Henry squiring her around, too.” “I shall challenge him to a duel when we get to some suitably central European background — the atmosphere has to be right. I don’t need Maria’s ideas. All I want from her is her cooperation.
No point in discussing it with you until I have it.”
“No harm. When?”
“After dinner.”
“Where? Here?”
“Not here. It’s perfectly proper for my doctor to come and see me — anxiously caring for one of the circus’s prime properties. But, as you say — or as you infer from Carter’s antics with his bug-detector — it’s just possible that someone might be keeping a wary eye on me. I don’t want them keeping a wary eye on her, too.”
“Then I suggest her cabin.”
Bruno thought. “I’ll do that.”
Before dinner, Bruno went into the lounge bar, located Maria sitting by herself at a small corner table, sat beside her and ordered a soft drink. He said: “This is intolerable. Incredible. Maria Hopkins sitting alone.”
She said with some asperity: “And whose fault is that?”
“Never mine, surely?”
“I’m treated like a pariah, an outcast. There are lots of very nice men here who would love to buy me a drink and talk to me. But no, I’m the plague. The great Bruno might come in at any moment.” She brooded a bit. “Or Henry. He’s as bad. Not only is he the light and the joy of his uncle’s heart — and it would be well to remember that his uncle is the big white chief — he’s also developing a very intimidating line in scowls. The only person who doesn’t give a damn is that enormous friend of yours. Do you know that he calls me your ladylove?” “And are you? That’s what’s usually referred to as a keen, probing question.”
She treated his remark with silent disdain.
“Ah, well. And where is the rival for my lady-love’s hand tonight? I’ve just been talking about it with Dr Harper. Henry and I are going to fight a duel when we get to the Carpathians. You should come and watch. After all, it’s over you.” “Oh, do be quiet.” She looked at him for a long moment, smiled widely in spite of herself and put her hand on his. “What’s the masculine equivalent of ‘lady-love’?”
“There isn’t one or if there is I don’t think I’d like to hear it.
Where is Henry?”
“He’s gone sleuthing.” Subconsciously, she lowered her voice. “I think he’s watching someone or shadowing someone. Henry has spent a great deal of time these past two days following someone he swears is following me.” Surprisingly, Bruno was not amused. He said: “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t think it important. I didn’t take it seriously.”
“Didn’t? And now?”
“I’m just not sure.”
“Why should anyone be following you?”
“If I knew I’d tell you, wouldn’t I?”
“Would you?”
“Please.”
“Have you told Dr Harper?”
“No. That’s the point. There’s nothing to tell. I don’t like being laughed at. I think Dr Harper’s got his reservations about me, anyway. I don’t want him to think that I’m a bigger ninny that he already probably thinks I am.”
“This mystery shadower. He has a name?” “Yes. Wherry. A cabin steward. Small man, narrow face, very pale, narrow eyes, small black moustache.” “I’ve seen him. Your steward?”
“Mr Wrinfield’s.”
Bruno was momentarily thoughtful, then appeared to lose interest. He raised his glass. “I’d like to see you after dinner. Your cabin, if you please.”
She raised her glass and smiled. “And your good health, too.”
Dinner over, Bruno and Maria made no secret of the fact that they were leaving together. This was commonplace, now, and no longer called for the raised eyebrow. Some twenty seconds after their departure Henry rose and sauntered from the dining saloon, leaving by the opposite door. Once outside he quickened his pace, crossed over to the other side, moved aft, descended a companionway and reached the passenger accommodation. Bruno and Maria were about fifty feet ahead of him. Henry moved in behind the companionway and stood in shadow.
Almost at once a figure emerged, or partially emerged from a side passage about twenty feet away on the left. He peered along the main passageway, saw Bruno and Maria and quickly withdrew into cover again but not so quickly that Henry couldn’t recognize him. It was, unmistakably, Wherry. Henry experienced a very considerable degree of self-satisfaction. Wherry ventured another look. Bruno and Maria were just disappearing round a corner to their left. Wherry moved out and followed them. Henry waited until he, too, had disappeared from sight, then moved out in stealthy pursuit. He reached the left hand corner on soundless tip-toes, glanced round with one eye then immediately moved back into cover again. Wherry was less than six paces away, looking down a right-hand corridor. Henry didn’t have to be told what Wherry was looking at — Maria’s cabin was the fourth door down. When he looked again Wherry had vanished. Henry moved, took up the position Wherry had so recently occupied and did some more head-poking. Wherry was engaged in the undignified occupation of pressing his right ear hard against a cabin door. Maria’s cabin. Henry drew back and waited. He was in no hurry. Henry let thirty seconds pass then risked another look. The passageway was empty. Without haste Henry walked along the corridor, passed Maria’s cabin — he could hear the soft murmur of voices — reached the end and dropped down another companionway. He hadn’t spent two days so zealously — and, as he imagined, so unobtrusively — trailing Wherry without discovering where Wherry’s quarters were. That that was where he had gone Henry did not for a moment doubt.
Henry was right. Wherry had indeed gone to his cabin and was apparently so confident of himself that he had even left the door ajar. That there may have been some other reason for this apparent carelessness did not occur to Henry. Wherry was sitting with his back three-quarters turned to him, a pair of earphones, the lead of which led to a radio, clamped over his head. There was nothing unusual in this; Wherry, as did all stewards, doubled up with one of his mates, and as they were frequently on different shifts and slept at different times, the earphones insured that one could listen to the radio without disturbing the other’s sleep: it was standard practice on this and most passenger ships.
Maria sat on her cabin bed and stared at Bruno in shocked disbelief. Her face was drained of colour, leaving the eyes preternaturally huge. She said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper: “This is mad! It’s crazy! It’s suicidal!” “It’s all of that and a good deal else besides. But you have to appreciate that Dr Harper is in an impossible spot. As ideas go, it was an ingenious one, a desperate ingenuity, mind you, but there were no other options open to him, at least none that he could see.”
“Bruno!” She’d slipped off the bed and was on her knees beside his armchair, his left hand in both of hers: there was fear in her face and Bruno was uncomfortably aware that it wasn’t fear for herself. “You’ll be killed, you know you’ll be killed. Don’t. Please, please don’t! No, Bruno. Nothing’s worth your life, nothing! Oh, God, there isn’t even a chance.” He looked at her in mild surprise. “And all the time I thought you were a tough young CIA agent.”
“Well, I’m not. Tough, I mean.” There was a sheen of tears in her eyes.
Almost absently, he stroked her hair. Her face was averted.
“There might be another way, Maria.”
“There can’t be another way.”
“Look.” With his free hand he swiftly sketched a diagram. “Let’s forget entrance via the power cable. The fact that those windows are barred may yet be the saving of us — well, me, anyway. I propose to go to this lane to the south of the research building. I’ll take with me a length of rope with a padded hook at one end. A couple of casts and I should catch a bar on a first floor window. I haul myself up to the first floor, unhook the rope, repeat the process and reach the second floor. And so on until I get to the top.”
“Yes?” The scepticism now in her face hadn’t replaced the fear, merely redoubled it. “And then?”
“I’ll find some way of silencing the guard or guards in the corner tower.”
“What is it, Bruno? What drives you? You are a driven man, don’t you know that? You don’t work for the CIA
