‘We had a lot of fuss about a man who was frightening the wife of the Greek ambassador. She said he appeared in their garden walking strangely, and that it looked as though his head was on back to front. Naturally it turned out to be an Italian, putting some kind of curse on the poor woman by wearing his coat the wrong way around. Silly, you’d think, but dangerous too. Given the current situation between Greece and Italy, we had to be very careful. The Eyetie eventually led us to a man who supplied Mussolini with cheese, and the War Office immediately started developing plans to poison him. They’re working on something similar with Hitler and watermelons. Or was it bananas?’
As the afternoon waned, Bryant described his favourite case histories, even acting some of them out, and revealed the nonconformist methods he was keen to introduce into standard investigative procedures. He left the barmier-sounding ones for May to discover in his own time. For Bryant, the important thing was to make sure that he had an ally against the cuckoo, Biddle, whom he suspected of making mental notes against him.
By the time John May left the alleyway in Bow Street it was night and the traffic had virtually ceased, leaving him alone once more in the disconcerting darkness of a city under siege. As he groped his way home, the case file of a murdered dancer was making its circuitous way towards the unit.
10
COLD FEET AND ROASTED CHESTNUTS
‘Can’t you tell him I’ve already left, John?’ It was early on Tuesday morning, and Arthur Bryant had just been informed that Farley Davenport was on the telephone for him.
‘He knows you’re here. He says he can hear you in the room even when you’re not saying anything.’
‘For someone who appears to be deaf most of the time, he has very acute hearing when he needs it.’ Bryant searched his jacket pockets, looking for his pipe. He was forever losing it, especially when it was lit, and had a habit of setting fire to things. ‘Is he still holding on?’
May gingerly returned the heavy Bakelite receiver to his ear, then covered the mouthpiece. ‘I can hear him breathing.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake give it here.’ He held out his hand so that May could pass him the telephone before busying himself on the far side of the office. ‘What can I do for you, Davenport? I was just on my way out.’
‘Alvar Lidell mentioned that business with the Leicester Square Vampire on the wireless this morning, Mr Bryant.’
‘I know. I found his report fanciful in the extreme. He’s in danger of developing a sense of humour. One can’t help feeling it would be detrimental to the war effort.’
‘Be that as it may, I believe I had expressly instructed you not to attract any publicity to the matter. We shall have to issue denials.’
‘Someone from the Daily Sketch came creeping around asking questions. I told him the absolute bare minimum. I didn’t think for a moment that he’d pass the information on to anyone else. I can’t for the life of me imagine how the BBC got hold of it.’
May waved his hand at Bryant, requesting the receiver. ‘Ah, our Mr May would like a quick word with you.’ He threw it as though it was burning his fingers.
‘Mr Davenport? That account was treated as a jocular endpiece to the news. It couldn’t possibly be taken seriously, provided no further information is released. To refute the report now would only validate it.’
There was a pause on the line. ‘I didn’t realize you were an expert on the subject, Mr May.’
‘I’m not, sir, but a fire can’t burn without oxygen to feed it.’
Another pause. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Let me have another word with your colleague.’ May hastily passed the telephone back.
‘I’ll let the matter lie there, Mr Bryant, provided there are no further security breaches of this sort,’ warned Davenport. ‘These are the kind of propaganda victories Goebbels is praying for.’
‘Fair enough, point taken,’ said Bryant. ‘I’m in receipt of your new boy, by the way.’
‘Ah, Mr Biddle,’ said Davenport cagily. ‘Thought you could use an extra hand.’
‘I now have the perspicacious Mr May, for whom I thank you. Biddle is rather over-egging the pudding, don’t you think?’
‘Don’t push your luck, Mr Bryant. He’s there to keep an eye on things.’
‘I’ll make sure he spells our names correctly in the reports he prepares for you.’
There was a small, deathly silence on the other end of the line. ‘As long as you’re spending government money, you must be made accountable to the public.’
‘I wonder that they don’t have a right to know at least some of the things that go on.’ Bryant winked at May across the cluttered desks.