Fitzrovia Twilight (Nick Valentine Book 1) (22 page)

              “Of course, but yet here you are playing it again.”

              “So why did Carruthers have me try to find Ramona’s killer?” Nick said puzzled.

              “Because he misjudged you. He kills her then they find your name in her pocket. He does some digging, sees your past and has you down as a washed-up spy drinking out your early retirement. What an opportunity! He tells the police not to investigate as it’s a national security matter then puts you on the trail. If anyone asks it seems like he’s done a good thing, he’s looking to solve it, but he didn’t expect you to find anything or come close. You blunder around upsetting people like he knew you would, putting the pressure on Jurgen; he tipped you off about them of course?”

              Nick nodded glumly.

              “Exactly,” she beamed. “You put these people under pressure and flush them out, he knows you won’t find the murderer because you’re floundering in the dark, and anyway it’s him and no one would ever suspect that.”

              “What did she have on him, apart from the affair?”

              “That I don’t know. Carruthers has access to some sensitive stuff. Not being part of your country’s intelligence organisation, I wasn’t considered trustworthy enough to be told what he might have. In fact, I wasn’t told at all. I have deduced it myself. Ramona had something else, something that would ruin his career rather than his family life.”

              “The bank details and list of names?”

              “What?”

              “I found part of a page of a statement for a Swiss account, and also some Eastern European-looking names on a piece of paper.”

              “That would make sense. Carruthers is involved in the intelligence planning for the Balkans.” She smiled. “Something else I wasn’t told, but I know.”

              “Well, you are quite the well of information aren’t you?”

              “If only you knew.” Her smile faded. “That account might be Carruthers’ account. Maybe she took it and was blackmailing him about that. I wonder if he is as loyal as we think?” she mused.

              “He lies, kills the woman he’s been sleeping with and is reckless with secret documents; why not add greed and disloyalty to the list? You think he’s passing information?”

              Lucia bit her bottom lip, her forehead creasing slightly. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him. We should try to find out. I’m sure that’s the kind of information my British handler would be glad to know. It could mean a good bonus.”

              “How many people are you working for?” Nick asked, “Just out of interest.”

              “A few,” she said offhandedly.

              “It must get confusing, and dangerous?”

              “It does, but it keeps me busy. I can’t stand boredom.” Her teeth flashed white in a smile. “The problem is I can never stay one place too long. Sooner or later someone gets uncomfortable with the arrangement.” She shrugged. “Then it’s time to leave. It’s tough to make friends and easy to make enemies in this business.”

              “Speaking of friends, what will Jurgen do now?”

              “What Clara tells him to,” she replied simply. There was an awkward silence. “You really had no idea?” she asked softly.

              “No.”

              “I see. Clara is a beautiful woman.”

              “She’s a beautiful person, too. We were in love.”

              “Were?”             

              “Are!” Nick growled.

              “You didn’t seem too in love with her when you kissed me earlier.” Her hand rested on his thigh. He didn’t move it. He frowned.

              “Let’s not complicate things. It was a kiss, that’s all. You used it to distract me and it worked.”

              “Or maybe because I wanted to do it, too,” she said.

Nick looked at her and their eyes locked for a little too long before Nick looked away. “And maybe because you did, too.”

She breathed, leaning closer. Nick could smell her fragrant scent. The hand was burning hot on his leg. He broke from her gaze and grabbed clumsily for his glass.

“Just like I wanted to tell you about Clara. I did try to warn you…”

              “What do you know about Clara?” he said a little more gruffly than he’d meant to.

              Lucia dropped her hand from his thigh and leant back. “I met her here. I didn’t know until tonight that she was an agent, too. Never trust the Swiss. All that neutrality’s not healthy,” she laughed. “Jurgen didn’t know either. Wheels within wheels, Nick. She’d been sent here as a sleeper by the SS to embed, but the certain parties back home had got increasingly impatient with Jurgen’s running of the operation. That’s why they sent me in. What none of us knew was that Clara was also keeping an eye on things here.” She shook her head. “That will be the undoing of these Nazis. They are ruthless and ambitious, but they are also paranoid and suspicious. Everyone is watching everyone.”

              “What do you think they’ll do now?”

              “Get out of London.”

              “Just like that? Pack up and go? They’ve got nothing worthwhile.”

              Lucia was gnawing her bottom lip, looking at Nick.

              “What is it?”

