The Ends of the Earth (12 page)

‘OK. So, do you know where I can find him?’

‘Tokyo. He’s still on the staff there. Risen since to the dizzy heights of First Secretary. Due to retire soon. Whether he’ll leave Japan then I couldn’t say. He has a Japanese wife, apparently.’

‘You seem to know a lot about him.’

‘I made it my business to, once I read that report and noticed how much more he seemed to know than he was actually saying. The FO regard him as dull but dependable. I think there may be hidden depths. You should look him up. Plumb some of those depths if you can.’

‘I will.’

‘Steer clear of the embassy. We have a man there, obviously, name of Reynolds, but it’s all too possible he’s on Lemmer’s payroll, so don’t have anything to do with him. Approach Hodgson at home. I think it’s safe to assume he’s loyal. As for what he may be keeping under his hat about your father …’

‘Where do I find him?’

‘Uchida Apartments, Ginza. How easy that address will be to track down I don’t know, but it’s all I’ve got.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll track it down.’

‘Yes.’ Appleby nodded. ‘I’m sure you will.’

THEY HAD AN
hour between trains at Geneva and went to the buffet in search of lunch. It seemed a decision they could take without weighing the risks. But, as it transpired, it was not.

A figure caught Max’s eye as soon as they entered. He was seated at one of the gingham-clothed tables, sipping a glass of white wine. He was a handsome, elegantly dressed man of sixty, with greying hair and rugged features, English to his cosmopolitan fingertips. He was Lionel Brigham.

A chance meeting with the man who believed himself – wrongly, according to Lady Maxted – to be his natural father was very nearly the last thing Max would have wanted to occur. He had once suspected Brigham to be something much worse than his mother’s former lover, but their violent encounter with the hired assassin Tarn in London five weeks ago had demonstrated that for all his many faults Brigham was not a traitor to his country.

That did not mean Max wanted to clasp the fellow’s hand and confide in him. Nor was it likely Brigham would be pleased to see him in the company of Appleby, who had subjected him to some aggressive questioning in Paris.

‘James, my boy,’ said Brigham, rising from his seat. ‘What are you doing here?’ He looked at Appleby. ‘With this fellow?’

‘Passing through,’ said Max. There were no moves to shake hands. ‘You?’

‘A house agent was supposed to meet me off my train. He seems to be late.’

‘A house agent?’

‘I’ve been told I’m to be part of the British presence at the League of Nations.’ Seeing Max’s puzzled look, he went on, ‘You’re aware it’s to be based here in Geneva?’

‘So it is,’ said Appleby. ‘Maybe you didn’t hear about that, Max.’

The note of familiarity appeared to nettle Brigham. ‘I thought you’d have quit meddling in this young man’s life by now,’ he said, glaring at Appleby.

‘I don’t meddle, Mr Brigham. I serve my country.’

‘So do I. Where are you passing through
to
, may I ask?’

‘We don’t need to trouble you with our itinerary,’ said Max.

‘Whatever it is, why not let Appleby go on alone? Spend a few days here, James. Help me find somewhere to live.’ Brigham looked pitifully hopeful for a moment that Max might actually accept the invitation.

‘I couldn’t do that, I’m afraid.’

‘Because Appleby has something else in mind for you?’

‘Could I have a word with you outside, Max?’ said Appleby.

‘Certainly.’

‘That’s it, then?’ Brigham grimaced. ‘You’ve no sooner arrived than you’re leaving?’

Max mixed an uneasy smile with a shrug. ‘You’ll have to excuse us.’

‘Sorry,’ said Max, once they were out on the platform. He felt he owed Appleby some kind of apology for the awkwardness that had been all too apparent. ‘Brigham and I … Well, the fact is he’s convinced himself he has a right to take a paternal interest in me.’

‘Paternal?’ Appleby cocked one eyebrow curiously.

‘Do I have to spell it out?’

‘Not on my account. Matter of fact, I’m sorry too. The choice of Geneva as headquarters for the League of Nations should have put me on my guard. Missing breakfast must have made me careless.’

‘What do we do now?’

‘About Brigham? Well, we can’t just leave him to his own devices. If he tells anyone he met you in Geneva, two days after you’re supposed to have been killed in Marseilles, your goose is likely to be cooked well before you reach Japan. Worse still, Lemmer may guess where we’re going – and why.’

