Death's No Antidote Read online

  “No sir. I told you, I was too far away. There was someone else moving near me in the fog and I was forced to shift…”

  “Mr. Williams is here sir.” Miss Peach’s voice, harsh and metallic over the intercom.

  “Send him in.”

  The Director waved Jones to silence and rifled through a file on his desk. He found the page he wanted as Williams entered the room.

  “This Susan Pike girl,” he said without preamble. “It says here she’s been a secretary with the BBC for four years.”

  “Yes sir,” answered Williams.

  “Her parents died just over four years ago in a car crash in…” the Director paused… “in Russia. She flew out there for the funeral; couldn’t afford to have the bodies flown home. Then she came back, sold up the family home in Taunton and moved to London. What were her parents doing in Russia?”

  “Holiday, sir. First trip abroad. We checked the booking with a Taunton travel agent. They were on a package tour. The accident happened in a hire car just outside Moscow. Head-on collision with a lorry. The Russian chauffeur was killed, too.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s all in this report,” said the Director. “Plus the fact that the girl has an uncle who emigrated to Australia fifteen years ago. No other living relatives. Met Croome-Pugglesley a year ago at a party…”

  The SS(O)S chief broke off and looked at Williams. “How well was this girl screened?”

  Williams licked dry lips.

  “Normal vetting sir.”

  “Really?” The Director’s eyebrows shot up. “I should have thought that she would have rated a positive with this Russian link.”

  “Only a tenuous link, sir,” said Williams bravely.

  “Tenuous?” The big man’s voice was deceptively mild. “Not as tenuous as your future prospects as a section head in this organisation Mr. Williams. The girl has disappeared. So has C.P. They were last seen together by Jones shortly before last night’s farce. She was waiting outside C.P.’s place for him to come home. When he arrived he sent her away. Your job is to find both of them. And I want quick results.”

  For the second time that morning, Williams made a thankful escape from his chief’s office.

  “And your job,” the Director added to Jones, “is to find James. Any ideas?”

  “Only one lead I can see sir. I’d like a free hand to follow it up.”

  The Welshman leaned forward and began to speak.

  *

  “C? You can take any action you like on Croome-Pugglesley now. I don’t think it will interfere with my own operation any longer.”

  A choking sound came over the wire.

  “You don’t think… Now look here… It’s long past time you told me what you’re up to…”

  “My time isn’t up yet,” the Director said. “On the P.M.’s authority. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember all right,” answered the head of DI6 bitterly. “But I think the circumstances have changed.”

  “In what respect?”

  “You know damn well, blast you! I’m virtually certain that Croome-Pugglesley has photographed the DNA File. Now he’s gone missing. On top of all that I’ve just received a SB report that one of your men was shot last night — outside Croome-Pugglesley’s flat. I suppose you’ll say that’s coincidence.”

  “Quite. I wouldn’t worry about that C. Incidentally, if your people do find C.P., perhaps you’d let me know. Just for interest’s sake, you understand?”

  “I’m warning you,” said C, “I’m going to request a meeting with the P.M. and put all the fresh facts before him. I’m sure he’ll reverse his decision.” He added grimly: “So you’d better hold yourself ready for an emergency meeting of the JIC.”

  “Just give me another twenty-four hours,” said the Director. “That’s all I need. And I assure you that everything is under control…”

  He stopped speaking. C had already rung off. Everything under control, he thought as he replaced the telephone. And I don’t even know for sure yet who we’re up against. To think that I was telling Williams that his future was bleak.

  He picked up the red telephone.

  “The P.M.’s in Scotland, opening a power station,” said the Deputy Undersecretary. “I can get him for you if it’s urgent. He’ll be back at No. 10 early tomorrow morning.”

  “No, it doesn’t matter,” said the Director.

  That was one bit of luck, anyway. It was doubtful if C would get the P.M. to change his mind before tomorrow.

