Mission to Siena Read online

  “Someone’s been here,” Julia said breathlessly. “What do you think, Don?” Guido asked. “I think your practical joker is carrying this much too far,” Don said. “It might be an idea, Guido, to have a word with the police now.”

  Guido hesitated, then shook his head.

  “No, I’m not going to do that. I can’t afford the stupid publicity that is bound to follow. I’ve got the new board to think of No, I’m not going to call the police.”

  “But you must!” Julia cried. “You should have told them in the first place. You’re in danger…”

  “Don’t get excited, Julia,” Don said quietly. “I can see Guido’s point. The newspapers would love a set-up like this.

  After all, Guido is quite safe here. He’s not alone. I’m here, and Dixon’s within call. Besides, you forget Guido can more than look after himself. Hairy’s outside watching the house. I told him what was in the wind, and he is keeping his eyes open. If we did call the police, they couldn’t do any more than we are doing now…”

  He broke off as the clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. Julia caught her breath sharply.

  “The note said the messenger would come at nine!” she said, catching hold of Guido’s hand.

  “Darling Julia,” Guido said. “There’s nothing to be scared about. Of course no one will come.”

  Even as he spoke they heard the front door bell ring, and Julia jumped to her feet.

  Guido put his arm around her. He glanced across at Don who had stiffened to attention.

  The three stood motionless, listening. They heard Dixon cross the hall and open the front door. They heard a murmur of voices, then Dixon came into the room.

  “There’s a district messenger here, sir,” he said to Guido. “He says he has come for a sealed package. What package would that be?”

  Julia recoiled, her face going white.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Guido said angrily, and he took a step forward, but Don was before him.

  “Stay with Julia,” he said. “I’ll handle this,” and before Guido could argue, he walked into the hall, followed by Dixon.

  Standing under the hall light was a sixteen-year-old boy, wearing a District Messenger’s uniform.

  “Sure you haven’t made a mistake, son?” Don asked.

  “I don’t think so, sir,” the boy returned and brought out his book. “Mr Ferenci, The Crest, Spaniards Avenue, Hampstead. One package to be collected. This is The Crest, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. What are your instructions? Where are you supposed to take the package?”

  “To the Piccadilly Hotel, sir. A gentleman of the name of Montgomery will be waiting for it. I’m to give it to him and get a signature for it,” the boy said.

  Don studied him. He decided he was telling the truth.

  “How are you to identify Mr Montgomery?”

  The boy began to look bewildered.

  “He will be wearing a white mackintosh and a black hat. Is there something up?”

  Don shook his head.

  “No. I’ll get the package for you. Just wait here.” He beckoned to Dixon. “Let’s go into the kitchen,” he said.

  Looking as bewildered as the boy, Dixon led Don into the kitchen.

  When Don had shut the door, he said, “Wrap up some folded newspapers in brown paper: about the size of a book.”

  His face blank with surprise, Dixon quickly made up the parcel and gave it to Don.

  “That’s fine,” Don said approvingly.

  He went back to where the boy was waiting and gave him the parcel.

  “Here’s what you do,” he said. “I don’t want you to get to the Piccadilly Hotel before ten o’clock. That’s important. Give this package to Mr Montgomery and get his signature, but not before ten, do you understand?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, you get off,” Don said and slipped a pound note into the boy’s hand. “That’s for keeping you out of bed.”

  The boy grinned.

  “Thanks, sir. I’ll do just as you say.”

  When he had gone, Don returned to the lounge where Guido and Julia sat side by side on the settee. Julia still looked frightened, but she had herself under control. Her hand gripped Guido’s tightly.

  “Well, it looks as if we have a crackpot on our hands,” Don said, closing the door and coming over to the brightly burning fire. “He appears to be a Mr Montgomery, and he is waiting in the lounge of the Piccadilly Hotel for a district messenger to make him a present of your ten thousand pounds. I’ve made up a faked parcel, and the boy is going to deliver it. We must get the police on to this, Guido. It’s got to be done. This fellow mustn’t be encouraged. He could make himself a nuisance to others unless he is stopped. I’ll call Dicks. He’ll take care of him.”

