The Guardian of Secrets: And Her Deathly Pact (38 page)

Chapter 37

S
imon placed a telephone call to John Stein’s London home and waited impatiently for the connection to go through. Eventually, a voice on the other end of the line answered, and Simon broke the news.

“I’ll be right there,” John Stein said before hanging up.

An hour later, in Simon ‘s office, John and Simon faced another man in his late twenties, who fidgeted nervously on the high-backed chair facing Simon ‘s desk.

“Could you describe the man again?” John asked the man.

“Yes, he was my age. Tall, dark haired, bearded, and walked with a limp. At least, that’s the way he looked when last I saw him.”

“What do you mean by that?” Simon asked him.

“Well, he might have changed his appearance again. When I first met him, he was very different. He had fair hair, long for a man, wavy, curled almost, and he was clean-shaven.”

“And you never got a name?” John asked, looking at Simon.

“No. He never told me his name, said it didn’t matter who he was. He just said that he was going to help me.”

“Help you… in what way?” Simon asked.

The man squirmed in his chair and averted his eyes. “Well, you see, I’d got myself into a bit of bother financially. I was very stupid.”

John walked around the desk and sat on the edge of it. “You say he helped you? How did he help you?”

The man looked nervously at the two faces on him now. “This is all strictly confidential, right?” he asked them both.

“Yes, yes of course,” Simon told him. “You can say anything you like in here; it won’t go any further.”

“All right… I met him at a poker game. My gambling addiction was ruining me, but I couldn’t stop. I tried everything, I really did, but I just couldn’t stop. He helped me get some creditors off my back that first night, the night we met. After that, we became friends… or so I thought.”

“Friends!” John laughed sarcastically.

“Yes, you have to understand that he was good to me at first. He paid my debts to men who might have killed me. We always met at a game or in a bar beforehand. I never found out where he lived, but I knew he was hiding something, what with the changes he made to himself. But he could have been running from anything or anyone. He didn’t seem like a killer, not at first. He asked me to get him a new name on official identity papers, which I did, illegally of course. I knew it was wrong, but as I said, I owed him a lot of money, gambling money. Anyway, the name on the identity papers I gave him was Harry Miller. That’s the name he asked for, and that’s what I gave him.”

John and Simon exchanged glances. “And how did your relationship develop after that?” John asked, his anger growing.

“Well, we started off as friends, as I’ve already told you, but then Harry began to threaten me and blackmail me, and because of the money I owed him, I had to do everything he asked of me. He blackmailed me into helping him dump the body of a girl he’d killed. God forgive me, but I was desperate at the time. He made me use my connections to gain access to men with money. He said he would tell my wife, my boss, and the whole consulate about my gambling habit… I would have been finished! I had to do as he asked.”

John exchanged a satisfactory look with Simon. The man was definitely talking about Joseph. This was what they’d been waiting for, and what they’d almost given up on.

“And how did you find out about us, Mr Smyth Burton?” John asked the man.

“By sheer luck, actually. I was trying to find a way out of the mess I’d got myself into. I thought I’d better get out of Paris; Harry made my skin crawl. I asked for a transfer just before this mess in Europe began. My consulate gave me a date to leave, and I just kept lying to Harry, hoping that he wouldn’t do anything before I got out. As I said, Harry had bailed me out of a few jams as well as given me money to keep playing at the table, and I convinced him that I had found the money and was in a position to pay him back. And that’s when I arranged to meet him.”

“And did you?”

“No, I arranged the meeting after my transfer date and after I knew I’d be safely on the boat to England.”

“Answer Mr Stein’s question, please. How did you find out who he really was—and about us?” Simon asked him, a disrespectful tone in his voice.

“It was on the night before I was due to leave. I was ordered by my superiors to take some papers to our security office at the front gate; the entire consulate department in the embassy was being locked down because of the threat of war. Anyway, when I went there, I saw some documents and posters with Miller’s photograph printed on them, an old photograph. The poster said that the man’s name was Joseph Dobbs, and that he was wanted for a murder in London. It also said that you two were to be contacted if any sightings of the man were made…”

John loathed weak men like the one in front of him. His kind destroyed their own lives by their own free will, which didn’t bother him, but in most cases, they also destroyed the lives of their families along with them. He stared at the man’s scared, pathetic face a moment longer and decided that he wasn’t an evil man, but that he did remind him of Joseph Dobbs.

“Why in God’s name didn’t you report him to your consulate?” he asked Roddy in a harsh and bitter tone. “Let me get this straight. You had this man in your sights. You had the perfect opportunity to meet with him, set him up, take the police and anyone else you could find to arrest him, and instead you ran away.”

“Yes, yes! He was a bad lot… I was terrified of him. And I was afraid he’d tell my wife or the police or my boss about the prostitute. Harry told me that if anything happened to him, he’d inform the authorities that I killed the girl. I believed everything he told me. He was very convincing, so I thought the authorities would too. I almost lost everything because of him.”

