by James White
Nick lit a cigarette and watched the man. He stared straight ahead at the band, but he wasn’t actually watching them. Every so often he would look at his watch and cast his eyes around. The Brigadier was clearly expecting someone. Nick looked around the rest of the room, but could see no one notable, then the heavy curtains beside the rear of the stage parted and a woman slipped out. As much as a woman like that could slip out, she still made an entrance. A sequin-covered, scarlet, off-the-shoulder dress gripped her every curve and long black hair fell in waves down her back; she had perfect olive skin, high cheekbones and a full mouth highlighted with a gloss in the same scarlet shade as her dress. Everyone looked at her as she stepped into the club. They couldn’t not. The Italian looked particularly excited until the German gave him a disapproving look. People turned back to their drinks and she glided over to the two foreign men, a slight smile playing on her lips. She bent over their table and their three heads came together. The Italian gave it away, a slight flick of the hand towards the army man behind them. She didn’t turn round but stood upright, smiled at them, said something more, then floated across the club to the Brigadier. Nick notice she locked her eyes on the man as she approached, she smouldered and he was like prey in headlights. Nick looked back at the two men and noted that they were observing the scene from the corners of their eyes. Perhaps if his luck carried on playing out like this he could get the whole thing mopped up tonight.
The Brigadier was grinning like a child receiving an ice cream as the scarlet-clad woman slid into a seat next to him and leaned close. They spoke animatedly. Nick noticed how the woman cocked her head and flicked her hair as she spoke. She was good; soon the man was beckoning a waiter and a bottle of champagne was at the table. It seemed the Brigadier was both flush and flash – probably old money, judging by the quality of his suit and his largesse with the champagne.
Nick noticed the wedding ring. He turned his attention back to the two foreign men. They’d fallen into what looked an uneasy silence as if waiting for something. The blonde man tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. The Scotch wasn’t going down well so Nick grabbed a martini and weighed his options. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to learn a lot by simply observing. Speaking to the Brigadier or the two other men would put them on their guard and possibly put Nick himself in danger, and he wasn’t convinced he’d learn a lot either. Maybe he already had enough to go back to Carruthers with?
Just as he was sifting through his course of action, the Brigadier somewhat clumsily stood and excused himself, heading to the bathroom. The woman sipped her champagne and watched the old man negotiate the dance floor, then shot a glance to her left. The Italian was waving her over. It was too good a chance to miss. She set down her glass and made to stand.
“Good evening,” Nick smiled at her, standing close enough to effectively block her from standing. “Mind if I join you?”
Her look of surprise gave way to a well-practiced smile and now he was this close, Nick could see her eyes glowed amber like golden honey. She was breath-taking.
“I’m sorry, but I’m with–”
“I wasn’t asking.” Nick’s smile was still in place, but it conveyed an underlying self-assurance as he pulled the other chair round to box her in and sat down. He could sense rather than see the men tense behind him. She shot them a glance then flicked her eyes back to Nick and smiled sweetly.
“But of course, but perhaps another time.” She patted him on the knee and he saw her eyes drift past his head momentarily. He wondered how long the old man would be in the bathroom. She smelt of exotic spices and Mediterranean sunsets.
“May I at least know your name?”
“Lucia, and yours?”
“I’m Nick. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Pleased to meet you, Nick. I’m new. I only started here the other week.”
“Spain’s loss is our gain,” smiled Nick.
“Actually I’m from Argentina, but you were close with placing my accent. Now if you’ll excuse me, Nick?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to impinge on the Brigadier’s lady.”
She arched an eyebrow to cover her surprise.
“You know him?”
“Of him. I work in one of the Ministry’s, hush hush stuff. I’ve seen him about, his names on documents, mainly the ones we prepare.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer.
“That sounds interesting. What is it you do exactly?”
Nick noticed her impatience for him to leave seemed to have been forgotten.
“Planning, inventions, that sort of thing. Can’t really talk about it.” He was fishing and the fish was biting. Her hand casually brushed his knee, producing a shiver.
“Really? How fascinating. I would love to learn more. I don’t think I caught your last name.”
“I didn’t give it you.” Nick stood, moving the chair away just as the old man tottered back. He felt the eyes of the other two men on him as he moved back the bar. He’d acted on the spur of the martini, felt a sudden urge to see this woman up close, see her eyes, smell her scent. It hadn’t got him anywhere, except to leave him with a desire to do it again.
He was going to have to be smarter about this if he was going to get anywhere. Nick sat back by the bar and waited. The trouble was, Nick wasn’t a very patient man, so when he caught the blonde-haired German staring at him, Nick stared right back until the man looked away. Nick made a decision: he would have to force things along.
After a short time, Lucia excused herself and swayed backstage, pausing to whisper something to the German, something that made him look sharply at Nick. Nick nodded back and stood. The German man looked alarmed for a second, but Nick veered away and instead, sat by the old officer.
“Good evening,” Nick said, sitting down in Lucia’s still-warm seat.
A flicker of surprise followed by annoyance flickered over the old man’s face. “I say…” he began, blustering in an outraged tone.
“You’ll say nothing, Brigadier…?”
