Operation Pax (38 page)

From somewhere out in the park a new sound came to them: that of racing cars, a low, almost continuous penetrating horn, and behind that a single urgently chiming bell.

Jane gasped. ‘It’s John…it’s the police – and an ambulance…’

Remnant had got on his knees. He fired a couple of shots at the farther temple, waited a second, and stood up. ‘Gone,’ he said.

The engine beyond the temple was still roaring. Suddenly above they heard a single shrill call – a call for help. The sound brought Jane to her feet in an instant. ‘Geoffrey!’

For a second she saw nothing except a row of Doric pillars and a dark doorway beyond. Then a single figure emerged flying – the figure of a young man in ragged trousers and a torn shirt. His hair was matted and his face was a dead white streaked with grey. Two men – one in a white coat – pounded after him.

‘Jane – Jane!’ It was a cry like a child’s – and as he uttered it the young man thrust out blindly, gropingly, an appealing arm that seemed bruised and blackened in its torn sleeve. ‘Help!’

She took the breast work at a bound and ran. She heard Remnant curse and leap after her. There was a hail of bullets, and she heard Remnant give a cry, spin round and fall. But she herself was untouched. Geoffrey was no more than five yards away. She was nearly there. She was nearly touching him – Suddenly from the lake on her left a dark, dripping figure rose up, took her in a flying rugby tackle and then, with almost no loss of impetus, went rolling with her across the narrow tongue of land and into the lake on the other side. The water closed over her head just as she heard another fusillade of shots.

For a moment she thought that she would never come up again – that she was down at some great depth in the grasp of a drowning man. Then – ludicrously, tragically – she found that she was struggling upright in some four feet of muddy water. Her head was out; she shook it; her eyes cleared – but in her ears there was still a great roaring. The square temple was straight in front of her. And above it hung something monstrous, out of nature: a vast and hovering insect. She shook her head once more, and knew that the roaring noise was not inside her own brain. The noise came from the insect. The insect was a helicopter… Even as the realization came to her the machine climbed, hovered again, and moved off on a lateral course.

‘They certainly seem to keep a trick or two up their sleeve.’

She swung round. The man who had carried her headlong into the lake was standing breast-high in the water beside her. It was her brother John.

She was sitting on the bank. The skirt and jersey that had been her only garments lay heavy on her in sopping folds. Her hair was soaking. The shoes still slung absurdly round her neck were two small buckets of water. Only her eyes were dry – dry and bitterly angry.

‘John, why did you do it –
why
? It was Geoffrey – he’s alive!’

‘Which is more than you would have been in another five seconds.’ Her brother, who was binding up Remnant’s right arm, spoke grimly and without turning round. It dawned on her that he was quite as angry as she was. ‘Do you think, sir’ – he was addressing Remnant – ‘that this was a proper affair in which to involve my sister?’

‘Yes, I do – or I wouldn’t have done it.’ Remnant in his turn was angry and uncompromising. ‘She has what it takes – and I don’t know that there’s any other test.’ He smiled wanly. ‘Besides – if I may say so – she rather involved me. I apologize, all the same.’

‘How dare you apologize!’ Jane had jumped to her feet, at once dripping and blazing. ‘I think–’

‘Easy, easy.’ Her brother was now smiling at the two of them. ‘I apologize too. We needn’t quarrel. After all, we’re doing pretty well.’

Jane felt the blood going to her head. ‘Doing pretty well! With Geoffrey–’

‘Use your head, Jane.’

She gasped for breath. John was every whit as intolerable as Remnant. ‘I
do
use my head.’

‘Very well – just consider. Those people in the helicopter are some sort of criminals I haven’t got the hang of. Perhaps you two have. Something pretty bad, no doubt. But, likely enough, nothing can be proved that would positively hang them. But if you hadn’t gone in the lake, my girl, you’d have gone in your coffin. And then they
would
have been murderers – every one of them, regardless of which did the actual shooting. You’d have gone. And your young man would have followed.’

‘By jove – that’s right!’ Remnant, struggling with considerable pain, looked up sharply. ‘As it is, he’s tolerably safe. The devilry’s over; we cooked that goose. And if they’re not murderers yet, they’re unlikely to commit gratuitous murder now.’

‘It’s what the man with the red beard meant to do.’ Jane still spoke hotly. ‘Sheer gratuitous killing of that child.’

