Complete works of peter.., p.330
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 330
He said: "A delightful plot, my best beloved, even if a little uncouth. Please continue. I am more than interested."
"In the meantime," continued Marandal, "something else had happened. It seems that your associate, Michaels, was interested in the whereabouts of Gallat. He spoke to the night porter at the Estrada Hotel. The night porter is a friend of Serilla, the police officer."
Guelvada began to smile again.
"Ho! ho!" he said. "So the night porter at the Estrada is a friend of Senhor Serilla's? Your story becomes more interesting at every moment, my heart of a rose."
Marandal went on: "The night porter sent Senhor Michaels to Serilla. Serilla played for time. He told Senhor Michaels to telephone him at five-thirty, when he thought he might have information about the missing Gallat. Serilla was going to tell him when he telephoned where Gallat is."
"I see," said Guelvada. "And how did you know this?"
"Serilla telephoned through here," answered Marandal, "immediately after Michaels had been to see him."
"I see," said Guelvada. "And how did the late Roccas take that information?"
Marandal stretched. She yawned a little.
"He was rather pleased," she said. "You see, Serilla had everything arranged. When Michaels arrived at the nursing home he would discover that Senhor Gallat was dead, for I regret to tell you that he died early this morning. After which Serilla proposed to arrest Michaels...."
Guelvada began to laugh.
"On a charge of murdering Gallat. Marvellous! That would be what Serilla would do. Is it not so?"
"Yes," said Marandal. "He was to be charged with the murder of Gallat. You see," she continued, "it was quite obvious that the friends of Gallat who had sent him to Lisbon would not be in a position to ask for information about his death, and both Serilla and Roccas considered that no one would be interested in what happened to Michaels. Why should they? Both these gentlemen were engaged in activities which officially concerned no one."
Guelvada nodded.
"Quite," he said. "So Michaels is arrested. That disposes of the death of Gallat. And then Michaels is sentenced and disappears, or possibly he dies in prison before trial... I know.... These things have happened before."
He looked at his watch. It was twenty past six. Marandal yawned again prettily. She said:
"I do not like it all—being mixed up in all this business. It perturbs me."
"I understand that very well," said Guelvada. "But do not worry, my chicken, I shall now proceed to make arrangements for your safety. Listen to me..."
He leaned forward in his chair. He spoke earnestly.
"You have made a grave mistake, my dear," he said. "The mistake of trying to be on two sides at once. That is a dangerous process, because it means that one has no friends at all. I propose to alter it."
"How?" asked Marandal.
"Officially, and for the purpose of getting you out of Lisbon, which I think is going to be a dangerous place for you to be in, you will come on to our side. You will write a complete statement telling all you know about this plot against Gallat and Michaels. You will give it to me. This statement will enable me to prove to our people that you are being frank with us, that you are doing everything you can to help, and on the strength of that," said Guelvada, "I shall get you an American visa here which will enable you to leave with safety.
"In fact," he went on, "I see no reason why you should not leave to-morrow morning and go to America. That, I think, would be the safest place for you."
Marandal nodded.
"I think so too," she said. "But are you certain that if I write this statement you will be able to arrange all that?"
"I am more than certain," said Guelvada. "I promise it. Write the statement, my sweet."
"Very well," said Marandal. "But you must tell me what I am to write. I am not very good at composition. Also, if I am to go to America I think I should like you to come too. I feel a sudden renewal of love for you, Ernest. You have killed Juan for me. I think it possible that I might easily adore you some more."
"Beloved..." murmured Guelvada, "of course I shall accompany you to America. That was my idea. In any event it is the best place to be in. Now, are you ready?"
He began to dictate the statement.
A church clock struck the quarter after seven as Guelvada pressed the doorbell at the apartment of Senhor Serilla. He waited patiently, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was not even perturbed when the door was not answered promptly. He imagined that Serilla would be in bed sleeping after his nocturnal activities.
