Mission To Siena

Chapter II

THE TORTOISE

As Harry Mason drove the black Bentley along rain-drenched Piccadilly, he thought gloomily that he would have to clean the car again, and that would be twice in a day. Once was all right; an accepted part of the day's work, but twice was laying it on a little too thick. Didn't it ever do anything else but rain in this perishing country?

Don Micklem, sitting at Harry's side, suddenly leaned forward.

"There's Mrs Ferenci," he said, breaking into Harry's thoughts. He lowered the window. "She may want a lift."

Harry swung the car to the kerb.

A girl in a black and white check mackintosh and a small black hat stood on the kerb looking vainly for a taxi. She was slight, fair with big violet eyes, and as Don waved to her, he wondered why she was looking so pale and worried.

"Julia!" he exclaimed, sliding out of the car into the rain. "I haven't seen you for weeks. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

The girl's face lit up at the sight of him.

"Why, Don! I thought you were in Nice."

"Probably off in a couple of weeks. Hop in before you get wetter than you are." He opened the rear door and helped Julia into the back seat where he joined her. "What are you up to? Going anywhere in particular?"

"It's good to see you, Don," Julia said and her slim, gloved fingers touched his hand. "I thought you were away otherwise I would have called you. I want to talk to you. It's about Guido."

"Would you like to come back to my place?" Don asked, his steady grey eyes searching her face. "I'm free until one o'clock." He glanced at his strap watch. "It's only a quarter to twelve. Or shall we stop off at the Berkeley?"

"I'd rather go to your place," Julia said. "I mustn't be long. I'm lunching with Guido."

"Home, Harry," Don said, then as Harry whisked them towards the white-faced, olive-green shuttered house at the far end of Upper Brook Mews that had been Don's London home for the past six years, he went on, "Is Guido all right?"

Julia forced a smile.

"He's fine. He was only talking about you yesterday. You know about this company thing of his? He wants you on the board. But that doesn't matter right now. He'll talk to you about it. He has so many plans. He..." She broke off and looked out of the window, her hands turning into fists.

Don lit a cigarette, raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and wondered what was wrong. He hoped Guido hadn't been fooling around with some woman. He thought it unlikely for he knew how devoted Guido was to Julia, but one never knew.

Harry pulled up outside 25a, Upper Brook Mews, slid out of the car and held the car door open. He gave Julia a smart salute and her distracted smile disturbed him. Don led her into the big, restful lounge.

"Sit down, Julia," he said. "Have a cigarette and relax. How about a sherry or a martini?" "I'd love a sherry."

Don touched the bell and then carried a box of cigarettes over to Julia and put it on the table beside her.

He was lighting her cigarette when Cherry, Don's butler and major-domo, came into the room.

Cherry was tall and bulky with a pink and white complexion and several pink chins. He had often been mistaken for an Archbishop, and in spite of his sixty-odd years, he carried himself with surprising sprightliness.

"You rang, sir?" he said in his rich, fruity voice. "Mrs Ferenci would like a sherry," Don said. "I'll have a whiskey"

"Certainly, sir," Cherry said and inclined his head towards Julia. His fat, pink face showed reserved approval.

Suspicious of American women, he had long since decided that Julia was an exception. He was satisfied that she knew how to behave in any situation and also that she was wealthy. These two qualifications for Cherry's approval were essential.

When he had served the drinks and had silently departed, Don stretched out his long legs and smiled encouragingly at Julia.

"Well, let's have it. You're acting very mysteriously. Has Guido run off with some wild-eyed filly?"

"Of course not," Julia said. "That would be something I could deal with myself. No, I'm really worried, Den. He's received a horrible, threatening letter."

Don showed his relief with a grin.

"My dear Julia, you mustn't worry about that kind of thing. People with Guido's type of money are always getting threatening letters. The world is full of jealous crackpots. It doesn't mean a thing."

"But I'm sure it does. This - this creature is demanding ten thousand pounds. He says if Guido doesn't pay up tonight..."

Her voice faltered. "He says he will kill him. It's horrible, Don."

Don frowned.

"Ten thousand? He's ambitious, isn't he? Have you the letter with you?"