‘He was off his rocker. But the fellows who got away like that’– and Remnant jerked his head skywards – ‘have all their wits about them still. If you ask me, they’ll land young Geoffrey in the next county–’

‘He’s not young Geoffrey. He’s a lot older than you are – and very much more–’

‘Be quiet, Jane.’ Appleby had stepped to the edge of the island and was scanning the park. ‘By and large, your friend is right… Now, where have all those police come from?’

‘Those police?’ Jane opened her eyes wide. ‘Aren’t they yours?’

‘Quite impossible. I did arrange for something of the sort in certain circumstances. But a good deal later in the afternoon. And what the dickens is all that yelling?’

‘I shouldn’t be surprised at a bit of yelling.’ Remnant spoke dryly. ‘This place is on quite a big scale. Jane and I have more or less smashed it. But you’ll find, sir, that there’s a fair amount to clear up.’

‘I find no difficulty in believing you there.’ Appleby was still scanning the grounds. ‘It isn’t… it isn’t by way of being a children’s home? I could swear those were children’s voices.’

‘Dear me, no – nothing of the sort.’ Remnant had got to his feet. ‘I see you haven’t got your bearings at all. But if I may lend a hand–’

‘Thank you – I think I can manage.’ Appleby was still inclined to treat with some asperity the confident young man whom he had found involved with his sister in a shooting match. ‘You came here by car?’

‘By taxi. I am a taxi driver.’

‘Then I hope you drive, sir, with rather less impetuosity than you fight.’ Appleby frowned, seemingly feeling that this had come out with rather more of complimentary implication than he had intended. He turned to his sister. ‘Can
you
drive a taxi?’

‘I don’t think, John, that I have the right sort of licence.’

‘Bother the licence. I don’t think that that wound’s serious. But it had better have medical attention at once – and not precisely the sort they seem to keep about here. Put this young man in his cab and drive him to Oxford at once.’

‘But, John, couldn’t we–’

‘
At once
. Drive straight to Casualty at the Radcliffe. When you’ve got him comfortably settled, dispose of his precious cab where you please. Then go back to Somerville and stay there. Perhaps you can find some dry garments in this barn of a place as you go. I shall.’

‘
Couldn’t
we–’

‘Listen. I shall bring you definite news by midnight. That’s a promise.’

‘Visitors can’t come in after–’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get in, even if I have to rouse the Principal from her bed. Now, get moving, or you’ll catch a chill. I’m off to get a line on all this uproar. It needs calming down.’

Remnant pointed to the big circular temple behind them. ‘If you go through there–’

‘Thank you. It will be quicker to go as I came.’ And Appleby took a shallow dive into the lake and vanished.

Hard after riding through the shattered wire gates the expedition split up, obedient to tactical dispositions laid down by Dick. Stuart Buffin found this an excellent plan; it meant that he and his friend Miles were on their own with a small group of like-minded Tigers, and that they could forget Dick and his unremittently asserted High Command. Piling their bicycles, they had made a wide detour to the left of the drive. Now they had climbed to the brow of a low hill, and the chimneys of the house could be seen below them.

‘It is on fire!’ A lanky boy ahead of the others pointed dramatically to the dark column of smoke rising from the house.

There was an immediate babel of voices, not very conformable with the idea of a military force moving up to a surprise attack. ‘The place is on fire… It’s burning down… Rot – that’s a potty little fire… Anyway, there’s a fire engine… Only the kind people keep themselves… It’s the crooks… Why should the crooks burn down their own place, you silly twerp?… I don’t believe there are any crooks… Shut up and come on…’

‘Listen!’ Stuart’s voice asserted itself above the hubbub. ‘I hear something else. Be quiet.’

The chatter dutifully stilled. Round the part of the building that was on fire orders were being shouted, and on a lawn at the side of the house a collection of elderly and harmless-looking people were huddled in a group talking. But over and above this there was certainly another sound. It was like the sound that an axe will make across a valley in frosty weather. Only this sound came in short bursts, with nothing of the regularity of axes being set to a tree.

‘It’s shooting.’ Stuart spoke with sudden conviction – and also considerable relief. ‘I was right. They
are
crooks.’

‘Crooks don’t spend their time shooting.’ A sceptical voice spoke from the back. ‘In this country they don’t often shoot at all.’

Stuart swung round. ‘Well,’ he demanded, ‘
isn’t
it shooting? Don’t you know the sound of a gun going off, you idiot?’

‘Probably somebody out after rabbits.’

