James Maxted 03 The Ends of the Earth

by Robert Goddard

  LATER THAT MORNING in Tokyo, three men stepped from a limousine before the entrance to Yasukuni-jinja, the Shinto shrine dedicated to Japan’s war dead, set in parkland north of the Imperial Palace.

  Two were arrayed in military uniform: Count Tomura Iwazu and his son, Noburo. The Count’s uniform, that of a colonel, was noticeably the grander of the two, with gold buttons and braiding and a colourful red and gold sash. He carried it well, with the bullish air of a man who had earnt his decorations. Noburo wore a plainer lieutenant’s uniform and looked somehow diminished in the company of his father.

  Their companion, dressed in a simple linen three-piece suit, was Fritz Lemmer. He took in the view before them at a glance: the enormous iron torii, the gateway to the shrine, the avenue beyond it and the imposingly roofed hall at the end of the avenue, where the names of all those who had died in the service of the Emperor since 1868 were faithfully recorded.

  Their destination, beyond the shrine itself, was the military museum in its grounds. Protocol required a foreigner being introduced into senior circles within the Japanese government, as Lemmer was, to pay his respects before displays of ceremonial swords and suits of armour and mementoes of those who had met heroic deaths fighting the Emperor’s enemies, be they Russian or Chinese – or German.

  ‘You consider this a waste of your time, Lemmer-san?’ Count Tomura asked as they approached the torii.

  ‘No, Count. I consider it a duty.’

  ‘But not an honour?’

  ‘Are we to argue about this? The Russians were your enemy in 1904. In 1914 they were your ally. Now they are your enemy again. It is the way of the world.’

  ‘Still, you seem impatient. As does my son, I have to say.’

  As they passed beneath the torii, Noburo protested against this judgement, speaking in his native tongue. The Count’s only reaction was to smile.

  ‘You see, Lemmer-san? He denies it also. But I know he would prefer to be with Mademoiselle Pouchert. You will remember her from the ship?’

  ‘There were many Frenchwomen aboard,’ said Lemmer none too good-humouredly.

  ‘But only one for Noburo.’

  Noburo spoke again in Japanese. His father shot back a retort, also in Japanese.

  ‘It is perhaps more than impatience in your case,’ the Count continued, glancing at Lemmer. ‘Are you worried about something?’

  ‘What have I to be worried about?’

  ‘Nothing I know of.’

  ‘I do have a request.’

  ‘Of me?’

  ‘When I call at your house later, I wish to bring Everett with me. It is time he understood a little more of the work he will be required to do.’

  ‘Bring him, then. If you have a use for him.’

  ‘I think I do. It may be necessary to bring Duffy and Monteith as well.’

  ‘Whatever you wish. I am at your service.’

  ‘As I am at your service here.’

  ‘For form’s sake, we will agree you are. And there is form to be followed.’

  They passed through a second, bronze torii, then crossed to the chozuya, the trough of purifying water, where the Count indicated that Lemmer need not join him and his son in the rinsing of their hands and mouths.

  Next they proceeded to the haiden, the hall of worship. They walked up the steps to its doorway. There the Tomuras tossed coins into the offerings box, rang the gong, prayed, clapped their hands twice, bowed and backed away.

  ‘What did you pray for, Count?’ asked Lemmer, looking at him curiously.

  ‘That must be secret, Lemmer-san. Will you pray also?’

  ‘I am not a believer in any religion.’

  ‘Neither am I.’

  ‘So, this is merely … superstition?’

  ‘It is Shinto. There is nothing merely about it.’

  Lemmer nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then I will.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out some coins and was about to toss them into the box when Tomura stopped him.

  ‘Be sure none of the coins is ten sen.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Ten is ju, which can sometimes sound like toi – far. Give ten and what you pray for will only happen far in the future.’

  ‘Could it happen far away in distance?’

  Tomura considered the point. ‘It is possible,’ he conceded. ‘I had not thought of it.’

  ‘But I am thinking of it,’ said Lemmer. He checked his coins, selected one and tossed it in. Then he rang the bell, bowed his head and uttered a silent prayer.

