Get Wallace! (4 page)

‘I don't know who he was, or why he should try to shoot me,' he remarked quietly, ‘but I do know that you have saved my life, Adrian, and that I am very, very proud of you.'

Instinctively the little chap squared his shoulders. His eyes gleamed with pleasure, but were quickly clouded by a look of fear.

‘Oh, Daddy,' he cried, ‘do you think he will try again, when – when—'

‘When you are not near to save me?' smiled Sir Leonard. ‘No; you needn't worry about that. He'll probably be caught and, even if he isn't, he'll have to go into hiding, because the police will be on the look-out for him. Where's Mother?'

‘She is waiting in the car with Auntie Phyllis. She sent me to tell you they were ready.'

‘She knows nothing about this?'

Adrian shook his head.

‘Then we won't tell her, will we? This must be our secret, old chap. We don't want to alarm her.'

‘I won't say anything, Daddy, but perhaps Uncle Bill will.'

‘I'll ask him not to. Run along to the car now, and say we'll be coming in a minute. And mind! Don't let Mother see any signs of distress on your face, or she'll guess something has happened. She's very clever, you know.'

‘You're sure you'll be all right?'

‘Quite.'

After hesitating a moment, the little fellow ran off, making his way through the crowd, mostly composed of women and customs officials, who had not joined in the chase, and had been watching father and son with curious, and, in some cases, fearful eyes. Sir Leonard walked rapidly towards the dock, where he met the disappointed pursuers returning. Brien was in earnest conversation with a man who proved to be a police inspector in plain clothes. He had apparently been told who the intended victim was, for he showed marked deference on being presented to Sir Leonard.

‘He got away in a speedboat, which was apparently in waiting, sir,' he explained. ‘But I have dispatched a man to send out calls to all police in the vicinity of the river. He was making down the Solent when last seen, and is being pursued by some colleagues of mine in another boat, while several other speedboats are taking up the chase. I think we'll get him,' he added confidently.

‘Recognise him?' asked Sir Leonard of Brien.

The latter shook his head.

‘I've never seen him before. He's a greasy-looking specimen; looks like a Maltese.'

‘A Maltese!' mused Wallace. ‘I did not know I had offended any of that race. He was probably hired by someone else to do
the job. You'll find the bullet embedded in that packing-case over there, Inspector. You'd better collect it as evidence. I'm not usually vindictive, but this time I am. I'll be very disappointed if you don't lay the fellow by the heels.'

‘We'll do our best, sir.'

‘Let me know when you have him. I'll come down. I rather fancy a little conversation with him myself.'

Nodding to the police officer, he strode through the curious crowd accompanied by Brien.

‘You owe your life to Adrian,' observed the latter softly. ‘The little chap showed courage and resource which many men would have lacked.'

Sir Leonard turned, and looked at him. Brien's eyebrows rose slightly as he noted the expression on his companion's face.

‘Do you realise, Bill,' muttered Wallace, ‘that if that bullet had been aimed at my heart instead of at my head, it would, in all probability, have got Adrian? That's the reason I'm so anxious for the police to capture the fellow.'

Brien nodded understandingly.

‘I wonder if he has anything to do with the people who seem to have kidnapped Cousins,' he mused. ‘They may have heard that you were due home, and sent down a man to put you out of action before you could butt in on their game.'

‘Possibly you've hit it. I only hope so for, whether the police catch him or not, I shall then have a chance of settling my account with him, or with those who sent him. There's the car. Not a word to the ladies about this business.'

‘Of course not, but what about Adrian?'

‘He won't speak. I told him not to. By Jove! look at him playing round the car as though nothing had happened.' He smiled
proudly, and added: ‘Bless the boy, he has the right stuff in him.'

‘A chip off the old block,' murmured Brien. A somewhat fatuous remark, perhaps, but nevertheless sincere.

‘What a time you men have been,' commented Molly as they strode up. ‘Can't you gossip in the car? You seem to forget that today is the twentieth of December, not midsummer's day, and that even Billy's luxurious new car is not a hot-house.'

‘Sorry, dear,' returned Wallace lightly, climbing in beside his friend, and sending the protesting Adrian into the tonneau with his mother and Phyllis. ‘Billy's taken to road-mending while I've been away, and finds it suits him so well that he is thinking of handing in his resignation.'

‘It's the first I've heard of it,' laughed Phyllis.

‘Beg pardon, sir,' came a voice.

A short, stout man with a round, red face to which twinkling blue eyes and a snub nose imparted a delightfully cheery expression, stood respectfully by the car. He wore a very neat serge suit, neat bowler, and neat patent leather shoes; in fact, everything about him was neat. This was Sir Leonard's confidential servant, an ex-naval seaman, who had been with him ever since taking his discharge, a man who had made himself so necessary for the welfare of the Wallace family that he had become an institution and was regarded more as a friend than a servant.

