The Spy Quartet: An Expensive Place to Die, Spy Story, Yesterday’s Spy, Twinkle Twinkle Little Spy

‘I know her well enough to know that she could have tried a lot harder,’ I said.

‘You didn’t show that sort of confidence a couple of minutes ago,’ said Maria. ‘Scrambling out of the way when you thought I was going to run you down.’

‘What’s confidence?’ I said. ‘Smiling as you fall off a cliff to prove that you’ve jumped?’

‘That’s what it is,’ said Maria and she leaned forward and gave me a tiny kiss, but I refused to be placated. ‘Where’s your contact?’

‘This is it,’ said Maria, playing for time. I grabbed her arm and clutched it tight. ‘Don’t play for time,’ I told her. ‘You said you’re the case officer. So take Kuang and start to run him.’ She looked at me blankly. I shook her.

‘They should be here,’ she said. ‘A boat.’ She pointed along the jetty. We stared into the darkness. A small boat moved into the pool of light cast by the loading freighter. It turned towards us.

‘They will want to load the boxes from the ambulance.’

‘Hold it,’ I told her. ‘Take your payment first.’

‘How did you know?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘You bring Datt’s dossiers as far as this, using your ingenuity, your knowledge of police methods and routes, and if the worst comes to the worst you use your influence with your ex-husband. For what? In return Datt will give you your own dossier and film, etc. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Then let them worry about loading.’ The motor boat was closer now. It was a high-speed launch; four men in pea-jackets stood in the stern. They stared towards us but didn’t wave or call. As the boat got to the stone steps, one man jumped ashore. He took the rope and made it fast to a jetty ring. ‘The boxes,’ I called to them. ‘Your papers are here.’

‘Load first,’ said the sailor who had jumped ashore.

‘Give me the boxes,’ I said. The sailors looked at me and at Kuang. One of the men in the boat made a motion with his hand and the others took two tin boxes, adorned with red seals, from the bottom of the boat and passed them to the first man, who carried them up the steps to us.

‘Help me with the boxes,’ said Maria to the Chinese sailor.

I still had hold of her arm. ‘Get back into the ambulance and lock the doors from inside,’ I said.

‘You said I should start …’

I pushed her roughly towards the driver’s door.

I didn’t take my eyes off Maria but on the periphery of my vision to the right I could see a man edging along the side of the ambulance towards me. He kept one hand flat against the side of the vehicle, dabbing at the large scarlet cross as if testing to see if the paint was wet. I let him come to within arm’s length and still without swivelling my head I flicked out my hands so that my fingertips lashed his face, causing him to blink and pull back. I leaned a few inches towards him while sweeping my hand back the way it had come, slapping him not very hard across the side of the cheek.

‘Give over,’ he shouted in English. ‘What the hell are you on?’

‘Get back in the ambulance,’ Maria called to him. ‘He’s harmless,’ she said. ‘A motor accident on the road. That’s how I got through the blocks so easily.’

‘You said Ostend hospital,’ said the boy.

‘Stay out of this, sonny,’ I said. ‘You are in danger even if you keep your mouth shut. Open it and you’re dead.’

‘I’m the case officer,’ she insisted.

‘You are what?’ I said. I smiled one of my reassuring smiles, but I see now that to Maria it must have seemed like mockery. ‘You are a child, Maria, you’ve no idea of what this is all about. Get into the ambulance,’ I told her. ‘Your ex-husband is waiting down the jetty. If you have this cart-load of documents with you when he arrests you things might go easier for you.’

‘Did you hear him?’ Maria said to the sailor and Kuang. ‘Take the documents, and take me with you – he’s betrayed us all to the police.’ Her voice was quiet but the note of hysteria was only one modulation away.

The sailor remained impassive and Kuang didn’t even look towards her.

‘Did you hear him?’ she said desperately. No one spoke. A rowboat was moving out around the far side of the Yacht Club. The flutter of dripping blades skidding upon the surface and the gasp of oars biting into the water was a lonely rhythm, like a woman’s sobs, each followed by the sharp intake of breath.

