Prince Cecil: XVI

Chapter XVI.

Business As Usual

The back of Daleth’s restaurant looked the same as Cecil remembered it that night that seemed so long ago when he had first joined the underground. The same dumpster stood beneath the same window and by its aid Cecil and Mikhailov effected an entrance. Cecil rang up the watch shop on the telephone in Daleth’s living room and in fifteen minutes Karotski and Leiber appeared.
‘Well, so there you are,’ said Karotski as he entered, but he started as he saw Cecil and exclaimed, ‘What happened to you?’
Cecil stared at him, puzzled.
‘What’s the matter with your eye?’ added Leiber. ‘It’s blue.’
‘Oh, that,’ said Cecil. ‘It’s nothing. We had a bit of a scrap, that’s all.’
‘I think I did that,’ said Mikhailov in embarrassment. ‘I didn’t know who he was.’
‘You didn’t, eh?’ said Karotski.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ explained Cecil. ‘I insulted him. And it doesn’t hurt anymore, anyway.’
‘You should ask Daleth for a beef steak to put on it,’ suggested Leiber.
‘That’s all very well,’ said Karotski drily. ‘What I want to know is, who is this person, anyway?’
‘He’s the new commander in chief of the imperial army,’ said Cecil. ‘Speaking of beef steak, would you mind asking Daleth to send up some supper for him? When did you last eat, Mik?’
‘Can’t remember; couldn’t care,’ said Mikhailov who was sprawled in a chair with his hands behind his head, enjoying the momentary lull. ‘Lead me to the larder. I’m not particular.’
‘We’ll see to that presently,’ said Karotski sharply. ‘But where have you been all this time? I thought you’d gone to see Kaparthy but when I talked to her she said you’d left hours ago and started worrying like a woman that something had happened to you.’
‘We got picked up by the SO,’ said Cecil and was prevented from saying more by the start Karotski and Leiber made simultaneously.
‘Impossible!’ said Karotksi. ‘Then how are you here?’
‘We escaped,’ said Cecil.
‘The deuce you did! What on earth do you mean? Did they actually arrest you?’
‘Not really arrested; we were apprehended,’ Cecil explained. ‘They took us in for questioning—’
‘Stop,’ said Karotski. ‘They took you in where?’
‘To the SO headquarters.’
‘There?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then how did you get away?’
‘I found the breaker room and cut the main power cable.’
‘And—got out?’
‘Yes. None of their alarms worked and the fence was useless.’
Karotski stared alternately at Cecil and Mikhailov, completely amazed.
‘So you were actually in that place,’ said Leiber.
‘What did you tell them?’ asked Karotski, coming out of his amazement and snapping into practicality again.
‘I didn’t tell them anything,’ said Cecil. ‘Zköllmann told me a lot, though—oh, I say!’
‘What?’
‘I forgot!’ said Cecil. ‘Sir Andrew Fletcher—they know about him. Zköllmann said so.’
‘They know about all of us, probably,’ said Karotski drily.
‘They suspect Leiber, but they don’t know about you—I’m pretty sure of that,’ said Cecil. ‘As long as they don’t know who you are we’re still all right.’
‘So they know about Fletcher, do they?’ said Karotski, ruminating.
‘Do you think they’ll kill him?’ asked Cecil.
‘Not right away, I should think. They’ve probably known about him for a few days at least and they haven’t arrested him yet—probably so they could watch him and get information.’
Karotski crossed his arms in thought.
‘Well,’ he continued; ‘that knocks out one of our chances. It was a small chance in the first place but now it’s non-existent.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Cecil.
‘We were going to ask him to try to contact the SIS,’ said Leiber. ‘We thought they might get us the men we need for an uprising.’
‘It was a straw and we, as drowning men, had to clutch at it,’ said Karotski. ‘The idea was impractical anyway. Even if the SIS wanted to help us, there wouldn’t be enough of them. We need an army.’
‘An army,’ repeated Cecil.
He sank into a chair despondently.
