CHAPTER 19

Power Politics

‘WELL,’ said Loftus, ‘what are you going to do?’

‘I haven’t decided,’ said Craigie.

They were in a morning-room at Rostrum. Croom had just brought tea into them. Upstairs, Carr, George and a doctor were with Gertrude Ryall, who had not recovered consciousness.

‘You’re waiting to hear what happens to the woman, I suppose,’ said Loftus. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ said Craigie. He pushed his fingers through his hair, and added slowly: ‘It’s brilliantly done, Bill. Noel had little time to prepare the story, but it’s almost water-tight.’

‘It is water-tight,’ said Loftus.

‘No, there are some holes,’ corrected Craigie. ‘Young Noel came here, entered the study—we have the butler’s word for that—and was there for ten minutes. Hole Number One— it doesn’t square up with Noel’s statement that he would not give his nephew any time to talk. Young Noel doubtless told him what had happened in the talk. Noel made sure that in the car was enough of the explosive to blow the car and his nephew to smithereens. The possibility that the explosion would happen in a built-up area did not worry him. Then he gave Gertrude a drink. We met the butler coming out with the glasses. Noel was afraid that she would crack. In the drink was the poison which has worked now, and I shall be surprised if she recovers. The glasses have been washed up, there’s little chance of finding the proof that he poisoned her. Oh, we might,’ he added, ‘but——’

There was a tap at the door.

‘Room for a little one?’ asked George, and he sidled into the room. His eyes widened at the sight of the tea-tray. ‘That’s not friendly,’ he said. ‘Sneaking off for a quick one while I’m doing the heavy work. Er—here’s a present for you.’

He held out a small glass phial, containing several tablets, greyish brown in colour.

‘Where did you get them?’ asked Craigie, looking at them intently. ‘There’s another cup—help yourself.’

‘Thanks. The lady’s bag,’ said George. ‘Sinister-looking things, aren’t they? The doctor says that she died from irritant poisoning.’

‘Died?’ ejaculated Loftus.

‘Yes,’ said George, briefly. ‘I was there. Nice chap, Noel. His nephew and his lady love could have given him away, and he didn’t trust either. So he made Tom into a double-crosser and killed him, and he made Gertrude commit ‘suicide’. Those tablets will be the poison tablets—care to bet?’

‘No,’ said Loftus.

‘Wise man,’ said George. ‘Well, there it is. Er—I hesitate to make suggestions Guv’nor, but it might be a good idea to make Noel cough up the formula for this explosive.’

‘Yes,’ said Craigie.

‘It will not be so easy,’ said Loftus.

‘Oh, we’ll get it from him,’ said Craigie. ‘I think we shall find that he will turn right round, now, and pretend to be as helpful as he can. The danger for him has receded. So far as we know, there’s only Rutter left, and Rutter might have slipped away.’

‘The place was closely watched,’ said George.

‘We don’t know for certain that Rutter has even been here,’ said Craigie. ‘From what we’ve heard from the servants, he hasn’t been seen.’

‘No,’ said George. ‘Deep in the doldrums, aren’t we? Won’t any of the beggars we’ve captured talk?’

‘We’ll try them again,’ said Loftus, grimly.

‘That’s more like it! Er—Noel is throwing a fit of grief. Near to tears, you know the kind of thing. Distraught. Betrayed by his nephew, walked out on, in a manner of speaking, by his lady, he really doesn’t know what to do next. Can I ask a question?’

‘Go on,’ said Craigie.

‘Thanks. This is it: weren’t you a bit too heavy-handed with Noel? I mean, can he kick up a stink?’

‘Yes,’ said Craigie, ‘but that needn’t worry us much.’

‘A few questions in the House, I suppose,’ said George. ‘I was thinking, he has probably a lot of supporters at Westminster, millionaires do have, don’t they? And—sorry about this, Guv’nor, but you know what it is. Old brain simmering, I can’t let the steam off without an audience. We’re rather sweating on trouble from the American Press, aren’t we?’

‘Yes,’ said Craigie, thoughtfully. ‘Go on.’

‘English papers, please copy,’ murmured George. ‘They will. Great outcry. England playing at power politics, trying to develop new weapons, bang goes Atlantic Charter and unity of United Nations. Same like you said. Nasty for Mattley and company, and then—out pops Noel’s best parliamentary boy-friend from his burrow. Government using an unnecessarily high hand. Grave fear that the Government is showing distinct Fascist tendencies. Will power-drunk Prime Minister ever be stopped? Freedom and the rights of man, democracy——’ He paused again. ‘Need I go on?’

