‘I know where Malcolm is,’ I said. ‘He’s at Monk’s Farm. It came to me a moment ago, when I thought about his letter. You see, the Christmas post was late today, and yet that letter arrived before lunch. The letter also came out of nowhere. Mr Frampton said he found it in the hall, but I came in the front door before him and walked down the hallway. If the letter had been there I would have seen it. Malcolm must have found out we had bought the farm and decided to wait for us there. He was upstairs all the time, and when I arrived he wrote his letter and left it at the front door as if the post had been.’
I could tell by Denis’s face that I was right. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. ‘Have you told Makin?’ he asked. ‘I’ve given my word to Bryant that I’d tell nobody. If they raid the place . . .’
‘I haven’t said a word,’ I said. ‘But I will if you don’t let me come with you. We will go and face Malcolm together, or I’ll tell Makin and he will raid the place.’
For a long, long moment Denis stared at me. I thought he was furious and for a second perhaps he was. And then he smiled and wrapped me in his arms. ‘My wife, the prettiest blackmailer in the business.’
‘Don’t try and sweet-talk me,’ I snapped. ‘I know you too well, Denis. Give me your word that we will go and see Malcolm together.’
Denis sighed and stepped back, to hold me at arm’s length. ‘I’m sure I can talk some sense into him,’ he said, ‘but there is obviously a risk. I really would prefer it if you didn’t come. Look, what about this. I’ll go on ahead. You give me a couple of hours to do my best, and then you tell Makin where we are. That way, if things do go wrong the police can pick him up and no harm will be done.’
I shook my head. ‘No harm done? If Malcolm is going to shoot you, he’ll do it straight away. No, I’m coming with you. Promise me now that we’ll both go together, or I’ll go downstairs immediately and tell Makin what I know.’ To emphasise the point, I walked to our door and stood with my hand on the doorknob.
Denis gave in, and put his arms around me again. ‘Blast Malcolm Bryant!’ he said into my hair. ‘The man really is a pain. I hate the thought of you having to go through all this nonsense, darling. But I don’t want his life on my conscience. You do understand, don’t you?’
I did understand. Perfectly. You see, he had Tanya on his conscience. And Eugene, and Andrei, and Jan, and the girls, and Catherine. And countless unnamed others. He simply didn’t have room for any more.
I changed into a sensible tweed suit and put on my brogues, and then I took the lovely camel-hair overcoat I’d worn on my first day in England and held it up for Denis’s opinion. ‘Wear it,’ he said. ‘It is Christmas Eve, after all.’ I finished off my ensemble with my old felt riding hat, worn at the rakish angle that I liked. It seemed to complete a circle, because I had bought that hat twenty years before, as a callow young girl chasing Denis at the Selangor Riding Club.
Denis put some bullets into his revolver, and slipped it into his coat pocket. ‘Just in case we run into that fat chap in a red suit,’ he said. ‘We can hijack his sack of toys and give the children the best Christmas they have ever had.’ It was a rotten joke, but we clung to each other in the doorway, weak with laughter.
Makin was waiting in the hallway, as I knew he would be, but he only bobbed his head politely and didn’t try to stop us, probably thinking that I was merely going out to say goodbye. Mr Frampton had thoughtfully brought the car around and warmed it up, and we climbed in and slipped away, waving to our guards parked beside St Mary’s.
It was a short run to Monk’s Farm, but Denis made a detour through Blandford to make sure we were not being followed. I appreciated the extra time together. I leaned against him in the warm, leather-scented interior of the Wolseley, and we talked inconsequentially as the newly risen moon raced through the bare winter trees that overhung the road.
‘Do you remember how we used to take Tony for a drive when he was a baby?’ I asked, and Denis chuckled.
‘And how I always managed to get the Alvis to break down in the middle of nowhere?’ he said.
‘And the way we used to sing? How we used to sing! All those lovely, lovely tunes! What’s happened to music these days, darling? It’s all so fast, and so very loud. Or is it just that we’re growing old?’
Denis didn’t answer for a moment. ‘We are growing old, aren’t we?’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure it’s too bad a thing. I’m rather looking forward to sitting by the fire with you when all the children are grown. When we can look back at a life full of safe and happy memories.’
