Circus

3

Wrinfield hardly slept that night, which, considering the recent events and the worries they had brought in their wake, was hardly a matter for surprise. He finally rose about five o’clock, showered, shaved and dressed, left his luxurious quarters aboard the train and headed for the animal quarters, an instinctive practice of his whenever he was deeply troubled, for Wrinfield was in love with his circus and felt more at home there than anywhere in the world: the degree of rapport that existed between him and his animals certainly exceeded that which had existed between him and the reluctant economics students whom — as he now regarded it — he had wasted the best years of his life teaching. Besides, he could always pass the time with Johnny the night watchman who, despite the vast gulf in status that lay between them, was an old crony and confidant of his. Not that Wrinfield had any intention of confiding in anyone that night.

But Johnny wasn’t there and Johnny wasn’t the man ever to fall asleep on the job, undemanding though it was — his job was to report to the trainer concerned or the veterinary surgeon any animal that might appear off-colour. No more than slightly puzzled at first, then with increasing anxiety, Wrinfield carried out a systematic search and finally located him in a dark corner. Johnny, elderly, wizened and crippled — he’d taken one fall too many from the low wire — was securely bound and gagged but otherwise alive, apparently unharmed and furiously angry. Wrinfield loosened the gag, undid the bonds and helped the old man to his shaking legs. A lifetime in the circus had left Johnny with an extraordinary command of the unprintable and he didn’t miss out a single epithet as he freely unburdened his feelings to Wrinfield.

Wrinfield said: “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know, boss. Mystery to me. I didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear nothing.” Tenderly, Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. “Sandbagged, it feels like.”

Wrinfield examined the back of the scrawny neck. It was badly bruised and discoloured but the skin unbroken. Wrinfield put an arm round the frail shoulders. “Sandbagged you were. Come on. A seat in the office. I’ve got a little something there that’ll set you up. Then we get the police.” They were halfway towards the office when Johnny’s shoulders stiffened under the supporting arm and he said in an oddly harsh and strained voice: “I reckon we’ve got something a bit more important than a sandbagging to report to the cops, boss.” Wrinfield looked at him questioningly, then followed the direction of his staring eyes. In the cage of the Bengal tigers lay the savagely mauled remains of what had once been a man. Only by the few shreds of clothing left him and the pathetically heroic rows of medal ribbons did Wrinfield recognize that he was looking at all that remained of Colonel Fawcett. Wrinfield gazed in horrified fascination at the still pre-dawn scene — circus workers, and artistes, policemen in uniform and plainclothes detectives all milling around the animal quarters, all of them busily engaged in eradicating forever any putative clues there may have been. Ambulance men were wrapping up the unidentifiable remains of Fawcett and placing it on a stretcher. In a small group remote from the others were Malthius, the tiger trainer, Neubauer the lion tamer and Bruno, the three men who had gone into the cage and taken Fawcett out. Wrinfield turned to the admiral, whom he had first called and who, since his arrival, hadn’t bothered to explain his presence or identity to anyone and it was markedly noticeable that no policeman had approached him to ask him to justify his presence there; clearly some senior police officer had said: “Do not approach that man!”

Wrinfield said: “Who in God’s name could have done this terrible thing, sir?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Wrinfield.” It was completely out of character for the admiral to say that he was sorry about anything. “Sorry all round. Sorry for Fawcett, one of my ablest and most trusted deputies and a damned fine human being at that. And sorry for you, that I should have been responsible for involving you in this ghastly mess. This is the kind of publicity that any circus could do without.”

“The hell with the publicity. Who, sir, who?” “And I suppose I feel a bit sorry for myself, too.” The admiral shrugged his shoulders heavily. “Who? Obviously the same person or persons who killed Pilgrim. Your guess as to who they are is as good as mine. The one thing for sure is that they — whoever they are — knew he was coming down here or they wouldn’t have silenced the guard in advance — he can count himself lucky that he wasn’t found inside that cage with Fawcett. There was almost certainly a false phone call. We’ll soon know. I have them checking on it.”

“Checking on what?”

“Every call to our office, incoming or outgoing, except, of course, on the scrambler phones, is recorded. With luck, we’ll have that recording within minutes. Meantime, I’d like to talk to those three men who took Fawcett out of the cage. Individually. I understand that one of those men is your tiger trainer.

What’s his name?”

“Malthius. But — but he’s above suspicion.” “I don’t doubt it.” The admiral was trying to be patient. “Do you think any murder mystery would ever be solved if we questioned only the suspects? Please have him brought.” Malthius, a dark-eyed Bulgarian with an open face, was plainly deeply upset. The admiral said, kindly for him:

“You’ve no need to be so distressed.”

“My tigers did this, sir.”

“They would probably do it to anyone in the country except you. Or would they?”

