Mission to Monte Carlo Read online

  “See that the Baron has written exactly what I said and that there are no hidden instructions of which we are not aware.”

  She read it very carefully before saying,

  “I think it is all right.”

  Craig took it from her and said to the Baron,

  “If by some forethought you have left instructions that, if Randall Sare should be sent for or in any other way taken from the prison in which you have incarcerated him, he is to be killed, let me make it quite clear that if he does not come here alive, then your life will be forfeited for his.”

  “You would not dare!” the Baron exclaimed furiously.

  “I would not bet on that,” Craig replied very quietly, and it seemed to Aloya watching him as if he somehow grew larger and exuded a power that menaced the Russian.

  For a moment the eyes of the two men met as if in conflict, then the Baron looked away first and he said gruffly,

  “Sare will come, but we will get him sooner or later, Vandervelt, and you!”

  “I should imagine it is a very outside chance,” Craig replied lightly.

  He called the Steward back into the room, handed him the note which he had put into an envelope and, without waiting for any further instructions, the Steward left.

  Craig rose from the table.

  “I suggest, as it is rather depressing to sit here with your two unconscious countrymen, Baron, that we move into the Saloon which will be more comfortable. I am sure you would like a glass of brandy to finish the meal and perhaps take away the taste of Tokay.”

  He glanced at the Russian with his head still lying on the table as he spoke, then, as Aloya rose, Lord Neasdon said as if he could no longer contain himself,

  “I demand an explanation as to why I was not told that this sort of thing was going to happen!”

  “The only explanation I am prepared to give will be in a report to your superior at the Foreign Office and I hope for your sake he listens sympathetically.”

  The warning note in his voice made Lord Neasdon go pale and, when they had moved into the Saloon, he threw himself down petulantly in a chair as if he could not bear to look at his host or Aloya.

  He picked up a newspaper and it was only after he had been pretending to read it for several minutes that he realised it was upside-down.

  The Baron was silent and Craig knew he was thinking desperately of how he could avenge himself for what was an unexpected coup.

  Craig, however, was primarily concerned with Aloya and, as if she knew what he wanted, she walked down the Saloon looking at the pictures, discussing them with him and inspecting the books of which there was a large shelf in one corner.

  After what seemed a long time, but was actually quicker than Craig dreamed possible, his secretary opened the door to say,

  “The car has arrived, Mr. Vandervelt.”

  Craig walked without speaking to the door where he could see Randall Sare stepping out from the car.

  There was one Russian already on the quay waiting to help him and another following.

  They each took his arm as he walked the few steps towards the gangplank and Craig knew it was not only to be of assistance, but also to keep him prisoner in case he should try to escape from them.

  When they reached the gangplank, there was room only for one person to move up it at a time and one Russian walked ahead with Sare like a sandwich between him and his colleague.

  He stepped aboard and as he did so a sailor who had been standing to attention put his arm around his neck to pull him backwards and Craig moved forward with a swiftness that came from years of practice and pulled Sare out of the way of the man behind him.

  He was fumbling for the gun that was in his pocket, but he was too late.

  Before he could get hold of it he was in the vice-like grip of two sailors and both the Russians were carried quickly out of sight while Craig drew Randall Sare into the Saloon.

  He put his arm around him protectively and as he did so realised that he was very thin, almost emaciated.

  He saw too there was a look on his face that meant he had not completely readjusted himself to life and was still dazed from being in the spiritual world into which his trance had taken him.

  Then, as they entered the Saloon and somebody closed the door behind them, Aloya gave a cry of happiness,

  “Papa!”

  She threw her arms around her father and he smiled at her and it was as if the clouds moved away from his eyes.

  “Are you all right, my darling?”

  Randall Sare’s voice was low and very hoarse.

  “I should be asking that of you, Papa,” Aloya said and tears were running down her cheeks.

  “I am all right,” Randall Sare replied, “but still a little bewildered.”

  Craig helped him into a chair.

  “Sit down,” he said, “and I will bring you a glass of champagne, but what is more important, I know, is that you require food.”

  “Yes, you must be very hungry,” Aloya added.

  Even as she spoke, a Steward brought in a bowl of soup on a silver tray and set it down beside him.

  “Light and nourishing,” Craig said with a note of laughter in his voice. “I remember you told me that a long time ago and I have not forgotten.”

  “You have a good memory, Craig,” Randall Sare said, “and I received your message last night.”

  “I thought you would.”

  The two men’s eyes met for a moment and they knew how closely attuned they were to each other.

  Then, as Aloya knelt at her father’s feet, slowly as if he knew it was a mistake to hurry, he sipped small spoonfuls of the warm soup.

  Craig went back to stand in front of the Baron.

  “I think, Baron,” he said, “although it seems a pity that our acquaintance should end so abruptly, I should send you back to your yacht. My car is outside waiting to carry you there and your friends will be ready to escort you. The two other gentlemen who are still asleep will be left on the quay and can be collected by your own men or left to be picked up by the police.”

