Читать книгу Spies in St. Petersburg - Katherine Woodfine - Страница 12

Secret Service Bureau HQ, London

Lil’s breath caught in her throat and she dropped the biscuit she was holding, not noticing the crumbs that scattered across Carruthers’ desk.

Dimly, she heard Forsyth say: ‘Oh, surely not, sir. Perhaps she’s just being careful – maintaining her cover. After all, the Russian secret police are no joke.’

‘That’s precisely what concerns me,’ the Chief replied. ‘It’s true that if the Okhrana are watching her, she may be keeping a low profile. But even with that in mind, she should have been in touch by now. There are arrangements in place for her to write privately by diplomatic bag, via the Embassy.’ The Chief tapped his pen against the desk in time to the music. ‘I must say, I don’t like it. Von Wilderstein may be dangerous. And St Petersburg is volatile at present. With the assassination of the Russian minister, there’s bound to be trouble stirred up.’

Lil’s heart was pounding. Sophie had disappeared – in Russia? The Chief had just told her that Sophie was fine – that there was nothing for her to worry about. But he had lied. He hadn’t heard from Sophie for over a month – she was missing in St Petersburg, all the way on the other side of Europe.

‘Of course, we don’t want to ruffle the Russians’ feathers,’ she could hear him saying. ‘The diplomatic situation is tricky. Officially we have no business sending spies into Russia. They are, after all, our allies. If she’s been caught – well, I suspect the government will want to deny any association with her.’

‘Will you send someone to look for her?’ asked Forsyth.

‘I’ve no agents I can spare to go all the way to St Petersburg at present. Besides, I have my orders – and the Ministry are very clear that Germany must remain our priority. They are interested in the Fraternitas and this weapon, of course – in fact, I may say, they are very interested. But it’s not their most pressing concern. So I’m afraid Miss Taylor will have to fend for herself, for now at any rate. Don’t let on to Miss Rose, Forsyth. I don’t want her distracted from the Hamburg mission.’

‘Of course not, sir,’ said Forsyth, sounding as though nothing could be further from his mind than confiding in Lil.

As he spoke, Lil realised the other door was opening. At once she let the cover swing back into place, concealing the air vent – but it was already too late. Captain Carruthers was standing before her, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

‘Making yourself quite at home, I see? And listening in on private conversations too?’

‘I was intrigued by your invention. Just seeing how it works,’ Lil flashed back at once. ‘Does the Chief know you’ve been eavesdropping on all his secret meetings?’

‘Ha!’ Carruthers scoffed. ‘I’m his secretary. Do you really think he keeps anything from me?’ He flung an arm out, gesturing to the row of locked filing cabinets. ‘I see every letter, every telegram, every dossier. There isn’t anything that happens in this office that I don’t know about.’ He looked at her rather smugly. Of course: he must know that Sophie was missing, Lil realised. Was there anyone at the Bureau who didn’t already know, except for her?

Lil was not someone who lost her temper very often, but now she did. ‘Well, I hope you have a jolly nice time with your letters and reports and your secret spy hole, and your biscuits,’ she retorted. ‘Tucked away nice and safe – while we’re out in the field, doing the real work.’

Carruthers turned red, and she knew she had hit a nerve. He was envious of the Bureau agents who worked ‘in the field’ and resented having to stay behind to organise files and type the Chief’s letters. Of course, it wasn’t really his fault that he was a secretary instead of a field-agent; and whilst he might be a prickly sort of fellow, it wasn’t exactly cricket to imply he was a coward. She expected him to say something spiteful in reply, but instead he just growled: ‘Get out of my chair.’

He was even more bad-tempered than usual as he took down the description of the grey-haired man, and the particulars of Sir Edwin’s safe. But Lil did not pay him much attention: her mind was far away, racing with thoughts about Sophie and St Petersburg. Vague images of the Tsar, and snow, and Russian ballet, and Cossacks on horseback danced about in her head. She could not even begin to imagine Sophie into the picture. Could she really have fallen foul of the Russian secret police that the Chief had talked about? Or worse still, could she have been caught by the Count and the Fraternitas Draconum?