But we were turning in at the driveway to Monk’s Farm, and we stopped our silly chatting and I straightened up in my seat. It was a short but winding driveway that ended in a circle of gravel before the farmhouse door. Denis switched off the engine and we sat for a moment looking at the scene before us. The house itself looked like a pretty toy, its thatched roof silvered by the moon and its mullioned windows glittering in its half-timbered walls. There was a glow from behind the surrounding trees, presumably from the village of Handley about half a mile away, and the faint sound of carols hung on the still night air.
It was absolutely beautiful. We got out and crunched our way to the front door, and I felt suddenly as if it were all quite unreal. As if we were walking into a pretty Christmas card. The fear that had been around me dropped away, leaving me not brave, not even fatalistic, but somehow numb. How could anything this beautiful be associated with danger and death?
A fire had been laid in the low-beamed lounge and while Denis set about coaxing a blaze I tried to shake off my feeling of unreality by busying myself in the kitchen. I brought out cups, and a plate of biscuits, and made a pot of tea. And then we sat on the sofa before the fire, arm in arm, waiting for Malcolm to appear.
At first the waiting was a strain. To the right of the fireplace we could see part of the front hall through the doorway, including the steps leading up to the shadows of the upper floor. I thought Malcolm would be up there, and kept glancing that way until Denis put a hand on mine. ‘He won’t be inside the house,’ he said. ‘He’ll be outside, watching to see if we were followed.’
‘How long will he make us wait?’ I asked.
Denis shrugged. ‘If I were Malcolm, I’d give it half an hour. But I really don’t know. He would have seen that you were with me, so he’s probably trying to work out what that means.’
‘What are you going to say when he does turn up?’ I asked.
‘I’ll tell him the truth. Indoctrinate him, to use the modern terminology. I really don’t know why they haven’t done that already.’
‘Perhaps they think he’s so unstable that it would be a risk to tell him anything.’
We sat on as a clock ticked solidly, and after a while I found my eyes closing with drowsiness and my head drooping against Denis’s shoulder. I must have fallen asleep for a moment because the next thing I knew was that Malcolm was in the room with us, standing by the doorway with a pistol aimed at Denis.
He looked completely mad, his hair like a mop, his eyes staring, and mud and dead leaves plastered down one side of his face and across his shoulder. ‘Why did you bring Nona?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘You gave me your word you would come alone.’
‘Norma is as concerned for you as we all are,’ Denis said calmly. ‘Now be a good fellow and put that gun down. Accidents can happen at times like these.’
Malcolm came into the room and stood in front of the fire, but he kept the gun trained on Denis. I saw that he was trembling violently and the thought resonated through my head like the dread tolling of a bell: this is madness, and somebody is going to die tonight.
‘When are you going to bring in your battleships, Denis?’ Malcolm asked. ‘I’ve been puzzling about that. I know they won’t be far away.’
I sat up straight. ‘There are no battleships,’ I said. ‘Don’t you understand that, Malcolm? There never were. Or if they did exist, they existed only in your mind. Denis
has nobody behind him, and never has. He came here tonight against the wishes of the authorities, and against my own wishes, because he doesn’t want to see you hurt.’
Perhaps what I said got through, because Malcolm’s eyes shifted away from mine. For a second I thought he was going to see sense, but he must have changed his mind because he abruptly braced his feet and thrust the gun towards Denis. ‘Battleships or no battleships, you’ve had your way for far too long. Now I’m going to see how a traitor acts when he’s face to face with death. But not in front of Nona. Get up and walk in front of me towards the door.’
Denis didn’t move. ‘That’s a Walther PPK, isn’t it?’ he asked evenly. ‘Good for target shooting, because it uses a 9 mm bullet. Now, I’ve got a Webley Mark VI in my pocket, aimed straight at you. Not a good target pistol because it’s got a kick like a mule, but at this range you’re hardly a target, are you? If you fire I’ll be badly hurt, but then I’ll fire and you’ll be very much a dead man.’
Malcolm stared at Denis, breathing hard. Even as he stared, Denis drew his service revolver fully from the pocket of his jacket so that it glinted in the firelight. The gun was rock steady, aimed at Malcolm’s heart.