  While Lemmer prayed, Eugen Hanckel lay awake on the narrow truckle-bed in the cellar of Les Saules on the French shore of Lake Geneva. It was still the previous night in Europe. The villa was silent, the cellar utterly dark and clammily chill.

  Eugen was in pain from blisters on his mouth and nose. His head ached and the manacle fastening his left arm to a pipe was chafing his wrist. He was frightened and confused. The only one of his captors he had seen since being set upon was a young Englishwoman who had told him he would be released when his father had given them ‘what we want’.

  He did not think what they wanted was money. Whatever it might be, though, he knew his father would resist giving it up. Vater was an important man in the world, though the world seemed unaware of it: a great and important man. He had warned Eugen more than once he had enemies who might become Eugen’s enemies and now it had happened.

  ‘Tapfer und treu.’ That was what Vater had said Eugen should always be. Brave and true. And he was determined to behave in a way that would make Vater proud of him if he ever learnt of it. Yes. He would conquer his fear. And his captors. If he could.

  Captivity was also at that moment on the mind of Pierre Dombreux as he walked out of the front door of Count Tomura Iwazu’s Tokyo mansion and surveyed the manicured grounds from the shade of the pillared portico. He lit a cigarette and strolled, with every appearance of casualness, out on to the driveway.

  Tomura’s residence in the capital was a perfect emblem, in its way, of modern Japan. A Gothic pile of excessive size, with a gloomy, dark-wooded interior, it had, attached at the rear, a small and in Dombreux’s opinion altogether more elegant Japanese-style home. It embraced the values of the West, while preserving, artfully concealed behind them, the traditions of the East.

  The gardens were likewise divided into Western and Japanese sections, the latter requiring a certain amount of exploration to be discovered. Dombreux had had ample time for such exploration since arriving in Japan. Lemmer had required him during those weeks to remain ‘on call’ at the Tomura mansion. He had left it on only a few occasions, most recently to travel to Yokohama with Nadia Bukayeva and inform Sam Twentyman of Max’s death.

  Dombreux was painfully well aware that his difficulties were largely of his own creation. He had considered making a run for it after being got the better of by Max in Marseilles. But he had known Lemmer would come looking for him then. The option of going through with the pretence that Max was dead had seemed preferable. What he had not bargained for was that Lemmer would insist he accompany him to Japan. The promise of a new identity and a new, well-funded existence, somewhere of his choosing, had been deferred.

  Now a crisis was approaching which he knew he must forestall. Sooner or later, Lemmer would learn Max was alive. He was probably already in Japan. It was simply a matter of time. He had to make a move.

  Unfortunately, the Tomura mansion stood within a high-walled boundary more suited to a castle than a house. And it was a well-guarded boundary. No doubt Tomura had good reason to fear intruders. He must have accumulated many enemies in the course of his life. But the precautions he had taken against those enemies served also to confine his guests – if a guest, rather than a prisoner, was what Dombreux really was.

  Still, Lemmer had said he would soon have business for Dombreux to transact on his behalf in Osaka. He had not specified what that business was, but the journey there would offer Dombreux his best chance of slipping out of sight – and out of Japan.
It still seemed best to await that chance, whatever the strain on his nerves. Max would not want to advertise his survival, after all. His friends were scattered to the four winds. The situation was grave, but not yet, he judged, critical.

  He had been in tight spots before. He remembered his confinement in the Peter and Paul Fortress in Petrograd, under threat of execution; his interrogation, sometimes with a gun to his head, in Berlin; his numerous brushes with death on the streets of several European cities. He had always survived. He had never failed to find a way out. And he would not fail again.

  He was sure of it.

  Eugen stretched his unmanacled right arm down below the bed, to where the pretty Englishwoman had stowed his plimsolls. He grasped the left shoe and slid his forefinger round the outside of the heel. Yes. The strip of plaster was still in place. And he could feel the blunt end of the blade concealed beneath it. ‘Tapfer und treu,’ his father had said. ‘Tapfer und treu … und bereit.’ Brave and true … and ready.

  And he was.

