Complete works of peter.., p.483
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 483
I shrugged my shoulders. He would have to wait.
I gulped down a whisky and soda, filled my cigarette case, seized a hat and hurried round to the garage.
* * *
It was two o'clock when I arrived at Balcombe. I parked the car on the grass verge at the end of the village, turned off the parking lights, locked the car and began to walk quickly up the side road towards Valley House.
It was a lovely night. There was a good moon and the lawns and parkland around the house were silvered by the moonbeams.
The entrance gates of the house were closed and locked. I walked fifty yards down the road, jumped for the top of the estate wall, managed to get a grip, and pulled myself up. I dropped over the wall and, keeping in the shadow of convenient trees, made my way towards the main entrance.
I rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened. I tried again, keeping my finger on the bell for a good minute. I could hear the bell ringing somewhere in the bowels of the house, but no one answered.
I gave it up. I went round the side of the house looking for a convenient window. I found one—a small affair that looked like a pantry window. I thought it big enough for me. I picked up a stone, smashed the glass, undid the catch and wriggled through.
I found myself in a small kitchen. I took out my electric torch and made my way upstairs to the main floor. All the rooms were silent and in darkness. I went to the first, second and third floors. There was no sign of life. The place was deserted.
I went down to the ground floor, sat on the bottom of the main staircase. I lighted a cigarette and did a little quick cursing.
You never knew with women. Even when you thought you'd got them down, and reduced to tears and helpless. Like hell!
Valerie Rockhurst had been like that—tearful and scared. But it hadn't prevented her from collecting her staff, locking the house up and clearing out.
She'd guessed that my threat of having the place put under observation was mere bluff. Anyhow she'd taken a chance and it had come off. I would have bet all the tea in China to a stale egg that she had jumped the last boat for Calais, with her favourite Alsatian under-butler with her.
I thought to hell with her. If I'd found her she might have been able to save me a certain amount of trouble but—I shrugged my shoulders—it would all amount to the same thing in the end, and if she found herself caught up in a bunch of trouble she could blame herself.
I went downstairs, wriggled through my window, walked back to the car. It was a quarter to three and if I was going to make the Old Man's place and get away before daylight I had to do some fast driving.
As I started off I remembered that it was the second or rather the third of August.
IX. — SALVATINI
I GOT down to the Old Man's place at a quarter past four, and nearly burned the tyres off the car doing it. I parked just inside the white gate; walked round to the side door; rang the bell.
Miss Fains, looking very attractive in a black and white check dressing-gown with the top of her frilled nightdress showing at the neck, said: "Good morning. I'm glad you got here in time for breakfast."
I said: "Don't be sarcastic, Fainits. You're talking to a tired and harassed man."
She closed the door behind me. She said: "Like hell! Any time you're harassed I'll fly a flag."
I asked: "How's the Old Man?"
She smiled beatifically. "Stamping with rage. I wouldn't like to be you."
I said in my politest tone of voice: "Nuts!" I walked down the corridor and opened the door of the Old Man's room.
He was sitting at the end of the table between two long candles, set in antique silver candlesticks. The flickering light from the candles didn't add to the joy of his expression. He was wearing a shepherd's plaid dressing-gown and there was a bottle of gin, a carafe of water and a glass in front of him. I noticed the bottle was three-quarters empty.
He said: "For God's sake... I expected you about half-past twelve or one o'clock this morning. If you knew you were going to be as late as this couldn't you have telephoned me?"
I put my hat on the table; drew up a chair; sat down opposite him. I said: "I hadn't time. I made a mistake and I had to make up for it. I had to go to Balcombe before I came here."
He grunted. "Oh, yes...! And how did you find Miss Rockhurst?"
I said: "I didn't. I got into the house through a pantry window. The place was deserted. The birds had flown, which I consider to be an impertinence. I'm annoyed with that girl. She interferes. She flies off at tangents."
He helped himself to some gin; pushed the bottle towards me. He said: "Drink some of this if you like. You'll find a glass in the sideboard. And why are you annoyed with the girl? She's doing her best."
