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—
He went the following morning to the home secretary, whom he had met on several occasions. He gave his name to Sir John Gilmour’s assistant as Lucas Standish, head of MI6 during the war and for some time afterward.
“Good morning, Standish, good to see you. How are you?” Gilmour said warmly. One glance at Lucas’s face told him that Lucas knew better than to waste his time. This was not a social call.
“Gladstone Canning, who also worked for MI6, was very recently murdered, sir. He entrusted me with the work he was involved in. I have come to give you the result of it.”
Gilmour took a deep breath. “Don’t mince words, do you?”
“No, sir. It concerns funding for the new Fatherland Front created and supported by Hitler and the Nazis, for the purpose of overthrowing Chancellor Dollfuss and eventually annexing Austria.”
“I presume you can back all this up, or you wouldn’t have come to me. Why didn’t you take this directly to Bradley at MI6?” He looked at Lucas very directly, his eyes narrowed.
Lucas swallowed. “Because Gladstone Canning believed Bradley was behind it, sir. Canning was murdered. I believe the medical report will confirm this—it certainly won’t dismiss it—although his killing was very cleverly done. I’ve known Gladstone Canning for half a century. He left clues that only I would recognize regarding the sources of the money and its transfer. My wife actually decoded it. She worked on decoding during the war.”
“I know,” Gilmour said succinctly. “And you think Bradley killed Canning himself?”
“I don’t think he would trust anyone else with a job like that. I wouldn’t in his place. Give someone else that kind of a hold on me? Unnecessary risk. Canning was an old man, no match for Bradley.”
“And Peter Howard?”
“Gone to Italy, sir, to sort out that end of it. A lot of information is coming in about the Fatherland Front from Trieste.”
“I see, and what is it precisely that you would like me to do?”
“Send the best police you’ve got, men you trust, to arrest Jerome Bradley for the murder of Gladstone Canning. Unless he has been there and moved them, there is a pile of books that Stoney left on his office floor. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome, and a pile whose authors’ names spell out ‘Bradley.’ I can’t prove that I didn’t put them there, but I didn’t. I should have seen it sooner. It wasn’t until I went down and saw them sideways that I noticed.”
“There will be hell to pay if you’re wrong.”
“Yes, sir, and hell we’ll all pay if I’m right, and we do nothing about it.”
“I miss you, Standish. You have an eye for the absurd that no one else rises to. God knows we’re going to need it.”
“There’s hope for Peter Howard, sir,” Lucas replied. “He has an eye for the absurd, too.”
“He’ll need it! Right, I’ll do it and take it out of your hide if you’re wrong. You’d better give my men all the details.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Lucas walked out of the office, he released a loud sigh, feeling the tension fall away. Gilmour believed him, and he was a man of action.
* * *
—
Lucas entered the office of MI6 quietly, like anyone else, an elderly man, still tall and with a slight stoop, the wind ruffling his gray hair, now thinning. He was accompanied by two policemen in plain clothes. It was a gift from the home secretary that he should do this himself, as if he still held office; as if he had never retired, never been told he had served well and the country was grateful, but he was too old now. Of course, it had not been put in such crude terms, but that was what it amounted to. This was a subtle gift, to be sure, but it was also a way of accomplishing this decisively and without hesitation.
They went in quietly, without speaking to one another. It had all been said already.
At the outer door to Bradley’s office they entered without knocking. The secretary had changed since Lucas’s day, and she did not recognize him, but Lucas shook his head. “Lock the door,” he directed. “Keep her here.”
The men understood and obeyed.
Understanding also flared on the woman’s face. Even unintentionally, she might warn others, perhaps call for assistance.
Lucas opened Bradley’s door without knocking and closed it just behind him.
Bradley was standing in front of the window, staring out at the handsome view of the trees and the street. At the sound of the door, he turned sharply. For an instant his expression was blank, then it was filled with anger.
