1954 - Mission to Venice (18 page)

Don joined him at the door.

Chief Superintendent Tom Dicks, placidly smoking a pipe, waved to him. Sir Robert raised his stick in greeting.

Don descended the staircase and shook hands with Sir Robert and then with Dicks.

“What have you been up to, my boy?” Sir Robert demanded, looking keenly at him.

“I’ve been hunting for Tregarth,” Don said quietly. “He gave me something for you and I’ll be glad to be relieved of the responsibility of it.” He took the book from his pocket and handed it to Sir Robert.

“What is it? “ Sir Robert asked sharply.

“Something Tregarth said you must have at all costs,” Don returned. “I don’t know what it is, but he lost his life trying to get it to you.”

“Lost his life?” Sir Robert’s eyes hardened. “They killed him then?”

“Yes, they killed him.”

“The car’s waiting, Sir Robert,” Dicks said. “No point hanging around here. It’s too exposed for my liking.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Sir Robert said and handed Dicks the leather bound book “Here, you take charge of it.”

“Don’t lose it, Super,” Don said. “They may still be after it.”

Dicks smiled grimly.

“I’d like to see them try and get it,” he said, dropping the book in his pocket. “I’ll take it to Colonel Henderson, Sir Robert. We’ll telephone you as soon as we know.” He looked at Don and gave him his wide, placid smile. “It would seem it is sometimes a good thing when some people don’t mind their own business, Mr. Micklem. Good night,” and he walked off, followed by two burly plainclothes men.

Sir Robert said, “I have my car here, Don. Come home with me. I want to talk to you.”

With Harry sitting next to the chauffeur, Sir Robert and Don settled down at the back of the Daimler that was waiting at the reception hut. The car drove out on to Western Avenue and began its journey to London.

“So you found Tregarth,” Sir Robert said, offering his cigar case. “These are not as good as yours, my boy, but they’ll do.”

“Yes, I found him,” Don said. He struck a match and lit the cigar.

“You’re an obstinate young devil,” Sir Robert said, shaking his head. “You could have ruined everything. I told you to keep out of this business.”

“You wouldn’t have got what you have got if I had kept out,” Don returned “Yes, that’s true,” Sir Robert said and frowned at the glowing end of his cigar. “It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a gamble that might have come off. Poor Tregarth was so enthusiastic and sure he persuaded me to let him go. The weakness was that he had to act alone. He was so sure he could beat them.”

“You forget I don’t know the background, and I think I’m entitled to know.”

Sir Robert nodded.

“I’ll tell you some of it, but not here. Wait until we get home. Suppose you tell me what’s been happening? I’ll want a written report from you for Colonel Henderson, but give me some details now.”

Until they reached Sir Robert’s Kensington home, Don recounted in detail what had happened in Venice. He had just concluded when the car pulled up outside Sir Robert’s home.

“Upon my soul!” Sir Robert said. “What a fantastic story.” He climbed stiffly out on to the pavement. “Well, come in. Jedson, look after Mr. Mickl
em’s man. Give him something to
eat and a whisky. I’ve no doubt he deserves it.”

Jedson, Sir Robert’s chauffeur, touched his cap. His face brightened considerably. He could see no reason why Harry should drink on his own.

Leaving Harry and Jedson together, Sir Robert opened the front door, handed his hat, coat and stick to his butler and led Don into a big, comfortably-furnished study, walled with books, with a bright fire burning in the grate.

“Sit down, Don,” Sir Robert said, and went over to the liquor cabinet. “Will you have a brandy? I’ve got some good stuff here. Not many bottles left now unfortunately. Came from my father’s cellar.”

“I’d rather have a whisky,” Don said, sitting down before the fire.

“Hmm. When I was a boy, brandy was considered the thing to drink after midnight. Well, never mind . . .” Sir Robert brought a glass of whisky and water and set it on the table by Don’s side. He sat down, holding a balloon glass with brandy in it between his thin, veined hands.

“Yes, that’s a fantastic story,” he said, picking up the threads where Don had left off. “I know Natzka’s reputation well. He’s dangerous and clever. You did well to beat him.” He looked across at Don. “Well, my boy, I’ll tell you a little of my side of the story, but it mustn’t go further. You understand?”

