Debut for a Spy (15 page)

I crouched in the ditch, moving forward as quickly as I could. I stopped about 20 yards from the French barrier, and strained my ears. I was just outside the circle of light cast by the floodlight on the guard post.

I could make out most of the words, and the laughter of the Belgian guard cut through the night.

“
Eh
bien
!
Bon
soir
,
Bruno
.
Je
tu
vois
demain
.
Couche
bien
,
mon
ami
.”

The Frenchman was heading back in my direction. I dropped to the ground until I heard the door of the guardhouse slam, then got back to House as quickly as I could.

“What's up, David?”

“
The French guard's had a phone call to stay on duty, otherwise they would have opened the frontier and gone home. The Belgian wasn't ordered to stay, so he's taking off.”

“
Was the call because of us?”

“
I think so, from what I could hear.”

“
What now, old son?”

“
I don't know. We need a diversion. Let's separate. You go through the field to the left, I'll go to the right. Walk about fifty yards, then meet me back here.”

“
What am I looking for?”

“
Anything at all. Just tell me what's there. And be quiet.”

We parted, and I went carefully through the weeds but found nothing at all within my 50-yard limit. I returned to meet House.

“Anything?”

“
Only a small shed with some farm implements.”

“
What's it built out of?”

“
Boards. Not very sturdy.”

“
Show me.”

We moved silently and quickly. About forty yards from the frontier post stood the shed. I had a quick look around.

“This might do it. Let's get back to the car.”

Marijke and Nicki were starting to worry.

“We were afraid you'd been stopped. Can we get through?”

I explained the circumstances.

“I'm going to give the guard something to think about. Nicki, may I have the bottle of cognac you bought? I'll replace it.”

“
Don't worry about it, love.”

I opened the boot and got the survival kit out, slinging it on my shoulder. The blanket I wedged over the bonnet of the car.

“House, drive the car slowly without headlights until you're about a hundred yards from the border. Keep the engine running, the passenger door open. When I arrive we'll make a dash for it.”

“
What are you up to?”

“
I'll tell you later if it works. If I don't show, get the hell out of here and hide.”

Before they could respond I was gone. Carefully making my way back toward the frontier post, I walked the last twenty yards in the shadow at the rear. After a few minutes of feeling along the skirting I found what I was looking for
– the phone wire. Pulling snippers from my emergency pack I cut it with a gentle snap.

Then I crept off toward the shed. About twenty feet from it I stopped, took the lid off the cognac, and, with a twinge of guilt about wasting such a beautiful beverage, took one small mouthful and let it burn down my throat. I fished out my handkerchief, moistened the end with cognac and stuffed the rest into the bottle. Lighting a match from the waterproof container I set the handkerchief ablaze, and hurled the fiery missile at the shed.

As I turned to run there was an explosion behind me, nearly knocking me down. I glanced back to see the shed engulfed with flame. In seconds I was diving into the passenger seat of the car.

“
Jesus, David, won't that attract attention?”

Before I could reply the door of the frontier post slammed open and the guard ran toward the blaze with a fire extinguisher.

“Now, House! Tramp on it!”

He did, but he wasn't happy.

“We're going to hit the barrier!”

“
Ram it, House! Hard!”

With a splintering crash it disintegrated. We hurtled on into the darkness of Belgium.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

London
,
England
–
just
after
midnight
,
Saturday
,
June
16
,
1962

The telephone jolted him from the soothing effects of Tchaikowsky on the turntable and vodka in his brain. He answered, though his tongue did not wish to co-operate.

“
Yes?”

“
Scramble.”

He pressed the button, waiting a few seconds before speaking.

“Go ahead.”

“
I have some unfortunate news, Comrade. Dragon is dead.”

His mind was instantly clear.

“How?”

“
The British agent. Dragon took him and then called us. We left immediately. We found Dragon dead in the street, apparently fallen from a window. His gun was underneath him, and according to our contact with the Deuxieme Bureau it had been fired. The slugs were dug out of a table in an apartment on the third floor. There was another body there, probably the one Dragon had worked over to snare the Englishman.”

“
Any sign of the swine?”

“
One gendarme reported an Englishman leaving the area with another man. In the confusion he wasn't detained. They've alerted all departure points and border crossings, but nothing yet.”

“
All right. Keep me informed.”

He put down the phone, cursing to himself. What kind of man could have turned the tables on that sadist? It didn't seem possible. He must be a savage. Shit. Where do I find another psychopath at short notice?

