'A dedicated killer,' said James Kleek. 'The female of the species is more deadly than the male.'
'There are historical precedents,' admitted Altamount. 'Jael setting butter in a lordly dish before Sisera - and afterwards driving the nail through his head. Judith executing Holofernes, and applauded for it by her countrymen. Yes, you may have something there.'
'So you think you know who Juanita is, do you?' said Mr Robinson. 'That's interesting.'
'Well, perhaps I'm wrong, sir, but there have been things that made me think -'
'Yes,' said Mr Robinson, 'We have all had to think, haven't we? Better say who you think it is, James.'
'The Countess Renata Zerkowski.'
'What makes you pitch upon her?'
'The places she's been, the people she's been in contact with. There's been too much coincidence about the way she has been turning up in different places, and all that. She's been in Bavaria. She's been visiting Big Charlotte there. What's more, she took Stafford Nye with her. I think that's significant -'
'You think they're in this together?' asked Altamount.
'I wouldn't like to say that. I don't know enough about him, but...' he paused.
'Yes,' said Lord Altamount, 'there have been doubts about him. He was suspected from the beginning.'
'By Henry Horsham?'
'Henry Horsham for one, perhaps. Colonel Pikeaway isn't sure, I imagine. He's been under observation. Probably knows it, too. He's not a fool.'
'Another of them,' said James Kleek savagely. 'Extraordinary, how we can breed them, how we trust them, tell 'em our secrets, let them know what we're doing, go on saying: "If there's one person I'm absolutely sure of, it's - oh, Mclean, or Burgess, or any of the lot." And now - Stafford Nye.'
'Stafford Nye, indoctrinated by Renata alias Juanita,' said Mr Robinson.
'There was that curious business at Frankfurt airport,' said Kleek, 'and there was the visit to Cahrlotte. Stafford Nye, I gather, has since been in South America with her. As for she herself - do we know where she is now?'
'I daresay Mr Robinson does,' said Lord Altamount. 'Do you, Mr Robinson?'
'She's in the United States. I've heard that after staying with friends in Washington or near it, she was in Chicago, then in California and that she went from Austin to visit a top-flight scientist. That's the last I've heard.'
'What's she doing there?'
'One would presume,' said Mr Robinson in his calm voice, 'that she is trying to obtain information.'
'What information?'
Mr Robinson sighed. 'That is what one wishes one knew. One presumes that it is the same information that we are anxious to obtain, and that she is doing it on our behalf. But one never knows - it may be for th other side.'
He turned to look at Lord Altamount.
'Tonight, I understand, you are travelling to Scotland. Is that right?'
'Quite right.'
'I don't think he ought to, sir,' said James Kleek. He turned an anxious face to his employer. 'You've not been so well lately, sir. It'll be a very tiring journey whichever way you go. Air or train. Can't you leave it to Munro and Horsham?'
'At my age it's a waste of time to take care,' said Lord Altamount. 'If I can be useful I would like to die in harness, as the saying goes.'
He smiled at Mr Robinson.
'You'd better come with us, Robinson.'
Chapter 23
JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND
The Squadron Leader wondered a little what it was all about. He was accustomed to being left only partly in the picture. That was Security's doing, he supposed. Taking no chances. He'd done this sort of thing before more than once. Flying a plane of people out to an unlikely spot, with unlikely passengers, being careful to ask no questions except such as were of an entirely factual nature. He knew some of his passengers on this flight but not all of them. Lord Altamount he recognized. An ill man, a very sick man, he thought, a man who, he judged, kept himself alive by sheer willpower. The keen hawk-faced man with him was his special guard dog, presumably. Seeing not so much to his safety as to his welfare. A faithful dog who never left his side. He would have with him restoratives, stimulants, all the medical box of tricks. The Squadron Leader wondered why there wasn't a doctor also in attendance. It would have been an extra precaution. Like a death's head, the old man looked. A noble death's head. Something made of marble in a museum. Henry Horsham the Squadron Leader knew quite well. He knew several of the Security lot. And Colonel Munro, looking slightly less fierce than usual, rather more worried. Not very happy on the whole. There was also a large, yellow-faced man. Foreigner, he might be. Asiatic? What was he doing, flying in a plane to the North of Scotland? The Squadron Leader said deferentially to Colonel Munro:
'Everything laid on, sir? The car is here waiting.'
