drusilla. The Chief of Police stumped in, and then the two men followed, carrying the third. It was van Doorn, unconscious.

  Palfrey asked: ‘Has he seen a doctor?’

  ‘No, no, he has only just arrived.’

  ‘Take him upstairs,’ said Palfrey. ‘Anna, don’t get in their way.’ He took Anna’s arm, and she stared tensely after the two men as they went upstairs, Drusilla leading the way. They took van Doorn into the bigger bedroom, and Palfrey followed with Anna. ‘He will be all right,’ he said, but he could not be certain; he was most wary of this development, although he hardly knew why.

  ‘Can we have a better light?’ he asked.

  The Chief of Police said: ‘Yes, if there is a bulb.’

  ‘We have a more powerful one,’ said Anna. She slipped away like a wraith, to return with another electric-light bulb. She fitted it in without turning the light off, and the greater radiance filled the room and shone on van Doorn’s pale face. He was breathing, and there were no visible marks of ill-usage.

  ‘We can’t have everyone in the room,’ said Palfrey.

  The Chief of Police gave orders, men disappeared, and Charles and Drusilla went out, leaving only Anna, the Chief of Police and Palfrey. Anna was loosening her father’s clothes. He was dressed in a soiled nondescript suit, his beard was matted, his hair overlong, and he looked incredibly dirty, as if he had crawled through mud and it had dried on him. The girl showed no embarrassment, and worked as if she were a trained nurse. Palfrey helped her, relieved to see no marks of violence on van Doorn’s body. Gently, he felt the back of the old man’s head.

  ‘A bump,’ he said. ‘Knocked out, that’s probably all.’ He turned back van Doorn’s eyelids; the pupils were normal, there was no evidence that he had been drugged. ‘Yes, just knocked out,’ he said to Anna, and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Is there a hot-water bottle?’

  ‘Yes.’ She went out, swift as a deer.

  ‘Are you sure that is all?’ asked the Chief of Police, incredulously. ‘He is just knocked out!’

  ‘And at the point of collapse because he’s been starved, I think,’ said Palfrey. Undoubtedly van Doorn was much thinner than when Palfrey had last seen him, and there were lines on his face and dark patches beneath his eyes, which suggested that he had been through a great deal – yet he was not only alive, he was in no danger. What could this mean?

  Anna came in. ‘Mrs. Palfrey will bring the bottle,’ she said. She stood by the side of the bed, looking down at her father – and then suddenly she went down on her knees, not in tears, not in collapse, but with her hands pressed together and her face lifted towards the ceiling. Her lips moved; the words were not audible, but they were words which could have been understood in any language: she was praying.

  Palfrey said: ‘What happened?’ He was in a corner of the room, and he spoke in an undertone.

  ‘It was an incredible thing,’ said the Chief of Police. ‘There was a car coming near, and we were very watchful, for we knew what you expected. The car drew up at the end of the road, it had only the side-lights showing. It stopped there. We could have caught the driver had we expected him to do what he did, but we thought the men would come nearer to the house. Instead, they threw van Doorn into the road—there were three men, I saw them with my own eyes—and then drove off. I did not even give the order to open fire, they were moving off before I could do so. I hurried forward, and’ – he shrugged his shoulders – ‘that is what I found.’

  ‘Odd,’ said Palfrey, ‘but good of you to be there in person. You’re a great help.’ He was watching Anna thoughtfully. She was looking at her father now, and for the first time he saw her lips curve in a smile. There was happiness in it, happiness and a great contentment. She stood up slowly when Drusilla came in carrying two stone hot-water bottles. Charles was hovering outside the door.

  ‘Keep him warm, and he’ll come round before long,’ Palfrey said. You won’t need to keep a man with him, sir, will you? We can report what he says.’

  ‘I would like to stay myself,’ said the Chief of Police, and promptly stif
led a yawn. ‘But perhaps you are right! I shall leave some men, of course.’

  ‘Please. What time is it?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘After six,’ said the Chief of Police.

  ‘No more sleep for me tonight,’ said Palfrey.

  He had never felt more wide-awake, nor had the others. They left Anna with her father, and went to dress. When Palfrey returned to the bedroom Anna was sitting by the window, looking out at the first faint light in the eastern sky, and smiling to herself. Palfrey beamed down at her, and she stood up.

