The Aquila Project (12 page)

‘Ah! Constable!’ cried Baron Augustyniak. ‘You’ve arrived here commendably quickly. I want you to take this girl in charge. I accuse her of being a thief.’

The constable glanced at Vanessa, looked carefully at her face, and then took a notebook and pencil from his pocket.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, and when she told him that it was Susan Moore, he wrote it down slowly and laboriously. Then he turned to face the baron.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘there’s a Scotland Yard officer working at a case close by, and I’ve asked him to come here to help. I can’t arrest this young woman without some evidence, and this officer from the Yard will be a great help.’

‘Very well,’ said the baron. ‘Is it in order for my guests to leave, now? It’s almost half past ten.’

‘That will be quite in order, sir,’ said the constable, ‘provided that you will be available for questioning. It’s really a matter of
routine, nothing more than that. If your coachman will keep an eye on the girl, I’ll fetch the Scotland Yard officer straight away.’

A moment later, the baron had ushered his guests along the corridor, and the constable had disappeared through the garden door. Vanessa and Joseph Doyle stood in a kind of embarrassed silence for a while, and then the coachman spoke.

‘You’d better admit to being a thief, Miss Drake,’ he said, ‘so that by arresting you the police will be able to spirit you away from this lion’s den—’

‘You know who I am?’ cried Vanessa. ‘But how—’

Joseph Doyle chuckled to himself. ‘Well, of course I know who you are! Just do as I say, and play up to this Scotland Yarder when he comes. The colonel wouldn’t like anything nasty to happen to you. That’s why I came here in the first place.’

‘What happened to the original coachman? Mr Quiller said he’s gone off in a huff.’

‘He went off, miss, because someone paid him to do so. You know who I mean.’

‘But how could you get away with pretending to be a coachman?’

‘I
am
a coachman,’ Doyle replied, ‘and I’m minded to stay here for a while. It’s a nice billet. But look! That constable’s returned with his Scotland Yard friend. I’ll make myself scarce. Remember what I told you: admit to being a thief. That’ll get you out of here.’

As he was speaking, the garden door had opened to admit the constable, followed immediately by the Scotland Yard officer. Vanessa almost cried out in surprise. It was her fiancé, Jack Knollys. Joseph Doyle smiled to himself, and slipped out the room. At the same time, Baron Augustyniak came up from the entrance hall, where he had been bidding his guests farewell.

Jack Knollys turned to look at Vanessa, and his face broke into a smile of triumph.

‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘if it isn’t Gertie Miller! A little bird told
me that you might be up to your tricks in St John’s Wood. The game’s up, Gert. Have you got Johnny the Stoat with you?’

‘I’m saying nothing, Mr Knollys,’ said Vanessa sulkily. Knollys turned away from her impatiently, and addressed Baron Augustyniak, who had not taken his eyes off Vanessa. His face held an expression which was an uncomfortable mixture of mockery and relief. It was impossible, thought Vanessa, to know what that enigmatic man really thought of his erring housemaid.

‘Sir,’ said Knollys in low tones, ‘this young woman is well known to us, and in the normal course of things she’ll be held overnight, and brought up before the magistrate in the morning. But you, or a member of your household, will need to lay a complaint against her, and will be called as a witness, as she was seized by you on suspicion, and not caught
in
flagrante
delicto
.’

A little shadow of anxiety crossed the baron’s brow, which Knollys took as a cue to make a suggestion.

‘Now, I appreciate, sir,’ he said, ‘that this is a Diplomatic
household
, and if you wish, I can prosecute this case myself, and make a brief statement to the press. I shall have to identify the house, but nobody will need to be called as a witness. I will leave you to decide what course of action to take.’

‘I should be glad to hand the whole squalid affair over to you, Sergeant,’ said the baron. ‘The Russian Ambassador would, I know, take it as a great favour if I was allowed not to appear personally in the business.’

‘The Russian Ambassador, sir? I understood that you were a Polish gentleman?’

‘It’s the same thing,’ replied the baron, shortly. ‘See to the matter, will you, Sergeant?’ He suddenly turned on his heel and hurried away.

Knollys turned to the constable, who was standing guard over Vanessa.

‘Constable,’ he said, I want you to look around the grounds, just in case her accomplice, Johnny the Stoat, is with her. Come
on, Gertie, I’m going to search your room, just in case you’ve helped yourself to anything else of the baron’s, and then you pack your things. It’s a night in the cells for you, my girl, and up before the beak in the morning.’