"What the hell do you mean by that one?" I said. "She's doing her best! Like hell she's doing her best. She's making a damned nuisance of herself."
"Is she?" he asked. "Consider, my impatient friend, if it hadn't been for this girl we shouldn't even be next to this thing. I think we owe a devil of a lot to Miss Valerie Rockhurst and the late lamented—or unlamented—Riffenbach."
I found a glass; gave myself a shot. I said: "It was an impertinence because I saw Valerie Rockhurst yesterday afternoon. I told her the place was under observation and that if she or anybody else tried to leave they'd be arrested."
He grinned sarcastically. "Quite obviously she didn't believe you."
I nodded. "It won't make any difference," I told him. "I know where I'll find her."
"Good," he said. He sipped some gin. "Exactly what ishappening? You seem to be giving yourself an amusing time on this job, Kells."
"It hasn't been so amusing," I said. "I was rather stupid, that's all. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble."
"How stupid?" he asked.
"That note from Sabina," I went on, "the one I found on Riffenbach. It didn't occur to me until late yesterday evening that as quite obviously Sabina distrusted Riffenbach, she wouldn't write him a note like that. It also struck me that if she had been put in to keep an eye on him she wouldn't have allowed him to seduce her."
He said: "So what?"
"I came to the conclusion," I told him, "that the letter was in code. I sent it to Woldingham. It was in code, coded through the Russian language. The letter was a threatening letter. It accused Riffenbach of being a liar, a thief and a traitor—pretty strong language. Then it went on to say that in spite of his general nastiness the situation being as it was the plan he had formulated would go through. It also said that the date for delivery of the package was August 5th—that is in two days' time."
He said: "I see. You don't know where the package is to be delivered?"
"I can guess," I said. "Anyway, I'll take a chance on it."
He yawned. "Kells, you always were pretty good at taking a chance. Perhaps you'll give me the whole story."
"It's all fairly simple—now," I said. "But it's been hard putting the pieces together. You gave me the last piece when you gave me that identification of the Zeus brother with the marvellous memory."
He smiled at that one. "You might as well know that I've been able to check on the one who was with him—the other Zeus brother," he said. "Would it surprise you to know that his name is also Riffenbach?"
"No," I said. "I'd guessed that. Here's the story. Riffenbach, who was a Commandant of a Concentration Camp, was arrested by the Russians at the end of the war and taken off to Russia. I take it that the other Riffenbach who looks like his brother knew of this. He also knew that the Russians were looking for a German scientist called Auerstein. So, with the future in mind, he probably told some funny story to Auerstein about what the Russians would do to him if they got him and took him out of Germany, and he's probably been wandering round the world with him ever since doing the Zeus Brothers Act. Then, I take it, somehow he managed to get word to his brother in Russia that he had got Auerstein. He probably thought that his brother could make a deal with them, turn in Auerstein and get his own freedom.
"But our Riffenbach was too clever for that. He just sat down and waited. He'd made up his mind that when he got out of Russia he was getting out for good.
"So then they got Rockie. And Riffenbach saw his chance. He suggested to the Russians that if they wanted Auerstein they could do a deal. He suggested that they exchanged Rockie for Auerstein with himself as the intermediary."
The Old Man nodded. "Very plausible, Kells... very plausible indeed."
"Of course," I went on, "the Russians aren't fools. They distrusted Riffenbach, so they got in touch with a woman agent—I should think she was a pretty hot one too—Sabina, with instructions to contact Riffenbach in England and see that he did the job. Incidentally, I'd take a shade of odds that it was this Sabina who killed Hermione Martin in Paris. She'd left England and gone over there to have a consultation with Marcini.
"So Riffenbach started work. He picked up an old girl called Olga Volanski. He picked her up because the Russians were temporarily keeping him short of money and she had plenty of it. They came over to England and then Riffenbach set about putting the second part of his plan into action."