  He saw the expression of anger on the Baron’s face and added,

  “Your bodyguards will leave behind them some offensive weapons which, may I point out, are not usually carried by gentlemen when they attend a luncheon party.”

  Craig was aware that the Baron was now shaking with fury at the way he spoke and his hands were clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms.

  But he was completely powerless and that was more humiliating to the Russian than anything else.

  Craig rang a bell and, as his secretary opened the door instantly, he said,

  “Have the Baron conveyed to my car and, when he is actually inside it, allow the last two Russians to join him.”

  As his secretary advanced into the room, Craig said to the Baron,

  “We are leaving now, but should you consider following the The Mermaid with either or both of your yachts, I will save you the necessity by saying that our speed is about double yours and there is no possible way you can catch up with us and, as you are eager to do, make yourself objectionable.”

  There was a provocative note in his voice as he continued,

  “Go now, otherwise I might regret that I did not dispose of you when I had the chance. But you will live to fight another day and that should be some satisfaction even though Randall Sare’s secrets remain in British hands.”

  Now, as if he could no longer contain himself, the Baron swore under his breath volubly and furiously in Russian.

  Only Aloya understood and she made a little murmur of protest.

  Then, at a signal from Craig, the secretary moved the Russian swiftly from the Saloon and the door closed behind him.

  There was the sound of engines starting up beneath and it seemed only a moment later, although there must have been enough time to get the five Russians ashore, there was the sound of the gangplank being brought on board and The Mermaid started to move out to sea.
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  It was then, as if he had been too angry until now to ask questions, that Lord Neasdon enquired,

  “Where are we going? Where are you taking us?”

  “We are going first to Nice,” Craig replied, “and because I have no wish to spoil your holiday in the sun, I will put you ashore there.”

  He thought Lord Neasdon looked slightly apprehensive and he said contemptuously,

  “You need not be afraid, the Russians have no further use for you and I am absolutely certain that by the time you return their two yachts will no longer be in Monte Carlo harbour.”

  “They will not – follow us?” Aloya asked nervously.

  “There is not a chance,” Craig answered. “Those old-fashioned yachts take a long time to get up steam and by the time they do we shall be miles away along the coast.”

  “I suppose it is unnecessary to ask where we are going,” Randall Sare said.

  “I am taking you to safety,” Craig answered, “which was the first thing I was told to do. The second was to rescue Lord Neasdon, a new member of the Foreign Office, from the wiles of a Russian spy.”

  Aloya gave a little laugh and Lord Neasdon exploded angrily,

  “That is a lie!”

  “I am afraid it is – true,” Aloya replied. “I was – spying on you, but not very – effectively.”

  “I cannot believe it!” he said. “Do you mean to tell me you were simply trying to extract information when you said all those things to me?”

  There was a stricken note in his voice making Craig for the first time feel rather sorry for him.

  “What I am going to suggest, Neasdon,” he said, “is that we leave Sare and his daughter together and go on deck to look back and make quite sure the Russians don’t have some fantastic new weapon we have not yet heard of, by which they can either follow or sink us.”

  He spoke laughingly and he knew what he said did not make Aloya in the least afraid, but Lord Neasdon looked worried, as he rose from his chair.

  Then as if there was nothing else he could say, he left the Saloon followed by Craig.

  They walked out on deck and Lord Neasdon muttered,

  “I cannot believe it! It is incredible! I thought she cared for me.”

  “She was forced by the Russians to play the temptress,” Craig said, “and, when you have been in the game as long as I have, you will learn that one must never take chances.”

  “How was I to know? How was I to guess that she would deliberately spy on me and tell me all those lies?”

  “She was trying to save her father. She told me how desperately sorry she was at having to deceive you, but Sare’s life was at stake.”

  “Do you believe they would have killed him?”

  “Yes, after they had tortured him.”

  “I did not know such things happened in the modern world!”

  “In your new position in the Foreign Office,” Craig said, “you will find that things can be very different from anything you have experienced before in the comfortable Embassies of Europe.”

  “How do you know all this?” Lord Neasdon asked aggressively. “After all, you are American.”

  “Even Americans have their uses at times,” Craig replied, “and, incidentally, we never ask questions of one another, nor do we ever reveal what we are doing or have done or from whom we receive our instructions.”

  He spoke sternly, like a schoolmaster to a young pupil, and Lord Neasdon looked abashed.

  Craig walked onto the bridge where the Captain was navigating the ship and said,

  “Show Lord Neasdon our latest gadgets, Captain. I know he will be interested.”

  “It’ll be a pleasure, sir!” the Captain replied and there was nothing Lord Neasdon could do but pretend to show an interest he was far from feeling.

  Craig left him and went back to the Saloon and, as he joined Aloya and her father, she said,

  “How can you have been so – wonderful – so marvellous as to have – saved us so cleverly. Papa and I do not know – how to thank you.”

  “You can both thank me very easily and very adequately,” Craig murmured.

