Читать книгу The Crooked Olive Branch - Frederick Munn - Страница 11

Chapter 3

“Howzat?” “Out!” The umpire raised his finger.

“That’s Peter’s wicket. I’d better go,” said Pen who at the same time could see her mother bearing down towards them. Pen hurried towards her.

Hal watched her go then returned to watching the bright waters bouncing over the pebbles and stones. “Mini Ha Ha,” he whispered to himself then shrugged his shoulders trying to come to terms with his emotions.

Surgeon Commander Sir George William Bridge-Thompson had been in earnest conversation with Richard Barnes, Peter’s father, and another gentleman, a Bryn Rhys James when he noticed that Peter was out.

“That’s Peter gone. We’ll have that word. Agreed?” The other two nodded. Richard Barnes saw Lady Amelia and Penelope coming around the boundary. He waited until they came within earshot to call out. “Pen, ask Peter if he can spare us a minute, please.”

Peter was still unbuckling his pads as he arrived hot and perspiring. He looked at the stranger and nodded to him, wondering who this might be. He then acknowledged Sir George.

“Sorry sir, not the glorious day I envisaged.”

He failed to add the reason which was lack of concentration caused by Pen’s behaviour.

He then turned to his father “You wanted a word?” adding reluctantly, “sir”.

Sir George interjected. “Shall we take a stroll around the boundary?”

Peter was desperate for a cold drink and an explanation from Pen. Reluctantly he accepted this as an order which it was.“This is Bryn Rhys James.” Sir George introduced the stranger.

Rhys James then without so much as acknowledging Peter’s “how do you do, sir?” walked off into the shadows of the trees behind the sightscreen, assuming all would follow, which they did.

Lowering his voice, he took Peter’s arm, saying. “Come.”

He ‘propelled’ Peter into the shadows.

“Peter, we understand that you and your friend are going to the Oktoberfest in Munich next month?”

“Yes, sir” Peter replied, his mind whirling. He was confused by this sudden turn of events dominated by this stranger. He looked anxiously to his father, who nodded and put his finger to his ear then pointed at his son mouthing “Listen.”

“Your father, Sir George and I have been wondering if it possible for you to go a little earlier stopping off at Bochum to attend the European Special Steel Conference.”

“When is this conference, sir?” Peter avoided replying directly.

He had too many other things on his mind. This confusing, unwelcome question was the last thing he wished to consider. The perceived affair between his intended and his best friend was paramount. Stuck in the batting crease while watching them move out of sight had disrupted his concentration. He needed answers, not more problems.

“September 21st to 23rd,” he replied. He looked to his father hoping for support or failing that, an explanation for this request from a stranger.

Richard Barnes, however, was offering little other than a look which suggested that he should acquiesce. Left without support, Peter answered.

“I suppose I could.” Rhys James continued speaking, oblivious of Peter’s discomfort.

“We know quite a lot about you. A first in modern languages, fluent in German plus others and a Cambridge blue no less.”

“Rowing not cricket,” interrupted Peter.

His father shot him another shut up and listen look, leaving him in no doubt that he was not going to get any support there.

Rhys James continued, “The Germans will not suspect for one moment that you are anything other than a representative of Barnes Tool and Special Steels.”

“Why would they suspect me at all, sir?” Peter answered his mouth dryer than ever.

He was desperate to get away for a cooling drink.

Sir George took Peter’s arm “Look around you, Peter. Isn’t today and our way of life just wonderful? You must agree that it worth preserving. But this …” He waved his arm towards the Bank Holiday scene, “our world, our lives, all that we hold dear are under threat.”

“If you think as we do, then you will listen and listen well.” Sir George paused for effect, then continued. “What Bryn is asking is of the utmost importance. We don’t expect you to be a spy or anything like that. Just to listen and be aware of any new ventures and pass on all that is of interest.”

Peter’s memory ‘rifled’ back to an incident at school when as a young fresher. Surrounded by taunting bullies, his normal clear thinking deserted him. All he could think was “why me?” The ‘why me’ being unspoken. Confused, he found himself turning towards Rhys James as if someone else was speaking for him.

“Yes, sir.”

“If you agree, we need you to observe and listen only. Try and note every piece of information about industrial developments in the steel industries, no matter how trivial. We can then determine its import.”

This gave Peter a clue what this was about.

The ‘why me,’ resurfaced, this time as a studied thought. He could hear this man speaking, his mind now elsewhere trying to rationalise. He tried to find the real reason for his being involved but found none.

Rhys James’s voice returned into focus. “You will be given a list of names, those to whom we hope you will meet and engage in conversation.” Peter was now determined not to speak or nod. It being safer to avoid anything which remotely suggested that he agreed.

Rhys James continued in the manner of a man who was used to giving orders; for them to be obeyed and not accepting any deviation.

“Richard will arrange everything. Also, we think it would be good to take your friend Henry along with you. Having an American there will be of help. They might wish to impress. Be interested in what is new in special steels in the U.S.A.”

He turned to Richard Barnes. “You did say that you could get Steading approved Barnes?”

Peter was furious about Henry being included.

He realised that the only reason his father allowed this to go unchallenged was that there was some substantial gain to be had. What this could be was one question. Why Henry was another.

Bryn Rhys James continued speaking but Peter was no longer paying any attention.

His anger built up as this man droned on.

“There are a couple of chaps we wish you to pay close attention to.”

Peter interrupted. “Really Mr. Rhys James, I fail to see that Henry, or I can be of any use whatsoever.” Sir George, realising that Peter was getting angry, intervened.

“What say you put this to Henry? See what he thinks. May not produce anything.

It could be an interesting few days. I understand the Germans put on a good show.”

“Henry will say the same as me. Why us?”

“Tell you what, young man.” Rhys James took over. “We’ll give you a moment to think about it.”

Signalling to the others he ushered them to the riverbank, leaving Peter to his thoughts.

Peter through the trees, could see them talking.

Rhys James was like an American coach calling time out. It was clear that this man, whoever he was, was nervous when either of the other two men interrupted.

His father and Sir George were almost standing to attention, receiving instructions.

This was so unlike his father. This suggested that Rhys James was a man of significance and not just to Richard Barnes.

Peter began to analyse.

He was involved because of his command of German but why Henry?

The political situation in Europe was a probable catalyst. Again, that didn’t answer the why of Henry.

Peter decided to talk with him to get his view of this strange request.

The three conspirators returned, Rhys James leading the way.

“Well, young man?”

“I will speak with Henry first.” Peter chose his words carefully.

“Good … now who’s for a cream tea?”

Rhys James marched away leaving Peter with the uncomfortable feeling that his message was being deliberately misinterpreted.

Peter, confused and angry with his father and Sir George, wondered how to retract this ‘perceived agreement’.

The conspirators, although serious, gave him the impression of a gang of fourth formers who had just conjured up a wizard prank.

His father’s continued association with Sir George was more to do with the search for a knighthood and government contracts, than genuine friendship. The arrival of this stranger had the same smell about it.

Peter followed the others back towards the pavilion in silence.

The question of Pen and Hank thrust brutally to the back of his mind for the last half hour, now returned with complications. The idyllic scene of a gentle pleasant bank holiday afternoon had been tainted by something more sinister than a flirtation between his fiancé and his best friend.

Even the desperately needed glass of lemonade tasted sour.