1950 - Mallory, page 4
But this job they wanted him to do wasn’t like the other jobs he had been offered. Nor were these three like the others who had come to him. He felt, however, that the principle was the same, and listening with a polite, interested expression on his face that he could so easily switch on, and that had deceived so many people.
Jeanne had left them. Ranleigh had said to her: ‘I think I can put this over better alone. But, of course, if you would rather stay . . .’
She had left the room without looking at Corridon, and he had been surprised to find that there was a certain emptiness in the room when she had gone.
Ranleigh produced from a cupboard a bottle of whisky and two glasses.
‘It’s a bit early for a drink,’ he said, ‘but you’ll have one, won’t you?’ He measured out two drinks, handed a glass to Corridon.
‘Now she’s gone I can talk more freely. The whole thing’s a bit rum.’ He raised his glass. ‘Well, cheerio.’
Corridon nodded to him and drank a little of the whisky. He was thinking that if he could persuade Ranleigh to part with five hundred pounds he could get Effie’s mouth fixed. The operation could be over and done within a couple of weeks. It pleased him to think of Effie’s delighted surprise. If he played his cards carefully there was no reason why he shouldn’t walk out of this room with the money in his pocket.
‘It’s the sort of thing you might read about in a novel,’ Ranleigh was saying. ‘You wouldn’t expect to run into it in real life. But she’s like that. She’s a bit incredible, isn’t she?’
‘You all are,’ Corridon said bluntly. ‘What are you? A secret society or something?’
Ranleigh laughed.
‘You could call us that, I suppose. It’s something you will understand. You’ve been through it yourself. That’s why we decided to ask you to help. We know you wouldn’t give us away even if you didn’t take the job.’
‘I won’t give you away,’ Corridon returned. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ll take the job. Are you serious about…?’ He stopped.
The word executioner was too melodramatic for him to use.
‘Oh yes,’ Ranleigh said. ‘It isn’t as cockeyed as it sounds. I’d better begin at the beginning.’ He paused for a moment, then went on, ‘We three are what is left of a small group of men and women working for the French Resistance Movement. Originally there were nine of us: two Frenchmen, Pierre Gourville and Georges; two Frenchwomen, Jeanne and Charlotte; two Poles, Lubish and Jan; three Englishmen, Harris, Mallory and myself.’
‘Yes,’ Corridon said. Such a combination of men and women was familiar to him. He had come across many of them in his work as a spy. He had found them useful. They were patriots; fanatics, and they did whatever he wanted them to do without question.
‘Our job was to derail trains,’ Ranleigh explained. ‘We moved about the country, hiding by day and operating by night. We did a damn good job.’ He brooded for a moment, his one eye alight with enthusiasm. ‘Pierre Gourville was the leader. He was a man of extraordinary courage and tenacity. He was a good man.’ He stared at Corridon. ‘An exceptional man. I don’t want to labour the point, but we would have done anything for him and were nothing without him. He had the knack of getting the best out of you. He inspired loyalty.’
Corridon sipped his whisky, an empty look in his eyes. He knew what Ranleigh meant. He had met men like that. A man who was entirely selfless puzzled him. He felt there must be a catch in it somewhere, but he had never been able to discover exactly what the catch was.
‘Jeanne and Gourville were lovers,’ Ranleigh went on, lowering his voice. ‘I want you to understand about Jeanne. It’s important. They were like one. I’ve never seen anything like it. Oh yes, they were in love, but not in the conventional way in which we think of love. It was much more than that: a fusion, if you like, of mind, body and spirit.’ He frowned at the whisky in his glass. ‘I’m bad at this, and it’s important. The whole of this affair hinges on their relationship. They lived for each other.’ He hesitated, groping for words and repeated, ‘I’m putting this badly,’ and looked up at Corridon, a little embarrassed. The ingrained reserve of his class was only at ease with an understatement. ‘They would have died for each other.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘That’s the best I can do.’
‘All right,’ Corridon said, concealing his impatience. ‘Then one of you betrayed him?’
Ranleigh looked fixedly at him.
‘It can’t mean anything to you,’ he said after a long pause.