“I don’t know, sir. If a person were lying quietly, I really don’t think so.” He hesitated. “But, well, under certain circumstances they might.” The admiral waited patiently and Malthius went on: “If they were provoked. Or —”

“Yes?”

“If they smelled blood.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Of course he’s sure.” The admiral, who was quite unaware of Wrinfield’s intense loyalty to his men, was surprised at the asperity in his voice. “What do you mean, sir? We feed them on horse meat or beef and those are raw and smell of blood. The tigers can’t wait to get at the meat and tear it to pieces with teeth and claws. Have you ever seen tigers at feeding-time?” The admiral had a mental vision of how Fawcett must have died and shuddered involuntarily. “No, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to either.” He turned back to Malthius. “So he could have been alive, conscious or not — blood doesn’t flow when you’re dead — stabbed and thrown into the cage?” “That is possible, sir. But you won’t find any trace of a stab wound now.”

“I realize that. You found the door locked on the outside. Is it possible to do that from the inside?”

“No. You can bolt it from the inside. It wasn’t bolted.”

“Isn’t that a rather curious arrangement?”

Malthius smiled for the first time, albeit faintly. “Not for a tiger trainer, sir. When I go into the cage I turn the key on the outside and leave it in position. Once I get inside I bolt the door — can’t risk having the door swing open or being pulled open by one of the tigers and letting them loose among the crowd.” He smiled a second time, again without mirth. “It could come in useful for me, too. If things get unpleasant for me, I just slide the bolt, get away from there and turn the key on the outside.”

“Thank you. Would you ask that friend of yours —” “Heinrich Neubauer, sir. The lion trainer.” “I’d like to see him.” Malthius walked dejectedly away and the admiral said: “He seems very unhappy to me.” “Wouldn’t you be?” Again the unexpected asperity in Wrin-field’s voice. “He not only feels personally responsible but his tigers have for the first time acquired a taste for human flesh. Malthius is human flesh, too, you know.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

The admiral asked Neubauer a few desultory and inconsequential questions then asked for Bruno. When he arrived the admiral said: “You’re the only one I really wanted to talk to. The other two were only a cover — we’re being watched both by circus people and the police. Some of the police, by the way, think I’m a very senior police officer, others that I’m from the FBI, although why they should imagine that I can’t imagine. A dreadful thing, Bruno, a quite dreadful thing. Well, it looks as if poor Fawcett was correct, we’re being pushed to the limit to find out how really desperate we are to go to Crau. Well, I’ve been pushed far enough. Who knows who’s going to be next? I have no right, no one has any right, to ask you to be involved in this ghastly business any more. There’s a limit to patriotism — being patriotic did Pilgrim and Fawcett a great deal of good, didn’t it? You are now released from any obligations, real or imagined, that you may have had.”

“Speak for yourself.” Wrinfield’s tone had remained unchanged. Whatever touched Wrinfield’s beloved circus touched his rawest nerve: this had become a personal matter. “Two good men have died. You want them to have died in vain? I’m going to Europe.”

The admiral blinked and turned to Bruno. “And you?”

Bruno looked at him in a silence that verged on the contemptuous.

“Well.” The admiral was momentarily nonplussed. “Off again, on again. If you’re prepared to accept the risks, I’m prepared to accept your sacrifices. Utterly selfish, I know, but we desperately want those papers. I won’t try to thank you, I honestly wouldn’t know how to, but the least I can do is to arrange protection. I’ll assign five of my best men to you — as a press corps, shall we say? Then once you are aboard the boat-”

Bruno spoke in a very quiet voice. “If you assign any of your men to us, then nobody’s going anywhere, and that includes me. And from what I’m told, although I don’t understand it yet, if I don’t go then there’s no point in anyone else going anyway. The exception, of course, is Dr Harper, a dead man vouched for him and you can’t get any better recommendation than that. As for the rest of your men — who do you think killed Pilgrim and Fawcett? Without their protection, we might have a chance.” Bruno turned abruptly and walked away. The admiral looked after him, with a slightly pained expression on his face, at a momentary but highly unusual lack for words, but was saved the necessity of making comment by the arrival of a police sergeant carrying a small black box. That the uniform was not the property of the man inside it Wrinfield was quite certain. When it came to local colour Charles — it was the only way Wrinfield could think of him — was not a man who missed much.

The admiral said. “The recording?” and when the sergeant nodded: “May we use your office, please, Mr Wrinfield?” “Of course.” Wrinfield looked around him. “Not here. In the train. Too many people.”

The office door closed behind them, the sergeant took the recorder from its casing and Wrinfield said: “What do you expect to hear?”

“You.” Wrinfield looked his astonishment. “Or a very close approximation of your voice. Or Bruno’s. Yours were the only two voices in the circus that Fawcett knew: he wouldn’t have come for anyone else.”

