Curtain Of Fear Part 5

"Thank you, Comrade Hoovsk." Vanek gave a sigh of relief. "What you tell us puts his ident.i.ty beyond further dispute."

Suddenly Nicholas found his tongue. "It's a lie! A flat lie! I've never so much as laid a finger on her."

She continued to look straight at him. "You need not be ashamed of admitting it because you knew I had no option. Everyone here realises that there are occasions when a woman Comrade is proud to submit to things which are personally distasteful to her if they are rendered necessary by her work."

"Are you suggesting that I made you sleep with me against your will?"

"That first night at Marlow you made it quite clear that if I wouldn't, you meant to break off our a.s.sociation; and you knew perfectly well that the importance of maintaining it left me no choice."

Her voice was coldly indifferent, but her expression gave him the idea that she was laughing at him. Then he realised that was owing to the small cast in her left eye which, in the strong light, he could now see again.

"d.a.m.n it, I've never been to Marlow," he burst out. "I've never even set eyes on you until to-night."

"It is unnecessary to pursue the matter further," Vank declared with a smile of approval at the pale-faced girl. "Before I sent for you, Comrade Hoovsk, he was endeavouring to persuade us that he was Professor Nicholas Novk, Bilto's cousin. That is why he so stoutly denied his relations with you."

"I see," she returned his smile. "I knew already that he'd got cold feet and was trying to wriggle out of going to Prague. I expect Comrade Abombo has told you that we had to bring him here from Cricklewood against his will. He is more of a fool than I thought him, though, to try such a silly stunt as this. No family resemblance could be close enough for a girl to have any hesitation about identifying a man she has slept with."

That was the very point which was making Nicholas wonder if he was not living through some evil dream. Bilto and he were certainly very alike, but there was ten years' difference in their ages. The girl's eyes showed no sign of weakness and, even had she been nearly blind, it seemed utterly incredible that she could mistake a man she had never seen before for one with whom she had been having an affair over many months.

"It is settled, then!" Vank gave Nicholas a belligerent look. "You are Professor Bilto Novk, and I shall send you to Prague."

"I am not!" Nicholas protested angrily. "And even if I were, what would be the use? I left the hotel with only the things I stand up in. All Bilto's notes-or mine, if you insist that I am Bilto-are still there in his luggage. What good would an atomic scientist be to anyone on the other side of the Iron Curtain if he had left all his data behind?"

Vank waggled his pince-nez with a knowing look. "Ah, but you carry most of your knowledge in your head. If you still prove recalcitrant when you get there, our friends will find ways to extract it. But come! We have already wasted a further ten minutes disposing of your wicked lies. Time is now short, and to guard against trouble at the airport, we must give you special treatment. Comrade Abombo, go and tell Comrade Lubitsch that we have a reluctant pa.s.senger. Ask him to get his things together and come here as quickly as possible."

"What d'you mean to do?" cried Nicholas in sudden apprehension.

"To give you a small injection." Vank's gold tooth flashed in a brief smile. "Nothing that will upset you seriously. You will be quite well again to-morrow; but for the next few hours it will make you feel as though you were drunk, and slow up the action of your brain."

Nicholas' face went a shade whiter. Swiftly he took stock of the situation. The negro had left the room. Vank was well on into middle age and of frail build. The tall young man did not look as if he had much stamina. It seemed hardly likely that the girl would be capable of going very much to help them in a rough-house. It was three to one, but now or never. He clenched his fists.

"Stay where you are!" Vank had noticed Nicholas' gesture and guessed his intention. In one quick movement he stepped back to the side of his desk and thrust a hand behind him into a half-open drawer. When the hand appeared again it was clutching a pistol. Pointing the weapon at Nicholas, he said: "You will achieve nothing by resorting to violence. I am a good enough shot to stop you with a flesh wound, so we should still be able to send you to Prague. Keep your hands by your sides-unless you prefer to go as a stretcher case."

Short of risking a bullet, there seemed no reply to that, so Nicholas did not attempt one. No words could have expressed the mixture of anger, exasperation, fear, doubt and indignation that seethed within him; so he remained silent while Vank turned to the girl: "Comrade Hoovsk, as he left without any luggage we must provide him with a suit-case and enough things to make a show. Go upstairs and collect what is necessary from the wardrobe room. While you are there pack a case for yourself as well."