*

Ieper
,
Belgium
–
the
same
night

We had dashed out to the main highway, dropped our speed, and proceeded into Ieper, trying to look like ordinary tourists. I had removed the blanket from the hood and replaced the emergency kit. The only damage from the barrier was the hood ornament, but, fortunately, it got caught in the blanket and wasn't left behind.

“
Oh, Jesus,” from House.

I looked ahead. A roadblock. There was no way out.

“We can't run – they'll get us for sure. We'll have to bluff. House, you carry it. We'll follow.”

We pulled up as a police officer approached with a flashlight, shining it into the car.

“You are from England,
m'sieu
?” he asked in good English.

“
Yes, we're on a little tour,” said House. “We wanted to see the battlegrounds and pay our respects to our fallen comrades.”

“
You are
un
soldat
,
m'sieu
?”

“
Yes,” said House, handing over his “I” card. “I'm in the Coldstream Guards.”

The policeman examined it carefully, then looked at me.
“And you,
m'sieu
? You are in the army also?”

I had a flash of inspiration.
“Yes, old chap,” I replied with an English accent, “Royal Corps of Transport.”

I handed him the
“I” card which Hammond had given me. House had a look of incredulity on his face and I flashed him a warning glance. The policeman studied the cards, then handed them back.

“
I must examine your vehicle. Please accompany me.”

We both got out and walked around the car, the officer shining his light all the way around the body. He stopped at the front, carefully examining the grill, the lights and the hood.

“What 'appened to the cat, m'sieu? Doesn't the Jaguar usually 'ave an ornament?”

“
Paris,” I replied. “Some blighter decided he wanted a souvenir. Yanked the ruddy thing right off.”

“
The French 'ave no manners, m'sieu. It would not 'appen in Belgium.”

“
Can you tell us what the problem is, Officer?”

“
About 'alf an hour ago a car ran a small border crossing. We also 'ave an alert for an Englishman and a Canadian. But you are both British officers and there is no damage on the car. I'm sorry to 'ave detain you. Please enjoy your visit.”

He saluted, then turned back to his vehicle, signaling to his comrades that we should pass.

“Remind me to ask you about this later,” muttered House as we drove away with a wave to the policeman.

“
Just forget it, House, along with everything else. Please.”

We drove to the town center in silence. Nicki broke it.

“I don't recall the name 'Ieper' from school.”

“
Most people know it by its French name, 'Ypres',” said House. “Pity it's night.
Ypres
was nothing but rubble at the end of World War I, and it was carefully rebuilt stone by stone by the citizens. Now, navigator, what in hell are we up to?”

“A place to stop for the night, but we mustn't use a normal hotel. We don't want all these bits of information coming together in some bright spark's head, and then make ourselves readily available by being in the nearest four-star hostelry. We'll get back on side roads and look for something smaller.”

On we went through darkened villages, looking for a sign that would lead us to a guesthouse or bed-and-breakfast. I hoped I was right in my assumption that anyone looking for us would stick to the main roads and hotels.

“Do the Belgians all speak French, then?” asked Nicki.

“
Only in this region,” answered House. “But most call it 'Walloon', not French. Some linguists say it's a more pure French than Parisian.”

“
What about the rest of Belgium?”

“
In the North they speak Flemish, which is really a Dutch dialect,” said Marijke.

“
That's right,” confirmed House. “Signs are often in both languages all over the country. To compound the problem, the eastern section has many German-speaking people. On top of all that, most Belgians are quite fluent in English. France may have its Eiffel Tower, but Belgium lays honest claim to the Tower of Babel.”

We passed a sign to
Bikschote
. Something caught my eye.

“
Hold on! Back up, House! I think I saw a sign on the right.”

House backed up carefully.

“Stop, and I'll get out to have a look.”

I hopped out, ran part way down a lane, and found the sign which said
'l'Auberge
Marique'
, and underneath, in English, 'Bed and Breakfast.' There was an arrow which pointed to a house partially hidden by a grove of trees. I hurried back to the car.

“
This might do, if they have a vacancy. Drive down the lane and we'll ask.”

House turned in, and we pulled up at the rear of a pretty little stone two-story farmhouse. There was a light on inside, so I hoped we wouldn't disturb anyone by at least enquiring. There were no other cars parked there, and that was a good sign.