              “Nick, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

              “What? What do you know?”

              Her hand was back on his leg; she’d done it subconsciously. Now it was him leaning into her.

              “Nick, I don’t need to think about what they’ll do. I know.”

Nick looked at her in confusion. He opened his mouth but she beat him to it.

“She was here – Clara – just before you came.”

              “What?” Nick leapt down from the barstool. “When? Where did she go?”

              “Oh, Nick,” Lucia said, sadly shaking her head. “Please don’t do this.”

              He grabbed her shoulders. “Lucia, you have to tell me. Where have they gone?”

              “She came, to give me a message to give to you. Jurgen was with her. They were arguing. She wants to get out of London now. Jurgen won’t. He doesn’t want to go home empty-handed. They think Carruthers has the pictures Ramona had. Even if he doesn’t they’re going to get what they can from him. Clara didn’t want to do it, but Jurgen was insistent.”

              “Oh my God,” said Nick.

              “Yes. They’re going to call Carruthers to arrange a meet, tell him everything they know, everything we’ve discussed, and try to blackmail him to meet them with the plans.”

              “He won’t do that. They’ll be killed.”

              “He might. He’s a coward. He may do it as a one-off to get them off his back, but you are right, he could also engineer a trap. It’s more likely.”

              “We have to stop them!” Nick exclaimed.

              “We?”

              He looked pleadingly into her eyes. “You’re not going to help?”

              “I have haven’t I? I’ll help you some more. Stay here and drink. Don’t get involved. We’re out of this now.”

              “Is it that easy for you? In and out like that? The woman I love may be heading to her death.”

              “Then you should go,” she said, looking away.

              “Where were they going?”

              “They were heading to Bar Italia down the road. Italian Intelligence have a sleeper in there. They use it for meeting and to pick up what they need. They were going there to pick up weapons and arrange the meet. Nick, please, don’t go. Leave it,” she implored him.

              “I can’t. I have to do this. I can stop them and convince Clara we have a future.” He turned to go then paused and turned back towards her. “You said there was a message for me from Clara?”

              She smiled mournfully. “I love you.”

CHAPTER 22

Bar Italia was little more than a red and green, neon-lit doorway in Soho with a tunnel-like room running behind it. It was a twenty-four-hour beacon of light and warmth in a mostly dark street at that early hour of the morning. Condensation fogged the solitary plate glass windows and inside, people sat huddled in tattered, wooded booths over strong, steaming coffee, the strong aroma drenching the senses even from outside. At this hour, it was an almost solitary source of light, spilling a garish glow into the fog-bound street. The harsh electric lighting made the frontage of the shop glow in the mist.

Inside, the patrons sat hunched in conversation over their coffees, the stark lighting casting their faces pale as ghosts. From outside, Nick could not get a clear view of the interior. The panes dripped inside and out so that all he could make out were blurred forms. He edged the door open and slipped quietly in. Somewhere a wireless played mournful Italian folk music, which crackled into the ether, struggling to be heard over the hisses and clatter of the busy coffee counter. Clouds of steam seemed to hang in the air, mingling with the wreaths of cigarette smoke hanging over the gentle hum of late-night chatter.

              The blast of fresh night air that accompanied Nick’s entrance caused a few faces to glance up from their tables, among them the two Italians from the embassy sat in a booth near the back. Nick recognised Clara’s blonde hair. Registering the look of alarm on the men’s faces, Clara and Jurgen spun round as one of the Italian men rose to his feet. A heavyset man stepped out from behind the counter to block Nick’s way, but Jurgen waved him away and Nick continued to the table of four. Clara looked at him hopefully. The men glared. Nick smiled.

              “What do you want?” Jurgen barked.

              “That’s very kind of you. I’ll have a cappuccino please,” Nick beamed.

              “I wasn’t offering you a drink,” the German snarled.

              “Oh, nevertheless, I’d love one,” Nick smiled, squeezing the outraged Italian along and sitting down on the end of the booth’s bench. The standing Italian was now stranded and sandwiched in, he looked uncertainly between Nick and Jurgen before grumpily sitting down, his shoulder turned away from Nick slightly in suspicion. Jurgen tapped the table impatiently with a finger.

“Well, this is cosy,” Nick remarked.

              “What are you doing here?” Jurgen asked.

              Nick shifted his gaze from the man to Clara. She was silent. He looked deep into her eyes. “I came here for you,” he said softly.

