by John Creasey
‘That man!’ snarled Rogerson. ‘He—and Loftus …’
She laughed.
‘Loftus and the others, what few there are left, are at his flat. They found Davidson, and he’ll have told them about Fay Loring. They will not be pleased.’
‘They shall be the first—the very first!’ said Rogerson viciously, ‘to know what the new order is like! So still the decision is postponed …!’
He broke off and stood up abruptly, his gnarled fists clenched and shaking, his body trembling.
‘We will not delay!’ We shall start Operation D at once—we shall destroy the one thing on which they might depend! We shall send word now, to the men who are waiting!’
He pushed his chair away, and swung round.
Behind him, built into the wall of that innocent-looking house at Barnes, was a radio-transmitting station of a wavelength known only to the League of the Hundred-and-One. He had not used it for the ultimatum—for then the chance of an effective police raid had been high.
Now, it was a negligible risk.
He pressed a bell, and within ten seconds a man had responded.
‘Get all stations!’ snapped Rogerson. ‘Get them at once!’
Myra was watching him, tense and expectant.
Tiarney looked as though he wanted to interrupt, but dared not. Campbell sat like a figure carved from stone.
Operation D …
The whole of the Government’s stores of armaments, to be destroyed. Lives lost by the thousand in the explosion that would have to come. Sabotage on a scale never before conceived. Bloodshed beyond compare …
And a defenceless country.
Defenceless!
* * *
A voice from Berlin reached the ears of a man in Rome.
‘Yes, yes, I have heard of the insolence from America! Insolence beyond endurance! But if the Operation D is carried out, in England, we begin at once—and before the fools in Washington can hope to interfere, we shall have conquered. And then—then they dare not interfere!’
A voice from Rome said:
‘And Russia?’
‘There is no need to fear. With the collapse of Great Britain, the whole Peace Bloc will be forgotten. Turkey, Greece, Rumania, Poland—they will make terms: they will not rely on France or Russia. And then, when we have them …’ He stopped, as though he had said too much. ‘If Operation D is put into action, then we strike!’
‘Let it be so,’ said the voice from Rome.
* * *
‘Caution,’ warned Loftus, lightly, ‘is the watchword. Myra’s inside, bless her little heart, so we’ll have something of a bag. The gentry who brought Fay are probably still here, and …’
‘We might get a few big fish,’ supplied Thornton.
‘We’ve got to!’ snapped Diana.
‘Nothing’s impossible—if they’re here,’ said Dodo Trale.
They had arrived near the house in Barnes twenty minutes before. They had driven past and seen three men standing near it, obviously on guard. There might, for all they knew, be others. They had no idea of the number of men who would be inside, either, but they were reasonably sure the odds would be heavy.
Craigie, of course, would get men here as soon as possible.
So would Miller.
A company of Regular Army, or Militia, would be enough to turn the scales. But they dared not wait.
‘Well,’ said Loftus, as they reached a spot a hundred yards from the house, ‘Di will go straight to the front door, pitch a story about being stranded, and ask for assistance. We three will approach from different sides, and see how many guards worry about Di. It’s reasonably certain that all the beggars will look her way, and then …’
The others nodded.
Loftus smiled, and pressed Diana’s arm.
He knew, as they all knew, that she might be walking to her death. It was possible that the guards had orders to let no one approach, and it was likely that, if she did get close, she would be recognised. But there was no argument: a woman was the more likely to get through.
As she went quickly along the road, Bill Loftus tightened his lips and moved towards the vantage point he had selected.
Dodo and Thornton silently followed suit and they closed on the house from three directions, each with his hand in his pocket about a gun.
They could see Diana clearly, for it was a brilliant, moonlit night.
They saw one man look towards her, as she opened the gate. Then they saw the other two moving towards her, and they moved very fast.
Loftus got near enough to hear Diana say:
‘But I tell you …’
‘Never mind what you tell me—clear out!’ a truculent little roughneck told her, and Diana hesitated. She sensed how near Loftus and the others were, knew she had to keep the guards’ attention for thirty seconds more, at least.
Loftus, in the shadows of a high hedge, was advancing on tip-toe.
It was the one chance, and the last chance, of doing something to stop Rogerson and the League. It might be a useless effort, the house might not prove to be the headquarters, but at least it had to be tried.
Loftus did not know that the wireless operator had just entered the room.
He did not know that in a matter of minutes, the fatal order for the destruction of all stores of Army and Navy armaments in the country, would be going out.
He did not know of the watching eyes in Berlin and Rome.
He went forward swiftly, as the truculent little man put a hand on Diana’s shoulder and swung her round.
24
Shocks
Loftus was twenty yards away.
The gun he was holding had a silencer, but the night was quiet and clear, the sound would reach the other guards, and the flame might be seen. He moved very fast. As Diana staggered backwards under the impetus from the truculent one, Loftus jumped!
He knew the two watching guards must see him as he leapt from the shadows, but he had waited until the absolute last moment. A shot from a silenced gun hummed out, and a bullet passed his head as he crashed into his man and sent him sprawling.