Vanessa led her captor to a door in the hall that took them up the servants’ staircase to the third floor. She opened the door of her room, and hurried in, closely followed by Knollys. She was immediately all but smothered in one of Jack Knollys’ powerful embraces.

‘He knew you’d overstep the mark,’ he said, when he had released her. ‘That’s why he made sure that I was here most nights. He’ll give you what for, when he sees you next.’

‘Jack,’ Vanessa whispered, ‘he’ll forgive me immediately when he hears what I have to tell him. This Baron—’

‘Don’t say anything now, Cornflower,’ said Jack. ‘You never know who’s listening. Just pack up all your things, and I’ll get you out of here. I’ve got a cab waiting at the end of the road.’

It had been a great adventure, Vanessa mused, as she began to pack. Her only regret would be not seeing her young friend Ellen again, and leaving behind her the belief that she was a common thief and criminal. Somehow, the idea of Mr Quiller thinking that to be the truth filled her with an almost painful regret.

V
ANESSA SAT BACK
on the stuffed horsehair seat of the cab, and sighed with relief. It was quite dark, and the elegant streets of St John's Wood were radiant with gaslight. Mixed with the smell of stale tobacco and damp, she could just discern the perfume of night-scented stock. The cab driver had not waited for instructions, but had driven swiftly out of Cavendish Gardens and into the dark expanse of Regent's Park. Despite her
excitement
, Vanessa found that her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, and she slept.

She awoke with a start to find that they had crossed Marylebone Road, and were making their way along Harley Street. She glanced at Jack Knollys, who was separated from her by her bulky carpet bag. He looked stern and preoccupied.

‘Where are we going, Jack?' she asked. Her fiancé seemed to wake up from a kind of trance.

‘What? Oh, it's you, Cornflower. Is this your little carpet bag? What do you want to know?'

‘I want to know where we're going. We'll be in Mayfair, soon, at this rate.'

‘We're going to Lipton's Hotel, in George Street, just off Hanover Square. As soon as Baron Augustyniak sent for the police – and that was providential, if you like! – I alerted the colonel to the situation, and he said that he would see you straight away.
Lipton's Hotel is one of his bases, apparently. A bit like Bagot's, only on a more modest scale.'

‘I don't want him to see me dressed like this,' said Vanessa. ‘In this housemaid's dress, and old black coat. He's always seen me smart and well turned out.'

‘He doesn't care what you're wearing, Cornflower. Neither do I, for that matter. You look all right to me. You always have, and you always will. Here we are now, turning in to Hanover Square.'

It was rather gloomy in the entrance hall to Lipton's Hotel, as the gaslights had been turned down to a glimmer. A young man seated in a kind of mahogany and glass cabinet near the door glanced up at them as they came in from George Street.

‘He's upstairs,' said the young man. ‘Number 6, on the first floor.'

At Jack's insistence, Vanessa preceded him up the staircase, which was thickly carpeted. She had never been in Lipton's Hotel before. From what she could see of it, it was very comfortable, and of a high standard. They found Number 6, and Knollys knocked quietly on the door. A voice bade them come in, and Vanessa and Jack entered the room.

Colonel Kershaw rose from a chair near the fireplace of what was evidently a sitting-room. Vanessa noticed that coffee and sandwiches had been set out on a small table, and suddenly felt hungry. Sitting opposite the colonel was Arnold Box, and standing at one of the windows overlooking George Street was a man in his late thirties, his face adorned with a clipped moustache, and with lines of good humour at the corners of his deep-set blue eyes.

‘Missy!' cried Colonel Kershaw, ‘so you've been successfully abducted from the clutches of the foe! I expect you've a lot of things to tell me, but first you'd better fortify yourself from the food and drink laid ready on that table. And you, Mr Knollys. Of course, you both know Inspector Box. This other gentleman is Major Blythe, from the Home Office. Major Blythe and I
occasionally
work together. So sit down, both of you, and sustain the inner man – and woman. Then we will talk.'

Vanessa did as she was bid, and poured out two steaming cups of coffee for Jack Knollys and herself. The sandwiches, a selection of ham, chicken and cucumber, were very fresh, and they both did full justice to them. Meanwhile, Kershaw, Box and Major Blythe talked in low tones among themselves. It was only when the colonel had seen that Vanessa and Jack had both finished their refreshments that he spoke to them.

