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Briers
Briers, Falk and Gervaise Hayman were on their way back to the little town when they got word that their transport had arrived. That it was Harry Cross who brought it was a surprise, likewise that Hayman immediately stepped up to offer his condolences.
"I only spoke to Utkin a couple of times," he said as they walked back to town, "but he impressed me as being a really decent chap. I'm so sorry for your loss."
Harry nodded. "He was, I'll miss him."
"Has his family been informed?" Hayman asked
Harry shook his head. "He has no family that he knew of. He lost track of them during the war."
"He said he was from Odessa," Briers said. "I expect there were a lot of orphans in that city."
"I've arranged that he be buried here, at the local church," Harry said. "I'm not going to stay for the service. Miss Aston has organised a way for us all to get to London quickly and Nik wouldn't have wanted me to miss that any more than I would if the circumstances were reversed. Does - does that seem cold?"
"Not at all," Falk said. Briers didn't add a comment of his own, just nodded and reflected that - if he was burying someone he cared for as much as Ari seemed to care for Nik - he wouldn't want to do it all alone in a strange place and then have to find his own way out of the country.
"I am rather intrigued by the nature of Miss Aston's arrangements," Falk added.
Briers snorted. "Don't tell me - she's chartered a private train."
"Not quite," Harry said, but refused to fill them in with any more information.
"What do you think?" Briers muttered to Falk. "Train? Fleet of cars? Horse-drawn omnibus?"
"I'm sure that young lady would be capable of just about anything," Falk said.
They hurried back to the house to find some of the pieces of baggage they had been able to retrieve on the edge of the road beside the Grand Hotel's charabanc in all its dusty glory. Pritchard was heaving the baggage around and, for the first time Briers could recall, he actually looked tired.
"Sir," he greeted Briers with a tense smile. "We will be leaving imminently. It appears that Miss Aston has resources denied to the average traveller."
"So I hear," Briers said. "Let us give you a hand?"
"That would be appreciated, sir."
"We'll fetch the rest of the bags," Falk said, and led Harry and Hayman inside.
Voices, some arguing, others just chatting, were audible from the house, but Miles came trotting down the stairs and out through the open front door. He gave Briers a sunny smile but his hands were in the pocket of his coat, his shoulders hunched up around his ears and he was standing far more like Miles than like Millie, despite the glorious length of silk clad calf he was flashing, so Briers knew something was up.
"Come here, gorgeous," Briers said and slung an arm around him. Miles giggled, rolling his head back as Briers swooped in for a kiss, but the hand that had slid into Briers's jacket gripped tight to the back of his waistcoat. He leaned into Briers's arms and murmured, "John Smethwick came back. He's having a bit of a disagreement with Diana inside."
"Is he now?" Briers scowled. "What did he say? Or has she suggested that he might have liked to do his job last night rather than finding his own way out and devil take the rest of us?"
"It wasn't like that," Miles said. "I think he had - I don't know - a sudden breakdown. You know - like shell-shock. The bangs and the fires. Maybe they brought back some memories. He looks devastated."
Briers still felt annoyed. He had his own nightmares, of course - he'd woken sweating from a vision of Bela stooping over Miles in the cellar more times than he cared to remember - but didn't let them interfere with his work. On the other hand he'd been told he was an insensitive bastard enough times to think that maybe the people with more imagination had it much worse. "Oh, well then. In that case I'm astonished he's in the job he's in but - "
"I'm astonished he could bear to get on a train," Pritchard murmured. "Not after Quintinshill."
The name was vaguely familiar to Briers but must have meant something to Miles because he went very still.
"What was that then?" Briers asked.
"May 1915?" Pritchard said. "I don't remember the exact details, but a sleeper train collided with a troop train packed with Royal Scots and the whole bloody lot caught fire. Smethwick got out, most of the troops didn't. Some of the soldiers shot themselves rather than burn. He told me about it one night when he'd been on the whisky."
"Oh." Miles's voice was very small. He was one of the imaginative ones, Briers thought, and needed distracting. Briers kissed him again, a soft press of lips against his hair, and tightened his arm.
"I was busy trying not to get gassed at Ypres at the time," he said. "But even we heard about that. Yes, I can understand why he did what he did. Why's he arguing with Diana?"
"As long as I've known him Smethwick has never travelled by train if there was any alternative." Pritchard glanced towards the house where the voices were still sharp. "He's either driven himself or, as soon as it was feasible, he flew. My guess is that he's devastated that he's let himself down so badly - he thinks - and is desperate to fly back to Bucharest and get on with his job. I think it would be best if we let him. He thinks a lot of the master and mistress, does Smethwick, would do anything for them, otherwise - "
"Otherwise he would never have come after us," Miles finished. "How bloody awful it must have been for him. Very well," Miles patted Briers back under his coat and straightened up, "I'm going to settle the argument."