  Chapter Ten

  Croome-Pugglesley was proving unexpectedly difficult. “I’m not a traitor,” he repeated woodenly.

  He was slumped uncomfortably on the hard chair and he looked exhausted, drained of all emotion.

  “I realise you have no wish to betray your country,” said Mr. Finn. “But I’m afraid you are already a traitor by default. It began when you failed to reveal your liaison with Sir Roger Coyle. You helped him when he was actively working for China…”

  C.P. stiffened. “How do you know about that?”

  “You forget, the KGB were co-operating with your own SS(O)S in that affair. We deduced, accurately as it turned out, exactly where Coyle was getting his information.”

  “It seems everyone knows about it,” said C.P. tiredly. “Everyone except the Foreign Office.”

  “Quite. I suspect the SS(O)S kept you under observation in the hope that you’d lead them to someone else. We, on the other hand, planted the lovely Susan Pike on you, in the event that we might be able…” he broke off abruptly, and then added: “I presume it’s the Chinese who have been putting the pressure on you recently? Blackmail?”

  C.P. didn’t answer.

  Finn sighed. “You know you are finished in this country? Your people will try you for treason. Surely you don’t want to rot in an English prison for twenty or even thirty years? Is it the Chinese?”

  C.P. remained silent.

  “What did they want? What have you been doing for them?”

  Still no reply.

  “Whatever it was,” Finn went on, “it seems that SS(O)S knew about it, otherwise what was Jones doing outside your flat? And look what happened to him. Do you want to end up the same way?”

  C.P. flinched, remembering the blood he’d washed from his hand. Jones’s blood. He was sure Jones was dead. Dingle, too, perhaps. He’d seen his unconscious body being flung into the car…the car that seconds later had mounted the pavement in the fog and almost ran him down. They would not be able to help him now.

  C.P. felt no pity for Dingle or Jones. He hated them for the impossible position they had put him in; he felt pity only for himself.

  “Why don’t you see reason?” Finn’s voice droned on. “Your career, everything, is ruined here. What do you think the security services and the police will do when you don’t report for work in the morning? They’re bound to link you with Jones. His body will have been found outside your flat. You might even be charged with murder as well as treason.”

  C.P. felt faint. He leaned forward, pushing his head between his knees.

  “Be sensible. Tell us what we want to know. We’ll look after you, take you to Russia where you can live a life of…”

  “Leave me alone,” said C.P. miserably. “Just go away and leave me alone.”

  “Very well.” Finn’s voice hardened. “If you won’t co-operate voluntarily, we’ll have to make you. Harry, I think it’s time you fetched that whip of yours.”

  Brett snickered and waddled out of the room. Marjorie Brett’s pointed tongue darted out and flicked at her dry lips; her eyes gleamed in eager anticipation.

  Susan Pike spoke for the first time since Finn had revealed that she was a KGB agent.

  “There’s no need to hurt him!”

  She moved quickly across the room and placed a protective arm around C.P.’s shoulders.

  He arched his neck, straining his head back against her yielding breasts so that he c
ould look up into her face. There was bewilderment in his eyes.

  “What are you trying to do to me?”

  “I’m trying to help you, darling. I love you, Julian. We’re going to be married, remember?”

  “I know there’s no need to hurt him,” Finn’s voice broke in harshly, “but his attitude makes it necessary. Now get away from him.”

  “Do as they say, Julian. Please, for my sake.” Sue cradled his head. “For both our sakes. If you come back with us to Russia we can be married. We can have an apartment in the best part of Moscow, holidays on the Black Sea…they’ll give you a well-paid job. We’ll live in luxury, darling. Please…”

  “I said get away from him,” Finn cut in again.

  The girl released C.P. and drew apart.

  “But it’s true, isn’t it?” she asked. “What I said?”

  “Of course it’s true,” answered Finn, “but the man’s too much of a fool to realise…ah, there you are Harry. Come into the kitchen with me…and you, Marjorie. We’ll collect a few more items of equipment, and I’ll explain what I’m going to do.” He tossed a revolver across to Susan. “Watch him.”

