“Very,” Shaw agreed drily. “By the way, I suppose you don’t know what happened to Wicks and Fawcett, do you — did you pick up anything from the police?”
Henderson shook his head regretfully. “Not a thing, old man — they were being very cagey about that.” He frowned. “I just happened to overhear a chance remark here and there, you know — I do speak Russian moderately well, or rather I can understand it without too much difficulty.”
Shaw raised an eyebrow. “And…?”
“Well, I rather think they have been written off as lost in the swamp, and your good selves as well, I fancy, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Moscow insisted on extending the search for Wicks and Fawcett, in view of what happened in Warsaw as well as at the road check. The MVD know it was those two who caused the crash, there was plenty of evidence as to that, and then if they are involved in this goldsmuggling racket—”
“Gold smuggling?” To the best of Shaw’s knowledge, Henderson shouldn’t know anything about that, so the revelation could be interesting. “How d’you mean?”
Henderson paused briefly while he overtook another truck. Then he said, “That was something else I overheard, but again I’ve no details. But what I mean is, if that’s their game-those two — then someone’s surely going to check pretty thoroughly that they’re not still around somewhere, if you follow me.” He added, “It’s fairly clear they were mixed up in something like that, the way they pulled those guns and caused the smash.”
Shaw nodded. “They’re morally murderers now.” He paused. “By the way… I suppose we may get more spot checks between here and Moscow?”
Henderson gave a knowing laugh. “If we do, my dear fellow, we needn’t worry! Worth Butters is seeing to it that this car gets a cleared route into Moscow. We’ll have to halt for them if they’re putting on a check, of course, but I’m told they won’t bother us unduly.”
“I only hope you’re right,” Shaw murmured, “seeing our passports went out of the window.”
“Oh, good heavens, yes! I was forgetting… well, if we are stopped you’d better both lie low. The seats in the back lift up, you know, and there’s plenty of room for two.” He added, “Actually, the police gave my passport back. I dare say you’ll get yours through the Embassy.”
“That’s what we’re hoping. We’ll have to contact our Embassies to get our position regularized, of course. Meanwhile you don’t mind taking the risk to yourself?”
“In taking you aboard without papers?” Henderson grinned and hunched his shoulders over the wheel. “It’s an adventure, my dear fellow — an adventure! If there’s any trouble Worth-Butters will square it.”
“I hope so,” Shaw said non-committally. “Well — it’s very decent of you and we appreciate it.” He yawned again; he was having difficulty in keeping his eyes open. “If you don’t mind I’d like to get some sleep, and so would Miss MacKinlay.”
“I’m so sorry — of course,” Henderson braked and pulled the car into the side of the road. As Shaw reached out for the door handle, Henderson said, “There’s a folding table fitted into the back of the front seat, and if you open the panel on the right you’ll find whisky and glasses.”
Shaw pulled down the blinds on the glass behind Hartley Henderson and flipped on the electric fights. He checked on the locker-like space below the upholstered seats; there was room provided they hadn’t to spend too long in confinement. Letting down the seat again, he said thoughtfully. “Maybe Henderson was genuine when he said he’d overheard about the gold smuggling and maybe he wasn’t.”
Virginia looked at him quizzically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged and began looking for the whisky. “Possibly nothing. Only I’ve a feeling he didn’t really mean to come out with any mention of gold. That’s all. But even if I’m right I’m still not sure where it leads us.”
He poured two big shots of whisky and took his own in a gulp. They both felt considerably better after that. Virginia didn’t make any fiirther comment on the gold business. She lit a cigarette and blew smoke from her nostrils, but she was asleep before she’d taken more than three puffs. Gently, Shaw removed the cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out in an ashtray. Then he snapped off the overhead light and closed his eyes, sitting back at ease in a comfortable corner with his legs stretched right out while Hartley Henderson drove on fast for Smolensk and Moscow.
Tired as he was, Shaw couldn’t drop off quite so readily that night as Virginia MacKinlay. He was more than conscious of the time factor, though he knew he had a good chance now of reaching Moscow before Wicks and Fawcett or anyone else who had been on the coach. Except, of course, Hartley Henderson. Henderson, who was in one hell of a hurry to get to Moscow, Henderson, who wasn’t exactly a young man and had come through a coach crash and been knocked out, who surely ought to be feeling the strain, who ought not to welcome the idea of driving on through the night, along the 400-mile route to the Capital of All the Russias?
Wasn’t there, in fact, a strongish smell around somewhere?
Shaw opened his eyes and looked out through a side window. Henderson was still driving fast. From what Shaw had seen of the man earlier, he’d appeared relaxed enough… scarcely like someone who was bashing on through the night for the purpose of assassinating a prominent member of the foreign government. Besides, Worth-Butters wouldn’t like that… suddenly, Shaw grinned to himself as the car rushed on, its excellent springing at last inducing a warm, comfortable drowsiness. Henderson had already spoken of an adventure; he was possibly — probably, in fact — doing no more than indulging a fancy, turning the whole thing into a kind of comfortably arranged escapade; the middle-aged university professor making a boyhood dream come true behind the wheel of a diplomatic car speeding through the Russian night with a fellow-countryman and an attractive American girl… fugitives from the MVD! what a talking-point that could become — and how Henderson would bore the Senior Common Room with constant repetition of it when he returned to the fold in his quiet, eventless university.
A few moments later, Shaw was asleep.
It was broad daylight when he awoke to find Virginia’s head almost in his lap. He smiled down at her, keeping still so as not to disturb her. She looked very young, almost child-like, in sleep, with her lips slightly parted and her face untroubled. The gash on her head had formed a scab; It didn’t look too angry. She’d be able to keep it concealed by some small re-arrangement of her hair-do. Shaw rubbed at the misted window alongside him and looked out into a bleak, depressing drizzle falling blanket-like over barren country stretching for miles on either hand until, away ahead, it merged into roofs and chimneys: Smolensk. There would be hotels in Smolensk where they could get breakfast, but Shaw wasn’t risking it. Russian hotels were hot stuff at demanding papers from their patrons and, while they might not bother unduly except in the case of overnight guests, it still wasn’t worth a Westerner taking chances — as he told Henderson when, a few minutes later, the latter stopped the car and asked about a meal.