Complete works of peter.., p.362
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 362
The girl certainly knew her stuff. During the last half-hour she had twisted and turned that car all over the countryside. Fells, who had tried in the beginning to note the direction, had become quite bemused now. He had not the slightest idea where they were.
Foden said suddenly: "A penny for your thoughts, my friend."
Fells grinned. "They're not worth that," he said. "I was just thinking that this girl is a damned good driver. By the way, just where are we?"
Foden asked: "Does that worry you?" He went on: "She's a good girl, Schlieken found her about six years ago. She was a maidservant working for a family in Berlin. I don't know how he came across her. He trained her for three years. Now look at her. She speaks two languages and"—he laughed quietly—"she's been over here for eighteen months. She works for a car-hire firm—a very good operative!"
Fells asked: "Does she get her stuff back to Germany?"
Foden shook his head. "No," he said. "That's the old system. It creaks. She waits over here till someone comes over here to get it from her. Too many good people have been lost by trying to work that antiquated post office system of getting information out of a country. It's old-fashioned. We don't do that any more."
Fells asked casually: "Do the English?"
Foden looked at him sideways. "Of course," he said slowly, "you wouldn't know. You've probably been out of touch with that sort of work for some time. Candidly, we don't quite know what the English are doing." He threw his cigarette stub out of the window. "You know," he said slowly, "the English are not fools. There's always been this idea that British Intelligence Services are bad—this sort of ridiculous Colonel Blimp idea. As a matter of fact many of these English Colonel Blimps are very much more clever than the people who decry them know. In any event there are quite a lot of things to be learned from the English." He smiled. "We have been learning them," he said.
Fells said: "It's a surprise to me to hear that Schlieken has anything to learn from the English."
Foden said: "My dear Fells, "that's where you make a great mistake. Schlieken will learn from anybody. That is his great virtue. There are two great things about Schlieken. One is that, as you probably know, he is a very brave and cunning man. Secondly, he is a man who has always the most open mind. He's always seeking to find some better way of doing something."
Fells nodded. He said: "I know. Schlieken is a man of many surprises."
"How right you are," said Foden. "And I'll guarantee you something, my dear Fells. I'll guarantee that he will give you an even greater surprise than you've ever had before."
"That's going to be very interesting," said Fells. "When do I get surprised?"
Foden looked at his wrist-watch. He said: "Any minute now."
The car had mounted the hill. Now they were driving along a road which ran between two small woods. As they descended the hill on the other side, the breeze came through the car windows with added vigour. Fells realised that they were near the sea.
The trees were thick on each side of the road. The car began to slow down. Then it stopped. The girl who was driving looked over her shoulder. She pushed back the glass panel. She said, with a little smile:
"I think this is the place, Mr. Foden."
Foden said: "Yes, this is the place." He said to Fells: "Shall we get out?"
Fells got out of the car. Foden followed him. They stood on the grass verge at the edge of the road. Everything was very quiet except for the noise of the night breeze in the trees and the rustling of dead leaves. Somewhere near them Fells heard a rotten twig snap. He turned towards the noise.
A man came out of the shadows. He walked towards them. It was some time before Fells could see his face.
Foden said: "Here is your surprise, Fells. This is a meeting of old friends."
The man was quite near to them now. He was smiling. Fells could see the little eyes behind the pince-nez. He said under his breath:
"My God! Schlieken....!"
Foden heard him. He said: "I thought that would surprise you."
The man said: "Congratulations, my dear Foden. You have done very well." He put his hands out and patted Fells's shoulders. "How delighted I am to meet you once again, my dear Fells," he said. "This is indeed a happy meeting. Excuse me one minute."
He moved towards the car. He said to the girl very softly: "I have very good reports of you, Karla. You are doing very well. One day, when you return to the Fatherland, you will find a decoration waiting for you."
The girl said: "Thank you, Herr Direktor." Her face glowed.