  THEY GATHERED IN the basement billiards room. The table itself was covered, the game unplayed by the Tomuras, as far as Dombreux could tell. The devotion of a large room to it was another extravagant symbol of deference to a Western style of life.

  Lemmer invited Dombreux and Everett to sit on one of the benches supplied for players and spectators. Nadia, curiously, remained standing, stationed by one of the oil paintings of English hunting scenes that graced the wood-panelled walls. Lemmer prowled the rugged space at the baulk-end of the table, in the shadow beyond the glare of the electric chandelier. Daylight seeped in through the small windows set high on one wall, but still it was hard to remember that outside it was a sunny late afternoon.

  ‘You are here to learn what I will require you to do in Osaka next week,’ said Lemmer.

  Dombreux was disappointed, but not distraught. Nadia and Everett were evidently going to accompany him to Osaka and they would not be leaving for several days. Well, there it was. He backed himself to be able to give them the slip when the time came. And he would just have to wait until then.

  ‘Before we discuss that, however, I need to settle a few outstanding matters. Please leave us, Everett.’

  Everett looked surprised and a little disgruntled, but left the room obediently. As the door opened and closed behind him, Dombreux noticed it was being minded by one of the several bulky, impassive manservants Tomura kept about the place. He was not a reassuring sight.

  ‘There has been an incident in Switzerland, Pierre,’ Lemmer continued. ‘My son Eugen has disappeared from the school where he is a pupil.’

  Dombreux displayed only puzzlement, but anxiety began to claw at him inwardly. ‘You have a son?’ he asked innocently.

  ‘This is the work of Appleby of the British Secret Service. He hopes taking my son will enable him to defeat me. It will not. But that is for another time. For now, I ask: how could he know of Eugen’s existence and his relationship with me?’

  ‘I … can’t imagine.’ Dombreux glanced at Nadia. ‘Had you heard about this?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nadia replied coolly. ‘Fritz told me earlier.’

  ‘Fritz told me earlier.’ Dombreux cursed her silently for her familiarity with Lemmer, her trusted status in his eyes, her untouchability. ‘This is awful,’ he said. Trying to make Lemmer understand by the force of his gaze that he was genuinely sorry for him. ‘C’est épouvantable.’

  ‘Thank you for the sentiment,’ said Lemmer. ‘I return to the question. How could Appleby know?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘No? Well, I do. Only Anna knew before today that I had a son. Now you both know also. Why have I told you? In the case of Nadia it was so that I could consider with her the means by which such information could have reached Appleby. Nadia?’

  ‘There was a report I had not previously mentioned to Fritz, Pierre, about a sighting of you a few months ago … in Munich.’

  ‘Munich?’ Dombreux could only play the cards he held now. And none of them were trumps.

  ‘Were you there?’ pressed Lemmer.

  ‘I … don’t think so.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I have taken many journeys. I may have … passed through Munich. What if I did?’

  ‘It is through a lawyer there named Koschnick that I arranged Eugen’s education in Switzerland. Did you visit Koschnick’s offices, perhaps without his knowledge?’

  ‘Non, non. Of course not.’

  ‘But I think someone did, Pierre. I am sure of it. And I must ask: who? And then I must ask: who told Appleby?’

  ‘I have never met Appleby.’

  ‘I believe you. So, someone else told Appleby. But how did that person obtain information about my son?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘No? I think I do. You gave it to them, Pierre. You sold it to them.’

  Quite where the gun had come from Dombreux could not have said. But Nadia was holding it. And she was pointing it at him.

  ‘I ask myself: who could have done this if it was not you? No one. It is true you have never met Appleby. But you have met Max. You killed him, did you not?’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  ‘No. You did not. I looked again at the photograph, Pierre. Something about it always troubled me. But the report from Meadows seemed to confirm your account, so I made nothing of it. But now I see. The photograph was faked. The burned body in the Villa Orseis was not Max. You struck a deal with him. In fact, you bought a deal with him, using my son.’

  Dombreux shook his head. ‘Non. Pas du tout!’

