Curtain of Fear (14 page)

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 bumps 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 passed 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 passion 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 polishing glasses.

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 shift. 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 glasses, 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.”

“I'm sorry to quit. Please tell everyone that. I've had a long run for my money, but now it's a case of get out or go under. How's the funnel working?”

He poured two generous portions of Slivowitz, and pushed the glasses over. “Pretty good; but those jobs need careful organising. How close are the Com's to catching up on you?”

“I've just got rid of that little swine Kmoch for an hour. If we're still here when he gets back we'll have to go with him. He's not fly yet, but I reckon the balloon will go up about midday. The odds are against my getting a chance to go to earth between leaving here and then; so I'll be up against it unless you can pull a fast one for me.”

Jirka made a wry face. “Any of us would take big risks to get you out of trouble, Fedora; you know that. But it would be asking for coffins all round if we tried to smuggle you aboard a kite without proper preparation.”

Lifting her glass, she said aloud, “Here's damnation to the American imperialist aggressors,” drank a little of the plum
brandy, set it down and added under her breath, “I was afraid that's how it would be. But I could think of no other chance that might save us from having the Com's take us both to little pieces.”

Jirka glanced at Nicholas. “Him as well, eh? To get two of you out would make the job even more difficult.”

She nodded. “I know; but I got him into this, so it's up to me to get him out—if I can. If you can't help us now, have tabs kept on us, and try to get us a break if they take us from headquarters to a prison.”

“I'll do that,” he promised, noisily mopping up his bar with a damp cloth. “But the odds against getting you out once you've been pulled in are pretty poor. Can't you possibly keep yourselves off the ice until this afternoon, then come back? I reckon by then I can fix something.”

“We've no passes, Jirka; so we can't get out of the airport. But talking of ice, what about the cold store?”

He grinned, showing a double row of teeth so even that Nicholas thought they were probably dentures. “You're thinking of the time we had Oldřich in there. Yes, that's certainly an idea. There's so much sabotage goes on these days that they'll hardly give a thought to just one more breakdown in the electric system. You'll have to take a chance on getting pneumonia, but as soon as the current's cut the temperature will start to go up.”

Her eyes brightened. “Could you fix it for us, Jirka? If we could lie low there for a few hours, we'd be over the worst fence. Then, even if you can't work the funnel for us, we could get clear of the airport in the darkness and go to earth somewhere in the city.”

They could only just catch his words, as he began to chip bits off a block of ice with a pick and hammer. “Yes. No one goes in but the store-keeper. He and the electrician are both Legion men. But I've got to get you there. The girls are all reliable except for the blonde at the far end. She's a Com, and was put in here recently to keep tabs on us. She mustn't see that you don't leave by way of the hall. The rest of us will
swear you did when Kmoch starts asking questions. I'll have to get her out of the way. Send her a message she's wanted on the 'phone, or something. You had better get yourselves a meal. All to the good to have something hot inside you. I'll get the electrician to cut the current off, see the store-keeper, then fix the blonde. As soon as you see her leave get up and walk through the door marked ‘Toilet'. Beyond it there's an anteroom. I'll be there to take you along to the store.”

Whispering their thanks, they drank up their Slivowitz, left the bar and went over to the long food counter. Both of them chose stew, as the most sustaining item on the very limited menu, added rolls and cups of coffee to their trays, then carried them over to a table near the door marked ‘Toilet', so that as few people as possible should notice their leaving when the time came for them to slip through it.

Nicholas had been quite worried enough when he had thought that the worst he would have to face was a spell in prison, until the Czechs had definitely satisfied themselves that he was not Bilto and could be persuaded to repatriate him; but the recent conversation had both puzzled and rather scared him; so as they sat down opposite one another, he said, hoping for reassurance:

“You and Jirka weren't speaking literally just now, were you? I mean when you talked about dead ducks, coffins and taking people to little pieces?”

“No,” she said. “Not really. It's just a game we play in these parts. We Czechs have a queer sense of humour. It amuses us to scare people who come from the other side of the Iron Curtain.”

Seeing his look of relief, she went on, “By coffins we mean the decorations our Government dishes out to encourage independence of thought and action.”

He had often read how, at the great Party Conferences in Moscow, the Communist leaders stressed the healthiness of criticism from the lower ranks, and believed it; but from the slight twitching of the corners of her pale mouth, he could see that she was laughing at him; and he said a little sullenly:

“It's obvious that you are against them, and mixed up in some anti-Government movement; so naturally you would like me to
go back believing all the nonsense one hears about the Iron Curtain countries behind held down by terror. But unless they are after you for murder, it is fantastic to suggest that you really fear a death sentence.”

“I don't fear that,” she replied quietly. “Although that's what I'll get if we're caught. I'm not afraid to die. It's the thought of being taken to bits first that's so unpleasant.”

“Oh, come. I know the Communist Party maintain a strict discipline, but there is no resemblance whatever between them and the Nazis. You're pulling my leg again.”

She sighed. “All right. Have it your own way. The truth is that the Nazis were benevolent uncles compared with these people. But you'll find that out for yourself soon enough if they get us. They'll probably start the party by hanging you up by your testicles.”

“Me!” he gasped. “But why? What have
I
done?”

“Plenty! You are the big fish in this pond; I'm only your girl friend.”

“Look here!” he raised his voice suddenly. “I've had enough of this. It's time you gave me an explanation. First you lie like a trooper, to make out that I am my cousin when you know darn'well I'm not. Then …”

With an agonised grimace, he stopped in mid-sentence. She had given him a vicious kick on the shin under cover of the table. Leaning forward, she smiled sweetly, while almost hissing between her teeth:

“Are you crazy? D'you want all Prague to know the jam we're in? For God's sake keep your voice down, or that blonde stool-pigeon will start to take an interest in us. Then she'll smell a rat and refuse to go when Jirka sends to say she's wanted outside.”

He scowled at her, but said in a lower tone, “Sorry, I'm not used to this sort of thing. All the same, if you want me to go through with it, I insist that you tell me the truth about yourself.”

“Now is not the time for that. Either it won't be necessary, or we will have all day to talk about the love-life of the glow
worm and anything else you like, while we are in the cold-room.”

“Between intervals of physical jerks to keep ourselves from freezing, I suppose,” he remarked bitterly.