Dennis Wheatley - Traitors' Gate

Gregory nodded sympathetically. 'It must be worrying you out of your wits. Come along to the mess and have a drink. I'm sure you need one.'

Three days later he saw Sabine; but not to speak to. He had run into an old friend, a journalist who had become a war correspondent, and as neither had anything on that night they agreed to dine together at the Cafe Royal. As they sat down in the restaurant he caught sight of Sabine only a few tables away. Her escort was a tall rather flamboyant looking dark man, with a high bald forehead, flashing eyes and a bushy black moustache. On seeing Gregory she smiled and waved to him, and he waved back,

'Who is your lovely friend?' enquired the journalist.

Gregory told him, and added, 'It's really your job to know by sight everyone who matters. Does that cover the fellow she is with?'

'Oh, yes. He is Colonel Vladan Kasdar, the Moldavian Military Attaché. Not a bad chap as they go; but I wish to goodness all these neutral military attaches could be made to take a running jump and drown themselves in the Thames.'

'Why do you wish that?' Gregory asked with a laugh.

'Because they are so damn dangerous. I'm on pretty good terms with one or two people in M.I.5, and they tell me that they have the Nazi spy system taped. If one is parachuted in or lands from a U-boat, they can nab him within twenty-four hours. So all the leaks that take place are through the neutral Embassies and Legations. Of course it's their job to collect as much information as they can for their own Governments and most of the Swiss, Swedes, Turks and the rest are our very good friends. But there are black sheep in every flock, and the Nazis pay big money for the real goods.'

'I see; and they get the stuff out in the Embassy bags.'

'That's it. The bags enjoy diplomatic privilege and are still immune from censorship; so it's easy enough for chaps like Kasdar to slip a private note in for someone who is working with them in their own capital, and within a few hours its contents have been passed on to Berlin.'

Gregory looked thoughtful, then he said, 'I wonder our Government doesn't put an embargo on the bags any how for a week or so before big operations are to take place.'

'There would be one hell of a fuss if they did,' replied the journalist, 'but, all the same, I wish they would. And I have a personal interest in the matter at the moment. In your job you must know as well as I do that there's a big show pending. The northern ports are positively bursting with troops and shipping. Naturally people like myself are not told where they are off to or when; but it can't be long now because I've been told to stand by to go with them. And I don't mind taking normal risks, but I'm damned if I want to drown just because some Ruritanian type, like Kasdar, is anxious to earn a bit of extra cash to lavish on luscious little dishes of the kind he has with him now.'

The following day Gregory was not due to go on duty until the afternoon and, after breakfast, when he was straightening up the contents of a chest of drawers, he came upon the three big tins of foie gras that Levianski had got for him in Budapest. He had intended one for Sir Pellinore, one for Erika and himself, and one for the girl in S.O.E. Since his return, during most of his off duty hours, his mind had been too distraught with unhappy brooding to do anything about them; but it occurred to him now that a good way to fill in the morning would be to deliver the one for… yes, Diana was her name.

After a short wait he was shown into her office and presented his gift. She was naturally delighted, and said what a treat it would be for her stepfather, whose passion for foie gras had inspired her to suggest that Gregory should pose as a truffle merchant in Budapest. She then asked him how he had got on there.

He told her how the identity of Commandant Tavenier had unforeseeably landed him in the soup, and that he owed his escape to her private enterprise in having provided him with a safe contact in Levianski. He added that he had come, home with what he believed to be a first class coup; but unfortunately he had had all his trouble for nothing, as the Government found themselves unable to take advantage of it,

'That is hard luck!' She looked down for a moment and her long lashes veiled her eyes as she added, 'I suppose they have their hands pretty full at the moment.'

'That's about it!' he agreed, 'and I expect you have too; so I mustn't keep you.' Then, as he stood up, he said on a sudden impulse. I suppose you wouldn't care to dine with me one night?'

The expression on her small aristocratic face remained noncommittal and she replied quietly: 'That depends. Quite a lot of our men who have returned from doing jobs abroad ask me out to dinner. Many of them have been through a most appalling time, and they know that it will be only a week or two before they have to go off and risk their lives again. Some of them think that entitles them to expect me, or other girls in the office, to… er… play parlour games with them after dinner. I wish I could, because I feel terribly sorry for them. But…'

With a wry smile, Gregory checked her in my case you've no need to worry about that. I'm head over heels in love with someone already; but I've made a ghastly mess of things so I'm feeling desperately unhappy. I'm afraid it's rather a backhanded compliment to anyone so young and lovely as yourself; but I was just hoping that you might be kind enough to come out with me for a chat, and so take my mind off my worries for an evening.'

Her face immediately radiated sweetness and compassion. 'But of course I will! How beastly for you. When shall it be? I'm afraid I can't make it tonight, but tomorrow if you like.'

'Thanks,' he smiled. 'I think your heart must be the same true gold as your hair. It's very gracious of you. Anyway, war or no war, at least I can promise you a good meal, with no strings attached.' They arranged that he should call for her at her office at six o'clock, and he left her rather wondering at himself, but glad that he had followed his impulse.

He took her to the Hungaria, knowing that, however scarce steaks, ducks, and Dover soles might be, his old friend Vecchi could always be relied on to provide them with a good main course, instead of the awful made-up dishes which were all that restaurants could now offer to the majority of their customers.

As they drank their cocktails he told her how untouched by the war Budapest still remained and what a good time he had had there until he had had to go to earth in a hurry. She remarked how much her mother and stepfather had enjoyed their visits there before the war; and from that, to their mutual surprise, it emerged that her stepfather was the airman on the Joint Planning Staff with whom Gregory had been in H.M.S. Worcester. That provided them with plenty to talk about through dinner; which was a good thing in view of the unwritten law that people employed in secret war organizations should never discuss war activities in public places.

After dinner they danced twice, then fell a little silent. During a pause longer than usual Diana powdered her aquiline nose which with her oval face and good forehead made her look like a small edition of Queen Marie Antoinette snapped her compact shut, and said:

'Now, tell me about this mess that you've got into with your girlfriend.'

He shook his head. 'I didn't take you out to bore you with my troubles.'

She had been chain-smoking American cigarettes, and lit another. 'Don't if you would rather not. But for some reason people who are older than I am often seem to find it helps to talk over their problems with me. I suppose that's really only because they have got it off their chests; but, anyway, I'm a good listener.'

'Be it on your own head, then,' Gregory smiled, and for the next twenty minutes she interrupted now and then only to ask him to give her a fuller picture of the backgrounds of Erika, Sabine and himself.