‘I’ve been an ass, Mik,’ he said ruefully. ‘That recording we did—I don’t know why I didn’t think of it—’
‘Yes, what of it?’ asked Mikhailov. ‘I was wondering what had become of all that.’
‘I switched it for the recording of Miss Kaparthy’s performance,’ explained Cecil. ‘A man was supposed to come and take it away to the radio broadcasting building so they could air it over the wireless.’
‘Over the wireless!’ exclaimed Mikhailov. ‘Do you mean that they played that song on every wireless in Pyromania? And all that row in the background too!’
‘It was the best way I could think of to make sure a lot of the Silver Heels heard it,’ said Cecil. ‘But even if they do hear it, they won’t know where to find us so they can join our forces. I didn’t think about it before. It was stupid of me. How could I have been so stupid?’
He felt not only embarrassed but absolutely silly. The plan had seemed a good one when he had first come up with it, but now that the excitement and danger were past his idea seemed sillier every minute.
‘What are you two talking about?’ said Karotski impatiently.
‘Never mind,’ said Cecil. ‘We tried to find some recruits but we failed and it was my fault. What an ass I am. I don’t know why I thought I could help Miss Kaparthy.’
They sat—or stood—in silence for several moments. No one could think of anything to say or anything to do. They were at the end of their wits and there seemed absolutely nothing left to try.
‘Speaking of Kaparthy,’ said Karotski, to whom the deference due a lady’s name meant nothing; ‘she told when I called her that she had something to tell you.’
‘Something to tell me?’ said Cecil, surprised. ‘What was it?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. I told her we didn’t know where you were and she started to worry like I said before.’
‘Then I’d better go see her,’ said Cecil.
He put on his cap and made for the door.
‘You’re not going out again, are you?’ asked Leiber. ‘You just got in.’
‘The SO will be looking for you,’ said Karotski.
‘I won’t be gone long,’ said Cecil and then remembering his previous adventures added, ‘Hopefully.’
He dashed down the stairs and into the dining area of Daleth’s restaurant. It was extraordinarily late—nearing ten o’clock—and the restaurant was of course deserted. Even Daleth was not at his usual place behind the counter. Only one lamp was lit and it hung in the centre of the room, throwing shadows into the farthest corners. And yet the place was not deserted after all: at one of the darkest tables sat a woman wrapped in a black opera cloak. Cecil stopped short.
‘Great Scot!’ he gasped.
Miss Kaparthy looked up.
‘There you are!’ she said.
Cecil glanced quickly around but there was nobody else to be seen. He hurried silently to her table and she rose as he came up.
‘How did you find us?’ asked Cecil.
‘Sir Andrew told me.’
‘Sir Andrew!’
‘Yes. Just before he was arrested.’
Cecil laid a hand on the table, suddenly feeling dizzy.
‘When?’ he said.
‘Half an hour ago.’
He did a rapid sum: they had arrested Sir Andrew just after Cecil and Mikhailov had escaped from the SO headquarters.
‘He wanted me to tell you,’ explained Miss Kaparthy. ‘I know it’s dangerous for me to be here, but there was no one else to come. I may have been followed—but I don’t think I was.’
Cecil bit his lip. It had been his fault that Sir Andrew had been arrested. If he had never gone to his house the first day the SO might never had had any evidence against the consul.
‘I’m glad you’re safe,’ said Miss Kaparthy. ‘Karotski didn’t know what had happened to you, and—’
‘You know his name, then?’ asked Cecil quickly.
‘Sir Andrew told me their names--Aleph's and Gimel's. He thought I might need to know them.
‘But Karotski really shouldn’t have called me earlier,’ she went on, as if to herself. ‘They may recognise him by his voice, now.’
‘Are you going to tell him about Sir Andrew?’ asked Cecil.

‘Will you tell them? I don’t know what they look like, and I think it would be better if I don’t see them.’
‘I’ll tell them,’ said Cecil.
‘I’ll go, then, before I’m caught.’
