Circus (11 page)

Harper sat up in his armchair and pursed his lips. ‘You have an idea?'

‘I don't know. A glimmering, perhaps. I was wondering – have you any further information for me? Anything at all? About the interior layout of the west building and how to gain access to the ninth floor. Take the roof. Is there any access by way of ventilator shafts, trapdoors or suchlike?'

‘I honestly don't know.'

‘I think we can forget the ventilator shafts. In a maximum security place like this the air circulation probably vents through the side walls and would have impossibly narrow exit apertures. Trapdoors, I would have thought, they must have. How else could the guards get up to their towers or the electricians service the electric fence when the need arises? I can hardly see them climbing up ninety feet high vertical steel ladders bolted to an inside wall. Do you know whether the Lubylan runs to lifts?'

‘That I do know. There's a stairs shaft runs from top to bottom in each building with two lifts on either side of the shafts.'

‘Presumably it services the ninth floor as well as the rest. That means that the lift-head – you know, where they have the pulley mechanism for the cables – must protrude above the roof. That could provide a way in.'

‘It would also provide an excellent way of having yourself crushed to death if you were descending the shaft as the lift came up. It's happened before, you know, and not seldom either, with service men working on top of a lift.'

‘That's a risk. Walking a frozen two-thousand-volt cable in a high wind – we have to assume the worst – isn't a risk? What's on the eighth floor? More laboratories?'

‘Oddly, no. That belongs to the east building – the detention centre. The senior prison officers
and prison staff sleep there – maybe they can't stand the sound of the screams, maybe they don't want to be around in the detention centre if the enemies of the State manage to break loose – I don't know. All the prison offices and records offices are kept there. Apart from the guards' sleeping quarters and dining quarters, all of the detention centre is given over to cells. Apart, that is, from a few charming places in the basement which are euphemistically referred to as interrogation centres.'

Bruno looked at him consideringly. ‘Would it be out of order for me to enquire where you get all this detailed information from? I thought that no stranger would ever be allowed inside and that no guard would ever dare talk.'

‘Not at all. We have, as they say, our man in Crau. Not an American, a native. He was imprisoned some fifteen years ago for some trifling political offence, became what we would call a trusty after a few years and had the complete run of the building. His privileged position did not affect in the slightest the complete and total hatred he nourishes for the regime in general and Lubylan and all those who work inside it in particular. He still drinks with the guards and warders from the Lubylan and one way or another manages to keep us reasonably up to date with what's going on. It's over four years since he's been discharged but the guards still regard him as a trusty and talk freely, especially
when he plies them with vodka. We provide the money for the vodka.'

‘It's a messy business.'

‘All espionage and counter-espionage is. The glamour quotient is zero.'

‘The problem still remains. There may just be a solution. I don't know. Have you mentioned any of this to Maria yet?'

‘No. Plenty of time. The fewer people who know – '

‘I'd like to talk to her tonight. May I?'

Harper smiled. ‘Three minds are better than two? That's hardly a compliment to me.'

‘If only you knew it, it is. I can't afford to have you too closely involved with anything I'm doing. You're the co-ordinator and the only person who really knows what is going on – I still don't believe that you have told me everything I might know, but it doesn't seem all that important any more. Besides, I have courted the young lady assiduously – although it was under instructions I haven't found the task too disagreeable – and people are accustomed to seeing us together now.'

Harper smiled without malice. ‘They're also accustomed to seeing young Henry squiring her around, too.'

‘I shall challenge him to a duel when we get some suitably central European background – the atmosphere has to be right. I don't need Maria's ideas. All I want from her is her co-operation. No point in discussing it with you until I have it.'

‘No harm. When?'

‘After dinner.'

‘Where? Here?'

‘Not here. It's perfectly proper for my doctor to come and see me – anxiously caring for one of the circus's prime properties. But, as you say – or as you infer from Carter's antics with his bug-detector – it's just possible that someone might be keeping a wary eye on me. I don't want them keeping a wary eye on her, too.'

