Through Streets Broad and Narrow (47 page)

“Well, it's freezing cold hanging about,” John said. “What's the time now and what's the next move?”

“It's just on midnight. The street lights should go off any minute now. When they do we'll go ahead with the second part of the plan. Damn nuisance about young Ffynch, a recce's invaluable in a night-show, particularly when you've only got half a bloody eye. Now d'you remember the details? ‘A' Party, that's Groarke and myself, will go ahead to the garage and fix up the bomb; ‘B' party, you and Giertych with the rod arrangement, will have a go at unhooking the eagle. You'd better give us ten minutes' start as we may have difficulties with the garage window, or even with the hinges if we have to take off one of the doors. Ah,
good!
” Galpin looked up as along the Canal Road, right along Merrion Street, the lighting suddenly flicked off.
“Now you know where the car is? Once you've got the eagle, make straight for it at the double; and for God's sake don't forget the window pole, don't want to leave any clues behind us. Seamus will pick up ‘B' party lower down the road so that even if you're nabbed by someone, Groarke and I will still be able to deploy. All clear?”

“Yes,” said John. “By the way, were there any dogs, d'you think?”

“No dogs! or if there are, they're fast asleep. Wasn't even a whimper when Ffynch set off. Right, off shoes! And we'll have a nip of rum to keep the cold out.”

The Colonel passed round his flask as they all sat down on the wall and removed their shoes. “Ten minutes,” he said to John. “Now cut along to the Packard, dump the shoes and pick up Jedrez. If I whistle once, tip off my chauffeur and make straight for the club on foot.”

Groarke and the Colonel disappeared silently in the darkness. The city's clocks in towers and turrets were chiming midnight, there was no wind and in the quiet every sound carried clearly as though the freezing air acted as an amplifier. John picked up the three pairs of shoes and ran along past the black façades of the Georgian houses in the direction of the car. It was two hundred yards along the road and as he drew nearer he saw Jedrez waiting beside it with the club pole in his hand like a squat knight with a very long lance.

John handed in the shoes to the chauffeur and asked him, “Any signs of Mr. Chamberlyn-Ffynch?”

“Not a thing, sir. But the gentleman won't have got far without his leather, I'm thinking.”

“Don't let us down, will you, Seamus?”

“I'll be there, sir.”

John and Groarke set off slowly. At fifteen minutes past twelve they entered the drive of the consulate and found Groarke awaiting them.

“We've had some luck,” he whispered. “Luthmann's left his car out; it's standing outside the house. Old Galpin's nearly finished so you can get started straightaway on the eagle, while we wait here to warn you if anyone shows up along the road.
I've to come back with you in case he needs my torch again.”

They met the Colonel halfway down the drive. He was jubilant.

“Changed my mind,” he whispered, “wired the thing up to his horn, much better than the ignition. Won't blow up in German territory then, just simply blast the backside off his car the first time he hoots at anyone. Now hurry up and get the trophy and we'll rendezvous at the Club.”

“They are asleep in there?” asked Jedrez hungrily.

“No monkey business, Jedrez. Blaydon, for God's sake don't let this devil get in at a window or we'll all be wanted for murder by the morning.” The Colonel peered at his luminous watch. “You've got fifteen minutes at the outside. Now double up!”

John was balanced on Groarke's shoulders, fishing for the hanging plaque on which the eagle was enamelled when Palgrave and the two guarda came out of the laurel bushes. The policemen had bright torches and one of them said, “You can pass down that weapon now and get down to the ground.”

John whistled once and jumped for it. As he and Groarke fled up the drive on their stockinged feet they heard Palgrave shouting, “It's no good, they've got a car. You might as well come back.” But they ran on faster than ever and turned into Merrion Road. They heard the doors of the Packard slam as Groarke and the Colonel got in, the engine rev up and scream as it reversed towards them from the direction of the Canal Bridge. As it came level they jumped on the running board. The car flicked into bottom gear and swept forward, turning right into Canal Road as Groarke and John wriggled in through the open windows on either side.