‘Karotski said you wanted to tell me something.’
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, pausing. ‘—I wanted to ask you something. It’s about those men.’
‘What men?’ he asked, startled.
‘The men who have been coming to my house all evening. They’ve been coming since eight o’clock.’
‘What sort of men are they?’
‘All sorts. One was a plumber, another was a bus driver, one was the second cello from the Skolzor Philharmonic Orchestra whom I’ve known for several years… They all asked me what the song meant that was played this evening over the wireless. It was supposed to be the performance this evening but it wasn’t. There was some mistake. I thought perhaps you knew something about it.’
‘Oh…’ said Cecil, suddenly remembering. ‘Yes, it was I. I’m sorry not to have asked you first but of course there wasn’t time. Those men you were talking about—how many were there?’
‘Over a dozen—in spite of the curfew—and then there were the telephone callers. There were dozens of those.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘I told them to wait in the church—it’s never locked up and the police don’t bother it much. I told them I’d explain things as soon as I could.’
‘Thank you!’ said Cecil turning rapidly towards the door.
‘But who are they?’ asked Miss Kaparthy.
‘I’m going to find out, but I think I know,’ said Cecil over his shoulder.
‘Your Highness, wait!’ said Miss Kaparthy.
Cecil paused with one hand on the door knob and looked back. She stood with a look of confusion mixed with a strange sort of hope.
‘I listened to the broadcast—’ she said. ‘—that song was so queer, I’ve never heard it before—and the voice was a man’s—Your Highness, whose voice was it?’
‘It was a friend of mine,’ said Cecil. ‘I can’t explain just now—isn’t he a wonderful singer?—Goodbye!’
And he dashed out of the restaurant into the darkness.

When he returned to the restaurant half an hour later, she was gone, but Karotski, Leiber, and Mikhailov were all still in the upstairs room; Mikhailov was eating a plateful of steak and potatoes, Leiber was making notes in a little brown notebook, and Karotski was striding up and down the room with his usual impatience.
‘Well?’ said several voices in unison as Cecil entered.
‘Capital!’ said Cecil. ‘I’ve found our army.’
‘Who? How?’
‘The Silver Heels,’ he said. ‘Mikhailov, our broadcast did it. You remember the Silver Heels, don’t you?’ (This he said to Karotski and Leiber.)
‘The king’s guard,’ said Karotski.
‘Yes,’ said Cecil. ‘They were the only ones who kept fighting for him in the take-over. They’re all as true as steel and as loyal as they ever were. Mik here’s one of them.’
‘I congratulate you,’ said Karotski. ‘Now just where is this army, as you call it?’
‘Miss Kaparthy found them—or they found her. They thought she was the one who had put that song over the wireless, you see and so they called her and wanted to know all about it. She sent them all down to the church and I found them waiting there. I told them to stand by for further orders. I’ve got all their names and telephone numbers—there’s thirty-four of them, and every one of them knows five or six more who may join us. That makes over a hundred and fifty.’
‘Provided those others will join us,’ observed Karotski.
‘And provided they don’t all know the same five or six,’ added Leiber.
‘Besides, what good would one hundred and fifty men do us? We’d need several hundred at least,’ said Karotski.
‘Maybe not,’ said Cecil.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking. There may be a way to take over with only a few men,’ said Cecil. ‘Isn’t there some sort of—of—what do you call it? –Some place where all the different government branches connect up to?’
‘Nerve-centre?’ suggested Mikhailov.
‘Yes—a place like the breaker room in the SO headquarters where, if you got control of it, you’d be able to mess up all the Javotskis at once? –Keep them from being able to do anything, I mean.’
Karotski and Leiber stared at Cecil as he said this, then slowly looked at each other.
‘By gum!’ said Leiber.
Karotski nodded.
‘The radio tower,’ he said.
‘The radio tower?’ asked Cecil.