They heard the recording through. At the end Wrinfield said calmly: “That’s meant to be me. Shall we hear it again?” They heard it through a second time then Wrinfield said positively: “That’s not my voice. You know it isn’t.” “My dear Wrinfield, I never dreamed it would be. I know it isn’t. Now I know it isn’t. But I had to hear it a second time to make sure. When a man speaks in that hurried and distressed fashion, his voice takes on abnormal overtones. A piece of silk stretched across the mouthpiece is a great help. I don’t blame poor Fawcett for being fooled, especially when he had only the one thing on his mind at the time. But it’s a damned good imitation all the same.” The admiral paused, ruminated, then looked at Wrinfield consideringly. “To the best of my knowledge and belief, and to yours, you don’t know and never have talked to any of my men. Right?” Wrinfield nodded. “So I put it to you that this call was made by someone who knew your voice intimately and had studied it.”

“That’s preposterous. If you’re suggesting —”

“Precisely what I am suggesting, I’m afraid. Look, man, if our organization can be infiltrated don’t you think your damned circus can’t be too? After all, you’ve got twenty-five nationalities working for you: I’ve got only one.” “You’re the CIA. Everyone would want to infiltrate the CIA.

Who’d want to infiltrate a harmless circus?” “Nobody. But in the eyes of the ungodly you’re not a harmless circus, you’re an affiliate of the CIA and therefore ripe for infiltration. Don’t let blind loyalty blind your intelligence. Let’s hear that recording again. Only this time don’t listen for your own voice, listen for someone else’s. I should imagine you know the voice of every man in your employment. And to narrow the field, remember that most of your men speak with fairly heavy foreign accents. This is an Anglo-Saxon voice, probably American, although I can’t be sure.” They played the recording through four more times and at the end Wrinfield shook his head. “It’s no good. The distortion is far too heavy.”

“Thank you, officer, you may leave.” The sergeant snapped the case shut and left. Briefly the admiral paced up and down the full length of the office — three steps in either direction — then shook his head in the reluctant acceptance of the inevitable. “What a charming thought. A link up between my lot and yours.”

“You’re terribly certain.”

“I’m terribly certain of one thing and that’s this. There isn’t one man in my lot who wouldn’t give up his pension rather than open the door of a tiger’s cage.”

Wrinfield nodded with an equally reluctant acceptance. “I suppose it’s my turn to say that I should have thought of that.” “That’s unimportant. Point is, what are we going to do? You’re under hostile surveillance, my career’s on that.” He paused in momentary gloom. “Whatever my career’s going to be worth when all this is over.”

“I thought we’d settled all that.” The now accustomed touch of asperity was back in Wrinfield’s voice. “You heard what I said back in the circus. You heard what Bruno said. We go.” The admiral regarded him thoughtfully. “A marked change of attitude since last night. Or, more properly, a marked hardening in attitude.”

“I don’t think you quite understand, sir.” Wrinfield was being patient. “This is my life, my whole life. Touch me, touch my circus. Or vice versa. We have one major card in the hole.” “I’ve missed it?”

“Bruno’s still in the clear.”

“I hadn’t missed it and it’s because I want him to stay that way that I’d like you to take this girl of ours into your employ. Her name is Maria Hopkins and although I don’t know her all that well Dr Harper assures me she is a very bright operative and that her loyalty is beyond question. She’s to fall in love with Bruno and he with her. Nothing more natural.” The admiral put on his sad smile. “If I were twenty years younger I’d say there was nothing easier. She’s really rather beautiful. That way she can liaise with Bruno, yourself, Dr Harper — and, up to the time of your departure, with myself — without raising any eyebrows. As an equestrienne, perhaps? That was Faw-cett’s idea.”

“No perhaps. She may think she’s good, she may actually be good, but there’s no place for amateurs in the circus. Besides, there’s not a man or woman on my performing staff who wouldn’t spot immediately that she’s not a trained circus equestrienne: you couldn’t devise a surer way of calling attention to her.”

“Suggestions?”

“Yes. Fawcett mentioned this possibility in this dreadful bordello place he took us to and I’ve given the matter some thought. Didn’t require much, really. My secretary is getting married in a few weeks to a very strange fellow who doesn’t like circuses: so she’s leaving. This is common knowledge. Let Maria be my new secretary. Every reason for her to be in constant contact with me, and through me your doctor and Bruno without any questions being asked.” “Couldn’t be better. Now, I’d like you to put a large box advert in the papers tomorrow for a doctor to accompany the circus to Europe. I know this isn’t the way one normally recruits a medical man but we’ve no time to wait to use the more professional channels. This must be made clear in the advert. Besides it will make it perfectly clear that you are seeking a doctor with no one in mind and that your choice will essentially be a random one. You may have quite a few replies — it would make a nice holiday for someone who has just, say, completed his internship — but you will, of course, choose Dr Harper.

