Betrayal (20 page)

Shaking her head, she heard herself saying, ‘It's nothing. I'd best go upstairs for a minute, though. I think one of my garters has come undone.'

‘Wish I could help,' he said and grinned, ‘but I'm spoken for, aren't I? Oh well, Erin of the Raven Hair will just have to be fended off. See you soon?'

‘Yes, of course. I'd like that very much.' How had she kept her voice so calm? wondered Mary. They'd dance again. She'd have to now, she pregnant by a German officer and with an IRA bullet hidden in one of the cups of her bra.

She was tucking the bullet away, had her back to the door, when Nolan stepped quickly into the bedroom. A corner of his reflection was caught in the bureau mirror and long before his face was seen, she knew it was him, felt weak, sick, terrified—so many things all at once and couldn't seem to move. In a black dinner jacket, bow tie, white dress shirt and black trousers, he looked the rake, the cavalier, the debonair man-about-town, not the mad bomber of a London tube station.

‘Mrs. Fraser, it is,' he said. She was still holding herself by the right breast, but had gripped it more tightly. ‘Looking lovely in a dark brown velvet dress. A velvet woman is it?'

Very slowly the hand was withdrawn, but she'd not turn to face him yet, was terrified someone else would come and catch her at it.

Nolan gave her the brief smile of a small boy up to mischief, causing her to ask what it was he wanted. ‘Don't you care that they might recognize you?'

He'd scare the living daylights out of her now, would play it hard. ‘You didn't go to Dublin like you said you would. We were waiting for you and you didn't care to show up.'

‘I couldn't! The colonel … He's put it off for a while.' It all sounded so weak of her.

‘How's Caithleen?' he asked, startling her for he'd moved away from the open door and she'd thought someone must be coming.

‘Fine. She's fine.' He'd not come any closer yet.

‘You're not getting cold feet, are you?' he asked.

Nolan had a way of switching in an instant from the small boy's delight with laughter in the eyes to an emptiness that frightened.

‘I could scream for help,' she said warily, now watching him more closely in that mirror of hers.

‘Try it and see what happens.'

‘What is it you want? Please just ask it and go. I … I
can't
have anyone finding us together. Not here, not anywhere.'

‘Ashamed of me, are you? And there was me serving up the beef to the major and the colonel and asking if they'd each like two slices. Rare was the colonel's, with the blood dripping from the knife and them china-blue eyes of his dancing with greed, to say nothing of the fact that all that grub was supposed to have been rationed.'

Someone must have started up the stairs, for he ducked his head out, only to pull back in. ‘False alarm,' he said, enjoying her predicament. ‘Are you cooperating with the major?'

The flaxen hair had been cut quite short and slicked down hard so as to be like that of the other waiters and all of the male guests. It was parted in the middle. ‘I … I've given him two names.'

‘But it wasn't enough, was it?'

He was smiling at her again. He had such a soft accent, she had to wonder where he'd gone to school and why he could be so refined at times and yet … ‘No, it wasn't enough.'

‘Did Kramer give you anything for us to send over on that wireless of the Germans?'

‘Kevin said Erich wouldn't, and he didn't.'

She was like a wary little velvet mouse. The dress suited. She'd be as warm as toast in it and as fresh as a Michaelmas daisy, even to wearing a touch of scent behind those ears of hers. ‘So it's Kevin, is it now?'

‘O'Bannion then.'

‘Do you fancy him, Mrs. Fraser?'

‘Look, please just tell me what you want and go. It's crazy of you to have come here.'

Crazy was it?

He had moved away and at first she couldn't find him in the mirror, but then there he was standing by the bed.

‘British Army mack's. FANYs, too, eh? Dark blue ones for the Wrens. Just what the devil's been going on down there, Mrs. Fraser? You spending all that time with a RAF flying officer and that husband of yours not having a care?'

‘Bannerman thought it would soften me up if I talked to someone who'd been chasing U-boats.'

‘And did it?' he asked, tossing a coat aside and then another and another—was he planning to take her somewhere? Was Fay Darcy waiting outside for them?

‘Well?' he demanded.

