Comes the Dark Stranger (13 page)

Graham sighed and started to rise from his chair and Steele rolled over feebly and clutched at Shane’s legs. Shane stumbled on to one knee and Graham jumped forward and neatly wrenched the Luger from his hand. Shane vainly grabbed at his arm. His fingers clawed at the sleeve and as Graham stepped back, the thin nylon material shredded and the entire sleeve came away in Shane’s hand.

In the silence that followed, Shane’s breath hissed sharply between his teeth and the moist air of the conservatory seemed to move in on him with a terrible weightless pressure.

Graham held the Luger at waist height, his bare right arm white against the blue of his shirt. There was only one thing wrong. Around his forearm was tattooed a red and green snake and underneath it the legend: Simon and Martin - friends for life.

Out of the silence Steele cried feebly, ‘Let him have it, Faulkner. It’s either him or us.’

Shane got to his feet and leaned back against the iron pillar. The pain in his head was much worse and when he ran a hand over his face it was damp with sweat. When he finally spoke his voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. ‘What happened, Simon?’ he said. ‘What really happened?’

‘In Korea you mean?’ Simon Faulkner shrugged. ‘I was the one Colonel Li picked out of the hat for his shooting gallery. I wanted to live - it was that simple. He had the firing party sound off outside to fool the rest of you and returned me to my cell. Later on he told me they had a further use for me. To act as a spy in the prison camps in the North.’

‘And didn’t that worry you?’ Shane said.

Faulkner shrugged. ‘I didn’t have much time to think about it because the Americans started bombing the place almost immediately after that.’

‘And how did you manage to get away?’ Shane said.

Faulkner shrugged. ‘Exactly as I told you when you first came to see me.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Everything seemed to be working out perfectly for me and then I stepped on that land mine.’

‘But how did you manage the identity switch with Charles Graham?’

Faulkner grinned and put another cigarette between his twisted lips. ‘I didn’t have to do a thing about it,’ he said. ‘It just happened. When I came round in hospital, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even see. It was then that somebody called me Charles Graham. At first I was too weak to contradict. I knew Graham was dead because I’d seen what was left of him after the bombing. After a while I realized what had happened. The uniform I’d snatched up in Colonel Li’s office was Graham’s and that’s how they’d identified me.’

He laughed harshly. ‘A little later they brought in the colonel of the regiment. When he didn’t recognize me and started rambling on about the wonders they could do with plastic surgery these days, I suddenly realized how simple everything was. There was the money and the business Graham had been left by his uncle and he had no other relatives. The plastic surgery would account for the change and the rest of you were all dead on the hill in the ruins of that blasted temple.’

Shane was beginning to feel tired - very tired and the pain in his head was worse. It was an effort to speak and he shook his head slightly and said, ‘You were still taking a hell of a chance.’

Simon Faulkner nodded. ‘But then it was worth it. You see, I had at least five years facing me when I got back home. I’d rather unwisely gambled on the stock exchange with large sums of money from the firm. I knew it was bound to come out in a matter of weeks. That’s why I volunteered for Korea.’

‘I know,’ Shane told him. ‘Your sister told me all about that.’ A thought suddenly occurred to him and he said with a slight frown, ‘Tell me something - did Laura know about this?’

Faulkner nodded. ‘Yes, I made rather a bad slip. When they’d got through with me at that Plastic Surgery Unit, I was confident that even my own mother couldn’t have connected me with the man who walked out of there. I decided to put it to the test. I wrote to Laura, explaining that I’d been in Korea with her brother and she invited me to visit the house.’

‘And she recognized you?’ Shane demanded incredulously.

‘Believe it or not it was my handwriting she recognized,’ Faulkner laughed. ‘Fate added a nice touch of irony there.’

‘And you admitted everything to her?’

Faulkner nodded. ‘There didn’t seem to be any point in denying it and I was perfectly safe. She didn’t want another scandal. It would have killed my father.’

‘When did things really begin to go wrong?’ Shane said.

