The Dark Palace

‘I will be with you in a very short moment, good sir. Please, relax, enjoy the soothing vapours of the towels.’ Dortmunder stretched out a hand – the shop was so small he could reach Inchball from where he was standing – and replaced the damp cloth over his eye. In the last moment before darkness returned, Qui

In his scented darkness, Inchball strained to pick up a word that he could understand or that might be useful to him. A name. The name of a coastal town, perhaps. Or something that sounded like an English battleship. All that he was able to make out was Dortmunder clicking his heels in apparent military subordination and hissing, ‘Sehr gut, Herr Hartma

Inchball heard the door close. The sound of razor against strop resumed. The other man – Herr Hartma

Dortmunder removed the towels, his face beaming with ersatz bonhomie. If he had been rattled by Inchball’s seeing Hartma

Well, the guv’nor would eat his words now. This had been far from a wasted trip. He had witnessed the handing over of suspicious documents and he had a glimpse of the man who really did seem to be the spy master of Dortmunder’s cell.

And if the scent of the rich, warm foam that was being worked into his cheek was anything to go by, he was about to have a very good shave indeed.

ELEVEN

The camera arrived the following Monday. Qui

Macadam, of course, was beside himself with pleasure as he unpacked the camera. To Qui

Qui

‘You see, sir, focusing is done from the front and the back. The lens is a Zeiss Tessar, with a focal ratio of F6.3, which should serve us well in the conditions under which we shall be using it.’

‘What did you say?’ Inchball sat up sharply. His tone was dark and laden with suspicion. His brows contracted in a watchful frown. This was a man alert to every danger the nation faced.

‘F6.3. It’s commonly known as the f-number, although I prefer to call it the focal ratio.’

‘No, before that. The lens. Wha’ did you call it?’

‘A Zeiss Tessar.’

‘German, is it?’

‘Well, the lens is, yes. The Germans manufacture excellent optical equipment. Zeiss lenses in particular are considered to be the very best available. Rather more expensive than other lenses, but considering the importance of the work we will be undertaking, I felt that it was worth it.’

‘I don’t trust it.’

‘What?’ Macadam flashed a look of appeal towards Qui

‘Get rid of it,’ insisted Inchball.

‘You are joking!’

‘It’s unpatriotic. We should have an English lens on there. Besides, what if it’s a dud?’

‘What on earth are you talking about? How could it possibly be a dud? Zeiss lenses are the best in the world.’

‘The Germans, righ’, they’re pla

‘Tyres?’

‘Yeah, tyres. That would be your main one, that. So … righ’ … when the moment of truth comes, and we need to use any of this stuff we’ve bough’ from them, it all breaks down. All the tyres go flat. Nothin’ works – nothin’ we got from Germany. So while we’re all distracted tryin’ ’a fix it all – that’s when they strike. Get us at our weakest. It’s all part of their plan.’

‘Zeiss. Lenses. Are. The best. In the world!’ insisted Macadam with slow, deliberate emphasis. He could no longer keep his appeal to Qui

Qui

‘With respect, sir, I hardly think that using a Zeiss lens is making the best of it.’

Qui

‘Bleedin’ German lens,’ muttered Inchball.

Qui

They were now committed to keeping the barber shop under surveillance, as far as the limited resources of the department allowed. Qui

Qui

He had meant to throw it away, having no intention to accept its invitation:

You are cordially invited to the world premiere of

THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

The main reason he discounted the possibility of going, or so he told himself, was his a

But now, the mention of green ink by Lord Dunwich and the green ink on the package handed over in the barbershop … was there some co

He sca

The name sounded German. Perhaps there was something here after all.

He knew that Lord Dunwich was holding something back. His sort always did. But surely it didn’t follow that his lordship was in league with foreign spies? Perhaps the question about green ink had been prompted by a completely unrelated matter. Had Lord Dunwich received an invitation to the premiere too?

He made a mental note of the date of the event before returning the card to its place in his pile of correspondence.

Could it be that the spy operation was a red herring, designed to divert the department from something even more nefarious? Qui