1954 - Mission to Venice (17 page)

Suddenly from a doorway on the other side of the road Don saw a match flare up as if someone was about to light; cigarette but instead, whoever it was hiding in the darkness, flicked the burning match into the road.

Don realized at once that this must be a signal of some kind. He didn’t hesitate. He jumped forward and sprinted down the road towards the consulate. Even as he began to run, he heard a car engine start up and a car come down the road behind him.

He could hear Harry pounding along behind him. The sound of the oncoming car was now ominously near and he realized it must pass him before he gained the shelter of the consulate.

He looked back over his shoulder.

A big black car without lights was bearing down on him. Suddenly headlights sprang on, and the beams hit him, blinding him and making him lurch against the wall. Then he heard the sharp crack of Harry’s automatic and the sound of glass smashing The car swerved away and slowed down. Don threw himself flat as a machine gun opened up from the car.

The dark street was lit up by the yellow flashes from the gun; bullets hammered against the wall of the house before which Don had thrown himself.

Harry’s automatic again cracked out. A man yelled in pain, the car suddenly accelerated, and went down the street at high speed and disappeared around the corner.

Don half rose when the bang of a .45 from the doorway across the road where the match lighter had given his signal, made him flatten down again.

A bullet hummed inches past his face, and he fired across the street into the dark doorway. A man staggered out into the light of the street lamp, bent double, took three tottering steps forward, then dropped face down in the road.

Don jumped to his feet as Harry joined him, and together they raced the intervening yards to the consulate. As they reached the flight of steps leading to the building, the double doors opened and two American Service cops came out, guns in hand.

Don pulled up sharply and raised his hands above his head.

Harry followed suit. Don wasn’t taking any chances of being shot by excited and over enthusiastic cops.

The two policemen approached them warily.

“What’s going on around here?” one of them demanded.

Don laughed.

The banal question delivered in a heavy American accent was music to his ears.

“I have urgent business with the consul,” he said, stressing his own slight accent. “That was an attempt to kill me you just heard, and if we don’t get under cover pretty quick, they’ll try again.”

“You American?” the cop asked, peering at him.

“My name’s Micklem; Don Micklem.”

“That’s right. I know him,” the second cop said. “I’ve seen his picture in the papers.”

Still keeping both Don and Harry covered, the two policemen shepherded them into the safety of the consulate.

I
n one of the consulate’s cars, with an armed Service policeman sitting beside the driver, and with an escort of two motorcycle cops, Don and Harry were driven rapidly to the Zurich airport.

Edward Jepson, the consul, had acted promptly. The machine gun attack outside the consulate had aroused his anger, and the attack did more to help Don’s cause than any guarded explanation he could give.

He had explained briefly that he was attempting to complete a vitally important mission for the British government, and it was essential to get the oilskin package back to London safely and at once.

Jepson had agreed to send the package by diplomatic bag. He had also agreed to deal personally with the package, and not to delegate the sending of it to any of his secretaries.

Don had told him there was a strong possibility of another attack being made on him at the airport, and Jepson had taken prompt steps by calling for a car and an escort.

“I think we’re going to get away with it,” Don said as he spotted the distant lights of the airport ahead of them. “All we must hope now is they don’t smuggle a bomb on the plane.”

“Cheer up, boss,” Harry said. “I was just thinking how nice it’ll be to get home again.”

“I shan’t relax until I get rid of the book,” Don returned. “Well, here we are. It’s all laid out. Jepson called the airport and fixed the tickets. All we have to do is get on board the plane.”

“And wait to be blown up,” Harry said wryly.

The guard got out of the car as it stopped outside the reception office.

“Hold on a moment, sir,” he said. “I’ll find out where the plane is.”

The other two guards had put up their motorcycles and they now stood either side of the car.

“Makes one feel important, doesn’t it?” Harry whispered. “All the same I’d as soon look after myself.”

“There’s nothing to stop you. Keep your eyes skinned.”

There was a short wait, then the guard came out of the reception office.

“Here are your tickets, sir,” he said, handing two folders to Don, “You have ten minutes to wait. The plane’s at Bay Five. We’ll drive over there. I’ve orders to search the plane, but that won’t take long.”

“Make a job of it,” Harry said. “We’re not in all that much of a hurry.”

The guard got into the car, and they drove rapidly under the bright arc lights that lit up the tarmac to a reception hut before which five other passengers were waiting. The car swept around the back of the hut and pulled up outside a door.

