beneath Hugh: they were going over cobbles and the rudimentary suspension of the van couldn’t cope.
Hugh bit his lip in an effort to keep back the tears. For once his parents had been proved right. He pulled himself up, using the side of the van as a support. The van, now travelling at some speed, took a sharp turn to the left. Hugh lost his balance and careered over to the right. His fall was partially broken by a large, unyielding object that hung along the far side of the van. It was cold, firm and sticky.
Both his hands and one cheek felt clammy from its touch. Hugh lifted one hand to his nose and sniffed cautiously.
It smelled of blood.
Madame Hase hailed one of the taxi-cabs which lurked in wait outside the Palacky’s door. She pushed Kendall before her into the back and scrambled in after him. Her skirt – far too short for Kendall’s taste – rode up, exposing sturdy legs; wiry black hairs poked through the flesh-coloured silk stockings.
She told the driver to take them to Nadrasi Dejvice, a suburban station on the other side of the river just north of the great hill of Hradcany.
‘We can walk from there,’ she whispered to Kendall. ‘It would be foolish to drive straight to the shop.’
‘Whose shop?’ Kendall was too angry to keep his voice down.
Madame Hase patted his knee reprovingly. ‘Jan’s, of course,’ she said in an undertone. ‘Your letter was in Bela’s handwriting so it’s the obvious place. Jan and Bela are on the Provisional Committee for Prague.’ She giggled incongruously. ‘They do everything together, you see.’
‘It’s damnable,’ Kendall burst out. ‘Do you Bolsheviks make a habit of kidnapping the sons of British subjects?’
‘No, no, my friend.’ She patted his knee again and Kendall edged away. ‘You don’t understand: the fact they took your son is good. It means they think you are worth taking seriously. We have a proverb: in English it would be something like “You don’t mark the pack if you don’t want to play cards”.’
Kendall looked blankly at her. ‘I don’t see why you’re so cheerful. If they’re just going to give Hugh back, why bother to take him in the first place? It’s perfectly obvious they’re going to use him as a lever to blackmail me.’
She shook her head and leaned closer to him. ‘First they did it to show you they are strong men, men you must respect. Next they did it to make sure your son is really English. But, most of all, they did it so that you would hand over the diamonds to them at a place which they choose, not you. Once you have exchanged the diamonds and the boy, we can all get down to business.’
‘How did they know where I was staying? How did they know the one time that Hugh was going out by himself? It was your suggestion that he should go for a walk.’
Madame Hase ignored the suspicion in his voice. ‘I had to tell them your name and where you were staying. They wouldn’t just take my word, you know. They’ve been watching you since you arrived. There will be plenty of Party members at the Palacky to act as their eyes and ears. Communism makes a simple emotional appeal to waiters and bellboys and that class of person.’ She squeezed his knee. ‘Leave the talking to me, as much as possible. We will offer them two of the diamonds in exchange for the boy; they do not know how many you have brought.’
‘What if they search you?’ Kendall objected.
This time she nudged him in the ribs. ‘Two diamonds are in my bag. The others are in a hiding place only ladies have.’ She tittered and snuggled closer to Kendall. ‘Jan and Bela are not the sort of men who enjoy searching the intimate parts of ladies.’
Kendall blushed and cleared his throat. It was difficult to imagine anyone less like a lady than his present companion. To his great relief she pulled away from him.
‘You must say very little – be cold and angry and very British gentlemanly. I want to make them feel that they have gone too far, that they have been rash in offending you so casually.’ She broke off and studied Kendall thoughtfully for a few seconds. ‘Yes, I think I shall say you are the head of the Middle European network of SIS. That should impress them.’
Kendall had never heard the acronym before. He guessed it might refer to the British secret service. He felt a sudden spasm of hatred for this domineering woman beside him. He drew out a cigarette and tapped it deliberately against his case.
‘That, madame, is precisely who I am.’
When the van stopped, Hugh wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stood up. He had been crouching for so long that his knees screamed with agony.
The doors opened and the curtains were pulled back. The bull-like man beckoned him to come out.
Hugh jumped down and glanced around. He was in a cobbled yard. On three sides were sheds; on the fourth was a brick wall, ten feet high and topped with a row of spikes. The other man had his back to them: he was barring the heavy double gates in the middle of the wall. During the journey the afternoon had turned into evening.
His captor seized Hugh’s ear between a huge thumb and forefinger and led him over to one of the sheds. He shot back the two bolts, undid the padlock and pushed Hugh inside.
A match rasped and flared. The tall, thin man followed them in and closed the door behind them; his colleague lit a paraffin lamp. The wick was untrimmed and the lamp sputtered fitfully, throwing out a flickering yellow light.
The shed was about five yards square. It had a concrete floor and was lined with crudely built shelves of unvarnished pine. There were piles of tins on the shelves. All the tins which Hugh could see bore the same picture – a garishly pink joint of ham.
The picture connected in his mind with the blood on his face and hands. He might have fallen against a pig’s carcass. The thought made him feel slightly better.
The taller man pointed at Hugh’s face and said something in Czech. Both men chuckled.
Their laughter made Hugh feel a little bolder. ‘Why have you brought me here?’ he demanded. ‘Who are you?’
Neither of them replied. The bull-like man, who seemed to be the leader, said something else in Czech. He walked behind Hugh and grabbed him by the shoulders; the grip was firm but not painful. The younger man knelt in front of Hugh and methodically emptied his pockets.
One by one, Hugh’s possessions formed a little pile on the concrete. Some items aroused little interest; but others, including the guidebook and Hiawatha, were obviously considered important.
Hugh tried to work out the motive for their search. When the thin man passed his purse, containing Aunt Vida’s half-crown, to his colleague, the answer suddenly occurred to him: they were interested in anything that suggested he was English. The guidebook had the stamp of a London bookshop on the flyleaf; underneath Hiawatha’s base were the words Made in England. The hypothesis seemed to be confirmed when the two men exclaimed excitedly over the school outfitter’s label inside his jacket.
The conclusion intensified his fear: perhaps they were going to strip away all evidence of his name and nationality as a preliminary to murdering him.
When the search was over, the big man released his shoulders. Hugh backed away until he came to the shelves. He knew he had to do something before it was too late. One of those tins might make a weapon.