‘No,’ said Craigie. He was smiling faintly. ‘Thanks, George. You’ve helped me to make up my mind.’

‘No detention,’ murmured George. ‘Er—I know I’m talking out of place and all that kind of thing, but Noel will almost certainly give an interview to the Press. He will say what his Parliamentary friend would like to say. I mean, we are in a bit of a spot, aren’t we?’

Loftus laughed.

‘Very funny,’ said George. ‘Only I can’t see the joke.’

Craigie said: ‘We have gone fairly close to the wind before, George.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said George, ‘but you can’t pull the wool over my pretty eyes. No, sir. You’re worried. So you should be. If this thing really blows to gale strength, then the Mattley administration is a thing of the past. What will the Department do then, poor thing? Clean sweep. Disbanded. There’ll be much strong feeling, you know. In my quiet way,’ added George, with a bright smile, ‘I am a student of politics. I don’t share some people’s distrust of the Mattley administration, but this will be a prize packet for those who do.’

‘You’re not far wrong,’ said Craigie.

Half an hour afterwards he left Rostrum, and the police were withdrawn from the house. Department agents who had come down from London, including the Errols, watched it by day and by night, but nothing happened for two days. Then Noel summoned to his home the representatives of the national daily papers, promising them a story of unusual importance.

The story was published next morning, with front page headlines and, in some cases, screaming leaders against the iniquitous Government. The whole story was brought out, Craigie was named as well as Loftus and several of the others. This sinister Department, the existence of which had been known to the Press for many years, must be closed down. It must be disbanded, there must be no delay. When a man of Noel’s integrity, of such known service to the country, was treated in such an arbitrary manner...

And so on, and so on.

Not all the papers took that angle. Several of them gave veiled hints that the work of the Department had been of great value, that it was being made a scapegoat for a blunder which originated not with the Department but at Downing Street. The Prime Minister was a man of great courage: let him now admit that a blunder had been made. Let there be a formal apology to Hemmingway Noel in the House.

Then, on the same evening, came the Yellow Network broadcast from New York. The headline was ‘Power Politics’ and the announcer was so excited that at times he lost his breath. He was a well-known isolationist mouthpiece, with powerful backing, and there was no doubt that many sections of the American Press would support him next morning.

They did.

The story of the secret explosive was given in bald detail. Morritz and Toller were named, the explosion at Alum Chine was cited, dark motives implied. London had given no answer, said the Press in an excess of speculation, to the repeated requests from the State Department for information Britain could not be trusted. The Mattley administration stood condemned by its own actions. The duty of the United States was to make itself impregnable, and to let Britain and other countries murder each other if they wished.

It went on, ad nauseam.

Hemmingway Noel, still at Rostrum, was in a very good humour that day, and he sent to charities gifts totalling a hundred and ten thousand pounds.

There was an emergency meeting of the Cabinet.

There was an emergency meeting in Craigie’s office, where Loftus, the Errols and several other agents gathered, and most of them looked glum.

There was, also, a smaller emergency meeting at The Pines. American papers had reached there by special messenger, and had been read and digested. The English papers had been scrutinized, line by line. None of the agents there liked to switch on the radio, for the B.B.C. was being remarkably frank in its relays of American opinion.

Red Star reported the uproar, without comment.

Pravda said that if the signatories to the United Nations’ many agreements were not to be trusted, the U.S.S.R. had a number of significant devices which would be better kept at home than sent abroad.

•           •           •           •

George Henry George sauntered from the telephone into the large lounge at The Pines and beamed across at Polly, who was with Mark Errol’s wife, a tall, dark-haired woman, rather quiet and undemonstrative.

‘What-ho, Pink Polly,’ said George. ‘Care for a walk?’

‘I’m going to see Christine.’

‘Leave that to Mrs. Mark,’ said George. ‘She won’t mind. She’s a wonderful conveyor of good messages, too, aren’t you, Mrs. Mark?’

Mark’s wife laughed.

‘And that reminds me,’ said George. ‘I’ve just had a telephone call from the Great White Chief, Craigie. Hammond is getting along nicely, thank you.’ He lit a cigarette, and, stepping to Polly, took one from her knee and another from her hair, lit one of them, and handed it to her.

‘You hopeless fool,’ said Polly.

