Murder Foretold Read online

  MURDER FORETOLD

  Denis Hughes

  Copyright © 1950 by Denis Hughes;

  Copyright © 2016 by the Estate of Denis Hughes

  Denis Hughes has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  This edition published in 2018 by Endeavour Venture, an imprint of Endeavour Media Ltd.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1 – DISTASTEFUL ASSIGNMENT

  CHAPTER 2 – NARGAN

  CHAPTER 3 – THE TELECOPTER

  CHAPTER 4 – CONFIDENCES

  CHAPTER 5 – PAST AND FUTURE

  CHAPTER 6 – NARGAN IS CURIOUS

  CHAPTER 7 – SPY BY NIGHT

  CHAPTER 8 – MACHINE OVER MIND

  CHAPTER 9 – PROBLEMS OF A SECRET AGENT

  CHAPTER 10 – JAGGED NERVES

  CHAPTER 11 – NARGAN IS TROUBLED

  CHAPTER 12 – DALE AND THE V.I.P.

  CHAPTER 13 – SECRET CONFERENCE

  CHAPTER 14 – INVITATION TO A VAULT

  CHAPTER 15 – THE TELECOPTER STRIKES

  CHAPTER 16 – FUTURE TURNED TO PRESENT

  CHAPTER 1

  DISTASTEFUL ASSIGNMENT

  The man at the desk looked up abruptly as John Bentick opened the door. He was a tall, grey haired man, with deep lines channelling the sides of his mouth as if there was a bitter taste inside it. His forehead was broad and smooth beneath its covering of iron-coloured hair, and below that his eyes were piercing and almost black in tone. Those eyes were the only really human looking feature about him.

  He sat there staring at the newcomer thoughtfully for a moment, elbows on the edge of the desk, legs sticking out straight through the opening of the desk.

  Then he smiled, and when he did that something happened to make him a human being instead of the hardened master under which Bentick and men like him worked loyally.

  “Ah, Bentick,” said the man at the desk. “I sent for you. Sit down.”

  Bentick frowned very slightly, then relaxed in a deep leather chair that faced the desk.

  Bentick was just under thirty years old. He found a zest in life that amazed his friends and won admiration among them. He was of middle height, brown haired, boyish looking, with a sharp featured angular face that was always ready to crease into laughter.

  There was little enough laughter in the work he did, but somehow he found opportunity even in that. Being a secret agent on Cain’s hardened staff was exacting work, but to Bentick the good of his country was always to the fore. He was ready for any assignment that Cain handed over.

  Cain said: “I sent for you because there’s a tricky little job to be done and I think you’re the best man to handle it.” He stopped as Bentick opened his mouth. “No, don’t say anything until you’ve heard the details. I very much doubt if they’ll appeal to you, but that can’t be helped I’m afraid.” He paused, fixing the younger man with a stare that was shrewd and penetrating, yet friendly for all its granite qualities.

  “You know the present state of tension under which this country is living, of course. It is a state when at any moment war could break out unless certain things are handled with the greatest delicacy. One of those things is the secret of the latest armour destroying projectile our scientists have devised. If it can be used in the right way it will be a power of strength for peace. But if someone puts a foot wrong there’s going to be trouble on the most colossal scale that civilisation has ever known.”

  Bentick crossed his legs and nodded slowly.

  “I’ve heard things myself,” he admitted. He knew of Britain’s latest development of atomic weapons, and could easily foresee the devastation that another war would cause.

  “Is anyone likely to put a foot wrong?”

  Cain nodded thoughtfully. “That’s what we have to prevent at all cost,” he answered. “And that’s where you come in, Bentick. You’re not going to like this job.”

  The other grinned. “Depends on what it is,” he said.

  Cain put his fingertips together and gazed through the window behind Bentick’s head.

  “Tomorrow a visitor comes to Britain,” he murmured. “He is one of the leaders of a nation that is powerful, and is also an ally. No one, I may add, is fond of that nation, but the fact is that without its alliance we should not be in a very strong position if trouble came. You follow?”