Nicholas happened to be looking at her. He sensed rather than saw the blood drain from her face. It could hardly have gone paler, but the line of her eyebrows became more clearly defined, and by comparison with her cheeks, her lips became quite pink.

"A ... a suit-case for myself," she stammered. "But why, Comrade Vank ... why?"

"Because I wish you to go with him," Vank replied quietly.

"No! Please!" she gasped. "I have a date. Someone I promised to meet at half past ten up in the West End."

"You are not down in my book for any a.s.signment. Has something arisen unexpectedly in connection with one of your cases?"

In three quick strides she came round the end of the table to within two feet of her chief, and said in a low, urgent voice, "Comrade Vank, this is a private matter, but it means a very great deal to me. I have always ..."

Tilting back his head, he looked at her through his pince-nez and said severely, "I am amazed, Comrade Hoovsk, to hear you use such bourgeois expressions. For those of us who have dedicated ourselves to the creation of a Workers' World State, there are no longer 'private matters'. It is most distressing to me to learn that you are still subject to the type of weakness you suggest, and I must strongly recommend you to discipline yourself."

"I'm sorry, Comrade Vanek." She began openly to cringe. "Of course I realise how anti-social such emotions are, and I a.s.sure you that I would never allow anything of that kind to affect my Party-consciousness. But ... but is it really necessary for me to go to Prague?"

"Even were it not, I should send you there now," he declared with the harshness of a fanatic. "It would be a fitting exercise for you in subordinating all thoughts to the priority of politic endeavour. But it is necessary. Experience has taught us that when cases such as we now have on our hands travel accompanied by a woman there is less likelihood of awkward questions being asked. I had intended that Konen should go with him as his courier. Now someone who can at the same time act a nurse-mistress-secretary role will be more suitable, and in view of your intimacy with him...."

At that instant Nicholas leapt forward and grabbed at the pistol in Vank's hand.

For the past two minutes the girl's unexpected reluctance to accept an order had diverted the attention of both Vank and the thin young man from their prisoner. Nicholas had watched the pistol gradually slew away from him and downward till it was pointing towards the floor. Seizing his chance, he attempted to s.n.a.t.c.h it, but the force of his spring made him overshoot the mark. Instead of his fingers closing on the weapon they met round Vank's wrist.

The Czech jumped backwards in an endeavom to jerk free his hand, but only succeeded in pulling Nicholas after him. For a moment they stood a foot apart with their arms thrust out sideways, both fearful that the gun would go off and wound them.

"Quick, Konen! Seize him! Seize him!" Vank cried in Czech, and the thin young man threw himself at Nicholas from behind. But Vank was no match for his younger antagonist. Before Konen could come to his help Nicholas. .h.i.t him hard in the stomach and at the same moment gave his wrist a violent wrench. He groaned, doubled up, and the pistol fell with a dull thud on the floor.

Nicholas had no time to turn; he could only throw his body to one side as Konen came at him. The young Czech had aimed to grasp both Nicholas' arms and hold them fast behind his back, but the movement frustrated his intention. He succeeded only in catching hold of Nicholas' left elbow, and the wrench he gave it swung Nicholas round towards him.

As Vank staggered away, retching and gasping, the two younger men closed. The Czech was slightly the taller, but Nicholas was more st.u.r.dily built. For some twenty seconds they remained almost motionless, striving for mastery; then Nicholas broke the other's hold. Stepping back a pace, he clenched his fists and lashed out with all his strength. His left thudded into the Czech's ribs and his right took him squarely on his receding chin. Clutching frantically at the air, he went over backwards.

Panting from his exertions, Nicholas looked swiftly round. Vank was now leaning heavily on his desk, still trying to get his breath back. The girl had picked up the gun, but she was not pointing it at him. As his glance met hers he saw her eyes flicker towards the pa.s.sage. It looked as if his swift double victory had taken her so much by surprise that it had robbed her of the initiative to hold him up, and she was now counting on the sounds of the struggle bringing prompt help. Praying that by the time she recovered her wits it would be too late for her to use the pistol, Nicholas made a dash for the door.