  Guido shrugged.

  “All right. Go ahead.”

  Don lifted the telephone receiver. He held it to his ear for a long moment, then frowning, he tapped the crossbar, listened, then laid down the receiver.

  He realized with a feeling of shock that he had taken this business up to now far too casually.

  “I should have guessed it wasn’t going to be as easy as that,” he said, his face hardening. “The line’s dead.”

  “You mean someone’s cut the line?” Julia said, starting to her feet.

  “I don’t know. There’s no dialling tone. Where’s the nearest telephone, Guido?”

  “About half a mile down the road,” Guido said. “Will you go or shall I send Dixon?”

  Don moved over to the fireplace and stood with his back to it. He stared down at the carpet for a long moment.

  “Don’t let’s rush this, Guido,” he said.’"We haven’t taken it seriously enough — at least we two haven’t. We must be careful now not to be caught on the wrong foot again.”

  “Then you do think Guido is in danger?” Julia said, her eyes growing wide.

  “I don’t know,” Don said, looking steadily at her, “but I think we should assume that he is and act accordingly. If this man really means business, it is quite unlikely that he will be at the Piccadilly Hotel. I was slow not to realize that when the boy told me where he was taking the package. If he does mean business, he’ll probably waylay the boy before he reaches the station. I don’t want to put the wind up either of you, but we must face up to the situation. One thing we must not do: we mustn’t reduce our forces. This is a lonely spot; the road is dark and lonely and there are no other houses for quite a distance. If this crackpot is determined to make trouble he may try to stop us using an outside telephone. A lot depends on his mentality. What will he do when he finds the package contains useless newspapers ?

  Will he give us rest and go home or will he try to make good his threat?”

  Guido lit a cigarette. He seemed to be enjoying the situation.

  “He would scarcely go to the trouble of putting the telephone out of order unless he intended to pay us a visit,” he said.

  Don nodded.

  “Yes, I think we should be prepared for a visit.” He smiled encouragingly at Julia. “It’s-going to be all right. Don’t look so scared. There are three able-bodied men in the house and one outside.”

  “Yes,” Julia said unsteadily. She tried to match his smile, but didn’t succeed.

  “Let’s get Dixon in and tell him what to expect,” Don said. “I won’t go out to Harry. He knows he has to keep his eyes open, and if the house is being watched, I should only give away his position.

  We can rely on him to do the right thing at the right moment. But let’s get Dixon in.”

  Guido rang the bell and when Dixon entered the room, he explained the situation.

  Dixon took the news calmly.

  “Well, sir,” he said, “I can’t see him doing much damage with the three of us here, but if you like I’ll have a crack at getting the police.”

  “No, we’ll stick together,” Don said. “The first move is to go over the house. We want to be s
ure no one has already broken in or can break in. Stay here with Mr Ferenci while I take a look around.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Guido said.

  “No, stay here with Julia, please,” Don said firmly. “And you, Dixon, don’t let Mr Ferenci out of your sight.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dixon said.

  Guido shrugged.

  “All right I’ll leave it to you, but watch out.” He sat down, holding out his hand to Julia. “Come and sit with me, darling, and let’s hold hands. We’ll be laughing about this by tomorrow.”

  Dixon went across to the fireplace and picked up the poker. He balanced it in his hand, nodded his satisfaction and walked over to the door.

  “No one will come in here, sir,” he said to Don, “without an argument from me.”

  Don grinned.

  “That’s the idea. I won’t be long. Keep the door closed. I’ll call out when I come back.”

  He remembered there was a maid somewhere in the house and asked Dixon where she was.

  “She’s gone to the movies, sir. She won’t be back until half-past ten.”

  “Right,” Don said. “Then that leaves all the rooms except this one empty.”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  Don closed the door. For a long moment he stood in the brightly lit hall and listened. The house was quiet. Faintly, he could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere upstairs and the irregular whirring noise from the refrigerator in the kitchen. He went swiftly and silently up the stairs to the upper landing.