  Bentick nodded slowly. He knew which nation Cain was meaning. It was a powerful nation, no doubt about it, and situated as it was in the most strategic position in Europe, its friendship was vital to Britain. Yet everyone who knew more than a smattering of international affairs was distrustful of the necessary alliance. It was forced on them by circumstance, not from choice.

  “Go on,” said Bentick quietly. “What is our visitor coming here for? Negotiations?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” replied Cain. “He will be bringing with him details of a development in scientific warfare which it has been agreed to exchange for a modified plan of the latest armour piercing projectile I mentioned earlier on. The exchange will be carried out with the greatest secrecy possible.”

  “And I take it that I’m to be watch-dog for the meeting? Is that it?” He wrinkled his nose in a grimace of displeasure. “What’s the name of our visitor?”

  “Nargan,” answered Cain. “You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?”

  Bentick’s lips went tight. Yes, he’d heard of Nargan all right! The most unpleasant man that politics of an international scale had ever produced. And it looked as if he, Bentick, was to be responsible for the safety of the man during his stay. An unwanted assignment, he thought. However, there was nothing he could do about it. When Cain issued an order it was carried through without argument. He had that effect on his men, and they stuck with him through any kind of trouble that fate could devise.

  “You know,” said Bentick soberly, “I hate the notion of Nargan getting away with any of our secrets, even if he gives us something we haven’t got ourselves in exchange. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him!”

  “Which wouldn’t be very far!” said Cain with one of his rare smiles. “They tell me he’s putting on weight.”

  Bentick grunted. He foresaw a thoroughly distasteful period ahead of him.

  “Let me have the details,” he said. “I might as well know the worst.”

  “Nargan arrives by air tomorrow morning,” said Cain. “You are to meet him and escort him to a destination I shall give you later on. The man will be travelling in disguise and there is no one else in on the visit except you and I and the person who arranged it after careful consultation with the Cabinet. The utmost secrecy has been maintained, so that although a limited number of people know what is in the wind no one but us knows exactly when and where the meeting will occur. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly,” answered Bentick. “Even the Special Branch aren’t in on the visit?”

  “No. That is how it has been arranged.” Cain broke off with a frown. “It throws the entire responsibility on us,” he added grimly. “Frankly I don’t like it any more than you do, Bentick, but that’s the way it is. This man we distrust, yet are compelled to trust by circumstances, is coming to England and must be guarded. Nothing, you understand, must happen to him. If it did, then I think you can realise what dire results would come about. Any harm that comes to Nargan will fall on the head of this country, and with international affairs in their present state of tension it could only mean appalling calamity. Do I make myself plain?”

  “You certainly do, sir!” answered Bentick. “I won’t let you down, but I can’t pretend to fancy the job.”

  Cain eyed him narrowly. “It isn’t for us to like or dislike the work we do,�
�� he said quietly. “All I’m hoping is that nothing happens, then you’ll have no greater worry than putting up with a very unsavoury customer.”

  Bentick raised a rueful smile.

  “All right,” he said. “Now let me have the full details and I’ll be ready to take over the moment Nargan arrives in the morning.”

  Cain gave a satisfied nod. Then: “Have you ever heard of Professor Dale?”

  Bentick pricked his ears up. Where did Dale come in? Aloud he said:

  “You mean the noted scientist? The man who’s been experimenting with cosmic radiations for the past five years? Yes, of course I’ve heard of him.”

  “Professor Dale is the man behind most of the advance work of the atomic projectile I mentioned,” went on Cain. “He’s a little eccentric, naturally, but he’s a clever man to have working for Britain in times like this. The brains in his head have been even more priceless to mankind. Without them I feel sure we should have had another war on our hands before now.”

  “Agreed,” said Bentick slowly. “What about him?”