Faulkner shrugged. ‘When the end of the war came and the Chinese started to release prisoners. I took the bull by the horns and went to see Crowther when he came home. He didn’t suspect anything for an instant. Reggie Steele came to see me before I could visit him. He let me put on quite a performance for five or ten minutes and then announced that he knew damn well who I really was. He’d been lying in the rubble, pinned by his legs. He’d seen me leave the temple in one piece.’

‘And you had to pay for his silence?’

Faulkner nodded. ‘At first I looked for a way to get rid of him, but then he opened his club and I began to see the possibilities in our association. I provided the brains and he was the figure-head. We’ve made a lot of cash during the last few years.’

‘Did you know he was blackmailing your sister?’ Shane said.

Faulkner shook his head. ‘I’m afraid Laura acted very foolishly there. Steele threatened to expose me to my father if she didn’t play ball with him. She’s suffered needlessly for years. All she had to do was tell me and I could have stopped it by lifting the phone, but then - she didn’t know of my association with Steele.’

Shane was finding it difficult to concentrate. He frowned and passed a hand over his brow. ‘What about Wilby? Where did he fit in?’

Faulkner sighed. ‘That was Steele’s mistake, I’m afraid. It made him feel big to give Wilby a job for old time’s sake when he came whining, cap in hand.’

‘Presumably he discovered your secret?’

Faulkner nodded. ‘He overheard us talking in Steele’s office one evening. It was easy enough to keep his mouth shut. In the first place, he was frightened to death of me and in the second, he was perfectly happy as long as he had enough money to get drunk on. Unfortunately the picture changed for the worse when you appeared on the scene.’

‘You put him in that gas oven?’ Shane said.

Faulkner nodded tranquilly. ‘All of a sudden he was more afraid of you than he was of me. He wrote me a letter in which he said he couldn’t stand it any more. He was going to tell you everything. I went to his house prepared to offer him a bribe large enough to keep his mouth shut until I’d managed to get rid of you one way or another.’

‘And what went wrong?’ Shane said.

Faulkner shrugged. ‘I found him drunk in the kitchen. It was too good an opportunity to miss. I dragged him across to the gas oven and put his head inside.’

‘But how did you manage the suicide note?’ Shane asked.

Faulkner smiled. ‘The final touch of artistry, I left the second page of the letter he had written to me. It looked like a brief note and in it, he referred to you quite damningly.’

‘And all the other things,’ Shane said. ‘The footsteps and the incident in the fog when I saw Laura going into that hotel? You were behind them all?’

‘The club foot seemed a nice touch,’ Faulkner said. ‘After all you appeared to have Colonel Li on the brain and there was no need to kill you. You were going to die anyway. I thought that if I could make you think your reason was going you might leave.’

‘But how about that business at the hotel when Laura vanished?’

‘I didn’t want her visiting my house in case you happened to drop by unexpectedly,’ Faulkner said. ‘I arranged to meet her at that hotel. I was watching from the window and saw you following her. I phoned down to the desk and told the hall porter exactly what to do. I said we were having an affair and you were a nosy private detective employed by the husband.’

‘That still doesn’t explain the phone call I made to her house.’

Faulkner chuckled. ‘But you didn’t make the phone call - the hall porter dialled the number for you. In actual fact he connected you to the room upstairs where we were meeting.’

Everything had dropped neatly into place, but the picture was still incomplete. Shane said slowly, ‘And what about Jenny? Why did you have to kill her?’

Faulkner shrugged. ‘But surely that’s obvious? I wanted rid of you once and for all. After you left Steele at Hampton he managed to call me from a public phone box on the main road. He told me you were going to the club to get that envelope from the safe and he told me what was in it. Not letters from Laura to him as she had told you, but the truth about me. A few minutes later Laura phoned to tell me the same thing. She said that she’d managed to delay you at the house. She wanted me to get to that envelope before you could open it.’

There was no hurt in the knowledge, only a certain sadness and something suspiciously like regret. Shane swallowed hard and said slowly, ‘I see.’

