Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Read online

  His host laughed.

  ‘I like the lift,’ he commented. ‘Anyone would imagine you were going to ask someone to give you a ride in a car for a few miles. It will certainly be a lift from Damascus to Naples! But I think I can save you the trouble of going to Damascus. We have an RAF squadron here.’

  ‘How splendid!’ exclaimed Shannon. ‘Well that is something I did not know, I must confess. I will go and interview the officer in command this afternoon.’

  ‘That is the one thing about you fellows I envy,’ declared Stevenson. ‘I refer to that possession of yours which gives you a kind of “Open Sesame” to the assistance of whatever authority it is shown in Great Britain or the Empire. But I would not be in your shoes otherwise for anything. Perhaps I value my life and my comfort too highly. Can you ever rely upon a night’s rest in your own bed or a feeling of absolute security?’

  Shannon smiled.

  ‘Seldom,’ he admitted, ‘but there’s no life in the world like it.’

  ‘Everybody to his taste,’ murmured the governor. ‘I suppose, since you will be leaving again so soon, you will not wish to be put up for the clubs? I had a communication from your department asking me to do the necessary.’

  ‘It won’t be worthwhile, thank you, sir. I’d like a chance of meeting Paul Michalis, however, if that could be arranged in an apparently casual manner.’

  Stevenson shook his head.

  ‘I am afraid it is out of the question,’ he returned. ‘He, too, sailed on the Ile-de-France.’

  ‘Did he, by Jove! That’s very interesting. I suppose Radoloff, Doreff, and Bruno were also of the party?’

  ‘They were, with Madame Bikelas, and Signora Bruno. In addition there were two secretaries and a young woman who appeared to be companion to Madame Bikelas.’

  Shannon grunted.

  ‘The presence of women rather suggests a pleasure trip and nothing else. Perhaps, though, that is the very reason why they are included in the party. I wonder, sir, if you can add anything to my information.’

  They compared notes, but Shannon learnt very little more than he already knew. It certainly appeared as though the reception to Plasiras and Bikelas had been a surprise both to them and to Michalis. The governor had been informed that people had appeared in the streets as though at a prearranged signal. Greek flags had been hung from windows, and a shouting, cheering throng had surrounded the cars. Paul Michalis had appeared very much upset, while the two ex-ministers of Greece had looked startled and angry. The visitors, accompanied by Michalis, had called on Sir Gordon. The Cypriot landowner had explained the exuberant welcome as having been arranged in an excess of zeal by someone; who it was he either would not or could not say. Cypriots as a whole, he had declared, sympathised deeply with the unfortunate men who had once been so prominent in Greece. Altogether Michalis and his friends had been distinctly perturbed. They had tried hard to learn from the governor how he regarded the affair, but, as he explained to Shannon with a smile, he had been entirely non-committal. They had remained quite in the dark concerning his attitude.

  ‘It is worth knowing that they did not desire the welcome,’ observed Shannon. ‘It may turn out to be one of those queer, unanticipated events which alter the whole course of an apparently well-schemed affair.’ He told his interested host of the incident at the Colonial Office, which greatly intrigued him, and caused him to agree that there must be a big conspiracy afoot. ‘If I could only get my teeth into something,’ went on Shannon. ‘At present I’m like a dog that badly wants a bone, but can’t get one.’

  ‘Don’t be impatient!’ advised the other. ‘You have only just started.’ He eyed the massive shoulders, powerful jaw, and great arms and hands of his visitor; thought the simile of the dog and the bone particularly apt. It was certain, he reflected, that once this young man got a grip on the bone he was after, he would never leave go until he had crushed it. ‘I’m afraid you will find out nothing by enquiries among the inhabitants here,’ went on Stevenson. ‘I have had police mixing among them in plain clothes, but they have not learnt anything of importance except that there is definitely a feeling of sympathy for the two Greeks. You being a stranger, and obviously an Englishman, would have little chance of getting any information out of them.’