Max sighed. ‘I could ask Brigham to keep it to himself. I think he’d agree to do that for me.’

‘I think he might agree to do rather more.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The best way to keep him quiet is to keep him close. I’ve been worrying about who I can use in any operation I decide to mount in Lausanne. As things presently stand, there are precious few people in the Service whose loyalty I can rely on absolutely. And it would be next to impossible to deploy them in Switzerland without one of Lemmer’s spies becoming aware of it. If Lemmer really does have a son at this Le Rosey place, it’s vital he doesn’t get wind of our interest in him.’

‘You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?’

‘Whatever we think of Brigham, Max, we know he doesn’t work for Lemmer. He nearly paid for that with his life when you ran into Tarn. Would you say he was a patriot?’

‘I suppose so. But—’

‘So would I. And a patriot is what we need. Ask him to step out here.’

By the time Max returned with a clearly bemused Brigham, Appleby had retreated to the distant, deserted end of the platform, where he was smoking his pipe and gazing into the middle distance.

‘What the devil’s going on?’ Brigham demanded as soon as they reached him. ‘James says you want to speak to me. I can’t imagine what about.’

‘The defence of the realm. And I suggest you call him Max from now on. Otherwise you’ll confuse me.’

‘Confuse you?
You’re
confusing
me
, Appleby. What on earth’s going on?’

‘We’re after Lemmer. He has spies everywhere and we need to find out who they are as a matter of urgency.’

‘What do you mean by “everywhere”?’

‘I mean that every government department is compromised, including the Secret Service.’

‘Good God. That’s appalling. And much worse than I was given to understand. Is the PM aware of the scale of the problem?’

‘He is.’

‘Then what’s being done?’

‘All manner of things. But, since we don’t know who works for Lemmer and who doesn’t, there’s a good chance everything we do will be at best undermined, at worst sabotaged.’

‘This is what comes of setting up a Secret Service in the first place. Teach people to spy on your enemies and before you know it they’re spying on you.’

‘You may be right.’ Appleby looked at Brigham squarely. ‘C has given me full authority to pursue Lemmer and the people who answer to him by all necessary means. Do you know why he chose me, Brigham? And why I engaged Max to assist me?’

‘As to the first, I’d suggest poor judgement. As to the second, I assume James – Max as you call him – is naïve enough to do your bidding. Unfortunately for him.’

Appleby smiled wearily. ‘I was chosen and I chose Max because our loyalty’s been tested in the fire. The irony is – and it’s quite some irony, considering your opinion of me and mine of you – that your loyalty’s been tested too.’

‘We need your help,’ said Max simply, drawing a look of some astonishment from Brigham.

‘We do,’ Appleby confirmed with a sigh. ‘You’re still officially on leave?’

‘Yes.’

‘For how much longer?’

‘It could be months. There’ll be nothing up and running here before the autumn.’

‘Then no one would miss you while you did some work for me, would they?’

‘Possibly not. But—’

‘Your country needs you, Brigham. As never before.’

‘You’re the most confounded fellow, Appleby, you really are. Is what he says true, James?’

‘Yes,’ said Max. ‘It is.’

‘I’d need some verification.’ Brigham looked doubtfully at Appleby.

‘There’ll be no verification. You’re either with us or not.’

‘With you in what?’

‘Disagreeable business that needs to be done – and that no one else can do.’

‘Hardly an enticing prospect.’

‘But a chance for you to earn that generous salary HMG has been paying you all these years.’ Appleby looked Brigham in the eye. ‘What’s it to be?’

WHEN IT CAME
down to it, Brigham seemed disappointed that initially nothing was required of him beyond a vow of silence. ‘Lemmer thinks I’m dead,’ Max explained. ‘He must go on thinking that as long as possible.’

‘My lips are sealed, my boy.’ It was touching, in its way, to see how eager Brigham was to protect Max. It was also infuriating, since Max had no wish to lend credence to Brigham’s conviction that he was his father by exploiting it. But exploit it he had to.

‘We’ll leave you to your house-hunting for the present,’ said Appleby. ‘I’d like you to stay in Geneva until you hear from me again.’

‘Very well. I’m putting up at the Beau Rivage.’

‘I won’t keep you waiting long.’

‘Where are you going now?’

‘East.’

‘Is that all you’re going to tell me?’

‘I’ll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it and not before. That’ll be in your best interests as well as ours.’