  They looked up at him and he said to Randall Sare,

  “I think you know that the sooner Aloya and I are married, the safer she will be!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Craig watched Lord Neasdon being rowed ashore in the boat that had been summoned from the harbour by a signal.

  Just before it arrived he said quietly,

  “When you write your report for the Foreign Office, if you say that you were aware from the very beginning that the Countess Aloya Zladamir was not what she appeared to be and you were curious to verify what you suspected to be the Russians intentions, I shall not dispute it.”

  Lord Neasdon, who had been looking extremely depressed, seemed to become more alert.

  Then he replied,

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I mean it for two reasons,” Craig replied. “First, because I can understand all too well what you felt for the Countess and secondly, I would not wish to be instrumental in damaging what I am sure will be a brilliant career.”

  “That is very generous of you,” Lord Neasdon sighed.

  There was no time for more. The sailors were letting down the rope ladder by which he was to descend into the boat and he only paused to hold out his hand.

  “Thank you, Vandervelt,” he said and there was no doubt that his gratitude was sincere.

  Then, as the rowing boat moved away Craig said to the Petty Officer standing beside him,

  “Tell the Captain full speed ahead!”

  As he spoke Craig went below.

  When he joined Randall Sare and Aloya in the cabin and said that the sooner she was married the safer she would be, Randall Sare’s eyes had lit up for a moment.

  Then, before he could speak, his head dropped on his chest and he murmured a little above a whisper,

  “I – am so – tired.”

  Craig did not wait to argue. He knew that Randall Sare had been buoyed up to exert himself far too soon after coming out of his trance and now exhaustion had set in.

  He merely picked him up his arms and carried him below as if he was a child, followed by Aloya.

  The moment they appeared, Craig’s valets came hurrying from one of the cabins and he said to them,

  “I want you to undress Mr. Sare and get him into bed as quickly as possible. Don’t disturb him. He is asleep.”

  As he spoke, he was aware that Randall Sare’s head was on his shoulder and he was in a deep sleep from which it would be difficult for him to wake for a long time.

  One of the valets opened the door and Craig carried him into an extremely comfortable cabin, beautifully furnished and decorated, as were all the cabins in the yacht, with valuable pictures of ships.

  He laid him down very gently on the bed and, as his second valet joined them, he took Aloya by the arm and drew her from the cabin out into the passageway.

  “Will Papa be – all right?” she asked.

  “I promise you he will be, although he may sleep for twenty-four hours before becoming conscious. But he has had something to eat and that is all that matters.”

  “And – you saved – him!” she said in a little voice that broke on the words.

  He took her along the passage into another cabin which she realised was Craig’s private sitting room, where he could escape and be alone if he had guests who occupied the main Saloon.

  In it was a desk, a sofa, two comfortable red leather armchairs and a magnificent picture of a battle at sea between an English man-of-war and a Spanish galleon.

  But Aloya had eyes only for the man who stood beside her and she said still in the little broken voice she had used before,

  “How can I – thank you for – saving us? How can I – tell you what it means to – know that – Papa is no longer in that evil man’s hands?”

  “I will show you how you can thank me,” Craig answered.

  He put his
arms around Aloya and drew her to the sofa and, as they sat down, his lips were on hers.

  He kissed her passionately, demandingly, as if he was still afraid of losing her.

  To Aloya it was as if she had been taken from the depths of hell into the celestial light of Heaven.

  She could hardly believe there was no longer any reason to be afraid that her father would be tortured and killed and she herself would be left in the hands of his murderers.

  But for the moment it was difficult to think of anybody but Craig, the sensations he evoked in her and the wonder of his kisses.

  Only when he raised his head and, gazing down into her face saw in her a new beauty springing from her happiness, did she manage to say,

  “I – love you – I adore you – I want to kneel at your feet and – thank you for being – so wonderful. There are – no words to tell you what I – feel.”

  “Your lips express that far better with kisses,” Craig answered and even to himself his voice sounded strange, deep and unsteady.

  He knew that never in the long list of his love affairs had he felt as he was feeling now.

  It was not only that he desired Aloya as a woman and her beauty thrilled him, but he felt they were so closely attuned to each other that their vibrations linked them as one person and it was difficult to think that even marriage could bring them any closer than they were already.

  As if his thoughts conveyed themselves to Aloya, she said,

  “Did you really mean – as you told Papa – that we should be – married?”

  She spoke a little shyly and the colour rose in the magnolia whiteness of her cheeks.

  “Of course I intend to marry you, Aloya, but only, my darling if you are willing to do so.”

  “Are you really asking me such an – absurd question?” she asked. “I can imagine nothing – more perfect than to be married to you, if you – really love me.”

  “I love you as I have never loved anybody before,” Craig answered truthfully, “Aloya, although you may find it hard to believe, I have never in my life said ‘I love you’ to any woman but you!”

  “Is that – true?”

  “I swear it is the truth, because I have never found anybody who is so completely perfect for me and you knew just as I did that our vibrations linked us together long before you allowed yourself to love me.”