Wallace of the Secret Service (19 page)

‘You think so, do you?’ retorted Sir Leonard.

A desperate idea had come to him. The chances of its success were not one in a hundred, but there happened to be no alternative. He stepped in front of the departing secretary, and ordered him to stop; then, before anybody thought of preventing him, had run to the door and called in Shannon.

‘Lock that door,’ he ordered. ‘Have you a revolver?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Draw it, and keep these people covered. If anyone moves, shoot him.’

He held a revolver in his own hand now and, standing in such a position that he could command the whole room, told a waiter to close and lock the service door, and bring him the key. The startled man obeyed.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ he invited, ‘kindly resume your seats.’

After a little hesitation, all except Lenin obeyed. The Russian Dictator remained standing, his hands clenching and unclenching, his eyes glaring hatred and death. It was obvious that once Sir Leonard’s resistance had been overcome, he would meet with very short shrift.

‘Did you hear me?’ observed the latter coldly. ‘Perhaps, as I used the word “gentlemen”, you did not think you were included. Sit down!’

Lenin still continued to stand, but the sight of the revolver slowly being raised, until it pointed at a spot between his eyes, broke his resolution. He threw himself into his chair, his face livid not so much with fear as with fury.

‘Thank you,’ acknowledged Wallace politely. ‘Now we can talk.’

‘What good do you think this is going to do you?’ stormed Lenin. ‘You cannot hold us up like this for long.’

‘You and I are about to make a bargain,’ Sir Leonard informed him.

‘Bargain!’ exclaimed Lenin, and again, ‘bargain!’ He laughed cruelly. ‘You amuse me,’ he sneered. ‘Do you really think I will stoop to bargain with you?’

‘I do,’ nodded Wallace. ‘You have accused me of being an impostor, and it is obvious that, no matter what I say, you will continue to regard me in that light. That being so, you are determined that, with the information I possess, you will never allow me to leave this country alive. Am I not right?’

‘You are perfectly correct,’ agreed Lenin now in quiet, sarcastic tones. ‘I will go further,’ he added. ‘You and the man with you will be shot in this very room. It will be a spectacle which will at once rid us of a danger and amuse my guests.’

Herr Paulus turned pale, and lifted a protesting hand.

‘As the representative of Germany,’ he said hastily, ‘I could not possibly countenance an – an atrocity.’

Lenin regarded him coldly.

‘It is necessary to deal with spies severely,’ he remarked, ‘and we, who have great issues dependent on us, must take steps to see that our secrets are not betrayed. If, as we sit here, we witness, with our own eyes, the execution of this man and his companions, we will be assured that we need not fear betrayal.’

‘Are you quite certain that this – this gentleman is a spy? What evidence have you?’

‘Is this not sufficient evidence?’ returned Lenin impatiently, tapping the telegram he still held. ‘There is only one fitting punishment for the crime of espionage – that is death! But we speak too much. Their bodies should, by this time, be lying lifeless before us.’

‘You mean,’ cried Paulus in horrified accents, ‘you would shoot them without a trial?’

‘Trial!’ laughed Lenin harshly. ‘What need is there for a trial?’

‘No; there won’t be a trial,’ put in Sir Leonard quietly. ‘You and I, Monsieur Lenin, are about to strike a bargain. There has, as you have remarked yourself, been too much talk. Listen to me!’

‘I will not listen to you,’ snarled the Russian. ‘I do not talk with men of your type.’

‘Nevertheless you will listen to what I have to say.’

Lenin started to speak again, but a sinister movement of the revolver silenced him. He was obviously not a brave man, and Sir Leonard began to hope that his scheme would succeed after all.

‘You, who have sent so many people to their deaths,’ went on the latter, ‘will be sent to yours very promptly, if you do not agree to my terms.’

‘What are they?’ snapped Lenin, probably thinking that, if he were compelled to promise anything, he could easily break his promise, when the revolver was no longer there to intimidate him.

‘My secretary and I will leave this room,’ declared Sir Leonard, ‘without interference. We shall depart from Moscow, and travel to the frontier in the car which is awaiting us below. There must be no attempt to detain us whatever. If there is any interference, you will be shot.’

‘Oh,’ sneered Lenin, ‘and who will shoot me?’

‘I will. You see, you are going to accompany us to the frontier as a hostage.’