"Guido threw it away. He just won't take it seriously. I wanted him to tell the police, but he won't hear of it. You know how obstinate he can be. He says this Tortoise is either a madman or someone pulling his leg ."

"Tortoise? What tortoise?"

"That's how the writer of the letter signs himself."

Don laughed.

"Well, there you are. He must be a crackpot. Now if he had signed himself the serpent or the wolf or something like that, there might be something in it. But a tortoise! Look, Julia, you mustn't fuss about this. Maybe it's one of Guido's racing pals playing a poor kind of joke."

Julia shook her head.

"That's what Guido says, but I don't believe it. He received the letter last Tuesday. I've been getting more and more worked up.

The money is to be paid tonight. Well, this morning... " She stopped, biting her lip.

"What happened this morning?" Julia tried unsuccessfully to control a little shiver. "We were at breakfast. I saw something moving on the floor. For a moment I thought it was a rat. It gave me an awful shock. Then I saw it was a tortoise. There was a piece of paper pasted across its shell. On the paper was a typewritten message. It said the ten thousand would be collected by a messenger at nine о 'clock tonight. If the money wasn't given to the messenger, Guido would die. Oh, Don, it really scares me. It's horrible."

"That seems to be carrying a joke rather far," Don said. "How did the tortoise get into the house?" "I don't know. I begged Guido to call the police, but he wouldn 't. He said if it got into the papers, everyone would laugh at him. You know how sensitive he is." Don rubbed his jaw. "What are you two doing tonight?"

"Guido wants to listen to Otello from the Scala on the radio. Don't you think we should tell the police?" Don hesitated, then shook his head.

"I think it would be a mistake as Guido is so set against it, Julia. A thing like this could get into the press and that type of publicity wouldn't be good for Guido. Let's face it. Suppose he did tell the police. What would they do? They might send a constable to guard the house, but one constable isn't going to stop a determined blackmailer if this chap is a blackmailer, which I doubt. I agree with you we should take precautions. I don't think for a moment there is any danger, but I can understand how you feel. I'll come along tonight with Harry. I'll tell Guido I was passing and dropped in on the off chance you two would be in. I'm quite sure nothing is going to happen, Julia, but I want to set your mind at rest.

Guido, Harry and I can more than take care of any crackpot. What do you say?"

Julia's face brightened.

"Of course. I know the whole thing is silly, but I would feel so much better if you did come. There's only Dixon and Ethel in the house. Perhaps you are right and nothing will happen, but if you were there..."

Don got to his feet.

"That's a bet. I'll be along soon after eight. Now don't worry any more. Have a nice lunch and put this out of your mind," he said as they walked into the hall. "I'll see you tonight."

Cherry appeared, pink and benign.

"I have ordered a taxi for Mrs Ferenci," he announced. "It is arriving now."

Julia gave him a bright smile. Watching her, Don was relieved to see how much better she looked.

"Thank you, Cherry," she said, and turning to Don, went on, "You don't know what a relief this is to me to know you will be with us tonight."

"You worry too much," Don said. "Put it out of your mind."

When the taxi had driven her away, Don went back to the lounge. He finished his drink and stood frowning out of the window.

The Tortoise.

Was there anything in this or was it a hoax? Were there any of Guido's friends capable of going to such lengths just to pull his leg? Don doubted it. A crackpot then?

After a moment's hesitation, he went over to the telephone and dialled Whitehall 22. It would do no harm, he told himself, to ask Chief Superintendent Dicks of the Special Branch if he had ever heard of anyone calling himself the Tortoise. When he finally got through to Dicks' office, he was told the Superintendent had just gone to lunch and was not expected back until six o'clock.

"Never mind," Don said. "No, there's no message."

Marian Rigby, Don's dark, attractive secretary, came hurrying into the lounge.

"There you are," she said. "You haven't forgotten you are lunching with Sir Robert at one?"

"I'm just off. Am I doing anything tonight, Marian?" "There's the film premiere. You promised to go." "Oh, that. Would you call them and tell them I can't make it?" He smiled. "I have a date with a gentleman who calls himself the Tortoise.

