Postern of Fate

  James looked up and wagged his tail. 'I quite agree with you,' the wag seemed to say. 'You've got the point at last. Come on. Hampstead Heath it is.' And it usually had been.

  Tommy wondered. He'd got the address of the place where he was going. The last time he had been to see Colonel Pikeaway it had been in Bloomsbury. A small poky room full of smoke. Here, when he reached the address, it was a small, nondescript house fronting on the heath not far from the birthplace of Keats. It did not look particularly artistic or interesting.

  Tommy rang a bell. An old woman with a close resemblance to what Tommy imagined a witch might look like, with a sharp nose and a sharp chin which almost met each other, stood there, looking hostile.

  'Can I see Colonel Pikeaway?'

  'Don't know I'm sure.' said the witch. 'Who would you be now?'

  'My name is Beresford.'

  'Oh, I see. Yes. He did say something about that.'

  'Can I leave the car outside?'

  'Yes, it'll be all right for a bit. Don't get many of the wardens poking around this street. No yellow lines just along here. Better lock it up, sir. You never know.'

  Tommy attended to these rules as laid down, and followed the old woman into the house.

  'One flight up.' she said, 'not more.'

  Already on the stairs there was the strong smell of tobacco. The witch-woman tapped at a door, poked her head in, said, 'This must be the gentleman you wanted to see. Says you're expecting him.' She stood aside and Tommy passed into what he remembered before, an aroma of smoke which forced him almost immediately to choke and gulp. He doubted he would have remembered Colonel Pikeaway apart from the smoke and the cloud and smell of nicotine. A very old man lay back in an armchair - a somewhat ragged armchair with holes on the arms of it. He looked up thoughtfully as Tommy entered.

  'Shut the door, Mrs Copes,' he said, 'don't want to let the cold air in, do we?'

  Tommy rather thought that they did, but obviously it was his not to reason why, his but to inhale and in due course die, he presumed.

  'Thomas Beresford,' said Colonel Pikeaway thoughtfully. 'Well, well, how many years is it since I saw you?'

  Tommy had not made a proper computation.

  'Long time ago,' said Colonel Pikeaway, 'came here with what's-his-name, didn't you? Ah well, never mind, one name's as good as another. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Juliet said that, didn't she? Silly things sometimes Shakespeare made them say. Of course, he couldn't help it, he was a poet. Never cared much for Romeo and Juliet, myself. All those suicides for love's sake. Plenty of 'em about, mind you. Always happening, even nowadays. Sit down, my boy, sit down.'

  Tommy was slightly startled at being called 'my boy' again, but he availed himself of the invitation.

  'You don't mind, sir,' he said, dispossessing the only possible seeming chair of a large pile of books.

  'No, no, shove 'em all on the floor. Just trying to look something up, I was. Well, well, I'm pleased to see you. You look a bit older than you did, but you look quite healthy. Ever had a coronary?'

  'No,' said Tommy.

  'Ah! Good. Too many people suffering from hearts, blood pressure - all those things. Doing too much. That's what it is. Running about all over the place, telling everyone how busy they are and the world can't get on without them, and how important they are and everything else. Do you feel the same? I expect you do.'

  'No,' said Tommy, 'I don't feel very important. I feel - well, I feel that I really would enjoy relaxing nowadays.'

  'Well, it's a splendid thought,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'The trouble is there are so many people about who won't let you relax. What took you to this place of yours where you're living now? I've forgotten the name of it. Just tell me again, will you?'

  Tommy obliged with his address.

  'Ah yes, ah yes, I put the right thing on the envelope then.'

  'Yes, I got your letter.'

  'I understand you've been to see Robinson. He's still going. Just as fat as ever; just as yellow as ever, and just as rich or richer than ever, I expect. Knows all about it too. Knows about money, I mean. What took you there, boy?'

  'Well, we had bought a new house, and a friend of mine advised me that Mr Robinson might be able to clear up a mystery that my wife and I found connected with it, relating to a long time back.'

  'I remember now. I don't believe I ever met her but you've got a clever wife, haven't you? Did some sterling work in the - what is the thing? Sounded like the catechism. N or M, that was it, wasn't it?'

  'Yes,' said Tommy.

  'And now you're on to the same line again, are you? Looking into things. Had suspicions, had you?'

  'No,' said Tommy, 'that's entirely wrong. We only went there because we were tired of the flat we were living in and they kept putting up the rent.'

  'Nasty trick,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'They do that to you nowadays, the landlords. Never satisfied. Talk about Daughters of the Horse Leech - sons of the horse leech are just as bad. All right, you went there to live. Il faut cultiver son jardin,' said Colonel Pikeaway, with a rather sudden onslaught on the French language. 'Trying to rub up my French again,' be explained. 'Got to keep in with the Common Market nowadays, haven't we? Funny stuff going on there, by the way. You know, behind things. Not what you see on the surface. So you went to live at Swallow's Nest. What took you to Swallow's Nest, I'd like to know?'

  'The house we bought - well, it's called The Laurels now,' said Tommy.

