There was a long, heavy silence, then Homer said, looking at Diestl, “He’s right. I was against using those two from the start. We’ll have to get rid of them.”
“They can stay here,” Ames said coldly. “We needn’t send them out on missions, but I don’t want to lose them. They are useful.”
“Yes,” Diestl said. “Keep them here.” His black, hard eyes searched Corridon’s face. “What other suggestions have you to make?”
Corridon shrugged.
“As I haven’t much idea how you run your organization or how you keep in touch with your members, I can’t very well do your thinking for you. I am willing to look your members over, and any I recognize I can point out to you. I think it is most likely Ritchie already has some of his men working for you. You mustn’t overlook the fact that he isn’t very interested in the small fry. He’ll hold his hand until he is sure of nabbing the Leader.”
“Would you suggest we get rid of Ritchie?” Diestl asked silkily.
Corridon said without hesitation, “He is the brains and guts of O.S.S.5. Get rid of him and you’d slow down their activities. But it wouldn’t be for long. There are always other men to replace him.”
“But perhaps not so clever?”
“That is possible.”
“So you think it would be a sound move to get rid of Ritchie?”
Corridon smiled jeeringly.
“It would, if you could do it. He doesn’t exactly offer himself for assassination, you know.”
“But it is possible?”
Corridon shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
There was a pause, then Diestl said, “Would you care to undertake the job?”
“It depends,” Corridon said. “What would it be worth?”
Diestl frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look, I am in this racket for what I can get out of it,” Corridon returned. “I’m not one of your soft-headed cranks who believe in new regimes. I’ll remove Ritchie for a thousand pounds, paid into my bank, half down and half when the job is done.”
“I understand from what you said just now,” Diestl said icily, “that you and Ritchie were friends.”
“I didn’t say that. I said we worked together.”
“And you are prepared to get rid of him for us?”
“Certainly, on my terms.”
“Aren’t your motive a little mercenary?”
“Certainly,” Corridon said and smiled. “What of it?”
“And if we agreed to your terms, how could you set about it?”
“I have no idea,” Corridon returned. “It would be a difficult job. It would need a lot of planning and thought. But this I assure you, it can be done, and I can do it.”
“We’ll consider your offer,” Diestl said. “It may not be necessary. If Ritchie died, the repercussions might be serious. If you attempted to kill him and failed, we could be in serious trouble. But if we do decide to take the risk, you will be given the first chance of doing the job. If you succeed, I see no reason why you shouldn’t become an active member of this organization and be rewarded suitably. If you fail, then I doubt very much if we shall have much use for you. Is that agreeable to you?”
Corridon lifted his massive shoulders.
“As I have never failed yet in removing a pest, the alternative doesn’t alarm me. We are agreed then, if I do the job, I get a thousand and become a member. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Corridon said. “It certainly looks as if I’ve come to the right camp.”
III
The dining-hall was a long, narrow, high-ceilinged room, overlooking the terraced garden. The walls were oak panelled and adorned with a number of modern French paintings. The dozen long tables were laid with glittering silver and decorated with expensive, hothouse flowers.
Corridon took his place between Feydak on his right and Ames on his left. He felt slightly conspicuous in his white boiler suit, and was aware that many eyes looked curiously at him as he sat down.
The tables were occupied by an extraordinarily motley crew of men and women. Some of them were middle-aged, some young. None of them looked what they were: saboteurs, spies and murderers. The girls, Corridon thought, after a quick, calculated stare, were a ghastly lot, wearing shapeless clothes, all shapes and sizes, and most of them with hair like birds’ nests. A typical bunch of unwashed Bohemians, he thought, suitable only for causing trouble.
He noticed at a table away from the windows there were six men in boiler suits similar to the one he wore. Most of them were elderly; all of them appeared to be listless and they sat silent, none of them paying any attention to the others.
“Surely I should be with those gentlemen over there?” Corridon said to Feydak. “I feel I’m making the place look untidy by being with you.”
“Well, no,” Feydak said with his quick, uneasy smile. “You are on probation, but those men are prisoners.”