Faulkner shook his head. ‘No, you don’t see at all, Martin. I knew Laura had fallen for you pretty heavily, but stronger than that was her desperate resolve to see that the truth about me was never revealed. She knew it would kill my father.’

‘But none of this explains why you killed Jenny,’ Shane said.

‘After I’d clubbed you down in the alley, I realized that you’d make for the girl’s flat and then I suddenly thought of a way in which I could get rid of you once and for all. You’d been in an institution for years and several people knew of your obsession that one of your comrades had been a traitor in Korea. You’d even been publicly rebuked by the coroner at Wilby’s inquest. All I had to do was to get to the flat before you, murder the girl and club you down when you came in.’

‘But you didn’t just murder her, you bastard,’ Shane said. ‘You butchered her.’

‘But I had to do it that way,’ Faulkner said patiently. ‘You were suspected of being insane. It had to be that sort of murder.’

Steele had managed to struggle to his feet and he slumped into one of the chairs, his face bone white and drawn with pain. ‘What are we going to do with him?’ he said.

Faulkner shrugged. ‘I’m going to shoot him,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s very simple. He forced you to bring him here from the club. He had a gun. There was a struggle and I managed to shoot him.’

Shane took a deep breath and tried to straighten his tired body and then there was a sudden movement in the shrubbery behind him and Lomax moved forward and stood at his shoulder.

Shane felt a tremendous relief flooding through him and he sagged back against the pillar. ‘What kept you?’ he said. ’I was beginning to get worried.’

Lomax grinned. ‘I’ve been here for quite a while,’ he said. ‘There was no reply when I rang the bell at the front door so I had to force a window. You were so busy talking you didn’t hear me come in.’

‘Did you get it all?’ Shane said.

Lomax nodded. ‘Enough - I’ll apologize to you later.’ He turned to Faulkner and said grimly. ‘You’d better hand that thing over - the house is surrounded anyway. You wouldn’t get very far.’

Steele gave a cry of dismay and tried to get to his feet. Faulkner turned quickly and slashed him across the head with the barrel of the Luger and then he moved back until he was leaning against the door which led out on to the terrace.

‘The first man to move gets a bullet between the eyes,’ he said, ‘and I mean it. I’ve nothing to lose and I don’t intend to hang.’

He opened the door to the terrace and as he stepped backwards, his eyes never leaving them, Shane said gently, ‘But you
are
going to hang, Simon. You see I promised a friend of mine earlier in the evening that I wouldn’t kill you. As I didn’t trust myself not to pull the trigger when I had the gun trained on you, I thought I’d better take safety precautions.’ His hand came out of his pocket and he held up the magazine from the Luger.

Faulkner’s whole body seemed to go rigid and then his tortured face twisted with fury. ‘You’re lying!' he said furiously and pulled the trigger. The empty, metallic click echoed through the silence and Shane began to walk slowly towards him.

Behind him Lomax cried out in dismay and clutched at his shoulder but Shane shook him off. He was not conscious of anything except Faulkner’s eyes burning with hate from his ravaged face. This was something personal, something that had to be settled between the two of them.

Faulkner backed slowly away along the terrace, the Luger held out uselessly in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder once and when he turned to face Shane again there was a gleam of hope in his eyes. Shane looked beyond him and saw the iron ladder of the fire-escape and shook his head slowly. ‘You won’t escape me, Simon,’ he said. ‘This is the final ending to the story. This is the moment when all debts are paid.’

Faulkner suddenly flung the Luger at him with all his strength. Shane tried to duck, but it caught him a glancing blow high on the forehead and he cried aloud in agony as something seemed to move inside his brain and the night exploded into coloured lights.

He staggered forward, his hands groping blindly in front of him and Faulkner jumped up on to the balustrade and reached for the ladder. Shane’s right hand secured a grip on an ankle and he pulled. He glanced up and was conscious of the monstrous face glaring down at him, and then Faulkner kicked at him savagely with his other foot.