Schlieken came back. Fells said to him:
"You're the most amazing man I have ever met in my life. I don't think there's anybody quite like you."
Schlieken shrugged his shoulders. He said: "You make a mistake, my dear Fells—you who so seldom make mistakes. I am not at all amazing. I do the obvious, simple, things. Figure to yourself," he said, "it is quite obvious to me that our delightful—our very brilliant—friend Quayle believes that I am sitting somewhere in my office in the Friedrichstrasse controlling my organisation." He laughed softly. "I wonder what the delightful Quayle would say," he went on, "if he knew that for the last nine months I have been living in a charming little house in the country about seventeen miles outside London, controlling my small but extremely good organisation in this country."
He stopped speaking. He said abruptly to Foden: "What is the time? How long have we to wait?"
Foden said: "About ten minutes; then we can move."
"Are the other two here?" Schlieken asked.
Foden nodded. "They will meet us a little further along," he said. "They will be waiting now."
Schlieken said: "Good." He turned to Fells. "My dear Party-comrade here," he went on, "may have told you my idea which we put into operation three years ago. For six months before the war the English were getting very panicky. They took all sorts of precautions so I conceived the idea of leaving all my operatives in England, cutting them off from headquarters, letting them stew in their own juice, as you English say. One or two of them I knew were all right. I knew where I could get in touch with them. The rest of them—I let them go. The English got some. Quayle got at least a dozen and I don't think he was at all happy about it. He could not conceive how it was that these men—well-trained and, as he thought, well organised—were just left here with no channels of information or communication for them to use. I think it worried him a great deal."
Fells said: "It must have worried him."
Schlieken went on: "But I knew that of that number there were fifteen or so who were much too smart to worry about not being able to communicate with the Fatherland. I got in touch with them for the first eighteen months by sending people over and getting them out afterwards. We used a little scheme which was planned originally by Foden here. It worked excellently. I do not believe that, except in perhaps one or two cases, the English have ever realised just what we were doing.
"Then," Schlieken continued, "when the time came I paid our friend Mr. Quayle the supreme insult. I decided to come here myself." Schlieken laughed. "Really," he said, "I would like to know what he would say if he knew that at this moment I was standing here with you and Foden discussing this business so amiably."
Fells said: "You took a hell of a chance, Schlieken."
Schlieken shook his head. "No," he said. "Shall I tell you why I didn't take a chance. Listen, my friend: Always I have been a man who likes to have a way of escape. I am a man who always looks for the back door in case I have to get out quickly. You understand? It occurred to me before I came here to England that possibly our good Quayle and his colleagues might have a little more intelligence than they usually show. I had to think of some water-tight scheme for making my exit from England a certainty. I thought of one."
He laid his hand on the lapel of Fells's coat. "You!" he said.
Fells said: "That was very clever."
"It was intelligent," said Schlieken. "I looked at it from this point of view: When I wanted to get out we should get Foden in. You know how we got Foden in. He's probably told you. His background was perfect. His service in Morocco was perfect. Years ago he went to the English. He gave them information which they did not want, because they knew it already. But the fact made them trust him. Then he was interned in a Vichy camp. He then arranged to come to England, because he had important information to give, the English—true information," said Schlieken, "but information which we did not mind giving them. We knew Foden would get in. The thing was would he get out? Then," said Schlieken, "I thought of you. It seemed obvious to me that if Foden could get next to Quayle—if he could work himself into a position in which any superior branch of British Intelligence came in contact with him, it was a certainty that he would be passed on to Quayle. And what would Quayle do? Quayle would most certainly put him on to Fells—his expert on Morocco."
Fells said nothing. Schlieken's smile was charming. He continued: "How did we know that? We knew it because we knew Fells was working for Quayle." He put his hand on the lapel of Fells's coat again. "Do not misunderstand me, my dear friend," he said. "Don't think I am accusing you of any disloyalty to me. You were left here by me at the beginning of the war—you who had worked so loyally and faithfully for me for sometime before the war. It was quite obvious that as a good servant of the Reich—as a good servant of myself—you would naturally endeavour to become employed by some branch of the British Intelligence, so that when the time came we could have the benefit of your knowledge and experience. Is that not so?"