“I am glad to hear there is that shade of difference,” Corridon said sarcastically. “How long do you think I shall have to wear this get-up? The disc on my back has unpleasant associations.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Ames said with a sour smile. “So long as you don’t attempt to escape, you will be all right.”
“That is encouraging news,” Corridon said. “I have no intention of trying to escape.”
“You are to begin work this afternoon,” Feydak said. “We have a very special job for you. I believe you understand time-fuses and the like?”
Corridon helped himself to roast potatoes. The food looked excellent.
“I know as much as the next man. What’s the job?”
“We wish to disable two generators at a certain power station. Two of the engineers who actually work in the plant are with us. We want you to show them how to disable the generators. We have all the necessary blueprints and photographs. Can you do that?”
“Certainly,” Corridon said. “What do I get out of it?”
“Nothing,” Ames snapped. “You either do what you’re told or you can spend a week in a cell. Please yourself.”
Corridon grinned at him.
“Then obviously I must do what I’m told.”
Later, as they were finishing an excellent lunch, Corridon said to Feydak, “So much has happened since I arrived here I haven’t had the chance to enquire after your charming sister. How is she?”
Feydak changed colour.
“Oh, she’s all right,” he said.
“Shall I see her here?”
Feydak’s face became a grimacing mask.
“Of course not,” he said. “She knows nothing about this organization – nothing at all!”
Ames tapped Corridon’s arm.
“We don’t encourage such talk here,” he said softly and Corridon was aware that Ames’ eyes were on Feydak: inquisitive, hard eyes.
“Have you met his sister?” Corridon said affably. “She’s a lovely girl.” He glanced at the women in the room. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to choose from here, is there? I find these arty-looking, unwashed women a little tiresome, don’t you?”
Ames’ cold eyes flickered.
“They are nothing much,” he said.
“That scarcely comes into it,” Feydak said getting control of himself. “They are here for service, and they do remarkably good work.”
“I should imagine they do,” Corridon said with his jeering smile. “They are not suited for any other pursuit, are they?”
He wasn’t sure, but he had an idea that Ames was tacitly agreeing with him.
“Wasn’t it you who put Milly Lawes out of action?” he went on, turning to Ames.
“What of it?” Ames said with a sneering smile. “She was scarcely better than this cattle, and besides, she was a thief.”
“Yes, I’m afraid she was. I knew her moderately well. Unfortunately that type of girl usually is. Give me the enthusiastic amateur any day of the week.”
Ames gave him a long searching look, but he didn’t say anything.
“One of these days,” Corridon went on, “you and I must paint the town red. I know a couple of lively girls who are amusing.” He went on to describe just how amusing they were.
He saw a flicker of interest in Ames’ face as he shamelessly extolled each girl’s talents while Feydak regarded him with undisguised disgust.
Ames abruptly pushed back his chair and stood up, cutting Corridon’s licentious descriptions short.
“We will have to get to know each other a lot better than we do now,” he said, his eyes glittering suspiciously, “before we go on that kind of a party.”
Corridon grinned.
“We have time,” he said. “You will find it worth waiting for.”
During the afternoon, Corridon worked with the two engineers from the power station. He showed them how to wreck the generators, and taught them the uses of time fuses, guncotton primers and the like. As individuals they interested him: two dissatisfied young men, full of imaginary grievances, determined to get their own back on society, disinterested in anyone’s well-being except their own. They told him they had joined the United European Movement because they were sick of the present system and wanted to see a change. Corridon pretended to agree with them, secretly astonished that they should accept and believe Homer’s clap-trap about a new regime.
Later, when the lesson was over and Corridon was alone in the laboratory, Feydak came quietly into the big, airy room.
“Were they satisfactory?” he asked.
Corridon lifted his shoulders.
“They’re all right. They’ll do the job if that’s what you mean, but whether or not they’ll blow themselves sky high at the same time I wouldn’t know.”
“So long as they do the job,” Feydak said, and bit his lower lip while he stared at Corridon. “I would take it as a favour if you did not mention Lorene in front of Ames. He is a very difficult man, and he is over-fond of women.”
Corridon raised his eyebrows.
“You can scarcely blame me for mentioning her. I was under the impression she was one of the movement’s most ardent members.”
