80 
Missing Clue

Antwerp was not high on the list of places Hartwell Barclay would have desired to visit.

Especially tonight. It was miserably cold and a light rain had begun to fall. A storm appeared likely, and he did not relish what lay ahead—an underwater channel crossing beneath a turbulent sea.

He pulled his coat up tightly around his neck, walked across the street from the hotel, and lit a cigarette as best he could in this drizzle. They ought to have thought of some better signal.

Behind him a black stooped figure exited the same hotel he had just left.

An impulse caused Barclay to glance back.

What was that old woman there about? It couldn’t . . .

But it looked uncannily like the old hag he had seen in the train a day and a half ago. Come to think of it, he had seen a remarkably similar woman even before that . . . all the way back in Paris. It couldn’t possibly be the same woman, although . . .

As he looked, the striking similarity seemed more and more than could be accounted for by mere coincidence. What in blazes could she be doing in a first-class hotel like this!

The sound of an automobile approaching interrupted his thoughts. He spun around. He had apparently been seen. There was no more use for the cigarette. He threw it into the street. The auto slowed and stopped in front of him. The back door opened. He got in, and the car sped off.

“I take it you are Barclay,” said a figure out of the blackness.

He nodded.

“I am Wolfrik. Are the arrangements made?”

“We will depart within the hour. Tell the driver to take us to the south harbor.”

The remainder of the twenty-minute ride was silent. When the car stopped again, Barclay got out, followed by the man called Wolfrik, then another. Barclay glanced warily at the silent man, who was apparently accompanying the Prussian, short of stature and slightly balding. He did not look physically imposing, but the glint in his eye was menacing.

“I was told to arrange transport for one other than myself,” said Barclay.

“He is with me,” replied Wolfrik. “One extra man will change nothing. It would not be advisable to leave him behind.”

Barclay took in the words with silent annoyance. He did not like being left out of a change of plans like this, but judged it better to say nothing further.

They walked toward the docks in silence. The rain had by now begun to come down in earnest. There was no wind, however, and in the quietness of the night their voices carried farther and with greater clarity than they might have expected had they paused to consider the possibility that someone might be listening. The engine of another automobile sounded somewhere a block or two away, but they paid little attention, nor to the footsteps coming their way in the shadows a few moments later from the same direction.

“Has Colonel Spengler been apprehended?” asked Barclay at length.

“Not yet,” replied Wolfrik, “but the trap is set. It is vital we get across the Channel ahead of the Dauntless.”

Barclay stopped and glanced about. They were at the edge of the quay. He had to get his bearings briefly to see which pier was the one he had been told. A few silent ships were about and hundreds of fishing vessels were moored nearby, but this was not the main section of the Antwerp harbor where most larger oceangoing vessels and naval ships docked. It was nearly entirely deserted at this time of night.

Confident of the direction again, Barclay led the way, moving along to the sound of the water slapping against shoreline, hulls of boats, and quay.

“A U-boat is waiting to take us to England,” he said as they walked across the quay toward the pier. “We will arrive at Hawsker Head.”

“I may need to go to London to carry out the remainder of our assignment,” added the Prussian. “I have been told you have contacts that will enable us to move freely.”

“It can be arranged,” rejoined Barclay. “But why London? I thought you only needed to retrieve Spengler.”

“There is one other matter involved. That is why my friend here is along.”

“What kind of matter?”

“It is top secret. Can your people get him to London?”

“The Fountain has friends,” said Barclay, liking the direction of this mission less and less. “Our network can take you anywhere in England with relative anonymity.”

He certainly had no intention of taking them there himself, thought Barclay silently. London was the last place he was about to show his face!

They walked out across the planked decking toward the waiting vessel, which had put in only two hours before for the express purpose of this clandestine rendezvous. Behind them they still saw nothing. But they were not alone.

Minutes later they stepped onto the deck of the sub. Barclay took once final glance back.

There was that old woman again, standing halfway out on the quay! Just standing there staring at him! Had she followed them all the way from the hotel? What was the old crone’s game?

His eyes narrowed. But he could do nothing. Already a German officer was shoving him along to the hatch and pushing him down into the bowels of the undersea craft.

On the pier, Amanda waited until he had disappeared, then turned and hurried away. It was time to retrace her steps and get out of this city. She had finally heard the missing clue she had followed Barclay to learn. They were on their way to someplace called Hawsker Head, with some other secret matter to follow involving London.

She wouldn’t even go back to the hotel. She had told the cabdriver to wait out of sight. She would go straight from here to the station and make for the coast of France by whatever route would get her there.

Hawsker Head . . . she had never heard the words in her life. And what was the Dauntless?

Whatever it was all about, one thing was clear—this part of her work was done. She had to get to London as fast as she could. It was time to get the information to England.

From here, maybe she might be able to go to Calais and cross from there. It would be much faster than going all the way back to Paris and then to Cherbourg.

What about the things she had left at the hotel in Paris?

She couldn’t worry about that now. She would contact the hotel later.

They needed this information in England and fast. If a trap was set, it meant someone was in danger.

There wasn’t a moment to spare.