‘I resent the “hopeless”,’ said George. ‘Polly, as you love all who are forlorn, come for a walk with me. I am serious. As a matter of fact,’ he added, and there was a sudden change in his voice and in his eyes, ‘I can’t stay around here any longer, and if I go out alone I shall probably throw myself over the cliff. We haven’t got a line of any kind now. We’re just beat. Loftus has had a go at all the prisoners, and not a word has he got out of them. He’s just telephoned me. Rutter has disappeared into thin air, and I—— Come for a walk, Polly!’

‘Will you mind going to the nursing home alone?’ Polly asked Mark’s wife.

‘Of course not. Off with you,’ said Mrs. Mark.

‘Bless your big heart!’ said George.

On the drive, he said soberly:

‘I feel just as bad as I made out, this is not a trick. When I think of what Loftus and Craigie have tried to do, when I think how near we got to fixing Noel, and now this—it makes me want to cry!’

‘They can’t turn Mattley out now,’ said Polly.

‘Oh, can’t they? And if it comes to that, why shouldn’t they if they really don’t like his politics? The thing is, to give him the boot on a count like this, when we know what he’s been trying, when—— Oh, never mind. Like an ice cream?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Polly.

‘We’ll go to that sumptuous emporium near the bus station,’ said George. ‘Bentley’s sister Paula is going to see Noel. I told you about her, remember? I don’t know whether Loftus has got an idea that she can help, but she’s coming down, and I’m to be outside Rostrum at half-past four. It’s now nearly three. We have an hour and a half in which to make ourselves drunk on ice-cream sodas.’

‘What are you going to do when you go there?’ asked Polly.

‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said George. He walked along in silence for a few minutes. They were at the top of the cliff, with hundreds of people passing them. Below, the sea was spotted with bathers, and near the pier the beach was so crowded that it looked as if the sand had gone dark and was seething like boiling water in a saucepan.

‘George, why did you make a point of bringing me out?’ Polly demanded, suddenly.

‘Sinister motive,’ said George. ‘I mean it—really sinister. I hate it. Polly, you can still say no, you know.’

She stood quite still and looked at him, and she knew that he was not fooling now. He had brought her out with a firm purpose in mind, and that purpose helped to make him even more miserable and depressed.

‘Go on,’ said Polly.

‘This is the position,’ said George. ‘We have twenty-four hours. There won’t be a vote of confidence today, Loftus told me, there will be a debate in the House tomorrow. The censure motion, if it’s coming, will come then. If it happens we can’t do anything about it, our only hope is to have the whole truth for Mattley when he winds up the debate for the Government.’

‘What has this to do with me?’ asked Polly.

‘You’ll see,’ said George. He was talking very quietly as they walked slowly on. ‘If the Government falls it will be an admission to the world that we have been trying to put one across America and the Soviet Union. Everything we’ve tried to build up will come down on us. It isn’t an accidental set of circumstances. It has all been well-timed. We know, although we can’t yet prove, that Noel is in this business. Still, there’s a fact we’re apt to forget. Noel had to learn about T.N.25 from someone.’

Polly said: ‘Was his nephew blown up by T.N.25?’

‘Almost certainly,’ said George. ‘The point is, who told Noel about it? Where did he get the formula? Not from Morritz, who killed himself to save it. Hardly Toller, although possibly someone who worked with Toller when he was with Dakers. Who, then? Only the Cabinet and four officials besides Bentley knew of the stuff. We thought we’d solved that when Bentley cropped up, but we were wrong. Bentley changed the documents going to Washington and Moscow, but the formula was not in those documents. A Cabinet Minister might have had access, but—well, someone got hold of it before it was stolen from Toller the other day,’ went on George. ‘We stand or fall by our success or failure in finding out who first got that formula.’

‘Yes, I can see all that,’ said Polly.

‘Good! The next item concerns you. Paula Bentley is going to tell Noel that you called several times at her brother’s flat. We’ve been building you up gradually and very steadily. Noel, in spite of his success so far, must wonder whether we are going to spring a last-minute surprise. When Paula Bentley has left him, I think he will want to talk to you.’

‘Oh,’ said Polly.

‘You can still say no,’ George reminded her.

‘I don’t want to say no.’

‘Polly,’ said George, his voice very low.

‘Yes.’

‘You might never come out of that house,’ said George. ‘They can get you in—unless you back out of the business now—and there’s no guarantee of what will happen afterwards.’

‘Never mind that,’ said Polly, recklessly. ‘When I’m there, what am I to do? How can I help to make Noel give way?’

‘As to that,’ said George, slowly, ‘I have instructions for you. Also, and oddly, I am coming with you.’ He gave a sudden laugh, and squeezed her arm. ‘Zounds! Are we downhearted? Listen…’