Fells said: "You are always right, Schlieken. He thought: God help you, Fells. They know all about you. Your number's up!
"Very well," said Schlieken. "So I concluded that Quayle would put Foden on to Fells; that Quayle would believe that Foden's one idea would be to get Fells out of England into Germany—back to Schlieken. So that he, Quayle, would know that he had near to him in Berlin—near the hub of the Reich external intelligence department—a man in whom he is foolish enough to have confidence. He would believe that at least one of those very brave and clever Englishmen that he has operating in the Reich—and unfortunately we have not got all of them yet—would be able to make a contact with you. In other words, he deluded himself that he would actually start an information service from my central office back to him in London." Schlieken sighed. "Such impertinence!"
Foden said: "Excuse me, but the time is getting on. I think we should move."
"Very well," said Schlieken. "Just as you say, Foden. This is your party."
Foden said softly to the girl: "Good-bye, Karla. Be good. Work hard and bravely for your Führer. When the time comes we shall take you back to Germany."
The girl made a little movement with her hand. She said very quietly: "Heil, Hitler!" She turned the car. In a minute its rear light had disappeared over the brow of the hill.
Foden said: "Herr Direktor, I regret that you will have to walk a little way."
Schlieken said: "Why not? You always tell me that I never get enough exercise, Foden. Let us walk."
They began to walk down the hill. The trees began to thin out. The road narrowed into a path. Two men came out of the shadows of a little thicket.
Foden said: "Here they are—Valetz and Kuhler. Good-evening, gentlemen."
The two men said good-evening. One of them was wearing a suit of plus-fours and no overcoat. The other looked like a city man. He had a dark-blue overcoat and bowler hat. They followed a few paces behind.
By now the footpath had disappeared. They were walking through bracken. Fells could see the line of the cliffs descending on his left, terminating in what looked like a plateau. Away in the distance in the moonlight he could see a lone house. They walked for a few minutes. They were within a hundred yards of the cliff edge.
Foden said: "I believe we should walk carefully here. The cleft is narrow."
They entered a cleft which ran down through the cliffs to the beach.
Then Fells remembered. The lone house he had seen at the bottom of the hillside was the public house where he had met Greeley and the other two—the Box of Compasses! He smiled bitterly.
They walked down the cleft. As they neared the bottom the cliff walls rose on each side of them. In front the shingle and sand—white in the moonlight—sloped down steeply to the sea. The tide was high. The white horses on the sea blown up by the gale came in towards them on the wave-tops.
Fells leaned against the side of the cleft. He breathed in the air deeply. His mind for some odd reason was concerned with all sorts of little things that had happened to him in his life. Not the great things—only the little things. He thought it odd that the mind should run in such strange grooves at a time like this.
He began to think about Tangier....
They stood on the shingle at the mouth of the cleft. Schlieken and Foden in front, with Fells just behind them, and Valetz and Kuhler between the cliff walls still farther back. Foden shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed out to sea. He muttered to himself angrily, for although the night was fine a sea mist hung over the water a hundred yards out. Beyond that one could see nothing.
Schlieken asked: "Is this the time? How long do we wait, my friend?"
Foden said: "They have to be careful—very careful. There are those cursed Coastal Command planes, and the naval patrol. Still, they should be all right." He turned to smile at Schlieken. "They are using a boat like a British 'M' boat," he said. "That makes it a lot easier for them."
Schlieken nodded. He turned to Fells, He said: "Our friend is good, is he not? A good workman, our Mr. Foden."
Foden said: "Ah, listen!"
From beyond the mist came the sound of a gull calling. Twice... three times....
