He didn’t say anything for a moment. He sat there, staring at me and toying with his glass, his eyes searching my face as though looking for something inside me that he wasn’t sure existed. At length he said, ‘You remember Alec Reece?’
I jumped to my feet, knocking over my drink. Reece! Why the hell did he have to talk about Reece? Reece was dead anyway. He’d died trying to escape. So had Shirer. They were both dead. I didn’t want to think about Reece. I’d introduced him to Maxwell — got him the job. He’d been so desperately keen to succeed on that first mission to the partigiani. He was the part of me I wanted to forget — Reece and his sister Alice. Sentences from that last letter of hers ran in a confused jumble through my head. / wanted to be proud of you…. I have forgiven you, but you must see that it is impossible…. I fumbled on the carpet for my glass, picked it up and reached for the bottle. But Maxwell took it from my hand and placed it on the other side of the table. ‘Sit down, Dick,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise—’
‘What didn’t you realise?’ I cut in. ‘Didn’t you know I was engaged to Alice Reece, that she broke it off when she knew? Why do you think I cracked up like that? A man’s mind doesn’t go—’ I stopped then. The room was beginning to spin and I sat down quickly. ‘She thought I killed him,’ I heard myself saying slowly. ‘And the hell of it is, she was right. To all intents and purposes—’
‘Alec Reece is alive,’ he said.
I stared at him. ‘Alive?’
He nodded.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘And — and Shirer?’ I asked.
‘He’s alive too. Didn’t you know?’
I shook my head.
‘He stayed on in Italy and bought a vineyard. He’s living …’
I didn’t hear the rest. A great load seemed to have been lifted from me. I put my head in my hands and let that feeling of relief flood through me. When I became conscious that he was shaking me, I realised that I was crying. I felt the rim of a glass against my mouth. The drink seemed to steady me. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘I didn’t know you were engaged to Alice Reece,’ he said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted Reece to get that job on his merits. I was afraid you’d think—’ I stopped and shrugged my shoulder. ‘It doesn’t matter now. But I thought they were dead — both of them. That’s what they told me at H.Q. I thought I’d killed—’ He shook me then and I pulled myself together. ‘Why did you ask me about Reece?’ I asked him.
He paused uncertainly. Then he said quietly, ‘He and I are both in Intelligence still. He’s waiting in Milan now for me to—’
‘In Milan?’ I had a sudden, awful vision of our meeting face to face. I’d have to miss out Milan. Somehow I’d have to persuade my firm…. But Maxwell had caught hold of my arm. ‘Pull yourself together, Dick. I’m trying to tell you something. I need your help. Listen. You represent B. & H. Evans, machine tool manufacturers of Manchester. That gives you an excuse to visit any of the big industrialists in this town. Jan Tucek is here in Pilsen. Remember Jan Tucek, who commanded the Czech squadron at Biggin Hill in 1940?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I saw him this afternoon.’
‘You saw him this afternoon?’ He cursed softly. ‘Then you’ll have to see him again. I daren’t go there. And I daren’t go to his home either. He’s too closely watched. My contacts are with Czech air force men. But I’ve got to get a message to him. As soon as I heard you were—’
Tunny,’ I said. ‘He gave me a message for you.’
Maxwell was suddenly tense. ‘What was the message?’ he asked quickly.
‘I was to tell you — Saturday night,’ I answered.
He nodded. ‘The trouble is that that isn’t soon enough. It’s got to be tomorrow night. You’ve got to see him and tell him that. Tomorrow night — understand? Thursday night.’ He was leaning forward, drumming it into me as though he thought I was too drunk to understand what he was saying. ‘Can you see him first thing tomorrow morning? It’s urgent, Dick — very, very, urgent. Do you understand?’
I nodded.
‘Can you see him tomorrow morning?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Maric, the head of their tool section, is ringing me tomorrow morning. I should be able to make an appointment with him for the afternoon.’
‘All right then. The afternoon. But you’ve got to see Tucek. Tell him Saturday may be too late. It must be tomorrow night — Thursday. Understand? You know the bookshop just opposite here, on the corner?’ I nodded. ‘I’ll be there at five. Don’t talk to me openly. Just tell me whether it’s okay or not as you pass. Got that?’
I nodded.
‘Don’t fail me, Dick.’ He knocked back the rest of his drink and got to his feet. ‘Good luck!’ he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. ‘See you tomorrow at five.’
As he turned to go, I said, ‘Wait a minute, Max. What is all this? Is Jan Tucek in trouble?’
‘Ask no questions,’ he murmured.
‘Are you getting him out of the country — is that it?’ I demanded.
He swung round on me angrily. ‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake.’
‘Is that’s what’s happening?’ I persisted in a lower voice.
‘I’m telling you nothing, Dick. It’s best if—’
‘You mean you don’t trust me,’ I accused him angrily.
He looked at me. ‘If you like to take it that way, but—’ He shrugged his shoulders and then added, ‘Would you mind having a look out in the corridor to see if it’s all clear?’
I opened the door and peered out. The corridor was empty. I nodded to him. He went quickly down to the end and turned right. I went back to my room, closed the door and emptied the remains of the bottle into my glass.
By the time I went to bed I was very drunk — drunk and happy. Reece was alive. Shirer was alive. I hadn’t killed them, after all. I managed to unstrap my leg and get most of my clothes off. Then when I’d fallen into bed, I suddenly had a feeling that I had made a mistake in the report I’d been working on earlier in the evening. I rolled out of bed, switched on the light and got the report out of my suitcase. The last thing I remember was trying to decipher the blur of writing through eyelids that kept on shutting out my vision.
I awoke to a blinding light on my eyes. I remembered that I had fallen asleep with the light on and put out my hand to switch it off. It was then that I discovered that the light was off and that it was the sun shining on my face. I sat up, trying to separate the roar of traffic outside the window from the noises in my head and wondering when during the night I had switched off the light. I looked at my watch. It was only seven-thirty and no servant would have been in the room yet. At some time during the night I must have wakened and switched it off. I lay in the bright sunlight thinking about Maxwell. His visit seemed unreal, like a dream.
I was called at eight-thirty. As soon as I was dressed I went down to breakfast. In the entrance hall I stopped to buy a paper. ‘Good morning,pane.’ It was the night porter. He was just putting on his outdoor things and his face had a confidential smirk. I paid for my paper and turned away. But before I was halfway across the room, the man was at my side. He was still struggling into his overcoat. ‘I hope you did not mind my letting a visitor up to your room so late,’ he said.
I stopped and glanced down at him. He was a little, rat-faced man with bulging blue eyes and a thin, greedy mouth. ‘Nobody came to my room last night,’ I said.
He shrugged the padded shoulders of his overcoat. ‘Just as pana says.’ He stood there and it was perfectly clear what he was waiting for. I cursed Maxwell for having been so careless. He must have mistaken my hesitation, for he added, ‘One o’clock is very late for an Englishman to receive visitors in a hotel in Czechoslovakia.’