“We could start with the usual: communists and fascists. Each faction has its supporters in the States but the government fears these extremists even more when they’re in their native lands, amassing armed forces. I’d discount the Russians and the Italians for various reasons involving preparedness and resolve and look at Japan and Germany. Yes, Germany. I often disagree with Churchill but here I think he’s got it right. Unless, of course, we can respond to the placatory tone of this bloke in your lineup: Heimdallr Ackermann. Question is: whom would you prefer to take on, if it came to a fight against national extremism—a plebeian thug or a patrician schemer? Is this what’s happening, Joe? Class warfare? Takes us right back to the Battle of Crécy when the English were branded cheats and undeserving victors by the aristocratic French knights on account of their use of a company of lower-class yeoman archers. The lads of the village, standing on their own two feet and not a scrap of armour between them, scrupled not to shoot nine thousand arrows in a minute, straight at the French horses. Not very sporting!”

“Low-down trick!” Joe’s chuckle was short. “Just the kind of story I like. Are we out of our depth, James? Any hope that MI6 would be able to make sense of all this?”

“Doubt it. I can ask. Who knows? They may have been given some direction from above regarding the acceptability and trustworthiness of Herr this or Signor that.”

“We mongrels would find it a bit hard to know what to do with our allegiance if we didn’t have a wise government to tell us,” Joe murmured.

“That’s better! A bit of bite-them-in-the-bum cynicism.”

“We’ve rambled too far, James. Let’s stick to facts. And let’s ask ourselves why we’re gnawing at this bone.”

“Are you sure it’s our business? I don’t see a plot against our king or a member of our government looming.”

“I see a sailor with a broken neck and a girl with a bullet in her head. Victims, both, of some overriding ambition I haven’t yet got to grips with. They are my prime concerns. But they’re linked in a way I’m going to understand with the survival—physical and mental—of a man who’s been assigned to my care. A man I’ve grown to admire and like.” Joe allowed himself an evil grin. “And if I can make things uncomfortable, however briefly, for this lineup of arrogant tosspots—so much the better.”

“So we’re saying that this organisation is setting up an unwilling ex-Doughboy to bite the ankles of the opposition. But what exactly is the opposition?”

“We’re not near them yet, James. Tell you what—come with me and stir up the mud a bit more this morning. I may not be able to get near enough to our Morris Men to worry them but I can have a go at their lieutenants. The lower echelon that gets its hands dirty in their service. In so far as they have a centre for their clandestine activities in London, I think we’ve tracked it down. Thanks to the quick thinking and public spirit of a homeless sailor. Absalom Hope. I say his name again because no one else, I fear, will remember him since he sank below the horizon. I’ll tell you about him in the taxi. Now … Can you wait for a moment while I slip into some smart navy suiting with gold frogging? There’s a matron I’m planning to put the wind up!”

CHAPTER 25

The Matron’s office was equipped in the very latest style. Chrome and glass, black leather and silver, by turns dazzled and soothed the eye. A shining expanse of desk, clear but for three white lilies in a Lalique vase, made Joe sigh with envy. How much more efficiently would his own professional life run, he wondered, if he could exchange his ancient mahogany, worn axminster and overflowing onyx ashtrays for such an uncluttered haven. It would have the same predictable effect on anyone visiting. Reassuring. Comforting. If the medical skills were of the same order as the décor, then all would be well, and worth whatever it cost.

The matron herself was of the same style. Pin neat. Navy silk dress with white pleated trimmings at the neck. Though her head-dress was all that formality required, it had been pared down to essentials, shorn of the over-lavish folds and ruches of the traditional confection. It framed an oval face in which the most striking feature was a large pair of hazel eyes. She was a woman in her forties, Joe guessed, who’d had her training during or before the war. She had about her the stillness and economy of gesture of a nun but her eyes—or was it the laughter lines around them?—spoke of a deeper experience than the walls of a convent. Joe reminded himself that this was the woman who had been meticulous enough to descend to the basement kitchen to check the credentials of two unannounced Health Department inspectors and join them in a discussion on the state of the drains. Orford had thought he’d got away with it but Joe wondered about that.

She smiled and indicated that they should sit down in the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. She kept them waiting while she examined their warrants with care. “Commissioner. Superintendent. I’m so pleased to welcome you to the front office. I’m Ellen Frobisher. I usually have a cup of coffee at this hour, will you join me?”

She rang a bell and a female secretary appeared in the doorway. “Susannah, coffee for three this morning please.” She turned again to her two visitors. “It will be here directly. Susannah makes it in her room across the corridor. We won’t have to wait for it to come up from the kitchens, you’ll be glad to hear. Now, do tell me what I may do for you? We’re not accustomed to helping out gentlemen in our ladies’ clinic, so I’m preparing for a surprise.”

“A surprise, I’m sure, but a sad one,” Joe began. “We’re bearers of news—bad news, I’m afraid. Concerning Miss Natalia Kirilovna who was here as a patient, we have been led to believe. At any rate, on the premises from last Tuesday until Saturday.”

“Was? What has happened to her?”

“She’s dead. She died from a gunshot to the head on Saturday morning. Murder or suicide? The autopsy is at present being done at Scotland Yard and I expect to have further information for you in good time.”

The lady appeared stunned but, quickly establishing control, she asked, “Do you suspect anyone of her murder, Commissioner?”

“One or two suspects come to mind. Perhaps you can help us?” She nodded and Joe pressed on. “She is believed to have driven down to Surrey in a Maybach Zeppelin, registered to this establishment, in the company of two gentlemen named Onslow and Cummings. Are they known to you?”

“Yes. Employees—though on a sporadic and temporary basis. They are chauffeurs. If a client is signing out of our care but feeling a little wobbly and doesn’t wish to travel by taxi or have transport of her own, we ring up Kerry Onslow and ask him to deliver her home in the Maybach. Our other vehicle is a Hispano-Suiza. We do not run an ambulance service for reasons of discretion and anonymity but the two large cars suffice. If, for reasons of delicacy, a woman driver is required, I perform that service myself.”

Noting their silent puzzlement, she went on with a challenge in her tone: “For example—we had a case of rape so serious it required the very best surgery to effect a repair and the young victim could not bear to see a man in her orbit for months after the event.”

Joe knew she was trying to shock them. Test them out.

“Natalia was feeling better and wished for some country air, she told me. She told me she’d be back by tea time. She knows the two drivers well and I trust them. We’ve never had a complaint about them. Not the slightest problem. I think you must look elsewhere for her killer, if indeed, it was not herself. She had been having emotional problems recently. With an overpowering and demanding man who fancied himself her fiançé. He was in the disconcerting habit of trailing after her all over the world. Finally, after an unsuccessful attempt to dissuade him, she fled here for a few days rest. Emotionally distraught. We have supplied her with accommodation in the annexe on several occasions when she’s been in London. She is, after all, a shareholder of some consequence in the business. We give her every consideration.”