He hasn’t practised medicine for years, although I dare say he’d find an aspirin if you twisted his arm. That’s irrelevant. What matters is that he is an outstanding intelligence agent.”

“So, I was led to believe, was Pilgrim. And Fawcett.” The admiral made a quick gesture of irritation. “Things don’t always happen in threes. Fortunes turn. Those two men knew the risks. So does Harper. Anyway, no suspicion attaches to him. There’s no connection between him and the circus.” “Has it occurred to you that ›they‹ may check on his background?”

“Has it occurred to you that I might make a better owner and managing director of a circus than you are?” “Touché. I asked for that.”

“Yes, you did. Two things. There’s no more reason why they should check on him than any of your hundreds of employees. His background is impeccable: he’s a consultant at the Belvedere and this is his way of spending part of his sabbatical at someone else’s expense. Much higher qualifications and much more experienced than any of the other applicants you’ll have. A natural choice. You’re lucky to have him.”

“But he hasn’t practised —”

“He has consulting rooms in the hospital. One of our branch offices.”

“Is nothing sacred to you people?”

“Not much. How soon are you prepared to leave?”

“Leave?”

“For Europe.”

“I have a number of alternative dates and places pencilled in for there. That’s not the problem. Three more days here then we have three more engagements on the east coast.” “Cancel them.”

“Cancel them? We never cancel — I mean, we have all arrangements made, theatres booked, saturation advertising, thousands of tickets sold in advance —” “Compensation, Mr Wrinfield, will be on a princely scale. Think of a suitable figure and it will be lodged in your bank tomorrow.”

Wrinfield was not much given to wringing his hands but he looked as if he would have liked to indulge in just a little right then. “We are an annual institution in those places. We have a tremendous amount of goodwill —” “Double the figure you first thought of. Cancel. Your sea transport will be ready in New York in one week. When you sign up Dr Harper, he’ll organize vaccinations and inoculations. If you have any visa problems, we’ll do a little leaning. Not that I expect any trouble from the east European embassies or consulates — their countries are just dying to have you. I will be around tonight for the evening performance. So will the ravishing Miss Hopkins — but not with me. Have someone show her around, but not you.”

“I have a very bright nephew —”

“Fine. Tell him nothing. Have him give her a thorough guided tour, the new secretary getting acquainted with the physical background of her new job. Have her introduced to some of your top performers. Especially, of course, to Bruno. Let Bruno know the score in advance.”

Henry Wrinfield looked a great deal more like Tesco Wrin-field’s son than a nephew had any right to look, although he undoubtedly was his nephew. He had the same dark eyes, the same lean studious face, the same quick intelligence; and if he wasn’t quite in the same cerebral league as his uncle, he was, as his uncle had said, a very bright young fellow indeed, or at least bright enough to find no hardship in the chore of escorting Maria Hopkins round the back-stage of the circus. For an hour or so he completely forgot the blue-stocking Ivy Leaguer to whom he was engaged and was slightly surprised that, when he remembered her about an hour later — he rarely spent ten minutes without thinking of her — he experienced no twinges of conscience.

Few men would have found cause for complaint in the performance of such a task as had been entrusted to Henry, and those only misogynists in an irretrievably advanced state. She was a petite figure, although clearly not suffering from malnutrition, with long dark hair, rather splendid liquid dark eyes and an extraordinarily infectious smile and laugh. Her resemblance to the popular concept of an intelligence agent was nonexistent, which may have been one of the reasons why Dr Harper reportedly held her in such high regard. Henry, quite unnecessarily guiding her by the upper arm, showed her round the tethered and caged animals and introduced her to Malthius and Neubauer, who were putting the big cats through their last-minute paces. Malthius was charming and graceful and wished her a very pleasant stay: Neubauer, though civil enough, didn’t know how to be charming and wished her nothing.

Henry then led her through to the raucous blare of the fairground. Kan Dahn was there, toying with an enormous bar-bell and looking more impressively powerful than ever: he took her small hand carefully in his own gigantic one, smiled widely, announced that she was the best recruit to arrive at the circus since he himself had joined it years ago and altogether gave her a welcome so courteous it bordered on the effusive. Kan Dahn was always in high humour, although nobody was quite sure whether it stemmed from an innate good nature or because he had discovered quite some time ago that it was unnecessary for him to be unpleasant to anyone. Manuelo, the Mexican genius with the knife, was standing behind the counter of a booth, benevolently watching considerable numbers of the young and not so young throwing rubber-tipped knives at moving targets. Occasionally he would come round to the front of his booth and, throwing double-handed, would knock down six targets in half that number of seconds, just to show his customers that there was really nothing to it. He welcomed Maria with a great deal of Latin enthusiasm, putting himself entirely at her service during her stay in the circus. A little farther on, Ron Roebuck, the lasso specialist, gave her a grave but friendly welcome: as she walked away from him she was astonished and then delighted to see a shimmering whirling circle of rope drop down over her, barely touch the ground, then effortlessly rise and disappear without once touching her clothes. She turned and gave Roebuck a wide smile and he no longer looked grave. Bruno emerged from his little performing hall as Henry and Maria approached it. He was clad in the same Mandarin robe as previously and, also as before, looked anything but impressive. Henry made the introductions and Bruno looked at her with a kind of inoffensive appraisal. As usual, it was almost impossi ble to tell what he was thinking, and then he smiled, a rare gesture for Bruno but one that transformed his face. He said: “Welcome to the circus. I hope your stay is a long and happy one.”