‘What do you want, Batty?' asked his employer.

The ex-sailor jerked a thumb over his shoulder. His eyes glittered angrily.

‘I've just 'eard—' he began.

‘You mustn't believe everything you hear,' interrupted Sir Leonard sharply, accompanying his words with a frown of warning. ‘Is all the luggage on the train?'

‘Yes, sir. Saw it all packed aboard meself.'

‘Then you'd better take your seat lest the train goes without you.'

‘Aye, aye, sir, but I'd like to say as 'ow—'

‘We'll take it as said, Batty. Are you ready, Bill? Then right away.'

‘You're very abrupt with the poor man all of a sudden,' remarked Molly, as the car sped towards the dock gates.

‘Not really,' returned Wallace, ‘but we can't hang about all day, while he makes observations. We're in a hurry.'

‘You did not seem to be in a hurry a short time ago,' was her sarcastic comment.

Adrian suddenly laughed a trifle hysterically.

‘What's the matter, darling?' his mother asked.

‘I – I was only thinking of something – funny, Mother,' he replied.

‘He's a little overwrought,' muttered Brien.

Sir Leonard nodded.

‘Will you stop at Smith's in Above Bar,' he requested. ‘I'll get him a book or a boy's journal to keep his mind occupied.'

On the way to London, Brien told Sir Leonard what he had learnt from General Warrington and the Air-Marshal concerning the conversation Cousins had had with them.

‘There seems no doubt that he was right,’ was Wallace’s comment, when he had heard all his assistant had to tell him.

He fell silent for some time, appearing to be occupied in studying the scenery. Despite the fact that it was shorn of the beauty which delights in spreading its cloak over the county of Hampshire during other seasons of the year, the countryside was still attractive. Mighty trees, most of them leafless, proudly raised their heads as though calling witness to their hardiness; others still retained a certain amount of foliage coloured with the warm tints of late autumn, a few evergreens combined with the rolling meadows to add that verdant touch which is so typical of the English country. Here and there they passed old-fashioned thatched cottages, nestling among the trees, made more fascinating and attractive by
contrast with the ugly, modern buildings which, erected on the virgin breast of nature, almost suggested sacrilege. They had passed through Basingstoke before Sir Leonard spoke again.

‘The impersonation must have been amazingly good to have taken in Cousins,’ he observed, ‘especially after he had discovered how the copies of the plans had been obtained.’

‘What impersonation?’ queried Brien in tones of surprise.

‘I have been wondering why Cousins suddenly changed his plans at Sittingbourne and, instead of catching the connection for Sheerness, walked out of the station, and entered a car which was waiting there. You made certain, I suppose, that he had a ticket for Sheerness?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then he must either have met somebody in the train, or on the platform at Sittingbourne, who influenced him to alter his arrangements.’

‘According to the collector, who seems to have been an observant sort of fellow, he actually went towards the local; then changed his mind, eventually handing over his ticket, and leaving the station. As far as we have been able to ascertain, he spoke to nobody on the platform at all.’

‘Yet to judge from the taxi driver’s story he entered a car of his own free will and apparently without hesitation. That shows that he knew it was there, and waiting for him. Of course he may have arranged for it to be there. In that case why did he take a ticket for Sheerness? It’s a bit of a puzzle, Billy.’

‘Bit of a puzzle! It seems a crazy enigma to me. Do you think that the man who impersonated the Air-Marshal and Warrington also impersonated someone Cousins knew, and deceived him so effectively that he accepted a lift?’

‘It looks like it.’

‘But how on earth could he have known that Cousins was going to Sheerness, where did he meet him, and how did he know him?’

‘Those are questions I am unable to answer at present.’

‘Another thing you must remember,’ went on Brien, ‘is the fact that Cousins was wearing a naval uniform which would render him inconspicuous in a train crowded with naval ratings, and in a place where sailors are as frequently seen as civilians.’

‘That’s true. But it is possible that Cousins made himself known to the man who kidnapped him.’

‘What!’ The car swerved violently, as Brien forgot the wheel in his surprise. ‘Why on earth should he do that?’

‘Because he recognised, or thought he recognised, a friend who would be of use to him in his investigations. The only man he would be likely to accost when engaged on a job of that sort would be one of us. Therefore, I am playing with the notion that one of us was impersonated. Cousins fell into the trap, and was kidnapped.’