This cool statement drove the Russian Dictator into a terrible passion. His countenance went from white to crimson and back again, while he struggled to find words.

Then a torrent of wild denunciations broke from his lips. Sir Leonard waited patiently until he apparently became exhausted.

‘You are simply wasting time by behaving like this,’ he observed. ‘The sooner you realise that I mean what I say, the better. If you refuse to accompany us, I will shoot you dead where you are, and take Monsieur Vassiloff with me as hostage.’

One long look of hatred Lenin gave him; then he and Vassiloff, the Commissary of Police, spoke eagerly together in whispers. Wallace ordered Shannon to go round and search everyone in the room to ascertain if they had weapons concealed on them. The young man met with a certain amount of opposition, but his methods were not too gentle, and those who resisted became like children in his hands. Not a weapon of any kind was found.

‘Now,’ commanded Sir Leonard, ‘we will depart, if you please. Stand up, Lenin, and you, too, Vassiloff!’

From the looks exchanged between the two Russians, it became evident that they had been plotting a counter-move. An expression of dismay spread over Vassiloff’s face.

‘Why am I included in that order?’ he asked.

‘Because I have decided to take you with me in any case,’ was the reply. ‘You’re not an expert dissembler, Vassiloff, and it is evident that you and Lenin had hatched some plot or other. Get up, both of you; I am in a hurry!’

‘Never,’ ground out Lenin.

Sir Leonard walked slowly towards him until the revolver was only a few inches from his head.

‘I’ll count to three,’ he threatened, ‘if, by the time I finish, you are still sitting there, I’ll fire. One – two—’

The Russian’s face once again went livid, and he rose hastily to his feet.

‘Good,’ commented Wallace. ‘You, too, Vassiloff.’ He had no difficulty with the Commissary. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ he said, turning to the other Russians at the table, ‘the best thing you can do is to return to your homes. I give you my word that, if any attempt is made to arrest or in any way interfere with my companions and myself, Messieurs Lenin and Vassiloff will be shot. It would be easy enough, for instance, to telephone through to some town or village en route, and order us to be stopped by soldiers armed with rifles and so on, but directly such an attempt is made, you can prepare to go into mourning for these hostages. I hope I am quite understood.’ He turned his eyes on the foreign delegates. ‘If I may presume to advise you gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I suggest that you return to your own countries as soon as possible, and entirely forget why you came to Moscow. Believe me, it would be the wisest thing you could do.’

‘Who are you?’ asked Herr Paulus in a hoarse voice.

‘Does that matter?’ smiled Wallace.

He told Shannon to unlock the service door and, as soon as that was done, ordered Lenin and Vassiloff to move. They made a last attempt at resistance, urging, among other things, the necessity for warm coats and hats, but the revolvers, held so firmly by Shannon and his chief, proved effective silencers to all objections, and complete answers to every argument. Led by Shannon, and with Sir Leonard in the rear, the quartet passed out of the room followed by the dismayed looks of the men remaining at the table. The door was locked behind them, and they descended the stairs, walked along several passages, and emerged into a side street. In their progress they had been fortunate enough to avoid meeting a soul, which was the reason why Sir Leonard had chosen the back way. It was a dark night, and there were very few people about. Sending Shannon round to the front entrance to fetch the car, he stood guard over his prisoners. It was chilly and a slight rain was falling, a fact which did not conduce to a better frame of mind in the Russians. Presently a huge car turned the corner, and pulled up close to them. Wallace sighed his relief when he saw that it was a limousine.

‘You won’t want coats after all,’ he observed cheerfully.

Assisted by Shannon and Cousins, he shepherded the hostages in, and got in after them. The little man’s face was a mass of delighted wrinkles.

‘Shall we keep the driver, sir?’ he asked.

Wallace pondered the question for a moment.

‘No,’ he decided at last; ‘it will be safer to leave him behind. Not knowing the country, we may be driven into a trap, if we trust
to him. You and Shannon will have to take turns. Get us out of Moscow; then we’ll study the map in my case, and—’

‘I’ve already taken the liberty of doing that, sir,’ interrupted Cousins. ‘Where do you intend to make for?’

‘Smolensk, Minsk and the Polish border,’ promptly replied Sir Leonard. ‘I don’t want you to go through those towns, if it is possible to avoid them, but that’s the general direction. How about petrol?’