“Thank you.” She smiled in turn. “This is an honour. You — you are the star of the circus?”

Bruno pointed skywards. “All the stars are up there, Miss Hopkins. Down here there are only performers. We all do what we can. Some of us are lucky in that we have acts more spectacular than others, that’s all. Excuse me. I must hurry.”

Maria, thoughtful, watched him go. Henry said in amusement:

“Not quite what you expected?”

“Well, no.”

“Disappointed?”

“A little, I suppose.”

“You won’t be tonight. Nobody ever is, not when they watch the impossible.”

“Is it true that he and his brothers are completely blindfolded up there? They can’t see at all?”

“No faking. They are in total darkness. But you’ll notice that it’s Bruno that conducts the orchestra. He’s the co-ordinator and catcher. Maybe the three brothers share some telepathic gift. I don’t know. Nobody else seems to know either. And if Bruno and his brothers know they’re not saying.” “Maybe it’s something else.” She indicated the legend ›The Great Mentalist‹. “A photographic memory, they say, and can read people’s minds.”

“I hope he didn’t read yours tonight.”

“Please. And he can read the contents of sealed envelopes. If he can see through paper why can’t he see through a blindfold?”

He looked at her in genuine surprise. He said: “Miss Hopkins, you’re not just a pretty face. Do you know, I’d never thought of that.” He pondered for a moment, then gave up. “Let’s go take our seats for the show. Like it, so far?”

“Very much.”

“Anything special?”

“Yes. Everybody’s so terribly nice and polite.” Henry smiled. “We’re not all just down from the trees.” He took her arm and guided her towards the arena. His bluestocking fiancée wasn’t even a cloud on his rose-coloured horizon. There was someone in the circus at that moment who was not being terribly nice and polite, but then the admiral was not a member of the circus and he certainly was not accustomed to having his will thwarted. Further, he’d had a long, tiring and very frustrating day and his normal amiability had deserted him.

“I don’t think you heard me properly,” the admiral said with ominous restraint.

“You heard me, all right.” Because the back-stage entrance to the circus was ill-lit, because it was very dark and still raining just outside and because his faded eyes no longer saw too well, Johnny, the nightwatchman, had failed to identify the admiral. “The entrance for the public is farther along there. Get going!”

“You’re under arrest,” the admiral said without preamble. He turned to a shadowy figure behind him. “Take this fellow to the nearest station. Have him charged with obstructing the course of justice.”

“Easy, now, easy.” Johnny’s tone had undergone a marked change. “There’s no need —” He leaned forward and peered up at the admiral. “Aren’t you the gentleman who was here when we had this bit of bother this morning?”

“If by a bit of bother you mean murder, yes. Take me to Mr Wrinfield!”

“Sorry, sir. I’m on duty here.”

“Johnny, isn’t it? You still want to be on duty tomorrow, Johnny?”

Johnny took the admiral to Mr Wrinfield.

The admiral’s interview with Wrinfield was brief. He said:

“You’re clear for Europe. There’ll be no trouble with visas.”

“Twenty-five different nationalities? In one day?” “I have a staff of four hundred, among some of whom the eagle-eyed may detect some glimmerings of intelligence. Dr Harper will be here at ten in the morning. Be here please. He will begin immediately. Our personal investigation and police enquiries into the murders of Pilgrim and Fawcett have turned up nothing. I don’t expect they will. Future events may.” “What kind of events?”

“I don’t know. Fairly drastic in nature, I should imagine.

Next, I’ve just put a scare into Johnny, your night watchman. That was to ensure his co-operation. He’s truculent and a bit dim but I suppose reliable.”

“I’d trust him with my life.”

“We all put different values on our lives. I’m putting six men on to patrol the sleeping quarters of the train at night. They’re not from our organization, so you need have no worries on that score. They will be here nightly until you leave — which, incidentally, will be in five days’ time.”

“Why the patrol? I’m not sure I like that.”

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not.” The admiral smiled, albeit tiredly, to rob the words of offence. “From the moment you accepted this assignment, you’re under government orders. It’s for security. I want Johnny to act as guide-dog.”

“Whose security?”

“Bruno’s, Maria’s, Harper’s — and yours.”

“Mine? I’m in danger?”

