Palestine…”
“Berlin?”
He nodded. “Buying intelligence. Using the old networks set up by the SS and SD.
They argue that we’re all on the same side against the commies.”
Light dawned. “Mulder? Eve’s old boss was on the payroll?”
Cassells nodded and gulped at his beer.
“That’s why they’re still following her?” I asked.
“Her and her new pals.”
“Irgun?”
“Yanks don’t want to lose any more of their agents.”
“Why are you telling me this, Gerry?”
He lit another smoke and gathered himself up again. “Because it stinks! It bloody stinks. Can’t change my spots. Lost good men and women to bloody Nazis.
Now we’re supposed to protect ’em. Well, I won’t. Wilson can if he wants. But not me. Time I retired. Thinking of buying a pub. Down in Devon. Got my eye on a place. Noss Mayo. Little village by the sea…”
“Gerry! What about Wilson? What’s he up to? Is it about Eve?”
“She shouldn’t have gone after Mulder.” He shook his head.
“Gerry!”
“Wilson is MI5’s link man with the Yanks. He does it with relish. Loves the power. Likes how they operate. Action, that’s what it takes! he keeps telling me. Not for me. Not my cup of tea.”
“What’s he up to?” I pleaded.
“He put your girlfriend in a little flat, yes? Battersea, isn’t it? So he can keep an eye. And on you. And if necessary…”
He paused, then like some old ham actor, he drew his finger across his throat.
“He wouldn’t dare! She was a British agent. Not even Wilson…” I forced myself to be calm. “What can I do?”
Cassells shrugged. “There’s nowhere safe, old chap. But I’d get her away, get her out of that flat. No need to make it easy for him.”
I left him there, still nursing his drink and looking like the saddest man in the world. I paced round St James’s Park, my mind in turmoil. By the lake in the evening sunshine, Cassells’ tale sounded like the ravings of a lunatic. I couldn’t, didn’t want to believe what he told me. But it all had the ring of truth. In vino veritas. And behind all this fear and craziness stood my bкte noire, Wilson. Cassells described him as a sort of go-between for the American Central Intelligence Agency and British Secret Intelligence. But I knew Wilson.
He’d be enjoying this. Sadists need victims. Like what he did to Eve in prison.
Now he’d be waiting his chance to twist the knife. Personally. Away from official eyes.
I thought of the stray moggy I fed. I found it with a mouse one day. It didn’t kill it. Not right away. Just caught it, roughed it up, let it go, and caught it again. Time after time. Until the mouse was so terrified and torn it couldn’t move. It just sat there trembling until its heart gave out. The sun dropped behind the trees and a cool wind whipped across the pond. A sudden dread filled me. I walked smartly out of the park.
It was dark by the time I got to her building. I walked slowly, using the odd parked car for cover. There was no one around. No sign of watchers. I looked up to see if I could see her window. It was hard to pick out one from the identical frames and curtains. The one I decided was hers was in darkness. I took a risk and walked over to her front door. I buzzed several times but got no reply.
“Forgotten your key, dear?”
I turned round and found myself gazing down on a bent old woman struggling with her string bag and a stick to climb the four stairs. I stepped down and helped her up.
“We’ve just moved in,” I lied. “My wife said the buzzer wasn’t working this morning.”
“Happens all the time. I was telling the caretaker only the other morning. The milk is always late. And the dirt! Dear me, the dirt. Gets into the hall and everywhere. Never swept.”
She dug around in her bag and finally pulled her purse out. She found her key and let me in. We shared a lift up to her floor and I carried her bag to her front door. I left her once she’d put her light on, and walked to the fire exit and down the two floors to level three. I eased the fire door and peered into the hall. It was dark apart from a single bare bulb glowing in the ceiling. I paced my way quietly to her door and put my ear against the wood. I could hear nothing. But under the ill-fitting door was a faint bar of light.
I tapped gently on the door, then louder. “Eve? Eve, it’s me, Danny.” Nothing. I kept up the tapping for a bit then drew out the two slender wires I keep in my top pocket. I slid one into the lock and felt for movement. It didn’t take long.
My SOE instructor would have been proud of me – though he was probably back in the nick again.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Eve? Are you there? Don’t worry.”
I stopped dead. It didn’t look as though she would hear me. The source of the light was the bedroom. It illuminated the chaos. Chairs tipped over, couch on its side and cup and teapot smashed on the floor. I walked into the bedroom expecting the worst. But there was no body, no blood. Thank god. Her few clothes were scattered on the floor and across the tumbled bed sheets. Eve hadn’t gone willingly. But where? And was she still alive?
I left her flat in a cold fury. Where would Wilson take her? Back to prison? But the scene in her flat wasn’t caused by an official visit. The boys in blue wouldn’t have needed to turn the place over to get her to come with them. Waving a warrant would have done the trick. In her frail state she would have gone with them like a lamb to… I didn’t finish the thought.
I stormed out the building, practically running. Bastards, bloody bastards! Why couldn’t they leave her alone? My panting lungs turned to near-sobs until I pulled up short in the middle of Battersea Bridge and forced myself to take deep breaths. The lights were coming on along the Embankment and making the trees glow in silhouette. Slowly I let the river seep into my mind. Some calmness returned. I had to think. Had to plan.
An idea came to me and I shoved it away. Crazy ideas come too readily to me. But it wouldn’t leave me alone. So I hopped on a bus heading back to Lambeth and changed to one for Camberwell Green. It was just nine o’clock. The George would be open for another hour. With luck, one or two of the lads might be around.
TWENTY SIX
OK, it was a stupid idea. But it seems the lads were as far round the twist as me. They knew all about Wilson. I’d ranted about him over many a beer. How he’d used his position to get free access to Soho girls and how he’d beaten and abused them. How he’d nearly killed me. And what he’d done to Eve, the plucky girl who’d saved their skins in the warehouse robbery. If there was a way of paying her back, they were ready for it. They even offered to do it for free.
As luck would have it, Fast Larry was skulking in the bar. I grabbed him and put a message through to Pauli Gambatti. Larry lived up to his nickname. Quicker than the phone. Next morning one of Pauli’s minions dropped by my office. This time he held a key in his hand, not a gun. It seemed Mr Gambatti was delighted to help. Wilson’s reputation had preceded him. Furthermore Mr Gambatti graciously acceded to my request on the condition that I consider working for him. I said I’d give it serious thought. Why not?
I then put a call into Cassells. He gave me short shrift when I finally got through. Told me there was nothing he could do. And certainly nothing I could do. He couldn’t tell me anything, and no, he didn’t know whether she was alive or dead.
My last call was to Scotland Yard. I asked for Detective Superintendent Wilson.
I gave my name. I went through three pairs of hands before Wilson’s sneering voice came on the line.
“What do you want, McRae?”
“I want to meet. It won’t take long. I have something to tell you.”
“Let me guess. You want to give yourself up. You want to confess to being an accomplice to the murder of a certain German official? Or how about the murder of a certain man in the Angel pub in Rotherhithe. Or how about the spate of murders of prostitutes in…”
