Shadow of Doom (Dr. Palfrey)

by John Creasey

  Palfrey did not speak.

  ‘Come, my friend,’ said Dias, advancing a step, ‘surely you are not surprised to see me here? Nor to find us waiting for you? Have you ever reflected, my dear doctor, on the psychology of races? The English and the North American have remarkably similar traits—remarkably similar. They can be relied on always to make great sacrifices for the sake of their ladies! We expected you, my friend. Our invitation could hardly have been written more plainly.’

  ‘I see,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘And although the younger woman is reluctant to speak,’ Dias went on, ‘your good friend, your so good friend, Muriel, doubtless promised you help when you arrived. Unhappily for you, we learned in time that she was, after all, not so loyal as we had hoped. You see, we had to force admission from her.’

  He pointed towards an open door.

  Palfrey turned, and the others looked in the same direction. There was a bright light in the room, and sitting just inside the doorway was Muriel. They hardly recognised her. She was strapped to a chair, her clothes were torn, her bare shoulders were criss-crossed with weals, her face was deathly white and her eyes were glassy with pain. They had not touched her face, but there was blood on the back of one of her hands.

  Palfrey said heavily: ‘The old tricks, Dias.’

  ‘I am happy to tell you that in my country many of these tricks, as you call them, were originated,’ said Dias. ‘You should be glad, Dr. Palfrey, that we have not treated your wife in the same way. She was not a traitor. But come—you will be most anxious to see her!’ He led the way towards the room, and as he passed Muriel he slapped her face sharply.

  ‘Why you—’ cried Charles.

  He was the first of the party to move, and he went like an arrow from a bow towards Dias. Lozana shouted a warning, Palfrey and Stefan jumped forward to try to save him – but a shot rang out, and before he reached Dias Charles threw up his hands, then fell forward. As he fell his arms hit Muriel’s knees; he did not fall to the floor but was supported by her, as if he were kneeling before her, begging her forgiveness.

  Bane said: ‘Be careful, Palfrey.’

  Palfrey ignored him, and was allowed to go to Charles and raise him up. Charles was conscious, and in a moment or two Palfrey found that the bullet had entered the fleshy part of his waist, and there was no danger. Stefan lifted him, carried him into the room and put him on a couch.

  Dias had gone in first and Lozana and the other men followed, all showing their guns.

  Drusilla was sitting in an easy chair in one corner of the room. She was not tied to it, and half rose as Palfrey appeared, but Dias said: ‘Keep still, Mrs. Palfrey, keep still.’

  She sank back. Palfrey looked across at her, and wondered desperately how he could send her a message of reassurance – and whether, in fact, such a message was justified. This show of strength proved that Dias was taking no chances. Even when the police came it was not likely that many of those present would escape alive.

  Palfrey bent over Charles.

  ‘Leave him,’ said Dias.

  Palfrey ignored the command, and Knudsen strode forward, gripped Palfrey’s arm and swung him round. The Swede was still smiling; Palfrey wondered what he had ever seen in the man to remind him of Erikson.

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ Knudsen said.

  ‘I do not think that Dr. Palfrey and his friends are in a good temper,’ purred Dias. ‘And it would, perhaps, be wise not to allow them to cause a further disturbance.’

  What followed was obviously prearranged. Lozana struck Bruton, who was standing near him, with the butt end of his gun. Another man struck Neilsen. Charles was out of action in any case – only Stefan and Palfrey remained, and for a moment it looked as if Stefan’s size was holding the men back from striking him. Then suddenly Knudsen kicked at his legs, Lozana sprang forward, a third man brought the butt of his gun heavily down on the back of Stefan’s head. It was all done so quickly and with such ruthless precision that Palfrey, sick with anger, knew that Stefan had really had no chance.

  Dias said: ‘Take them out.’

  So he was not to be a victim yet, thought Palfrey.

  He stood watching as they carried the unconscious men out – one struck Charles savagely when Charles lashed out with his fists – and when they had gone, three men carrying Stefan, Palfrey and Drusilla remained in the room with Dias, Bane, Lozana and Knudsen.

  Muriel was there, too, pushed into a corner with her back to the others, her head lolling forward on her chest.