‘Then I suggest her cabin.'

Bruno thought. ‘I'll do that.'

Before dinner, Bruno went into the lounge bar, located Maria sitting by herself at a small corner table, sat beside her and ordered a soft drink. He said: ‘This is intolerable. Incredible. Maria Hopkins sitting alone.'

She said with some asperity: ‘And whose fault is that?'

‘Never mine, surely?'

‘I'm treated like a pariah, an outcast. There are lots of very nice men here who would love to buy me a drink and talk to me. But no, I'm the plague. The great Bruno might come in at any moment.' She brooded a bit. ‘Or Henry. He's as bad. Not only is he the light and the joy of his uncle's heart – and it would be well to remember that his uncle is the big white chief – he's also developing a very intimidating line in scowls. The only person who doesn't give a damn is that enormous
friend of yours. Do you know that he calls me your lady-love?'

‘And are you? That's what's usually referred to as a keen, probing question.'

She treated his remark with silent disdain.

‘Ah, well. And where is the rival for my ladylove's hand tonight? I've just been talking about it with Dr Harper. Henry and I are going to fight a duel when we get to the Carpathians. You should come and watch. After all, it's over you.'

‘Oh, do be quiet.' She looked at him for a long moment, smiled widely in spite of herself and put her hand on his. ‘What's the masculine equivalent of “lady-love”?'

‘There isn't one or if there is I don't think I'd like to hear it. Where is Henry?'

‘He's gone sleuthing.' Subconsciously, she lowered her voice. ‘I think he's watching someone or shadowing someone. Henry has spent a great deal of time these past two days following someone he swears is following me.'

Surprisingly, Bruno was not amused. He said: ‘Why didn't you tell me before?'

‘I didn't think it important. I didn't take it seriously.'

‘Didn't? And now?'

‘I'm not sure.'

‘Why should anyone be following you?'

‘If I knew I'd tell you, wouldn't I?'

‘Would you?'

‘Please.'

‘Have you told Dr Harper?'

‘No. That's the point. There's nothing to tell. I don't like being laughed at. I think Dr Harper's got his reservations about me, anyway. I don't want him to think that I'm a bigger ninny than he already probably thinks I am.'

‘This mystery shadower. He has a name?'

‘Yes. Wherry. A cabin steward. Small man, narrow face, very pale, narrow eyes, small black moustache.'

‘I've seen him. Your steward?'

‘Mr Wrinfield's.'

Bruno was momentarily thoughtful, then appeared to lose interest. He raised his glass. ‘I'd like to see you after dinner. Your cabin, if you please.'

She raised her glass and smiled. ‘And your good health, too.'

Dinner over, Bruno and Maria made no secret of the fact that they were leaving together. This was commonplace, now, and no longer called for the raised eyebrow. Some twenty seconds after the departure Henry rose and sauntered from the dining saloon, leaving by the opposite door. Once outside he quickened his pace, crossed over to the other side, moved aft, descended a companionway and reached the passenger accommodation. Bruno and Maria were about fifty feet ahead of him. Henry moved in behind the companionway and stood in shadow.

Almost at once a figure emerged, or partially emerged from a side passage about twenty feet
away on the left. He peered along the main passageway, saw Bruno and Maria and quickly withdrew into cover again but not so quickly that Henry couldn't recognize him. It was, unmistakably, Wherry. Henry experienced a very considerable degree of self-satisfaction.

Wherry ventured another look. Bruno and Maria were just disappearing round a corner to their left. Wherry moved out and followed them. Henry waited until he, too, had disappeared from sight, then moved out in stealthy pursuit. He reached the left-hand corner on soundless tip-toes, glanced round with one eye then immediately moved back into cover again. Wherry was less than six paces away, looking down a right-hand corridor. Henry didn't have to be told what Wherry was looking at – Maria's cabin was the fourth door down. When he looked again Wherry had vanished. Henry moved, took up the position Wherry had so recently occupied and did some more head-poking. Wherry was engaged in the undignified occupation of pressing his right ear hard against a cabin door. Maria's cabin. Henry drew back and waited. He was in no hurry.