  His examination of the six rooms that led out on to the gallery was thorough. As he left each room, he locked the door after him. He didn’t expect to find anyone lurking in the rooms and nor did he, but a growing sense of uneasiness worried him. He opened the sixth door and looked into the luxurious bathroom. There was no place for concealment there. He stepped out on to the gallery and moved to the banister rail to look down into the hall.

  Then without warning the lights in the house went out. For a moment he stood motionless in the black suffocating darkness, cursing himself for not having a flashlight with him.

  Then with his hand on the rail to guide him, he started towards the head of the stairs. He had only taken a few groping steps when he heard Julia’s wild, terrified scream.

  In the garden, close to the window of Guido’s sitting-room, Shapiro had been waiting for Crantor, a mile or so away, to touch the high tension wires with the insulated pole he had with him.

  Sweat ran down Shapiro’s face as he waited. In his right hand he held the broad-bladed knife. Then suddenly he saw the lights that gleamed faintly through the curtains go out. He hooked his fingers under the window frame and pushed it up, then stepped back and waited.

  The light breeze moved the curtains. He waited for perhaps ten or twenty seconds, then suddenly the curtains were pulled aside.

  A tall man in evening dress stood before the open window as Crantor had said he would stand. The dim light of the cloud-covered moon fell directly on his white shirt front.

  Shapiro raised the knife and his hand shot forward, sending the knife flying through the air. It was the easiest target he had ever had to aim at.

  He heard the knife thud home, saw the fair man reel back, then he turned and ran around the side of the house to where he had left his car.

  As he bolted into the darkness and as Don began a reckless dash down the stairs, Julia screamed again.

  Chapter III

  VENETIAN RED

  The big, beefy figure of Inspector Horrocks came into Guido’s study where Don had been sitting for the past half-hour, a cigarette burning heedlessly between his fingers.

  “Now, sir,” Horrocks said, closing the door, “perhaps we can take this a bit further.”

  “Yes,” Don said, woodenly. He was still badly shaken by Guido’s death and he would have preferred to have been left alone.

  “It would help if you went over the whole story again, sir,” Horrocks said, coming over to the fire, and lowering his bulk into a chair opposite the one Don was sitting in.

  “Yes, of course,” Don said. He went on to give the Inspector a detailed account of how he had met Julia, of the threatening letter and how he had come down to act as Guido’s bodyguard. “I just didn’t take the thing seriously,” he went on, staring into the fire. “I feel responsible for his death. It wasn’t until I found the telephone had been tampered with that I thought it possible we might be in for trouble. Even then it didn’t occur to me it would happen so quickly. I thought Guido would be safe with Dixon and me to guard him. I left my chauffeur outside to watch the house.”

  “Where’s he jot to, then?” Horrocks asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been out to look for him, but there’s no sign of him. I’m hoping he saw the killer and is after him.”

  Horrocks grunted.

  “Is that likely?”

  “I think it is. I’m anxious to get home, Inspector, in case he is trying to contact me.”

  “I won’t keep you much longer, sir,” Horrocks said. “I’d like to clear up one or two points. You didn’t see the killer yourself?”

  “No. I left Dixon with Mr Ferenci and I went upstairs to search the house. Then the lights went out and I heard Julia-Mrs Ferenci — scream. I belted down the stairs and rushed into the lounge. It was pitch dark in there. I had told Dixon I’d call out as I came in, but I forgot to do so. He took me for an intruder and closed with me. We had quite a scrap, and I had to knock him silly before I could get free of him. By thetime I had found a flashlight, the killer had gone. I found Mr Ferenci lying before the open window. Mrs Ferenci had fainted. Then two patrolmen came in. You know the rest of it.”

  Horrocks nodded.

  “The killer somehow fused the lights, then opened the window. Mr Ferenci either felt the draught or else heard the window open. He went to the window. The killer was ready for him. As Mr Ferenci pulled back the curtains, the killer threw the knife.”