  Palfrey said: ‘What good do you think this will do you?’

  Dias rapped: ‘Much good! And I will have no insolence from you, Palfrey. Understand me. None of you will remain alive. It has all been planned, most carefully planned. None of you will live, and what I intend to learn from you is simple: have you sent reports to London?’ He strode forward and gripped Palfrey’s throat, and there was surprising strength in those podgy fingers ‘Have you told London?’

  Palfrey said: ‘Yes. My report was posted.’

  Dias released his hold and stepped back, startled, not expecting that prompt affirmative.

  Bane laughed harshly. ‘Nothing can be proved.’

  ‘There was never a chance that you would get away with it,’ said Palfrey. ‘Never a remote chance.’ Could he goad them into talking?

  ‘You are wrong, Palfrey,’ said Dias, but he looked at Palfrey uneasily, as if his confidence had been shaken. ‘You are quite wrong, Palfrey.’

  ‘Of course he’s wrong,’ said Bane.

  Dias said: ‘We have protected ourselves well, Palfrey. You were sent to spy on us, the girl Muriel to spy on Bane, but we have protected ourselves very well. Bane, you see, will return to Washington and will report. He is not the leader, oh no! He has been doing the work which he volunteered to do, and what has he learned? Much, Palfrey! The woman Muriel betrayed her country, worked with rogues to the damnation of Europe—she did that, Palfrey. And who were the rogues? I ask you, who were they?’

  Palfrey said nothing.

  There was a glint in Dias’s eyes now; his disquiet was all gone, he was carried away by his own oratory, by his triumph, by his gloating satisfaction.

  Bane and Knudsen stood either side of him. Palfrey did not doubt that they were confident now, they believed that they had produced a satisfactory answer to every accusation. In his heart. Palfrey was afraid that they had …

  ‘One of them was the Englishman, Anderson,’ said Dias, gently now. ‘A great Englishman who loved money above all else, and who hated Russia. He would work for the downfall of unity among the great nations.’ He sneered the words again. ‘The great nations! How best could that unity be disrupted, Palfrey? By spreading hunger and illness and discontent – hunger, illness, discontent! You fool!’ he cried. ‘You and the leaders of your country, of Russia, of America—you fools! To think that you could win, to think that when the fighting stopped in Europe you would be allowed to win! No, Palfrey! The second battle is on! Hunger and starvation, a Europe devastated by illness, sickness which cannot be checked because the medical supplies are not available in quantities enough. You seek radium—you will never find it, it was taken from the hospitals, it was hidden where no man will ever find it, but that was only one small step, one very small step, Palfrey, one of dozens which we are taking. Black Market is another, a greater one. Shiploads of food go to those markets, shiploads of medical supplies founder. Europe is rife with intrigue, and that intrigue will get worse; distrust will spread among the three great nations of the world—distrust—enmity—hatred—and the future war will destroy your nations and destroy the flower of your manhood, this time beyond all hope of recovery, beyond all hope. Do you hear me, Palfrey? Do you hear me?’

  Palfrey said: ‘Yes, Dias.’

  The man’s voice dropped. ‘You will be wise to listen well, you will not hear these words again. All this, all this we have done, the breaking down of the economy of the smaller countries through the Black Market, the spre
ad of disease which cannot be arrested because of starvation and the lack of drugs—like the disappearance of your precious radium; even tonight the destruction of—’

  Bane said: ‘Why tell him everything, Dias?’

  Dias roared: ‘It will be good to see the horror in his eyes when he knows all the truth, when he sees, before he dies, the conflagration of a world disintegrated by atomic forces, when he realises that all he has done and others have done to end war is wasted effort, wasted, thrown away, because—because some men are loyal to an ideal!’