The Old Man poured some gin into his glass. He asked: "What was that, Kells?" His tone was slightly less acid.
I said: "Riffenbach had not the slightest intention of handing Auerstein over to the Russians in exchange for Rockie. Remember, Auerstein is a German—a very distinguished one. What Riffenbach intended to do was this: He knew Rockie and he knew his sister, or he'd heard of her. He knew they had lots of money. So he went down to Balcombe and saw her. He told her that if she liked to pay him twenty thousand pounds he'd produce Rockie. Clever, wasn't it?"
The Old Man said: "Not bad. These Germans have a lot of brains, you know."
I went on: "He was able to convince her that what he said was the truth."
The Old Man asked: "How did he intend to carry out this deal?"
I said: "It's fairly simple. This Sabina—his Russian boss— was running a dress shop in Bruton Street called Yvette Cambeau. Riffenbach wanted to link up with the Secret Service here. Well, it was easy enough. He'd been warned about me. He knew I was sticking my nose into the Rockhurst business. So he threw a party and caused an invitation to be sent to me. The invitation ostensibly came from Madame Olga Volanski.
"I went. I took Carla with me. If Riffenbach hadn't been drunk that night he might have talked business to me then. But he was cock-eyed, so he let it go. And being cock-eyed, because he was stuck on Carla he took her out to the house at Forest Hills and tried to make her. But she wasn't playing; and anyway he was probably too drunk. But he told her he could make her a lot of money. It's fairly simple, isn't it? He intended to see me— probably the next day. He was going to tell me that an exchange— Rockie for Auerstein—had been laid on. He was going to tell me that that exchange would take place in a neutral country. That's commonsense. The Russians certainly wouldn't bring Rockie over here and Auerstein certainly wouldn't go into Russia. Besides, Valerie Rockhurst would probably have had something to say about that. She'd probably told Riffenbach that the exchange must take place in her Villa in the Pas de Calais.
"Then Sabina became a little suspicious. They'd probably been watching Riffenbach and wondered what the hell he was at. So she got tough with him and he stalled her by simply telling her that the deal was going through as arranged, but that he'd decided to make a little money on the side. Because he'd got Valerie's twenty thousand pounds. Sabina didn't like this, but what the devil could she do? That's what she meant by the note. It was necessary that his plan should go through."
The Old Man nodded. He said grudgingly: "Not bad, Kells. It looks like common sense to me."
I grinned at him. I finished my drink; went round the table; picked up the bottle and emptied it into my glass. I said: "You can take it from me that it's right enough. Riffenbach was going to see me and tell me the whole story. He was going to suggest that we kept this appointment for the exchange, took Rockie and refused to hand over Auerstein who should be brought back to England. In return for this Riffenbach was going to ask me for a haven—probably for the rest of his life—in England, and a guarantee that no proceedings under the War Crimes Act would be brought against him. He had quite a brain, this Riffenbach."
The Old Man grunted. "The damn fool would probably have got away with it. You'd have certainly agreed to his terms, instead of which he has to get drunk, talk a lot of nonsense to that Polish woman Carla and then shoot himself accidentally." He grinned. "There's many a slip," he said.
He looked at the empty bottle; went to the sideboard; produced a fresh one. He asked: "What are you going to do now?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "There's only one thing for me to do. That's to go on following my nose. The Zeus Brothers were performing at the Cossaque Club. They left suddenly. The Manager told me they'd forgotten a contract and had to keep it. That was baloney. Riffenbach's brother is taking old man Auerstein like a lamb to the slaughter! All I can do is to get over to France as quickly as I can." I looked at my watch. "It's twenty to five. If I can get off in a few minutes I'll get the first boat from Dover. I don't want to fly; it's too dangerous... maybe they'll have somebody at the airport in France, and one's too easily recognised on a plane. So I'll take the boat."
The Old Man said: "All right. I'll get word telephoned through to Salvatini. Where do you want to meet him?"
I said: "I'll meet Salvatini at three o'clock this afternoon, the third of August, at the Café Liègois in Boulogne. What we do then depends on what he knows. Do you think he knows much?"