“If you’ll get undercover, sir, I’ll call you when we are ready,” the guard said as he got out of the car. “We shouldn’t be long.”

Don and Harry got out of the car, crossed the concrete path and the guard opened the door. They walked into the small waiting room and the guard closed the door behind them.

“We could be royalty, couldn’t we?” Harry said, going across to an easy chair and sinking into it with a sigh. “We should have gone to one of your consuls before, boss.”

Don had crossed to the window and was looking out into the dark night.

“Better keep away from the window,” Harry said, then stiffened as he saw the door opposite to the one they had entered open abruptly. Standing in the doorway was Carl Natzka, a .45 in his hand. “Blimey! Where did you spring from?”

“If either of you move, I’ll kill you!” Natzka said.

Don turned quickly, his heart skipping a beat.

Natzka moved into the room and Maria followed him in.

“So we meet again, Don,” she said gaily. “How nice!”

She was wearing a three-quarter length mink coat over a yellow silk blouse and a black skirt. She came over and sat on the couch and smiled at Don.

“Hello,” Don said, and he had to make an effort to keep his face expressionless. He was acutely aware of the leather bound book in his pocket “You’ve mistimed your entrance. There’s a guard outside and there are two more within reach.”

“The guard outside is in my pay,” Natzka said. “Give me the book and you are free to leave on the plane. If you refuse, I will kill you!”

“You don’t imagine you could get out of the airport if you did,” Don said. “You don’t kid me you have all the airport guards in your pay.”

Natzka’s eyes glittered.

“I would have time to destroy the book. This is all I care about. Hand it over at once!”

“Please give it to him, Don,” Maria said earnestly. “He means what he says. Don’t be a hero. Give it to him and go free.”

Don smiled at her.

“I might be tempted to follow your advice,” he said lightly, “but I haven’t got the book.”

“You can’t bluff me!” Natzka snapped. “I’ll give you ten seconds to hand it over, and then I’ll shoot!”

Looking at him, Don realized he would shoot.

“I took the precaution of giving the book to the consul,” he lied. “He is having it flown to London in the diplomatic bag.”

“You’re lying!”

Don came casually from the window and sat on the couch beside Maria.

“I tell you I haven’t got it. It’s already in the diplomatic bag. You can search us if you don’t believe me.”

“I will search you,” Natzka snarled, his face white and strained. Without taking his eyes off them, he opened the door and called, “Busso, come in here.”

Don touched Maria’s coat sleeve.

“That’s a lovely coat.” He lifted her wrist and stroked the fur. “Mink makes ugly women attractive, and lovely ones dazzling. I’m dazzled.”

Maria looked at him.

“You haven’t got it then?” she said “I thought you would be too clever to be caught so easily.”

“I rather expected trouble at the airport,” Don returned. “The diplomatic bag seemed the safest bet.”

Busso came in and glowered at Don.

“Search these two!” Natzka said “You know what we’re looking for. Be quick!”

“Don’t start anything, Harry,” Don said mildly and stood up, raising his hands.

Harry watched with popping eyes.

Busso ran his hands over Don, then stepped away. He looked at Natzka.

“Nothing, signore.”

“The other man!” Natzka rapped out.

“Let him do it,” Don said as Harry got to his feet.

“Anything you say, boss,” Harry said blankly.

Again Busso ran his hands expertly over Harry and again shook his head.

“Now are you satisfied?” Don said, sitting down again beside Maria. “You’re beaten. No one can get at the bag. It leaves tonight under armed escort”

“You are stupid to tell me about the bag,” Natzka said, his eyes burning feverishly. He motioned to Busso who pulled out a gun and covered Don and Harry. Then Natzka went over to the telephone standing on the table.

“Give me the American consulate,” he said into the mouthpiece. There was a pause, then he said, “Give me Mr. Channing.” Another pause. “Channing? A small package, done up in green oilskin, was handed to the consul less than half an hour ago. It is to be put in a diplomatic bag and flown to London tonight. I want it. You understand? Get it and bring it to me at the usual place. You will not return to the consulate. Your work is finished here.” He listened for a moment, then said, “Good. I’ll expect you in half an hour,” and he hung up. He turned and looked at Don, his eyes triumphant “It seems I win after all, Mr. Micklem. My man tells me he will have no difficulty in getting at the bag.”

Don knew he would have to play the farce out to the end. Natzka must not suspect for a moment he had been tricked.