  ‘I don’t propose to try,’ declared Shannon. ‘I’m not exactly built for underground enquiries,’ he added a trifle ruefully. ‘I’m too conspicuous – altogether too outsized. We have a man, called Cousins, who is amazing at that sort of thing. If he hadn’t entered the service, he would probably have been world famous as a character actor. He can lose himself utterly in the part he is playing, and can disguise himself perfectly as anything from a marmoset to a Mormon.’ He smiled at the exaggeration. ‘As he speaks fifteen or sixteen languages fluently, and seems to be able to do anything, you can imagine that he is an asset to the service.’

  ‘He sounds a paragon,’ murmured the governor.

  ‘He would be, only he has one vice – a passion for quotations. Still, he’s the greatest thing on two legs I’ve ever met. Unfortunately he’s not available, otherwise he’d be here. Give him a day or so to study the breed, and he’d be a Cypriot of the Cypriots. If there is a conspiracy going on, he’d dig it out before long, and appear to be one of the ringleaders.’

  ‘You make me wish I could meet Mr Cousins,’ remarked Stevenson with a smile.

  ‘Perhaps you will some day, sir. If you do, cut him short as soon as he commences to spout poetry or reel off wisecracks made by people who are dead and gone and should have known better anyway. But perhaps you like that kind of thing.’

  Shannon lunched with the governor and his immediate staff – Sir Gordon Stevenson was not married. He found him a most entertaining host and a thoroughly good fellow. Afterwards he went to the RAF depot with the ADC, and was introduced to the squadron leader in command there. He astonished the latter when he showed his credentials and asked coolly for an aeroplane to take him to Naples, but, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise, the young airman was enthusiastic. There was a flying boat attached to the squadron, he confided, which was kept in a special hangar at Famagusta. He would place that at Shannon’s disposal. The latter thanked him warmly.

  ‘It may turn out,’ he explained, ‘that I shall not have to go to Naples after all, but I shall want it to go somewhere.’

  ‘So long as it’s not to kingdom come,’ smiled the officer, ‘I don’t mind. The bus will be ready for you when you want it.’

  Shannon returned to his hotel, rested a little while, then had tea. Afterwards he strolled down to the Girls’ High School, and asked if he could see Miss Barbara Havelock, explaining that, as he was on the island on a visit, he had called to give her various messages from mutual friends. He was subjected to a somewhat severe scrutiny by a vinegary-looking Cypriot woman, apparently the housekeeper, who grudgingly agreed to call Miss Havelock. Left alone in the rather bare little waiting room for a long time, he grew impatient. Hugh Shannon could never remain still for very long. He rose from the hard chair on which he had been perched, therefore, and commenced to stroll about, gazing abstractedly at the portraits on the walls, mostly of uncomfortable-looking girls in groups. He was regarding one directly opposite the open door with a somewhat pitying smile, when she came. She entered the room quietly, cast a quick, appraising glance at his massive figure, noted the strength of it, reflected that it was probably all muscle with not an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere. Who on earth could he be, she wondered, and was about to announce herself, when very slightly she started. He was whistling an air which members of the British Secret Service all over the world use to announce themselves. In the glass of the photograph he had caught her reflection as she entered.

  ‘You wish to see me?’ she asked.

  He swung round to face a small, demure, pretty girl with fair hair and sparkling blue eyes.

  ‘By Jove!’ he exclaimed. ‘Aren’t you like your cousin Mary? I’m Hugh Shannon,’ he added,
as he held out his hand. ‘You’ve surely heard of me? I’ve dozens of messages for you.’

  ‘Of course I’ve heard of you,’ she returned, losing her little hand completely in his huge paw. ‘How perfectly nice of you to come and see me!’

  ‘It would have been jolly churlish if I hadn’t. Besides, I’ve always heard such a lot about you. Funny we never met before, when we have so many mutual friends. Now what about dinner with me at the Palace, and a dance or something to follow?’

  ‘I should love it,’ she replied enthusiastically.

  ‘Right! Then I’ll call in a car for you at seven-thirty. That’s not too early, is it? We can’t rush cocktails, you know – bad for the digestion.’

  She smiled.