  ‘I will dress now,’ she said, ‘and go downstairs. Call me, please, when he wakes up.’

  ‘The very moment,’ Palfrey promised.

  Van Doorn sat up in bed, still pale and dirty. An hour had passed since he had come round, and he had talked a great deal, more than was good for him, but it had been so heavy on his mind that Palfrey had not tried to restrain him. The story, from the moment that he had touched down at Rotterdam airport, was simple enough – far too simple, thought Palfrey, although Charles was smiling with satisfaction, and looked almost smug.

  Anna was downstairs. A woman who came to help her clean the house was with her. Outside, several policemen were still on duty. It was a clear warm day after an early-morning frost, and the bright sun gleamed on the water, making it look like a sheet of silver touched with gold.

  At the airport van Doorn had been met by a taxi-driver, one of the few in Rotterdam, a man whom he had seen about before. He had been driven away, the driver had taken a wrong turning, people had sprung out from behind a cottage and seized van Doorn. He remembered being injected with a hypodermic needle, but nothing else until he had come round in a small room of a house which he did not know, and even now he did not know whether the house was in Rotterdam or further afield.

  In his room the only window had been painted black, and the only light he had been allowed was a few hours a day from a single electric bulb.

  For three days no one but an old man had come near him. He had been given a diet of bread and water, and little enough of that. Then there had come a visitor. Van Doorn had heard a car draw up, had expected his caller – and yet had been startled, even frightened, by the man who had entered, wearing a shiny black mask.

  That, Palfrey had been able to assure him, was the second appearance of the black masks in the wake of Dias.

  Weakness from lack of food had heightened the effect on van Doorn, but he had withstood the shock. The man had talked in broken English, and van Doorn had found it difficult to understand.

  He had wanted to know what van Doorn had told Palfrey.

  Van Doorn had refused to talk, had been threatened but not beaten, and left alone for another two days. Then his visitor had come again, in the same grotesque trappings. He said that he knew what van Doorn had told Palfrey – about the radium. There had been threats, this time against Anna, not van Doorn himself. Van Doorn had seen little point in refusing to speak, since they knew or suspected the existence of the radium. He had answered most questions, but had refused to say whether Palfrey had promised to come on the quest. That had not worried his interrogator. The man had left him for another two or three days; van Doorn had lost count of time, and by then was feeling ill, for his diet was not increased. There had been more questions, or rather the same questions put in different form, trap questions obviously designed to find out whether he had told Palfrey anything else.

  Then the man had gone, and not come back. Van Doorn had expected to be taken to his death when two strange men, neither of them wearing masks, had taken him from his room, bandaged his eyes and bundled him into a car. He remembered hearing a woman’s voice. There had been a long journey, a stop for the night, another journey – he was unable to see where he was going because of the bandages – and, finally, he remembered being knocked over the head.

  ‘Can you understand it?’ he asked Palfrey.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Palfrey, and Charles’s smug smile faded.

  ‘Then please explain,’ said van Doorn.

  ‘They have another interest,’ said Palfrey, treading warily; van Doorn might also be touchy on the subject of Black Market. ‘I had some idea before, now I know that there’s a secondary mystery. They thought you knew something about that. They decided that you didn’t. If they seriously thought that you had told me anything besides the radium, the blow over the head would have been a trifle heavier.’

  ‘I am at a loss,’ said Van Doorn. ‘You mean that they no longer think you are aware of their real purpose?’

  ‘That’s it, in a nutshell,’ said Palfrey, ‘and it isn’t very reassuring.’ He smiled. ‘Except in one way. There isn’t likely to be further danger for you and Anna.’

  ‘I am certainly not sorry about that,’ said van Doorn, ‘but I cannot understand why they should do these things. And why, as Anna has told me, some poor fellow was murdered and they pretended that I was dead. It makes no sense.’

  ‘Wrong,’ said Palfrey. ‘It makes sense, but we can’t see it. Deep, clever, cunning game—I’ve been too much inclined to underestimate Dias. But you don’t know Dias, do you?’ he asked, with a smile. ‘A South American gentleman of some persuasiveness and personality. He—’

  ‘Fernandez y Dias,’ breathed van Doorn.