  ‘It is what you did. And I want to know why. I want to know how you came to such an arrangement with him. It was in your interests to kill him. The plan was perfect. What went wrong? How did he defeat you? How did he force you to take his side against me with all the risks you must have known that would entail?’

  ‘I killed Max, as you asked me to. I know nothing of your son.’

  ‘Tell me the truth. Then I may let you live.’

  ‘I have told you the truth.’

  ‘The details of where Eugen Hanckel is being held, Pierre. Give those to me. Then I will see what I can do for you.’

  ‘I know nothing about it.’

  ‘Lie then. Do what you normally do. Invent a story that will win you breathing space. Pretend you know something.’

  Dombreux understood his situation then. He saw it more clearly in Lemmer’s eyes than he heard it in his words. This was the end. This was the maze from which there was no escape.

  Lemmer moved to a side-table, where he had placed a briefcase earlier. He opened it and removed a phial of clear liquid and a syringe. He filled the syringe from the phial and began to walk towards Dombreux. Nadia moved closer to him, keeping the gun trained on his head.

  ‘This is the drug Nadia gave you to use on Max, Pierre. I want to be sure it is as effective as I have been told.’

  ‘Do not move,’ said Nadia. ‘Or I will shoot you.’

  Glancing at her, Dombreux did not doubt she meant it. He glanced back at Lemmer, advancing on him round the shrouded billiards table. He saw the needle of the syringe sparkle in the lamplight. And then he decided what to do.

  He lunged at Nadia and she fired, once, then twice more in quick succession. He slumped to the floor, blood coursing out of him. ‘Quel dommage,’ he murmured weakly, gazing up at her and Lemmer. ‘Vous êtes—’ And then he said no more.

  Lemmer opened the door and signalled for Everett to enter. The Japanese manservant looked as if he had not even heard the shots, but clearly Everett had. ‘What the hell happened?’ he gasped, taking in the scene as the door closed again behind him.

  ‘He guessed I had planned a lingering death for him,’ said Lemmer. ‘He preferred to go quickly. He was a traitor. But he was not a coward.’

  Everett wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Nadia looked at him calmly. She was still holding the gun. ‘Do we have a serious problem, boss?’ he asked Lemmer.

&nb
sp; ‘We may need to move quickly on several fronts. You are ready for that?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Where are Duffy and Monteith?’

  ‘Waiting in the car, down at the gatehouse.’

  ‘One of them warned Miss Hollander she was about to be arrested. I cannot otherwise explain her escape. Which, do you think?’

  ‘Maybe she just got lucky.’ But Lemmer’s cold hard stare told Everett that would not suffice as an answer. ‘Al wouldn’t warn his own mother if there was a rattlesnake in her bed. Howie, on the other hand, has a soft spot for the ladies.’

  ‘Monteith, then?’

  Everett nodded.

  ‘Bring him here.’

  ‘You mean to kill him?’

  ‘No. I mean you to kill him.’

  ‘He’s not working for the other side, boss. If he tipped off Malory, it was just—’ Everett stopped. He read in Lemmer’s eyes the implacability he had only assumed before. Now it was undisguised. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said in an undertone.

  ‘Proceed, then.’

  Everett left the room. A brief silence followed, then Nadia said, ‘Do you want me to begin searching for Max?’

  Lemmer shook his head. ‘No. That will not be necessary. I will send a message to him through Miss Hollander.’

  ‘I am sorry they have found this way to attack you.’

  ‘It is my fault. I should have had a son who died in the war … like Appleby.’

  ‘I do not believe Appleby will kill your son. He is not as hard as you.’

  ‘Perhaps not. I would prefer not to find out. I have sent Koschnick to Lausanne to help Dulière learn what he can. But it’s a long journey from Munich and Appleby will not have left many clues. There is a limit to what I can achieve at this distance. I’ve sent Meadows as well. He will arrive sooner. He isn’t one of our best, I know. But he is the best available.’

  Nadia looked at him in some alarm. ‘Will you give Appleby what he demands?’

  ‘No. I will offer Max what he really wants. Then he will have to choose. And I think I know what his choice will be.’