The Alien (17 page)

Boris was then asked to repeat what he had already said in the Brentwoods' house. He did so, very briefly, neither altering nor adding anything at all. When he had finished one of the senior men said, “You've managed to stir up rather an unusual amount of trouble, both for yourself and us, in a very short space of time, Mr. Sudenic.''

“I am sorry,'' Boris answered, “for your inconvenience. But I do not apologize. The trouble, as you call it, is not from me. Too many people interest themselves in my affairs.''

“You can hardly blame them,'' said the other senior man, mildly.

“I blame them,'' retorted Boris, “and I am surprised. My countrymen who live here – they have no political importance, but they do not accept this.''

“It might be said equally well of you, yourself,'' suggested Carfax. “You also are an exile, though as an agent of undecided allegiance you are rather exceptional.''

“Well put, John,'' said the first man. He turned briskly to Boris. “Now, Mr. Sudenic, I will speak bluntly. We don't know exactly what part you took in that little brush near Paddington and we don't very much care. But we don't intend to have inter-Iron-Curtain feuds disturbing the Queen's Peace in this country. In other words we are not going to accept you as a permanent resident.''

“That I did not expect,'' said Boris, not at all moved by the ultimatum.

“On the other hand,'' said the second senior, “we have no intention of throwing you to the wolves. Up to a point you've solved a number of puzzles that've stumped us so far.''

“
I
have?'' asked Boris, genuinely surprised.

“Yes,
you
. Unintentionally, I have no doubt. That must be a new experience for you.''

As Boris made no answer to this, he went on, “Up to a point we would like to help you, since you have been of assistance to us.''

Boris finished considering the situation.

“You have checked with Ericson,'' he said. “Now I understand.'' He smiled suddenly. “There is the little matter of—''

“Fifty quid,'' said Carfax. “It will be taken care of.''

“Thank you.''

“We will help you,'' went on the senior man, quite as if there had been no interruption, “provided you guarantee not to get into any more brawls; not to concern yourself with passing information and so on, to or with any of your dubious contacts, before you leave this country. Where d'you intend to go?''

The question came with no alteration in the tone of voice and no preceding pause. But Boris had been interrogated far too often, in similarly comfortable, as well as in brutal circumstances, to be caught by it.

“I have told Mr. Carfax,'' he said at once, with a candid look in John's direction. “I, too, think England is perhaps too – populated – too crowded – for me. I have friends I write to in America.''

“Yes. Your U.S. friend agrees he is trying to help you. But he is very doubtful if he will succeed.''

“He is very rich. That means power in America.''

“Perhaps not to the extent needed in your case. We think, Mr. Sudenic, that you must not rely on this, but think of alternatives. Your present permit lasts until the middle of August. It will not be renewed. You must be prepared to leave the country by then.''

“Oh yes,'' agreed Boris. “I must leave before August.''

The others exchanged glances.

“I imagine you have given fairly short notice at Sørensen's?'' Carfax suggested.

“Sørensen's.'' Boris reflected, then spoke. “Yes, I resign today as I told you. Today, I finish.'' He got to his feet, smiling all round and holding out his hand to the senior man. “You will forgive me. I have to return to arrange my papers at the office. Also I have not yet eaten.''

They all shook hands with him. A secretary appeared to show him out.

“Well, I'm damned!'' Carfax said, as the door closed behind him.

The senior man picked up the telephone receiver and dialled a number on the outside line.

Boris walked out into the sunshine, wondering if his last piece of near-boasting had been an indiscretion or would have the desired effect. He could not tell, so it was no use worrying.

It was not until he had nearly reached Wellington Place that he began to worry and that not on account of his recent interview. Happening to look back as he passed the Underground entrance in Trafalgar Square he saw emerging from it a figure he recognized. The man's face was turned away from him, staring at the on-coming traffic. Though he moved to the kerb at a pedestrian crossing, he made no attempt to use it. Before he turned his head in Boris's direction the latter moved on again.