‘And now, Miss Drake,' he said, ‘the time's come for you to tell me all that happened to you since you set foot in White Eagle Lodge on Friday, the 6th. Take your time, and try to recall
everything
concerning Baron Augustyniak, his wife, and his guests. I will not interrupt your story unless it's absolutely necessary.'

Vanessa told her audience all about the master and mistress of White Eagle Lodge. She gave a complete set of verbal portraits of all the servants, what they said and what they did. She dwelt in great detail on the fateful dinner party, describing and naming the guests, and repeating word for word what Doctor Kessler had said about Arnold Box. She saw Box pull a wry face, and when she described how she had spilt the mint sauce, she saw a fleeting smile cross Colonel Kershaw's face.

He leaned forward in his chair when she began her account of the scene in the study, which had culminated in her exposure. She concluded her tale by asserting that although Baron Augustyniak had treated her roughly when he had found her in the silver-cupboard, she still thought that he was normally a considerate gentleman, with a kindly regard for his servants. He seemed to be both patient and resigned in the matter of his wife's jealousy.

When Vanessa had finished her tale, Colonel Kershaw sat in absorbed silence for what seemed like minutes. For a brief moment she wondered whether he was going to dismiss her from his service for exceeding her brief. It would not have been the first occasion that he had almost decided to do so. The thought
troubled
her more than she had realized. Did he know that her loyalty to him was total and unconditional?

She saw Jack Knollys looking at her with quiet amusement, and realized that he had read her thoughts. She loved Jack Knollys, and hoped that one day soon he would name the day. As for Colonel Kershaw – well, she had special feelings for him, too, and had long ago sensed that he regarded her as a kind of surrogate daughter….

Colonel Kershaw pulled himself up straight in his chair beside the fireplace.

‘Well, Miss Drake,' he said, in his quiet voice, ‘I think you have excelled yourself on this particular mission. The information that you have brought me is quite invaluable, and I cannot see any other way in which I could have obtained it. Well done, missy!'

Vanessa felt herself blushing with pleasure. He was going to keep her, and something told her that there would never again be talk of a parting of the ways. She muttered a quiet ‘Thank you, sir'.

‘You have witnessed this evening,' Kershaw continued, ‘a
gathering
of some of the most dangerous men who have ever assembled in an English house to plot treason and anarchy, and rather than exclude you from this conference, I will ask you to remain for a little while and listen to what I have to say.

‘First, I knew nothing of evil report about Baron Augustyniak, but now I see him as what he himself called the “anchor man” of this organization, The Thirty. Incidentally, Miss Drake, what a very good memory you have! All those foreign names, and whole sentences of dialogue. That's an invaluable asset, which could be of special use in the future.

‘Second, let me talk about Doctor Franz Kessler. I know a great deal about him. Mr Box here has met him, and so has Sir Charles Napier. Kessler has recently been appointed Second Secretary at Prussia House. This man, a Doctor of Law from Heidelberg University, is an expert swordsman and a crack shot with a rifle. He is a man with blood on his hands, and a ruthless
determination
to see any project with which he's associated carried through to success.'

Vanessa listened, fascinated. It was not often that she was allowed to share in this kind of consultation. It was as though the colonel felt that she was now ready for greater trust and responsibility than he had seen fit to bestow upon her in the past.

‘There are some people,' Kershaw continued, ‘myself included, who wonder why such a man has been given a post carrying
diplomatic
immunity. Sir Charles Napier believes that Kessler has powerful friends in the higher German Establishment. Whatever the truth of the matter, Kessler is now a diplomat, and therefore not subject to the stringencies of our British law. As you yourself have witnessed, Miss Drake, Kessler has a violent temper – hardly a diplomatic trait.'

‘And he's a crack shot with a rifle, sir?' said Box. ‘That's very interesting.'

‘It is, Box. He is also a killer. I know for a fact that he had committed two violent murders for political purposes, as the agent of a third party. I know who that third party is. So does Napier. I am convinced now that Kessler was sent here to London purely to fulfil some nefarious purpose of this nest of assassins and dreamers calling themselves The Thirty. It seems that he's the blackmailer-in-chief of this precious gang, and that he has a hold over a number of English collaborators….'

Colonel Kershaw stopped speaking, and turned to look at Major Blythe, who, so far, had sat silently, listening intently to what he was saying.

‘Blythe,' said the Colonel, ‘in connection with that other matter – the police business that we talked about – do you think there's anything doing in that direction? About Kessler and his
diplomatic
safe, you know?'

‘I'd say yes, Colonel; very decidedly. After all, there'd be nothing to lose for all parties on our side. What do you think, Mr Box?'