‘You didn’t know Pierre. Without frills, that’s what happened.’
Corridon finished his whisky. It was plain enough to him now what it was all about. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened.
‘Well, it’s your show, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Why bring me into it?’
‘I’m coming to that,’ Ranleigh returned. ‘I’ll be as brief as I can. Jeanne and Mallory and myself were caught. We had gone out on a job, and we made a mess of it. I won’t bore you with details. We were caught and handed over to the Gestapo. They knew we were part of Pierre’s organization. We were questioned. They wanted Pierre badly. We didn’t count. He was the one at the back of it all. So long as he was free to operate, the derailing of trains would go on at the same damaging pace. Jeanne and Mallory were present when they worked on me.’
His hand went to his scar. ‘It must have been a pretty grim business for them.’ He looked at Corridon with a frank little grin. ‘I wasn’t particularly brave. They made me yell like hell once or twice.’
‘One is inclined to be noisy at that kind of party,’ Corridon said brutally, and laughed.
‘Yes. They wanted to know where Pierre was. I managed to keep my mouth shut, but only just. They grew tired of working on me after a while, and besides. I wasn’t in very good shape by then, so they turned their attention to Jeanne. I knew they wouldn’t get anything from her, but they tried hard enough. They couldn’t even make her cry out. Well, they gave up after an hour of it, and had another go at me. They smashed my arm. I passed out after that. Later, Jeanne told me what had happened.’ Ranleigh suddenly stood up and began to pace the floor. ‘It’s something I can never understand. Mallory talked. He didn’t even put up a show. As soon as they turned their attention to him, he said he would tell them what they wanted to know.’
The memory of what happened agitated him, and for a moment or so he moved restlessly about the room, a sick expression on his face. ‘They had blinded me in one eye and had smashed my arm so that it had to come off, and Jeanne - well, you can imagine what they’d done to her, so it was a bit of a jar to us both to realize we had gone through all that for nothing.’
He went to the window and stared down into the street. ‘We three were locked in a cell together after it was all over. I was half out of my mind with pain, and Jeanne was bleeding badly. Mallory kept away from us. He wasn’t touched. It was horrible to watch Jeanne trying to get at him; she was screaming and crying and calling him names, but she was too weak to reach him. It was the most awful night I have ever spent. He only spoke once. He said, “Can’t you see, you fools? They would have gone on and on. One of us would have talked eventually. Pierre will understand. It’s the fortunes of war”.’
Corridon only half listened. His thoughts were busy. Five hundred pounds! He might get more. He was good at bargaining. Yes, he might push up the price. He stared across at Ranleigh’s tense back. If he had only to deal with Ranleigh it should be easy.
II
I must tell you about Mallory - Brian Mallory,’ Ranleigh said as he poured out two more drinks. Corridon noticed his hand was unsteady. ‘He was a fighter pilot. He joined up with us after he had escaped from a prisoner-of-war camp. He seemed the right type. There was nothing weak about him. He was a good-looking chap. I suppose he was between thirty and thirty-five; public school and seemed to have plenty of money. He seemed absolutely reliable. He had made a spectacular escape; killing two guards, and was hunted for weeks. Pierre often said he considered Mallory one of his best men, and Pierre knew what he was talking about. He had a lot of initiative and never seemed to worry about risks. He always volunteered for the most dangerous jobs, and more often than not Pierre used to have to hold him in. He gave us the impression of being courageous, tough and unbreakable.’
‘I’ve met fellas like that,’ Corridon said. ‘They seem all right until they are cornered, then they go haywire. It’s called lack of moral fibre.’
‘It wasn’t like that with Mallory,’ Ranleigh said emphatically. ‘He had been cornered a dozen times. He had fought his way out without turning a hair. He just wasn’t like that. God knows what got into him that night. I don’t. I wish I did. He told where Pierre was and who would be with him; Charlotte and Georges. Luckily, Lubish, Jan and Harris were away on a job, but he gave a detailed description of them all. It was a complete give away.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘About eighteen months. Oh, I know we have taken our time to get here, but it hasn’t been easy. We’ve had to wait for things to settle down. We’ve had to save money. Jeanne’s been ill. At one time nothing went right. But we’re here now.’