That sounds more exciting than a premiere, doesn't it?"

Guido Ferenci, tall and fair, his handsome face still deeply tanned from the sun of Portofino where Julia and he had been holidaying a few weeks previously, poured an 85 brandy into balloon glasses with a loving hand.

"Don't think for a moment you are hoodwinking me," he said as he gave Don one of the glasses. "This rot about passing and looking in for a drink is so much eyewash. Julia brougt you here to act as my bodyguard, didn't she?"

Don grinned.

"For a foreigner, he speaks beautiful English, doesn't he?" he said looking over at Julia. "I only wish I could speak Italian half as well."

"You speak Italian like a native," Julia said.

Guido looked affectionately at her.

"And that won't wash either. Never mind how well Don speaks Italian," he said, sinking into a big lounging chair opposite the one in which Don was sitting. "Now admit it: Julia persuaded you to come down to guard me, didn't she?

Well, it's nice of you to come, but don't tell me you take this joker seriously. How can anyone take him seriously? Ten thousand pounds! Where does Mr Tortoise imagine I can raise that a kind of money?"

Don lit a cigarette.

"I don't take it seriously, but on the other hand, there are a few dangerous crackpots around. This fellow seems to be carrying the joke rather far. What happened to the tortoise and the note on its back that arrived this morning? I'd like to have a look-see."

"So you shall. Dixon's looking after the tortoise," Guido said, getting up to ring the bell. "I have the note in my desk."

As he opened a drawer in the desk, Dixon, Guido's manservant, came in. Powerfully built, with a hard, strong face, he looked what he had been during the war: a quarter-master of a destroyer.

"Bring the tortoise in, will you?" Guido said. "Mr Micklem would like to inspect it."

"Very good, sir," Dixon said and gave Don a respectful nod.

"Now where's that note?" Guido said as Dixon left the room. "I put it in this drawer, but it's gone. Have you moved it, Julia?"

"No," Julia said, getting to her feet, "Let me look. You know you can never find anything."

"When you get married, Don, acquire the reputation of never finding anything," Guido said, sitting down and smiling.

"It saves endless hours of dreary searching. Julia always finds my things for me now."

"I'm not being very successful at the moment," Julia said. "It's not in the desk. Are you sure you didn't throw it away as you did the first note?"

"No. I put it in the top drawer," Guido said, frowning.

As he got to his feet Dixon came in.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but you haven't moved the tortoise, have you?"

Don felt the atmosphere suddenly tighten.

"Of course not," Guido said sharply.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's no longer in the box."

"Perhaps it has crawled out," Don said quietly.

"It couldn't have done that, sir. I put a lid on the box. Someone must have taken it."

"All right, Dixon. It doesn't matter," Guido said. "Just make sure it isn't crawling about the house."

"Yes, sir," Dixon said and went out.

Don glanced at Julia who was sitting motionless, her face pale.

"Well, this is a turn up for the book," said Guido who prided himself on his grasp of idiomatic English. "It looks as if the evidence has been pinched."

Although he spoke lightly, Don could see he was startled.

"Someone's been here," Julia said breathlessly. "What do you think, Don?" Guido asked. "I think your practical joker is carrying this much too far," Don said. "It might be an idea, Guido, to have a word with the police now."

Guido hesitated, then shook his head.

"No, I'm not going to do that. I can't afford the stupid publicity that is bound to follow. I've got the new board to think of No, I'm not going to call the police."

"But you must!" Julia cried. "You should have told them in the first place. You're in danger..."

"Don't get excited, Julia," Don said quietly. "I can see Guido's point. The newspapers would love a set-up like this.

After all, Guido is quite safe here. He's not alone. I'm here, and Dixon's within call. Besides, you forget Guido can more than look after himself. Hairy's outside watching the house. I told him what was in the wind, and he is keeping his eyes open. If we did call the police, they couldn't do any more than we are doing now..."

He broke off as the clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. Julia caught her breath sharply.

"The note said the messenger would come at nine!" she said, catching hold of Guido's hand.

"Darling Julia," Guido said. "There's nothing to be scared about. Of course no one will come."

