toilet. Captain Kodes knocked on the circus’s office door and entered without invitation. Wrinfield looked up in mild surprise. “I’m looking for Colonel Sergius, Mr Wrinfield. Have you seen him?”
“I’ve just arrived from the train. If he’s inside he’ll be in his usual seat.”
Kodes nodded and hurried into the large exhibition hall. The late-night performance was in full swing and, as usual, it was a capacity house. Kodes made his way along to the section of the seats opposite the centre ring, but there was no sign of Sergius. For a few moments he stood there irresolute, then instinctively, almost inevitably, his eyes followed the gaze of ten thousand other pairs of eyes.
For long moments Kodes stood stock still, as if petrified, his mind at first blankly refusing to accept the evidence of his eyes. But his eyes were making no mistake. What he was witnessing was the impossible but the impossible was indubitably there: two of the Blind Eagles were going through their customary hair-raising trapeze act.
Kodes turned and ran. As he went through the exit he was met by Kan Dahn, who greeted him in genial fashion. It was questionable whether Kodes saw him. He burst into Wrin-field’s office, this time without the benefit of knocking. “The Blind Eagles! The Blind Eagles! Where in God’s name have they come from?”
Wrinfield looked at him mildly. “Their kidnappers released them. We notified the police. Didn’t you know?” “No, I damn well didn’t know!” Kodes ran from the office and into his car.
Ashen-faced and stunned, Kodes stood on the seventh floor of the Lubylan detention block. The shock of finding gagged and bound men both at the open entrance below and in the guardroom had been shattering enough: but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the three dead men lying there, Sergius and Van Diemen and Angelo.
A sure instinct led Kodes to the undertaker’s emporium. He was hardly conscious of the fact that the lights were on in the front office. They were also on in the back parlour. He made his way to the coffin that had been so briefly occupied by Bruno, and slowly removed the lid.
Dr Harper, hands crossed on his chest, looked curiously peaceful. The hands held the large black-bordered box that had been cut from the paper that had announced Bruno’s death. The admiral leaned back in his chair in his Washington office and stared in disbelief as Bruno and Maria entered. “God! That suit!”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Bruno surveyed his suit without enthusiasm. “Chap in Crau gave it to me.” “He did? Anyway, welcome home, Bruno. And Miss Hopkins.”
“Mrs Wildermann,” Bruno said.
“What the devil do you mean?”
“Holy matrimony. They give you a special licence for people in a hurry. We were in a hurry.”
The admiral contained his near-apoplexy. “I have the outline of the past few days. The details, please.”
Bruno gave him the details and when he had finished the admiral said: “Magnificent. Well, well, it took a long time before we could put it all together. Van Diemen and your family.”
“A long time.”
Maria stared from one to the other in puzzlement.
The admiral said briskly: “And now. The plans.”
“Destroyed.”
“Naturally. But your mentalist mind isn’t.”
“My mentalist mind, sir, has gone into a state of total shock. Amnesia.”
The admiral leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his hands tightening on the desk. “Repeat that.”
“I destroyed them without looking at them.” “You destroyed them without looking at them.” It was a statement not a question. His voice was very quiet. “Why?” “What did you want, sir? Another mutual balance of terror throughout the world?”
“Why?”
“I told you why. Remember? I hate war.”
For long moments the admiral looked at him without enthusiasm, then he slowly relaxed, leaned back and astonished them both by laughing.
“I’ve a damned good mind to fire you.” He sighed, still smiling. “But you’re probably right on the whole.” Maria said blankly: “Fire him?”
“Didn’t you know? Bruno has been one of my top, and certainly most trusted, agents for the past five years.”