"Don't say anything to him," Pritchard advised.
"I won't." Miles turned on his high heels and marched towards the door. Briers raised his eyebrows at Pritchard who grinned.
"Not that I have any doubts about our young person's abilities, but you'd best go after him to pick up the bits if something unfortunate happens."
"Good idea."
The combatants had the corner room upstairs to themselves, with Emily to referee. Briers caught up with Miles at the door and watched him bounce into the room, about as welcome, from Smethwick's sour expression, as an extra ball on a rugby pitch.
"Millie, dear," Emily began, but Miles spoke over her ruthlessly.
"Smethwick, I have a job for you," he snapped, his voice dropping to its usual register. "I need you to carry a message to my father, one that I don't want to go through usual channels and that I certainly don't want intercepted. Can you do that?" He didn't allow Smethwick to reply but added, "Allerdale and I will take it from here - unless, of course, you are so blinded by appearance that you think I won't be capable of looking after my own mother."
"I... There are people after you who are prepared to kill," Smethwick growled.
"And so are we," Miles put in. "Do you trust me or not?"
The room went very quiet. Diana looked as though she might speak, but Briers caught her eye.
"I trust you," Smethwick said, as though every word was coated in broken glass. "I'll take the message."
"Thank you," Miles said.
"If we can get to Budapest within the next couple of hours you should be able to get on the six o'clock plane," Briers suggested. "Then you can go and find out who murdered that lad you mistook for Miles."
Smethwick's lips were drawn into a thin line, but there was a loosening in his stance that suggested he was relieved. "I'll go," he growled. "Now we finally have this settled, I'll wait in the charabanc."
He stalked from the room but made a slight inclination of his head towards Miles as he passed - which was, for him, as good as a clap on the back.
"Well, well," Briers said, "Diana - you look so much better than when I saw you last. And Emily - in the pink I see."
Emily patted her rose-coloured suit and gave him a little curtsey. "We both are, thanks to you, Falk, poor Mr Utkin and Mr Lacroix - who I must remember to call Mr Cross. Are we almost ready to go? Miles, have you prepared the message to send to your father?"
"Um... "
"Miles! Did you lie to Mr Smethwick?"
"Only a little bit," Miles admitted in a stage whisper. "I'll write Pa a full report on the charabanc in our usual cipher, and no, we won't want that to fall into other hands. I just needed to make it sound really official and important. I just think Smethwick might be better on home ground."
Diana sighed. "You're right. John needs to be in control of what happens. This whole affair shook him up badly. We'll be having a lot more security drills."
"Oh no, not more time in the cellar." Emily fished in her handbag and took out a little notebook and pencil. "I must buy more knitting wool. Briers, what colours would you like?"
"Ma knits in Fair Isle," Miles said. "If she's offering to knit for you she must like you."
"Of course I like him. What colours, Briers?"
"Something extravagant and eye-catching," Briers said.
"Don't be silly, dear. If you can't be sensible you'll just have to put up with my choice, won't you?"
Briers chuckled and shooed them all down the stairs. "Anything but pink," he said tolerantly.
#
It was astonishing what one could achieve if pretty enough, rich enough and ruthless enough. All three, Ruby Aston organised getting out of Hungary with vicious efficiency, but only a small party took to the skies - selected, Briers was sure, for entertainment value. For instance, Ruby had offered a place to Cynthia ffoulkes-Collinson and her swain, but Hayman had spoken up.
"We're going back to the hotel to face the music," he said. "Maybe they'll believe it was a misunderstanding? Maybe they'll make us wash dishes for a few days?"
"Good for you," Briers said. "I'm a bit hazy why you felt a midnight flit was necessary in the first place; if you really were hard up, you could always have pawned something."
"Pawn my diamonds?" Cynthia stared at him, aghast. "Over my dead body. It's all Emily's fault she made everything sound so exciting! I just wanted a bit of excitement too."
"I didn't." Hayman glanced at Briers. "You must think I'm so feeble."
"You weren't last night," Briers said. "You worked like a dray horse getting those poor souls out before the fires really took hold and, for what it's worth, you have my respect."
Hayman flushed. "It's worth a lot. And so was our hotel stay, so we're going to be responsible and pay them - aren't we, Cynthia?"
"If we must be totally boring about it... " Cynthia rolled her eyes, but when she looked at Hayman Briers thought he detected a little less complacency in her gaze.