Guelvada shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. He considered that fate was sometimes very kind. He thought that it had been kind to him. He was proceeding with this line of thought when the door opened. The police officer, in pyjamas and dressing-gown, his gold-fringed scarf about his neck, stood looking at Guelvada inquiringly.
"Senhor Serilla," said Guelvada. "I regret very much to have to disturb you at this hour. I should like to talk to you for a few minutes."
"It would be a pleasure," said Serilla courteously. "But are you sure it is business that cannot wait until I go to my office in a few hours from now?"
"No," said Guelvada. "My business is very urgent."
Serilla looked down. He saw that Guelvada's hand was in his right pocket, and that some hard object within that pocket was pointing at his stomach. He sighed.
He said: "I am at your service, Senhor." He turned and led the way towards the sitting-room.
Guelvada followed him, closing the apartment door softly behind him. Serilla went to the fireplace. He stood, his back to it, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at Guelvada. Guelvada said:
"Senhor Serilla, all of us with the best intentions in the world occasionally make grave mistakes."
Serilla nodded. "That may be so, Senhor," he said. "Even the cleverest men have been known to err."
"Precisely," said Guelvada. "And I take it, Senhor, that you are a clever man and that you have erred?" His voice became metallic. "Listen..." he said. "The man Gallat is dead. He cannot be brought back to life. And that is that. But still the fact inconveniences me. Also you have inconvenienced me in other ways, Senhor. You have erred greatly. These errors must be put right. Otherwise," Guelvada went on, producing the automatic pistol from his right-hand coat pocket, "I propose to kill you without further ado. And if I do kill you, Senhor, I shall shoot you through the stomach. This, I am told, is a very painful process." He smiled at Serilla.
The police-officer said: "Anything I can do, Senhor..."
Guelvada said: "Let me be quite frank with you. I have obtained a signed statement from the Senhora Marandal D'Alvarez. She has said everything that there is to be said. She gave me the statement in order that I should arrange that her passport might be visaed, so that she might go to America, where she thinks she will be safe. I imagine," said Guelvada primly, "that she will endeavour to take a plane to-morrow morning."
"Quite," said Serilla.
"The point that interests me more than anything else," continued Guelvada smilingly, "is that I understand that a friend of mine—Senhor Michaels—has been arrested on a trumped-up charge of killing Gallat. You will arrange to do something about that immediately, Senhor. You will telephone the police. You will give orders that Senhor Michaels is to be released at once. What do you say, Senhor?"
Serilla smiled amiably. He said:
"There is no doubt, Senhor—I have not the honour of knowing your name—that there has been a grave miscarriage of justice. I hasten to put it right."
He went to the telephone. When he had finished, Guelvada said:
"Now I think we might smoke a cigarette, Senhor. I have no doubt we shall find some pleasant subjects to converse about. We shall do that until such time as Senhor Michaels telephones me here, as you have arranged, to tell me that he is safely back at the Estrada, after which I shall, with the greatest regrets and thanks for your hospitality, take my leave."
Serilla said: "I am at your service, Senhor."
"But I should like you to know," Guelvada continued, "that if either Senhor Michaels or myself is troubled should we remain in Lisbon, the sealed package which I have left with the British Consulate General this morning, and which contains the statement by the Senhora D'Alvarez, will be opened. That might make a lot of trouble for you, Senhor."
Serilla shrugged his shoulders.
"Believe me," he said, "I am your friend. I shall make it my business to see that nothing of any sort happens either to yourself or Senhor Michaels that is not pleasant."
"Excellent," said Guelvada. He took out his cigarette case, offered it to Serilla. They sat, one on each side of the fireplace, smoking.
At a quarter to eight the telephone rang. Serilla answered it. He looked over his shoulder at Guelvada.
"It is your friend, Senhor," he said.
Guelvada poured himself out coffee. He had eaten well. He approved his breakfast. He lit a cigarette, relaxed in his chair.
Kane said: "Whoever it was ran into Gallat meant to finish him off. But they couldn't because of the medical student turning up. This student had Gallat moved to the hospital. After a bit the police arrived and searched Gallat's clothes and baggage. But they couldn't find anything. They went off hoping that when they'd got him moved to the nursing home in the Rua Ambrosio they'd be able to make him talk."