  Bane spoke again. ‘He knows plenty now. There’s only a little more he has to know. You’ve named me, Palfrey. I shall name Anderson. That’s the trouble with Josh, he was always an easy man to handle. He turned against me, Palfrey, when he saw what I was planning with Dias, so I dealt with him. You fell for that one. He’ll live—oh, he’ll live, but he’ll have no mind to think with, he’ll be trained what to say. And he will say that he organised these shipments, naming men in America and England who had nothing to do with it. There will be a scandal like nothing you’ve known. Surely,’ he added, speaking in a low-pitched drawling voice, ‘it will be some scandal, Palfrey. Big names brought down, competitors of mine—not bad! And for a while our shipments will stop, and Europe won’t get over this coming winter. It will be the worst on record. The work’s done. Palfrey, and you couldn’t stop us.’

  Palfrey said: ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘You think so?’ said Bane. ‘Maybe there is a little more to finish off, but not so much. We have agents in every city and town. Maybe you would call them Nazi agents, and you would not be all that wrong. Black Market won’t be stopped this winter, and by next summer we shall start work again.’

  Palfrey said: ‘Where did Knudsen come in in this?’

  Bane laughed. ‘Knudsen has worked with me for a long time, he’s our chief European agent. He can control the movement of ships, he can glut one market with fish and starve another. Dias didn’t know that he was working with us—’

  Dias clapped his hands impatiently, as if annoyed that the spotlight had been taken away from him.

  ‘That was of no account. It was that I believed Knudsen was against us, and listed him.’

  ‘Like Garon, von Kriess, Midaut and others,’ said Palfrey, heavily.

  ‘Yes, like those,’ said Dias. ‘They would have worked against us, they were powerful, and we ruined them, as we shall ruin all who stand in our way. It is well done, Palfrey—and why? Do you know why? Because we know that the Bolshevik hordes will descend upon Europe unless their country is ravaged by plagues and starvation, as it will be when we have finished. There will be no hope for Russia, no hope, no hope …’

  There was froth at his mouth, his eyes were blazing, he was like a man possessed; and in truth he was demented. Even Bane was tainted with the madness.

  Bane said: ‘Now you’ve got it, Palfrey. If the damned fools in Washington and London had made way for Hitler, we would have been saved a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Just another beer-cellar gang,’ said Palfrey, and he drew his hand across his forehead, as if he were too weary to think. ‘Just another, starting afresh.’

  Knudsen snapped: ‘It has never ended! All of us were loyal to the Leader. We can tell you where your missing war criminals—criminals you dare call them!—are hidden; we can tell you where the men are working today, in Europe, in Germany, in Asia, to keep alive the eternal spirit of the Third Reich—’

  Palfrey said: ‘You’re a very patriotic Swede, Knudsen. And all of you are in this for money—and power. Money and power.’

  ‘I am a German!’ Knudsen snapped. ‘I took Swedish nationality many years ago, working for the Great Day.’

  ‘Der Tag again,’ said Palfrey. ‘Oh, you fools!’ He looked across the room at Drusilla, and he was smiling. He walked across the room and they did nothing to stop him. He stood by her, looking down. She peered up at him with a strained face, but as she saw the smile in his eyes she grew easier, hope dawned again. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘They won’t get away with it.’

  Dias moved swiftly towards him, grabbed his shoulder and swung him round. ‘We have detailed information to produce against men who are innocent but can be proved guilty! We have our agents so well placed that there will be no danger.’

  Palfrey looked into his face – and laughed.

  He did not think that he and Drusilla would get away. He even wondered if these men could succeed in their great bluff. If he could make them uncertain of themselves it would be a help. If he could make them think that there was more that he could tell them, and they questioned him, as they had questioned Muriel, he might win time, might just win through.

  He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece; the hour was nearly up, but was there even a chance that the men in the house would be taken by surprise?

  Bane said: ‘You know something, Palfrey. Talk right now. If you don’t—’ He swung round and pointed towards Muriel, and Lozana stepped towards her and pulled her chair round. ‘That’s an idea of what will happen to you—’

  Then the window crashed in.

  There was no warning. Just the crash, and then the billowing curtains and the voices of men. Palfrey shot out a hand and struck Dias across the face, kicked out at Bane – and did not need to act again, for men streamed in at the window, and all danger was over.

  ‘It was well done, my friend,’ said Zukkor. ‘I knew that we could rely on the police, they are our very good friends. What Knudsen did not know is that he has long been suspected, and the positions of his men in the grounds were known, they were overcome with ease. And some of us were listening outside, Palfrey, it was well done.’