Briers had expected Jonah Rudd to be one of their number, but Ruby had sent him about his business and cut him dead whenever he approached her.
"I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't so oily," Briers admitted to Miles as they stood on the tarmac waiting for the aeroplane that Ruby had, astonishingly, managed to commission.
Miles, who was exhibiting all the more self-reliant traits of Millie, set his jaw and said, "You wouldn't if you'd heard what he said to me as we were getting off the charabanc. I nearly crowned him - but I put my heel on his instep instead."
"Mmm," Briers grabbed him and gave him a squeeze and knocked his hat askew, "I find that incredibly arousing."
"Brian! You are awful!" Miles yelped, fending him off, but Briers thought he looked pleased.
The plane was the best that could be obtained in such a short time, and seemed to be a dual-purpose affair used for transporting lightweight freight as well as a few passengers. Ruby and Janice, Emily and Diana sat in four of the available forward-facing seats, and Miles insisted that Pritchard and Harry take the others. Falk, Briers and Miles set up a poker-school in what would normally have been the baggage compartment, and were comfortable enough sitting on the small amount of luggage they had been able to bring. It wasn't particularly well lit in there, the sound of the engines was loud and they had been provided with plenty of blankets against the cold. Miles seemed a little on edge and nestled into Briers's side. If Falk hadn't been there Briers could think of several things they might do to pass the time ... but maybe he might fall asleep and then ...
"Ante up," Miles said, tossing a penny into the pot, and Briers kicked himself for letting his attention wander when Falk had been dealing.
"I deserve to lose," he thought, and wasn't surprised when he did.
The evening extended into night. As flights went Briers supposed it was a quick one, but they still had two stops to refuel and once for a few hours to allow the pilots some rest and to get a meal. The food at the guest house wasn't good, but Briers was hungry enough to eat warmed up frikadellen and at least the beds were aired. Without Smethwick sticking his oar in there had been no nonsense about who would share with whom. Briers lay down back-to-back with Pritchard, and spared a moment to wonder how Miles was doing in the other room with the ladies before he closed his eyes.
At first light they took off again and, as the sun rose, the choppy grey waters of the Channel appeared under their wings.
"Home," Briers said to Miles, who was dozing against his shoulder. "We'll be in London in time for elevenses."
"And our own bed tonight," Miles whispered and settled his head more firmly against Briers's jacket. "Wake me up when we're about to land."
It was one of the nicer September mornings. Warm sunshine and a fresh breeze didn't interfere with their landing at the aerodrome at Croydon. The plane taxied across to the private hangers and there they disembarked, almost all looking a bit crumpled and the worse for wear. Harry alone looked well-groomed, but then Briers knew what it was like to have one good suit and no idea when one would be able to get it sponged and pressed. There were ways and means. Two cars were waiting, one a Rolls-Royce, huge and gleaming, the other a nondescript older model of Daimler, but Briers bet the Daimler's engine was the more powerful of the two. The drivers matched their vehicles, but both went to unload the baggage with equal speed while their passengers dealt with the sleepy-looking officials.
"I am going to have the longest bath," Ruby said, "a very dry Martini and the best lobster money can buy. Just as soon as I reach the... where are we staying, darling?"
Janice smiled at her and opened her notebook. "We were supposed to be booking into the Ritz, but not until next week. I don't think we'll be able to get a suite before then."
"It's just the two of us now. We don't need a suite." Ruby took Janice's hand. "Can I offer anyone a lift? I don't think you'll all fit in that old Daimler."
"How about it, Harry?" Falk asked.
"If you can just drop me at the first Tube station," Harry suggested, "I can find my own way from there."
Falk made an amused sound. "Let's ride in style as far as the Ritz anyway. Then I'll see you home and look for lodgings for myself." He paused and spoke very quietly. "You don't have to be alone unless you want to be."
"Please do come, Harry," Ruby said. "And you must let us have your address. And you," she gestured to Briers and the Siwards. "Come to supper. If we're all in the same city it would be a pity to lose track."
"Wilton Crescent," Emily said. "Number 22. I think we'll stay a few weeks, won't we, Diana?"
"I'd appreciate a chance to heal up before we go back to Bucharest," Diana said. "And do some shopping for Christmas while I have the chance."
"Oh yes, that's a date then. And you, Mr and Mrs Carstairs?"
"I don't know how long I'll be here, to be honest," Briers replied.
"We'll be in touch," Miles smiled. "I should be back in work - oh good grief, it's Monday! I should have been at my desk half an hour ago."