I said, ‘You don’t know what it’s all about. This man’s job is to bring Kuang back to their ship. He’s also instructed to take me. As well as that he’ll try to take the documents. But he doesn’t change plans because you shout news about Loiseau waiting to arrest you. In fact, that’s a good reason for leaving right away because their big command is to stay out of trouble. This business doesn’t work like that.’

I signalled Kuang to go down to the motor boat and the sailor steadied him on the slimy metal ladder. I punched Maria lightly on the arm. ‘I’ll knock you unconscious, Maria, if that’s the way you insist I do it.’ I smiled but I meant it.

‘I can’t face Loiseau. Not with that case I can’t face him.’ She opened the driver’s door and got into the seat. She would rather face Datt than Loiseau. She shivered. The boy said, ‘I feel I’m making a lot of trouble for you. I’m sorry.’

‘Just don’t say you’re sorry once again,’ I heard Maria say.

‘Get in,’ I called to the sailor. ‘The police will be here any moment. There’s no time to load boxes.’ He was at the foot of the ladder and I had my heavy shoes on. He shrugged and stepped into the boat. I untied the rope and someone started the motor. There was a bright flurry of water and the boat moved quickly, zigzagging through the water as the helmsman got the feel of the rudder.

At the end of the bridge there was a flashlight moving. I wondered if the whistles were going. I couldn’t hear anything above the sound of the outboard motor. The flashlight was reflected suddenly in the driver’s door of the ambulance. The boat lurched violently as we left the harbour and entered the open sea. I looked at the Chinese sailor at the helm. He didn’t seem frightened, but then how would he look if he did? I looked back. The figures on the quay were tiny and indistinct. I looked at my watch: it was 2.10 A.M. The Incredible Count Szell had just killed another canary, they cost only three francs, four at the most.

39

Three miles out from Ostend the water was still and a layer of mist hugged it; a bleak bottomless cauldron of broth cooling in the cold morning air. Out of the mist appeared M. Datt’s ship. It was a scruffy vessel of about 10,000 tons, an old cargo boat, its rear derrick broken. One of the bridge wings had been mangled in some long-forgotten mishap and the grey hull, scabby and peeling, had long brown rusty stains dribbling from the hawse pipes down the anchor fleets. It had been at anchor a long time out here in the Straits of Dover. The most unusual feature of the ship was a mainmast about three times taller than usual and the words ‘Radio Janine’ newly painted in ten-foot-high white letters along the hull.

The engines were silent, the ship still, but the current sucked around the draught figures on the stem and the anchor chain groaned as the ship tugged like a bored child upon its mother’s hand. There was no movement on deck, but I saw a flash of glass from the wheelhouse as we came close. Bolted to the hull-side there was an ugly metal accommodation ladder, rather like a fire-escape. At water level the steps ended in a wide platform complete with stanchion and guest warp to which we made fast. M. Datt waved us aboard.

As we went up the metal stairs Datt called to us, ‘Where are they?’ No one answered, no one even looked up at him. ‘Where are the packets of documents – my work? Where is it?’

‘There’s just me,’ I said.

‘I told you …’ Datt shouted to one of the sailors.

‘It was not possible,’ Kuang told him. ‘The police were right behind us. We were lucky to get away.’

‘The dossiers were the important thing,’ said Datt. ‘Didn’t you even wait for the girl?’ No one spoke. ‘Well didn’t you?’

‘The police almost certainly got her,’ Kuang said. ‘It was a close thing.’

‘And my documents?’ said Datt.

‘These things happen,’ said Kuang, showing little or no concern.

‘Poor Maria,’ said Datt. ‘My daughter.’

‘You care only about your dossiers,’ said Kuang calmly. ‘You do not care for the girl.’

‘I care for you all,’ said Datt. ‘I care even for the Englishman here. I care for you all.’

‘You are a fool,’ said Kuang.

‘I will report this when we are in Peking.’