Алистер Маклин - Circus

‘All that I can arrange immediately. First of all, though, I suggest you have a look around. When you see what you’ve taken on you might want to change your mind.’

The two men left the office and Wrinfield led the way to the centre ring of the circus itself, a spot which, in so far as potential eavesdroppers were concerned, was probably more secluded than any place for a mile around. Nonetheless, Wrinfield scuffed the sand with the toe of his shoe and looked casually around before speaking.

He said: ‘And what was all that for?’

‘Sorry about all that cloak-and-dagger stuff. We don’t usually go in for it – spoils our image. Incidentally, congratulations – you’d make a splendid recruit to our organization. Anyway, I was speaking to Charles just before I came here and we both came up with the same very nasty suspicion at the same time.’

‘That my office was bugged?’

‘If it were, it could explain a great deal.’

‘But why all the paper notes you handed me? Why didn’t you just phone and warn me?’ Harper half-smiled at him and Wrinfield tapped his own head. ‘That wasn’t very bright. The phone could have been bugged, too.’

‘Indeed. In a few minutes’ time you can expect another applicant for my job. His name is Dr Morley and he will be carrying the regulation black medical bag. But he’s no doctor, he’s an electronics expert and his bag is packed with extremely advanced equipment for locating bugging devices. Ten minutes alone in your office and he’ll find out whether it’s clean or not.’

Fifteen minutes later, as Wrinfield and Harper approached the office, a tall dark man with a black bag descended the steps from it. For the benefit of watchers or listeners Wrinfield introduced them and suggested a cup of coffee in the canteen. They sat at a remote corner table.

Morley said: ‘Two bugs. Miniaturized radio transmitters. One in the ceiling light, the other in the phone.’

‘So I can breathe again,’ Wrinfield said. Neither of the other two made any immediate reply so he went on rather uncertainly: ‘I mean, those devices have been removed or deactivated?’

‘Most certainly not,’ Harper said. ‘The bugs are still there and there they will remain, probably until we return from Europe. Do you think we want the ungodly to know that we know? Think of all the amount of false and confusing and misleading information we can feed them.’ One could see that, mentally, Harper was positively rubbing his hands. ‘From now on you will conduct only routine circus business in that office.’ He smiled almost dreamily. ‘Unless, of course, I give instructions to the contrary.’

In the days that followed, four subjects increasingly and exclusively dominated conversation in the circus.

The first of those, inevitably, emanated from the mounting excitement over the forthcoming trip to Europe, a euphoric state that was not, understandably, shared by the unfortunates who were not making the foreign tour but would be returning to the winter headquarters in Florida: for purely logistical reasons, only two-thirds of the personnel would be able to make it. But for the two-thirds who were going the European visit, especially as it included a two-way ocean voyage, was regarded as nothing less than a holiday. An extremely arduous holiday it promised to be from the moment of disembarkation, but nonetheless a holiday. About half the crew were American, few of whom had ever been abroad before, partly from financial considerations, partly because the circus season was so long that they had only three weeks free in the year and this at the wrong time of the year – in the dead of winter: for them, this could be a once in a lifetime experience. The remainder were predominantly European, mainly from the other side of the Iron Curtain, and this was, possibly, also a once in a lifetime experience – that of seeing their native countries and families again.

The second subject concerned the much-maligned activities of Dr Harper and his two temporarily employed trained nurses. Their degree of unpopularity was high. Harper was rigorous to the point of ruthlessness, and when it came to vaccinations and inoculations no one passed through the meshes of the wide net he cast and when any to-be-or-not-to-be questions arose he never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt. Circus people are undoubtedly tougher and fitter than the average run of mankind, but when it came to a profound aversion to injections, scratches and consequent sore arms they were no different from anyone else. But nobody could possibly doubt that they had a genuine and dedicated doctor in their midst.

The third concerned two sets of mysterious activities. The first was the patrol that so closely guarded the sleeping quarters on the train during the night. No one seriously believed that threats to lives had been made by parties unknown but, then, they didn’t know what else to believe. Then there was the baffling incident of two alleged electrical engineers who had come to examine the wiring of the train. They had almost finished their task before their authenticity had been questioned and the police called. Unknown to anyone in the circus except Harper, they had been detained in custody for precisely five minutes, which was all the time it took for one of them to phone the admiral and reassure him that none of the sleeping quarters on the train had been bugged.

The last, but unquestionably the most engrossing topic of the lot, concerned Bruno and Maria. To the vexation of Henry, who was not engaged in a battle with his conscience, they were not only seen increasingly in each other’s company, but were also seen actively and with no attempt at concealment to seek out each other’s company. The reactions to this particular development were predictably mixed. Some were amused to see Bruno’s hitherto inviolate defences being breached. Others were envious – the men because Bruno had undoubtedly and apparently without effort attached the affections of a girl who politely and pointedly ignored any other approaches made to her, the women because Bruno, by far the most eligible bachelor in the circus, politely but pointedly ignored any approaches made to him. Many more were happy for Bruno, and this despite the fact that apart from Kan Dahn, Manuelo and Roebuck he had no real friends in the circus, because it was common knowledge that since the death of his wife he had been a sad, lonely and withdrawn man who never looked at women. But the majority regarded it as only natural and inevitable that the undisputed star of the circus should come together with a girl who was arguably the most lovely young lady among a plethora of lovely young ladies.

It was not until the last performance of their last night in town that Bruno rather diffidently asked her along to see his quarters aboard the train. Maria showed no diffidence in accepting the offer. He guided her stumbling footsteps along the rutted siding track then helped her up the steep steps at the end of a coach.

Bruno had rather splendid and completely enclosed quarters, consisting of a sitting-room, kitchen-cum-dinette, bathroom – with, of all things, a sunken bath – and bedroom. Maria looked almost dazed as he led her back to the sitting-room.

He said: ‘I’m told I mix what the Americans call a rather mean Martini. Only time I ever drink is after I’ve finished a series in a town. Alcohol and the trapeze don’t mix. Will you join me?’

‘Please. I must say you do live in style. You should have a wife to share all this.’

Bruno fetched ice. ‘Is that a proposal?’

‘No, it’s not. But all this – just for one man.’

‘Mr Wrinfield is very kind to me.’

She said drily: ‘I don’t think Mr Wrinfield is losing out on the deal. Does anyone else have accommodation like this?’