  When the others had left the room, C.P. whispered hoarsely.

  “Sue! Do you mean it? Do you still love me…want to marry me?”

  “Of course. Darling, don’t let them hurt you. Help them! We could be happy together…in Russia.”

  “You help me, Sue. Now, while they’re out of the room. We can get out through the window.”

  He half rose from the chair, but sank back when Susan brought up the gun, pointing the barrel straight at his chest.

  “I daren’t Julian… I…” she paused, and he could see the indecision on her face.

  “We could be happy together here…in England,” he said eagerly.

  “It wouldn’t work. If we got out of here, what would we escape to? You couldn’t escape trial darling, not now. They’d take me, too. We’d both end up in prison…”

  “Take a chance. If we went straight to the authorities now, tonight, and told them all…”

  The girl laughed flatly, cutting off the rest of the sentence.

  “And if it worked, if we remained free, do you think my people would let it rest at that? They’d send someone for me, later. I’d be taken back home and…and punished. Besides,” her voice was tired, toneless, “I have relatives in Russia. I must think of them.”

  “Please, Sue…”

  But it was too late. The others were coming back into the room.

  “Strip him, and then tie his feet to the chair,” ordered Finn, taking the gun back from Susan. “Leave his hands free.”

  C.P. didn’t bother to resist. He knew it would be useless. Soon he was naked, sitting awkwardly on the hard chair again, his ankles bound tightly and painfully to the chair legs.

  “And now his girl friend.”

  C.P. gasped. “Why her? She’s on your side.”

  Susan didn’t speak. But her eyes gazed into Croome-Pugglesley’s begging him to do what Finn wanted.

  “Because, my dear Pugglesley, she is in love with you. You are in love with her. You are going to feel pain. She is going to feel the same pain. You will know exactly what she is going through. Sooner or later you will tell me what I want to know.”

  Rivulets of sweat began to course down C.P.’s face. Soon Sue was standing before him, as naked and defenceless as he. The thought of that beautiful body, the body that he knew so well, being scarred and broken made him shudder. But he didn’t speak. Perhaps Finn was only bluffing…

  Another hard chair was brought in and placed back-to-back with his. Susan’s feet were lashed to its legs.

  “We’re going to begin quite gently.” Finn’s voice was matter-of-fact. “As you see, our make-shift equipment is quite simple.”

  He waved a hand towards the table, and C.P. looked at a collection of sharp kitchen knives, a candle, matches, needles…and a whip.

  “Do you know what it feels like to have needles pushed up under your finger nails?” The tone was still conversational. “Hold his arms tightly, with the hands facing out towards me…that’s right.”

  C.P. gave a sharp cry and jerked convulsively as the pain shot up his right forefinger, reaching for every nerve in his body.

  “There now, that wasn’t so bad was it. But still, there are nine more nails left to work on. You can have a short rest now, while we do the same for your girl friend.”

  The sweat was streaming down C.P.’s face now. He couldn’t see Susan, behind him, but he heard her sharp intake of breath, and then the air expelled in a long shuddering sob. She didn’t make as much noise as he had.

  *

  By turning his head he could see the clock on the mantelpiece. Had he been enduring this agony for only ten minutes?

  Sue’s high-pitched scream jumped the gap between them to join the silent, tormented screams of his own body, uniting them in pain. Poor Sue…and then the dreaded figure of Finn was standing in front of him again.

  “There really is no need for all this you know. You’re being unnecessarily stubborn. Are you ready to speak yet?”

  C.P. shook his head dumbly.

  Finn sighed. “All right. But I warn you, you’re not going to like this one. Tie his hands behind the chair, Harry, and hold his head very firmly, slightly to one side. That’s right…now light the candle Marjorie.”

  Mrs. Brett was breathing rapidly with excitement as she brought the lighted candle across to Finn.

