Dennis Wheatley - Black August

A succession of nods greeted his statement.

'Good. Well, quite frankly, I don't want you with me. Women are a handicap at such a time, but when Rudd spotted Ann at that window I couldn't very well leave her to be burnt alive and my sentimentality having got the better of my common sense, I had to save you all. Having gone so far, if you wish to stay with me I'll take you along, but it's on the understanding that you take your orders unreservedly from me, otherwise you must clear off tomorrow morning and face whatever is coming on your own.'

'I've always adored soldiers,' said Veronica brightly, 'and I should feel so safe under your protection, Mon General.'

'Thank you,' he smiled, 'and since your request, Ann, of a few hours ago to take you with me, seems to have been granted by Providence despite my refusal, I know your answer already. What about you, Fane?'

'My first duty is to the girls. If they are agreed about it I am quite prepared to take my orders from you.'

'Good. Had you any military experience?'

'O.T.C. at Eton.'

Sallust nodded. 'I'm glad of that. You see, present conditions are quite exceptional. Here am I, with the rank of Brigadier and entitled to the command of about four thousand men, stuck in charge of these lorries and a miserable platoon, without even a subaltern under me. But the whole Military Organisation is upside down so it's up to me to act on my own initiative and make the best arrangements that I can. If you travel with us you will have to do your whack, so I propose to appoint you as temporary officer under Harker, who has some sort of claim to the job already, and the two of you can help me run this outfit.'

'Well, I'm a little rusty on my drill, but I'll do my best,' Kenyon agreed.

'That's settled then.' Gregory stood up. 'Now you'd all better get what sleep you can you two,' he looked swiftly at the girls, 'will occupy the first room that opens on the gallery over the hall. We move off at six thirty tomorrow or rather this morning, I should say.'

'Where to?' asked Kenyon.

Gregory Sallust drew a big, official looking packet from his pocket and smiled at the party. 'Sealed orders,' he said abruptly. 'That's why I'm only in charge of a platoon but you'll all know more about it this time tomorrow. Good night.'

?11

The Taking of the Shark

They were all up with the dawn cold, miserable and still sleepy, their bruises from the night before giving renewed pain, their limbs stiff after the inadequate rest.

The weather had turned. The sky was overcast, and a gentle but persistent drizzle saturated everything. From the windows of the big house the grey sweep of the Thames rolling towards the sea between the low mud flats, showed a cheerless and uninviting prospect.

After a hurried breakfast Gregory Sallust surveyed the scene through his binoculars. The sloping meadows of his boyhood had been levelled into fine playing fields, but the shipping was almost nil and the only sign of life in the near distance a small tug, about a quarter of a mile from the shore, which seemed to be in difficulties. He could make out two men and a woman on the bridge, but the vessel did not seem to be under power. It floated swiftly, broadside on in the sweep of the tide, turning a little first to this side, then to that as fresh eddies caught it. 'Somebody trying to escape to the Continent,' thought Gregory, 'but unable to handle the machinery or perhaps their supply of fuel has already run out.'

He turned his glasses on H.M.S. Worcester, lying at her permanent anchorage just off the foreshore. The old wooden battleship, with her bulging sides neatly painted in longitudinal stripes of black and white, looked silent and deserted. The cadets would be on summer leave, he reflected, and only a skeleton staff of instructors left in charge, hence the tenantless condition of the Abbey.

'All present and correct, sir.' The sergeant saluted stiffly at the door.

'Very good, I'll come down then.' Gregory snapped his binoculars back into their case and glanced at the others. 'We must move off in five minutes, so you'd better come too.'

They followed him meekly downstairs, and stood in a little group on the terrace in front of the house while he walked slowly down the ranks of his men, inspecting each rifle with meticulous care. He then addressed the whole platoon and the detachment of Greyshirts.

'Now men, your own officer has failed to rejoin us, and as I cannot be elsewhere at the same time it is important that I should have assistance in your leadership. Owing to the events of last night the services of one officer of perhaps unorthodox, but commissioned rank are available. I refer to Lieutenant Harker of the Greyshirts. We also have Lord Fane, who has been through the O.T.C. Unusual circumstances demand unusual steps, and therefore it is my intention to delegate authority over you to these two gentlemen for, shall we say, the duration!'

The sergeant's mouth twitched and one or two men tittered, Sallust smiled and went on evenly:

'You will treat them in every respect as you would your own officers, so should any unforeseen accident occur to me you will take your orders from Lieutenant Marker, and failing him, from Lord Fane.' He paused, and turning strode towards the others with his curiously unmilitary slouch: 'Mr. Harker, you will take the leading lorry please Lord Fane, you will take the third and your sister will go with you. Miss Croome, you will come with me. Prepare to mount.' He waved his crop at the detachments; 'Mount!' The lorries jolted their way slowly up the hill, past the lodge, and so out on to the road to Rochester.

Most of the inhabitants of Gravesend were still sleeping after the late night which they had shared with the rest of England. Strood was waking to the dreary day, and as they entered it Ann, who was seated between Gregory and Rudd, asked if they could stop for a moment when they passed a dairy so that she could buy a bottle of milk.

'Do you wonder that I didn't want women on this trip?' said Gregory, but his tone was mocking rather than unkind, and when they passed a creamery he ordered Rudd to pull up.

The shop was open and a short man stood in the doorway; a light brown overall, several sizes too large for him, dangled to his boots.

'Hi! Bring me a couple of quarts of milk, will you?' Gregory called, leaning from his seat.

The short man shook his head. 'Wish I could sir, but I haven't got a drop.'

'All been commandeered for rationing, eh?'

' 'Tain't that, sir, I'm afraid. The farmers won't send it in no more lots o' people is going to miss the milk bottle from their doorstep this morning!'

'Sorry, Ann let her go, Rudd.' Gregory was waving a farewell to the dairyman when Ann gripped his arm and drew his attention to a pillar box on the other side of the road. The slit had been pasted over and a square, white placard stood out in sharp relief against the red paint. In bold black letters it bore the legend:

'SERVICE TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED.'

In Rochester they tried to secure a paper but none were available. No trains had arrived since the previous afternoon; however, there were plenty of rumours; 'The King was dead again… the King was quite recovered… the discontented sailors had volunteered in a body as Special Police… they had also attempted to burn down Buckingham Palace… the Lord Lieutenant of the County had been hanged from the porch of his own house by rioters bombs filled with mustard and chlorine gas were being dropped by aeroplanes on the East End of London… the

Bank of England had been blown up by International Crooks

The last man they spoke to declared that he had it on the very best authority that Field Marshal Lord Plumer had been assassinated by the Reds.

'You fool!' snapped Gregory angrily, 'he died years ago. Let her go, Rudd.'