“Soames, and its Brigadier General to you, sir. Who may you be?”
“My name is unimportant. I’ve been sent by Special Branch to shadow you, sir.”
“What? This is an outrage!” the man exclaimed, beginning to crane his head this way and that.
“Quite possibly, sir. I’m sorry for the rather direct approach, but shortly before coming here I was appraised of some rather bad news that I thought you might want to know.”
“Bad news? What, can’t this wait until office hours?”
“I’m afraid not. You may be in danger yourself.” Nick overstressed the anxiety in his tone, conspiratorially leaning closer, a look of anguish on his face. “You were acquainted with a Julia Cortez?” He saw the look of confusion on the man’s face. “You may have known her as Ramona?”
The Brigadier flushed from his collar up and swallowed heavily. Nick continued quickly. He wasn’t sure how much time he had.
“I regret to tell you that she was found murdered this morning, sir. I am very sorry.”
The Brigadier went from flushed to pale, his hands began to shake.
“What? How?” His bluster had gone and he looked like what he was – a shaken old man.
“I’m very sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but until we know why Ramona was killed and by whom, I think it would be best if you stayed at home.”
“Yes, of course,” the man muttered. Nick could feel the German’s and Italian’s eyes boring into the back of his head. The Brigadier appeared in shock, his eyes were glaze and for a moment Nick worried the old guy might break down there and then, but the spark came back to his eyes and his head jerked up to look at Nick.
“Special Branch? Then you know about Ramona and I? People know?” He looked horrified.
Nick nodded slowly. “There is a small team of us, detailed to look out for high value personnel such as yourself. We were aware of your relationship with Ramona, but, sir, I can assure you
that this information stays within our team. It’s not in our remit to report it.”
The Brigadier looked relieved.
“Unless national security may be at threat.” Nick let that hang and was satisfied to see the pallor return to the man’s face. He pushed on while he held the advantage and the man was still reeling. “We know about the relationship; if you could answer a few questions it would remove the need for us to take this any further and we could of course strike you out as a suspect.”
The Brigadier paled further still. “My God, I’ll be ruined,” he stammered.
“Sir, I can keep this out of any reports and you out the frame, but I will need some details. How long had you been seeing Ramona?”
“I … about three months I think.”
“You met her here?”
“Yes,” he stammered.
“How did you come to be at The Blue Rose yourself?”
“Some chaps, mentioned it to me, got me curious. I only came down to see what the scene was like these days, you understand. I’m an old chap; I wondered what the bars and clubs were like these days. I never meant…”
“Of course. I understand, sir. What chaps?”
“What?”
“Who recommended it to you?”
The Brigadier flushed and hesitated. “Actually, some damn foreigners. I should have known better. It was some trade delegation dinner; some awful Italian fellow was lathering on about it.”
Nick nodded as if this was unimportant and moved on.
“So you came here and you met Ramona straight away. How often did you see her?”
“Not much at first; once a week.” He stopped and swallowed heavily. “My God, my wife. I’m sorry, I can’t–”
“Sir, better we clear this up now. Your wife need never know from us if there’s not a fuss.”
“Of course. We started seeing each other more often. Dinner, shopping. I’ve been a damned old fool!” he suddenly exclaimed angrily, banging the table.
“Not at all. Ramona was a very attractive woman. One can see the attraction.” Nick glanced quickly around. The German and the Italian were muttering darkly, shooting evil glances in his direction. He wouldn’t have long. He kept one eye on the backstage curtain.
“Where else did you see her?”
“A month ago, I hired an apartment for us, started staying there a couple of nights a week, told the wife I was working overnight at the Ministry.” The man looked shamefaced. As well he might, shacked up with a young Spanish senorita while his wife was sat at home thinking he was working all hours for the good of the country.
“What’s the address?”
“It’s on Conway Street, on the corner, fifteen, ground floor,” he mumbled.
Nick nodded. It was close to here. Nice and convenient for the Brigadier for after the club.
“Did Ramona ever ask you about your work?”
“What are you suggesting? She was a sweet, innocent girl.”
“Nothing at all. I just have to cover off certain possibilities. You do work related to the War Office do you not?” Nick chanced his arm. He didn’t know this at all, but he’d guessed it and fished for it with Lucia. He saw he may have overplayed, though; the older man’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Nick more closely.
“I thought you said you were Special Branch? Surely you know what I do, Mr…?”
“Carruthers,” Nick replied. That would stir things up a bit. Carruthers wasn’t SB; he would be M11, but they’d all be confused. “Our brief is to watch out for you. We’re not privy to what you do, but it may have a bearing.”
The Brigadier nodded. “Yes, of course. Yes, I work for the War Office, planning and scenarios, new weapon development, all secret stuff, but Ramona didn’t know that. I was very obtuse. I’m not a complete fool.”
No, not a complete one, thought Nick. Instead, he asked, “Did she ever come to your office or your house where she could have seen anything she shouldn’t?”
“Certainly not! I object to that! I…” Then he stopped. “My God,” he said slowly.
“What?” Nick demanded urgently. He saw the German man stick his head behind the curtains. It was a clear breech of club protocol, but somehow Nick didn’t think that would matter to the German.