‘But, man alive,’ protested Brien, ‘you are bestowing almost supernatural, or rather I should say satanic, powers on these people. We don’t move about under a halo of publicity with pictures in the papers, and all that sort of thing. How on earth can outsiders know us or anything about us?’

‘We’re up against a pretty big thing if I’m any judge,’ observed Wallace. ‘Men who have among their number fellows who can impersonate people like the Air-Marshal and the War Office Chief of Staff, walk boldly into their offices, and make copies of plans supposedly secreted in burglar-proof safes, are not ordinary. They must have a pretty complete organisation behind them. Meddling with affairs which they must know are bound to bring the Secret Service on their track, it is pretty certain that they first found out
a good deal about the Secret Service, and set a watch. Apart from that, have you forgotten how the triumph of Miles, Cousins, and Shannon in India, which ended incidentally with a popular double wedding, brought the three into an almost worldwide glow of publicity? Isn’t that the reason why we generally give Cousins and Shannon jobs where it doesn’t matter whether they are recognised or not?’

Brien nodded.

‘I forgot that for the moment,’ he confessed. ‘I remember your remark at the time that their usefulness as Secret Service agents was badly impaired.’

‘Of course that was three years ago, but people of the type we are generally up against always remember anything that is likely to turn out useful later. Cousins is probably a marked man, and – by Jove!’

The sudden exclamation with which he interrupted himself, caused Brien to glance at him sharply. In consequence the car swerved again, bringing a duet of protest from within. Billy glanced round with a grin.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘Leonard becomes so dashed interesting at times that I forget I’m driving.’

‘Shall I do it for you?’ enquired Phyllis sweetly; ‘then you two can come inside and gossip to your hearts’ content.’

‘No, thanks, dear. I’ll be careful in future.’

‘Mind you are,’ begged Molly; ‘we’ll soon be getting among the traffic, and I’ve no ambition to return from America only to be killed or maimed for life in a car smash.’

‘Why did you give that sudden exclamation?’ demanded Billy of his companion in aggrieved tones.

‘The significance of my own remark struck me rather forcibly, that’s all. I was saying that Cousins is probably a marked man,
was going to add that it is very likely Shannon is too.’ He waited as though expecting Brien to make some comment. When the other remained silent, he went on: ‘Apparently the same idea does not occur to you. Taking into consideration the fact that Cousins and Shannon are publicly the two best known men in the Secret Service, isn’t it probable that they have been watched and studied? Then, as soon as this organisation or gang, or whatever you wish to call it, thought its activities were likely to bring the Secret Service on its track, precautions were taken. Cousins goes to Sheerness, or rather gets as far as Sittingbourne. There he walks into a trap already set for any Secret Service man who might go nosing round. He sees Shannon on the station and accosts him. He is invited into the car, goes innocently, and there you are.’

‘Good Lord! You mean to say—’

‘I mean to say that the man who impersonated the Chief of Staff and the Air-Marshal quite possibly impersonated Shannon also. You said the fellow in the car was big and burly; well, so is Shannon.’

‘But this man was not seen on the platform.’

‘You mean nobody has volunteered the information that such an individual was seen. Well, we’ll make certain of that. I’ll go down to Sheerness or rather Sittingbourne myself, and conduct enquiries along those lines.’ He chuckled. ‘I may even meet the sham Captain Shannon myself, though that’s not very probable. I don’t think the head of an organisation showing such skill and resource would blunder like that.’

‘He’s blundered pretty badly in one respect anyhow,’ observed Brien.

‘How?’

‘Why, in dispatching all his communications from Sheerness,
especially as we seem to have proved that he is actually somewhere in that neighbourhood.’

‘That’s true. It certainly seems a slip, but it can’t be. There must be something behind it. The brain that has conceived all that we know, or guess at, wouldn’t make an error of such rank idiocy.’

‘Very often,’ declared Brien somewhat sententiously, ‘it’s the little things that trip people up. But seriously; do you really believe that business about Shannon being impersonated? It seems so utterly fantastic to me.’

‘Perhaps so, but it is the best of several notions that have occurred to me. It all fits in so admirably. Shannon is in Rome on embassy duty; has been for some time. These people possibly know that. They also possibly know that he is likely to be there for some time longer. There is no particular secrecy about his present job.’

‘But how could they have known that Cousins would travel down by that particular train? How; in fact, could they have known that he was searching for them?’

‘Perhaps he was watched; they may even have picked up your wireless message; guessed what it meant; and set a watch at once. But what is far more likely; they knew nothing about Cousins’ activities at all, and the station at Sittingbourne was kept under observation merely as a precautionary measure.’

‘What about the road? We might have sent somebody down by car.’

‘You may be sure the road is under surveillance as well, and, if their headquarters is on the Isle of Sheppey, the watch is being kept on the bridge.’