  He beamed about him, at Palfrey, Drusilla, Stefan and Bruton, all unhurt. Neilsen had a flesh wound; Charles, his wound now dressed, was in an upstairs room where Muriel’s wounds were being tended – a distraught Charles, who could not apologise to her enough. Bane, Dias and Lozana had been taken unhurt, but Knudsen was wounded in the chest, and was in the hall waiting to be taken to the Serafimer Hospital. There had been little talk, but the raid had been a complete success.

  Zukkor said: ‘A south American who has always been a member of the Bund, an American with hatred for the Soviet Union because he is half German, an Englishman in the man Lumsden, a Swede in Knudsen—no matter what he says he is a Swede. And when we have finished it all, there will be men from other countries, perhaps from Russia—we too have our traitors—there are still Trotskyites and Tsarists. But so few from each country, Palfrey, so few who could have done so great a harm.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘They have done plenty. Are all the records here?’

  ‘Dias is a man of jelly,’ said Zukkor, scornfully; ‘he is talking very fast, my friend, we shall know all the men who are guilty before this night is out. You are worried still, I see, but there is no need to worry.’

  ‘There is,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘The radium will be found,’ said Zukkor, ‘have no fear of that; we shall find everything.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Palfrey. He stood with his hand pulling at the short hairs in front of his head, frowning. ‘There was something Dias started to say but did not finish. The destruction of something or other tonight. I wish I knew what.’

  ‘Dias will tell us,’ Zukkor said confidently.

  ‘Perhaps. He—’

  Palfrey broke off, for there was a sudden hubbub in the hall. Knudsen began shouting at the top of his voice.

  ‘I will not go! I will not go there—not there—do not take me there, not there—’ He went on and on, in a frenzy of fear.

  Zukkor moved into the hall, and Palfrey followed him quickly. ‘Where is he going?’ asked Zukkor of the ambulance men who had lifted him.

  ‘To the Serafimer Hospital,’ the man said.

  ‘No,’ screamed Knudsen, ‘no, I will not go—I will not go!’ He tried to throw himself off the stretcher, and it took two men to hold him down. ‘I will not—I will not!’


  Palfrey reached his side and looked down at him, his eyes bleak, an expression on his face which made the others stand and watch him.

  ‘Why won’t you go?’ he demanded, and when Knudsen stared at him in mute fear he gripped his throat and said: ‘Why won’t you go? Zukkor, give me a knife!’

  ‘No!’ screamed Knudsen. ‘It is to be destroyed by fire, like the others, like the others—it will start tonight—’

  ‘So that’s it,’ said Palfrey, urgently. ‘Work for the police, arson at the Serafimer Hospital; arson destroyed the other hospitals. Zukkor—’

  But Zukkor was already outside, shouting, and the Chief of Police was already at the telephone.

  It was a fortnight before Palfrey reached London. The truth was widely known; the world’s Press had told the whole infamous story, arrests by the hundred had been made throughout Europe. Pressure was being brought to bear on the Castilian Government. In the United States F.B.I, men were investigating all of Bane’s affairs; in London Scotland Yard experts were going through Josh Anderson’s records, Anderson was alive, and had told the truth, he had started as a partner, grown sick of it, threatened to disclose the truth, and been promptly dealt with.

  It was known that there had been suspicions of Bane, but Muriel—her name was Muriel Corliss—had been assigned to the case. She had been approached by Dias at first, but until she had reached Stockholm she had not been sure of Bane’s real activities.

  Muriel and Charles were recuperating in a Swiss mountain village.

  Deep beneath the cellars at Knudsen’s house the radium had been found, and Palfrey had called at Rotterdam and seen van Doorn and Anna, a new Anna, a happy van Doorn. It was known now that von Kriess had suspected much of what was planned, had told van Doorn about the radium, believing it would lead to greater disclosures; so there was a German who had helped.

  Food distribution was better now than it had ever been. The Governments of Europe had received a salutary shock, there was no more procrastination. The police struck hard, and although there were still some Black Market operations, they were on a scale which could be closely watched and would be reduced and finally stamped out.