“In the last few weeks, my wife’s been away, I…” He hung his head. “I had Ramona round to the house a few times.”
“Could she have seen anything there she shouldn’t have? In your study? An office at home?” Nick enquired urgently.
“No! I don’t know. I mean, there was some stuff at home, but why would she be interested?”
“Could she have seen it and what could she have seen?” Nick wanted to shake the man.
“I suppose. There were plans, strategies, some schematics, a few things.” He trailed off as if the enormity of it hit him for the first time.
“You had top secret documents at home, in the open?” Nick asked incredulously.
“An Englishman’s house is his castle. They were safe. I’m sure neither she nor anyone else saw anything,” he said with an arrogant air of finality.
“Yet she’s dead,” Nick said tiredly, his patience expended, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “For God’s sake, man, what could she have had or seen that she would be killed for?”
“A few things. I need to go and check, I…”
Nick had stopped listening, the curtain had swished open and Lucia and the German were glaring at him.
“I’ll be in touch. Go! Now!” Nick pulled the man to his feet and propelled him towards the exit. “For God’s sake, go, as fast as you can!”
The confused Brigadier blundered out towards the stairs and Nick whirled in time to intercept the pursuing Lucia. She was practically running down the floor of the club, one hand raised to stop the Brigadier. As he turned, Nick caught her hand and swept her backwards. On heels with Nick’s body cannoning into her, she lost her footing. Nick’s other hand slipped round the small of her back and caught her, holding her upright and sweeping her through one hundred and eighty degrees and back towards the rear of the club before she even registered what was happening. There was a cheer and another couple got up and began to dance alongside them, then another and another. Only Nick and Lucia weren’t dancing; she was desperately trying to pull away as he expertly manoeuvred her around the floor holding her tightly to him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed in his ear. “Let me go!” She tried to pull her leading hand free of his but to no avail. He held her in a vice-like grip as the tiny dance floor started to fill with more swaying couples. Nick saw the German and Italian start to try and push their way through. He was suddenly aware of the soft heat of her body pressed against his. As she squirmed violently against him, Nick was surprised at how strong she was and could feel the lithe strength in her torso. Her amber eyes flashed in anger. Nick smiled.
“This is nice.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Dancing?” He manoeuvred her so that her back was to the two advancing men.
His heart sunk. Clara had come through the curtains and was glaring at him, at the pair of them. He felt a pang of guilt. It couldn’t look good. The German was nearly level with him. He gave a grimace of pain; Lucia had just kicked his shin hard. He let her go and moved sideways into the German with a bang.
“Oh, I am sorry!” he exclaimed, catching hold of the man. “Must have had a bit to drink.”
“Get off me!” exclaimed the man angrily, roughly trying to disentangle himself from Nick. Lucia now started to try and pull him away and back to her. He was glad of the other dancers or the three of them would have looked ridiculous. Nick trying to block the German’s path, Lucia having just pushed him away, attempting to pull him back, and the German struggling with them both now. Nick looked around desperately for the little Italian but could see him nowhere. As he bumped against the German again, he felt a hard shape under the man’s jacket. He just hoped that the Brigadier had jump
ed straight into a cab. He’d lost his concentration and the German cursed and gave a push that sent Nick flying heavily back into the arms of Lucia. Their bodies collided hard and Nick felt a shudder of delight as it became her turn to hold him tight. The German pushed past and was gone.
“So you want to dance?” Lucia smiled at him. At last, those full red lips, so full of promise, so close, smiled, the eyes flashed with Latin anger. She had a leg hooked around his, her arm in the small of his back, pulling him hard into her curves, her scent swam in his senses and for a moment he was lost as they swayed together.
There was a sharp tug on his arm and Lucia released him; he spun and faced the cold stare of Clara. She looked at Lucia, already melting into the crowd, then at Nick, and shook her head slowly, fire dancing under the blue ice of her eyes. He knew what was coming even before her hand went up. The slap stung across his face. Seeing her walk away hurt stung him more. Nick stood for a moment and looked around. The people swayed and danced joyously around him, oblivious. Of the German, the Italian and Lucia there was no sign. He looked back at the swaying curtain where Clara had just disappeared and gave a sigh. He knew better than to try to talk to her tonight.
He slowly mounted the stairs and picking up his hat and coat, headed outside into the cold blanket of fog that had thickened into a murky soup. He shrugged up his collar and started to walk. The Brigadier’s love nest on Conway Street was not far away at all.
CHAPTER 4
The damp seeped through the greatcoat like a lover’s cold embrace and by the time Nick skirted up Bolsover Street, along the deserted roads, his body had started to tremble with the beginnings of a shiver. The fog had thickened into the consistency of gruel, restricting his vision to a few feet of dark murk. The cold stung his lungs, each breath causing his chest to protest with a rasping pain. The time had slipped well past one while he’d been in the club and apart from the sound of the odd automobile in the distance, it was strangely silent save for the echo of his own footsteps. The further north he pushed, the darker it got, as the pale gas lamps became less frequent, until he was steering his way almost by instinct rather than by anything he could see.