“Quite candidly, I’m sure you’re not, if for no other reason than if anything happened to you the trip would be cancelled — which wouldn’t suit our friends at all. But I’m not taking the ghost of a chance.”

“And you think this patrol will help?”

“Yes. In a closed community like this their presence will be common knowledge within the hour. Put it about that the police have received threats against unspecified members of your staff. If you have any bogey-men among your crew members, this news will make them lie very low indeed.” “As you say, you don’t take many chances, do you?” The admiral said drily: “I think the shadows of Pilgrim and Fawcett would entirely approve. Have Bruno and Maria met yet?” Wrinfield nodded. “Reactions?”

“Bruno hasn’t got any. If he has, he never shows them. As for Maria, well, Henry said she didn’t exactly fall about.” “Unimpressed, one might say?”

“One might.”

“She’s watching the show?”

“Yes. With Henry.”

“I wonder if she’s still unimpressed.”

“Still unimpressed?” Henry asked. He clearly wasn’t, but then he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Maria didn’t answer immediately. She was staring, as if hypnotized — as ten thousand other people were doing — as the Blind Eagles went through their unbelievable and seemingly suicidal aerial routine. At the end of the performance she released her breath in a long soundless sigh. “I don’t believe it.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I just don’t believe what I’ve seen.”

“I can hardly believe it myself — and I’ve seen it a hundred times. First impressions can be wrong, no?” “Just how wrong.”

Half an hour later she was with Henry just outside the dres-sing-room area when Bruno emerged, dressed in street clothes. He was back to his old, relatively unimpressive self. He stopped, smiled at her, and said: “I saw you at the show.” “Blindfolded?”

“On the low wire. On the bicycle.”

She looked at him in astonishment. “Doing that impossible act? You have time to look round the audience?” “I have to have something to occupy my attention,” he said with mock bravado. “Enjoy it all?” She nodded and he smiled again. “Even the Blind Eagles? I’m only searching for compliments, of course.”

Maria looked at him without smiling, pointed upwards and said: “A star has fallen from the sky.” She turned and walked away. From the slight corrugation of Bruno’s brow it was impossible to tell whether he was puzzled or amused. Dr Harper, looking every inch the high-powered consultant that he wasn’t, arrived precisely at ten o’clock the following morning, but had to wait over half an hour while Wrinfield went through the motions of interviewing several other would- be circus doctors who had turned up quite some time before ten o’clock.

Wrinfield was alone in his office when Harper knocked and entered. Harper said: “Good morning. I’m Dr Harper.” Wrinfield looked at him in considerable astonishment and had just opened his mouth to speak, doubtless to inform Harper that he was not likely to have forgotten him due to the fact that they had made their first acquaintance over the dead body of Pilgrim, when Harper handed him a hand-written note. It read:

“This office may be bugged. Interview me as you would any other candidate.”

“Good morning.” Wrinfield hadn’t even blinked. “I’m Wrinfield, the owner.” He launched smoothly into the interview:

Harper, both while listening and answering, sat down and scribbled another note. He handed it across. It read: “End the interview and give me the job. Ask me my immediate plans then invite me outside for a look around.”

Wrinfield said: “Well, that’s it. I’m too busy a man to spend a lifetime on making decisions. The job’s yours. Frankly, when I have the choice between an experienced consultant and the young interns I’ve been seeing — well, I don’t have much of a choice. I’m not so naive as to imagine that you’re making this a full-time career. A sabbatical — or part of it?” “Twelve years in the Belvedere is a long time.”

“How soon could you be free, Doctor?”

“Now.”

“Splendid. And what would your immediate plans be?” “Depends on how soon you want to leave on this foreign tour.”

“Let’s work towards four or five days from now.” “Little enough time. First, Mr Wrinfield, I’d like your authorization for medical supplies. Then a collection of all the passports until I see what’s required in the way of vaccinations and inoculations — I understand your circus has never toured abroad before. I’m afraid that some of your high-wire and trapeze artistes will have to curtail their acts quite a bit in the next few days.”

“All that I can arrange immediately. First of all, though, I suggest you have a look around. When you see what you’ve taken on you might want to change your mind.” The two men left the office and Wrinfield led the way to the centre ring of the circus itself, a spot which, in so far as potential eavesdroppers were concerned, was probably more secluded than any place for a mile around. Nonetheless, Wrinfield scuffed the sand with the toe of his shoe and looked casually around before speaking.

He said: “And what was all that for?”

“Sorry about all that cloak and dagger stuff. We don’t usually go in for it — spoils our image. Incidentally, congratulations — you’d make a splendid recruit to bur organization. Anyway, I was speaking to Charles just before I came here and we both came up with the same very nasty suspicion at the same time.” “That my office was bugged?”

“If it were, it could explain a great deal.”