‘We’ve enough to take us a hundred and fifty miles. I daresay we can get some more long before that runs out.’ He turned to the chauffeur, who was sitting in his seat looking rather puzzled. ‘Come on, little brother,’ he said in Russian, ‘out you get.’

The man commenced to protest, whereupon Wallace stuck the muzzle of his revolver into Vassiloff’s ribs.

‘Tell him it is your command,’ he said.

Reluctantly he was obeyed, and the driver, looking more puzzled than ever, climbed out of the car. Cousins promptly took his place, Shannon jumped inside and sat next to Sir Leonard, and they were off. They were a long time getting out of Moscow, as Cousins chose a circuitous route in order to avoid the main streets, but eventually they were through the suburbs heading west. Vassiloff and Lenin sat like graven images, their faces eloquently expressive of baffled rage. Opposite them, revolvers handy, were Wallace and Shannon. Hour after hour went by, scarcely a word was uttered, but neither of the Russians made any attempt to sleep. It was long after midnight when the car stopped by a petrol pump in the outskirts of Viazena. Cousins’ face appeared at the window.

‘If I can wake up these people, sir,’ he remarked, ‘I think we’d better take in ten gallons, and a couple of tins of oil.’

Wallace nodded. Assisted by Shannon, the little man succeeded in rousing the fellow in charge of the petrol station, and obtained the necessary supplies. Shannon drove, when the journey was resumed, and Cousins took his place inside. Sixty miles from Smolensk, a tyre burst. Luckily there were two spare wheels, and the exchange was quickly made. Sir Leonard decided to rest where they were, and he and his two companions took turns in guarding the Russians. At seven they continued on their way, stopping at a small village for breakfast. Lenin and Vassiloff were not permitted to leave the car for fear that the sight of the Russian Dictator would excite comment. At first he and the Commissary refused food, but apparently the sight of it was too much for their appetites, for after some time they fell to almost eagerly.

All day long they travelled fast, stopping only for meals, petrol, and occasionally, in deserted places, to enable the Russians to stretch their legs. A way was found along the north bank of the Dnieper which enabled them to avoid going through Smolensk. At nightfall they were almost two hundred miles beyond that city and very close to Minsk. There had been no further punctures, and not a vestige of engine trouble.

‘We’ll be over the border by eight in the morning, if we start early,’ exulted Shannon, when they drew up for the night. ‘By Jove! It’ll be good to be in Poland.’

In his enthusiasm he spoke in English. Sir Leonard’s warning look was too late to stop him, and Lenin and Vassiloff exchanged significant glances.

‘We are dealing with Englishmen, it seems,’ observed the latter.

‘You are,’ admitted Wallace. ‘You will realise, therefore, what is likely to be the result of your latest effort to break the peace of the world and force your system of government on other nations.’

‘I realise,’ growled Lenin, ‘that it is necessary you three should be prevented from leaving Russia. Your deaths will be more acceptable than ever now I know you are English.’

Wallace laughed.

‘Considering the position in which you are placed at present,’ he remarked, ‘I must confess that I find your optimism most refreshing – and amusing.’

The night passed off quietly, each of the Englishmen in turn keeping watch as before. At daybreak the journey was resumed. Minsk was reached in half an hour, but, in endeavouring to make a wide circuit, Cousins, who was driving, lost his way, and it was over an hour before he struck the main road running to the frontier. After that, however, he went all out in an effort to make up for lost time. Then abruptly he drew up. Wondering what had happened, Wallace and Shannon looked out, and the sight that met their eyes caused them both to utter exclamations of astonishment and dismay. They were in the midst of a great military encampment. Ahead, and on both sides, as far as the eye could reach, were troops, guns, tanks and ammunition trains. There must have been thousands of men in the vicinity. Wallace looked hard at Lenin.

‘Of course you knew of this,’ he observed. ‘It explains a lot. I have been wondering all along why no attempt whatever has been made to capture us and rescue you.’

A sneering smile appeared on Lenin’s dark face.

‘As you see,’ he said, ‘there was no need. Naturally, it was known that manoeuvres were being held here and, as soon as it was ascertained which direction you had taken, matters would be left in the capable hands of my colleague, Leon Trotsky, who would, of course, be informed by telegraph.’