  C.P. tried to pull his head away, but it was held in a vice-like grip. He whimpered softly when Finn poured some of the hot candle grease into his ear, and again when the woman buried the live head of a match into the soft wax.

  He felt the scorching heat of the candle when it lit the other end of the match. As the flame began to travel down the matchstick, the heat increased. His back arched in agony and he let out a long, low moan.

  The burning in his ear became unbearable, his body writhed uncontrollably — and then there was an explosion in his head as the live end of the match flared inside the candlewax. His body sagged limply, held to the chair by its bonds. C.P. had fainted.

  *

  “There we are old chap. Have a drink, brandy…it’s good stuff; and a cigarette.”

  Finn’s tone was still light, friendly. C.P. gulped greedily at the golden liquid in the glass held to his lips by the big man. He sucked hungrily at the cigarette. His ear was stinging; it felt like a huge throbbing balloon on the side of his head.

  “That’s better,” Finn went on. “We had to wait for you to come round before we dealt with Susan…”

  “No!” C.P. meant to shout the word, but his voice was a croak.

  “And then, of course, we’ll operate on your other ear.”

  “No!” said C.P. again. His voice was stronger now.

  “No?” Finn’s eyebrows raised.

  “Damn you! What do you want to know?”

  Finn smiled. “That’s better. Marjorie, go and get hot water, soap, disinfectant and some ointment. You can be dressing his wounds while we talk.”

  He turned back to C.P.

  “Who are you working for? The Chinese?”

  “I don’t know. Dingle and Jones thought so.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I dealt only with one man. He was English.”

  “Who was he?”

  “He didn’t tell me his name. Dingle said he was called William Laws…no…Dawes. William Dawes.”

  “Describe him.”

  C.P. gave a detailed description, wincing every now and then when Mrs. Brett hit a tender spot. She was working swiftly, efficiently soothing away his aches and pains, cooing over him like a mother over a favourite son. He had pleased her intensely by allowing her to witness his pain. She enjoyed pain. She looked at the whip on the table. Perhaps later, when everyone had gone, Harry would…

  “What did Dawes want?” Finn’s voice
went on remorselessly.

  “The DNA File. I had to photograph it.”

  “The DNA…what’s that?”

  C.P. explained. The words poured out in a torrent.

  *

  “That’ll do,” said Finn. “Take him up to bed and make him comfortable. I’ll see him again in the morning. Keep a sharp eye on him though.”

  The Bretts helped C.P. to his feet. He saw Susan, her head slumped forward on her chest, still tied to her chair.

  “My God! What have you done to her?”

  “She’ll be all right,” said Finn. “Harry and Marjorie will see to her when they’ve got you to bed.”

  Sue lifted her head and smiled bravely at C.P.

  “I’m all right darling,” she said. “Everything will be OK now. You’ll see, when we’re in Russia…”

  “I should hardly think your friends will want to take me with them now,” said C.P.

  Finn sighed patiently. “Why not? There’s no future for you here now. You’ve betrayed your country over and over again. Believe me, I didn’t want to hurt you…either of you. But it was necessary. You must see that. Now up to bed with you. You’ll feel better in the morning — and you’ll see that your only hope is with us.” He waited until C.P. was upstairs with the Bretts, then turned to Susan and untied her bonds.

  “Well my dear, we didn’t hurt you, did you?”

  “Not a bit,” replied Sue, smiling.

  “I must say your screams were most convincing.”

  “I’m glad it’s over anyway,” said the girl. “At least I don’t have to pretend any more.”

  “Pretend?”

  “That I’m in love with him. I can’t bear the man. I hate it every time he touches me. Those thick lips…ugh…he’s repulsive.” She shuddered.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with it for a little longer. At least until we get home.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re not taking him back to Russia with us? He’s told all he knows.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. In any event, he might be useful to us for a while. We don’t want any trouble from him anyway. I’ve got to go out now. I’ll have to trace this man Dawes…and I’ve got to find out what happened to the films that Pugglesley took.”