But they were overtaken by the police car when they were no more than the five hundred yards past the weir. The policemen came past them at an easy eighty and slewed their car across the road a hundred yards ahead of them. Seamus, the Colonel's chauffeur, stood on the brakes and drew up just in time to avoid a broadside collision.

The Colonel was out before the guarda but they were just a
little too quick for him. One of them grabbed him and the other lined the rest of them up alongside the canal.

“Well, that's the lot of them, isn't it?” said the first guarda. “Four it would be and the chauffeur.”

“And the other fellow we caught first, him in the car,” said the second.

“Making five in all.”

“Wid the chauffeur?”

“Get the other fellow from the car, him wid the bald head and you'll see it's six and the chauffeur.”

The Colonel interrupted. “You'll have to excuse me, I've got a bladder complaint. Running upsets me, I must have a Jimmy Riddle immediately.”

“Go wid him, Mick,” ordered the first guarda. “Now the rest of youz line up there and give me your names in order, together.”

The Colonel fell out and walked with great modesty down by the canal accompanied by the second guarda. When they reached the police car he suddenly shouted, “Now's your chance, Palgrave! By God, they're off! He's away.”

In the confusion which followed this announcement, the Colonel disappeared. The guarda who had been detailed to watch him hesitated between chasing him and preventing Palgrave, who had no intention of doing anything of the sort, from getting out of the police car. In the end he ran back to it and ordered Palgrave to line up with the others and then himself rejoined his colleague.

The first guarda said, “Where's the other one?”

“I have him.”

“No, the other fellow.”

“Him wid the bald head?”

“No, the little fellow wid the billycock hat?”

“He had no hat. Didn't he lose it with us chasing him?”

They conferred together a moment and then the first one asked Groarke. “Now how many was there in this?”

“Five.”

“I'm suggestin' there was six, including the chauffeur?”

“No, five.”

“Well then, what's happened to the little fellow wid the billycock hat?” persisted the guarda, shining his torch in Groarke's face.

Groarke blinked.

“There wasn't no such fellow, guarda. We've none of us a hat except the chauffeur.”

“Well what's happened to him that wanted to pass his water a while back?”

“That was me,” said Jedrez heavily, “I have a complaint of the bladder.”

“What's your name?”

“Jedrez Giertych.”

The first guarda turned his attention to John.

“How many was there in it?”

“Five,” said John, “or four without the chauffeur, who's nothing to do with it.”

“Then what's happened to the little fellow that wanted to pass his—”

“That was my friend here, Mr. Giertych.”

The second guarda approached. He said, “Now what's your nationalities?”

“Irish, Anglo-Irish, English and Polish,” Groarke said.

“And your occupations and addresses?”

“Not forgetting your passports,” put in the first.

There was a pause; then one of them said to the other, “O'Donovan, I think we'd better be getting them back to the Castle before we lose any more of them.”

“You're right on that. Just a minute, though.” The speaker flashed his torch down the row of faces. “Now who would be responsible for the Pole here?”

There was silence.

“Now come on, we'll have it out of you sooner than later. Whose is the responsibility?”

John said, “He's a friend of mine, from England.”

The guarda swallowed something. “There's no call for humour now. I'm meaning
this
.” He brandished the club equipment angrily. “The pole wid the hook on it.”

Angrily he hustled Groarke and John into the police car,
while the other, with Palgrave arid the chauffeur, tailed them through the deserted streets to Dublin Castle.

John whispered to Groarke, “Where did he put it?”

“What?”

“The bomb, you fool.”

“In the boot. Holy God! Was this the car?”

“Of course it was.”

“No whispering there,” called out the guarda.

“In the boot,” Groarke said, “and we're in the back seat.”

“Be quiet there.”