"And wouldn't that frock cause a stir?" Briers chuckled. "I think customs is done with our baggage so perhaps... "
"Yes, goodbye then, Miss Aston, Miss Oldbury." Emily exchanged hugs and air-kisses with them and so did Briers, while Miles gave Harry a gentle hug and shook hands with Falk. Falk said something Briers couldn't catch that brought blood flooding to Miles's cheeks, and Miles replied. Briers didn't hear that either, but Falk drew back and shot Briers a glance made up of guilt and amusement in equal measures.
"I'll be in touch as well," Falk said to Briers a moment later. "If you or your boy need to find me, use the drop box at the Bermondsey Baths. Conrad Bauer on the envelope and the stamp corner creased."
"I remember," Briers said.
"So do I." Falk leered. "Ah, it was good while it lasted. Now you are boringly monogamous and hardly worth my effort. Good luck."
They watched the glossy Rolls-Royce purr away across the grass.
"Sir." Briers turned to see the other driver. His brown was suit rumpled with a suggestive bulge in his left armpit, and he was talking to Miles. "Ayres, sir, on secondment from the resources section." He gave them a friendly nod. "I've orders to take you straight to Broadway House, sir, but Mr Throckmorton thought Mr Siward might appreciate a change of clothing. I've left a case in the hangar."
"That's very decent of you," Miles said. "Ma, Diana, I'll be five minutes. Briers, can you come and help?"
"Sure, I'll check that your seams are straight," Briers said and followed Miles into the hangar. Four minutes later, Briers was filling the case with Millie's pretty things and Miles Siward, cipher clerk and linguistics expert, was back, his high-buttoned collar, pinstriped suit, sober tie and shiny black shoes the picture of respectability. Miles ran a brilliantined comb through his hair, sweeping the soft golden wings back from his cheeks. He had already removed the last traces of subtle makeup from his face, though his eyelashes would be darker than usual until he could have a proper wash.
Miles gave a deep sigh. "How do I look?"
"Like Miles Siward," Briers said. "My Miles, sensible and clever and brave and - "
"I love you so much." The words burst from Miles lips and next moment he was swarming up Briers like a monkey climbs a tree. Briers took his weight, hands under his delectable little arse, and kissed him back.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Miles gasped between kisses. "I couldn't wait until we get home. Oh, but later - "
"Later," Briers agreed. "The sooner we get your mother to Naylor the better."
"Then we can get her settled at home and then - oh then Briers... " Miles's smile was blinding. "I want to see if I can make you scream too."
"I'm far too manly to scream," Briers protested as he let Miles down to the ground. "But you are more than welcome to try."
They fastened Millie's suitcase, and Briers picked it up. Miles fiddled with his Browning as they left the hangar, trying to decide where best to store it.
"It makes my pockets bag so badly," he explained. "And despite the safety features one doesn't quite like to trust it in one's waistband."
Briers looked down at the sleek weapon, looking very large in Miles's small hands. "You need a proper shoulder holster, and an introduction to my tailor," Briers said.
Miles's hands stilled and the colour drained from his face.
"Drop it!" Ayres' voice had no trace of affability. He had a tight grip on Emily's arm and was holding a gun to her head. Briers and Miles both raised their hands. Diana stood a few paces away, white-faced, her left hand supporting her right, and Pritchard stood by the car, glaring daggers at Ayres.
"Allerdale, hands high, or I'll shoot the old lady." Ayres glared at them both. "Siward, I said 'drop it'!"
"I can't. I can't drop it," Miles babbled, holding the gun away from his body as though it might explode. "The safety is unreliable. Last time I - "
"Then pop out the magazine, you bloody little queer. Allerdale, left hand, take your gun out of the holster and let it fall. I assume yours is better maintained."
Briers shrugged and complied. "Desk workers," he said. "Don't know where we'd be without them. So, what's the plan then?"
Ayres snorted and gestured with his own gun barrel. "I'm taking the car, the old man is going to drive, and the old lady will be in the back with me. If he co-operates, and she tells me what I need to hear, I may let him go later."
"And what about us?" Briers asked, more to give Miles time than out of any real interest. The magazine freed and fell to the wet grass and Ayres relaxed, gesturing for them to move towards Diana.
"The lady won't need her maid where she's going," Ayres said. "The three of you can go into the hangar and stay there until we've gone."
"And where will we be able to find our people?"
Ayres scowled. "Stop asking questions and get in the hangar."
"Oh please," Emily said, her tone filled with the utter exasperation of a lady who had endured an uncomfortable journey and just wanted to put her feet up in her own home with a decent cup of tea.