Don nodded

“About nine months ago, we became aware of a bad leak in information to do with - well, perhaps that doesn’t matter,” Sir Robert said, frowning down at his brandy. “The less you know about the details the better. Anyway, someone was giving away important information; someone who must have been in a high position. It made things extremely awkward. It got so bad the heads of the various departments began to suspect each other. I daresay some of the fools even suspected me.” He sipped a little of his brandy, and nodded approvingly. “Sure you won’t change your mind my boy? This is really a splendid brandy.”

“No, thank you,” Don said. “Where does Tregarth fit into this?”

“Yes, Tregarth.” Sir Robert shook his head “Poor fellow! We shall miss him. He was easily our best agent. He had the courage of a lion. Things got so bad; so much vital information was leaking over to the other side that I decided to consult him. Set a thief to catch a thief – you understand? Nobody had any ideas who could be behind the leak, and I thought he might have a bright suggestion. Well, he had. We did know that the information was finding its way into Natzka’s hands. Tregarth suggested he should pretend to go over to the other side, win Natzka’s confidence and try to find out from Natzka’s end who the man was who was giving the information, away.” Sir Robert got up to poke the fire which didn’t need poking. “I thought the idea was too dangerous. I could see they might accept Tregarth as a traitor, especially if we played our parts well here. I could see, too, that he might even get the information for us, but I couldn’t see how he could get back alive. I told him so, but he was ready to take the risk” The old man crossed his thin legs and stared doubtfully at Don, his big, moist eyes reminding Don of the eyes of a codfish. “You’ve met his wife?”

“Yes,” Don said. “I’ve met her.”

“A nice, sensible girl; not like most of the dolly-mops you see about these days. Well, I thought of her, Don. I told Tregarth it wasn’t fair on her. I shan’t forget in a hurry what he said.” Sir Robert drank some more brandy. “The boy said, ‘This isn’t the time for sentiment. There’s a job to be done and I’m going to do it. I’ll trouble you, sir, not to worry about my wife. She’s my affair.’ This isn’t the time for sentiment Hmm, well, it wasn’t, but I was pretty sure he was throwing away his life, and I felt . . . Well, never mind. He went since the man we were after could have access to any papers coming into my office, it was essential to convince him, whoever he was, that Tregarth had turned traitor. We did it so well and Tregarth played his part so efficiently, he was accepted by Natzka. We got one radio message from him. It was brief, but to the point. He said he had got Natzka’s list of agents operating in this country. The list was in code and he couldn’t crack the code. He said he would do his best to get it to me. Well, he did the next best thing. He gave it to you to give to me.”

“Will you crack the code?” Don asked.

Sir Robert shrugged.

“It may not be necessary. You can be sure this spy has been warned. He may try and bolt and we’ll have him.”

Don finished his whisky and got to his feet.

“Thank you for putting me in the picture, Sir Robert. Now, I must run; I have something that won’t wait to do.”

Sir Robert blinked at him.

“My dear boy, I was hoping you’d stay the night here. After all, you’ve had a very exhausting time. Your house is shut up, isn’t it?”

“I’ve got Harry. He can take care of the house, and I can take care of myself. I’ll let you have a written report in a day or so. Right now I have something to take care of.”

“Well, all right.” Sir Robert went to the door and told the butler to fetch Harry. As he came back into the room, the telephone bell rang.

“Excuse me a moment. That might be Dicks,” he said, and picked up the receiver. He listened to the voice that growled against his ear. “Upon my soul!” he exclaimed suddenly. “I’d better come down. You don’t think it necessary? Well, all right. Come and see me when you have a moment, Colonel. Yes, yes; we won’t tell the press too much. A nervous breakdown or something like that No doubt someone will want to ask a question in the house, but we can put a stopper on him. I’ll wait for you,” and hung up.

He stood pulling at his moustache, his face grave. Then he glanced up and caught Don’s eye.

“One of my colleagues has just shot himself. A man whom I trusted.” He stared at Don, then lifted his shoulders. “Tregarth didn’t die for nothing.”

“No,” Don said. “Well, good night, Sir Robert.”

“Where are you going, my boy?” Sir Robert asked as he shook hands.

“I’m going to see Tregarth’s wife.”

“At this hour? It’s getting on for two. You shouldn’t disturb her now.”

“I shan’t disturb her. Can I borrow your car?”

“By all means. Do you want my man?”

“Harry will drive.”

“Ah, yes. But don’t you think you’d better wait until the morning? She’ll be sleeping.”

Don shook his head.

“If I were waiting news of someone I loved as much as Hilda Tregarth loves her husband, I don’t think I’d sleep much. Good night, Sir Robert.”

Calling to Harry, Don went down the steps into the dark night.