Konen lay sprawled in the way. The blow to the chin had dazed him but not knocked him out. He was rolling his head from side to side and making futile movements with his arms. It was the worst possible luck for Nicholas that as he sprang forward Konen should have rolled right over. Instead of his right foot landing firmly on the floor it came down on the calf of Konen's leg. It twisted under him and he fell in a heap on top of his victim. Konen, still only half-conscious, and believing that he had again been set upon, let out a shout, struggled up on to his knees and struck out wildly. The sudden hunching of his back threw Nicholas against the table, he struck his head a sharp blow on its edge, reeled with the pain and tumbled over sideways.

Vank had now recovered sufficiently to re-enter the fray. Dodging out from behind his desk, he ran at Nicholas and kicked him savagely in the ribs. Already off balance as Nicholas was, the kick sent him right over. His cheek and shoulder hit the floor on the far side of Konen, and his feet flew up into the air. As he wriggled over Konen's still squirming body Vank came at him again, but this time he saw the kick coming and managed to grab the Czech's ankle. Heaving himself over, he brought the older man down on top of him, and as he fell used his free hand to strike at his face. The blow was little more than an upward jab, but it landed on Vank's mouth, cutting his lip badly.

The attack by Vank had lasted long enough for Konen to get back some of his wits. Regaining conscious control of his limbs, he ceased to flail them blindly, dragged himself free of the other two and grabbed Nicholas by the hair. Nicholas twisted free, again hit him under the chin, then kneed Vank in the stomach. Gasping for breath, his eyes watering from pain, bruised, shaken and half winded, he struggled up between them into a half-kneeling position. Konen had fallen back with his mouth hanging loosely open and Vank now lay face downwards on the floor making horrible animal noises. Instinctively Nicholas realised that he need fear no more trouble from either of them. Swaying as though slightly drunk, he pulled himself to his feet and lurched towards the door.

But the delay caused by his having tripped over Konen proved fatal to his chance of escape. Vank's first shouts had alarmed the house, and even the few moments occupied by the recent melee on the floor had been sufficient for several people to reach the scene of the trouble.

As Nicholas made his second attempt to reach the doorway, a hard-faced middle-aged woman appeared blocking his way. Close on her heels came Rufus and a big blond man with china-blue eyes. They were followed by another, very fat woman, wearing a check ap.r.o.n, and an elderly man with a drooping moustache, whose hands were black with printer's ink.

In a matter of seconds Nicholas was surrounded. Several people struck him at once, and he was temporarily too exhausted to do more than ward off the most savage blows. Fortunately for him, the good-natured Rufus saw that he was incapable of serious resistance, so thrust the others aside and pushed him into a chair; then, more in sorrow than in anger, proceeded to read him a lecture: "Mister Bilto. Didn't ai warn you not to start nothin'? What for d'you wanta go actin' so an' gettin' you'self hurt? They tell me that way down in your heart you's one of us, an' it's all wrong for us proletarian-ideologists to go gettin' at cross purposes. 'Tain't sense for you to pretend you's not you'self and don' wanta go to Prague no more. That's where duty calls you; an' doin' our duty is what qualifies us to be equal members of one great big happy family. Yes, sir, we must all do that if we's to see the fine new Communist world that Comrade Stalin is workin' so hard to create for all the poor simple folks who can't create nothin' for themselves. Now Comrade Stalin, I reckon he'd be mighty hurt if he knew how you been behavin' this evenin'."

"Oh, go to h.e.l.l!" groaned Nicholas, sinking his aching head between his hands. But he could not shut out the babble of voices that now filled the room. Most of them were using Czech, but he caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of English and German. The hard-faced woman was dabbing with a handkerchief at Vank's cut mouth. The fat one, whose ap.r.o.n suggested that she had come from the kitchen, was fussing over Konen. The big fair man and the old fellow with the drooping moustache were asking the Hoovsk girl for details of the trouble. Then, after a minute or two, Vank was helped back into the chair behind his desk, and he called for silence.