A wave of cold dread swept over her. She was barely aware of walking home: she didn’t notice the turning leaves as she tramped through the square garden, nor the omnibuses hissing by on the wet road, nor the woman with the basket of flowers on the corner, who called out to her: ‘A sprig of white heather, miss, for luck?’ Instead she only heard the Chief’s voice, over and over again, like one of his own gramophone records, stuck in a loop. The diplomatic situation is a tricky one . . . If she’s been caught . . . the government will want to deny any association with her . . . I’ve no agents I can spare to go to all the way to St Petersburg . . . Miss Taylor will have to fend for herself.

It didn’t take long to reach home. She’d given up her old lodging-house room when she’d gone to Arnovia and when she’d come back to London three months ago, Jack had suggested she should come and room with him in the big, shabby Bloomsbury townhouse he shared with some of his fellow art students. Lil and Jack now lived in a set of rooms on the first floor, and just above them were their friends, Leo and Tilly. The house was a friendly, come-and-go-as-you-like sort of place, which suited Lil down to the ground. There were always the sounds of feet on the stairs, laughter, and spontaneous celebrations when someone sold a painting or passed an examination. There was always someone around to chat – and Lil loved chatting.

But today she felt in no mood to talk to anyone. She needed to be by herself to think: she thumped straight up the stairs and into her own rooms, shutting the door behind her to drown out the cheerful voices of the others.

The sitting room she and Jack shared was, as always, extremely untidy. The wallpaper was peeling in places, and the bare floorboards were only partly covered by worn but gaily coloured mats. Two threadbare armchairs, loaded with paisley-print rugs and colourful cushions, were drawn close to the fireplace. The mantelpiece was a jumble of flowerpots, photographs and party invitations; a playbill for a new show at the Fortune Theatre; and a coloured card advertising an exhibition at the Royal Academy.

Lil took off her hat, and tossed it on to the table, which was scattered with books and papers, along with the remains of Jack’s breakfast – or possibly his supper – a willow-patterned plate scattered with crumbs and an empty cup. Beside it were several tubes of paint and a jam jar of paintbrushes. Jack said the light in the sitting room was good, and often painted here: there were always pictures pinned up unframed, or canvases propped against the wall. Just now there was an easel by the window, showing a half-finished portrait of a girl reading a book. Jack was experimenting with a new semi-abstract style, so the girl had bright yellow hands and a smudgy blue face – but even so, Lil knew that she was meant to be Sophie. She gazed at it for a few seconds, and then flopped down in one of the armchairs, leaning her head back against the cushion. ‘Oh, bother it all,’ she muttered aloud.

Sophie had disappeared in St Petersburg. No one had heard from her for over a month. She had followed the Count von Wilderstein there – but what could he be doing in Russia? In Arnovia, the Count had always seemed a harmless fellow, more interested in tinkering with aeroplanes than anything else. But now Lil knew the truth: he’d conspired in a secret plot to kidnap the Crown Prince, so that he himself could become King, and he was working for the Fraternitas. That meant he must be extremely dangerous.

Miss Taylor must fend for herself, she heard the Chief say again. His voice boomed in her head – suddenly steely, not in the least bit kind. She had asked about Sophie and he had lied to her. Nothing to worry about, he had said. He’d told Forsyth not to tell her the truth, simply because he didn’t want her ‘distracted’ from another mission. And how readily Forsyth had agreed!

In a rush, she thought of everything she and Sophie had done for the Bureau. A few hours ago, she’d felt full of pride in their work – now she only felt stupid. The Chief didn’t really care about them: they were simply useful to him. There are obvious advantages to operating female agents. It was all very well while they were doing what he wanted – but if something went wrong, he would simply wash his hands of them. Miss Taylor must fend for herself.

Anger bubbled up inside her, and all at once, she was seized with a furious desire to march straight back to the Bureau, to fling open the Chief’s door, to tell both him and Forsyth exactly what she thought of them. But she knew that rushing about yelling was not the way to go. She had to be clever about this, she told herself. She had to think as clearly and sharply as Sophie herself would do.

But even as she tried to think, she pictured Sophie – trapped in some far-off police cell, or captured by the Count – and her anger flared all over again. Furious tears rushed into her eyes, quite as if she was one of those idiotic ingénues she had always loathed. Tears won’t help anything, she remembered her old headmistress instructing the girls. They will only make your eyes red and puffy. ‘Don’t cry, you absolute donkey,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Think!’