  ‘You’ll get me a very bad reputation,’ she declared, ‘if you talk about cocktails here.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m sure the sweet-faced lady, who admitted me, would never have an objection to a little cocktail or two.’ Her brows puckered a little in perplexity, but he had seen an inch or so of dress showing at one side of the door, and had guessed that the housekeeper was standing there listening to the conversation. ‘The girls here are jolly lucky,’ he went on. ‘What with that nice housekeeper and you, I guess they’re spoilt. You both look so good-natured. Are the other members of the staff as jolly?’

  She did not quite understand, but she responded to his mood.

  ‘We’re quite a happy crowd here,’ she told him.

  ‘Splendid! Well, cheer-ho for the present, Barbara – I simply have to call you that, everybody talks of you as Barbara at home.’

  She felt inclined to laugh outright, but controlled her features to a demure smile.

  ‘Au revoir, Mr Shannon. I’ll be ready at half past seven.’

  ‘Good,’ he said as they strolled out of the room together; ‘but none of that mister business. Since we’ve known about each other for so long, it’s got to be Barbara and Hugh. Don’t you think so?’ he added to the housekeeper, who was standing close by pretending to arrange flowers on a table.

  She actually smiled at him. Barbara was astonished. It was a very unusual event for her to smile at anyone, but Shannon seemed to have captured her imagination. At her request he explained what had prompted his question. She agreed that it seemed very fitting and proper that, since they had so many mutual friends who called them by their Christian names, they should do likewise. She remained chatting with them in the hall for some minutes, then Shannon departed. He returned to the Palace, and went into conference with the maître d’hôtel about a secluded table, flowers, and other important items of a like nature. As soon as he had dressed, he sent for a car, and drove back to the high school. Sir Gordon Stevenson had invited him to dine at Government House, but he had declined, giving as an excuse that he had some important business to do. The governor had naturally not enquired what that business was, but Shannon chuckled to himself at the thought that he would certainly be a trifle puzzled if he saw him dining tête-à-tête with Barbara Havelock.

  He found her waiting demurely for him, attended by the housekeeper. In the car she confided that the latter had been very much attracted by him, and, in consequence, had fluttered round her in a most embarrassing fashion; had even offered to help her to dress.

  ‘It was my remark about her sweet face that did it, I expect,’ he laughed. ‘I knew she was listening outside the door, but I didn’t expect her to take what I said seriously. Does she generally hang about like that?’

  ‘Yes; she’s a regular nosy parker,’ replied the girl. ‘Several times I’ve had my belongings searched. It rather worried me at first, because – well, you know why. But the same thing has happened to all the others, so I don’t mind much now. She is not likely to find anything.’

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘You don’t think she suspects you of being – well, not quite what you seem to be?’

  She laughed.

  ‘Good gracious, no! Why, most Cypriots are inquisitive like that.’

  ‘How long has she been housekeeper at the school?’

  ‘Oh, not very long. About three months, I should think. She is some sort of relation to Paul Michalis, the landowner, but hates him like poison. I believe she went to him when she was down on her luck, and he refused to help her.’

  Shannon became thoughtful. That item of information interested him immensely, but he made no further reference to the housekeeper just then.

  ‘Shall we get over formalities while we are here?’ he suggested. ‘We cannot be overlooked, which saves the necessity of any sleight of hand.’

  She nodded, and from somewhere in her clothing produced her Secret Service symbol which she showed to him, at the same time catching a glimpse of the replica, but with a different number on it, which was cupped in the palm of his hand. Satisfied, those very valuable and secret symbols disappeared again from view.

  ‘That’s that,’ he observed. ‘Now, you and I, Barbara, are going to give ourselves up to enjoyment for a few hours. Afterwards we talk. I understand the band of the Palace is good and the dance floor excellent. When we have dined, we dance, n’ est ce pas? Don’t be terrified! I won’t crush you or crash my elephantine hoofs upon your little feet. I may be large, but even my wife admits that I can dance.’

  ‘It will be lovely!’ she decided. ‘I feel certain I am going to have a perfectly scrumptious evening.’