Shane staggered back, cannoning into Lomax, and Faulkner’s foot slipped and he stepped backwards into space. For a moment he seemed to poise there and then he screamed horribly and disappeared.

The sound of that scream seemed to penetrate into Shane’s brain where it whirled round and round in a decreasing circle and then the light that streamed from the windows seemed to grow into a large ball that started to spin round and round in front of his eyes until it exploded and he plunged into darkness.

16

I
T
was quiet when he awoke - very quiet and he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying in a narrow hospital bed and the walls of the small room and its furniture were all painted white.

After a while he tried to sit up. For some unaccountable reason his head felt detached from the rest of his body and when he raised a hand to his forehead, he encountered a heavy bandage.

He tried to push himself up even further and at that moment the door opened and a nurse entered the room. She was a large, middle-aged woman with a pleasant face and large, capable hands. She moved forward quickly and gently pushed him back against the pillows. ‘You mustn’t do that,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t even move.’

‘Where am I?’ Shane said weakly. ‘What happened?’

‘You’re in a private room at Burnham General Infirmary,’ she said. ‘You’ve been here for the past five days.’

Shane frowned. ‘Five days?’ he said. ‘But I don’t understand.’

She smoothed the sheets quickly and lifted a temperature chart from a hook on the wall. ‘You’ve had a very serious operation. It’s a miracle you’re here at all.’

For a moment her voice seemed to recede into the distance, leaving him alone as he considered the implication of her words and then he took a deep breath and said slowly, ‘Are you trying to tell me that I’ve had the operation that was needed to remove shrapnel from my brain?’

She nodded. ‘That’s right. You were brought in here in a terrible state. Sir George Hammond flew up specially from London to perform the operation. He was hoping you’d regain consciousness before he left, but he had another important operation in Germany so he had to leave yesterday.’

‘So I’m not going to die after all?’ Shane said slowly.

She laughed cheerfully. ‘Good heavens no. You’ll be here for a week or two yet, but you’ll be perfectly fit when you leave.’

She went out of the room and he lay back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling drained of all emotion. Perhaps at some later time he would feel elation, but at the moment he was conscious of nothing - only of an emptiness, a coldness that moved inside him and was not to be explained.

A few minutes later a doctor came in to see him and gave him a routine examination and afterwards, the nurse brought him something to eat.

As she was arranging the tray across his knees, he noticed some flowers in a vase by the window and asked her who had brought them. She smiled. ‘They were from the young lady,’ she said. ‘Miss Faulkner, I think the name is.’

Shane tried to sound casual and unconcerned. ‘She’s been here?’

‘Every day,’ the nurse told him. ‘I’ve promised to phone her the moment you come round.’

After she’d taken the tray away, he lay back against the pillow, staring out through the window at the driving rain and thinking about Laura Faulkner. His senses seemed sharper, more acute than he had ever known them before. He could even smell the perfume of the flowers from across the room and he was filled with an aching longing for her. The door clicked quietly open and he turned eagerly.

Lomax was standing there, a light smile on his face. ‘You look disappointed,’ he said. ‘Expecting someone else?’

Shane grinned weakly. ‘I thought it might be Laura Faulkner.’

Lomax shook his head. ‘Her father was brought in here the same day you were,’ he said. ‘He died yesterday. I understand the funeral is this morning. She’ll probably be pretty busy.’

Shane’s hand tightened over the edge of the sheets and he cursed softly thinking of her on her own. He pushed the thought away from him and said, ‘Got a cigarette?’

Lomax handed him a cigarette and said, ‘She’s got a lot of guts that girl. They buried her brother three days ago and she followed the coffin right to the graveside. That took some doing under the circumstances. From what I can make out he never did much for her or the old man.’

Lomax gave him a light. Shane inhaled gratefully and sighed. ‘I never thought I’d live to enjoy things like this again.’ He gestured to a nearby chair. ‘Sit down and fill me in on what’s happened.’