“You didn’t almost lose everything because of him!” Simon shouted now. “You lost everything because of your gambling habit and your own stupidity!”

Roddy looked at both men standing over him and began to cry. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this… but I just can’t seem to stop gambling, and I am so afraid for my wife and son. I’m sorry for everything, but you must understand why I had to do the things I did.” “So is there nothing further you can tell us?” John asked, leaning over the desk, unable to hide his contempt and unwilling to lose any more of his precious time.

“No, I’m sorry, nothing more.” Roddy shook his head. “Do I get the reward now?”

John cursed loudly and crossed the short space between them. Still cursing, he grabbed Roddy by the shoulders, pulled him out of the chair, and pushed him against the wall. He shot him a venomous look that forced Roddy to turn away and utter an apology.

“All right, all right, I don’t want the money! Just don’t hit me, please!”

John turned Roddy’s head with his fingers until Roddy’s face was inches from his own. “Listen to me, Mr Smyth Burton,” he said between gritted teeth. “If it weren’t for the fact that you are wearing the king’s uniform, I’d have you handcuffed and led away to jail right now for harbouring a known criminal and subverting the course of justice. But seeing that you do wear the king’s uniform, I’ll allow you to walk out of this office in the hope that fighting for your country just might make you a better man. And one last thing: rest assured that should you come back alive, I’ll hunt you down and force you back to Paris to find the murdering bastard you called friend! Do we understand each other?”

John and Simon discussed various scenarios into the late afternoon. They were at a loss as to what to do next. Europe was at war. They were at war, and Joseph Dobbs was in France, which was being overrun by Germans.

John paced up and down the room. They had both decided that for the moment, there was absolutely nothing they could do apart from sending out more wanted notices with old and new descriptions of Joseph, hoping that someone in Paris still gave a damn.

“I would go. War or no war, I would go and get the bastard!” John told Simon.

“I know you would, John, but you’re going to Europe now to fight. Christ, the timing couldn’t be worse.”

“I know.”

“We’ll have to be patient a while longer and hope that Joseph stays put in Paris. There’s nothing else for it.”

“And there’s no way the Paris Consulate could deal with this?” John asked.

“No, I doubt it. It’s running on a skeleton staff. All the European consulates are, and some of them have shut down already. We can’t count on help from them or from the Paris police forces. They won’t waste their time on this. Men are being called up, and nothing in the civil quarter is functioning properly anywhere in Europe.”

“Is there no one we can send, then?” John asked again, clutching at straws.

Simon Ayres smiled with humorous cynicism. “We can send the entire British Army if you like. They’re going that way anyway!”

By March 1916, any hopes for an early end to the war were dismissed. The battles raged on, and four hundred thousand men were killed in the campaign of the Western Front alone. While their lives remained more or less unaltered, the Martinéz family could only read about the horrors. The children were growing healthy and strong. The twins were crawling and taking their first hesitant steps, and they had begun to illustrate their very different characters. Pedro was two and a half years old and had started to chatter in a language that his frustrated parents had yet to decipher. Miguel, though a somewhat reserved little boy, was beginning to develop into a sensitive and intelligent child.

Celia wrote constantly to Marie, hoping that her letters would get through the barricades of war, and to her great delight, she received a letter in return:

June
1916

Dearest
Celia,

John
and
Arty
Weisman
have
been
called
once
again
for
active
service.
I
don’t
know
where
they
will
be
sent,
but
for
the
moment
at
least,
I
know
that
they
are
safe
here
in
London.
John
looked
splendid
in
his
officer’s
uniform,
and
he
has
been
made
captain
now,
after
his
gallantry
at
the
Battle
of
Artois.
He
came
to
see
me
last
week
and
told
me
that
he
had
received
his
new
orders,
but
of
course
he
didn’t
say
where
he’d
be
going.
I
feel
as
though
he’s
just
returned,
and
I’m
quite
perplexed
at
his
being
sent
away
again.
He
could
have
done
with
a
longer
rest,
in
my
opinion.
Even
so,
I
tried
to
be
strong
when
I
saw
him,
and
we
had
a
jolly
good
time
at
Claridge’s,
where
we
had
tea
and
scones,
of
course.
Pip
and
the
children
are
going
to
stay
with
her
father
in
the
country,
and
she
kindly
asked
if
I
would
like
to
join
them.
I
said
no,
as
I’m
actively
involved
now
in
doing
my
own
bit
for
the
war
effort.

The
Germans
hit
London
the
other
night.
We
knew
that
a
Zeppelin
air
raid
against
us
was
not
impossible,
as
Paris
has
already
been
bombarded
twice,
but
when
it
finally
happened
to
us
here
at
home,
we
were
all
in
a
total
state
of
shock,
and
we’ve
been
told
to
expect
more
of
the
same.
I
wish
you
could
see
us
here,
my
darling.
London
is
an
abysmal
place,
and
as
you
can
imagine,
everyone
has
long
faces.
Their
fear
is
written
in
their
eyes,
and
they
are
filled
with
war
weariness,
as
am
I.