Fitzrovia Twilight (Nick Valentine Book 1)

by James White

  “When the sun came up, not twenty feet from the German’s front trench, was the sniper’s rifle, upright with the barrel stuck down in the mud. I stuck his head on top, facing his own lines.”

  There was a moment’s stunned silence. Nick reached for the door handle and the heavy actually recoiled from him.

  Nick turned to Richardson, “So, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Nick opened the door and hopped out.

  Richardson looked very worried indeed.

  He’d seen more of The Blue Rose in the last three days than he had done in weeks, and that hadn’t proved to be a cause for celebration. Nick negotiated the stairs wearily, lighting a cigarette as he slipped down into the dark embrace of the club. He had the pictures, but he’d lost the woman he loved and killed three men in one night. He ordered two martinis with a twist and finished the first in one gulp then he sat at the bar sipping the next. He stared at the blurred reflection of himself in the bottle-crowded mirror behind the bar, looking right through his own somehow unfamiliar image into nothingness. He took out his wallet and looked at Clara’s note again. A hand draped on his shoulder. He smelt her before he looked around. Lucia was stood at this side, a sad smile on her face.

  “Rough night?”

  “You could say that. Drink?”

  She looked at his martini. “Sure, I’ll have one of those.” She slid onto the barstool next to him as Nick signalled from two more drinks, but the two of them remained silent for a while, as if nether quite knew what to say. After a sip of her drink, it was Lucia who spoke first.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Nick looked at her blankly.

  “Clara. I’m sorry.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “About me and her, or about her day job?” he asked bitterly.

  “Both.” Lucia took a sip of her drink and avoided his gaze.

  Nick studied her carefully. “You knew didn’t you?”

  “I suspected. I thought about telling you, but…” The words died.

  Nick nodded and took another sip of his drink. “So what would you do now?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “I am.”

  “I’d go home, lick my wounds and try to put all this behind me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t like loose ends, because of Clara; I won’t let it end like this.”

  Lucia twirled her glass idly and gave a sigh. “Nick, really, you should leave this–”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  Lucia stared at her glass for a few seconds before turning to meet Nick’s eyes. “You’re a smart guy; I’m sure you’ve already figured most of it out.”

  “Still, I’d like to hear it from you. Seems I’ve been in the dark all the way along.”

  “That was the idea wasn’t it?” Lucia said sadly. “You were underestimated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think we need more drinks.” She drained the last of her glass and signalled for two more martinis. “Carruthers, he got you into this, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Well, no, I guess Ramona’s murder did. The night I heard the shot, found her and ended up in the police station.” Nick stared into the middle distance. “That seems like a lifetime ago. It was only days.” He looked around the bar and gave a wry smile. “All this, it doesn’t change does it? The world goes on.”

  “The world always goes on, Nick. You should know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said bitterly, “until you die, then it all stops.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, Ramona’s murdered, practically right outside my flat. She just happens to have my name and address in her pocket – a stupid coincidence that really brought me into all this. Clara had given it to her, said that she had a friend who needed helping out. I guess she was on her way to see me.”

  “If only she’d made it. She was never going to, though. Just like you were never meant to find her killer. You shouldn’t believe in coincidences in our line of work.”

  Nick looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Nick. Who put you up to all this? Who’s been leading you in circles, getting you to do his dirty work?” Her eyes held the question.

  “Carruthers?”

  Lucia nodded. “You don’t think it was odd that he got involved in what was a police matter, and got you on the trail?”

  “He’d been watching Ramona. They knew what she was up to.”

  “But did they? What was she really up to, Nick? Sure, she was screwing the Brigadier, looking for secrets. She was meant to be passing them onto Jurgen to clear the debts she’d run up, but she got greedy, started thinking about playing both sides of the game. She was holding out for more money, passing duff notation, Jurgen even thought she might have been compromised.”

  Nick nodded. “So they killed her?”

  “No. They had something better. Once he was onto her, rather than just watch her, Carruthers couldn’t resist making contact, playing the big spy. He’s a young guy, not clever, promoted because he went to the right school and the correct college rather than any actual aptitude. He has his nice little wife and kids in the suburbs, but suddenly he’s this spy and he’s got this sultry Spanish spy in his sights. Someone exotic, dangerous. He couldn’t help himself and Ramona played him like a puppy.”

  “Jurgen was going to blackmail Carruthers into passing secrets. I know that’s why Carruthers put me on the scent of the whole thing, to get the incriminating pictures back, bum Jurgen off and close down their network. I know all that.”

  Lucia nodded. “And you’re right, but there’s more. Don’t tell me you really don’t see it?”

  “What?”

  “Carruthers was a lovelorn, or I should rather say passion-consumed puppy in Ramona’s hands, but sometimes a puppy can bite.”

  She held Nick’s gaze as realisation washed over him.

  “Exactly,” she said, recognising the look in his eyes.

  “Carruthers killed Ramona,” Nick said in wonder.