“Nicki and I'll go ask, David. You and Marijke sit tight.”

When they had gone it was awfully quiet. I didn't know what to say to Marijke, nor she to me. It was the first time we had been alone since Croydon, and that seemed like an eternity away. She found the words first.

“I'm sorry for the trouble you have in Paris, David. I see how much it affects you. I think it becomes more serious than you tell us, but we don't interfere. I want that you know if I can help I am here for you.”

She reached and took my hand. Suddenly I felt very weary.

“Thank you, Marijke. I don't know what more I can say right now. In fact, I don't know whether I will ever be able to say more about it. I'll have to wait 'til we get back to England. I guess that should be 'if' we get back to England.”

It was quiet again, but House and Nicki came bouncing out of the door and ran to the car.

“It's marvelous,” gushed Nicki. “She had a reservation for both rooms, but they didn't show. She'd just turned the outside lights off before we arrived, so she's glad to have us. She's very nice.”

“
Two rooms? How are we arranging that?” I asked.

“
Well, old son, Nicki and I would like to stay together, but if that doesn't suit you we'll do it some other way.”

“
David, it is all right with me,” whispered Marijke. “We mustn't make more difficulty for House and Nicki. Is this agreeable for you?”

“
Of course, but I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. It's not expected, you know.”

“
Shhh,” she said, putting her hand on my mouth, then answered House. “This is fine for us, too, House. We all go in.”

The car was in a perfect spot at the back of the house, for the trees were a natural screen even for the house. We entered through a large kitchen with a huge table in the center of the floor. It was full of charm, with an old cooking fireplace on one wall, the whole room decorated in blue and white to match the Delft tiles which lined it.

“Marijke and David, this is
Madame
Marique
,” said House.

“
Welcome to my house,” she smiled. “I am honoured to have you as my guests. I will show you your rooms, and then how would you like a cup of Belgian chocolate before you retire?”

Of course we agreed, and
Madame
Marique
then led us upstairs to a small sitting room with bedrooms on either side.

“
You may choose between you,” she stated, “and then come down for your chocolate. The bathroom is just there, beside that bedroom. The plumbing is old, but there is plenty of hot water.”

“
Marijke, you choose for us,” I said. Then to
Madame
Marique
, “Is there a telephone I may use to call England? I would place a collect call.”

“
But of course. Please come with me.”

She led the way back downstairs, then turned left at the foot to show me a small sitting room.

“There is a telephone here, and I will close the two doors so you will have privacy.” She smiled at me.

“
Merci
,
madame
.”

“
Avec
plaisir
,
monsieur
.”

When she had gone I took out the number Hammond had given me, picked up the handset to wait for the operator, and hoped she spoke English. I needn't have worried. The call went straight through, and I heard the number ringing.

“'Oo shall I say is calling,
m'sieu
?”

Oh Lord.
“Tell them it's Mr. Minstrel, operator, and that it is an emergency.”

She did so, and in no time I heard Hammond's voice.

“Hello, Minstrel, I was hoping to hear from you,” he said pleasantly. “I understand you had a bit of a problem earlier today. Where are you calling from?”

“
Belgium. A little guest house called
l'Auberge
Marique
in a village called
Bikschote
. The phone number is 49-33-76. I don't know the area code.”

“
No matter. Do you still have the item you started out with, by any chance? Or did that disappear in the confusion?”

“
I have it, and the other one as well.”

“
You have them both?”

“
Yes.”

“
Minstrel, you have saved us no end of trouble. Now, I've been on to our office in Paris all day, and through our contacts in the SDECE I think the police alert will be cancelled by tomorrow morning. I won't ask how you did it, but getting to Belgium was exactly the right thing to do. What time are you intending to return home?”

“
The ferry closest to 0900 Belgian time.”

“
There's one at that time exactly. After you board I'll have someone meet you. Give him an envelope with both items. It will save you any problem from then on.”

“
How will I know him?”

“
He will say 'Is this your own car, sir, or one on hire?’ to which you will respond, 'I would never dream of hiring one', and he will countersign, 'Then you are indeed a fortunate man'. When you get in to London, call me from a public phone. I must see you tomorrow afternoon. I'll tell you where at that time. I know what you must be thinking, but I can assure you that I had no idea that things would go so wrong. I would never have done that to you if I had had the slightest suspicion.” He paused. “A lot of people owe you a tremendous amount for your actions. Please remember that.”