Jack Ludlow: A Bitter Field

‘And naturally you had to let your new masters know that Moncrief was me and, very likely, the cargo was not destined for Dublin?’

‘No need to take that tone, old chum, chap needs a feather or two in his cap from time to time and they were impressed. Having brought home a bit of early bacon, and knowing in part our relationship, I was given the task of looking for you.’

‘Which involved?’

‘Checking the trains that had left Brno, the goods they were carrying and their destinations, as well as who might be shifting them and to where. Dublin-based company, agricultural equipment, staggered journey with some odd stops and switches that took over a month — two and two, really.’

‘So having made four?’

‘I’m not here to interfere, Cal, but to enquire if you are planning any more little adventures.’

‘I might be.’

‘In Czechoslovakia?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘In that case, as I have already mentioned, we want your services in what is now a very interesting part of the world.’

‘You must have people there already.’

‘Shall I just say there is an official policy and one that runs somewhat counter to that, which makes it an arena where we have to tread somewhat carefully.’

‘To avoid alerting the Foreign Office and I presume some people in MI6 itself?’

Peter Lanchester thought for several seconds before nodding, initially unwilling to acknowledge that he worked in an organisation which, quite apart from the time-servers was staffed by some very rabid right-wingers indeed, agents whose loyalties might be split.

‘And if the answer is no?’

‘I go back to London with my tail between my legs and admit to those who sent me that I failed in my first field operation, which will not do much to raise my standing.’

Cal leant forward and looked Peter right in the eye. ‘Assuming the answer is no, let me tell you what I would do if I were in your shoes.’

To avoid his eye, Peter deliberately looked at his toecap. ‘Do we share a shoe size, old boy?’

‘I would make the proposition and if I was turned down I would slip along to the hotel de ville and seek out whoever it is who is in a position to alert the Deuxieme Bureau, given there’s bound to be someone in place for that purpose.’

Peter was now looking distinctly uncomfortable, a condition that was not eased by the bitter tone in which Cal continued.

‘Then I would say to them that there is a cargo of light machine guns plus enough ammo for an extended campaign coming into town to be loaded on to a British cargo vessel, bound for Spain, and I would even provide names.’

‘That would be awfully devious, Cal.’

‘Yet I suspect I have just described your instructions from on high. I have been tracked halfway across Europe and if I am being tailed in La Rochelle it is not by the French, it is by MI6, all for the purpose of blackmailing me into working for them. Those two following me were just to give you leverage, were they not?’

There was no reaction to that, the eyes stayed on the shoe.

‘Just as they were also not the idiots I took them to be, they were supposed to be spotted so you could give that little performance on the quayside.’

‘At least you must acknowledge it was convincing.’

‘Who are they?’

The reply was not immediate but slow in coming; no one in the intelligence business likes to give anything away unless they have to. ‘Couple of chaps from the Paris embassy, who were only too keen for a bit of cloak and dagger to relieve the boredom.’

It was not hard to anticipate the next question, given the way Cal was staring at him. ‘Who, if they don’t hear from me, will return there forthwith.’

‘Do they know about my real name or my shipment?’

‘Of course not!’ Peter replied, eyebrows shooting up, leaving Cal to wonder if the shock was real or as feigned as his quayside rudeness. He was far from convinced he was being told the truth.

‘The question is, Peter, will you carry out your instructions to the letter or will you, for old times’ sake, if I decline your offer, manufacture a fudge that lets me get clear?’

Peter Lanchester looked Cal straight in the eye, tapping his fingers on the oilskin cloth covering the table. ‘I hope you are not expecting me to be embarrassed. It is often the case that in the intelligence game one is put in an invidious position, Cal, you know that.’

‘I accept that, but I don’t know what you are going to do, given the position you are in — indulge an old companion, or obey your new bosses and hang me out to dry. When it comes to shipping weapons to Spain the French are worse than us and quite brutal in their methods of extracting information. I don’t fancy ending up having to answer any questions they might pose about who helped me get this far.’

‘Then give me an answer.’

‘I will, on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘I’ll say yes or no when my cargo is loaded and on the way to Spain.’

‘You’re not going with it?’

‘No, my involvement ends once it’s on board.’

That brought another long silence as Peter contemplated the offer, and it was clear from his expression that what occurred to him first were the manifest drawbacks.

‘Such a course puts all the aces in your hands. What if you renege once it is loaded?’

‘I give you my word I will not and my answer will be based on a realistic appreciation of what I can usefully do.’

‘Not something my chiefs would accept.’

‘They don’t know me, you do. I am not giving them my word, Peter, this is personal between you and I.’

That led to another long silence and a stare between them that was locked and unfriendly, until Peter finally gave way. ‘Oh all right, but you’d better bloody well keep it, for if you break it I will get the blame for that and I give you my word that those I represent will help me to ensure you will suffer more.’

‘Meaning I’ll have to shut up shop in the arms trade?’

‘Meaning, old boy, you will never dare set foot on home soil again, for the moment you do you will be arrested and thrown into choky for a very long time.’

‘I assume I would get a trial.’

‘While I am certain you would earn a conviction. You’re a British subject breaking an official arms embargo.’

Cal looked at his watch. ‘It is about time for me to move, Peter. I have a schedule to keep.’

‘Which involves?’ Now it was Cal’s turn to be guarded, to husband information best kept secret, which clearly annoyed Peter. ‘I have to know and I have, after all, been fairly open with you.’

‘I radioed the ship from the Marconi office this morning, which is, I assume, where your embassy chaps picked me up?’

‘Another bit of brilliant Lanchester deduction. I guessed you’d have to radio the vessel to say the cargo was ready to load.’

‘It will anchor in the outer roads late this afternoon and I have to get the goods into the commercial port and alongside before certain customs people go off duty.’

‘Folk whom you’ve bribed?’ Cal nodded, as Peter hauled himself to his feet. ‘You’ll have to wait till I get changed.’

‘Why?’

‘I doubt my present attire is proper wear for what is proposed.’

‘You intend to come along?’

‘Cal, if you think I am going to let you out of my sight, you have another think coming. I am going to stick to you, in that vulgar expression the squaddies we led used to employ, like shit to a blanket. Now do me a favour and start to clean the place up so there is no trace of either of us ever being here.’

‘Is that necessary?’

‘Compulsory, old boy, standing orders now that one is back in harness.’