"Absolutely, ma'am," Diana said. She shot Ayres left-handed, very neatly, in the kneecap, with the gun she'd had hidden in her sling. Ayres screamed and began to go down. Pritchard swiped Ayres's gun-barrel, angling it towards the runway but Ayres gave a shriek of fury and swung the gun back again directly towards Emily. Miles's bullet hit Ayres squarely in the knot of his tie. Ayres fell and choked and went still.
"And serve you right," Pritchard said. "Twll tin."
"Pritchard!"
"My apologies, Lady Siward, that was uncalled for. Nice shooting, Mr Siward."
"One up the spout," Miles said, his voice just a little strangled. "These Browning 1922s really are the cat's pyjamas!"
#
They may have been supposed to go directly to Broadway House, but first they had to deal with the aerodrome authorities - who were appalled at such carnage on their premises - and with the police, who were equally startled, and finally with the driver and co-driver who had actually been sent to pick them up by Naylor.
"Ayres was a mechanic, sir," they said to Briers. "Not long in the motor pool. He must have overheard something and decided he could turn it into money."
Miles, still white-faced although the tension around his mouth suggested fury rather than fright, stood to one side with Emily and Diana and didn't even speak up when Naylor's messenger boys congratulated Briers on his accurate shooting. When Briers confessed that Diana and Miles had been the sharpshooters he just accepted the apologies with a nod. There would be, Briers predicted, hell to pay later.
"Right," the more senior of the drivers said. "My friend here will stay to deal with this situation, but I think we've kept Sir James waiting long enough. If you would like to get in the car, sirs, my Lady?"
"It's barely nine o'clock," Miles said, his arm tight around his mother, "and Sir James is rarely in before ten. I think we can afford to make a few necessary calls first."
First they deposited Diana in Harley Street to get her broken arm checked, then detoured along Castle Lane to drop Pritchard off at Miles's flat.
"If you don't mind, sir," he said. "I'll catch a few hours' sleep before preparing for dinner."
"Take all the time you want, Pritchard," Miles said. "In fact take the night off. We can fend for ourselves and," he dropped his voice a little, "I'm sure Ron will appreciate having you home."
Pritchard smiled. "That he will sir, thank you." He nodded to Briers and Emily then began to plod up the stairs into the building.
"Pritchard deserves a bonus," Miles said as the car pulled away, "and a medal, and probably a month off. I wonder if he and Ron would like a trip to Frinton; the weather is very nice for September."
"Ask him tomorrow," Briers murmured.
Broadway House was a five minute walk from Miles's flat, but more like fifteen by car on a busy Monday morning when the dust-carts were doing their rounds. The driver dropped them at the door with an offer to wait but Emily said they had no idea how long they would be and that they would take a cab.
This was Briers's first visit to SIS HQ since, a little under three years previously, he had walked in and been introduced to a diminutive cipher clerk who had seemed like a liability but was now the best and most reliable thing in his rather choppy life. Briers felt like a carrier pigeon navigating stormy skies on its way back to the safety of its loft - and grinned as he wondered what Miles would say when he repeated the analogy.
They entered through the main door, under the sign advertising fire extinguishers that Briers though was a nice conceit, and traipsed across the tiled floor to the desk.
"Bit late, aren't you Siward?" The man on the desk looked them all over, then stood up to greet Emily. "Good morning, madame. How may we help you?"
"Lady Siward, Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale. We are here to see... Miles?"
"Mr Naylor," Miles said, his voice meek. "He is expecting us."
"Sir James Lorimer is expecting you," the desk clerk said with a quelling look at Miles. "I will call up and see when he will be available. You may wait over there."
But they barely had time to look for the chairs before they were called back and sent upstairs.
"It's up to the second floor and - "
"I know the way, thank you," Miles said and offered his mother his arm.
Naylor met them in the corridor, looking like an affable but unimportant clerk rather than a man with his finger on the throbbing pulse of the intelligence community. "Good grief, Siward," he said. "What time do you call this? I was expecting you last Thursday."
"I'm sorry, sir, we were a little held up. I don't know if anyone has thought to inform you, but we were attacked again shortly after landing in Croydon."
"Croydon." Naylor shook his head. "I need to debrief you all thoroughly, I see. Good day, Lady Siward, Allerdale. You've been on quite an adventure. Come along inside. Sir James is waiting."
Sir James looked exactly like a steely-nerved professional, with his lined face, silver-grey hair and cool blue eyes. He greeted Emily with a warm handshake, escorted her to a chair and seated her personally.