‘There’s something in your tone I’m never going to grow fond of, Appleby.’

‘But you’ll play your part?’

‘Whatever it is, yes.’ Brigham was looking at Max when he added, ‘You can count on me.’

Max did not conceal his doubts about the wisdom of enlisting Brigham in their cause. He could not deny the logic of the decision, however, and it was obvious Appleby derived no pleasure from it. ‘Adversity acquaints a man with strange bedfellows,’ he remarked as their train headed out along the shore of Lake Geneva.

‘It’s misery, not adversity.’

‘What?’

‘“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”
The Tempest
, I believe. Shakespeare.’

‘I know who wrote
The Tempest
, thank you.’ Appleby chewed irritably on the stem of his pipe. ‘He obviously never tried his hand at intelligence work.’

‘No. That was Marlowe. It got him killed.’

‘What a ray of sunshine you are, Max.’

Max shrugged. ‘I try to be.’

The train stopped at Rolle before it reached Lausanne. As it slowed on its approach to the station, it passed an imposing building set in its own grounds, part of which had been turned over to sports pitches. On one of them two teams of boys were engaged in an energetic game of hockey.

‘Le Rosey, I assume,’ said Appleby.

‘Looks like it. Just think, Horace, Lemmer’s son could be in our sight at this very moment.’

‘Yes. I’d have him down as a games-player.’

‘It’s not his fault Lemmer’s his father.’

‘There are many things we suffer for that aren’t our fault.’

‘He won’t come to any harm at our hands, will he?’

‘Of course not. What do you take me for?’ Appleby looked across at Max. ‘No. Don’t answer that. I’d rather not know.’

From the Gare Centrale in Lausanne they took the funicular down to Ouchy, a genteel lakeside resort, and booked into the Hotel Meurice. A swift scan of the register as they signed it in the names of Greaves and Brown revealed no other arrivals that day. Dombreux was not there.

Appleby remained sceptical about Dombreux’s intentions, but acknowledged he could not afford to betray Max. ‘His hands are tied, I’m glad to say.’ There remained the possibility he had despatched Max to Lausanne on a fool’s errand, but Appleby intended to test the possibility without delay.

They passed much of the afternoon loitering in a café near the entrance to the offices of Marcel Dulière,
notaire
, at the southern end of the Avenue d’Ouchy, facing the lakeside promenades. Decorative stained glass and a wide marble staircase visible within suggested a prosperous practice, which the dowagers of Lausanne, pottering past in the sunshine in impressive quantity, went some way to explaining. The insulation of Switzerland from the convulsions of the war hung complacently in the spring-scented air.

At length, a man looking very much as Max imagined a Swiss lawyer would look – portly, fussy and morning-suited, with a trimmed moustache and a weathered briefcase – exited the building. A passer-by helpfully greeted him with a ‘
Bonjour, Monsieur Dulière
,’ to remove any doubt in the matter.

‘What are you planning to do, Horace?’ Max asked as Dulière bustled off towards the funicular station.

‘Nothing until tonight.’

‘And then?’

‘An office call, without an appointment.’

The evening elapsed with no sign of Dombreux. Max acknowledged, first to himself, then to Appleby, that he was not going to arrive. As to why, they agreed there was nothing to be gained by trying to guess.

There was a small courtyard behind the building housing Dulière’s office. At gone midnight in tranquil Ouchy, silence and solitude were nowhere more abundant. Appleby entered the premises via a rear door after a masterful display of lock-picking, leaving Max on guard.

Aside from a couple of flashes of torchlight in windows overlooking the yard, Max saw nothing that could alert anyone to Appleby’s presence. And there was no one about to be alerted anyway. Guard duty was chilly but uneventful.

Appleby emerged after half an hour or so, locking the door carefully behind him. ‘We can go,’ he murmured. They headed back to their hotel, where they treated the night porter to a tale of losing their way while returning from a late evening stroll. Then they adjourned to Appleby’s room.

‘You could have had a successful career as a burglar, you know, Horace,’ said Max as he accepted a glass of whisky.

‘I learnt from a master. Charlie Leggatt was burgling the homes of wealthy Londoners for most of the old Queen’s reign. I felt his collar several times in my early days with the Met. Some of his victims didn’t even realize they’d been robbed, he was that careful. Breaking and entering without breaking was his forte.’