Read Online Spy and the Thief by Edward D. Hoch - Free Book Online
Authors: Edward D. Hoch
Ads: Link
kind?”
“We used number groups after a polyalphabetic substitution. They had their direction finders on us, of course. It was a dangerous business. Today I understand that agents often tape the message in advance, and simply transmit it at a higher speed. Much safer, because you’re on the air for a shorter period.”
Rand nodded and they started strolling. The wind was warm against their faces, sweeping down between the distant hills to find a sort of freedom where the moor stretched out to greet it. Perhaps Hans Suffern had found freedom here too.
They talked of codes and messages for an hour as they walked about, and Rand did not find anything to indicate that Suffern was other than the man he claimed to be. “You understand,” he said at last, “there is no one left from Prosper to identify you. We must have some sort of proof.”
The little German smiled. “I understand.”
“Have you ever been to Brazil?”
“No. Never.”
“Not during the war?”
“No.” He smiled. “I was quite busy in France at the time.”
“Where did you learn so much about electric eels?”
“I studied ichthyology in Berlin before the war, and recently I was employed at an aquarium outside Paris.”
Rand knew the part about the aquarium was true. They started back across the moor, and he wondered what he would tell Colonel Nelson. He’d learned nothing at all—except that the man knew a great deal about codes and ciphers. And electric eels.
That evening he phoned Colonel Nelson. “I don’t have a thing. The man looks clean, Colonel.”
There was a grunt on the phone. “Really?”
Rand recognized the tone of triumph, “You have something?”
“Nothing conclusive. We transmitted a current photograph of Suffern to America by television satellite. A professor there who worked with Schultz says he’s almost certain it’s the same man.”
“All right,” Rand said with a sigh. “Tomorrow I’ll ask more questions.”
He found Suffern back at the eel pool, faced toward the rising sun as he worked the dials on a tank of chemicals. “You’re an early riser,” Rand said, making conversation.
“I rise when my friends do,” he said, gesturing toward the pool.
“You know the nature of the research being conducted here?”
“A bit. As much as they’ll allow me to know. It has to do with a method of counteracting the effects of a certain nerve gas now in Russian hands. The eels—”
“You know a great deal,” Rand interrupted, deciding to try a bluff, “You know things that could only have been learned in America. And at a camp on the Amazon. You’re Schultz, aren’t you?”
“Who? Schultz?”
“Let’s cut out the games. You were a German agent named Schultz more than twenty years ago. An American has identified your picture. And we have other proof too.”
The bald little German smiled. “I doubt that.”
“Something as conclusive as fingerprints. You knew the Prosper Network was all but destroyed during the war, so you figured no one could come forward to dispute your story. But there is one man, and he works for me back in London. He’s the man who sat in a house on the Dover cliffs and took down the coded messages from Prosper. A telegraph operator’s sending is as distinctive to an expert as a fingerprint. Even after twenty years he’ll be able to tell me if it was really your hand that sent the Prosper messages.”
Hans Suffern suddenly looked like a much older man—a man tired of running, perhaps tired of living. And he looked very ill as he gazed into the pool for a moment, gripping the damp railing with his hands. In that instant Rand thought that he might jump in, but instead the old man turned and said quietly. “All right, I admit it. I am Schultz.”
Rand didn’t smile. Was the man at the end of the road? Was that why the confession had come so easily? Rand murmured, “You’re doing the wise thing, admitting it.”
“But I’m not a Russian agent—you must believe
“We used number groups after a polyalphabetic substitution. They had their direction finders on us, of course. It was a dangerous business. Today I understand that agents often tape the message in advance, and simply transmit it at a higher speed. Much safer, because you’re on the air for a shorter period.”
Rand nodded and they started strolling. The wind was warm against their faces, sweeping down between the distant hills to find a sort of freedom where the moor stretched out to greet it. Perhaps Hans Suffern had found freedom here too.
They talked of codes and messages for an hour as they walked about, and Rand did not find anything to indicate that Suffern was other than the man he claimed to be. “You understand,” he said at last, “there is no one left from Prosper to identify you. We must have some sort of proof.”
The little German smiled. “I understand.”
“Have you ever been to Brazil?”
“No. Never.”
“Not during the war?”
“No.” He smiled. “I was quite busy in France at the time.”
“Where did you learn so much about electric eels?”
“I studied ichthyology in Berlin before the war, and recently I was employed at an aquarium outside Paris.”
Rand knew the part about the aquarium was true. They started back across the moor, and he wondered what he would tell Colonel Nelson. He’d learned nothing at all—except that the man knew a great deal about codes and ciphers. And electric eels.
That evening he phoned Colonel Nelson. “I don’t have a thing. The man looks clean, Colonel.”
There was a grunt on the phone. “Really?”
Rand recognized the tone of triumph, “You have something?”
“Nothing conclusive. We transmitted a current photograph of Suffern to America by television satellite. A professor there who worked with Schultz says he’s almost certain it’s the same man.”
“All right,” Rand said with a sigh. “Tomorrow I’ll ask more questions.”
He found Suffern back at the eel pool, faced toward the rising sun as he worked the dials on a tank of chemicals. “You’re an early riser,” Rand said, making conversation.
“I rise when my friends do,” he said, gesturing toward the pool.
“You know the nature of the research being conducted here?”
“A bit. As much as they’ll allow me to know. It has to do with a method of counteracting the effects of a certain nerve gas now in Russian hands. The eels—”
“You know a great deal,” Rand interrupted, deciding to try a bluff, “You know things that could only have been learned in America. And at a camp on the Amazon. You’re Schultz, aren’t you?”
“Who? Schultz?”
“Let’s cut out the games. You were a German agent named Schultz more than twenty years ago. An American has identified your picture. And we have other proof too.”
The bald little German smiled. “I doubt that.”
“Something as conclusive as fingerprints. You knew the Prosper Network was all but destroyed during the war, so you figured no one could come forward to dispute your story. But there is one man, and he works for me back in London. He’s the man who sat in a house on the Dover cliffs and took down the coded messages from Prosper. A telegraph operator’s sending is as distinctive to an expert as a fingerprint. Even after twenty years he’ll be able to tell me if it was really your hand that sent the Prosper messages.”
Hans Suffern suddenly looked like a much older man—a man tired of running, perhaps tired of living. And he looked very ill as he gazed into the pool for a moment, gripping the damp railing with his hands. In that instant Rand thought that he might jump in, but instead the old man turned and said quietly. “All right, I admit it. I am Schultz.”
Rand didn’t smile. Was the man at the end of the road? Was that why the confession had come so easily? Rand murmured, “You’re doing the wise thing, admitting it.”
“But I’m not a Russian agent—you must believe
Similar Books