  Palfrey snapped: ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘But of course I know him!’ cried van Doorn. ‘He was here in Rotterdam on the day that the Germans left. He was actually at the hospital part of that day. I had met him before; he was at the Castilian Consulate when the Germans were here, several times. I had operated on one of his staff, and met him then. He pretended to be pleasant, but he was not a man whom I liked, I distrusted him. Why is he interested in this?’

  ‘I can’t answer that one,’ said Palfrey, and added ruminatively: ‘Yet. I expect Charles can! Have you any idea what Dias was up to?’

  ‘He was very friendly with the Germans.’

  ‘Yes. We’d gathered that,’ said Palfrey.

  There was nothing more to be done there. He did not think that van Doorn would be in further danger, although he was glad that police were still outside, keeping watch. Because he could not see what purpose there would be in taking Drusilla away just then, he left her there with Anna and van Doorn, and went into the city with Charles. His knee was still painful, but there was no sign of inflammation; it was more nuisance than anything else. They caught a tram half-way to the Square, and passed the spot where the bomb had exploded the previous day. The wreckage of the car had been removed, but there was still grim evidence of the attack.

  De Morency was at the Guyder Hotel, and he, for once, was in low spirits.

  ‘My dear friend,’ he said sarcastically, ‘I do not think your ideas are so good as they are made out to be. Since last night, when we could have taken Lozana without any difficulty, he has never once been alone. And he has seen people of great importance—Government officials, especially those to do with the importing of food. Do you know what he is doing here?’

  ‘No,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘No!’ cried de Morency. ‘No, the great Dr. Palfrey does not know. The answer is—beef!’

  ‘Ah,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘He is negotiating with the Dutch for a supply of beef! Beef, I tell you! He is an authorised agent of his country, and the Dutch treat all people who can supply food with great respect. Oh, they think Señor Lozana is a wonderful man!’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with them,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Beef!’ cried de Morency. ‘Have you gone completely dull in the head, Sap? Would the official agent of a Government be also dealing in Black Market? And is radium necessary for beef!’

  Palfrey laughed.

  ‘I wouldn’t put anything past Lozana and Dias. Nor should you: beef needn’t make you turn up your nose like that. In fact,’ went on Palfrey, ‘if Dias and Lozana are doing a bit with the Black Market on the side, the Dutch Government might be inclined to turn a blind eye.’

  ‘Nonsens
e!’ snapped de Morency.

  ‘You’re not at your best,’ said Palfrey. ‘They might feel it wise. If they upset Dias they might upset his Government and so lose a lot of food. Dias would be able to blackmail them, if it came to that. “Do it my way, or I will sell to a country where I can get a big rake-off.”’

  ‘I do not believe that it could be done successfully,’ said de Morency, still sceptical.

  ‘I am prepared to believe almost anything of Dias,’ said Palfrey. ‘A cable or two to Dias’s home town will probably be enough to check that he is an official agent.’

  ‘You need not trouble,’ said de Morency, ‘there is no doubt about it.’

  ‘All right,’ said Palfrey. ‘According to Laander, he is selling food in return for rubber.’

  ‘With which to erase oneself,’ said de Morency, scornfully. ‘I think it is an excellent article.’

  Palfrey laughed and looked at Charles.

  ‘Here were have the mercurial Frenchman! In five minutes, he will probably be falling on my neck and telling me what a wonderful man I am. Don’t let it worry you too much, Raoul. We got off on the wrong foot, but we’ve often done that before. Nor can we blame ourselves—no one took particular pains to help us.’

  ‘It has perhaps passed the attention of Dr. Palfrey that we are looking for radium,’ said de Morency. ‘Also, that we equipped ourselves for a great expedition, we expected to be digging all over Germany, and—and—’

  ‘Digging may come later,’ said Palfrey. ‘We prepared against all emergencies, that’s all.’

  ‘All! Sap, when are we going to start the work we came here to do?’

  ‘We’ve started all right,’ said Palfrey. ‘I can’t wave a magic wand and say abracadabra and conjure the leaden containers out of the air. When we’ve got to the bottom of Dias’s activities we won’t be so far from the radium. I know one thing we want before we can go much further.’

  ‘What?’ asked de Morency, sourly.