  “She thought she could play this better than Jurgen, put herself in a real position of power and make even more money. Rather than let Jurgen do the blackmailing, she decided that she’d do it herself. Cut out the middleman and cream the profit. She threatened to go to his wife and tell her everything. He could never have that. Sadly for Ramona, it broke the spell she’d had over him. He got suspicious. That’s when he realised that she’d already had the chance to lift some information from him – important information that he never should have had out of the office or lying around.”

  Nick knew what she was talking about but he kept quiet. He could almost feel the pictures weighing heavy in his pocket as she studied his face.

  She smiled. “I can see you know what I’m talking about. My job was to help Jurgen get the plans and get them out of the country. Not the ones from Carruthers, but the ones Ramona got from the Brigadier. They were planted with him anyway. That old duffer could never be trusted with really important stuff. We knew he was a potential weakness, so we primed him with false information and let it happen. I was helping Jurgen escape with worthless information and getting to know the network.”

  “We?”

  Lucia looked at him coyly. “I am Argentinean, parent second generation German, third generation Welsh and some Spanish in there along with some other things.” She laughed. “I’m freelance, Nick, but I was working with your government on this case. They saw I could be useful, I had the contacts and background to appear and make myself useful and trusted to Jurgen’s people straight away.” She shrugged. “It’s a funny game we’re in.”

  “I’m not in it,” Nick said coldly. “It ended badly last time I played.”

  “Of course, but yet here you are playing it again.”

  “So why did Carruthers have me try to find Ramona’s killer?” Nick said puzzled.

  “Because he misjudged you. He kills her then they find your name in her pocket. He does some digging, sees
your past and has you down as a washed-up spy drinking out your early retirement. What an opportunity! He tells the police not to investigate as it’s a national security matter then puts you on the trail. If anyone asks it seems like he’s done a good thing, he’s looking to solve it, but he didn’t expect you to find anything or come close. You blunder around upsetting people like he knew you would, putting the pressure on Jurgen; he tipped you off about them of course?”

  Nick nodded glumly.

  “Exactly,” she beamed. “You put these people under pressure and flush them out, he knows you won’t find the murderer because you’re floundering in the dark, and anyway it’s him and no one would ever suspect that.”

  “What did she have on him, apart from the affair?”

  “That I don’t know. Carruthers has access to some sensitive stuff. Not being part of your country’s intelligence organisation, I wasn’t considered trustworthy enough to be told what he might have. In fact, I wasn’t told at all. I have deduced it myself. Ramona had something else, something that would ruin his career rather than his family life.”

  “The bank details and list of names?”

  “What?”

  “I found part of a page of a statement for a Swiss account, and also some Eastern European-looking names on a piece of paper.”

  “That would make sense. Carruthers is involved in the intelligence planning for the Balkans.” She smiled. “Something else I wasn’t told, but I know.”

  “Well, you are quite the well of information aren’t you?”

  “If only you knew.” Her smile faded. “That account might be Carruthers’ account. Maybe she took it and was blackmailing him about that. I wonder if he is as loyal as we think?” she mused.

  “He lies, kills the woman he’s been sleeping with and is reckless with secret documents; why not add greed and disloyalty to the list? You think he’s passing information?”

  Lucia bit her bottom lip, her forehead creasing slightly. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him. We should try to find out. I’m sure that’s the kind of information my British handler would be glad to know. It could mean a good bonus.”

  “How many people are you working for?” Nick asked, “Just out of interest.”

  “A few,” she said offhandedly.

  “It must get confusing, and dangerous?”

  “It does, but it keeps me busy. I can’t stand boredom.” Her teeth flashed white in a smile. “The problem is I can never stay one place too long. Sooner or later someone gets uncomfortable with the arrangement.” She shrugged. “Then it’s time to leave. It’s tough to make friends and easy to make enemies in this business.”

  “Speaking of friends, what will Jurgen do now?”

  “What Clara tells him to,” she replied simply. There was an awkward silence. “You really had no idea?” she asked softly.

  “No.”

  “I see. Clara is a beautiful woman.”

  “She’s a beautiful person, too. We were in love.”

  “Were?”

  “Are!” Nick growled.

  “You didn’t seem too in love with her when you kissed me earlier.” Her hand rested on his thigh. He didn’t move it. He frowned.

  “Let’s not complicate things. It was a kiss, that’s all. You used it to distract me and it worked.”

  “Or maybe because I wanted to do it, too,” she said.

  Nick looked at her and their eyes locked for a little too long before Nick looked away. “And maybe because you did, too.”

  She breathed, leaning closer. Nick could smell her fragrant scent. The hand was burning hot on his leg. He broke from her gaze and grabbed clumsily for his glass.

  “Just like I wanted to tell you about Clara. I did try to warn you…”

  “What do you know about Clara?” he said a little more gruffly than he’d meant to.

  Lucia dropped her hand from his thigh and leant back. “I met her here. I didn’t know until tonight that she was an agent, too. Never trust the Swiss. All that neutrality’s not healthy,” she laughed. “Jurgen didn’t know either. Wheels within wheels, Nick. She’d been sent here as a sleeper by the SS to embed, but the certain parties back home had got increasingly impatient with Jurgen’s running of the operation. That’s why they sent me in. What none of us knew was that Clara was also keeping an eye on things here.” She shook her head. “That will be the undoing of these Nazis. They are ruthless and ambitious, but they are also paranoid and suspicious. Everyone is watching everyone.”