Just then, she heard a knock on the door. She looked up, surprised. Jack was out at art school – and anyway, he would never have knocked. The other occupants of the house were not much given to knocking either: it was the kind of place where people just barged in. She got up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and went to answer it. Standing just outside the door, holding a small bunch of flowers and grinning at her, was Joe.

For a moment she felt completely confused – and then all at once, she remembered. Of course – they’d made plans to go and see the matinee at the Alhambra, and have tea. She’d thought it was just a casual arrangement – two pals out for an afternoon – but now here Joe was, looking rather handsome in what she knew was his best suit, with his curly hair carefully smoothed.

‘Oh gosh,’ she said. ‘I think you’d better come in.’

It didn’t take long to pour out the story. Joe was a good listener: he didn’t interrupt, sitting beside her as she talked, his eyes fixed seriously on her face. When she told him what the Chief had said about Sophie, he looked astonished – and then very worried indeed. She knew Joe was very fond of Sophie: in a funny way, the two of them were rather alike, both alone in the world without any family of their own. But now Sophie was really alone – far away from all her friends, missing on the other side of Europe.

‘I’m so furious I don’t know what to do,’ she finished up. ‘How can the Chief think of just leaving her there? She could be in any kind of trouble!’

‘I’ll admit, it doesn’t look good,’ said Joe, thinking hard. ‘But don’t despair. We don’t know something bad has happened. Perhaps her messages just haven’t been getting through?’

‘But what if something awful has happened to her?’ They had no way of knowing, Lil realised – and that was the very worst thing of all.

Rather as though he wasn’t sure what else to do, Joe put an arm around her shoulders. For a moment, she felt taken aback. Joe had never really hugged her before – she hadn’t thought of him as the hugging kind. She knew he’d always been a bit sweet on her, but he’d never done anything about it – and besides, she’d never wanted anything more than just to be good chums. But now that Joe’s arm was around her, and her head was against his shoulder; now that his hand had closed over hers – warm and rather rough – her heart began to beat a little faster.

‘She’ll be all right,’ he said gently.

‘We don’t know that. We can’t possibly be sure.’

‘She’s Sophie. She’s tough.’

‘But she’s all alone. We have to do something to help – or at least try and find out what’s happened!’

‘Well, maybe you need to go back and talk to the Chief. Admit what you heard and tell him he’s got to help you get in touch with her. There must be someone in St Petersburg who could help track her down – or you never know, perhaps he’d even let you go out there and look for her?’

But Lil just shook her head. After what he’d said, she was certain there was no way the Chief would agree to send her all the way to Russia to look for Sophie. Besides, she didn’t feel she could ever trust him again, after he’d lied to her face like that. ‘He won’t. Not when he needs me to go to Germany to pick up his stupid report,’ she muttered angrily.

‘Well then, while you’re in Hamburg, the rest of us will start investigating from here. There’s got to be something we can do, some way we can find her . . .’ Joe began.

Hamburg! Lil jumped suddenly upright. ‘Joe – that’s it! You’re a genius!’

Joe looked astonished – and a little disappointed that Lil was no longer snuggled against his shoulder. ‘What d’you mean?’ he asked warily.

But Lil was already on her feet, rummaging through books until she unearthed her copy of Cook’s Continental Guide. ‘Look!’ she exclaimed, thrusting it under his nose, her finger jabbing at a map showing Hamburg, in the north of the German Empire. ‘I’m supposed to go to Hamburg. Well, Hamburg is halfway to St Petersburg – don’t you see?’ She stared at him in excitement. ‘What if I agree to the Chief’s mission, then use it as a cover for a secret mission of my own? I can say I’m going to Hamburg, but actually I’ll travel on to St Petersburg – and I’ll find Sophie myself.’

Joe frowned. ‘But if you did that, then you’d be disobeying your orders from the Chief, wouldn’t you? And he’s not just an ordinary client. These are orders from the government.’

Lil shrugged that off at once. ‘I don’t care about the Chief and his silly old orders. If I did what he wanted, I’d be leaving Sophie in the lurch – and I jolly well won’t do that.’

‘You could get yourself into an awful lot of trouble,’ Joe protested. ‘Not only yourself – but Taylor & Rose too.’

Lil paused for a moment, and then grabbed her hat decisively from the table. ‘Without Sophie there is no Taylor & Rose,’ she said crisply. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find the others. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need everyone’s help.’