  ‘Good word “scrumptious”,’ he commented, ‘though for some reason it seems to be reserved for the use of females only. Helen uses it a lot.’

  ‘Who’s Helen?’ she asked.

  ‘Just my wife!’ he told her. ‘You must meet her some day. You’ll love each other.’

  She caught the look in his eyes, and sighed a little. It must be rather wonderful, she reflected, to be loved by a man like the great, splendid fellow by her side, for she had already formed her opinion of him. When a little later they stood together in the lounge, she, exquisitely dainty in a rose pink, daringly low-cut evening gown, which showed off her white shoulders and neck to perfection, her fair hair shimmering in the light, her blue eyes sparkling, he, tall, broad, good-looking, essentially masculine, every inch a man, they felt a great admiration for each other. He never forgot her as he saw her then – his memory appeared to take a photograph that time could not efface.

  ‘Shall we sit?’ he suggested, as he relieved her of her cloak.

  They lingered over their cocktails, talking frankly and animatedly about a variety of subjects, but never touching on the one that had brought them together. Shannon’s conference with the maître d’hôtel had certainly borne fruit. When they entered the restaurant, they were conducted, with every appearance of deference, to a table in an alcove screened by palms, and far enough from the band to render the music delightful. The girl gave a little cry of sheer pleasure, when she saw the masses of blooms tastefully arranged on the table. She buried her face in them, glorying in the perfume. Afterwards she looked up at him with shining eyes.

  ‘It is fortunate you don’t come often to Nicosia,’ she remarked. ‘You would utterly spoil me, which would be exceedingly bad for a hard-working schoolmistress.’

  ‘I don’t think it would be possible to spoil you,’ he returned soberly.

  ‘How nice of you,’ she murmured, ‘to say that.’

  The dinner had been chosen with care, the wines were excellent, the champagne being of a particularly good vintage and served at exactly the right temperature. Barbara enjoyed herself immensely, though she drank very sparingly. She did most of the talking, Shannon being quite content to listen to her gay, vivacious chatter. He learnt that her father had been an army officer who had been killed during the War, and, although she did not mention his name, he knew she referred to Major Brien, when she spoke of a man who had been a great friend of her father’s, and had kept an eye on her since his death.

  ‘I owe so much to him,’ she remarked softly. ‘Dad le
ft Mother and me rather badly off, and he took full responsibility for my education. It was difficult to persuade him to let me join the SS – that stands for “School Service” in case you don’t know –’ she smiled up at him – ‘but I succeeded in the end, and here I am.’

  ‘And do you like your work?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I love it,’ was her enthusiastic response. ‘There is not a great deal of scope for one’s talents here, but I hope one day to be given a more important post. I have yet to achieve my greatest ambition.’

  ‘What is that, Barbara?’

  She glanced round her; then leant towards him.

  ‘I have never met the chief,’ she whispered. ‘I have not even seen him. I am longing for the time to come, when I shall be able to see him and speak to him.’

  ‘The time will come all right,’ Shannon assured her, also in a very low voice. ‘Although B. does the actual selecting of agents abroad, and travels round from time to time on tours of inspection, L.W. keeps in very close touch with even the routine work. He generally is too occupied with major matters to have time for tours of inspection, but he carries out surprise visits sometimes. If you are not recalled to fill another post – as I believe you will be – you may be sure he’ll turn up here sooner or later.’

  ‘He must be marvellous,’ she breathed, clasping her hands together in her ardour.

  He smiled at her enthusiasm.

  ‘That’s the spirit I like,’ he approved. ‘He is certainly brilliant, altogether charming and, in many ways, amazing. But, on first acquaintance with him, you’ll probably be terribly disappointed.’

  ‘Oh, why?’

  ‘Because he appears so utterly casual and uninterested. He’ll make you wonder how the man you see before you can have possibly performed the feats he has.’

  ‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ she smiled. ‘I know now what to expect, and I won’t be disappointed. My toes are simply itching to dance, Hugh. Shall we?’

  He rose promptly to his feet.