‘They caught Gourville?’
‘Yes. Georges and Charlotte were killed in the fighting. Unfortunately they caught Pierre alive. He was in their hands two weeks before they killed him.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘We were lucky. There was an air raid and the prison in which we were was hit. In the confusion we got away.’
‘And Mallory?’
‘He got away too. We were a lot slower than he and he left us.’
‘And now you intend to kill him?’
‘Yes. Jeanne was ill for a long time. She had brain fever, and nearly went out of her mind. The only thing that kept her alive was the thought that one day she would meet Mallory again. We have all sworn to get him, and we are bound by honour to see the job through.’
‘But why drag me into it?’ Corridon asked, stretching out his long legs.
‘It was my idea,’ Ranleigh returned. ‘The other two don’t like it. You see, Jan was married to Charlotte. He has a personal reason for finding Mallory. So has Jeanne. I haven’t the same claim, but I’ve given my word.’
‘And the other two? Where are they?’
‘They’re dead,’ Ranleigh said quietly. ‘Mallory killed them last week.’
A flicker of interest showed in Corridon’s eyes. He hadn’t expected this.
‘Last week? You mean - here, in London?’
‘Yes.’ Ranleigh again began to pace the room. ‘We’ve underestimated Mallory. We knew he’d be a hard nut to crack, but we thought the five of us would be more than a match for him. He is a first class shot; strong, quick and as dangerous as a tiger. He has a clear-thinking, ruthless mind. He’s good at hunting men, but then, so are we, and we thought the five of us could pull him down. We are beginning to doubt. There are only three of us left. You see, we don’t know where he is. Harris had a clue to his whereabouts and went to investigate. He didn’t come back. He was found in a pond on Wimbledon Common. You know the kind of thing: unknown man commits suicide. There was no question of foul play, but we knew Mallory had got him.
‘Lubish also had a clue. He was found lying on a railway track, cut to pieces by a train. They brought that in as accidental death. After Lubish’s death I managed to persuade Jeanne to see reason. We must have outside help. Mallory knows us. He knows we are after him, and he is hitting back. Up to now he has had it all his own way. As soon as one of us gets on his track, he appears from, nowhere and strikes. Someone he doesn’t know must go after him. We heard about you. You could do it. If you can find him for us we’ll do the rest; but knowing him, if you do find him, you’ll have to act quickly. I don’t think there’ll be a chance to bring us on the scene. You’ll have to do the job. That’s why we’re offering a thousand pounds.’
‘It’s murder,’ Corridon said, the polite, interested expression much in evidence. ‘Have you thought of that?’
‘Did you call it murder when you shot Maria Hauptmann or the others who were traitors?’ Ranleigh asked quietly.
‘No, but it was murder for all that; only it was legalized murder. This is different. If I kill a man now, I shall be arrested, tried and perhaps hanged.’
‘It must be an accident or suicide,’ Ranleigh said. ‘He has killed two of us that way.’
Corridon drank a little whisky, appearing to think, but there was no need to think. He knew what he was going to do.
‘There are risks,’ he pointed out. ‘You must look at it from my point of view. You’re asking me to pull your chestnuts out of the fire. I have no personal grudge against this man. There were dozens like him. Killing a man in war-time is one thing; killing him now is something else.’
Ranleigh stubbed out his cigarette. A frown pulled his eyebrows into a wrinkled knot above the bridge of his nose.
‘There’s no point in beating about the bush,’ he said with sudden curtness. ‘Either you’ll take the job or you won’t. What’s it to be?’
‘I wouldn’t do it for a thousand.’
Ranleigh looked sharply at him.
‘Does that mean ...?’
‘Of course,’ Corridon broke in. ‘I’ll tackle anything if the price is right. A thousand isn’t enough. This is a business proposition. You’re asking me to gamble with my life. This fella might be too smart for me. I might go the way the others went. If I succeed I might make a mistake and hang. I’m risking my life, and I value it above a thousand pounds.’
‘Yes,’ Ranleigh said. ‘That’s fair enough.’ He said candidly, ‘The trouble is we haven’t much money. I’ll have to talk to the others. But fifteen hundred is the best we can do, and if we give you that it’ll put us in a hole.’