Lomax took out his pipe. ‘There’s nothing much to tell. Faulkner was killed instantly by his fall. Steele’s in custody. We’ve got him for being an accessory before the fact of at least one murder and a string of other criminal charges. We found some very interesting things when we searched his office. He and Faulkner had their fingers in just about everything from organized prostitution to dope peddling.’

Shane frowned and half-closed his eyes. He tried hard to visualize Simon Faulkner. Simon the good comrade, steady and dependable in a tight corner, always gay and smiling. But it was no use. The memory had become somehow elusive and unreal as if it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

He shook his head helplessly. ‘It shows how little we know anyone - even our closest friends.’ He half-smiled. ‘And what about me? No assault charges? What about that young constable in the alley and the detective on the train? I’m afraid I didn’t have time to be gentle.’

‘Technically I could book you, but under the circumstances …’ Lomax shrugged and got to his feet.

‘I’ll see you again before I leave, I hope,’ Shane said.

Lomax nodded. ‘You can buy me a pint the day you come out.’ He grinned. ‘I must be off. You can lie here in bed if you like, but as far as I’m concerned one crime starts where another finishes.’

As he opened the door, Shane said, ‘Lomax - about Faulkner.’ The detective turned and regarded him curiously and Shane continued. ‘He wasn’t all bad, you know. He saved my life once. I got shrapnel in my foot and he carried me in on his back under heavy fire.’

Lomax shrugged. ‘Like you said, who knows what goes on in the mind of any human being?’ He waved a hand in a small gesture of futility that summed the whole thing up and the door closed softly behind him.

Shane lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about Simon Faulkner and after a while the door opened quietly and Father Costello appeared. He was wearing a dark raincoat and carried a black bag in his right hand. He smiled warmly and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It does my heart good to see you back in the land of the living, Martin.’

‘Thanks to you, Father,’ Shane told him. ‘If you hadn’t had faith in me …’ His voice trailed away into silence.

‘Nonsense,’ Father Costello said. ‘The truth always comes out in the end if we have a little faith.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay. Laura Faulkner’s father died yesterday. The funeral is this morning and she’s asked me to officiate.’

Shane swallowed hard. ‘How is she, Father?’

The priest shrugged. ‘This thing has hit her harder than anything else, Martin. First her brother and the scandal of what he was and did, and now her father.’ He sighed heavily and walked to the door. ‘I’ll tell her I saw you, Martin. If she comes to see you be gentle with her. Poor girl, she’s quite alone.’

After he had gone Shane lay staring out of the window, thinking about Laura Faulkner and after a while he threw back the bedclothes and swung his feet to the floor. When he stood up and walked across to the wardrobe, he felt as if he were floating and there was a slight buzzing in his ears.

His clothes were hanging neatly from several hangers and he changed as quickly as he could. It took him quite a while to fasten the various buttons and, as his hands were trembling so much, he decided not to bother with a tie. He pulled on his trench-coat and walked across to the door.

The corridor was deserted and he moved quickly along it and went down the stairs at the far end. On the ground floor there seemed to be a great many people moving about, some in uniform, but many of them patients. He moved steadily along a corridor that emptied into a pleasant, tiled foyer and facing him was a wide glass door.

A porter in blue uniform and peaked cap was standing in the porch looking out at the rain and Shane said, ‘Excuse me, I understand someone was being buried from the hospital this morning - a Mr Faulkner. Has the cortege left yet?’

The porter turned and looked at him curiously. ‘About fifteen minutes ago, sir.’

‘Have you any idea where the burial is to take place?’ Shane said.

‘St Augustine’s, I believe,’ the porter replied. He frowned suddenly as Shane half-closed his eyes and swayed a little. ‘Are you all right, sir?’

Shane nodded. ‘Nothing to worry about. I’m not long out of bed, that’s all.’ He moved down the steps quickly before the porter could inquire further and waved for a cab from the nearby rank.

When they reached the church, he told the driver to wait for him and walked slowly through the gate and along a narrow path lined with poplar trees which led to the cemetery.