‘No, of course it didn't.'

‘Berlin have been asking questions, Mrs. Fraser. If you'd thought to go to Dublin like you said you would, you'd have found that out.'

‘I've already told you …'

Nolan pulled out her coat. ‘Berlin are being difficult. They want the names of all of Kramer's superior officers—the German High Command in Tralane. They want proof that you've met with them. Get it!'

He tossed her coat on top of the others, looked as if he'd like to kill her and leave her body lying there.

‘You and that husband of yours be out of here no later than one fifteen.'

Dear God, a bomb? Nolan could see the thought racing through that velvet mind like lightning.

‘You wouldn't,' he heard her say, she trying hard not to cry. ‘You couldn't.'

Had her voice betrayed her feelings far more than the moisture that had collected in those lovely bedroom eyes of hers?

When he stood behind her, his breath was warm and as he touched her dress, she couldn't help but flinch.

She did smell nice, thought Nolan, her hair like silk. He'd brush a hand down her arm, would let her think he'd mess with her. ‘You want to watch out for Kevin, Mrs. Fraser.'

A bomb … Nolan had planted one in the house. It was in the smile he gave, in the way he was watching to see what she'd do. Turning quickly, she faced him, he stepping back a pace and instantly losing the smile. ‘If you set off a bomb in here, everything at Tralane changes. They won't let me in because they won't be around to do so.'

‘Or there'll be such a state of emergency they'll have turned the whole of Ulster inside out—is that it, Mrs. Fraser?'

‘You know it is. Look,
please
! For the love of God …'

‘Whose god? Why should I listen to any talk of God from the likes of you?'

Mary ducked but he didn't hit her.

‘Maybe the Germans want us to blow this place to smithereens, Mrs. Fraser, maybe they think that copping this lot is a far better job than bagging that lover of yours, but it's leaving you with the thought, I am. Good hunting.'

‘Nolan, please don't do this to me. My husband … the others …'

Right enough she could see the shambles the bomb would leave and hear the cries for help.

‘Just tell me what you want of me.'

She had said it like a woman down on her hands and knees. ‘Everything, Mrs. Fraser. Every little thing we ask.' He'd let her feel his lips brush over hers, would put a hand at the base of her throat, then both of them on those breasts of hers while feeling for the bullet.

‘Don't, please don't.'

‘Just remember what I said.'

The room was in darkness. Every second of every minute ticked away. Mary wished she'd not hear them, wished she didn't have the image of what must happen. All the upstairs rooms but one had been gone through and done as best she could, the bedroom with the coats first, she thinking that he could well have left it there in a box or hamper under the bed or tucked into one of the closets, but the trouble was, of course, that Dotty Bannerman and the colonel had umpteen boxes and suitcases and she couldn't possibly look in all of them, had been so afraid, too, that someone would find her at it and demand to know the truth.

Feeling for the light switch, murmuring came to her, sweet nothings, hot kisses and then, ‘Oh that's lovely, Jack. You've such a grand one.'

They were going at it on one of the twin beds in Colonel and Mrs. Bannerman's room. Maevis had her knickers looped around an ankle. Her stockinged knees were up and Jack, with his trousers down, was lying between them, his face buried in the girl's breasts, she clutching him by the seat.

Blinding them momentarily with the light, Mary stammered, ‘Oh, sorry.' Blushing crimson and feeling utterly stupid, she backed out but forgot about the light, Maevis saying, ‘Shit! It's that doctor's wife,' but going right back to it.

Pressing her forehead against the door, her hand still on the knob, Mary heard herself whisper, ‘Please help me find it.' She couldn't tell the colonel and the major that there was a bomb in the house. They'd ask her how she knew of it, and she'd have to tell them everything as everyone else ran outside.

It was 12.37 a.m. Straightening, she dried her eyes. If all else failed, she would tell them to clear the house with ten minutes to spare.

Then she would stay inside all by herself and that would be the end of it.

There were two telephones in the house. One at the foot of the stairs, she coming down them now, the other in the study. She could say she'd been passing by and had heard the thing ring. An anonymous caller, a tip-off. Didn't the IRA sometimes do that, especially if they knew the bomb could not possibly be found in time?