Corridon studied him. There was no guile in the ravished face, and Corridon was disappointed. He liked to bargain. He had had much experience in screwing money out of others. It was a game he enjoyed. But Ranleigh was too honest. Corridon could see he was speaking the truth. The bargain was stillborn; the battle of words over before it began.
After a moment’s hesitation Corridon said with a shrug, ‘All right, I’ll do it for that. I could use fifteen hundred. I thought I could get more out of you.’
Ranleigh laughed.
‘I know you did, that’s why I put my cards on the table. I’m no good at haggling. But I’ll have to ask the others. They may not want to pay all this: it’s practically all the money we have.’
‘Talk to them,’ Corridon said. ‘Half down and the rest when the job is done.’ He concealed a smile. ‘See what they say.’
III
Crew came into the room. He stood hesitating, looking at Corridon who lounged in the chair and grinned at him. Ranleigh had sent him out while he talked with Jeanne and Jan.
‘You’d better sit down and keep quiet,’ Corridon said. ‘I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you.’
‘What are they going to do with me?’ Crew blurted out.
Horror lurked in his eyes. ‘You know what they’re up to, don’t you? You’re in this too, aren’t you?’
Corridon lit a cigarette and surveyed Crew through a cloud of smoke.
‘I suppose. I am,’ he said indifferently. ‘And I’ve no idea what they are going to do with you. I don’t give a damn. You were a fool to try blackmail.’
‘Yes.’ Crew suppressed a shiver. ‘But how was I to know? She scares me.’ He looked fearfully at the door. ‘She’d do anything. I think she’s cracked.’
‘You never know with foreigners, but I wouldn’t say she’s cracked.’
‘They’ve been here four days now,’ Crew said, clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘I can’t move without one of them comes with me. There’s no privacy. I can’t stand much more of it. I can’t see how it’s going to end.’
‘You shouldn’t have picked his pocket.’
Crew flinched, and his face turned a dull red.
‘He told you that, did he?’
‘He said you were a pickpocket and you tried blackmail.’
Crew began to excuse himself.
‘I was short of money. They shouldn’t be in this country. Their papers aren’t in order. They could be arrested. ‘I - I only wanted fifty pounds.’
‘You should have left them alone,’ Corridon returned. He was getting bored with Crew’s misery. ‘It’s no good appealing to me. I can’t help you. After all, it’s your funeral.’
Crew began to pace up and down, his hands clenched tightly behind his back.
‘You don’t think . . .’ He broke off, unable to voice the thought that had been haunting him for the past two days. He looked helplessly at Corridon, and then resumed his pacing. ‘They’re getting on my nerves. If I could see how it was going to end. They wouldn’t...’ Again he stopped, biting his lip and staring at Corridon. ‘They don’t trust me. That’s the trouble. I wouldn’t do anything. I’ve given my word. I even offered to swear on the Bible.’
‘Have you got one?’ Corridon asked with his jeering smile.
Crew looked at him seriously.
‘No, but they could buy one couldn’t they? I said I’d pay for it . . .’ His voice trailed away. He repeated hopelessly, ‘They don’t trust me.’
IV
Corridon suppressed a yawn.
‘You might fix me another drink. Is it your whisky or theirs?’
‘It’s unbelievable,’ Crew said, ignoring Corridon’s request, ‘to get mixed up with such people. I didn’t know such people existed. They’re going to kill this chap Mallory.’ His face twitched suddenly. ‘That’s murder. They think nothing of it. Nothing . . . I’ve heard them talk. She’s the worst. She’s hard. Isn’t she?’ He stood before Corridon, his eyes feverish. ‘Isn’t she hard . . . like granite? She’s not like any other woman I’ve known.’ He turned away and wrung his hands. ‘I keep thinking they’re going to kill me,’ he burst out. ‘I know it’s silly of me, but I can’t help putting myself in their place. What else can they do? If they’re going to kill this chap Mallory, why shouldn’t they kill me?’ He swung round to face Corridon again. He was sweating. ‘I can’t sleep. It’s getting on my nerves.’