  'Silly name,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'Very popular at one time, though. I remember when I was a boy, all the neighbours, you know, they had those great Victorian drives up to the house. Always getting in loads of gravel for putting down on it and laurels on each side. Sometimes they were glossy green ones and sometimes the speckled ones. Supposed to be very showy. I suppose some of the people who've lived there called it that and the name stuck. Is that right?'

  'Yes, I think so,' said Tommy. 'Not the last people. I believe the last people called it Katmandu, or some name abroad because they lived in a certain place they liked.'

  'Yes, yes. Swallow's Nest goes back a long time. Yes, but one's got to go back sometimes. In fact, that's what I was going to talk to you about. Going back.'

  'Did you ever know it, sir?'

  'What - Swallow's Nest, alias The Laurels? No, I never went there. But it figured in certain things. It's tied up with certain periods in the past. People over a certain period. A period of great anxiety to this country.'

  'I gather you've come in contact with some information pertaining to someone called Mary Jordan. Or known by that name. Anyway, that's what Mr Robinson told us.'

  'Want to see what she looked like? Go over to the mantelpiece. There's a photograph on the left side.'

  Tommy got up, went across to the mantelpiece and picked up the photograph. It represented an old-world type of a photograph. A girl wearing a picture hat and holding up a bunch of roses towards her head.

  'Looks damn silly now, doesn't it?' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'But she was a good-looking girl, I believe. Unlucky, though. She died young. Rather a tragedy, that was.'

  'I don't know anything about her,' said Tommy.

  'No, I don't suppose so,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'Nobody does nowadays.'

  'There was some idea locally that she was a German spy,' said Tommy. 'Mr Robinson told me that wasn't the case.'

  'No, it wasn't the case. She belonged to us. And she did good work for us, too. But somebody got wise to her.'

  'That was when there were some people called Parkinson living there,' said Tommy.

  'Maybe. Maybe. I don't know all the details. Nobody does nowadays. I wasn't personally involved, you know. All this has been raked up since. Because, you see, there's always trouble. There's trouble in every country. There's trouble all over the world now and not for the first time. No. You can go back a hundred years, you'll find trouble, and you can go back another hundred years and you'll find trouble. Go back to the Crusades and you'll find every
one dashing out of the country going to deliver Jerusalem, or you'll find risings all over the country. Wat Tyler and all the rest of them. This, that and the other, there's always trouble.'

  'Do you mean there's some special trouble now?'

  'Of course there is. I tell you, there's always trouble.'

  'What sort of trouble?'

  'Oh, we don't know,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'They even come round to an old man like me and ask me what I can tell them, or what I can remember about certain people in the past. Well, I can't remember very much but I know about one or two people. You've got to look into the past sometimes. You've got to know what was happening then. What secrets people had, what knowledge they had that they kept to themselves, what they hid away, what they pretended was happening and what was really happening. You've done good jobs, you and your missus at different times. Do you want to go on with it now?'

  'I don't know,' said Tommy. 'If - well, do you think there is anything I could do? I'm rather an old man now.'

  'Well, you look to me as though you've got better health than many people of your age. Look to me as though you've got better health than some of the younger ones too. And as for your wife, well, she was always good at nosing out things, wasn't she? Yes, good as a well trained dog.'

  Tommy could not repress a smile.

  'But what is this all about?' said Tommy. 'I - of course I'm quite willing to do anything if - if you thought I could, but I don't know. Nobody's told me anything.'

  'I don't suppose they will,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'I don't think they want me to tell you anything. I don't suppose that Robinson told you much. He keeps his mouth shut, that large fat man. But I'll tell you, well, the bare facts. You know what the world's like - well, the same things always. Violence, swindles, materialism, rebellion by the young, love of violence and a good deal of sadism, almost as bad as the days of the Hitler Youth. All those things. Well, when you want to find out what's wrong not only with this country but world trouble as well, it's not easy. It's a good thing, the Common Market. It's what we always needed, always wanted. But it's got to be a real Common Market. That's got to be understood very clearly. It's got to be a united Europe, There's got to be a union of civilized countries with civilized ideas and with civilized beliefs and principles. The first thing is, when there's something wrong you've got to know where that something is and that's where that yellow whale of a fellow still knows his oats.'

  'You mean Mr Robinson?'

  'Yes, I mean Mr Robinson. They wanted to give him a peerage, you know, but he wouldn't have it. And you know what he means.'

  'I suppose,' said Tommy, 'you mean - he stands for - money.'

  'That's right. Not materialism, but he knows about money. He knows where it comes from, he knows where it goes, he knows why it goes, he knows who's behind things. Behind banks, behind big industrial undertakings, and he has to know who is responsible for certain things, big fortunes made out of drugs, drug pushers, drugs being sent all over the world, being marketed, a worship of money. Money not just for buying yourself a big house and two Rolls-Royces, but money for making more money and doing down, doing away with the old beliefs. Beliefs in honesty, in fair trading. You don't want equality in the world, you want the strong to help the weak. You want the rich to finance the poor. You want the honest and the good to be looked up to and admired. Finance! Things are coming back now to finance all the time. What finance is doing, where it's going, what it's supporting, how far hidden it is. There are people you knew, people in the past who had power and brains and their power and brains brought the money and means, and some of their activities were secret but we've got to find out about them. Find out who their secrets passed to, who they've been handed down to, who may be running things now. Swallow's Nest was a type of headquarters. A headquarters for what I should call evil. Later in Hollowquay there was something else. D'you remember Jonathan Kane at all?'