“Why, you treacherous rat!” he exploded. “Don’t imagine you’re going to get away with this!”

Natzka laughed.

“Come, Mr. Micklem, there’s no need to lose your temper. An individual can never beat an organization. You had a good try and you gave me several unpleasant moments. After all, this matter has nothing to do with your country.”

Don pretended to swallow his anger. He shrugged.

“Well, okay, you win.”

“That’s more like it,” Natzka said. “All the same I will admit I shall be glad to see the last of you. You have been very persistent. Busso will see you on to the plane. By the time you reach Paris I shall be out of reach. If you attempt to elude Busso, he will shoot you. I have no intentions of giving you a chance to stir up more trouble.” He looked at Busso. “Take them to the plane. If they make a false move, shoot them!”

“Come,” Busso said, going to the door.

Don turned to Maria.

“So it’s goodbye. I had hoped you might be forced to seek sanctuary in England. I would like to have shown you the English historic places of interest. I know London as well as I know Venice.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Natzka leave the room.

Maria got to her feet. She was smiling.

“Perhaps one day I will come to England,” she said. “I’ll remember the invitation”

“Come!” Busso snarled.

Don ignored him.

“Have you to run after your brother?” he asked her. “Or will you come to the plane and see me off?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Call me sentimental if you like, but a beautiful woman waving goodbye is always a pleasant memory.”

Her eyes sparkled and she laughed.

“You shall have your memory.”

Don linked his arm in hers.

“Then let’s go.”

He walked to the door, followed by Harry who was looking uneasily at Don, puzzled the book wasn’t found on him and disapproving of his friendliness with Maria.

Busso brought up the rear.

As they crossed to where the aircraft was warming up, Don said, “Why don’t you come with me Maria? Why don’t you settle in London?”

“Why should I? What has London to offer? Besides, I couldn’t desert Carl; he relies on me so much.”

“I am thinking of your safety. Sooner or later, you are going to regret working with him.”

“I never have any regrets.”

A pretty airhostess, looking worried ran up.

“Mr. Micklem?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve been waiting for you. Will you please get on board immediately?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be right with you. Go ahead, Harry,” Don said, turning to Harry, and Harry again looking at him uneasily, ran up the portable staircase and into the aircraft Don turned to face Maria.

“Goodbye and good luck.”

“You said that before.”

“I say it again.” He put his arm round her; his other hand slid down the arm of her coat. “You and mink: a lovely combination.”

He kissed her lightly. “Sure you won’t come with me?”

She shook her head.

“Goodbye Don.”

He turned and ran up the staircase, paused to wave to her, then ducked into the aircraft The door closed and the staircase was run away.

Don sank into the seat beside Harry.

The aircraft engines roared and the machine began to move towards the runway.

Don looked through the window and again waved to Maria as she stood under an arc light waving back to him. Then when the aircraft began its steady climb, Don turned to look at Harry.

“Phew!” he said. “Those last few moments put years on my life.”

“I noticed that boss,” Harry said stiffly.

Don smiled and half-turning so the other passengers couldn’t see, he showed Harry the leather bound book he held in his hand.

“I slipped it in the turn-up of her cuff before Busso searched me,” he said, keeping his voice down “She carried it to the aircraft for us.”

“Well, I’ll be blown!” Harry said, and his disapproving face lit up with a delighted grin. Two and a half hours later, the aircraft touched down on the Northolt runway and the journey was over.

Don had realized that it wouldn’t have taken long for Natzka to find out he had been tricked. There was a chance that he had been able to get into touch with his agents in London and they would make an attempt to get the book before it was handed to Sir Robert Graham.

Leaving nothing to chance, Don had persuaded the captain of the aircraft to send a signal to Sir Robert asking him to arrange to have the plane met by a police escort.

As the plane came to a standstill, Don said, “Let the other passengers get out first. Have your gun ready, Harry.”

Harry nodded.

Don had told the airhostess there might be trouble when they landed and she stood by the aircraft door until the last of the passengers had alighted.

“Go to her, Harry,” Don said. “Take a look outside.”

Harry went to the door.

“Okay, miss, you buzz off,” he said cheerfully. ‘You can leave this to me.”

The girl, a little flustered, descended the staircase to the ground.

Coming across the tarmac Harry saw a small group of men, headed by a tall, dignified man with white drooping moustaches.

“It’s okay, boss,” Harry said. “Here’s Super. Tom Dicks and an old cove who looks like Sir Robert.”