“But why all the paper notes you handed me? Why didn’t you just phone and warn me?” Harper half-smiled at him and Wrinfield tapped his own head. “That wasn’t very bright. The phone could have been bugged, too.”

“Indeed. In a few minutes’ time you can expect another applicant for my job. His name is Dr Morley and he will be carrying the regulation black medical bag. But he’s no doctor, he’s an electronics expert and his bag is packed with extremely advanced equipment for locating bugging devices. Ten minutes alone in your office and he’ll find out whether it’s clean or not.”

Fifteen minutes later, as Wrinfield and Harper approached the office, a tall dark man with a black bag descended the steps from it. For the benefit of any watchers or listeners Wrinfield introduced them and suggested a cup of coffee in the canteen. They sat at a remote corner table.

Morley said: “Two bugs. Miniaturized radio transmitters.

One in the ceiling light, the other in the phone.” “So I can breathe again,” Wrinfield said. Neither of the other two made any immediate reply so he went on rather uncertainly:

“I mean, those devices have been removed or deactivated?” “Most certainly not,” Harper said. “The bugs are still there and there they will remain, probably until we return from Europe. Do you think we want the ungodly to know that we know? Think of all the amount of false and confusing and misleading information we can feed them.” One could see that, mentally, Harper was positively rubbing his hands. “From now on you will conduct only routine circus business in that office.” He smiled almost dreamily. “Unless, of course, I give instructions to the contrary.”

In the days that followed, four subjects increasingly and exclusively dominated conversation in the circus. The first of those, inevitably, emanated from the mounting excitement over the forthcoming trip to Europe, a euphoric state that was not, understandably, shared by the unfortunates who were not making the foreign tour but would be returning to the winter headquarters in Florida: for purely logistical reasons, only just two-thirds of the personnel would be able to make it. But for the two-thirds who were going the European visit, especially as it included a two-way ocean voyage, was regarded as nothing less than a holiday. An extremely arduous holiday it promised to be from the moment of disembarkation, but nonetheless a holiday. About half the crew were American, few of whom had ever been abroad before, partly from financial considerations, partly because the circus season was so long that they had only three weeks free in the year and this at the wrong time of the year — in the dead of winter: for them, this could be a once in a lifetime experience. The remainder were predominantly European, mainly from the other side of the Iron Curtain, and this was, possibly, also a once in a lifetime experience — that of seeing their native countries and families again.

The second subject concerned the much-maligned activities of Dr Harper and his two temporarily employed trained nurses. Their degree of unpopularity was high. Harper was rigorous to the point of ruthlessness, and when it came to vaccinations and inoculations no one passed through the meshes of the wide net he cast and when any to-be-or-not-to-be questions arose he never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt. Circus people are undoubtedly tougher and fitter than the average run of mankind, but when it came to a profound aversion to injections, scratches and consequent sore arms they were no different from anyone else. But nobody could possibly doubt that they had a genuine and dedicated doctor in their midst. The third concerned two sets of mysterious activities. The first was the patrol that so closely guarded the sleeping quarters on the train during the night. No one seriously believed that threats to lives had been made by parties unknown but, then, they didn’t know what else to believe. Then there was the baffling incident of two alleged electrical engineers who had come to examine the wiring of the train. They had almost finished their task before their authenticity had been questioned and the police called. Unknown to anyone in the circus except Harper, they had been detained in custody for precisely five minutes, which was all the time it took for one of them to phone the admiral and reassure him that none of the sleeping quarters on the train had been bugged.

The last, but unquestionably the most engrossing topic of the lot, concerned Bruno and Maria. To the vexation of Henry, who was engaged in a battle with his conscience, they were not only seen increasingly in each other’s company, but were also seen actively and with no attempt at concealment to seek out each other’s company. The reactions to this particular development were predictably mixed. Some were amused to see Bruno’s hitherto inviolate defences being breached. Others were envious — the men because Bruno had undoubtedly and apparently without effort attached the affections of a girl who politely but pointedly ignored any other approaches made to her, the women because Bruno, by far the most eligible bache lor in the circus, politely but pointedly ignored any approaches made to him. Many more were happy for Bruno, and this despite the fact that apart from Kan Dahn, Manuelo and Roebuck he had no real friends in the circus, because it was common knowledge that since the death of his wife he had been a sad, lonely and withdrawn man who never looked at women. But the majority regarded it as only natural and inevitable that the undisputed star of the circus should come together with a girl who was arguably the most lovely young lady among a plethora of lovely young ladies. It was not until the last performance of their last night in town that Bruno rather diffidently asked her along to see his quarters aboard the train. Maria showed no diffidence in accepting the offer. He guided her stumbling footsteps along the rutted siding track then helped her up the steep steps at the end of a coach.