The Old Man shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what he knows. You'll have to do your best. Do you want another drink?"
I said: "No thank you, sir." I picked up my hat. "Good night... I'll be seeing you."
It was only when I got to the door that the Old Man said: "I hope so, Kells, for your sake! By the way, if things get really tough, and you have to have a show-down, Salvatini has a contact with the French Second Bureau à Commissaire Velin. You can use the French police through him if you have to. Salvatini knows where to get him. He'll have a car waiting for you at Calais. Good night."
* * *
The Invicta arrived at Calais just after two. I stood in the stern gangway, watching the people on the quay—the usual horde of Customs officials, tourists and the varied assembly that one finds at Calais. Then I thought I saw somebody waving to me. Then I made certain that somebody was waving to me.
She was standing on the other side of the railway line just outside the Customs House. She was a neat, well-figured young woman of, I imagined, about twenty-five years of age, and she was wearing a very well-cut tweed coat and skirt and brown brogue shoes. She looked very attractive.
I waved back. I thought that anyway one might try anything once. Then I went off the boat; walked over the railway line. She came towards me.
She said: "Good afternoon, Mr. Kells." She spoke very good English, but I could just detect the undertone of a foreign accent.
I said: "Good afternoon. Should I know you?"
"That's for you to decide, Mr. Kells. But I was told that you might be crossing on a boat to-day, so I came here on the chance of meeting you."
I said: "This is very nice. Tell me, why did you want to meet me? It wouldn't be my manly beauty or anything, would it?"
She laughed. She shook her head. "No, Mr. Kells. Although"— she looked at me archly—"it might have been! But I have a message for you. Could we go somewhere where I could give it to you?"
I said: "Of course. Would you like some lunch? We'll go into the refreshment room."
She said: "No. But I'd like to drink a cup of coffee with you."
We went into the restaurant next to the Customs shed. I ordered coffee. I wondered just exactly what the game was and how long she was going to be telling her message. I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past two and my appointment with Mario Salvatini was at three o'clock at the Café Liègois, Boulogne. I could do it in half an hour, so I had ten minutes to spare. The waiter brought the coffee.
When he had gone away I asked: "Well, Mademoiselle, or Miss or Senorita—or whatever it is—what about this mysterious message?"
She said: "There's nothing very mysterious about it, Mr. Kells. But I believe that you desire very much to meet a lady called Yvette Cambeau."
I looked at her. Her face was perfectly innocent. She was smiling. Only her eyes were hard.
I said: "I should very much like to meet Madame Cambeau. Did she send you to see me?"
She nodded. "Madame Cambeau desired me to tell you that she thinks that you are inclined to be making a mountain out of some mole-hills. She said I was to tell you that any little differences of opinion between you two might easily be put right. She asked if you would like to see her—in confidence, of course."
I said: "I should—very much."
"Well, that is excellent, Mr. Kells..." She went on: "About fifteen miles inland behind Boulogne there is a small village called Lozalle-le-Pont. There is only one house of any size in Lozalle. It is at the top and to the right of the main road and you can see Madame Cambeau there to-night at eleven o'clock."
I did some quick thinking. It was the third of August—two days to go before the arrangements for the delivery of the "package." Was the mysterious Yvette Cambeau being serious? Was this a ruse to gain time or make me lose a day. I shrugged my shoulders. What difference could that make.
The girl opposite me said: "Madame Cambeau desired me to tell you that you need have no fear, Mr. Kells. She suggested that if you felt that this might be some sort of plot against you, she would have no objection to your informing the Boulogne police where you were going. She suggested they might even like to call for you about midnight if you so desired." She looked at me archly. Her face broke into an attractive smile. She went on: "I assure you, Mr. Kells, there's nothing for you to be afraid of."
"Thanks a lot. I wasn't thinking particularly about my own hide. Very well. Tell Madame Cambeau that I shall be with her at eleven o'clock."
