Shadow of Doom (Dr. Palfrey)

by John Creasey

  ‘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.

  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 surprised, 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?’

  ‘I do not understand you,’ said Zukkor. ‘There is danger enough for your wife and the girl. Indeed there is! Why should you make danger for yourself, also?’

  ‘To learn more,’ said Palfrey. ‘Bruton and I, they believe, are still wanted for murder. We will not, therefore, dare to approach the police. We will be likely to attempt a rescue on our own, perhaps with a few friends such as Neilsen. And of course we will be caught. Bane and Knudsen will waste no time, I think, but Dias will gloat—and talk. We may learn everything, and we don’t know everything yet.’

  Zukkor growled: ‘I do not like it, Doctor. I was requested by the Marquis of Brett to make sure that you were not hurt. And yet there is much in what you say.’ He turned to the Chief of Police and spoke rapidly in Swedish. ‘Will it be possible to surround the house without being seen, and so allow the Doctor some time inside?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Chief of Police, briefly.

  Zukkor clapped his hands together.

  ‘Then go, my friends!’ He smiled at Palfrey, Stefan and Bruton, and then looked a little uncertainly at Charles.

  ‘I’m in this,’ said Charles, briskly.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Señor Dias is Triumphant

  ‘How do we start?’ whispered Charles.

  ‘We break in,’ said Bruton, laconically.

  They were in the grounds of Knudsen’s house, which was in complete darkness. Clouds had blown up during the last hour and the stars were obscured. There was rain in the wind, and it was bitterly cold.

  They had left police headquarters two hours before and driven to within a short distance of the house. There they had left the car, and walked in single file up the hill to the front gates and along the drive, in silence but for the wind; Neilsen was with them; he had refused to withdraw at this stage, and alternating with his mental pictures of Drusilla Palfrey raw his own wife in his mind’s eye. He could picture her in that charming house, waiting by the telephone …

  The police had surrounded Knudsen’s house. None was nearer than two hundred yards, and they were to close in after an hour, or whenever there was an earlier summons.

  In spite of the darkness Palfrey could tell the lie of the land. Great pines towered above the roof-tops, the grounds were filled with shrubberies, and there was a belt of trees surrounding the house; there was no easier place to approach without being seen.

  Was the house guarded?

  Palfrey had little doubt that it was, but questioned whether there would be guards posted outside the grounds. That ring of trees afforded ample cover, and since the house was on a hill quick warning could be sent to the men inside.

  Their footsteps made little sound on the smooth drive. At first they groped their way forward step by step, but as they drew nearer to the house they saw chinks of light at the sides of the windows, and grew more accustomed to the darkness. The sighing of the wind was in their ears all the time, and drowned all other sounds. Now and again Palfrey, who was immediately behind Neilsen, thought he saw a shadowy figure flit across their path, or walk alongside them. There was the possibility of a sudden outbreak of shooting, and the tension rose with every step they took.

  Neilsen touched Palfrey’s hand. In turn Palfrey touched Stefan’s and the warning gesture was passed back to Bruton, who brought up the rear. They were close to the steps which led to the front door, and also to a path surrounding the house. Neilsen groped forward for the bottom step. They went up slowly, reached the path, and saw a lighted window, a little to their left.

  They walked past it, able to move more freely, for up here the wind was boisterous, and they could hear it whistling noisily through the pines.

  Neilsen stopped again. They were by the window of an unlighted room.

  Their plans had been laid with great care. Bruton, the expert at forcing doors and opening windows, came to the front and explored, using the pencil torch. The thin beam of light seemed very bright. He took a long time, but at last they heard the c
lick of the latch—the windows were of the sashcord type. They stopped, listening breathlessly; it was hard to realise that they wanted to be caught. Palfrey’s heart was thumping as he waited and before it had settled down Bruton said: ‘Okay, Sap.’

  He pushed the window up. There was little noise, only a squeak when it started to move. Then Bruton shone the torch inside. There was a chair standing with its back to the window. He pushed it gently to one side, and it scraped on wooden boards. They paused again, but there was no indication that they had been heard.

  Bruton climbed through.

  They followed him one after the other, and then Bruton closed the window and walked across the room, guided by the light of his torch. It was eerie and unnerving. Any moment the door might burst open and they might be attacked, but the silence remained unbroken. Except for the evidence of the lighted rooms they would have thought the house was empty.

  The door creaked; there was a dim light in the passage beyond. Bruton stepped through it, Palfrey followed, and they went towards the more shadowy part of the long, L-shaped hall.

  Lights flashed on!

  There seemed to be a dozen of them, at their side and above their heads – bright dazzling lights which blinded them, and even had they wanted to escape detection they would not have had a chance. As they stood there, trying to see against that dazzling brilliance, men appeared on the stairs, in the front hall and on either side, through doorways which had been in darkness.

  And there, by the foot of the stairs, was Señor Fernandez y Dias, with Lozana near him. On the stairs behind him were Bane and Knudsen. Bane was grinning, Knudsen smiling broadly, and Dias seemed beside himself with delight. His hands were raised as if he were giving them his blessing, his eyes shone, even his cheeks were glowing.

  ‘My dear Dr. Palfrey, how welcome! How good of you to come so far to seek me out. And to bring your friends—how very gracious of you! Perhaps now you will be prepared to go on that most comfortable journey to the wife of the President?’