'How far exactly is the distance?'
'Seventeen miles, sir, roughish road but not too bad. There are extra rugs in the car.'
'You have your orders? Repeat, please, if you will, Squadron Leader Andrews.'
The pilot repeated them and the Colonel nodded his head in approval. When the car finally left, the pilot watched it vanish, thinking to himself why those strange people were travelling through a desert region to reach an old castle where an old man lived without friends or visitors. Horsham would know, he thought. Horsham knew about a lot of strange things. Oh, Horsham! - he wasn't the kind who told anything.
The car was driven with grat dilligence and care. It finally came to a gravel road and stopped at the gates. It was a building with lots of little stone turrets. There were lights on both sides. The door opened before they had time to ring the bell or ask for admittance.
An old Scotch woman of about sixty years with a dark and severe face was standing in the entrance. The driver helped the passengers out of the car.
James Kleek and Horsham helped Lord Altamount and supported him on the steps. The old Scotch drew back to one side and made a courteous bow. She said:
'Good evening, your excellency. The master is awaiting you. We have rooms ready with lighted fires for each one of you.'
Another person came into the room. A tall, slim woman in her fifties, but who was still attractive. Her black hair was parted in the middle, she had a high forehead, a delicate nose and tan skin.
'Miss Neumann will take care of you,' the Scotch woman said.
'Thank you, Janet,' said Miss Neumann. 'Take care that the fireplaces are lighted in all the rooms.'
'I will.'
Lord Altamount shook her hand.
'Good evening, Miss Neumann.'
'Good evening, Lord Altamount. I hope the jourey wasn't too tiring.'
'The flight was very good. This is Colonel Munro, Miss Neumann. This is Mr Robinson, Sir James Kleek and Mr Horsham, from Security.'
'I remember Mr Horsham from many years ago.'
'I haven't forgotten either,' said Henry Horsham. 'It was at the Leveson Foundation. At the time you were, I believe, already Proffesor Shoreham's secretary?'
'I was first his assistant in the laboratory, and afterwards his secretary. I am still, as far as he needs one, his secretary. He also has to have a hospital nurse living here more or less permanently. There have to be changes from time to time - Miss Ellis who is here now took over from Miss Bude only two days ago. I have suggested that she should stay near at hand to the room in which we ourselves shall be. I thought you would prefer privacy, but that she ought not to be out of call in case she was needed.'
'Is he in very bad health?' asked Colonel Munro.
'He doesn't actually suffer,' said Miss Neumann, 'but you must prepare yourself, if you have not seen him, that is, for a long time. He is only what is left of a man.'
'Just one moment before you take us to him. His mental processes are not too badly depleted? He can understand what one says to him?'
'Oh, yes, he can understand perfectly, but as he is semi-paralysed, he is unable to speak with much clarity, though that varies, and is unable to walk without help. His brain, in my opinion, is as good as ever it was. The only difference is that he tires very easily now. Now, would you like some refreshment first?'
'No,' said Lord Altamount. 'No, I don't want to wait. This is a rather urgent matter on which we have come, so if you will take us to him now - he expects us, I understand?'
'He expects you, yes,' said Lisa Neumann.
She led the way up some stairs, along a corridor and opened a room of medium size. It had tapestries on the wall, the heads of stags looked down on them, the place had been a one-time shooting-box. It had been little changed in its furnishing or arrangements. There was a big record-player on one side of the room.
The tall man sat in a chair by the fire. His head trembled a little, so did his left hand. The skin of his face was pulled down one side. Without beating about the bush, one could only describe him one way, as a wreck of a man. A man who had once been tall, sturdy, strong. He had a fine forehead, deep-set eyes, and a rugged, determined-looking chin. The eyes, below the heavy eyebrows, were intelligent. He said something. His voice was not weak, it made fairly clear sounds but not always recognizable ones. The faculty of speech had only partly gone from him, he was still understandable.