For a heartbeat I thought there would be a double flash, and death, and closed my eyes tight shut. But nothing happened. ‘Don’t die like this, Malcolm,’ Denis said, so kindly that it wrenched my heart. ‘You must clear your name. I know they are persecuting you, trying to drive you mad, because that’s their way. They want to discredit you. But I won’t have that, and I’ve told them so.’
‘You always had a way with words,’ Malcolm said. ‘But I know that it’s a trap. I’ve known that it’s a trap all along. If I put my gun aside, you’ll take me in. More golden wreaths for a golden boy.’
‘That’s not true!’ I said fiercely. ‘Denis stood up for you against Stewart Menzies this afternoon. How else do you think you were able to get through to him on the telephone? And he got them to promise to let him see you alone. I came because I guessed where you were, and blackmailed Denis into bringing me along.’
There was a tense moment of silence, and then Malcolm sighed, a long, ragged sigh like air escaping from a torn balloon. ‘I don’t really believe all that,’ he said. ‘I’d like to, but I can’t. I know how you people operate. Words mean nothing. A promise means even less. I know this is a set-up, and that they’ll descend on us with guns blazing any second now.’
‘If you know this is a set-up, why are you here?’ I asked. ‘Why aren’t you twenty miles away?’
‘Because if I kill Denis my life would have been at least worth something,’ Malcolm said. ‘I was going to shoot him down as soon as he arrived. But you came, Nona, and that changed everything. I’ve been through hell, wondering why. I even thought that things might be on the level.’
‘They are on the level,’ I said softly. ‘I promise you.’
Denis stood up slowly. His gun was still on Malcolm but he smiled and held out a hand. ‘I give my word this isn’t a trap. Give me your weapon and I’ll put mine away too. And then we can start sorting out this mess.’
‘If I give you my gun, you’ve won again, haven’t you?’ Malcolm said. ‘I’ll be in your power. And when they come – and I’m sure they will come – I’ll be unarmed.’
‘They won’t come,’ Denis said. ‘But if they do, I’ll gladly hand your weapon back because that would be treachery.’
Malcolm stared at Denis, and then at me, and then reversed his automatic and handed it across. ‘I’m going to trust you,’ he said. ‘Even though I know that I’ll regret it.’
He stood there, trying to smooth his hair with his hand, looking suddenly pale and vulnerable. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Nona,’ he said, turning to me. ‘I don’t know if I would have shot Denis or not. It’s just that it’s been all so damned unfair. I’ve got all the evidence of treachery that you could ever want, but nobody will listen to me. I was at the end of my tether.’
I took him into the kitchen and wiped the mud from his face and shoulder, and he stood at the basin like a child being washed. Then I dug out my comb from my bag and handed it to him. ‘Do something about your hair while I warm up the tea, and then we’ll talk. Denis isn’t a traitor, I promise you that. He wants to explain everything to you. Once you know the truth, you will understand.’
It was the strangest indoctrination conference imaginable. We sat around the open fire, mugs of tea in our hands, while Denis told Malcolm all about the Ultra business, and then about Operation Maugham. Malcolm asked questions, but what Denis said was the simple, transparent truth, and eventually Malcolm sat with his head slumped in his hands.
‘Why didn’t they tell me?’ he asked. ‘Why set me looking for something if they knew there was nothing there to find?’
‘The Secret Service is not like the police force,’ Denis said gently. ‘Nobody shares information, so that we’re always treading on someone else’s tail. You’re not the first in MI5 to unearth something that’s so secret that not even your own D-G knows about it.’
‘But I bet I’m the first not to be indoctrinated as soon as I stumble on something. It’s because they think I’m crackers, I suppose. Mentally unstable.’ He suddenly straightened his shoulders and looked me in the eye. ‘Do I seem such a fruitcake to you, Nona?’
‘Norma,’ I corrected automatically. ‘I think they have treated you badly, but I think I understand why. You are a dangerous man, Malcolm. Or at least you seem a dangerous man. It’s . . . just something about you. The quickness of your moods. The rapid, determined way you move. I’ve even felt afraid of you myself at times. You must learn to relax a bit, become a bit more of a tabby cat than a tiger.’