‘Phone's out of order, Miss. Captain Allanby's attending to it. Wind must have blown a line down.'

A line … She'd forgotten all about Jimmy's being at the party.

Mary set the phone down. ‘Thanks. It doesn't matter. I was just going to check with Mrs. Haney, our cook-housekeeper. She and her husband are staying with Caithleen.'

‘It's grand news about the colonel's sons, miss. The party will be certain to go till dawn.'

‘Yes. Yes, I suppose it will.'

If she told them about the bomb, she'd betray the IRA and Fay Darcy would make sure they got their hands on her. If she didn't tell them, there'd be chaos at precisely 1.16 a.m.

‘You're enjoying yourself, Mary?'

‘Hamish, shouldn't we be going?'

‘
Och
no, lass. The night has only begun.'

Somehow she had found her way into the breakfast nook. Hamish was courting a bottle of single malt he'd pinched from the colonel's private store, was mellow by the look, not four sheets to the wind yet, but no doubt very near to it.

‘You look particularly beautiful,' he said. ‘The major, here, was only just saying it.'

Trant lifted his glass in a silent salute as sober as a judge and damn Hamish for getting himself pissed at a time like this! ‘I think you've had enough,' she said, the fishwife again and knowing only that he'd rebel.

‘Come and join us, lass. The major was saying you were being most helpful.'

Trant took in the stark beauty of despair, the haunted look of a woman on the run. ‘Yes, please do.'

‘I can't. If you'll excuse me, Major, I'll go back to the dancing.'

He pointed the way and when she went into the kitchen, patted the husband's arm in farewell and got up to follow her. She was looking at the kitchen waste, then in under the sinks, then up in the cupboards, first one and then another and with no time to lose, the staff being nudged out of the way if necessary and no explanations given.

She settled on two cardboard boxes that had been left beside the outer door, hardly had time to ask what they contained and when she heard, ‘Favours for the ladies and gents, miss,' snatched up a knife and cut the strings.

Then her fingers went to a nervous stillness Trant found curious, for they had paused over the first of the boxes.

She teased the lid open—didn't have a care about getting that frock of hers dirty. Just knelt on the floor and began gingerly to take up each of the brightly wrapped packages. Some were smaller than others—cufflinks, no doubt. Others were lipstick size or longer and wider—pen-and-pencil sets perhaps. There were name cards and she glanced at one of these before leaving the first box to open the second.

‘Looking for something, are we?' he asked, startling her.

‘My gift,' she said, having turned back to the box. ‘
And
Hamish's, Major. He has to be at the hospital in Newry first thing tomorrow. If I don't get him home …'

It was no use, and Trant had seen this clearly enough. Hamish didn't ever
need
to be at that hospital or any other than Tralane's. Even here in Northern Ireland, the Royal Society of Medicine had taken that privilege away. Besides, he'd be drunk in any case.

‘I just want to go home, Major. If you must know, I'm worried about Caithleen.'

‘Then let me help you. One mustn't leave without one's favour.' What the devil was the matter with her?

They found Fraser's cufflinks and she set that one aside on the floor. ‘And this is yours, I believe,' he said, handing the thing to her, she awkwardly taking it from him.

‘Major …'

‘Yes?'

She winced. ‘Would you have the time, please?'

The time. She'd a watch on her wrist and the clock up there on the wall. ‘Zero one hundred hours, near enough.'

‘Thanks. Now if you'll excuse me, I … I have something to do.'

She ran from him, completely forgetting the much sought after favours. She was in the men's coatroom when he found her madly going through the pockets, she saying overly loudly that she simply had to find Fraser's car keys.

There were boots and shoes and walking sticks and mack's, caps and guns, Bannerman's Webley service revolver, his own as well. ‘Mrs. Fraser, why not tell me what you're really looking for?'

Mary glanced at her watch and pushed past him, heading for the living room, the sound of music and laughter growing, Maevis and Jack coming down the stairs but still looking flushed and turning quickly away so as to avoid her, Erin Ross and Christopher Blakely being nowhere in sight.