He could hear Father Costello’s voice as he went forward and then he saw them. There were no more than half a dozen people grouped round the grave and the priest’s voice sounded brave and strong as the rain fell on his bare head.

Shane moved off the path and stood behind a large, marble monument. Laura was standing on the far side of the grave. She wore a black, close fitting suit and there were dark smudges under her eyes. The Dobermann sat beside her and Shane saw that she had one hand fastened firmly about the dog’s collar as if he were the last friend she had left on top of earth.

Shane recoiled at the horrid sound the first spadeful of wet earth made as it rattled against the coffin. He shivered and turned away and walked quickly between the gravestones that reared out of the clammy earth, back towards the gate.

He sat in the cab and waited and after a while they came through the gate. Father Costello talked to her for a moment or two, holding her hand, his face kind and gentle and then she got into a hired car with the dog and they drove away.

Shane told his driver to follow and leaned back against the cushions and lit a cigarette. His body was trembling slightly and the smoke made him feel sick. He tossed the cigarette out of the window and wiped cold sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He had no idea of what he was going to say to her. He was only sure of one thing. He needed her more than he had ever needed anything or anybody in his life before.

The hired car dropped her at the gate of the house and Shane waited until she had disappeared through the gate before paying off his driver and following her.

The place seemed more derelict than ever and the curtains were drawn across the windows, giving them somehow the appearance of great, sightless eyes that looked blindly down at him.

He walked round the side of the house and down towards the studio. The rain increased with a sudden rush into a torrential downpour and a rook lifted out of the trees above the river, protesting shrilly. Shane mounted the steps to the studio and opened the door.

The Dobermann moved across the room like a dark shadow, a growl dying in its throat and unexpectedly nuzzled his hand. Laura Faulkner had been standing by the great glass window and she turned quickly.

Her eyes looked somehow too large in her fine-drawn face. She gazed incredulously at him and then a tiny moan escaped from her mouth and she took a hesitant step forward.

In a moment she was in his arms and he held her close as a storm of weeping engulfed her. After a while she stopped crying and looked up at him with a wan smile. ‘Should you be out of hospital?’

He grinned. ‘They’re probably going crazy at the moment, but that doesn’t matter. I wanted to see you.’ There was a slight pause and he said, ‘I’m sorry about your father.’

She sighed and moved away from him. ‘I’m not, now that it’s all over. It hasn’t been much of a life for him during these last few years.’

‘Or for you,’ Shane said.

She took a deep breath. ‘Before we go any further there are one or two things you should know. I knew that Charles Graham was really Simon.’

‘I know,’ Shane said gently. ‘Simon told me just before he died.’

‘But there’s one other thing you should know,’ she said in an expressionless voice. ‘The night you came here after making Steele give you the key to his safe and told me you intended going to his office for the letters. I warned Simon. That’s what I was doing when you surprised me on the telephone.’

‘I know that, too,’ Shane told her.

For a moment she registered surprise and then her shoulders slumped and she said wearily. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me, but I didn’t know about the other things. I didn’t realize he was trying to drive you insane.’

Shane took a quick step forward and pulled her close. ‘But I
do
believe you,’ he said.

She gazed up at him in wonder and then shook her head. ‘But why should you?’

He shrugged. ‘Because I love you. I think I loved you on that first day. And I need you desperately, just as much as you need me. We’ve both been reborn in a way and birth is a painful process. The most painful of all. It’s not going to be easy for either of us to pick up the threads of a new life on our own.’

For a timeless moment she gazed up at him and there were tears in her eyes and then she smiled and taking his hand, tugged him towards the door.

‘Where are we going?’ he demanded in bewilderment.

‘To get my car,’ she said firmly. ‘You’re going straight back to hospital.’

For a moment he was going to argue, but she looked up at him belligerently. He laughed softly, feeling suddenly happy for the first time in years, and together they walked up the path towards the house with the Dobermann trailing at their heels.