              “How touching,” sneered Jurgen.

Clara’s eyes didn’t leave Nick’s face.

              “Forget all this, leave with me now,” Nick pleaded.

              Clara bit her lip. “I can’t. Oh, Nick, can’t you see? I have to leave…”

              “No! No, you don’t. You can stay. Let Jurgen take care of this fools’ errand. Do you really think Carruthers is going to hand over classified documents to you? It’s a trap. He’ll kill you.”

              “How do you know about that?” demanded Jurgen.

              “It’s obvious. You haven’t got what you wanted or you would have left by now. You can’t take down Carruthers, though. It’s madness.”

              “Nick, please,” Clara spoke softly. “We’re going to get what we need from Carruthers and leave. Come with us.”

              “Are you out of your mind?” Jurgen spat incredulously, cutting Clara off. “We are not taking a British agent with us! What is this madness?”

              The two Italians were now muttering darkly in their own tongue, clearly concerned at the turn of events. Nick gave a sigh.

              “Clara, ignore him. You can stay here. Your cover’s not blown. Let Jurgen go after Carruthers if he wants. I don’t care about all this. We’re not at war. We can carry on.”

              “For how long? Nick, I am so sorry. I never meant to deceive you. What we had, it’s real. This other stuff, I’m so sorry, I have my country and my duty.” She trailed off.

              “I understand,” Nick said softly. “It’s fine.”

              “My role was as a sleeper agent. The club was a good cover and a good place to pick up information, all sorts of people came through…”

              “You don’t have to tell me this. It doesn’t matter. What matters is us. I don’t care about this.” Nick gestured at the table as he interrupted. Jurgen watched them both coolly through narrowed eyes.

              “I want to tell you, Nick. I want you to know. I want to get this off my chest. I’ve so wanted to tell you; so many times I came close. I was here to arrange things, send communiqués home. Then I met you. Oh, Nick, I wanted to tell you.” She cast her eyes down and Nick could tell she was struggling not to cry.

              “That’s why I couldn’t have keys to your flat,” Nick smiled.

              “Yes.” She looked back up and gave a little laugh, dabbing at her eyes. “We could have carried on, but this operation –” she indicated Jurgen – “went bad. I was told to step in, to clean it up, ensure we got the information we were after and get out.”

              “It was not messed up,” Jurgen interrupted.

              Clara looked at him sharply. “Really? Then how come we find ourselves at this point? Trying to bargain with Carruthers to hand over information? Risking our lives on the hope of blackmail to get a list of names? We’re better off dead to him; he knows that. If you had kept Ramona on a tighter leash and run your operation properly we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

              “That is easy for you to say; you weren’t involved!”

              “No, if I had been we wouldn’t have ended up here.”

              The two of them were spitting words at each other now.

              “So, now you are the boss. For now,” Jurgen added sarcastically, “are you going to let your boyfriend talk you out of the final part of the operation?”

              “No. We go ahead.” She stared him down and Jurgen looked away in disgust.

              “What is it that is so damn important anyway?” Nick asked.

              Jurgen looked at Nick in surprise. “You don’t know?”

              Nick shrugged. “Enlighten me.”

              “My God, all your blundering around and you don’t even know what you are looking for,” Jurgen exclaimed.

              “I don’t think we should…” Clara started, but Jurgen waved at her impatiently.

              “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect British security. You see, Nick, we are only trying to make Germany safe. What we are after has no bearing on your country.”

              Nick frowned. “Then why are you here at all and what’s Carruthers got to do with it?”

              Jurgen gave a sly smile. “You may well ask. It seems Carruthers has sympathies elsewhere, apart from his homeland. Unfortunate idealist sympathies. Perhaps you share them, Nick?” Jurgen raised an eyebrow.

              “I would have to know what they were first,” Nick replied calmly, but his mind was racing. What was Carruthers mixed up in?

              “Carruthers is from quite a humble background. His parents broke themselves to afford to send him to university, then when he got into the Service he finds that everyone looks down on him not only because of his background, but because he didn’t got to Oxford or Cambridge.” Jurgen sniffed. “So, it seems he got disillusioned slightly with everyone else’s sense of enlightenment –  their big houses in the country, their cars, the jobs they were going to walk into when he had to work so hard. From there it was a short move into a leftist group, and from there, unfortunately, to sympathy for the Bolshevik scourge. It seems his idealistic principles make him willing to take money from Russia in exchange for information. He also has access to information himself and this is what we require.”