But the guarda did not touch the horn until they had reached the Castle yard and he had handed them over to the night duty sergeant. Then as he reversed out of the way of the incoming Packard he accidentally pressed the horn with his elbow. The resulting explosion blew the cover of the boot twenty yards and broke five of the Castle windows and it was decided that the prisoners should be transferred immediately to the Bridewell Gaol on the charge not only of infringing Irish neutrality but of damaging civic property.

They arrived there at two o'clock in the morning and were made to hand over their money, keys, knives and wristwatches to the night officer. They were then taken up a stone staircase to the first floor and shown into a four-bedded cell.

Jedrez Giertych walked in first, appraised the four plank beds, the internal water closet and the dull bulb in the ceiling and walked out again.

“This will not do, officer.”

“So you don't like it?”

“It compares favourably with Colditz and the Russian prisons. It is a great deal better than many of our Polish political institutions. But there are four beds in there.”

“And four blankets,” said the officer grimly, “and one flushing closet wid the chain on the landing.”

“I will sleep with three, with four, five or six men. I will share my imprisonment with twelve men for the sake of my unfortunate country. But I will not sleep with even one informer.” Jedrez pointed in through the open door at Palgrave, who was
squatting miserably on one of the plank beds. “Officer! Remove that man at once!”

“At once, is it?” The officer looked bewildered.

“He has betrayed his country and his comrades into the hands of the police. This night he awaited our arrest with your country's Gestapo. Do you think I do not realize that he is an
agent provocateur
imprisoned with us to report on our conversation and our plans for escape? As a Colonel in my country's former army I order you to remove the traitor immediately or he will be dead when you bring us our breakfast in the morning.”

“Escape, is it? And just where d'yez think you'd be escaping to from the Bridewell? Now, sir, you get back into that cell before you find yourself below ground.”

But Palgrave came forward to the door.

“Frankly, officer, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather be put somewhere else. I don't know if you quite realize it but my father, Captain Chamberlyn-Ffynch—I don't feel awfully like sleeping in any case; but if anything happens to me—I really must insist on a separate room.”

“Holy Mack, what the devil's into you all with this talk of Gestapo and agents and captains and colonels. Even if
you
don't feel like sleeping, sir, perhaps you've no objection if other people feel the need of it.”

“Anywhere at all will do,” said Palgrave hopelessly, “as long as I'm on my own.”

The door clanged shut and they heard the officer locking Palgrave into an adjacent cell. In a few moments they heard the rattle of his key chain as he passed their door and descended the stairs. In the ceiling the light went out.

John lay down on his plank bed and pulled his blanket over him. In the darkness he addressed Groarke.

“Mike, d'you realize I've had it?”

“I'm going to sleep. No point in talking.”

“But my exam, Mike! The viva! I'm supposed to be taking it in eight hours' time.”

“Eight weeks,” Groarke said.

“Even months. Mike, for God's sake tell me what happens to political prisoners in a neutral country?”

There was a crash by the closet corner and they both sat up.

“What on earth are you doing, Jedrez?” John asked.

“You will remember your rank from now onwards, please,” came Jedrez' voice. “As the senior member of the group I have appointed myself your commanding officer. You will address me as Colonel.”

Groarke swore to himself and there was silence. After a few moments during which Giertych could be heard breathing heavily and grunting as though he were exerting himself, Groarke asked, “Colonel, what are you doing?”

“I test the bars of this grating by standing on the closet seat, but it is insecurely fastened and I fall. However, the bars are cast iron only and give access to the ventilation system. There will be no need to use my file as the walls of the building are old. Providentially for ourselves the entire building is what the English Air Force calls ‘a piece of cake.'”

“File?” John asked.

“I always carry three. We will have an escape conference.”

“In the morning, Colonel?”

“In the morning, no. It is the duty of all nationals to seek escape. We have the alternatives of strangling the guard when he brings us our food in the morning, of starting on the construction of a tunnel before daylight, or of removing this grating when one of us, the thinnest and most agile, will volunteer to explore it.”