Lisa Neumann went to stand by him, watching his lips, so that she could interpret what he said if necessary.
'Professor Shoreham welcomes you. He is very pleased to see you here. Lord Altamount, Colonel Munro, Sir James Kleek, Mr Robinson and Mr Horsham. He would like me to tell you that his hearing is reasonably good. Anything you say to him he will be able to hear. If there is any difficulty I can assist. What he wants to say to you he will be able to transmit through me. If he gets too tired to articulate, I can lip-read and we also converse in a perfected sign language if there is any difficulty.'
'I shall try,' said Colonel Munro, 'not to waste your time and to tire you as little as possible, Professor Shoreham.'
The man in the chair bent his head in recognition of the words.
'Some questions I can ask of Miss Neumann.'
Shoreham's hand went out in a faint gesture towards the woman standing by his side. Sounds came from his lips, again not quite recognizable to them, but she translated quickly.
'He says he can depend on me to transcribe anything you wish to say to him or I to you.'
'You have, I think, already received a letter from me,' said Colonel Munro.
'That is so,' said Miss Neumann. 'Professor Shoreham received your letter and knows its contents.'
A hospital nurse opened the door just a crack - but she did not come in. She spoke in a low whisper:
'Is there anything I can get or do, Miss Neumann? For any of the guests or for Professor Shoreham?'
'I don't think there is anything, thank you, Miss Ellis. I should be glad, though, if you could stay in your sitting-room just along the passage, in case we should need anything.'
'Certainly - I quite understand.' She went away, closing the door softly. 'We don't want to lose time,' said Colonel Munro, 'No doubt Professor Shoreham is in tune with current issues.'
'Entirely so,' said Miss Neumann, 'as far as he is interested.'
'Does he keep in touch with scientific advancements and such things?'
Robert Shoreham's head shook slightly from side to side.
He himself answered.
'I have finished with all that.'
'But you know roughly the state the world is in? The success of what is called the Revolution of Youth. The seizing of power by youthful fully-equipped forces.'
Miss Neumann said, 'He is in touch entirely with everything that is going on - in a political sense, that is.'
'The world is now given over to violence, pain, revolutionary tenets, a strange and incredible philosophy of rule by an anarchic minority.'
A faint look of impatience went across the gaunt face.
'He knows all that,' said Mr Robinson, speaking unexpectedly. 'No need to go over a lot of things again. He's a man who knows everything.'
He said:
'Do you remember Admiral Blunt?'
Again the head bowed. Something like a smile showed on the twisted lips.
'Admiral Blunt remembered some scientific work you had done on a certain project - I think project is what you call these things? Project Benvo.'
They saw the alert look which came into the eyes.
'Project Benvo,' said Miss Neumann. 'You are going back quite a long time, Mr Robinson, to recall that.'
'It was your project, wasn't it?' said Mr Robinson.
'Yes, it was his project.' Miss Neumann now spoke more easily for him, as a matter of course.
'We cannot use nuclear weapons, we cannot use explosives or gas or chemistry, but your project, Project Benvo, we could use.'
There was silence and nobody spoke. And then again the queer distorted sounds came from Professor Shoreham's lips.
'He says, of course,' said Miss Neumann, 'Benvo could be used successfully in the circumstances in which we find ourselves -'
The man in the chair had turned to her and was saying something to her.
'He wants me to explain it to you,' said Miss Neumann. 'Project B, later called Project Benvo, was something that he worked upon for many years but which at last he laid aside for reasons of his own.'
'Because he had failed to make his project materialize?'
'No, he had not failed,' said Lisa Neumann. 'We had not failed. I worked with him on this project. He laid it aside for certain reasons, but he did not fail. He succeeded. He was on the right track, he developed it, he tested it in various laboratory experiments, and it worked.' She turned to Professor Shoreham again, made a few gestures with her hand, touching her lips, ear, mouth in a strange kind of code signal.