As the din subsided, he gave Nicholas a malevolent look and said, "If you were not so eagerly awaited in Prague, I would have you disciplined for this; but in order to get you to the airport on time I must deny myself that pleasure. We have wasted enough time already and must now work fast." Turning to his subordinates, he added: "Comrade Konen, your bag is already packed. Put some things in another for Professor Novk and take them both to the car. You, Comrade Hoovsk, will pack a bag as I told you, and join him there. Comrade Abombo, take a firm hold of the Professor, so that Comrade Lubitsch can proceed with the injection. The rest of you can return to your duties."

As they began to file from the room, Rufus stepped round behind the chair in which Nicholas was sitting, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and in one swift movement pulled it back over his shoulders. The trick had the effect of pinioning his arms at the level of the elbows and exposing his s.h.i.+rt from a little above the waist upwards. Setting his teeth, he jerked himself forward and made an attempt to rise; but by pressing down hard on his jacket the powerful negro was able easily to prevent him from struggling up out of the chair.

Meanwhile, the fair man who had been addressed as Comrade Lubitsch opened a small attache case that he had been clutching as he ran into the room, and laid out on the table the things needed for an injection. Vank came from behind his desk and, as Nicholas was still squirming from side to side, took a firm grip of his right ear. Giving it a sharp twist, he said: "Be still now! You will only make matters worse for yourself if you jerk about and cause the needle to snap off in your arm."

Tears of pain had already started to Nicholas' eyes at the tug on his ear; and seeing the sense of the admonition, he reluctantly decided that, for the moment, discretion was the better part of valour.

Lubitsch produced a pair of scissors, made a four-inch slit with them in his victim's s.h.i.+rt, jerked up the short sleeve of his vest, dabbed the skin with surgical spirit and pressed home the hypodermic. As the needle came out Rufus relaxed his grip on the jacket and slid it back round the prisoner's shoulders. The speed and efficiency with which they did the job suggested to Nicholas that it was by no means the first time that the two of them had collaborated in giving an injection to a patient who might have made difficulties about partially undressing; and now that he had a few moments to think in, he wondered grimly how many unwilling people had been similarly treated at this apparently derelict house hidden away in a once respectable part of central London.

For some minutes he felt no effect from the drug at all, and by the time Vank went to the door to shout in Czech an impatient enquiry if the others were ready, he was contemplating making another attempt to get away as they led him out through the garden to the car. However seedy the district might be, there could be no doubt that the majority of its inhabitants would be honest citizens, and that like any other it must be patrolled by the police. Even if he was unable to break free and run for it, if he began to shout for all he was worth just as they reached the gate it seemed a certainty that help would arrive before he could be forcibly carried off.

In response to Vank's shouts someone could be heard clattering down a flight of uncarpeted stairs, and next moment Konen appeared in the doorway. Leading him over to the desk, Vank unlocked a drawer in it, took out a bundle of five-pound notes, counted several off, and as he gave them to him said: "Here is money for an extra seat on the plane. If there is not one free you must give yours up to Comrade Hoovsk; but I would prefer you to go with them as far as Paris in case she needs your help. There you will be met by someone from our Emba.s.sy, and as arranged you can hand over. But she must continue on to Prague with him, in case the Paris-Prague plane has to make an unexpected landing and it is necessary to explain his state."

During the next few minutes Nicholas began to feel a little drowsy; so that when the Hoovsk girl came hurrying along the pa.s.sage carrying a suit-case, and Vank went to the door to give her a batch of papers, he felt that he could not be bothered to strain his ears sufficiently to make sense of the Czech phrases they were using.

As the sharp tapping of her high-heeled shoes receded towards the garden door, Vank turned and made a sign to Rufus. The negro put a hand beneath Nicholas' arm and helped him to his feet. Lubitsch then stepped up to him and gave him a hard slap in the face.

In spite of all that had gone before, Nicholas' immediate impulse was to return the blow. Instinctively he sought to raise his fists, but he found that it needed a great effort even to drag them from his sides, and that his knees were now distinctly shaky. While he swayed there ineffectively glowering and thickly muttering curses, the big blond man gave a contemptuous laugh, said in German to Vank, "He will do, Comrade," and, stepping back, lit a cigarette.

Vank nodded and said to Rufus, "You can take him to the car now, Comrade Abombo. Report to me on your return." Then he stood aside for the negro to lead Nicholas from the room.