Foden ran back into the cover of the cleft walls. He brought out a flash-lamp. He flicked it on and off three times. He said: "Good... they are here!"
Schlieken looked at Fells. He smiled.
The boat came suddenly out of the mist. It was headed straight for them. It came on at a terrific rate, its bows cutting up the sea into a white foam.
Valetz and Kuhler came out of the cleft.
The boat was fifty yards from the shore. Then, as the engines were, reversed, and she slowed abruptly, almost under the shadow of the shelving beach, the white beam of a searchlight broke from the boat's bows, blinding the watching men on the shore.
"Achtung!" Foden's voice was almost a shriek. Schlieken began to blaspheme horribly. Then Fells saw the Mauser pistol in Foden's hand and flung himself flat on the shingle. Foden started to shoot, shouting in German.
A tommy-gun began to chatter. Fells raising his head, saw in the side beam of the searchlight, sitting in the bows of the boat, swaying with the bucking of the tommy-gun—Greeley.... Greeley grinning.
He pushed his head down into the shingle. Now Schlieken was almost beside him, both hands to his stomach, writhing, drooling at the mouth, making unintelligible sounds.... Near him Foden lay still. The tommy-gun was silent. Fells could hear the bows of the boat on the shingle. He looked up.
Quayle was on the beach, splashing through the water. Behind him, the tommy-gun under his arm, came Greeley, his shirt soaked with blood.
Fells got up. He began to walk down the beach. He walked fast. He could feel his hands trembling.
He said: "Quayle... you've got Schlieken... you've got Schlieken...!"
Quayle said: "I know... I'm damned glad. I had to play you to get him. See?"
Fells nodded.
Quayle smiled. "Nice work, Fells," he said. "I'm much obliged to you."
Fells walked with Quayle across the scrub in the direction of the Box of Compasses. The night breeze was freshening. Fells drew the air into his lungs gratefully. He said:
"I suppose the greatest moment of my life was when I saw Greeley in the bows of that boat."
"Quayle said: "So you were surprised. It wasn't so difficult as I thought. I think I know most of their ways in and out of this country; I ought to. But I wasn't certain as to whether they'd take this one or another one and I had to be very careful. I daren't have people watching." He laughed.
"I'm awfully sorry Foden didn't live long enough for me to tell him that he gave it away."
Fells said: "Foden gave it away...?"
Quayle said: "Horace Greeley and Foden had an evening with a young woman called Mayola Green. She gave Foden a Mickey Finn—a very weak one. Before he had quite come out of it she put him to sleep again with a little mixture I have"—he smiled wryly in the darkness—"held under the nostrils. You know an anaesthetic usually makes people talk, and Foden had been repressed for such a long time; he's been playing the part of Foden for so long; that I guessed he'd have to talk a little."
"And he talked?" Fells asked.
"Enough," Quayle went on. "He talked about Schlieken. He talked about the tides, and then Mayola Green said he talked about 'boxing the compass.' She misunderstood. Foden said 'The Box of Compasses.'"
Fells said: "Poor old Foden."
"Then I knew it had to be here," said Quayle—"that and the remark about the tides. You realise that the tide has got to be right here in order to get a fair-sized motor-boat right up under the shelf of the beach. We had their boat dealt with by the naval patrol, and we slipped in a little late."
They were half-way across the scrub. On one of the pathways they passed Foden's hired car. The girl stood beside it. Two men were with her.
Quayle stopped. He said in German: "Too bad, Karla.... The Herr Direktor wasn't quite as clever as he thought."
Her mouth worked spasmodically: Then, as Quayle began to move away from her, she spat in his face.
He took out his handkerchief. He said to Fells:
"Such a nice little thing, isn't she?"
Fells said: "What about Greeley?"
"It's nothing," said Quayle. Foden's first shot hit him sideways—straight across the stomach. It's taken out a nice little ridge. A lot of blood but nothing that really matters. Greeley will be all right in a fortnight."