But he knew he had been seen as he passed the Underground entrance and he guessed what was likely to follow. His only hope lay in reaching Stephen's club near Wellington Place before the trap was sprung. Therefore, until he reached it, he must continue at the same pace, as if his intention was to cross into the Haymarket or Lower Regent Street.

It was a nerve-racking hundred yards. There were no shop-windows beside him or opposite to mirror the passers-by behind him. Tall, solid buildings on the shady side of the street, with, at this hour, very few people on the pavement. The crowds, such as they were, would be in St. James's Park on the grass or in deck-chairs. The tourists with their cameras would be drifting down the Mall towards Buckingham Palace. He felt very much alone and thoroughly frightened.

At last he drew level with the steps of the club. He shot up them at speed, not daring to look back until he had passed the door and announced to the porter that Commander Lang was expecting him. Then, turning, he looked out through the glass door. Three men had come together on the pavement outside; one of them was the individual he had recognized. A car drew up beside them; they got in and drove away.

Stephen greeted Boris impatiently.

“You've been a hell of a time,'' he said. “What's cooking?''

Boris told him the unexpected news from Sørensen's, and said he felt he had to see Carfax in consequence. There was no time to ring him up; he had to go to Whitehall immediately. Nothing was settled, but he did not expect that.

“I bet they don't want you to stay here,'' Stephen said, complacently.

“You are not complimentary, but that is true.''

“Obvious. A cuckoo in the nest. Everything you do and say is far too definite for our present rulers. They are walking on a tightrope and only making themselves unpopular for it.''

“A tightrope is quite safe if you have the skill. Besides, I am in favour of compromise. It is not natural to me, but I have learned its value.''

“The hard way,'' said Stephen, becoming serious.

“As you say. Let us not talk of my interview – especially not here. This place should be filled by none but loyal men, only one can never be sure.''

“Careful,'' said Stephen. “I wouldn't like to have to dot you one as you're my guest, but there are some things you can't say, even to me.''

Boris sighed. Sometimes Stephen's immaturity made him sad.

“I will tell you what has just happened as I arrive here,'' he said. “It will amuse you.''

On the contrary, it gave Stephen much concern. He began to talk about police protection, about driving the enemy into the open and exposing him, about arranging a counter-ambush.

“No use,'' said Boris. “I have promise to have no – brawls they called it. Listen, Stephen. Are you free this afternoon? And have you a car here?''

“Answer to both in the affirmative.''

“Then I will explain.''

The outcome of this was that Stephen drove Boris to the offices of the Baltic Trading Company and being lucky enough to find a free parking meter was able to leave the car and go back to wait for him. The two hours were nearly up and Stephen's patience almost exhausted by the time Boris rejoined him.

“If you'd been any later I'd have had to drive round and perhaps lose the meter by the time I got back to it.''

“I am sorry. My colleagues interrupt me to say good-bye. Mr. Sørensen's secretary, Margrethe Olsen—''

“The ash-blonde?''

“Pale gold, not ash. That is grey. We arrange a river trip on the Thames. For Sunday afternoon. She is sad that I go.''

“Now, now,'' Stephen admonished. “None of this Casanova stuff. Ann, Louise, now Margrethe—''

“But no,'' said Boris, very seriously, as they drove away. “I am not Casanova. I like women – almost all women – very, very much. But I love only one at a time. At present it is Louise.''

“You're hopeless!'' Stephen laughed. “Where to, now? I promised to pick up Ann about this time.'' He glanced at his watch. “Christ, yes! I'm late.''

“May I come with you?'' Boris asked. “To explain why I keep you. I must talk to you, Stephen – and to Ann. It is for my future, a plan I make. Will she be angry if I come with you? I think there is not much time for me.''

“Of course she won't. We can all go to her place. None of your would be kidnappers know where Ann hangs out, surely?''