  “What do you think they’ll do now?”

  “Get out of London.”

  “Just like that? Pack up and go? They’ve got nothing worthwhile.”

  Lucia was gnawing her bottom lip, looking at Nick.

  “What is it?”

  “Nick, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “What? What do you know?”

  Her hand was back on his leg; she’d done it subconsciously. Now it was him leaning into her.

  “Nick, I don’t need to think about what they’ll do. I know.”

  Nick looked at her in confusion. He opened his mouth but she beat him to it.

  “She was here – Clara – just before you came.”

  “What?” Nick leapt down from the barstool. “When? Where did she go?”

  “Oh, Nick,” Lucia said, sadly shaking her head. “Please don’t do this.”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Lucia, you have to tell me. Where have they gone?”

  “She came, to give me a message to give to you. Jurgen was with her. They were arguing. She wants to get out of London now. Jurgen won’t. He doesn’t want to go home empty-handed. They think Carruthers has the pictures Ramona had. Even if he doesn’t they’re going to get what they can from him. Clara didn’t want to do it, but Jurgen was insistent.”

  “Oh my God,” said Nick.

  “Yes. They’re going to call Carruthers to arrange a meet, tell him everything they know, everything we’ve discussed, and try to blackmail him to meet them with the plans.”

  “He won’t do that. They’ll be killed.”

  “He might. He’s a coward. He may do it as a one-off to get them off his back, but you are right, he could also engineer a trap. It’s more likely.”

  “We have to stop them!” Nick exclaimed.

  “We?”

  He looked pleadingly into her eyes. “You’re not going to help?”

  “I have haven’t I? I’ll help you some more. Stay here and drink. Don’t get involved. We’re out of this now.”

  “Is it that easy for you? In and out like that? The woman I love may be heading to her death.”

  “Then you should go,” she said, looking away.

  “Where were they going?”

  “They were heading to Bar Italia down the road. Italian Intelligence have a sleeper in there. They use it for meeting and to pick up what they need. They were going there to pick up weapons and arrange the meet. Nick, please, don’t go. Leave it,” she implored him.

  “I can’t. I have to do this. I can stop them and convince Clara we have a future.” He turned to go then paused and turned back towards her. “You said there was a message for me from Clara?”

  She smiled mournfully. “I love you.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Bar Italia was little more than a red and green, neon-lit doorway in Soho with a tunnel-like room running behind it. It was a twenty-four-hour beacon of light and warmth in a mostly dark street at that early hour of the morning. Condensation fogged the solitary plate glass windows and inside, people sat huddled in tattered, wooded booths over strong, steaming coffee, the strong aroma drenching the senses even from outside. At this hour, it was an almost solitary source of light, spilling a garish glow into the fog-bound street. The harsh electric lighting made the frontage of the shop glow in the mist.

  Inside, the patrons sat hunched in conversation over their coffees, the stark lighting casting their faces pale as ghosts. From outside, Nick could not get a clear view of the
interior. The panes dripped inside and out so that all he could make out were blurred forms. He edged the door open and slipped quietly in. Somewhere a wireless played mournful Italian folk music, which crackled into the ether, struggling to be heard over the hisses and clatter of the busy coffee counter. Clouds of steam seemed to hang in the air, mingling with the wreaths of cigarette smoke hanging over the gentle hum of late-night chatter.

  The blast of fresh night air that accompanied Nick’s entrance caused a few faces to glance up from their tables, among them the two Italians from the embassy sat in a booth near the back. Nick recognised Clara’s blonde hair. Registering the look of alarm on the men’s faces, Clara and Jurgen spun round as one of the Italian men rose to his feet. A heavyset man stepped out from behind the counter to block Nick’s way, but Jurgen waved him away and Nick continued to the table of four. Clara looked at him hopefully. The men glared. Nick smiled.

  “What do you want?” Jurgen barked.

  “That’s very kind of you. I’ll have a cappuccino please,” Nick beamed.

  “I wasn’t offering you a drink,” the German snarled.

  “Oh, nevertheless, I’d love one,” Nick smiled, squeezing the outraged Italian along and sitting down on the end of the booth’s bench. The standing Italian was now stranded and sandwiched in, he looked uncertainly between Nick and Jurgen before grumpily sitting down, his shoulder turned away from Nick slightly in suspicion. Jurgen tapped the table impatiently with a finger.

  “Well, this is cosy,” Nick remarked.

  “What are you doing here?” Jurgen asked.

  Nick shifted his gaze from the man to Clara. She was silent. He looked deep into her eyes. “I came here for you,” he said softly.

  “How touching,” sneered Jurgen.

  Clara’s eyes didn’t leave Nick’s face.

  “Forget all this, leave with me now,” Nick pleaded.

  Clara bit her lip. “I can’t. Oh, Nick, can’t you see? I have to leave…”

  “No! No, you don’t. You can stay. Let Jurgen take care of this fools’ errand. Do you really think Carruthers is going to hand over classified documents to you? It’s a trap. He’ll kill you.”