Dark Side of the Street

She had spoken with a slight Austrian accent and as she leaned forward, he got a clear look at the cloudy opalescent eyes.

'I was wondering if you could spare me a few moments of your time.'

'You wish to consult me professionally?'

'That's right.'

'I only take clients by appointment. I have to be very careful. The law is most strict in these matters.'

'I'm only passing through,' he said. 'I'd really be most obliged. You were very highly recommended.'

'I see.' She appeared to hesitate. 'Your name?'

'Is of no importance,' he said. 'Only my destination.'

'And what would that be?'

'Babylon!'

There was a moment of stillness and then she moved back slightly. 'I think you'd better come in, young man.'

The hall was oak panelled and very pleasant with hyacinths growing in a bowl on a polished table that stood before a long gilt mirror. She closed the door, releasing her hold on the Dobermann and the dog moved to Chavasse's side.

'This way,' she said and walked to a door at the other end of the hall.

The room was obviously a study with books lining the walls, but a cheerful fire burned in an Adam grate and through the diamond paned window, he glimpsed trees through the rain and a river beyond.

The woman sat on the other side of a small round table and indicated the vacant chair opposite. Chavasse took it and the Dobermann subsided on the floor, its eyes fixed on his unwinkingly.

'Who are you, young man?' Rosa Hartman said.

'Does that matter?'

She shrugged. 'Perhaps not. Give me your hand.'

Chavasse was momentarily bewildered. 'Might I ask why?'

'For me, it is always necessary. I am clairvoyant, surely you were aware of that?'

He took her hand, holding it lightly. It was cool and flaccid, making him remember for no accountable reason, his Breton grandmother, clean linen sheets, rosemary and lavender and then she tightened her grip and he was aware of a sudden tingle as from a minor electric shock. The strange thing was that suddenly, her eyes widened and she reached out and ran the fingers of her free hand lightly over his face.

'Is anything wrong?' he asked.

She shook her head, still frowning. 'I expected something a little different, that's all.' She held his hand a moment longer and then released it. 'Who sent you here?'

'Does that matter?'

'No, you have the password, but I was not expecting you.'

'Then you can't help?'

She spread her hands in a vaguely continental gesture. 'No arrangements have been made to take you to the next stage. There is no transport ready.'

'I have transport.'

'I see-you are alone?'

He hesitated. 'Yes.'

The strange creamy eyes seemed to gaze through him and beyond so that he knew instantly that she was aware that he had lied.

'You can help me then?'

'Yes-yes, I think so. At least I can show you where to go. Whether that will give you what you are looking for is something else again.'

It was as if in some strange way she was trying to warn him and he smiled. 'I'll take my chances.'

'Then go to the desk behind you and open the top right hand drawer beneath the pigeon holes. You will find several copies of the same visiting card. Take one. I should add that I do not know what is on the card nor do I wish to know.'

Chavasse got up and the dog stirred uneasily. He ignored it, walked to the desk and opened the drawer she had indicated. The visiting card was edged in black and carried the legend: Long Barrow Crematorium and House of Rest-Hugo Pentecost-Director in neat Gothic script. The phone number was Phenge 239.

'Now please go, young man,' Rosa Hartman said.

Chavasse paused, frowning, the card between his fingers. There was something wrong here-something very wrong and then the dog stood up and growled softly. Chavasse took a cautious step backwards. If there was one dog on earth capable of killing a man, it was a Dobermann Pincher. Once launched on target, only a machine gun would stop it.

'You can let yourself out,' she said. 'Karl will see you to the door.'

The Dobermann moved forward at once as if it understood every word she said and Chavasse took the hint. 'I'd like to thank you, Madam Hartman. You've been of very real assistance to me.'

'That remains to be seen, young man,' she said calmly. 'Now go.'

There was a public telephone box at the end of the lane and he went inside and dialled Bureau headquarters in London quickly. He was through within a matter of seconds and asked for Mallory. A moment later, Janet Frazer's voice sounded on the line.

'I'm afraid Mr. Mallory isn't available. This is his secretary speaking. Can I help?'

'Janet-Paul here.' There was a sudden sharp intake of breath at the other end. 'Where is he?'

'Foreign Office-a NATO intelligence conference. Where are you?'

'Shrewsbury and hot on the trail. Ever heard of a place called Phenge?'

'No, but I can soon look it up for you.' She was back within a couple of minutes. 'Just outside Gloucester.'

'That's where we're making for now. The whole thing's going perfectly so far. From now on I must have Mallory standing by. Next time I ring, it could be to give him the news he's been waiting for and I'll probably only have seconds.'

'I'll tell him.'

'Good girl. I'll have to be off.'

'Look after yourself.'

'Don't worry about me. I'll challenge the gods and make a date with you for next Wednesday. We'll do a show and go on to the Saddle Room afterwards.'

'I'll look forward to that.'

He dropped the receiver and hurried along the road through the heavy rain. When he reached the lay-by, the girl was sitting in the van and Youngblood was standing by the truck smoking. He moved to meet Chavasse quickly.

'What happened?'

'Nothing much. She gave me this card.'

Youngblood read it and looked up quickly. 'Was she on the level?'

'How in the hell would I know?'

'Then we could be walking into trouble.'

'Naturally.'

Youngblood nodded thoughtfully. 'On the other hand they're not going to scream for a copper, are they? That's the last thing they'll want to do.'

'Exactly,' Chavasse said. 'Which makes it a nice private fight.'

There was an old A.A. book in the Ford and Youngblood leafed through it quickly. 'Phenge is just outside Gloucester,' he announced. 'That's about seventy-five miles. We could be there in a couple of hours if we used the Ford.'

'Just what I was thinking,' Chavasse said. 'I noticed a gate barring a cart track into a wood a little way back. If we ran the truck in there, it could stand for a day or two before anyone discovered it, especially in this weather.'