While going down the pa.s.sage, Nicholas made a resolute effort to rally his resources for the attempt to escape that he had been contemplating; but it was fated to die stillborn. As soon as he got out into the fresh air, instead of it reviving him each breath he took seemed to make him fainter and more giddy. His footsteps faltered, he was almost overcome by a feeling of acute nausea, and even had he forced a shout, the weak sort of cry which was all he could have managed would not have been heard by a pa.s.ser-by, for Rufus did not take him within sight of the street, but through some stunted bushes at the back of the house straight to a side entrance of the garage. As he stumbled into it he felt that nothing he did could now prevent these people from carrying him off to the other side of the Iron Curtain.

CHAPTER VII.

UNHAPPY LANDING.

From that point Nicholas' limbs continued to function only lethargically and a little eccentrically, while his mind became distinctly hazy. He knew fairly well what was happening round him at any given moment, but his sense of time deserted him, and between fighting down bouts of nausea a variety of scenes seemed to telescope into one another.

Konen and the girl put him in the back of the car between them. Again he found himself staring at Rufus' broad shoulders and flat chauffeur's cap. Somewhere they pulled up and all got out while he was sick as a dog at the side of the road. When they arrived at the airport Konen left them, and Rufus carried their bags to the reception counter. While his blonde companion produced the tickets Nicholas leaned against the desk, dull-eyed and breathing heavily.

He felt very drunk, and the place seemed to be going up and down like a s.h.i.+p on a slowly heaving sea. At the back of his mind he knew that it was terribly important that he should say something, but he could not think what. With difficulty he focused the pretty face of the receptionist. She was eyeing him with disapproval, and as she handed the tickets back she said: "I take it that as you are travelling together, Madam, you will be responsible for this gentleman. We have the right to refuse to accept pa.s.sengers who might prove troublesome in the aircraft."

"He won't be any trouble." The Hoovsk girl gave a rueful smile. "I'm used to him. Once he's on board he'll settle down to sleep."

The girl gave her a sympathetic glance, weighed their bags, then said that as their flight had been signalled they could go straight through. Rufus handed the bags over to a porter, wished them a good journey, touched his peaked cap like a well-trained servant and turned away.

At the emigration desk Nicholas made another desperate attempt to control his wandering mind. The sight of the pa.s.sports gave him a vague clue, and in his head the words 'I am not Bilto, I am Nicholas' formed themselves; but when he strove to get them out, his tongue felt like a lump of leather in his mouth and he could only mumble incoherently.

After staring at him for a moment, the officer looked at the pale-faced girl who was supporting him, and asked, "What's the matter with your friend?"

"He's been ill," she replied calmly. "Nervous breakdown following severe shock; and to-night when my back was turned he got at the whisky bottle."

"It is against regulations to allow persons 'under the influence' to board an aircraft," the man remarked rather dubiously.

"He is not drunk in the ordinary sense, and he has to go abroad to complete his cure. I am his nurse, and will be responsible for him."

"Very well, then." The official shrugged and stamped their pa.s.sports.

In the customs room Konen caught them up, but did not immediately approach them. Instead, he waited until Nicholas, on turning away from the bench, staggered slightly. Then, playing the part of a stranger, he raised his hat politely and offered his help to get him to the plane.

On the way to it, Nicholas was sick again, and so racked with physical suffering that he was rendered temporarily incapable of even registering what was taking place round him. Only his legs continued to function sufficiently for him to be helped on board without actually collapsing, and once he had been lowered into his seat he drifted off into a coma.

His next impressions were even vaguer than those of his transit through the airport. Physically his condition had improved, as his stomach had settled down, but his brain was still leaden from the drug and he no longer felt any impulse to fight it. As though in a dream he saw arc-lights alternating with patches of darkness, felt himself walking with the stilted gait of a somnambulist, and knew that he was being transferred from one aircraft to another in the middle of the night. He could hear people talking in French, and was aware that a short fat man had taken Konen's place. The movement made his head ache intolerable, and it was an incredible relief when he was able to relax again in the second aircraft. It seemed much smaller than the first, and the half-dozen people in it all kept staring at him while chattering together excitedly in Czech. Soon after it had taken off the Hoovsk girl opened her bag, and taking some tablets from it, forced two of them into his mouth. He closed his aching eyes, and slept.