Even as he spoke they heard the front door bell ring, and Julia jumped to her feet.

Guido put his arm around her. He glanced across at Don who had stiffened to attention.

The three stood motionless, listening. They heard Dixon cross the hall and open the front door. They heard a murmur of voices, then Dixon came into the room.

"There's a district messenger here, sir," he said to Guido. "He says he has come for a sealed package. What package would that be?"

Julia recoiled, her face going white.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Guido said angrily, and he took a step forward, but Don was before him.

"Stay with Julia," he said. "I'll handle this," and before Guido could argue, he walked into the hall, followed by Dixon.

Standing under the hall light was a sixteen-year-old boy, wearing a District Messenger's uniform.

"Sure you haven't made a mistake, son?" Don asked.

"I don't think so, sir," the boy returned and brought out his book. "Mr Ferenci, The Crest, Spaniards Avenue, Hampstead. One package to be collected. This is The Crest, isn't it?"

"That's right. What are your instructions? Where are you supposed to take the package?"

"To the Piccadilly Hotel, sir. A gentleman of the name of Montgomery will be waiting for it. I'm to give it to him and get a signature for it," the boy said.

Don studied him. He decided he was telling the truth.

"How are you to identify Mr Montgomery?"

The boy began to look bewildered.

"He will be wearing a white mackintosh and a black hat. Is there something up?"

Don shook his head.

"No. I'll get the package for you. Just wait here." He beckoned to Dixon. "Let's go into the kitchen," he said.

Looking as bewildered as the boy, Dixon led Don into the kitchen.

When Don had shut the door, he said, "Wrap up some folded newspapers in brown paper: about the size of a book."

His face blank with surprise, Dixon quickly made up the parcel and gave it to Don.

"That's fine," Don said approvingly.

He went back to where the boy was waiting and gave him the parcel.

"Here's what you do," he said. "I don't want you to get to the Piccadilly Hotel before ten o'clock. That's important. Give this package to Mr Montgomery and get his signature, but not before ten, do you understand?"

The boy nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, you get off," Don said and slipped a pound note into the boy's hand. "That's for keeping you out of bed."

The boy grinned.

"Thanks, sir. I'll do just as you say."

When he had gone, Don returned to the lounge where Guido and Julia sat side by side on the settee. Julia still looked frightened, but she had herself under control. Her hand gripped Guido's tightly.

"Well, it looks as if we have a crackpot on our hands," Don said, closing the door and coming over to the brightly burning fire. "He appears to be a Mr Montgomery, and he is waiting in the lounge of the Piccadilly Hotel for a district messenger to make him a present of your ten thousand pounds. I've made up a faked parcel, and the boy is going to deliver it. We must get the police on to this, Guido. It's got to be done. This fellow mustn't be encouraged. He could make himself a nuisance to others unless he is stopped. I'll call Dicks. He'll take care of him."

Guido shrugged.

"All right. Go ahead."

Don lifted the telephone receiver. He held it to his ear for a long moment, then frowning, he tapped the crossbar, listened, then laid down the receiver.

He realized with a feeling of shock that he had taken this business up to now far too casually.

"I should have guessed it wasn't going to be as easy as that," he said, his face hardening. "The line's dead."

"You mean someone's cut the line?" Julia said, starting to her feet.

"I don't know. There's no dialling tone. Where's the nearest telephone, Guido?"

"About half a mile down the road," Guido said. "Will you go or shall I send Dixon?"

Don moved over to the fireplace and stood with his back to it. He stared down at the carpet for a long moment.

"Don't let's rush this, Guido," he said.'"We haven't taken it seriously enough - at least we two haven't. We must be careful now not to be caught on the wrong foot again."

"Then you do think Guido is in danger?" Julia said, her eyes growing wide.

"I don't know," Don said, looking steadily at her, "but I think we should assume that he is and act accordingly. If this man really means business, it is quite unlikely that he will be at the Piccadilly Hotel. I was slow not to realize that when the boy told me where he was taking the package. If he does mean business, he'll probably waylay the boy before he reaches the station. I don't want to put the wind up either of you, but we must face up to the situation. One thing we must not do: we mustn't reduce our forces. This is a lonely spot; the road is dark and lonely and there are no other houses for quite a distance. If this crackpot is determined to make trouble he may try to stop us using an outside telephone. A lot depends on his mentality. What will he do when he finds the package contains useless newspapers ?