‘About – oh, yes, I see. Well, I've no objection, gentlemen, as
long as you don't tell me anything about it. Or Sergeant Knollys.'

‘There you are, Colonel,' said Major Blythe. ‘Everybody's in agreement on that matter. Do you want me to put it in train when I see him?'

‘Please. If you will. I'm infinitely obliged to you, Blythe.'

I wonder what they're talking about? thought Vanessa. Whatever it is, Jack and I are not to be privy to it. Well, that was how people worked in Colonel Kershaw's organization. You were told only what you needed to know, and there was no point in going into tantrums about it.

‘Now,' said Kershaw, turning towards Vanessa once again, ‘let me just conclude what I have to say about the other folk at Baron Augustyniak's dinner party. The man called Gerdler is probably the quartermaster of The Aquila Project. I know about him, too. He is a brilliant organizer, and an arranger of comings and goings, with a whole coterie of people employed by him for various
nefarious
purposes. He keeps just within the law of whatever country he's operating in, but is nonetheless a man of deep criminal tendencies. He's also an expert in firearms, and keeps a gunsmith's shop near Covent Garden. His political views are those of his friend and fellow conspirator, Kessler.

‘As for Eidenschenk, well, he sounds like another Gerdler, an organizer, with men of his own, but I'd say that he's much more of a Polish patriot than the other Poles who were present at that dinner. He is also a liar. There is no “unidentified nation” paying Grunwalski ten thousand pounds. That money is probably coming from a cartel of European business interests, notably the armaments manufacturers of Bohemia and the Ruhr. If The Aquila Project succeeds, there will be plenty of work to keep the
armaments
factories busy. There are other conclusions that I can draw from Miss Drake's intelligence report, but I need to keep them to myself for the moment.'

Kershaw stood up, and looked gravely at Vanessa.

‘Miss Drake,' he said, ‘I don't want to alarm you, but I'm concerned that Doctor Franz Kessler might want to finish his business with you. Although you were at White Eagle Lodge under an incognito, men like that have ways of finding things out. I want you to stay here, in Lipton's Hotel for tonight. It's nearly twelve, and I'm sure you'd appreciate a good night's rest. Sergeant Knollys, would you care to remain here also, in order to keep watch over Miss Drake during the dark hours? Tomorrow, missy, we'll arrange for you to be taken to a place of safety. It's only for a little while, because, unless I'm very much mistaken, Doctor Kessler will have quit these shores before many days have elapsed.'

Kershaw pulled the bell, and almost immediately a housekeeper knocked and entered the room. She was accompanied by the young man from the reception booth on the ground floor.

‘Miss Drake is ready to retire, Mrs Wade,' he said. ‘Please show her to her room. Mr Davies, would you show Sergeant Knollys where he can camp for the night?'

He took Vanessa gravely by the hand, and bowed briefly over it.

‘Good night, missy,' he said, ‘we shall meet again before the month is out. And once again, well done!'

‘I didn't expect her to remain undetected for more than a few days,' said Kershaw when Vanessa and Jack Knollys had left the room. ‘It's particularly difficult to sustain the fiction that you are a trained servant when, in fact, you're something quite different. She's a valiant girl…. Franz Kessler is a ruthless foe, and there are some people who think he's slightly mad. It's odd, you know, to find someone as German as Kessler – or Gerdler, for that matter – being so deeply involved in one of these Polish
conspiracies
. Still, we must face the fact that he is so involved, and act accordingly.

‘Box,' Kershaw continued, ‘can you arrange a place of safety
for Miss Drake? I don't want to draw her into one of my secret places: that would be to continue the alarm and anxiety of her situation. It would have to be somewhere where she could stay while you and I are – er – otherwise engaged.'

‘I know just the place, sir,' said Box. ‘I shall take her there first thing in the morning.'

‘Excellent. Now, I don't want to detain Major Blythe much longer, as it's getting very late. So can we just complete this piece of police business that we were discussing before Miss Drake arrived? Are you sure, Mr Box, that you can arrange the enquiry to take place where Major Blythe's presence would seem quite natural?'

‘I see no problem at all, sir. The enquiry can be held in Albany Street Police Station, which is near Regent's Park, and the
headquarters
of “S” Division. Superintendent Harris already knows about it, and has agreed to let Superintendent Keating chair the committee on his patch, as we say. He also knows that Major Blythe is something more than just a member of the Hampstead Watch Committee.'