"Sit down gentlemen," he said, which evidently didn't apply to Naylor who moved into position behind Sir James's shoulder ready to take notes. "I hope your journey was a pleasant one,” he said. “I must admit I do envy you your trip on the Orient Express. Their breakfasts are quite wonderful."
"Unfortunately we had no chance to take breakfast," Emily said. "Because shortly after leaving Budapest the train was blown up and fell off a viaduct."
"Oh good grief, you were involved with that?" Sir James's voice cracked with shock. "Dear lady, what an appalling thing to have happened. I trust you were not too badly shaken by it?"
"As you may have noticed," Emily gestured towards her face, "I managed to clash heads with my son. But the maid who was travelling with me broke her arm, poor dear, so we stopped off to make sure she had a checkup."
"Good, good. Siward, Allerdale, I'll expect a full report from each of you. Speaking of which," Sir James linked his fingers and leaned forward an his desk, "I believe you have a report to make as well, Lady Siward?"
"I do," Emily said, her voice quiet but resolute.
"Then perhaps your son and Mr Allerdale can make a start on their paperwork - in your office, perhaps, Naylor - while we chat?"
Ushered out and provided with a pencil and foolscap each, Miles and Briers sat on the bentwood chairs and looked sidelong at each other.
"We have to stop meeting like this," they both said and dissolved into giggles.
"No, honestly Briers we must be sensible," Miles cackled again. "Naylor could be back at any moment."
"Giggling would be the least of his worries," Briers said. "Why is it that when I see you in your work gear I have this overwhelming urge to make you hot and sweaty and debauched?"
"I honestly believe that if Naylor walked in on us in flagrante over his desk, he'd take it in his stride," Miles said. He balanced the pad on his knee and began to write.
"Then sack the pair of us," Briers said. He sighed and leaned back in the chair then gave in and let himself touch Miles. Just a hand on the shoulder, his thumb stroking the short soft hair at the back of Miles's neck. "I wonder how much longer she'll be? Von Stroebel can't have told her that much."
"I suppose it's more of a case of what he said, rather than how long he took to say it," Miles mused. "But Mum won't spin it out. She can yarn with the best of them, but if it's important she can get her meaning across in just a few words."
"I noticed," Briers said, thinking of that moment in the hotel when Emily had asked him his intentions towards Miles. "She has a way with words, your ma."
Miles smiled, a little soft thing so different from Millie's broad grin. "I'm so glad you get on well together. Honestly, Briers, I was immensely relieved when she offered to knit for you. That's a real labour of love and not offered to just anyone. She'll probably make you a Fair Isle waistcoat with those woven leather buttons and a nice pocket for your pipe."
"Shades of cream, brown and green to match my tweeds then," Briers said. "Are they good?"
"Yes," Miles said. "Very good, which is a relief because it would be unkind not to wear them - and also she loathes knitting."
Briers stared at him. "So why does she do it?"
"Because it's an acceptable pastime for a lady that produces gifts she can give to the men in her life. She much prefers lace-making, but neither Pa nor George - nor you, I suppose - would like a couple of yards of guipure to stitch around the legs of your smalls."
Briers imagined it and dissolved into laughter again.
They were still chuckling when Naylor opened the door and gave them both a stare. "Gentlemen!"
They had time to make it to their feet before Sir James entered, with Emily on his arm.
"Mr Siward," he said, "at your mother's request I am giving you a few days to recover from your ordeal. Soldiering on is all very well, but with damaged ribs and a head injury I would prefer you take the time to be thoroughly examined by your doctor. Allerdale, now you're here, you may as well make yourself useful. Find yourself a place to stay and I'd like you in the office on Monday morning. MacGregor has some surveillance photographs for you to look through."
"Very well sir. Er - can we go now?"
Sir James and Naylor exchanged a long considering glance. "I see no reason why not. But I will expect those reports forthwith."
"Forthwith, sir." Miles nodded. "Thank you, Sir James, sir." He nodded to Naylor and offered his mother his arm again.
Briers followed them out, and wasn't surprised when Naylor caught them up at the top of the stairs.
"Hold it," he said. "Reports are a priority, no forthwith about it. I want everything that happened in Bucharest, everything from Budapest and, dear God, everything to do with Croydon. Croydon, for goodness sake! See the doctor first, Siward - you're walking like you have a coat stand up the back of your jacket - then straight to it. I expect both reports on my desk on Wednesday morning. Allerdale, can I assume you'll be lodging with Siward again? Good. Expect a stay of a month or so."
"Any chance of spinning it out until Christmas, sir?"
"Don't push your luck. I'll set it up with Pennington. Lady Siward, thank you for all you have done. I don't think we managed to express how very useful and vital your information may be."