  'It's a name,' said Tommy. 'I don't remember anything personally.'

  'Well he was said to be what was admired at one time - what came to be known later as a fascist. That was the time before we knew what Hitler was going to be like and all the rest of them. The time when we thought that something like fascism might be a splendid idea to reform the world with. This chap Jonathan Kane had followers. A lot of followers. Young followers, middle-aged followers, a lot of them. He had plans, he had sources of power, he knew the secrets of a lot of people. He had the kind of knowledge that gave him power. Plenty of blackmail about as always. We want to know what he knew, we want to know what he did, and I think it's possible that he left both plans and followers behind him. Young people who were enmeshed and perhaps still are in favour of his ideas. There have been secrets, you know, there are always secrets that are worth money. I'm not telling you anything exact because I don't know anything exact. The trouble with me is that nobody really knows. We think we know everything because of what we've been through. Wars, turmoil, peace, new forms of government. We think we know it all, but do we? Do we know anything about germ warfare? Do we know everything about gases, about means of inducing pollution? The chemists have their secrets, medical science has its secrets, the Services have their secrets, the Navy, the Air Force - all sorts of things. And they're not all in the present, some of them were in the past. Some of them were on the point of being developed but the development didn't take place. There wasn't time for it. But it was written down, it was committed to paper or committed to certain people, and those people had children and their children had children and maybe some of the things came down. Left in wills, left in documents, left with solicitors to be delivered at a certain time.

  'Some people don't know what it is they've got hold of, some of them have just destroyed it as rubbish. But we've got to find out a little more than we do because things are happening all the time. In different countries, in different places, in wars, in Vietnam, in guerrilla wars, in Jordan, in Israel, even in the uninvolved countries. In Sweden and Switzerland - anywhere. There are these things and we want clues to them. And there's some idea that some of the clues could be found in the past. Well, you can't go back into the past, you can't go to a doctor and say, "Hypnotize me and let me see what happened in 1914," or in 1918 or earlier still perhaps. In 1890 perhaps. Something was being planned, something was never completely developed. Ideas. Just look far back. They were thinking of flying, you know, in the Middle Ages. They had some ideas about it. The ancient Egyptians, I believe, had certain ideas. They were never developed. But once the ideas passed on, once you come to the time when they get into the hands of someone who has the means and the kind of brain that can develop them, anything may happen - bad or good. We have a feeling lately that some of the things that have been invented - germ warfare, for example - are difficult to explain except through the process of some secret development, thought to be unimportant but it hasn't been unimportant. Somebody in whose hands it's got has made some adaptation of it which can produce very very frightening results. Things that can change a character, can perhaps turn a good man into a fiend, and usually for the same reason. For money. Money and what money can buy, what money can get. The power that money can develop. Well, young Beresford, what do you say to all that?'

  'I think it's a very frightening prospect,' said Tommy.

  'That, yes. But do you think I'm talking nonsense? Do you think this is just an old man's fantasies?'

  'No sir' said Tommy. 'I think you're a man who knows things. You always have been a man who knew things.'

  'H'm. That's why they wanted me, wasn't it? They came here complained about all the smoke, said it stifled them, but - well, you know there's a time - a time when there was that Frankfurt ring business - well, we managed to stop that. We managed to stop it by getting at who was behind it. There's a somebody, not just one somebody - several somebodies who are probably behind this. Perhaps we can know who they are, but even if not we can know perhaps what the things are.

  'I see,' said Tommy. 'I can almost underst
and.'

  'Can you? Don't you think this is all rather nonsense? Rather fantastic?'

  'I don't think anything's too fantastic to be true,' said Tommy. 'I've learnt that, at least, through a pretty long life. The most amazing things are true, things you couldn't believe could be true. But what I have to make you understand is that I have no qualifications. I have no scientific knowledge. I have been concerned always with security.'

  'But,' said Colonel Pikeaway. 'you're a man who has always been able to find out things. You. You - and the other one. Your wife. I tell you, she's got a nose for things. She likes to find out things and you go about and take her about. These women are like that. They can get at secrets. If you're young and beautiful you do it like Delilah. When you're old - I can tell you, I had an old great-aunt once and there was no secret that she didn't nose into and find out the truth about. There's the money side. Robinson's on to that. He knows about money. He knows where the money goes, why it goes, where it goes to, and where it comes from and what it's doing. All the rest of it. He knows about money. It's like a doctor feeling your pulse. He can feel a financier's pulse. Where the headquarters of money are. Who's using it, what for and why. I'm putting you on to this because you're in the right place. You're in the right place by accident and you're not there for the reason anyone might suppose you were. For there you are, an ordinary couple, elderly, retired, seeking for a nice house to end your days in, poking about into the corners of it, interested in talking. Some sentence one day will tell you something. That's all I want you to do. Look about. Find out what legends or stories are told about the good old days or the bad old days.'