The confusion of voices grew again. ‘The crooks are shooting… There’s a man out after rabbits… They’re shooting at the crooks… Somebody says there’s shooting… What rot… Listen, I tell you…’

‘Look!’ Miles’ arm had shot out. ‘Those buildings in the middle of the lake. You can see the flashes. It’s a battle. Come on, you asses!’

‘Here’s the fire brigade!’ The cry was raised by a shrill voice on the flank. ‘Golly, they’re coming at a lick.’

‘That’s not a fire brigade. All fire engines and things are red.’ Stuart was staring down at the drive. ‘These cars are blue.’

‘The fire brigade’s come… It isn’t the fire brigade… There’s a bell… That’s an ambulance bell… Rot… I tell you it is.’

Stuart was frowning. ‘The cars have something on their roof.’

‘It’s the police!’ Miles gave a shout of excitement that was quickly echoed by everybody. ‘It must have been to the police that Dick sent his telegram. They’ll join the shooting, with any luck. Run!’

The whole party tumbled downhill. Suddenly the lanky boy, who was still leading, dug his heels hard into the ground, slithered, and came to a stop. He had almost hurtled over the lip of a small precipice. The Tigers halted beside him, and stared down unbelievingly. What lay below them was a sort of den, gouged out of the side of the hill. And it contained half a dozen tigers.

‘It’s a zoo… There are tigers… It must be Whipsnade… And lions farther along… Masses of wild animals… You large idiot, Whipsnade’s miles away…’

‘It
is
a zoo – a sort of private zoo.’ Stuart had begun to skirt the upper edge of the series of dens. ‘They’re all barred in front, and then there’s a terrace to walk along. Let’s get down.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Miles did not approve of the way in which the adventure looked like degenerating into a mere visit to the zoological gardens. ‘I can just see something going on in a sort of yard behind the house. Chaps loading a lorry in a fearful hurry. I expect–’

‘There’s a helicopter going up!’ It was the young scientist Malcolm, who eagerly called attention to this new sensation. ‘Look – from behind that square temple, where they were shooting.’

Everybody stopped and stared. ‘It’s going up… It’s moving away… Why does its nose point down?… Why has it got a little propeller too?… That’s because of the torque, idiot… It hasn’t much speed… Yes, it has – wait and see…’

‘Look out!’ Miles’ voice was urgent, quelling the chatter. ‘There’s a man coming up that path on a motorbike. What a lick! and he’s coming this way. He’s coming along the terrace with the dens… Take cover.’

They flung themselves on the ground. The motorcycle had screeched to a stop at the end of the line of dens and the rider had leapt off. He was in a tearing hurry; and as they watched he began to run along the terrace, stopping every twenty yards and doing something that resulted each time in a heavy metallic clang.

‘He must be the keeper.’ Miles was whispering in Stuart’s ear. ‘He’s opening all the doors between the dens and turning them into one.’

‘It’s the crook!’ Stuart’s voice was tremulous with excitement.

‘What?’

‘The crook I saw chase the little man out of the house.’

‘The little man who was in my cat?’

‘Yes, you idiot. The little man shinned up the telephone pole, like I told you, and this fellow came running out after him. With a gun – I saw it. He’s got queer shoulders. I’d recognize him anywhere.’

‘They must be all the same crooks – that lot and the people holding the woman who got the wrong number – who wanted somebody called Kurt –
He’s letting them out!
’

The children all sprang to their feet. For there could be no doubt of what the man with the queer shoulders was now up to. He was heaving back a gate in the last den of all – a gate that opened on to the bare hillside. And in the den were lions.

Miles picked up a flint and hurled it. His aim was perfect, it took the man on the side of the face, and he staggered back. Miles and Stuart charged down the hill. The other Tigers, very little aware of what was happening, charged happily after them, whooping joyfully. The man looked up and saw the racing children; he hesitated, and then dashed for his machine. Some of the lions were roaring, and this was taken up by the other wild beasts farther back – beasts that were now padding and leaping into each other’s dens. As Miles reached the terrace the first lion emerged and paused uncertainly, waving its tail. The children behind, still unknowing, gave another yell. The lion retreated just inside the den and crouched. Miles flung his whole weight on the gate and it shut with a clang in the instant that the lion sprang at it. The creature fell back with a snarl, and then there was a moment of complete silence. The Tigers stood, solemnly staring through the bars at a congeries of beasts of prey that would have done credit to Noah’s ark.