“Your boss has employed me to winkle out an impostor who looks exactly like him and who’s been taking his place here, there, and everywhere. But I’ve reason to believe that he’s the impostor himself.”
Simon waited while his words sank in; and the girl, as he had expected, looked at him as if at a lunatic child who had just asserted that the moon was made entirely of peanut butter.
“I expect you know the ancient Greek legend of the Minotaur,” he went on soothingly. “This was a monster, half man and half bull, who lived in a maze of caves in Crete, and lived by gobbling up human sacrifices who were sent in to feed him. One of these was eventually a bloke named Theseus, who just happened to have made it with the daughter of the king. When his turn came, she gave him a spool of thread to reel out behind him. Theseus killed the Minotaur, and found his way out of the labyrinth by following the thread back. You were named after her — Ariadne. Now, you could help me find my way out of this crazy maze.”
“But that’s quite ridiculous!” she exclaimed as soon as she had found her voice. “Mr Patroclos — an impostor? Do you think I don’t know him after five years?”
“Believe me, this is no ordinary impostor.” The Saint’s cool voice sounded so reasonable that she was compelled almost against her will to give it a hearing. “This, even though I doubted the proposition myself, is what might justifiably be called the perfect impostor. The copy and the original are very nearly impossible to tell apart. And I know,” he added. “I’ve seen them both.”
“But it’s unbelievable. How could—”
The girl’s next words were masked by a ferocious bull-like bellow from the library, and they heard Patroclos Two screaming down the telephone.
“Impossible! Quite impossible! I tell you, I sent no such message!”
Simon followed Ariadne into the library. Patroclos Two was in an almost uncontrollable rage, thumping a fist on the desk in time with his words.
“I don’t care! Check again... Then double check, you fool!.. Of course I’ll countermand it. Just as soon as I can make out a coded message. Do it then. Ring me back — and hurry!”
Patroclos Two’s eyes blazed and he slammed down the phone.
“Ariadne — upstairs, the safe. Get my codebook.”
He threw her the bunch of keys from his pocket, and she hurried off. Patroclos Two paced back and forth with a ferociously indignant expression on his face.
“Why? Why?”
“What’s happened?” asked the Saint calmly.
“Six cargo ships — on their way to Singapore. In mid-ocean, suddenly they change course, for an unknown destination. Unknown to me. Who ordered it? The Communications Office say I did — from Athens. Me! But I am here!”
The Saint went very still.
“Then it’s obvious, isn’t it,” he said quietly, “that the other you is there.”
Patroclos Two stared at him.
“No, no... Even he...” he seemed to consider for a moment. “Without my personal code—”
“What are these ships carrying?” the Saint interrupted, ignoring Patroclos Two’s mention of the codebook.
“Who cares what they are carrying?”
“It seems he does.”
“Oh — agricultural machinery... a little paint, fertilisers...
Ariadne burst in, breathless.
“The codebook — it isn’t there, sir.”
“Of course it’s there,” said Patroclos impatiently. “You returned it to the safe yourself only yesterday.”
Ariadne looked almost guilty.
“But it’s not there now. I checked thoroughly.”
He stared at her, eyes blazing again, then grabbed the keys from her hand and strode from the room. Simon shook his head, chuckling. “Tremendous act your boss puts on. You should try and persuade him to go on the stage. Put it to him that he owes it to the world. As it is, he’s denying the theatre public so much fabulous talent.”
“But this is serious! If the codebook is missing — and I did put it back—”
She rushed out in Patroclos Two’s wake still almost visible, and the Saint followed. They found him in the bedroom raking all the papers out of the safe and on to the floor of the wardrobe. He glared around as they came into the room; and then he turned on the Saint, and there were little red specks of anger burning in the cores of his eyes.
“You!” he shouted, stabbing a sudden accusing finger. “You took the codebook! That cable from Athens—”
The Saint clapped politely.
“Bravo. Beautiful lines, beautifully delivered.”
“You’re working for the other side!”
Ariadne looked helplessly from one man to the other: from the squat powerful figure of Diogenes Patroclos (or was it his double?) with his musketball eyes and livid expression, to Simon Templar, calm and smiling and insolent. And the Saint’s voice floated coolly across the room with a challenge that was dazzlingly simple and which he knew Patroclos Two would be unable to refuse with credibility.
“Whether I’m working for him or not”, he pointed out, “it seems clear that the other Patroclos is in Athens. Why aren’t we there, knocking hell out of him?”
And in the pause that followed, he could almost hear the whirring of gears in Patroclos Two’s brain, as the mogul considered the implications of that logical proposal. For perhaps a minute he stood silent, with his head tilted slightly to one side as if to give him a new perspective on the Saint; and then he nodded thoughtfully,
“Of course, Templar. As I should have expected, you are absolutely right.” He turned briskly to Ariadne. “How soon can my plane be ready?”
“It was having an engine overhaul, you remember. It was supposed to be finished tomorrow.”
“Well contact the pilot at once. They will have to work overtime and finish tonight. We will face this confounded impostor first thing tomorrow. Pack your bags. And cancel all my appointments. Nothing is as important as this!”
10
Patroclos’ private plane was faster than the aircraft in commercial service, and it landed in Athens, after a refuelling stop in Milan, only eight hours after leaving London. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning there.
“Our arrival at the office must be a complete surprise.” said Patroclos Two as he hailed a taxi outside the airport. “Obviously we cannot afford to alert the impostor and give him a chance to escape.”
Simon Templar raised an eyebrow.
“And what do you propose to do if by some chance he isn’t there?”
“We must follow!” Patroclos Two’s tone was vehement. “Wherever he goes, we will follow. Now that we have begun, now that we are on his trail, this man must be finally tracked down and confronted!”
“And of course,” added the Saint wearily, “you’ll be wanting to get your codebook back before you arrange to have this double of yours chucked into the sea. If he has it, that is.”
Patroclos Two’s face was expressionless.
“And you, Templar. If I find that my suspicions are justified — that you have been working for him as well as me... well, I will have to decide what to do when the time comes. But you should know that Diogenes Patroclos is never double-crossed with impunity!”
Ariadne Two seemed totally confused by recent events, and had said practically nothing during the flight. The Saint supposed that she was doing some hard thinking of her own. She appeared to have been genuinely surprised when he had told her about the Patroclos double; and he had little doubt that before long she would receive several further jolts to her system.