“I hope not. If it was not – urgent—''

“Urgent, my foot! And you going to lounge about in a punt all Sunday afternoon!''

Boris laughed, but somehow Stephen thought, puzzled, there was a hollow sound to it. He was beginning to feel uneasy about Boris. He was a splendid chap, of course, but some of the things he said went too near the bone. He didn't want Ann mixed up in anything risky. Perhaps Boris was going to turn out a bit of a liability, after all. He seemed to know such very extraordinary people.

Ann, pleased to see them both, showed signs of no such misgivings. But she took Boris's predicament very seriously.

“We'll have to look after you,'' she said. “Obviously it isn't safe for you to be around alone.''

“Will they try something again?'' Stephen asked, frowning. “Surely not at once?''

“Who can say? It may be tomorrow – the next day – anytime.''

“Will you be working tomorrow?'' Ann asked. “Steve has to go back to Portsmouth. Don't you, darling?''

He nodded, foreseeing what would follow.

“Well, I've promised to go to my people for the week-end. It's not too far from London, in the Chilterns, beyond High Wycombe. Will you come down with me for lunch and tea? I can drive you down and put you on a train to come back. Do say yes.''

“I shall be pleased and honoured,'' Boris answered.

“Then I'll pick you up from your flat about eleven. Unless you'll be at your office.''

“No. I leave Sørensen's today.''

“That's all right, then. Have we got your address?''

“Stephen has it.''

“And now,'' the latter said, rather irritably, “perhaps you'll let Boris tell us what he came here to explain. His plans for how and when he can leave this country.''

“Oh!'' said Ann, delightedly. But looking from one to the other of their solemn faces, held her peace and let them get on with it.

The next morning, with all due protocol and the heavy cynicism so characteristic of their usual approach, the Soviet Government, through its embassy in Britain, demanded the extradition of a former seaman, now living in London, for the crime of theft from a Russian trawler while she was anchored during bad weather in Higlett Bay off the Yorkshire coast.

The name of Boris Sudenic being already familiar, the request took a fairly rapid upward flight, gathering Colin on its way because after all it was he who saw the fellow directly he had landed.

“Find anything valuable on him when he landed?'' Colin was asked, and could only shake his head and declare, not for the first time, that the man had been soaked to the skin, had been attended by his own man, Ogden, and that if Ogden had seen anything unusual that Sudenic was carrying he would have noticed it when he helped him to strip and dress again in borrowed clothes. Also Ogden would have been certain to report it.

“What's he supposed to have pinched, anyway?'' Colin demanded.

“Money, it says, in British currency. And weapons, unspecified.''

“
British
currency? That's a bit fishy, isn't it? Bit of a giveaway on their part?''

“Not particularly. The skipper might be carrying foreign currency of several kinds for use in refuelling, buying necessary stores and so on.''

“I thought trawlers were supplied by a mother ship that sits among them at sea while they fish and observes our radar or whatever it is they do.''

“So they are. The whole thing is bogus, of course. They intend to have him or at any rate put every obstacle in our way to granting him asylum. If they had any conception of the British character they would have known this would have an exactly opposite effect.''

“Well, as far as I know he is not a thief, whatever else he is.''

“Keep it under your hat at present.''

“Will the Russians?''

“Who can say? It won't help them to give it to the Press, but it's quite on the cards.''

“Shouldn't he be warned?''

“I imagine he has been already.''

Colin was worried by this conversation. He wanted Boris to hear what had happened because it might induce the man to go away. The longer he stayed in England the worse it would be for Margaret and himself. They had patched up their lamentable quarrel; they had avoided another outbreak. But this kind of truce was more damnable than an open fight. He would have to tell Margaret, sooner or later, because if anything happened to Boris and she discovered that he had done nothing to help him he would be lost for ever as far as she was concerned.

Having tortured himself to no purpose for a couple of hours Colin rang up John Carfax and put his problem, or rather the part of it relating to Boris, before him.