At the same moment, Thornton and Dodo went for their quarries. As the three pairs of struggling, fighting men rolled on the ground, a breathless Diana peered through the darkness for signs of other guards.
None appeared.
The man Loftus had tackled was as slippery as an eel. As he managed to wriggle free, a gun suddenly appeared in his right hand, Loftus kicked upwards …
He caught his man’s elbow, and leapt forward again. The other, off-balance, could not evade that mighty left swing. Fist and chin connected, and there was a crack!
Sharp, clear, sickening.
The man’s head was at an odd angle as he hit the ground, and Loftus knew he had broken the neck. But the knowledge only filled him with a fierce exhilaration. In the spilt-second he allowed himself to look around, he saw the others fighting and knew that any fourth guard would have put in an appearance by now.
‘Give ’em a hand,’ he snapped to Diana, and made for the front door.
It was shut, of course, and probably bolted, but next to it was a long window, the heavy curtains drawn across. Praying that no one inside the house would hear the scuffling behind him, Loftus took out a small diamond glass-cutter and expertly cut out a circle near the latch. Then taking a piece of adhesive tape from his pocket, he stuck one end across the top of the circle, to keep the glass from falling, and knocked the circular piece out with a quiet tap. Then, slipping his hand through the hole, he found the catch.
The window went up.
Not slowly—for the squeaking would be worse. Just one swift movement, one sharp noise, and it was wide enough for him to get through.
He heard a footfall behind him; a whispered:
‘Right, Bill.’
Trale had got past his man …
Carefully, Loftus pushed the curtain aside: there was no one in the hall. He was through the window in a moment, followed by
Trale, and they made no sound on the thick carpet. They hesitated a split-second, then Loftus moved towards one of the three doors opening off the hall.
‘Try one of the others, Dodo.’
His whisper sounded loud enough to wake the dead. But no other sound came as they opened each door in turn, to find that the rooms were empty and in darkness. On the left there was a glass-topped door, obviously communicating with the servants’ quarters.
He hesitated again, for he had no idea of the call that was going out from the room above.
Then a high-pitched, maniacal laugh came sharply, from somewhere upstairs.
‘Come on!’ snapped Loftus, already racing up the stairs.
They reached the first landing. Voices were coming from a room ahead of them: one high-pitched, the other gruff.
‘Get them—get them at once, I tell you! The call must go out!’
‘There’s a lot of interference.’
‘Get them, I said!’
‘Second door on the right, Dodo,’ Loftus whispered. ‘I’ll …’
He stopped, and Dodo stopped with him.
Despite the urgency of the moment. Despite its implient horror, both men’s faces were suddenly alight with relief.
For a door had opened—and Fay Loring came through it.
She started, violently. Her clothes and face still showed traces of the smuts which had fallen from the burning Regal. But she was as free as the air.
‘B-Bill! I …’
‘How’d you get clear?’ demanded Dodo. ‘We thought …’
‘Look out!’ snapped Loftus, as sudden realisation hit him.
But Fay had her own gun out before he could get to his. She stood there, covering them both with it as Dodo gaped.
Loftus eyed her calmly, his expression unfathomable.
Fay said, very softly:
‘Keep right where you are! I don’t want to shoot, but …’
‘So,’ Loftus murmured, ‘you were with them.’
Fay nodded, watching them lynx-eyed. While Dodo realised with sickening certainty what Loftus had already guessed—just how those leakages of information had been managed.
Loftus himself was bitterly recognising that both he and Craigie had been cleverly deceived, by a girl they had both judged to be with them one hundred-percent …
The girl who now held their lives in her hands.
* * *
But for Diana, who had used the butt of her gun to good effect, Spats Thornton would have been dead. As it was, he was unconscious and with an ugly wound in the side of his head. She had been tempted to stay with him, but she had seen Loftus disappear inside, and if there was need for action in the house, she had to follow.
Racing to the open window, she slipped through. Then as she hesitated, she heard a whispered:
‘Keep right where you are! I don’t want to shoot, but …’
Fay’s voice!
She heard Bill answer, but did not catch the words. She could hardly believe she had heard aright—that Fay was with the League. But sickened, she knew it was so: knew how much it explained. That night Fay had stopped Mark Errol from working on Lore—probably from fear that he would learn too much. And this was the girl who had shared her flat …
A wave of physical nausea swept over her, but she fought it down. With ice-cold precision she moved to the stairs and mounted them silently.
‘Well, we get all kinds of shocks,’ she heard Loftus drawl. ‘But this really takes the cake. It’s probably too late to matter, now, so just as a matter of interest—what is it that someone—Rogerson, I fancy—must get, so urgently?’
Fay shrugged.
‘He’s sending instructions for Operation D.’
‘Being?’ Loftus invited.
‘Oh, a quick stroke to paralyse the land and air forces. Don’t worry, Bill, it’s as good as over, and …’
‘You little vixen! I’ve a …’
‘Stop there!’
And then Diana appeared.
She saw then, as she moved: Bill, about to go forward, his back towards her. Dodo standing like a man in a trance, Fay with her index finger on the trigger.
Diana fired.