Bruno had rather splendid and completely enclosed quarters, consisting of a sitting-room, kitchen-cum-dinette, bathroom — with, of all thing, a sunken bath — and bedroom. Maria looked almost dazed as he led her back to the sitting-room. He said: “I’m told I mix what the Americans call a rather mean martini. Only time I ever drink is after I’ve finished a series in a town. Alcohol and the trapeze don’t mix. Will you join me?”

“Please. I must say you do live in style. You should have a wife to share all this.”

Bruno fetched ice. “Is that a proposal?”

“No, it’s not. But all this — just for one man.”

“Mr Wrinfield is very kind to me.”

She said drily: “I don’t think Mr Wrinfield is losing out on the deal. Does anyone else have accommodation like this?”

“I haven’t gone around examining —”

“Bruno!”

“No.”

“Certainly not me. I have a place like a horizontal telephone box. Ah, well, I suppose there’s a vast gap in status between a trainee secretary and you.”

“That’s so.”

“Men! Modesty! I just don’t know!”

“Come with me on the high trapeze. Blindfolded. Then you’ll know.”

She shuddered, not altogether affectedly. “I can’t even stand on a chair without getting vertigo. Truly. You’re welcome to your place. Well, I suppose I can always come along and visit the palace.”

He handed her a drink. “I’ll have a special welcome mat made out for you.”

“Thank you.” She lifted her glass. “To our first time alone. We’re supposed to be falling in love. Any idea how the others think we are doing?”

“I can’t speak for the others. I think I’m doing very well.” He glanced at the compressing lips and said hastily: “I think we’re doing very well. I suppose, as of this moment, that must be the general idea. By this time at least a hundred people must know that you’re here with me. Aren’t you supposed to blush or something?”

“No.”

“It’s a lost art. Well, I don’t suppose you came along just for my dark eyes. You have something to tell me?” “Not really. You asked me, remember?” She smiled.

“Why?”

“Just polishing up our act.” She stopped smiling and put down her glass. He reached forward quickly and touched the back of her hand. “Don’t be a silly goose, Maria.” She looked at him uncertainly, smiled a token smile, and picked up her glass again. “Tell me. What am I supposed to do when we get to Crau — and how am I supposed to do it?” “Only Dr Harper knows, and he’s not ready to talk yet. I should imagine that he’ll tell you — us — either on the way across or when we get to Europe. But two things he did tell me this morning —” “I knew you had something to tell me.”

“Yes. I was just trying to be a tease. It didn’t work, did it? Remember those two so-called electrical engineers that the police escorted to the train? They were our people, electronic experts searching for listening devices — bugs. They concentrated on your apartment.”

“Bugs? In my apartment. Come on, Maria, that is a bit melodramatic.”

“Is it? The second items of news is that a few days ago they found two bugs in Mr Wrinfield’s office — one for the room, one for the telephone. I suppose that’s melodramatic, too?” When Bruno made no reply she went on: “They haven’t removed the bugs. Mr Wrinfield, on Dr Harper’s suggestion, is on the phone to Charles several times a day, dropping vague hints and making veiled suggestions about certain members of the circus who might be of interest to him. Nothing about us, of course. In fact he’s made so many suggestions that if they — whoever ›they‹ may be — are keeping tabs on the suggested suspects they won’t have time to look at far less think about anyone else. Which, of course, includes us.” “I think they’re nuts,” Bruno said candidly. “And by ›they‹, this time, I don’t mean ›they‹, I mean Wrinfield and Harper. Playing little kiddies’ games.”

“The murders of Pilgrim and Fawcett. That was a game?” “Preserve me from feminine logic. I wasn’t talking about them.”

“Dr Harper has twenty years’ experience behind him.” “Or one year’s twenty times over. OK, so I leave myself in the safe arms of the experts. Meantime, I suppose there’s nothing for the sacrificial calf to do?”

“No. Well, yes. You can tell me how to get in touch with you.”

“Knock twice and ask for Bruno.”

“You have a sealed-off suite here. I won’t be able to see you when the train is in motion.”

“Well, well.” Bruno smiled widely, a rare thing for him: it was the first time she had seen his smile touch his eyes. “I make progress. You think you’ll be wanting to see me?” “Don’t be silly. I may have to see you.”

Bruno nodded forwards. “It’s illegal to seal off any part of a coach in motion. There’s a door in the corner of my bedroom that leads to the passage beyond. But it’s only got one handle and that’s on my side.”

“If I knock tat-tat, tat-tat, you’ll know it’s me.” “Tat-tat, tat-tat,” he said solemnly. “I love those kiddies’ games.”

He escorted her back to her compartment. At the foot of the steps he said: “Well, good-night. Thanks for the visit.” He bent forward and kissed her lightly.

She didn’t object, just said mildly: “Isn’t that carrying realism a bit too far?”

“Not at all. Orders are orders. We are supposed to be creating a certain impression, and the chance was too good to pass up. There are at least a dozen people watching us.”

She made a face, turned and went up the steps.