Guelvada nodded. "Naturally," he said.
"When they'd gone," Kane continued, "Gallat recovered consciousness for a few minutes. He was too clever to mention my name, but he asked the medical student to go out and get any American citizen he could find quickly. The medical student, who was a good boy, came round to the Estrada. He knew he'd find more Americans there than anywhere else. And who do you think he found?"
"I can guess," said Guelvada. "He found Griselda."
"Right," said Kane. "That was the explanation of the mysterious young man who went off with Griselda. She saw Gallat and he gave her the instructions he had for us. They were photographed in miniature, hidden in his hair. The damned fools never thought of looking there when they were searching."
Guelvada said: "You know, Michael, women can be useful sometimes...."
"Yes," agreed Kane. "Sometimes...." He looked at his watch.
"We must get packed," he said. "We've got to get out of here. I'll tell you about it on our way to the airport."
Guelvada began to grin.
"So we are going to the airport," he murmured. "That should be amusing...."
He got up, went into his bedroom, started to pack. He threw away his cigarette, began to sing a Portuguese love-song.
Marandal came into the Customs Office at the airport. She looked entrancing. She wore a black coat and skirt and a very smart tailored hat in black velvet. A porter came behind with her bags.
Guelvada said to Kane: "Excuse me for a moment, Michael." He walked towards Marandal.
She said: "I am here, Ernest. I have decided to trust you once more."
Guelvada said: "Core of my heart, whatever may or may not happen you may assure yourself always of my entire devotion. I love you with a passion that is quite amazing."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Serilla and two other men crossing the wide floor.
He said: "Excuse me, beloved, whilst I get some cigarettes." He went away.
Serilla and the two men took Marandal into the small office. They handcuffed her. Then they took her to the car outside.
Guelvada came back to Kane. Kane said:
"Who was the woman that Serilla just knocked off?" He looked suspiciously at Guelvada. "You haven't been up to anything stupid with that woman, have you, Ernie?" he asked.
Guelvada shook his head.
"Nothing that matters," he said. "But nothing at all. One day I will tell you about it. I think she has got in bad with the police here. And they will hold her for a few days and then let her go. Which is not a very pleasant thing..."
"Why?" asked Kane. He began to walk towards the tarmac.
Guelvada shrugged.
"Nothing," he said casually. "But she doesn't like me... not a lot...." He grinned. "And that is annoying. Because I am very fond of that woman. She has great charm. And if she gets the chance she will certainly kill me one day."
Kane laughed.
"There are a lot of women would like to kill you, Ernie," he said. "By the way, how did you know what Serilla planned to do last night?"
Guelvada grinned.
"When I left you I met a man I used to know," he said casually. "He told me that Serilla was bad medicine. I hung around until I saw them take you away from the nursing home and then I went to his flat and persuaded him."
"Yes?" said Kane. "So that was it." He looked at Guelvada sideways. "What were you doing all the rest of the time?" he asked.
Guelvada shrugged.
"I was talking to that woman I told you about," he said. "The one I knew years ago. The one who wanted to kill me."
"I see," said Kane. "And she doesn't want to kill you now... hey?"
Guelvada smiled. "You never know with women," he said.
They walked across to the airplane.
III. — YOU CAN ALWAYS DUCK
I
SEITZEN stood looking out of the window. Outside the rain descended in sheets. The grass patch between the cottage and the woods was soaked, the shrubs broken and bedraggled. The sound of the steam whistle of a train rumbling in the direction of Dublin made the twilight even more dolorous.
Seitzen murmured: "This is one hell of a country when it rains."
He turned from the window. He was short, squat, heavy. The raincoat he was wearing seemed too large for him. The sleeves almost covered his hands. His face was round and his jowls hung almost over his collar. He wore horn-rimmed spectacles. He looked studious and unpleasant.