‘It’s the Javotski mouthpiece,’ explained Karotski. ‘Every bit of news that Pyromanians get is through the wireless—not counting the newspapers, but they’re slow and we can count them out. If we got hold of the radio broadcasting station and sent round the news that Wakjavotski was dead and the prince had returned, we’d have the whole country rallied behind us in an hour.’
‘Really?’ said Mikhailov in excitement.
‘But we’d have to kill Wakjavotski,’ said Cecil.
‘That will be done,’ replied Karotski.
‘And we’d have to keep the Javotskis from figuring out what’s going on,’ said Mikhailov.
‘That, too, will be done,’ said Karotski.
He was no longer speaking of the operation as if it were simply an idea but as if it were a settled plan. He had thrown off all uncertainty and spoke as matter-of-factly as if he were simply out-lining a business scheme.
‘When?’ said Leiber.
‘To-morrow night,’ said Karotski.
‘Come,’ he added. ‘We can make the plans at the watch shop.’
Cecil, Leiber, and Mikhailov hurried after him as he strode out the door and down to the street. They went straight to the watch shop and up to the little room at the top of the stairs where Leiber’s great grandfather clock ticked stolidly.
‘Got the key?’ asked Karotski of Leiber.
‘Yes, here it is,’ said Leiber, taking out an old skeleton key and putting it into a keyhole in the little door on the front of the clock. Inside was the case where the heavy pendulum swung back and forth. Leiber reached into this space and pulled, from some secret nook, a sheaf of papers. These were maps of streets and floor plans of the government buildings. He and Karotski spread them out on the table.
‘There are two main executive organs of the government,’ said Karotski; ‘—the radio station and the main telephone hub. Those are the two ways the Javotskis get information to each other. With those two neutralised, enough confusion would be created to allow us to carry out the necessary operations for over-throwing the government.
‘First of all, Wakjavotski’s death is imperative. We can’t get the army without that prerequisite. Once the army is won over, the SO will be easy to knock out. Baden, Grosse, and Limbrugher must all be put out of action. This won’t be too difficult: they are always guarded, but several of our agents in SO uniforms (which can be procured) can arrest them without the guards intervening.
‘Here is the radio broadcasting station,’ said Karotski, drawing a circle on one of the maps. ‘This here,’ he said, making a tick mark on a nearby building; ‘—is a safe-house. It’s empty, and we shall make it our headquarters for to-morrow night. From there I’ll direct the operations by telephone.
‘Once Wakjavotski is dead,’ he continued; ‘I’ll give the codeword for the start of operations—the codeword will be Sevastopol.
‘There are three approaches to the radio station,’ he went on, addressing Mikhailov. ‘Here they are: the Grimes Boulevard, Bendzler Street, and 24th Avenue. The Silver Heels will guard all three approaching streets. You’ll want to make a rush on one of the doors of the station—either the front or back.’
‘How many guards are there?’ asked Mikhailov.
‘Eight all together.’
‘Heavily armed?’
‘Rifles and revolvers for most of them. There are two machine-gunners.’
‘Easily managed,’ replied Mikhailov.
‘There are only four second-storey windows and they command only the boulevard and 24th Avenue. That means the back door can’t be guarded from the second storey, as it opens onto Bendzler Street.’
‘It can be barricaded,’ said Mikhailov.
‘How many men will you require?’
‘Twenty to effect an entrance; after that, I’ll take as many as I can get to hold the building.’
‘What will you do for weapons?’
‘We’ll use the guards’ and any others that come to hand.’
‘We’ve a few among ourselves, but not many. You may be required to hold that building for some time, depending on how smoothly things go. How long do you think you can hold out?’
‘I should think an hour at least,’ said Mikhailov. ‘We’ll hold out to the death, of course.’
‘What about the main telephone hub?’ interposed Leiber.
‘Vau can manage that,’ Karotski replied. ‘He has his switchboard job still—he’ll be able to cut the connection to the palace for at least half an hour. That will be time enough for us to organise our forces.’
‘But what about Wakjavotski?’ asked Cecil. ‘How are we going to kill him?’