"It was my pleasure, Mr Naylor." Emily smiled. "And a great weight off my mind now I have passed the word on to your office. Can I assume that now I won't be viewed as a threat?"
"Dear lady you should never have been attacked in the first place," Naylor said. He pointed at Miles, then Briers, and said, "Wednesday," then hurried back to his office.
"Damn and blast it," Briers groaned as they made their way down the stairs. "I was looking forward to an easy couple of days, not writing blinking essays."
"We don't have to go into much detail," Miles said. "We can use words of one syllable, just capital letters for towns."
"But," Emily stared at him, "how will that work when you're talking about Bucharest, Belgrade and Budapest?"
"I'm not convinced Sir James knows the difference," Miles murmured as they emerged on the pavement outside.
"Doesn't know his Arras from his Elba?" Briers added.
"Oh! That was very naughty," Emily said. "The pair of you belong in infants' school. And I am sure Sir James knows everything Mr Naylor allows him to know. Miles, dear, you really are walking very stiffly. Shall we take you to Harley Street now?"
"I'm fine, Ma," Miles protested. "You know very well all they'll do is recommend a course of steam baths and strapping. I'll take a boiling kettle into my bathroom, and Briers is a dab hand at bandaging."
"I am." Briers grinned at them both. "Emily, we're at your disposal. Where shall we go next?"
"Oh, grand," Emily beamed at them both. "I'm ferociously hungry and I've heard really good things about that new hotel, the Dorchester. I've been dying to try it."
Briers, too, had heard of the Dorchester. Apparently it was already high on the list of places to dine on expenses when meeting contacts for the lucky sods who were stationed at home. He had no problem at all with gently coercing Miles to buy him lunch there, expecting to make it up to him in other ways as and when convenient.
"Besides," he muttered as they waited for Emily to get comfortable in the cab, "I thought you were dead for two whole hours and you haven't nearly made up for it yet."
"I'll buy you a really nice lunch," Miles promised. "Though Ma and I might have to pool resources since we haven't had a chance to go to the bank and my cheque book is somewhere between here and Budapest."
They broke the news to Emily who rolled her eyes. "I have my cheque book," she said. "And if I'm paying I get to choose where we eat."
The Dorchester was everything rumour had promised it to be. Briers had no complaints at all as they took their seats on a pleasantly airy terrace and perused the lavish menu.
"What do you think, Miles," Emily asked. "A light lunch now and a proper meal later?"
"Well, since I've given Pritchard the night off," Miles said, "I think I'll tank up now and tonight have cheese on toast and an early night."
Briers had no complaints about that plan either. He ordered soup, fish and lamb then sat back to enjoy the sights and the company while Miles and Emily, seated shoulder to shoulder, chatted about the facilities and speculated on the quality of the wine cellar. He felt warm and happy and almost relaxed - but for one important thing which was niggling away in the back of his mind.
He managed to keep his curiosity banked down to a mere glow until the waiters had served their pudding and he was sampling a very nice plum crumble. Miles mentioned Naylor's fondness for crumble, and it flared up again.
"You know, Emily," he began, "I don't really like to ask - not if you've been sworn to secrecy or anything - but are you really not going to tell us what you told Naylor and Sir James?"
Emily gave a little giggle and poked Miles in the chest. "I told you so."
Miles felt in his pocket and handed over a sixpence. "I thought you'd hold out and ask her over coffee," he said. "And yes, before you ask - I'm dying to know, too. Go on, Ma, what did you tell them."
"Well," Emily affected coyness for a moment, then leaned forward on the table and beckoned. Once they had leaned in close enough to hear her whisper she said, "Von Stroebel was an engineer as well as a numbers man, and he told me some really interesting things about a cipher machine he had been working on. Oh Miles, I was dying to ask really pertinent questions but I could see he was only talking to me because he thought I didn't understand. So I played a bit dumb and he actually drew it for me, on a napkin of all things, which was terribly rude of him but 'waste not, want not' so I took it with me when we left and handed it over to Naylor with my compliments."
"He drew plans?" Miles asked.
"Of a top secret encryption machine?" Briers added.
“On a napkin which you stole from the Cotroceni Palace?”
"Yes, astonishing, isn't it? To simplify things for you, Briers - "
"Thank you, Emily."
"You're welcome. It has electronically powered numbered dials, advancing at a re-settable rate with a five dial operation that gives millions of variables unless you know to which number the dials were set to start with and what advance had been programmed. Clever, eh?"
Miles's and Briers's eyes met.
"Very clever and - er - potentially worrying," Miles said. "What a good job you managed to keep the napkin."