  “How was it your men arrived like that? Did they hear Mrs Ferenci’s screams?”

  “It was the messenger boy. When he left here, a man came out of the darkness and struck at him with a club. The boy was too quick for him and bolted. The man went after him, but the boy got away. The attack was so quick, the boy didn’t get much of a chance to see the man. All he can tell us is that he is tall and slimly built. As soon as the boy got clear, he dialled 999. One of our cars picked him up and brought him here. They arrived just too late.” Don rubbed his forehead.

  “Have you got anything from Dixon? Did he see anything?” Horrocks shook his head.

  “I’m going to talk to him now. He’s still groggy from the punch you gave him.”

  Don moved irritably.

  “It was entirely my fault,” he said angrily. “I told him I would call out when I returned. Naturally he went for me: he was like a wild cat.”

  A constable came in.

  “Beg pardon, sir. There’s a lady asking for Mr Micklem.” “That’ll be my secretary. I asked one of your men to telephone her. I want her to take care of Mrs Ferenci,” Don said, getting to his feet.

  “All right, sir. While you talk to her, I’ll see how Dixon is getting on,” Horrocks said.

  Don found Marian in the hall.

  “This is a frightful business,” he said, going to her. “Poor Guido’s been murdered. Julia’s in a bad way. The maid’s with her now, but

  I don’t think she’s much use. Will you take charge, Marian? If she’s as bad as I think she is, you’d better get the doctor.

  The maid will tell you whom to get. I’ll leave you to handle it.”

  “Yes, of course,” Marian said. “Where is she?”

  No questions; no flap. Don never ceased to wonder at Marian’s unruffled calm. No situation ever seemed, to throw her out of her stride. He knew he couldn’t leave Julia in better hands.

  “The door facing the head of the stairs.”

  Marian nodded and ran up the stairs while Don went into the libr
ary where Dixon was lying on the settee with Horrocks standing over him.

  “I’m sorry about this, Dixon,” Don said, going over to him. “It was entirely my fault. You put up a good show.”

  “Oh no, sir, I didn’t,” Dixon said, sitting up. “I got proper wind up. I should have known it was you. The fight going out..”

  “Well, never mind,” Don said. He looked at Horrocks. “Go ahead, Inspector. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Will you tell me what happened from the time Mr Micklem left the room?” Horrocks asked, sitting by Dixon.

  “Well, sir, I stood guard by the door. Mr Ferenci sat on the settee with Mrs Ferenci. All of a sudden the lights went out.

  I heard Mr Ferenci jump to his feet. He said something about the window being open. Mrs Ferenci began to scream. I heard Mr Ferenci pull back the curtains. It was raining outside and dark, and I couldn’t see a thing. I just stood like a fool staring into the darkness. Then the door burst open. Mr Micklem had told me he would call out when he came in. I did remember that. I thought he was an intruder and I went for him. Then I ran into a punch that knocked me out.”

  “So you didn’t see what happened to Mr Ferenci?” Horrocks asked, an exasperated note in his voice.

  “No, sir, I didn’t.”

  Don lifted his shoulders. They were getting nowhere, he told himself He thought again of Harry.

  “Has the telephone been fixed yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” HoiTocks said. “We can’t find where the line has been cut.”

  “Then I’ll get back to my place. If my chauffeur has had any luck he’ll be trying to contact me. If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”

  “I’d be glad if you would, sir.”

  Nodding to Dixon, Don went into the hall and up the stairs. He knocked on Julia’s door. Marian came to the door.

  “The doctor’s coming,” she told Don. “She’s still unconscious.”

  “Stick with her , will you? I’m going home. There’s a chance Harry spotted the killer and he may be trying to get me.”

  “I’ll stay with her.”

  Leaving her, Don hurried to where he had left the Bentley and drove fast to Upper Brook Mews. As he pulled up the front door opened and Cherry appeared. Don leaned out of the car window.