‘Then you think we are up against something big?’

‘Billy, I think we’re up against the biggest thing we’ve struck for a long time, bigger perhaps than we realise yet.’

Major Brien gave a deep sigh.

‘Well, I’m jolly glad you’re home. If I’d had to tackle it alone I should have made an awful mess of it. As it is,’ he added rather despondently, ‘I’ve lost one of our best men. Cousins has probably been murdered by now.’

‘You aren’t responsible. Dash it all! If he has walked into a trap, it’s not your fault, and we all have to take our chances of life and death in the big game. I hope he hasn’t gone though. In many ways it would be almost impossible to replace him, and he’s such a darned good fellow. Oh, well, it’s no use getting despondent. You may be sure that, if Jerry can possibly hold on to life, he’ll do it.’

They spoke of other subjects for a while. Going through Camberley, memories of days gone by crowded through their minds, when, as cadets, they had worked and played together, eventually to pass out of the Royal Military College at the same time, as subalterns in the same regiment.

‘Happy days, Bill,’ sighed Sir Leonard.

‘Happy days,’ echoed his second in command.

They had reached the Brentford by-pass before Brien reverted to the subject which was uppermost in both their minds.

‘I’m beginning to feel convinced,’ he remarked, ‘that the attempt on your life at Southampton was instigated by the people who are behind this organised theft of national secrets. You have made me realise what a big thing it is, and if, as you suggest, they know so much about Shannon and Cousins, they’re bound to know you, and fear the consequences, if you take a hand in the game. You’ll have to keep your eyes skinned, old chap. They won’t throw in the sponge just because they’ve failed once.’

Sir Leonard shrugged his shoulders.

‘The Southampton affair was probably engineered by somebody
who has a grudge against me. I’m afraid there are quite a few of that type about.’

‘Carter is due back tomorrow from Turkey. Keep him with you as a bodyguard in case of any further danger. He’s a quick-witted fellow, and a splendid man in an emergency.’

Wallace laughed.

‘What do you take me for?’ he scoffed. ‘You’ll be asking me to wear a bullet proof waistcoat next.’

‘Not a bad notion,’ commented the other.

‘A damn silly idea,’ grunted Sir Leonard. ‘A bullet proof waistcoat would be wonderful protection against a bullet aimed at the skull, like the one that missed me this morning, wouldn’t it? What’s the matter with you, Bill? Are you getting premonitions or something?’

‘I’ve an uneasy feeling knocking round inside that I don’t like. Sounds absurd I know, but there it is.’

Sir Leonard eyed him with a smile, but he spoke seriously enough.

‘Look here, old man,’ he observed. ‘You and I have been in the game for fourteen or fifteen years now and, during that time, we’ve both been on the brink of eternity pretty often. In fact we’ve had some devilish narrow squeaks. You don’t think I’m going to start hedging myself round with a host of safety gadgets and precautions now, do you? I’ve quite a lot of faith in my lucky star. It’s seen me through up-to-date, and I’ll continue to trust in it. At any rate I’ve always been a fatalist, so have you – one has to be in this service. Look out!’

His sudden cry of warning was hardly necessary. Brien had already sensed the menace. They were passing the Chiswick Empire at the time, when a large car, driven at an absurdly reckless speed in
such traffic, overtook them; suddenly swerved towards them. Only Brien’s coolness and skill prevented a disaster. He swung the wheel over, at the same time jamming on the brakes. The car skidded on to the pavement scattering people in all directions, but doing no damage.

‘Keep going, Bill!’ came the level voice of Sir Leonard. ‘There may be someone waiting with a gun.’

Almost in the same movement as it had mounted the pavement, the car was in the road again, narrowly missing a young tree, had shot between a tram and a lorry, was going on its way as though nothing had happened. Behind could be heard the shouts and cries of frightened and angry people, a police whistle. Sir Leonard turned to soothe the startled women and Adrian in the tonneau, found them all indignant at the criminally reckless behaviour of the vehicle that had almost wrecked them, and was now lost in the distance.

‘People like that should be forbidden to own cars,’ cried the angry Phyllis.

‘They ought to be sent to penal servitude,’ declared Molly. ‘But why did you continue, Billy? It wasn’t your fault, and a policeman is blowing a whistle behind us as though he intends to burst his lungs.’

‘Didn’t want to be surrounded by a crowd of people all talking and telling lies together,’ he replied with a wink at his companion. ‘We’ll be held up soon enough.’

He was right. A policeman stopped them just as they were approaching Hammersmith. Wallace promptly handed him a card, which he scrutinised, whereupon, saluting smartly, he stepped back, and waved them on.