Higgins applied some butter to a cracker. ‘Oh, remind me Alex, before we leave, I have some invitations for you and Arthur, to attend the start of the Transatlantic Air Race, at St Pancras Station, next week.’
Swan gave the burly Air Commodore, a surprised look. ‘I’m sorry Sir Alistair, but did you say, St Pancras Station?’
Higgins smiled. ‘Yes, I thought that might throw you. The pilot is going to fly out in a Harrier jump jet, from a coal yard at the back of the station. There’s a small reception, at The Top of The Tower restaurant. You know? The place that revolves in the Post Office Tower, and then we’ll be taken by car to watch him take off for the States.’
‘That sounds terrific, Sir Alistair.’
Higgins nodded. ‘Yes, it’s all to commemorate the 1919 crossing by Alcock and Brown, in their Vickers Vimy bomber. Ten years ago, the RAF won, with their Hunter and Valiant combination. This year, the Navy boys are using one of their new American Phantoms, and flying out from New York to Heathrow, but personally, I think that we’ve got the edge again, what with Lecky Thompson flying the specially adapted Harrier, straight out of the heart of the city, to meet with a Victor refuelling tanker, somewhere over the Atlantic. Still, it should be a good race.’
Higgins coughed and Swan looked at him with concern, noticing that his friend was gesturing to something behind him. Alerted to sudden voices, Swan quickly glanced around at the party of men, walking over to a nearby table; spotting someone, who he was more than familiar. He rose from his chair to greet him. ‘Dennis, dear chap, how the devil are you?’
Dennis Martin, Assistant Head of Section A of MI5, smiled. ‘Alex Swan as I live and breathe.’ He looked Swan up and down, and relaxed himself into his chair at the table next to them, enquiring into what the two men had been doing for the morning. Swan informed him about the fishing and the catch, they had just eaten for lunch.
Martin gave them a thin smile. ‘That’s splendid, chaps. To be honest, I shouldn’t really be here today. Stratton’s gone to France for the weekend, to meet with his opposite number in their security service. He’s even taken my secretary with him. You will remember Janet Ross, of course, from R Section? Well, she’s working for me now. And, bloody damn efficient she is too.’
Higgins shot a glance at Swan, who quickly winked at him in response. Swan knew that Martin was baiting him, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of realising that the MI5 man’s little hook had been swallowed.
Martin continued, ‘so I guess, that I’m left with holding up the pillars of Curzon Street. I had this shoot planned for months, so should Leconfield House start to crumble, they’ll know where to reach me. Martin turned to Swan. ‘So, Alex, what are you working on? A little dickey tells me, your address was found on this old Nazi rocket chap, Karl Ruger.’
Swan straightened himself, knowing Martin was fishing for information. ‘Yes, so in the light of that, Arthur and I, have offered our services to Scotland Yard, and are considering it.’
‘Is that so? Anything to go on yet?’
Swan decided to play his cards close to his chest. ‘Not much Dennis. I’m thinking of going down to Highdown where Ruger was working and having a look around there. However, right now, Arthur and I have very few leads. The police did find a second bullet though, embedded in the woodwork of the jetty, down at Battersea.’
Martin nodded. ‘Yes, well I’m sure that something will come out of that,’ he sniggered. ‘After all, the old Weasel of MI5, always prevailed, didn’t he?’
Swan laughed. ‘Yes, I did seem to get the results, I wanted, didn’t I Dennis.’
Higgins suddenly displayed a puzzled look. ‘Weasel, Alex?’
Martin smiled. ‘Yes, didn’t you know, Sir Alistair? Alex here, when he was head of Section A, was known as, The Weasel of MI5; he always sniffed out his man, or woman for that matter, in the most cunning of ways.’
Higgins looked at Swan in admiration, causing him to become slightly embarrassed by the whole thing. Realising that his friend was now beginning to feel uncomfortable with Martin’s banter, he rose from the table. ‘Well, I think we’ll go and have that game of billiards now, Alex.’ He turned to Martin and his friends, who remained seated. ‘Nice seeing you again, gentlemen. Enjoy your lunch.’
Swan gestured to them with a friendly nod of his head. ‘Please give my regards to John, when you see him, Dennis.’
Martin picked up the menu and perused the contents. ‘I will Alex, nice to see you again.’
Swan marched out and caught up with the Air Commodore, in the hallway. Higgins turned to his friend and whispered. ‘Alex, you rogue. You didn’t tell me that your good lady was Martin’s secretary.’
Swan gave a cynical smirk. ‘No, I didn’t, did I? Thanks for not mentioning it, back there, old boy. Especially, as he tried to push on it. Best keep that one to ourselves. At least for now. But, I’m sure that it won’t be long, before it’s all out of the bag. Then, I will give anything, just to see Martin’s face.’
The two men laughed, as they made their way into the Billiard Room.
Chapter 9
At the Fleischer & Hoch factory in Ahrensburg, Gunther Fleischer answered the phone in his office, and listened, as his agent code named Falcon, frantically informed him of the incident at Highdown.
‘Mein Gott,’ Fleischer exclaimed. He thought for a moment, thinking how he would deal with this. He realised that there was only one thing he could do. ‘Okay, I suggest that you try to act as normal as you can. You must remain calm. I will send two men to pick you up on Monday. Where can they collect you?’ He reached for a notepad on his desk, and wrote, as he listened. ‘Okay, that is good. You will rendezvous with my men, at five pm, at this place. From the latest news reports, I think we can safely say, as far as the space programme goes for the British, it is dead now anyway. Your work is done my friend. I will re-assign you, and take you out of England. By the time the police work out what has happened, you will be here in Ahrensburg. Please try to be calm, and remember your duties. I will speak with you again, when you get to Ahrensburg.’
Fleischer put down the receiver, muttered something under his breath, and picked it up again to dial a London number. After two rings, it was answered. Fleischer spoke softly. ‘This is Merlin, I need you both to go to Location BR1, and eliminate Falcon. I repeat, eliminate Falcon. He will meet you at five pm, on Monday at the sign for the rocket site on the main road, the A3054, and please do not mess this up, this time. Make it look like a suicide.’ Fleischer put his hand down on the cradle, then dialled another number.
At the Furrows, Swan crouched on the green carpet of the new bowling hall, holding a bowl in his hand, staring down the green, studying the bowls already huddled around the jack.
With a flick of his wrist, he released the bowl and walked alongside it, as it rolled down the left side of the artificial field, and then started to curve its way inwards, towards the little white ball. It started to slow, eventually coming to rest in front of one of his earlier bowls. Swan returned and smiled at Higgins, who raised an eyebrow to commend his opponent.
‘My, that was an excellent wood, Alex, and you say that you’ve never played before, which I guess makes you a natural, dear boy.’
Swan nodded, holding up his arm ‘It’s all in the wrist action, I think, Sir Alistair.’
Higgins took up his last bowl. ‘I think some drastic action is called for, if I’m to win this one back, what?’ He stood staring at the delivered bowls, and swinging back his arm, quickly released it, watching, as the black sphere, rolled fast, straight up the middle of the carpet, heading directly for Swan’s two bowls that were shrouding the jack. On arrival, Higgins’s bowl, smashed into both of Swan’s, sending them diagonally in two directions, shooting past it. After the impact, the gleaming bowl came to rest in front of the little white wooden ball, slightly nudging it. Contented with his shot, the Air Commodore raised his arms in triumph.