He was woken by her shaking him. Morning had come and bright sunlight was streaming through the ports. He wondered how on earth he came to be in an aeroplane; then as he turned his head and found himself looking into her green eyes, everything flooded back to him.

His mouth tasted frightful, but his brain was now perfectly clear again. In fact it seemed to have a special clarity, as though he were subject to one of those happy hangovers induced by drinking only wine, which cause the toper to call gaily on his friends to renew the carousel on the morning after. Having flexed his limbs he decided that all he needed was a drink to cleanse his mouth, and he would then be as fit as a fiddle. Momentarily, relief at finding that Vank had not lied about the temporary effects of the drug occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else, and he found himself smiling into the green eyes that were watching him so intently, with the intention of asking if he could have a pot of tea.

Before he could open his mouth, she put a finger to her lips, made an anxious grimace enjoining silence, then pa.s.sed him a slip of paper. On it was written: "We shall soon be coming into Prague. Both of us are in great danger. You must pretend that you have not yet recovered from the drug. Say nothing whatever, and do exactly as I tell you. Destroy this at once."

Slowly he tore the note into fragments and pushed them into the ash holder. Pleasure at his sense of physical well-being was swiftly crowded into the background by a host of questions crying out to be answered, and the resurrection of acute anxiety about the future. So much had happened in so short a time before he pa.s.sed out that he had never really had a chance to sort the awful muddle and get things in their right perspective.

He had himself to blame for starting the chain of events; but they need not have brought him here, several thousand feet up in the air somewhere over western Czechoslovakia, had it not been for the girl. It was she who had browbeaten the Sinznicks, and had him carried off against his will to the secret headquarters somewhere in the decayed part of north-west Kensington. It was she who, when his ident.i.ty had been in doubt, had falsely established it as Bilto's by positively declaring that she was his mistress. For some purpose of her own she had deliberately got him into this mess, and in order to do so had deceived her own people. Now, apparently, she was in a mess herself and hoped to get out of it by persuading him voluntarily to continue the deception. But why? Why? Why?

The carefree light-headedness, sometimes resulting from a gla.s.s too much of champagne, came over him again. Fis.h.i.+ng in the inside pocket of his jacket he found that his private papers and Biro pencil had been put back there; so he took out a letter, tore a piece off the envelope and wrote on it: "Dear Comrade in Imaginary Sin. My present inclination is to take the first opportunity of throwing you to any wolves who may be chasing you. But I have a kind heart and am susceptible to bribery. Get me a pot of tea and I will reconsider the matter."

When she had read what he had written she gave him a look in which anger was mingled with alarm and impatience. Then she wrote on another piece of paper: "This is no time for fooling. Our situation is much too serious. Beg you to do as I ask."

To that he replied on another strip of envelope. "Only pot of tea will induce me to listen to reasons why I should play your game."

After reading it, if looks could have killed her glance would have slain him. She sucked the point of her pencil for a moment, then produced a third effort.

"We are on Czech diplomatic plane. To order drink would indicate your partial recovery. Imperative you continue to appear in semi-stupor. Only possible chance for me to get you on plane returning Paris."

That had the effect of putting an abrupt end to Nicholas' levity. Visions of long interrogations, possible imprisonment, and the prospect of worries and difficulties of all kinds when called on by the Czech authorities to explain how he came to be in his present situation, again surged to the forefront of his mind. If only she could save him from that by having him promptly flown out of Prague, what matter the axe she was grinding on her own account. He nodded, scribbled on his last piece of envelope: "All right, I'll play", then settled back in his seat once more.

Lack of movement on the part of the other occupants of the plane suggested that they were still dozing, but as it began to descend they roused up and started getting their things together. Nicholas then closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep; so he did not see from the air, as they came in to land, the fine city he had last visited when a boy.

A gentle series of b.u.mps told him that the aircraft had landed, and again he felt himself shaken by the arm. His memories of his feelings while being shepherded through the airport the previous night were still so vivid that he had no difficulty in counterfeiting a slightly milder version of the appearance he must have presented. Wide-eyed and mumbling a little, he allowed the cause of all his troubles, and the short, fat man who had joined her in Paris, to help him from the plane.