  “Nargan is meeting our own representative at Dale’s house in Cornwall. You will be responsible for seeing he gets there safely and carries through his consultation. Professor Dale’s place is ideal for the meeting, since only himself and his ward are there. It is a lonely spot, and a very old building. Dale has his own laboratory there, and from what I hear is engaged on some fantastic work of his own.” He smiled again, thinly. “If you’re lucky you might discover what it is, but I warn you that Dale is a very queer customer, so don’t go snooping around uninvited!”

  Bentick gave a shaky laugh. “It’s most unlikely!” he replied. “I’ll be sticking as close as glue to Nargan all the time. Don’t worry about that, sir!”

  Cain nodded. “I know I can trust you, Bentick,” he answered. “The plane from Europe arrives just after dawn. You will have a car at your disposal at the airport, and Nargan will give you a pass to establish his identity. No one will know who he is or what his business is. You will take him straight to Professor Dale’s house. Dale has told me that a separate suite will be available for Nargan during the time he is there. That is all I can tell you now. Any further instructions will be handed to you before you leave for the airport at dawn.”

  Bentick rose to his feet and stood looking down at Cain. His youthful face belied the grimness that lurked in the back of his mind. This assignment, if all went well, would merely be an irksome part of his duty, but if anything did go wrong it would be the finish of his career. He knew that from Cain’s expression and the manner in which the man had spoken. And Bentick’s career as an agent of Britain was as precious as life itself.

  “Very good, sir,” he said. “You can leave it to me. When does our own man arrive at Dale’s place?”

  “Noon the day after to-morrow,” answered Cain. “He will be leaving again in the evening.”

  Bentick nodded. “I’ll report when the job’s done,” he said.

  CHAPTER 2

  NARGAN

  Bentick was a very thoughtful man as he left Cain’s office and made his way back to his own apartment. Cain’s brief description of the situation had intrigued him enormously, as well as what the man had told him regarding the mysterious Professor Dale and the products of his mind. Dale was certainly a useful man, he reflected, and his Cornish home would be an ideal meeting place for the coming vital rendezvous between Nargan and the person representing Britain in the important exchange of information.

  Bentick had never met or seen Nargan, but his reputation was an ugly one that travelled ahead of him wherever he went. The man was gross and as hard as granite. Bentick could see that he himself was in for an unpleasant time during his duty at Dale’s place.

  The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. News of the international situation was non-committal, but to those who had access to inside information it was grave. The nations of the world were tottering on the brink of another holocaust that would surely see the end of sanity on earth. Only by the most careful handling could the position be steadied. Part of that steadying action, a major part of it, rested with Nargan. And Nargan’s safety was Bentick’s responsibility. Any slight leakage of the truth behind the coming secret meeting would be fatal, for jealous nations would seize on the exchange of information as being a step towards war instead of away from its peril.

  Bentick felt the weight that rested on his shoulders. He was not afraid, but there were many other tasks he would prefer to undertake with confidence.

  Dawn, however, found him waiting at the airport for Nargan’s aircraft to arrive.

  Standing close to the landing area, staring up at the lightening sky above, he waited, wondering what manner of man Nargan would prove to be and how his disguise would suit him.

  Behind him, on the broad sweep of tarmac in front of the airport buildings, stood the armoured limousine that had been allocated to him.

  Bentick straightened up as the plane showed through the clouds and circled the airport gracefully, the rising sun tipping its tapered wings with crimson and silver.

  As the great plane touched down and ran to a stop Bentick went on waiting. ,

  Airport officials gathered round the exit hatch in the side of the fuselage. One or two passengers appeared. There were very few on this early plane. Most travellers preferred to make the trip by daylight.

  Bentick drifted nearer, hands in pockets. He moved them alternately from his jacket to trouser pockets. He had been told to do this by Cain. Apparently Nargan would recognise him from the signs before he made himself known.