Will he give us rest and go home or will he try to make good his threat?"

Guido lit a cigarette. He seemed to be enjoying the situation.

"He would scarcely go to the trouble of putting the telephone out of order unless he intended to pay us a visit," he said.

Don nodded.

"Yes, I think we should be prepared for a visit." He smiled encouragingly at Julia. "It's-going to be all right. Don't look so scared. There are three able-bodied men in the house and one outside."

"Yes," Julia said unsteadily. She tried to match his smile, but didn't succeed.

"Let's get Dixon in and tell him what to expect," Don said. "I won't go out to Harry. He knows he has to keep his eyes open, and if the house is being watched, I should only give away his position.

We can rely on him to do the right thing at the right moment. But let's get Dixon in."

Guido rang the bell and when Dixon entered the room, he explained the situation.

Dixon took the news calmly.

"Well, sir ' he said, "I can't see him doing much damage with the three of us here, but if you like I'll have a crack at getting the police."

"No, we'll stick together," Don said. "The first move is to go over the house. We want to be sure no one has already broken in or can break in. Stay here with Mr Ferenci while I take a look around."

"I'm coming with you," Guido said.

"No, stay here with Julia, please," Don said firmly. "And you, Dixon, don't let Mr Ferenci out of your sight."

"Yes, sir," Dixon said.

Guido shrugged.

"All right I'll leave it to you, but watch out." He sat down, holding out his hand to Julia. "Come and sit with me, darling, and let's hold hands. We'll be laughing about this by tomorrow."

Dixon went across to the fireplace and picked up the poker. He balanced it in his hand, nodded his satisfaction and walked over to the door.

"No one will come in here, sir," he said to Don, "without an argument from me."

Don grinned.

"That's the idea. I won't be long. Keep the door closed. I'll call out when I come back."

He remembered there was a maid somewhere in the house and asked Dixon where she was.

"She's gone to the movies, sir. She won't be back until half-past ten."

"Right," Don said. "Then that leaves all the rooms except this one empty."

"That's right, sir."

Don closed the door. For a long moment he stood in the brightly lit hall and listened. The house was quiet. Faintly, he could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere upstairs and the irregular whirring noise from the refrigerator in the kitchen. He went swiftly and silently up the stairs to the upper landing.

His examination of the six rooms that led out on to the gallery was thorough. As he left each room, he locked the door after him. He didn't expect to find anyone lurking in the rooms and nor did he, but a growing sense of uneasiness worried him. He opened the sixth door and looked into the luxurious bathroom. There was no place for concealment there. He stepped out on to the gallery and moved to the banister rail to look down into the hall.

Then without warning the lights in the house went out. For a moment he stood motionless in the black suffocating darkness, cursing himself for not having a flashlight with him.

Then with his hand on the rail to guide him, he started towards the head of the stairs. He had only taken a few groping steps when he heard Julia's wild, terrified scream.

In the garden, close to the window of Guido's sitting-room, Shapiro had been waiting for Crantor, a mile or so away, to touch the high tension wires with the insulated pole he had with him.

Sweat ran down Shapiro's face as he waited. In his right hand he held the broad-bladed knife. Then suddenly he saw the lights that gleamed faintly through the curtains go out. He hooked his fingers under the window frame and pushed it up, then stepped back and waited.

The light breeze moved the curtains. He waited for perhaps ten or twenty seconds, then suddenly the curtains were pulled aside.

A tall man in evening dress stood before the open window as Crantor had said he would stand. The dim light of the cloud-covered moon fell directly on his white shirt front.

Shapiro raised the knife and his hand shot forward, sending the knife flying through the air. It was the easiest target he had ever had to aim at.

He heard the knife thud home, saw the fair man reel back, then he turned and ran around the side of the house to where he had left his car.

As he bolted into the darkness and as Don began a reckless dash down the stairs, Julia screamed again.