"So that was the secret," Briers said. "Good grief, Emily."
Emily bit her lips together and dissolved into giggles. "Oh stop it, you two. As if we don't all know that the French have had a copy of those plans for at least six months."
"And offered to share it with us," Miles murmured with an apologetic glance at Briers, "and were turned down because some oaf further up the hierarchy said 'we can do our own intelligence gathering, thank you very much'. Those French agents must have been livid."
"I would have been," Briers agreed. He grinned at Emily. "So there was no real secret and half the intelligence operatives in the Balkans have been on high alert for the past week for nothing."
"I wouldn't say that," Emily leaned in a little further. "That's only what I actually told them. Von Stroebel passed on another message, one that I didn't tell your bosses."
"What?" Miles and Briers both said the same word, Miles in tones of horror while Briers's curiosity was flaming again.
"What was it?" Briers asked.
"I didn't want to pass it on until I'd had a chance to see for myself who he was referring to. Miles, the message was for you. He said to watch out because he'd got wind of someone that isn't to be trusted - the iron man, sharp as a tack, he said. He'd drunk quite a lot by then and was rambling a bit and kept going back and forth between English and German, but that was very clear."
Miles face lost all colour. "Oh dear God, surely not Naylor?"
"Sharp as a tack. A tack is a nail, isn't it?" Briers said.
"Yes," Emily said.
"I can't believe it." Miles looked more distressed than at any point so far in their adventure and Briers honestly couldn't blame him. "Naylor - he - he could bring down the Government with what he knows."
"But don't you remember those encyclopedias we had when you were small, Miles? With the name definitions. What does Lorimer mean?"
The worst thing about it - and Briers found no difficulty in setting aside the fear that there was a traitor so high in the SIS - was the hurt expression on Miles's face. "Wasn't that an iron worker too?" Briers asked. "Something to do with horses - spurs? Was that it? Spurs are sharp too. We'll have to look it up. Dear Lord that's a turn up for the books."
"I can't... " Miles looked from Emily to Briers. "I don't want to believe it. It must be a lie. Suspicion of two men at that level in our hierarchy would be bound to de-stabilise operations. I can only think we're being misled, maybe to kick off an internal investigation."
"Or to discredit you?" Briers suggested. "Accusing your superiors of treason would be bound to put a dent in your career prospects."
"I don't care about that!"
"And I imagine they know that. Emily, did Von Stroebel say something else? Anything else?" Briers asked.
"He said he was homesick," Emily said, "and something about looking forward to getting something from home. Papers, that was it."
That phrase, indicating that Von Stroebel was one of Naylor's many contacts, was one that Briers hadn't wanted to hear - and neither had Miles, from the horrified look on his face.
"The poor man must have been distraught," Miles murmured. "Imagine being in that position, then discovering the man you report to isn't to be trusted."
"We don't know that yet," Briers pointed out.
"He did say something else," Emily said. "Just before he left, he said, 'Remember, you must tell him to look out for Schmitt'. Which I assume is a name."
"Schmitt - Smith," Miles muttered. "Another iron man. Oh! Favre. Jan Favre?"
"That translates as Smith all right," Briers said and reached across the table to give Miles a gentle punch in the shoulder. "You know he might have just been trying to warn us that Jan Favre, aka Falk, was planning to defect?"
"And not to trust him - but we knew that already." Miles let out a long breath and beamed. "That's something that's much easier to live with on a day-to-day basis."
"And the other possibility is a nice little puzzle for you to look into over the winter," Emily said, "if you get bored."
Miles and Emily smiled at each other and Briers sat back with a huff of amusement. "Look at the pair of you," he said. "Like peas in a pod."
Miles snorted and Briers felt a gentle kick to his shin. He supposed that the last thing a man would want to hear is just how much like his mother he was, but Miles had the same blue eyes and small slightly tip-tilted nose, and very much the same manner. But, when one got down to brass tacks - hah, tacks - there was one most important difference. Miles held Briers's heart securely in those small precise hands, and Briers wouldn't want it any other way.
However, one couldn't let the little rat, lovely though he was, get away with anything so Briers extended his foot, feeling for Miles's shoe, then ran his toe up the ankle in a sign he knew Miles would recognise that meant 'we will discuss this later, alone'.
Miles didn't so much as twitch. Emily, on the other hand, raised her eyebrows.
Oops.
"I say, did I kick you? I'm so sorry, Emily." Briers gestured towards Miles. "Someone who shall be nameless assaulted my shin and I was trying to retaliate."
"Infants school?" Emily shook her head. "The pair of you belong in nursery."
END
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