He said, “Yes… yes, this is Commandant Mirskov speaking, Captain James. He is with me now. Ah-ha.” He chuckled. “Yes, certainly… but speak to him for yourself.” Mirskov’s hand went tightly over the mouthpiece. He hissed, “Remember now.” He held the gun very steady as he passed the instrument to Shaw, sat close and watchful when Shaw got up and came round the desk to speak.
Shaw’s heart was thudding away painfully, suffocatingly, going like a war-drum as he took the receiver. He said, “Hullo. Shaw here. Oh — yes, sir.” As he spoke, he felt the pressure of Mirskov’s gun in his side, felt the man’s breath on his face. His glance flickered down momentarily, estimating Mirskov’s exact positioning. Into the phone he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that?”
He leaned forward casually, rested his elbow on Mirskov’s desk, bending, screwing up his eyes as though in a concentration of listening on a bad line. He said, “No, sir, it’s all right — now. No need to worry. That was just a misunderstanding…"
He was utterly relaxed now, his voice normal-sounding and easy; Mirskov appeared satisfied. And then, very suddenly, Shaw went into action.
He brought his elbow back sharply, viciously, putting all his strength into the movement. The elbow took Mirskov’s arm, sent the gun spinning, and in the same instant Shaw’s right hand came down on the heavy telephone base, brought it round, snapping the flex. He sent it crashing square into Mirskov’s face. The man fell back, spitting blood and teeth, his face a pulpy red mask of pain and uncontrollable fury. Then Shaw was on him, battering into the face with his fists.
Mirskov, however, was a fighter too, and he was considerably heavier than Shaw. He came back, fists pumping, came inside Shaw’s long reach and caught him a smashing blow on the jaw which sent the agent reeling backwards. Mirskov leapt for the desk and the bell-push, and Shaw got him just in time by the legs, dragged him back so that his head caught the edge of the desk as he fell. Mirskov kicked himself free and Shaw scrambled up. Mirskov came for him again, face contorted, murderous, breathing like a steam-engine. Stepping aside, Shaw picked up the man’s heavy chair, lifted it high and then smashed it down with bone-crunching force on Mirskov’s head.
It was all over then.
Panting, Shaw looked around for Mirskov’s gun, found it. He was bending to examine the man when he heard the door open. He jumped up. The A.D.C. was coming in, looking startled.
Shaw went forward fast, the gun lined up on the officer’s stomach. He hissed, “Keep still and shut up. Is the escort still out there?”
Dumbly, eyes wide and staring, the A.D.C. nodded. As he opened his mouth Shaw snapped at him:
“Go to the door, but stay inside the room. If you move one step away I swear I’ll kill you and explain later. Just tell the escort they won’t be wanted any more.”
The A.D.C. hesitated, his face flushed and scared. Shaw went nearer. The young man took just one close look into his eyes and then he turned quickly and went to the door. Shaw kept out of sight. When the A.D.C. had dismissed the escort, he turned slowly. Shaw snapped: “The door. Shut it.” When the man had obeyed, he said: “Now listen. Your Commandant’s behind the desk. You probably won’t believe what I’m going to tell you, but you’ll find it’s confirmed before long. Briefly, your Commandant’s in the pay of a power acting against the interests of MAPIACCIND. I am an officer of the British Naval Intelligence acting on orders from London. You can—”
He broke off as the internal telephone rang, and his heart thumped. That might be the Bandagong private exchange, wondering about the break in the call from Sydney. James would be trying to get through again… but the call could be overheard in the exchange, and he couldn’t take the risk of speaking to James now. He pushed the gun into the A.D.C.’s side, snapped: “Answer that. If it’s the exchange, tell ’em the Commandant’s outside line is out of order, but he’s not to be disturbed by workmen until further notice. Stall ’em off.”
The A.D.C. took up the phone, listened. Then he said to Shaw, “There is a Captain James—”
“Say he’s to be told I’m on my way to Sydney and I’ll ring him from the airfield. Go on.” He nudged with the gun. The A.D.C. passed the message and rang off. Shaw said, “Now, where’s Karstad?”
The A.D.C. swallowed. “He has gone. I swear I do not know where.”
“You’re quite sure you don’t?”
The young officer said earnestly, “I know nothing of his movements, except that he has gone.”
Shaw looked into his eyes, nodded. “All right, I’ll accept that. Are you prepared to believe me, and do as I say?”
“I–I cannot believe you, I—”
“You can forget your loyalty to Mirskov. He’ll hang. Anyone else in the racket’ll hang too. That goes for any accessories — you, for instance, if you don’t co-operate. Believe me, I’m telling you God’s truth, laddie! And I don’t think you ever really believed I was an impostor.” Shaw’s face was wet with sweat. “Anyhow, time’s short, so you’re just going to have to do as I say.” He gestured with the gun towards the internal phone. He said, “Ring the hall-porter at the main entrance. Tell him to get transport here immediately.”
When the A.D.C. had done this, Shaw rasped: “Now ring the sergeant of the guard on the cells, tell him I’m in the clear and he’s to hand all my papers and other possessions to the porter for my collection. And that includes my revolver and holster which you took away. They’ve got to be there in… two minutes. Orders from the Commandant himself.”
The A.D.C. passed the message, then faced Shaw. He asked, “What do you want of me now?”
“You’ll come with me, laddie, and pass me through the main gate. In the hall here, you’ll leave word that the Commandant’s not to be disturbed on any account whatever.” He added crisply, “I’ll be right behind you with a gun all the time and believe me, I just can’t wait to use it!”
Within the two minutes all Shaw’s possessions were handed back to him by an unsuspecting hall-porter and then they got into a jeep which had pulled up at the bottom of the steps.
They drove down to the floodlit gates, Shaw, in the back, keeping his gun hidden in his pocket but with his hand on it ready to shoot.
At the main gate a guard stepped forward, weapon ready, and the jeep stopped. Shaw held his breath, kept his fingers crossed, though he appeared relaxed and easy. The guard approached the vehicle, asked the A.D.C.
“Where for, sir?”
“On personal duty for the Commandant.”
The sentry gave the A.D.C. a smart salute and stepped back. The jeep’s driver engated his gears and they drove slowly through the gate, out of Bandagong, heading for the R.A.A.F. airfield. Shaw’s heart lightened; there wasn’t far to go now.
They were still heading fast for the airfield when a bright light beamed out along the track behind them and then just a moment later the firing started and they heard the high-pitched scream of a fast vehicle. Evidently somebody had been worried about the Commandant after all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The speed had dropped a little as the startled driver looked into his mirror. Shaw jabbed his gun into the driver’s neck and snapped: “Keep going.” The jeep shot forward again.
Before they had covered more than a further couple of hundred yards there was a loud report from their rear and the jeep staggered to one side, slewed round and ran off the road, bumping and jerking until it shuddered to a stop on hard, baked ground.
Before it had fully stopped Shaw had jumped out and was running hard into the darkness, away from the probing headlight beams and the bullets which snicked across at random in his general direction. He heard men’s hoarse shouts, the sounds of pursuit behind him. He stopped to fire back, then ran on again, fired another burst a minute later. Shortly afterwards he turned a little towards the road ahead of the jeep, in the direction of the R.A.A.F. station. He was panting and dead weary, but he forced himself on. Everything now depended on his getting away clear and reaching the airfield. He could see the landing lights on the long runways, the vague outlines of the planes and buildings ahead… so near, he thought, and yet just too far.