Malcolm laughed, a healthy, normal laugh. ‘I’ll never be a tabby cat, Norma. But perhaps I can learn to relax a bit. I think I’ve been different since my breakdown in Malaya. I try all the time to be crisp and positive, so that people don’t know how unsure I am inside.’
It was getting late and we began to talk about practicalities. ‘You will have to come away with us tonight,’ Denis said. ‘I’d like to keep you at the Manor overnight, but I don’t think they’ll let me. The police will want to take you in. But I’ll get on to my solicitors first thing tomorrow and get them to arrange for a bail application as soon as possible. With a bit of luck we’ll have you home for Christmas supper.’
‘There has been nothing in the papers,’ I said. ‘If nobody knows what Malcolm’s supposed to have done, can’t we have it all hushed up?’
‘There’s been nothing in the papers because they would have issued a D notice,’ Denis said. ‘But there must be a warrant out, or they wouldn’t have had Special Branch on the job.’
‘I don’t mind a night or two in goal,’ Malcolm said quietly. ‘As long as I know that the truth will come out in the end. After all, I was only doing my job. No doubt they’ll try and throw the book at me for photographing the file, but I’ll tell them that I didn’t know who to trust and needed some insurance.’
‘Which is the simple truth,’ Denis said. ‘I really don’t think you should worry too much about keeping some photographs. After all, you didn’t try to pass them on to anyone.’
We decided to drive Malcolm to the police station in Bournemouth, and all three of us shook on it like old friends agreeing to a social occasion. We were moving towards the front door when I heard a faint beating sound. At first it was no more than a vibration in the air, but it increased quickly so that we all stopped and looked at each other in puzzlement. Then suddenly it was a huge sound, shaking the house, and bright lights sprang into existence, moving and changing outside the windows.
‘Helicopters!’ Malcolm said. Then he turned to Denis. ‘You tricked me. You kept me here until you could get your battleships to seal me off.’ Then he looked at me, his face wrenched with pain. ‘I’ll never learn, will I?’
‘We didn’t give you away,’ I said desperately. ‘They must have worked out where you were themselves, fro
m the letter. After all, I did.’
Malcolm wasn’t listening. He dragged aside the curtain. One helicopter had already landed on the gravel turning circle and a second was circling around the side of the house, its searchlight playing on the back garden. ‘A rat in a trap,’ he said. ‘A damned stupid rat that should have known better.’
‘They gave me their word,’ Denis said. He had to shout, because the noise was deafening. ‘It was on the basis of their word that I gave you mine. I promise you, Malcolm, that I didn’t know this would happen.’
There were men pouring out of the helicopter, soldiers in full battle kit, and they fanned out across the front garden. A third helicopter was coming down behind the trees, its lights turning night into day.
‘You promised you’d give me my gun back if this proved a trap,’ Malcolm said. ‘Are you going to stick to your word, or was it just the normal, standard lie?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Denis shouted. ‘If you have a gun in your hand they’ll shoot you down. Stick close to us and they can do nothing.’
Malcolm drew himself up stiff and straight and held out his hand. ‘I gave you my gun because you promised to give it back if this turned out to be a trap. If you keep your word I’ll surrender quietly. If you don’t, I’ll know it was all a trick and I’ll make a break for it. I’d have nothing to lose.’
There was a burst of noise as another helicopter descended on the house, its searchlight raking the windows so that we were half blinded. In the mad glare I saw Denis stand up too. He took Malcolm’s gun from his pocket and handed it across. ‘As a pledge, Malcolm . . .’ he began, but Malcolm immediately reversed the gun and fired. The bullet caught Denis low and in the middle of the chest, flinging him back so that he crashed against the settee and slumped to the floor.
It happened so fast that it seemed to me that time itself had been abridged. No time to speak, or move, or even think.
I knelt by Denis’s side and lifted his face. He was conscious and gave me a smile, lopsided but real. Malcolm had dropped on his knees beside us, his face stricken. ‘I thought it was another trick,’ he said. ‘I thought he must have unloaded it.’ Then his voice changed, became a parody: ‘You’re all right, Denis, aren’t you, old man?’
In the Mouth of the Tiger Page 99