The latter's name, Nicholas learned, was Kmoch. He had soft spaniel-like brown eyes and was wearing a light overcoat that was much too long for him. Evidently he was a Comrade of authority, as he carried a small badge that he had only to flash under the noses of the immigration and customs officials for himself and his companions to be pa.s.sed straight through; but as soon as these brief formalities were completed and they reached the main hall of the airport, a violent argument arose between Nicholas' male and female escorts. As he leaned against a pillar there, he appeared incapable of taking in what was said; but actually he found his Czech quite good enough to follow their wrangle, and listened with intense interest to it.

The man had ordered a car, which was outside waiting to take them to the city, and he was anxious that they should set off without delay. The girl maintained that it would be an ill service to the Party if they allowed it to leak out that it had been necessary to drug the famous atom-scientist in order to get him to Prague. He agreed, but said he saw no way of making him appear normal when he obviously was not. She declared that given an hour in the airport restaurant with the Professor, and plenty of black coffee, she would have him round to normal, or very near it.

He at first demurred, from fear that he would get into trouble if he did not obey his instructions to take the Professor straight to the hotel at which rooms had been reserved for him. She said that he would get into much greater trouble if he ruined a first-rate occasion for disseminating valuable propaganda, as it was certain that a big official reception would have been ordered for such a distinguished arrival. He said that a luncheon had been arranged for later in the day, and he felt sure that nothing of that kind would have been planned to take place until then. She argued that even if that were so, he would risk a severe reprimand if, for the sake of an hour, he took the Professor into the city for all-and-sundry to see in his present state.

After some hesitation he admitted that she was right; then said that he would telephone explaining the cause of the delay and afterwards join them in the restaurant, as he could do with some coffee himself. At that she flared up into a pa.s.sion and asked if he had not the sense to realise the importance of getting the Professor mentally as well as physically presentable; adding that as she was his mistress, she had a good chance of doing both if left alone with him, but could certainly not hope to overcome his resentment at having been drugged should her efforts be handicapped by the presence of a third person.

The possibility that the Professor might recover his wits, only to create a violent scene in the lounge of one of the biggest hotels in Prague, was obviously against the interests of the Party; so again Kmoch had to admit the soundness of her arguments. In the end it was therefore agreed that she should be left to do her utmost with the Professor, while he went to telephone by the private line at the airport police post, have some coffee there, and come to collect her and her charge from the restaurant in an hour's time.

The moment that Kmoch turned his back, the girl winked at Nicholas; then she took him by the arm and led him towards the restaurant. As they entered it, under cover of the noise made by the revolving door, she whispered in English: "Everything depends now on whether a friend of mine is still working here; and if so, what he can do for us. You can act normally, but ask no questions, and leave all the talking to me."

Immediately Nicholas was inside the long, low room, he saw that it was not a restaurant in the true sense but run on the lines of a cafeteria. None of the tables were laid, but on a metal counter, behind which stood several girls, there were piles of cutlery, cups and saucers, trays with slots in them, and steaming food containers. Very few of the tables were occupied, as it was still early and the peak of the morning traffic was not due for at least another two hours. The only concession to making the room something more than a cheap eating place was a semi-circular bar at one end. Behind it a dark-haired man of about thirty-five, in a white jacket, was polis.h.i.+ng gla.s.ses.

Nicholas' companion led him straight over to the bar, un-obtrusively made the sign of the cross on it with her thumbnail, perched herself on a stool, and said in Czech, "Good morning, Jirka, I was hoping you'd still be doing the early s.h.i.+ft. How's business?"

The barman grinned at her, nodded to Nicholas, and replied in a loud voice, "Fine, fine. There isn't a bar to touch this in London, Paris or New York, for variety of good liquor." Then he added under his breath, "Lousy; and the only thing I've got fit to drink is some matured Slivowitz that I keep under the counter. Want a couple, or is it too early?"

"No," she smiled, producing some Czech money from her bag. "Set them up, Jirka; I need a bracer."

As he produced the bottle and gla.s.ses, she lit a cigarette, and keeping her hand over her mouth with the cigarette between her fingers, continued to talk softly through them. "I'm in a spot, Jirka. Unless I can get out of here pretty quick, I'll be a dead duck."

"That's bad," he murmured without looking at her. "Either way you'd be a big loss to the Legion."