‘That is the one difficulty,’ said Karotski. ‘It would have to be done by one man alone; a large body wouldn’t have a chance of getting in and we haven’t enough men for that, anyway.’
‘But how is even one of us to get in?’ asked Cecil. ‘Miss Kaparthy wouldn’t tell me the secret way into the palace.’
‘There are other ways of getting in,’ said Karotski. ‘One of us might be able to do it in disguise.’
‘But they don’t let anyone in at all—except for Wakjavotski’s henchmen.’
‘They let scientists in, I hear,’ said Mikhailov. ‘The Superior is always interested in new machines.’
‘That’s so!’ said Karotski. ‘One of our men will enter, then, under pretence of demonstrating an invention.’
‘They’ll be sure to search him first, to make sure he’s unarmed,’ said Leiber.
‘The invention he will be demonstrating will be that special type of hand gun we got from the spy in Sofia,’ said Karotski.
He got down on his knees on the floor, pulled up a loose floorboard, drew out the weapon in question, and laid it on the table.
‘Wakjavotski isn’t familiar with this type of weapon yet, and I’m sure he’ll find it interesting.’
‘The guards will make sure it isn’t loaded,’ said Mikhailov, admiring the weapon.
‘But the assassin will have to load it in order to demonstrate how it fires,’ said Karotski. ‘He’ll demonstrate on Wakjavotski.’
‘There’s one problem, still,’ said Mikhailov. ‘Whoever does it won’t have a chance to escape—the guards will shoot him as soon as he’s killed Wakjavotski.’
‘The guards will probably be stunned at first,’ said Karotski. ‘That will give our man a few seconds. That pistol holds three cartridges. There are usually only two guards. Nobody will be alarmed by the sound of gunshots because Wakjavotski is always shooting things in his laboratory, so very likely our agent will be permitted to walk calmly out of the palace. If not, he could make use of the guards’ weapons.’
‘But it’s still a very slim chance,’ said Mikhailov.
‘Well, for the matter of that,’ said Karotski unconcernedly; ‘I’ll do it myself.’
‘You can’t!’ said Cecil. ‘We need you to direct the operations.’
‘He can direct them,’ said Karotski, pointing at Mikhailov.
‘I shall be busy,’ said Mikhailov. ‘Anyway, I don’t know the plans as well as you do. –And you’re the one who has to give the speech over the wireless.’
‘He’s right,’ said Leiber. ‘I shall have to do it.’
Nobody spoke for a moment because they all suddenly realised that Leiber was right. There was only one person who had the steady mind and cool nerves necessary to kill Wakjavotski with a single bullet in a split second, and that person was Leiber. Whether he could silence the guards before they gave the alarm and escape afterwards from the palace, was not so certain, but if Leiber could not do it, no one else could.
Karotski’s coolness evaporated. He stood still, staring at Leiber with a look of horror in his eyes. His lips tried to articulate a protest but not a sound came from them. He struggled and his face turned ashy while the hair at his temples grew damp.
Leiber returned his tortured gaze without flinching.
‘Do you think I’m going to let you go in there?’ asked Karotski, recovering his voice with difficulty. ‘You’ll die. You can’t make it. You’re important to this plan, too.’
‘This is my part in it,’ said Leiber.
‘Leiber, I won’t let you,’ said Karotski.
‘You know yourself it has to be me.’
‘No!’ said Karotski, and then added in a mutter, ‘You’ve suffered enough already.’
‘We’ve come this far already,’ said Leiber practically and unaffectedly. ‘Now we’ve got to give it everything we have left.’
Karotski said nothing.
‘I’ll get out,’ said Leiber reassuringly.

Karotski turned his face to the wall and said no more. Cecil and Mikhailov felt embarrassed. The only one who was at his ease, strangely enough, was Leiber. But Leiber had always accepted everything with the same imperturbable calm. When a person has been through enough hardship, he develops not only a stout exterior but a solid core as well. Mere events can no longer shake him.