Алистер Маклин - Circus

‘What?’

‘I want to see that stuff.’

‘Oh. I’d love to.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Not if you’re wearing those clothes. Anyway, no half-decent restaurant would let you through the front door.’

‘I’ll change.’

‘But if we’re seen together – in daylight, I mean–’

‘There’s a charming little inn in a charming little village about ten miles from here. Nobody will know us there and nobody will be looking anyway: I’m dead. Which reminds me. It’s less than an hour since I was talking to a couple of grave-diggers.’

‘We are being humorous again, are we?’

‘Fact. Very interesting.’

‘In the Hunter’s Horn?’

‘In the cemetery. I asked them who it was for and they said it was for me. Well, the American who fell off the wire. It’s not everyone who’s privileged enough to watch his own grave being dug. They were making a very neat job of it, I must say.’

‘Please.’ She shivered. ‘Must you?’

‘Sorry. That wasn’t funny. I just thought it was. Now, you’ll go to this village – it’s called Kolszuki – by car and I’ll go by train. We’ll meet at the station there. We might as well go now and check the train time-tables at the Crau station. You’ll have to get clearance from Dr Harper, of course.’

On a very spartan metal table in a very spartan and largely metal office, the spools of a tape-recorder revolved. On either side of the table sat Colonel Sergius and Captain Kodes. Both had headphones to their ears. In addition to the phones Sergius had a cigar, vodka and as close to a beatific smile as he was ever likely to achieve. Captain Kodes, too, was permitting himself the luxury of smiling broadly. Angelo, discreetly seated in a far corner, although he had neither phones nor vodka, was also smiling. If the colonel was happy, that made him happy, too.

Bruno returned from consulting the time-tables inside the Crau station. He said: ‘There’s a very convenient train for lunch. Meet me at the Kolszuki station at noon. You won’t have any trouble in finding it – there aren’t more than fifty houses in the village. Know where this place is?’

‘There’s a map in the glove-box. I’ve checked. I’ll be there then.’

Bruno drove up the main street and parked the Volkswagen just opposite the lane abutting on the southern side of Lubylan. The street was not deserted – there were two trucks and a car on the south side of the lane, obviously parked for the night. It was a measure of the confidence in their security arrangements of those within Lubylan that they raised no objections to vehicles parking in such close proximity. Bruno made a mental note of this: there is no objection to the night-time parking of trucks in the south lane.

Bruno said: ‘Now don’t forget to tell Dr Harper everything we discussed tonight. And don’t forget that, for the benefit of any innocent passers-by, we’re just a couple of lovers lost in each other’s eyes. Darling, darling Maria. That’s for practice.’

‘Yes, Bruno,’ she said primly. ‘We’ll be married soon, Bruno.’

‘Very soon, my love.’ They relapsed into silence, their eyes fixed on the lane, Maria’s all the time, Bruno’s most of the time.

In the headquarters of the secret police Colonel Sergius was making harsh croaking noises in his throat. He was not choking on his vodka. Colonel Sergius was laughing. He indicated that Angelo should pour him another vodka, then indicated that Angelo should help himself also. Angelo refrained from crushing the bottle in his surprise, smiled his wolfish smile and swiftly complied before Sergius could change his mind. This was without precedent, an epoch-making night.

Bruno turned suddenly, put his arms around Maria and kissed her passionately. For a moment she stared at him, dark eyes open in astonishment and surmise, let herself relax against him, then stiffened as an authoritative rat-tat-tat came on her window. She broke from Bruno’s arms and swiftly wound down the window. Two large policemen, complete with the customary guns and batons, were bent down peering into the car. Uniforms and weapons apart, however, they bore no resemblance to the popular conception of the Iron Curtain policeman. Their expressions were genial, positively paternal. The larger of the two sniffed suspiciously.

‘Very strange smell in this car, I must say.’

Maria said: ‘I’m afraid I’ve just broken a phial of perfume. A drop is nice – but a whole bottle – well, it is a bit strong, I must say.’

Bruno, stammering slightly and with his voice sounding acutely embarrassed, said: ‘What is it, officer? This is my fiancée.’ He held up Maria’s be-ringed left hand so that there should be no doubt about it. ‘Surely there’s no law–’

‘Indeed not.’ The policeman leaned a confidential elbow on the window-sill. ‘But there is a law against parking in a main street.’

‘Oh! Sorry. I didn’t realize–’

‘It’s the fumes,’ the policeman said kindly. ‘Your mind must be all befuddled.’

‘Yes, officer.’ Bruno smiled weakly. ‘Is it all right if we park behind those trucks?’ Hopefully, he indicated the vehicles in the south lane.

‘Certainly. Don’t catch cold now. And, comrade?’

‘Officer?’

‘If you love her so much, why don’t you buy your fiancée a bottle of decent perfume? Needn’t be expensive, you know.’ The policeman beamed and walked away with his colleague.

Maria, remembering her momentary yielding to Bruno, said in a cross voice: ‘Well, thank you. For a moment there I thought you had found me irresistible.’

‘Always use your rear-view mirror. It’s just as important when you’re stationary as when you’re driving.’

She made a face at him as he pulled the car into the south lane.

The two policemen watched them park. They moved out of eyeshot of the car. The larger man pulled a walkie-talkie microphone from his breast pocket, pressed a button and said: ‘They’re parked in the south lane by the Lubylan, Colonel.’

‘Excellent.’ Even with the metallic distortion and the fact that his speech was interrupted by a series of whooping gasps – laughter was an unaccustomed exercise for him – Sergius’s voice was unmistakable. ‘Just leave the love-birds be.’

It took Bruno and Maria minutes only to establish that there were indeed ground-level guards. There were three of them and they kept up a continuous peripheral patrol, each making a full circuit of the Lubylan in turn. At no time was any guard in sight of the other two. As sentries, they were a degree less than enthusiastic. Not for them the continually roving, probing eyes, the piercing scrutiny of all that lay in their path of vision: with downcast gaze and trudging steps, they gave the impression of thoroughly miserable men, huddled against the cold and living only for the moment of their relief. There had been night-time sentries patrolling the Lubylan for ten, perhaps twenty years, and probably no untoward incident had ever occurred: there was no conceivable reason why it ever should.

From the two watchtowers they could see, the south-west and south-east ones, searchlights flashed occasionally and erratically along the tops of the perimeter walls. There was no discernible predetermined sequence to the switching on and off of the searchlights: it appeared to be a quite random process, its arbitrary nature dependent on the whim of the guard.

After twenty minutes Bruno drove off to the public convenience he had patronized earlier that evening. He left the car, kissed Maria goodbye as she moved into the driver’s seat and disappeared into the depths. When he emerged, the grimy parcel with the old clothes and the amatol tucked under his arm, he was clad in his original sartorial glory.