“Certainly not!” Feydak went pale. “You must never say that to anyone!”
“But let us be reasonable. She does know about the organization.”
“Very little. I’m afraid I have let slip a word here and there, but I don’t want her to get mixed up in it.”
“And why not? It seems a very excellent cause.”
“It’s too dangerous. I am very fond of Lorene,” Feydak said, clenching his fists. “I would be grateful to you to say nothing about this to anyone.”
“But surely Diestl knows she…”
“He doesn’t!”
“This doesn’t quite add up, you know. Diestl used her to trap me. You’re not forgetting that, are you?”
Feydak caught hold of Corridon’s arm.
“Please listen to me. That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have allowed it. It was Diestl’s idea. He was in the club when you arrived. He knew you were working for Ritchie. He had seen you and the detective go to Milly Lawes’ flat. He told Lorene to make friends with you. I swear she didn’t know what was being planned. If Ames has the slightest suspicion that she knows anything about the movement, he will have her brought here and put in protective custody. You know what that means.”
“Don’t get excited,” Corridon said smoothly. “I am very fond of Lorene, and I don’t wish her any harm. But we may be a little late. Ames is no fool. When I mentioned her, he locked curiously at you. Did you notice?”
Feydak took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands and face.
“If Lorene was brought here…”
“You mustn’t worry,” Corridon said lightly. “If he asks me about her, I shall endeavour to lull his suspicions.”
“Be careful what you say to him. He is very dangerous. He was the head of the Gestapo in Frankfurt during the war. No one is safe from him. I am telling you this because I know you are fond of Lorene. I – I suppose I am putting myself in your power.”
Corridon laughed.
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“You wouldn’t like anything to happen to Lorene?” Feydak said, his eyes searching Corridon’s face.
“Certainly not.”
“Then I can trust you?”
“Of course.”
Feydak hesitated, then he gave Corridon a ghost of a smile.
“I must go. It’s dangerous to talk in this place. I can rely on you to say nothing?”
“As one party member to another,” Corridon said, his eyes suddenly hard, “you have my word.”
“Thank you.”
For several minutes after Feydak had gone, Corridon remained in the laboratory, thinking. The success of his venture depended on gaining the confidence of Ames. In a way he felt sorry for Feydak who was after all just a weak, easily-swayed young fool. Corridon didn’t hesitate for long. He moved quietly from the room and walked down the corridor towards Homer’s office.
Homer was just coming out of his room and he beamed at Corridon.
“Ah, Mr. Corridon. Have you had a successful afternoon’s work?”
“Highly,” Corridon said. “Can you tell me,” he went on, “where I can find Comrade Ames?”
Homer’s smiled stiffened.
“Did you want him?”
“Yes, I wanted him.”
“Ames isn’t a very sociable type of fellow,” Homer said uneasily. “I wouldn’t advise you to – to bother him. Is there something I can do?”
“I don’t think so. Ames told me to see him after I had instructed my pupils, but perhaps it is sufficient to report to you.”
“Oh no,” Homer said hurriedly. “If he asked to see you, that is another matter. You will find him upstairs. His door faces the bead of the stairs.”
Corridon came to the conclusion that both Feydak and Homer were afraid of Ames. That could be a useful card to play at the right time.
“Thank you,” he said, and walked down the corridor to the stairs, aware that Homer was staring after him. As he mounted the stairs, he glanced back. Homer was still standing motionless looking after him. He watched Corridon knock on Ames’ door.
“Come in.”
Corridon turned the handle, pushed open the door and walked into a small, neat room furnished as an office with a bed under the window.
Ames was writing at the desk. He glanced up sharply.
“Well?”
Corridon came farther into the room and closed the door. He was again aware of a strong aroma of brandy coming from Ames.
“Feydak has just asked me not to mention his sister in your presence,” he said. “He tells me you are over-fond of women, and if you knew he had blabbed to her about the organization, you would bring her here and keep her in protective custody. He mentioned you are very dangerous, and during the war you were the head of the Gestapo in Frankfurt. That item of information could easily get you hanged, but, you probably know that better than I do.”