Hiltsch, who was sitting at the table writing, said:
"It looks bad when it's not raining. Everywhere looks bad to me." He smiled ruefully. "It is going to look much worse in a minute."
Seitzen raised his eyebrows.
"Yes?" he said. "Why? What are you afraid of?"
"The same thing as you are——" said Hiltsch, "Hildebrand!"
Seitzen said impatiently: "I don't understand this business about being afraid of Hildebrand."
"Don't you?" said Hiltsch.
He shrugged his shoulders, laid down his pen. He tilted his chair back, and put his feet on the desk. He regarded his well-cut shoes with his head on one side.
Seitzen turned back to the window. He was annoyed. You couldn't talk to Hiltsch. And if you did talk, it didn't do any good. He fumbled for a cigarette with pudgy fingers.
Hiltsch began to whistle softly to himself. He was good-looking in a way. He looked like a young imitation of a boulevardier of the fifties—except that he was clean shaven. His middle-brown hair was wavy and his skin good. He was tall, slim and well-dressed. At one time he had been a Group Leader in the S.A., with hopes of getting a good job in the S.S. That was a long time ago.
The trouble with Seitzen, thought Hiltsch, is that he is yellow. As yellow as hell. What a hell of a fellow to work with—and on a job like this one. Why, if they wanted a difficult job done, didn't they give you good material to work with.
He began to speak quickly and softly in German.
"You are either a liar or a damn' fool, Seitzen," he said. "I've never met anybody yet who wasn't afraid of Hildebrand. Have you ever heard of Columbia House?"
Seitzen nodded. "Yes," he said. "Well?"
"Hildebrand used to run Columbia House," said Hiltsch. "That was the time when he was running the 12th Berlin Group. They used to take suspects to Columbia for questioning. Some of them thought they were tough, but they always talked. Hildebrand has got more and better ways of making people talk than anybody I know." He lit a cigarette. "I saw him do something to an old Jew one night with a fire-hose... you can't imagine how damned slowly the old boy died. Hildebrand certainly has imagination."
Seitzen said: "Very likely. But I still don't see why we have to be afraid of Hildebrand—in Eire."
Hiltsch lit a cigarette.
"That makes a hell of a lot of difference—whether it's Berlin or Eire or anywhere else. Have you ever known a keen Party Member—a real Party Member—worry about his methods because he was in a foreign country? He simply takes a little more care, that's all."
Seitzen sat down. His raincoat flopped open. When he sat his paunch hung down almost over his thighs. Behind his horn-rimmed spectacles his cruel little pig's eyes twinkled brightly. He said: "Well, I'm not scared. I have always done my job the best I could."
Hiltsch said: "You're scared all right. So am I. So would anybody else be." He got up, walked over to the window, stood looking out, smoking. He went on: "Hildebrand's not coming here to ask us how we are, or to give us the Fuehrer's kind regards. Wherever he goes, there is trouble for somebody. His visit here means trouble for us." He sighed heavily.
"It was good in the old days," he said. "When Adolf Hitler was not such a God Almighty, and even used to find time to talk to S.A. Group Leaders. I remember him coming across to me one night and clapping me on the back. That was a few days after the Bremen thing, when I led the twenty-fourth Standarte and kicked hell out of those bloody dock Communists. Those were the days. And I wasn't happy. I wanted promotion. I took the devil's own chances to get it. Goddam it, I even burgled the British Embassy—and got away with it—and all because I wanted promotion. Well... I got it, and here I am... God help me...." He began to laugh as if it were a good joke.
Seitzen said: "I wonder what Hildebrand wants to see us about."
From the other side of the house, where the country road wound in a curve towards the woods, came the sound of a car stopping.
Hiltsch said with a grin: "We shall soon know."
He turned; walked out of the room towards the hallway. In a minute Hildebrand came into the room. He was very tall, very slim, very well-dressed. His complexion was good. He was clean-shaven. He seemed quite a good-humoured individual. He stood just inside the doorway, his soft brown felt hat held in long sensitive fingers. He said very softly:
