Cut to the Chase (29 page)

Read Cut to the Chase Online

Authors: Ray Scott

Tags: #Fiction - Thriller

BOOK: Cut to the Chase
2.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

On the other hand Wallace needed to keep ASIO and the High Commission on side. Wallace now having partially blown it and established that he was an Australian to Murray Craddock, he was ready to at least pursue an acquaintanceship. He had to admit he hungered for the company of Australians, and since Wallace's meetings with McKay appeared to degenerate into slanging matches, he enjoyed the thought of meeting with another Australian. So, seemingly, did Murray Craddock. Wallace had the camera with him; being a small one it fitted easily into a pocket.

Craddock answered the door, shook him by the hand and ushered him into the living room. Adele Briscoe was also present, which surprised Wallace to some degree, maybe there was something going on between them. She rose to her feet and gave him a brief nod that didn't seem particularly friendly. She eyed him searchingly; possibly she suspected Wallace could be a police spy, which, to a certain degree, he was. She greeted him, in those accents which were reminiscent of television newscasters, which not for the first time made Wallace wonder how a dedicated Socialist or Communist could sound like that. Still, had there not been a Red Duchess in Spain during and after their Civil War?

Wallace had a beer thrust into his hand and looked around the room. There was an air of affluence about it, not too pronounced, but again with the beliefs that had been attributed to Craddock by Bramble and others, Wallace was mildly surprised.

‘Have you been in England long, Charles?' asked Adele.

Wallace took his time replying as he sat down. Firstly he was stunned momentarily by the use of a first name. He had already introduced himself at the shop as Charles Carlton – Charles being his father's name and Carlton coming to mind just before he nearly said Wallace. Carlton was one of the first names that came to mind. Being from Melbourne Wallace was an avid follower of Australian Rules, and as he groped for a fictitious surname his mind had hastily scanned the Australian Rules lists. Carlton was one of the first names that came to mind that had the attributes of a surname. He had never supported the club in question, but could hardly call himself “St Kilda” or “Western Bulldogs”.

‘No…er…Adele, only a few weeks,' he floundered. Maybe he should have given a longer period, since the fugitive the police sought had only been in England for that length of time. But it was too late now.

There was a copy of The Morning Star newspaper on the sofa, Craddock removed it and placed it on a shelf under the coffee table. Then he started talking. Inevitably after Australia talk, he began talking about socialism and the manner in which the Americans were trying to thrust their views on the rest of the world. Wallace tried to look interested as he progressed; but as the conversation progressed Wallace was somewhat puzzled, it was as though Craddock was talking to one of his party hierarchy.

As the conversation progressed Wallace made one or two comments that caused Craddock to halt in his tracks. Adele looked enthusiastic with the choice of subject but as the one sided conversation progressed and Wallace made some asides she seemed to be looking at Wallace with some puzzlement. Finally she rose and went into the kitchen where Wallace could hear dishes being placed on a table. Maybe she made some concession in her beliefs of equality for both genders and was starting to prepare a meal. Wallace's spirits rose, he was famished.

She was, she appeared and announced the meal was ready, and the two men trooped into the kitchen to partake of it, a location that seemed natural for members of the oppressed classes. Wallace had hoped that the meal would divert Craddock from his hobby horse, but it didn't.

Craddock was fanatical, there was no doubting that. Having made a lead in on Rugby League, which Wallace thought would appeal to him as a Sydneysider, the subject was brusquely brushed aside after a couple of minutes in favour of the situation in the Middle East where the Arabs were being oppressed by US invaders and Israel. Wallace began to wonder why on earth ASIO was interested in the man. Any meeting with his Russian handlers would dissolve into sheer boredom for them in a matter of minutes. He could imagine all the undercover KGB operatives would go back to Moscow to get away from him.

Wallace managed to take a couple of shots while they had a brief look at the garden, it had been suggested by Adele as it seemed possible she wanted them out of the way while she cleared things up in the kitchen and sitting room, or maybe she was bored stiff too. Wallace wanted to give her a hand but she ushered him and Craddock outside. Then Wallace pocketed the camera and forgot it, it was getting dark anyway, and he was heartily sick of the whole business. If McKay wanted a further sequence of photographs he could get one of his own men to do the task.

Later, back in the sitting room, Craddock was in full flight about a Republic for Australia when Adele interrupted him by rising to her feet.

‘Time I went, I think,' she said. ‘Maybe I'd better give Charles a lift.'

‘No don't do that, I'll do it,' said Craddock.

‘Thanks,' Wallace said without enthusiasm, he would have preferred Adele, at least he'd be able to get a word in edgeways.

‘Where are you staying?' asked Craddock.

‘Not far from here?'

‘Where exactly?'

Wallace told him he had moored the canal boat nearby, and promptly regretted it. He felt it was foolish to give too much away so he wasn't too specific.

Adele began collecting some things together and Craddock disappeared. Wallace looked out of the window into the street. It was a very quiet backwater with a high proportion of foliage. She re-appeared with a handbag and her car keys.

‘I'll probably see you again some time, Charles,' she said in the time honoured cliché that most likely meant never.

‘Yes, it has been nice meeting you,' Wallace replied in the equally time honoured white lie.

‘You and Adam probably have a lot to talk about as two expatriate Australians.' she observed.

‘Oh yes, indeed,' Wallace replied with a smile. ‘He seems very strong about politics, doesn't he?'

‘Well, we all feel strongly about things, don't we?'

‘Well, I'm not much of a political animal. My voting has ranged from Labor to Liberal in Australia.'

‘What?'

She looked at Wallace with some surprise.

‘Liberal! I was told you were one of his Party friends.'

‘No, I was just an Australian tourist who came into your shop.'

‘Oh!' her face clouded. ‘Well I can understand it now, I noticed you didn't seem to contribute too much about politics while he was talking, you just nodded politely.'

She picked up her book from the table and headed for the door. ‘I'm afraid I have no sympathy for people who don't think strongly about things, but I'll wish you good luck,' she said primly as she prepared to leave.

‘Good luck?'

‘You'll need it, he had a call from some visiting communist party members during the last week or so, they said there was a visiting comrade who wanted to call on him, who was travelling incognito and they were going to meet up with him here. We thought they meant you because they rang shortly after you arrived in the shop. Probably they didn't mean you after all, must be somebody else. They are arriving later tonight, I think.'

‘Christ!'

‘Maybe I'll see you again,' she gave a stern smile which caused Wallace to wonder whether her desire to rekindle the acquaintanceship was to enable her to make a convert to the cause.

Wallace watched her walk down the drive towards her car, for all her fanatical politics she was quite an attractive woman and Wallace felt a momentary interest. Her eyes met Wallace's briefly as she entered her car and then she drove off.

Craddock returned and he looked somewhat upbeat, though there was a slight air of puzzlement about him. There had been a slight ‘tink' from the dining room so Wallace gathered he had been on the telephone.

‘Oh! She's gone has she?'

‘Yes.' Wallace answered. ‘Is everything all right?'

‘Yes, yes,' he answered, a little testily. ‘Would you like some more tea?'

‘Yes, I don't mind.' Wallace was relieved as Craddock/Morris left him momentarily as he didn't want a fresh barrage on politics. When Wallace had told Adele that he had been a Liberal voter it had not been strictly true, his tendency had always been to be a swinging voter but certainly his allegiance had never been to the extreme areas to which Craddock appeared to subscribe. Wallace also resolved to make some sarcastic remarks to McKay for subjecting him to an evening of total boredom.

After he returned with a fresh cup for Wallace, they settled down to more conversation, or rather Craddock/Morris did. Yet he didn't seem to be at ease.

‘Are you a member of a political party?' he asked eventually.

‘No, never have been,' Wallace answered.

‘Oh!' he digested that in silence. ‘Have you ever been involved in Party affairs?'

‘Party, what party are we talking about?'

‘The Communist Party – that is of Australia, or here?'

‘Never!' Wallace said. ‘I've never been a member of any political party. Why are you asking?'

‘Well, I seem to have been misinform…' he began, then there was the sound of a car pulling up outside, probably the party members he was expecting who were no doubt thinking that Wallace was the party official they were expecting. He could see why Craddock was asking those questions, Adele had made it clear to Wallace that Craddock/Morris had thought he had been someone else, someone had told him that the person who had met him in the shop and had come to dinner was a party apparatchik.

Craddock leapt to his feet.

‘I'll be back in a minute,' he said.

Wallace suddenly had forebodings and decided that when the visitors entered the house initially he would be elsewhere; he wanted to vet them first. He decided to go to the toilet; there was a small toilet cubicle next to the front door. There were in effect two front doors, Craddock had built on a small enclosed entrance around the porch and there was a door opening into that from the front path, and that was the door through which he was conversing with those outside. As Wallace emerged into the hall he found that the original front door was partly open and in the illumination of the outer porch light outside could just make out Craddock talking animatedly to three men in the covered porch. Wallace entered the toilet and relieved himself, directing his stream to the side of the pan so he could hear what they were saying.

‘Are you sure he's a Party member?' this was from Craddock. ‘From what he's been saying…!'

‘Quite sure.' said one of the visitors and the voice struck a chord for Wallace. Then Wallace recognised it and the remainder of his urine hit the wall as he jerked back in surprise. He hastily re-adjusted his clothing and nearly caught himself in the zip of his flies.

‘Christ!' he muttered. ‘It's that fucking waiter…Juan!'

He inched the door open, peered around and then exited from the toilet in a rush, the hall light was on and if he headed for the back of the house he would be seen by those outside. He headed for the stairs, being shielded from the newcomers in the covered porch by the still half open front door, and climbed them slowly, consoling himself with the thought that if there was a perfectly simple explanation he could legitimately say he had gone to the bathroom upstairs.

‘…waste any more time, Tara, you go round the back.'

‘Wait a minute, what's going on here, you said…!' protested Craddock.

That was enough for Wallace. He was still on the bend of the stairs and in shadow as two men, one of them being Juan the waiter, and the other a protesting Craddock, came into the hallway. Then another man came in, it was Kalim. Luckily Wallace had been given prior warning by recognising Juan's voice and with the utterance of the name of Tara he knew he was in danger although at this stage he didn't know how they had locked onto him. From Craddock's question it appeared he too had been duped, having been informed that Wallace was a high party official with whom the others wanted to rendezvous.

‘Where is he?'

‘In the sitting room, the door on the right…but what…? Look, I've never seen any of you before, which Party branch…?'

But Wallace didn't hear the rest of Craddock's puzzled question, he headed up the rest of the stairs in a panic, though he had the presence of mind to go quietly. He doubted if they would have heard, they were making too much noise themselves as they hurled themselves into the sitting room.

There was a window on the landing, he opened it and peered out, the garage roof was below. He climbed out and landed on the garage roof, it was flat and fairly solid and had a tarpaulin cover. He lay flat and rolled over to the edge, there was a bush below. He hung from the roof and dropped, twigs brushed against his body and neck as he hit the ground and fell into the root system of a rhododendron bush. He seemed to have made enough noise to raise the dead.

‘He's not here,' he heard a voice shout which seemed to come from the kitchen window. ‘Is he out there, Tara?'

Wallace didn't quite catch the reply, it seemed to indicate the negative, but it came from a point that was depressingly close.

‘Come on then, he can't be far away…we'll get him easily.'

As Wallace scrambled out of the rhododendron bush and headed for the flower bed he was inclined to agree with them.

Chapter 19

K
alim was shouting orders from the French window at the rear of the house. Wallace struck off towards the next door neighbour's fence and clambered over it. He made some noise while doing so but he didn't think it was heard in the general hubbub. As he hit the dahlia bed next door the noise in Craddock's property ceased, obviously Kalim had decided that if Wallace was in the vicinity the best recourse was to stand still and listen…like a destroyer hunting a submarine.

Other books

The Secret Box by Whitaker Ringwald
Beyond the Wall of Time by Russell Kirkpatrick
Thrive by Rebecca Sherwin
Travels with Herodotus by Ryszard Kapuscinski
The Cowboy by Joan Johnston
The Horns of Ruin by Tim Akers