Henry let thirty seconds pass then risked another look. The passageway was empty. Without haste Henry walked along the corridor, passed Maria's cabin – he could hear the soft murmur of voices – reached the end and dropped down another companionway. He hadn't spent two days so zealously – and, as he imagined, so
unobtrusively – trailing Wherry without discovering where Wherry's quarters were. That that was where he had gone Henry did not for a moment doubt.

Henry was right. Wherry had indeed gone to his cabin and was apparently so confident of himself that he had even left the door ajar. That there may have been some other reason for this apparent carelessness did not occur to Henry. Wherry was sitting with his back three-quarters turned to him, a pair of earphones, the lead of which led to a radio, clamped over his head. There was nothing unusual in this; Wherry, as did all stewards, doubled up with one of his mates, and as they were frequently on different shifts and slept at different times, the earphones insured that one could listen to the radio without disturbing the other's sleep: it was standard practice on this and most passenger ships.

Maria sat on her cabin bed and stared at Bruno in shocked disbelief. Her face was drained of colour, leaving the eyes preternaturally huge. She said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper: ‘This is mad! It's crazy! It's suicidal!'

‘It's all of that and a good deal else besides. But you have to appreciate that Dr Harper is in an impossible spot. As ideas go, it was an ingenious one, a desperate ingenuity, mind you, but there were no other options open to him, at least none that he could see.'

‘Bruno!' She'd slipped off the bed and was on her knees beside his armchair, his left hand in both of hers; there was fear in her face and Bruno was uncomfortably aware that it wasn't fear for herself. ‘You'll be killed, you know you'll be killed. Don't. Please, don't! No, Bruno. Nothing's worth your life, nothing! Oh, God, there isn't even a chance.'

He looked at her in mild surprise. ‘And all the time I thought you were a tough young CIA agent.'

‘Well, I'm not. Tough I mean.' There was a sheen of tears in her eyes.

Almost absently, he stroked her hair. Her face was averted. ‘There might be another way, Maria.'

‘There can't be another way.'

‘Look.' With his free hand he swiftly sketched a diagram. ‘Let's forget entrance via the power cable. The fact that those windows are barred may yet be the saving of us – well, me, anyway. I propose to get to this lane to the south of the research building. I'll take with me a length of rope with a padded hook at one end. A couple of casts and I should catch a bar on a first-floor window. I haul myself up to the first floor, unhook the rope, repeat the process and reach the second floor. And so on until I get to the top.'

‘Yes?' The scepticism now in her face hadn't replaced the fear, merely redoubled it. ‘And then?'

‘I'll find some way of silencing the guard or guards in the corner tower.'

‘What is it, Bruno? What drives you? You are a driven man, don't you know that? You don't work for the CIA and this damnable anti-matter can't mean all the world to you. Yet I know – I don't think – I
know
you're willing to die to get inside that damnable prison. Why, Bruno, why?'

‘I don't know.' She couldn't see his face but for a moment it was disturbed, almost wary. ‘Perhaps you'd best go and ask the shades of Pilgrim and Fawcett.'

‘What are they to you? You hardly knew them.' He made no reply. She went on wearily: ‘So you're going to silence the guards. How are you going to find a way of silencing two thousand volts of steel fencing?'

‘I'll find a way, not by putting it out of action – that's impossible – but by by-passing it. But I'm going to need your co-operation and you might end up in prison.'

‘What kind of co-operation?' Her voice was toneless. ‘And what's prison if you're dead?'

Henry heard those words. Wherry had taken off his earphones to find some cigarettes and the conversation from Maria's cabin, faint and tinny and distorted though it was, was understandable and unmistakable. Henry craned his head a bit more and saw that the radio was not the only piece of electrical equipment in the cabin. There was a small tape recorder on the deck with both spools slowly turning.