              “He’s passing secrets to the Russians?” Nick asked incredulously.

              “Only when it does not compromise British security, but yes, for now at least.” Jurgen gave a sigh. “He has somehow got into his possession a list of persons in some Eastern European countries that we would be most anxious to speak to. The time will not be far off when Germany will reclaim what was taken from it at the end of the last war and–”

              “Taken?” Nick interrupted.

              “What else would you call it? We will reclaim what is ours and when that happens, or even before, we need to be sure that we eliminate the enemies of the German state.”

              “He has a list of Russian spies throughout Eastern Europe,” Nick stated.

              Jurgen nodded. “Ramona discovered this and photographed the documents. Unfortunately she then got greedy and then got herself killed. So you see, we need to recover those documents or even better, get the originals from Carruthers himself. Then we can go home.”

              Nick nodded. The photographs in his breast pocket felt suddenly very heavy. “Why would he give them to you?”

              “He is not a man of principle. He has shown that already. We can expose his affair with Ramona, which would be personally ruinous, and we can expose to his employers his Swiss account with payments from the Russian intelligence services.”

              “It was his account.” Nick murmured.

              “What?” Jurgen asked.

              “I found a page of bank statement that Ramona had, and some names written on a scrap of paper. She must have copied those as well as taking the photos.”

              “Where is that list now?” Jurgen demanded.

              “I gave them to him,” Nick said.

Everyone’s faces fell around the table.

“But hold on. Before you were leaving with those other documents, how do you now know about this list?”

              Clara and Jurgen exchanged a glance. Nick filled in the blank. “Lucia.” She had exposed Carruthers to Jurgen and Clara, to put them on his trail. She had to figure that however it ended up, her job was done and she could get away clean. The outcome didn’t matter to her; she’d just shift the heat away from herself so she could move onto the next job.

“You really think he’ll cooperate?” Nick asked.

              Clara shrugged. “I hope so.”

              “Ja, he will. The man is a coward. He won’t risk being unmasked as a traitor and adulterer when he can give us some information that won’t affect him one way or the other.”

              “Of course, if he kills you all then he gets to keep his reputation, the plans, and smashes a German spy ring in London,” Nick observed.

              “It’s possible, but unlikely.” Jurgen shrugged. He patted his jacket. “I have the negatives and photos of the account details here. I will swap them for the list. For him it’s a good exchange.”

Clara looked less sure.

              “Clara,” Nick turned his full focus back on to her. “Let them go and take care of this, please? We can carry on here. No one needs know. We can maintain your cover. It’s not as if we are at war yet.”

              “Actually her cover is blown,” Jurgen stated in a matter of fact tone, lighting a cigarette. He waved around the table. “We all know, Lucia knows. Not too clever for a sleeper agent. Why don’t you tell him, Clara?”

              She nodded miserably. “It’s true, Nick. I think I’ve been rumbled anyway. I’ve noticed I’ve been followed on a few occasions, new faces appearing. If they’re not onto me they suspect at least. It was coming to an end for me here anyway. Now you know. It’s too much of a risk. You know what happens to spies.”

              Nick swallowed and nodded. He studied her carefully to tell if she was lying, but she looked too dejected.

She shook her head at him and smiled weakly. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I never meant for it to end up like this. I love you, but I have to go. Please come with me. We can make a new life in Berlin.”

              Jurgen snorted. “Well, my report is going to make interesting reading.”

              “What do you mean by that?” Clara whirled and demanded of him.

              “Well, here we are, about to go operational to retrieve vital intelligence, a dangerous situation, about to flee the country after that, and we are sat here with a British spy, your lover, who you now invite to Germany!” He gave a twisted smile and sat back. “I’m sure high command will find it most interesting.”

              Clara flushed. “Perhaps, but love is not a crime. At least I have not comprised a whole operation through incompetent bungling.”

              Now Jurgen flushed and his face screwed up angrily. “Love! Pah, this is getting us nowhere. Come, we have to go.”

              “Clara!” Nick grabbed her hand across the table. “Leave with me now, please.”

              “I can’t. Nick, please I love you, but the time, it’s just not right. This rotten war is coming again. Let’s not kid ourselves.” She smiled sadly. “Our timing is bad, our luck is even worse.”

              “Luck can change,” Nick said softly.