The bullet, aimed at the gun, hit Fay’s forearm. The only sounds were the soft ‘snap’ of the silencer, and Fay’s gasp as her gun fell noiselessly on the heavy carpet. Loftus leapt, without looking round, towards the door from which the voices were coming. Dodo waited long enough to hit Fay Loring, sharply, scientifically, so that she made no sound. It was not pleasant, but she went right out.
Then he followed Loftus.
In that moment, Loftus merged haste with caution. He had turned the handle carefully, to make sure that the door was not locked. He heard Rogerson’s voice saying:
‘You have? Good! Give me …’
Then Loftus flung the door open.
He went through, with Dodo, like a tornado, and he saw everything vividly. Rogerson by the transmitter, taking the headphones from the operator. Frazer-Campbell and Tiarney on their feet swinging round towards the door. Myra, her eyes blazing, moving towards her handbag.
Loftus cleared the table between himself and Rogerson in a single leap. His outstretched hand snatched the earphones from the old man’s grasp. Then he jerked the lead from its socket and sent the operator crashing back against the transmitter—and heard the tinkling of breaking valves.
Madness was in him.
He saw Rogerson’s feverish eyes a foot from his own and he hit the old man, savagely. As Rogerson gasped, aware only of pain, Loftus grabbed him by the waist and lifted him high.
Myra’s voice came, tense with hatred, ‘Hurt him and I’ll blow the place to pieces!’
She was standing by the wall, and her hand was resting on a small lever which seemed to magnify as Loftus stared at it.
* * *
There was silence in the room, now.
The transmitting set was temporarily out of action. Tiarney and Frazer-Campbell were backed against the far wall, both frightened out of their lives. The operator was on the floor, his eyes closed.
At the door, stood Dodo and Diana.
And all eyes were on Myra Clayton.
Her amber eyes glowed, and she was crouching a little, like a panther about to spring.
‘I mean it!’ she said. ‘If I push this down, the house and everything in it goes up. We didn’t mean to leave anything here for you, if you did get through, Loftus! Let-him-down.’
Loftus hesitated—and then obeyed.
Through his mind was running a refrain:
Operation D’s postponed! Operation D’s postponed!
But for the moment, the woman by the lever had control. He knew enough about the thoroughness of the League to believe that she was telling the truth. She could blow them sky-high, if she chose. And she would choose, unless he obeyed her.
He had to play for time.
There would be other places, besides this house. Other means of getting the order for Operation D to those concerned. That had to be stopped. For the first time, they had come within an ace of success. Rogerson was here, obviously the leader. Tiarney and Frazer-Campbell, too.
The big fish … Loftus dared not make a mistake, now.
He put Rogerson into a chair, and the man gasped as he lay back, with blood coming from his mouth. Diana and Trale stood unmoving, by the door, equally helpless to act.
Myra had her hand on the lever: no matter what happened, she would have the strength to pull that down.
Loftus said easily:
‘Check-mate, it seems!’
There were others, he reminded himself again. Others who might be able to take over, even if he finished Rogerson and Myra. And Craigie would be here soon, with enough men to take over the house.
But if they were heard approaching, Myra would act. The thoughts flashed through his mind, as his eyes met hers.
‘Check-mate,’ she agreed, and her lips curled. ‘You’re stuck, Loftus. How the devil you got here, is beyond m
e …’
‘Oh, I know lots of things,’ he told her, lightly. ‘How Operation D will work, for instance, and stop supplies for the Navy and Air Force.’
Myra started.
‘You know …!’
‘That, and more,’ Loftus assured her. ‘How the Luxa went downstream, with Letty and Mike Errol on board, and probably Neil Clarke, the amiable stockbroker. How Anson and Nebton have managed to get control of the Association. Yes, I should like to interview those gentlemen …’
Myra sneered:
‘You damned fool, they were fighting against us! They knew someone was aiming to get control—knew someone was hiding armaments, and guessed there was a big reason. They fought us all they could, but they didn’t realise it was something more than an effort to corner the arms market. You think you know a lot, Loftus! We got hold of Nebton when we knew he wouldn’t come with us—you’ll find his body in the river! He didn’t know his second-in-command was our leader! We nearly got Anson, but we made sure of him tonight. Your beautiful Fay caught Lore for us, also tonight—he’s here: alive, but only just. Those three wouldn’t work with us, Loftus, the only three.’
Loftus said, very gently:
‘Thanks. I always liked Anson. Well, my pet, what next? You can blow yourself and Rogerson sky-high, with us—if you’re so minded. You’ll hardly expect me to come to terms …’
‘You’ll come to terms!’ snapped Myra. ‘London’s empty—burning—waterless! There’s no electricity—there won’t be food, for more than a week! Every road is crammed with refugees, every railway station’s besieged. We’ve a hundred thousand men we can arm! You’ll come to terms—for if you don’t you’ll die here with us! And Clarke will give the orders, Clarke will take over from Rogerson. It’s all arranged—it will be messier than Operation D, but that’s all. Easy, isn’t it?’
Loftus took a deep breath.
‘It looks that way. Isn’t life worth anything to you?’
‘If I let you get away, how long will I live? Long enough to be hanged! I …’
She stopped as a new voice came, from the door. Carruthers’ voice!
