He dialed.
«Beaumont residence.» A male voice was on the line.
«Mrs. Beaumont, please.»
«May I ask who’s calling?»
«A friend of the commander. I heard Mrs. Beaumont was leaving today to join him. I’d like her to take a message to him.»
«Who is this, please?»
Noel replaced the receiver. He did not know who had answered the phone; he knew only that he needed help. Professional help. It was possibly dangerous for Geneva to seek it, but it was necessary. He would be cautious—very cautious—and learn what he could.
He rummaged through his jacket pockets for the card given him by the MI-Five man at the Belgravia Arms. There was only a name—Harold Payton-Jones—and a telephone number. The clock on the wall read ten minutes to seven; Noel wondered if anyone would answer the phone. He placed the call to London.
«Yes?»
«This is Holcroft.»
«Oh, yes. We wondered if you’d ring up.»
Noel recognized the voice. It was the gray-haired intelligence agent from the hotel. «What are you talking about?» Noel said.
«You’ve had a difficult night,» the voice said.
«You expected me to call! You were there. You were watching!»
Payton-Jones did not respond directly. «The rented car’s at a garage in Aldershot. It should be repaired by noon. The name’s easily remembered; it’s Boot’s. Boot’s Garage, Aldershot. There’ll be no charge, no bill, no receipt.»
«Wait a minute! What the hell is this? You had me followed! You had no right to do that.»
«I’d say it was a damned good thing we did.»
«You were in that car at three o’clock this morning! You went into Beaumont’s house!»
«I’m afraid we weren’t and we didn’t.» The MI-Five man paused briefly. «And if you believe that, then you didn’t get a very good look at them, did you?»
«No. Who were they?»
«I wish we knew. Our man got there closer to five.»
«Who ran after me? Who bashed my head in and left me in that goddamned field?»
Again the agent paused. «We don’t know anything about that. We knew only that you had left. In a hurry, obviously, your car immobilized.»
«It was a setup! I was the pigeon!»
«Quite so. I’d advise you to be more cautious. It’s both tasteless and dangerous to take advantage of the wife of a commander in the Royal Navy while her husband’s at sea.»
«Bullshit! The commander’s no more at sea than I am! He was on a plane to Rio less than two weeks ago. I saw him! He’s got something to do with the Von Tiebolts.»
«Most assuredly,» replied Payton-Jones. «He married the oldest daughter. As to his being on an aircraft two weeks ago, it’s preposterous. He’s been in the Mediterranean for the past three months.»
«No! I saw him! Listen to me. There was a photograph in the bedroom. I took it. It was him! And something else. There was writing on the back. In German.»
«What did it say?»
«I don’t know. I don’t speak German. But it’s goddamned unusual, don’t you think?» Holcroft stopped. He had not meant to go this far. In his anger, he had lost his control!
Goddamn it!
«What’s unusual?» asked the agent. «German is Mrs. Beaumont’s native tongue; the family’s spoken it for years. An endearing phrase, words of devotion to or from her new husband? Not unusual at all.»
«I guess you’re right,» said Noel, backing off. Then he realized he had retreated too quickly. The MI-Five man was suspicious; Noel could sense it in his next words.
«On second thought, perhaps you should bring the photograph to us.»
«I can’t. I don’t have it.»
«I thought you said you took it.»
«I don’t have it now. I … I just don’t have it.»
«Where are you, Holcroft? I think you should drop in and see us.»
Without consciously making the decision, Noel pressed down the lever, severing the connection. The act preceded the thought, but once it was done, he understood clearly why he did it. He could not ally himself with MI Five, he could not solidify any relationship whatsoever. On the contrary, he had to get as far away from British Intelligence as was possible. There could be no association at all. MI Five had followed him. After they had told him they would leave him alone, they had gone back on their word.
The survivors of Wolfsschanze had spelled it out: There are those who may learn of the work in Geneva … who will try to stop you, deceive you … kill you.
Holcroft doubted that the British would kill him, but they were trying to stop him. If they succeeded, it was as good as killing him. The men of Wolfsschanze did not hesitate.
Peter Baldwin, Esq. Ernst Manfredi. Jack. All dead.
The men of Wolfsschanze would kill him if he failed. And that was the terrible irony. He did not want to fail. Why couldn’t they understand that? Perhaps more than the survivors of Wolfsschanze, he wanted to see Heinrich Clausen’s dream realized.
He thought of Gretchen Beaumont, follower of instincts, opportunities, and men. And of her brother, the arrogant, brilliant multilingual newspaperman who was suspected of being an assassin. Neither would be remotely acceptable to Geneva.
There was one child left. Helden von Tiebolt—now Helden Tennyson—currently living in Paris. Address unknown. But he had a name. «Gallimard.»
Paris.
He had to get to Paris. He had to elude MI Five.
13
There was a man in London, a stage designer, who’d had a brief vogue as a decorator among the wealthy on both sides of the Atlantic. Noel suspected that Willie Ellis was more often hired for his outrageous personality and his talents as a raconteur than for any intrinsic abilities as an interior decorator. He had worked with Willie on four occasions, vowing each time never to do it again but knowing each time that he probably would. For the truth was that Noel liked Willie immensely. The mad Englishman was not all artifice and elegance. Underneath, in quiet moments, there was a thinking, talented man of the theater who knew more about the history of design than anyone Holcroft had ever met. He could be fascinating.
When he was not outrageous.
They had kept in touch over the years, and whenever Noel was in London, there was always time for Willie. He had thought there would be no time this trip, but that was changed now. He needed Willie. He got the number from London information and dialed.
«Noel, my friend, you’re out of your mind! No one’s up but those stinking birds and street cleaners.»
«I’m in trouble, Willie. I need help.»
Ellis knew the small village where Holcroft was calling from and promised to be there as soon as he could, which he estimated would be something close to an hour. He arrived thirty minutes late, cursing the idiots on the road. Noel climbed into the car, taking Willie’s outstretched hand as well as his characteristic abuse.
«You’re an absolute mess and you smell like a barmaid’s armpit. Keep the window open and tell me what the hell happened.»