  Two men and a woman passed him by without a glance. There was only one other passenger alighting. He was a short, stumpy figure, clad in a heavy overcoat and the flat crowned hat of a scholar. There was white hair showing on either side of his head and he peered round short-sightedly through pebble lensed spectacles that magnified his pupils into monstrous orbs. Seeing Bentick he walked across with a queer kind of shambling gait and halted in front of the agent.

  “I wish for someone to help me in finding my way round this place,” he announced in a flat, toneless voice. “You are doing nothing. You will look after me!”

  Bentick took his hands from his pockets. So far so good, he thought.

  “Only too glad to oblige,” he murmured. “Are your papers in order?”

  Nargan, for Nargan it was, gave a brief nod and fumbled in his pocket. He brought out a piece of folded paper and handed it to Bentick, holding it as if he was showing the man an address and asking to be directed there.

  Bentick scanned the authority notice narrowly. Yes, he thought, everything was in order. Nargan was wearing the disguise so closely described by Cain in his latest instructions. The authority paper was genuine. Everything was as it should be.

  Nargan followed him as he turned and led the way to the sleek car. Nargan clutched a brief case beneath his arm and glanced round before getting inside.

  Bentick drove swiftly to the checking office and saw Nargan through the formalities. They were simple enough, for Nargan was travelling as a business representative from Britain’s closest ally in Europe. As a front it was ideal, and Bentick had no misgivings that anything out of the ordinary would arise. Nargan, of course, carried papers which were technically false, but that did not matter under the circumstances.

  Once they were clear of the airport the visitor changed his manner completely. Up till then Bentick had been thinking that looking after the man might not be so bad as he had expected, but Nargan very soon showed himself as he really was.

  “Drive faster!” he snapped. “Do you want some of your revolutionary people to see me and have me assassinated? I am a very important man at the moment! I shall make my own terms with your country and in the end we shall bring it to heel as we have always intended!”

  Bentick’s mouth tightened. Nargan could certainly be unpleasant, he reflected. Oh well, he’d have to put up with that kind of insulting behaviour until the man went home agai
n. It was fortunate that he wouldn’t be staying for long.

  With an effort he kept his temper under control and smiled, driving the car faster than before.

  “I trust your visit will be satisfactory, Nargan,” he said quietly. “You will find our people quite willing to co-operate with you. My country and yours must remain on friendly terms if international peace is to stay.”

  Nargan nodded heavily. “The co-operation will come from you because you have no choice but to do as I dictate!” he snapped. “Now stop talking and hurry. I am tired and filthy from your dirty aircraft! This country appals me!”

  Bentick bit back the sharp retort that rose to his lips. No one would thank him for antagonising the man, he thought. This was the very devil!

  They continued on the road to Cornwall in silence for a time. Then:

  “Where is this hovel I am being taken to?” demanded the foreigner. “I was given to understand it is a country house. If it does not come up to my expectations I shall return immediately.”

  “I think you will find it suitable,” answered Bentick grimly. “Everything has been done to make your stay comfortable. Professor Dale will not inconvenience you in any way, and a private suite has been set aside for your own exclusive use while you’re there.”

  Nargan grunted rudely. Neither man spoke again till Bentick wheeled the car through the rusty gates of Dale’s rambling estate on the rugged edge of Cornish moorland.

  As he drew up in front of the house itself Nargan got out and stood for a moment gazing at the building with a sneer on his face. It was an ugly face at the best of times. Now Bentick found it truly repulsive. All the evil of the world might have been there in the brain behind its features.

  “A mean place!” said Nargan. He spat on the ground at his feet.

  Bentick eyed Dale’s home appreciatively. It was a grey stone house nearly five hundred years of age, mellowed by time and weather till the sunlight gleamed silver where it struck and glanced off the sober stone. But Nargan had called it mean. Bentick gave a shrug, turning towards the broad worn steps that led to the massive front door of place. Nargan followed him with obvious ill-grace, glancing from side to side in a short-sighted fashion that although deceptive never missed any detail.