Back Room Girl: By the author of Paul Temple. Francis Durbridge

whistled quietly. ‘So that’s it,’ he said. ‘No wonder you didn’t want any visitors. I don’t blame you.’

      ‘I didn’t think you would,’ went on the Chief Inspector, ‘when you knew. Just one of these things could completely wipe out a city as big as London or New York, and a hell of a sight more besides. I don’t know all the scientific details – those are Miss Silvers’ department; I’m concerned only with the security side of it – but I know enough to realize that no one inside or outside this country must get the secret, especially now that the work is nearly finished and the first completed rocket is being assembled.

      ‘Every man Jack here,’ he continued, ‘scientific staff, servants, guards, all hand-picked and vetted, is sworn to absolute secrecy. Only a very few people, not even their own relatives, know where they are, or what they are doing. Indeed, only a few of the staff know why they are here. The guards and servants certainly don’t.

      ‘And only Miss Silvers among the scientists here knows the whole thing from A to Z. The others know only their own particular part of the work. No one leaves here, or returns, except at night. All supplies and parts are brought in at night, quietly by sea, not by noisy lorries which might attract attention. No one has any contact with the village life. At intervals they are allowed to go home, leaving at night and returning at night on foot.’

      ‘What about plans?’ asked Roy. ‘Isn’t there anything on paper?’

      ‘There is,’ said the Chief Inspector, ‘but there’s no complete plan, not even in London. The plans are divided into a dozen sections, each in a different part of the country, but they’re not even under lock and key.’

      ‘Good God!’ The exclamation came from the shocked Roy. ‘Why ever not?’

      ‘We thought it would be better that way. For instance, there’s one part in an ordinary envelope in the tobacco jar on my mantelpiece at home. There’s another in a deed box in a solicitor’s office in Taunton. There’s a third among the manuscripts in the British Museum, and so on. Any ordinary person, if he happened to see them, would not understand the first thing about them, though a scientist who had worked on atomic projects might get a glimmering. But we couldn’t take the risk of anyone getting hold of the complete plan, so it was divided, as I’ve told you. And it’s a good thing it was.’

      ‘Oh, why?’

      ‘Because we have reason to suspect that there’s a criminal organization in this country that’s doing its damnedest to get the plans of the atomic rocket.’

      Roy whistled thoughtfully.

      ‘This must be since my time in Fleet Street.’ He smiled a trifle ruefully at the thought that things had already moved on so far since his crime-reporting days.

      ‘I’m not saying it’s generally known,’ put in Leyland quickly. ‘We’re not giving them any publicity – in fact we daren’t.’

      ‘Any idea who’s behind it all?’

      ‘Leyland frowned.

      ‘Not a word about this, mind,’ he repeated.

      ‘Of course not,’ said Roy, somewhat impatiently.

      ‘Do you think we ought to tell him all this, Inspector?’ queried Karen Silvers anxiously, a gleam of apprehension in her grey-blue eyes. ‘After all, what’s to stop him ringing up his old newpaper as soon as he gets out of here—’

      ‘I’ll take a chance on that, Miss Silvers,’ replied Leyland drily. ‘He’s always played straight with me, and he’s a useful man to have around at times.’

      ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ said Roy ironically. ‘But I won’t be of much use unless I know the person I’m up against. You know my weakness for facts.’

      The Inspector slowly filled his pipe and lit it.

      ‘This may come as a bit of a surprise to you, Roy,’ he said slowly, as he held a match to Karen’s cigarette. ‘And you must realize it’s quite off the record. There’s a lot to be checked yet before we can grab this customer.’

      ‘I take it there’s no time to be wasted,’ said Roy meaningly as he took three fierce puffs at his cigarette. ‘Come on, Inspector – who is this mystery man?’

      Leyland passed his hand over his thin sandy hair, and said in a casual voice, ‘You’ve heard of Fabian Delouris, I suppose.’

      Roy looked up quickly.

      ‘Delouris – the armaments king?’ he exclaimed with a low whistle. ‘But I thought he was worth millions.’

      ‘He is worth millions,’ nodded Leyland.

      ‘Then why should he go in for crime at his time of life?’

      ‘There are other things besides money – such as power, for instance,’ murmured Leyland. ‘As to crime – well,when a man’s been in the armaments racket for twenty years I don’t suppose he has many morals left. He did quite a bit of gun-running and stirring up revolutions in his young days, you know … before he dealt in a really big way.’

      ‘A case of “once a crook”, eh?’ mused Roy, looking across at Karen Silvers, who was smoking her cigarette and apparently lost in her own thoughts.

      ‘Why do you think Delouris should suddenly break out at this stage?’ he continued. Leyland shrugged.

      ‘Don’t ask me to define his motives. Maybe he thinks the man who controls the atom will be the king-pin of existence … maybe it’s just a fit of panic that rifles and machine-guns won’t count for much in the armaments market from now on, and he simply wants to corner atomic weapons to keep ’em off the market.’

      ‘What makes you suspect him, anyhow?’

      The Inspector smiled. ‘I’m not going into all that now, Roy. As you know, we’ve our own methods of finding out things, and several men we’ve been checking on have led us straight to Delouris in one way or another. As far as we can judge, he’s got a pretty hefty organization behind him, and it’s going to be none too pleasant when we get to grips with them. They’re a tough lot of boys – several ex-German prisoners who escaped, a sprinkling of deserters from the American Forces when they were over here, one or two old lags we know well enough, and a couple of pilots from the Australian Air Force, who fly his special private ’planes, Oh yes, it’s quite a set-up, I can tell you. Quite a set-up!’

      Roy shook his head a trifle dubiously.

      ‘I’m still surprised that a man like Delouris, who can make his millions without much effort, would think such a gamble is worth the risk.’

      The Inspector carefully stubbed out his cigarette.

      ‘How many of us would resist the opportunity to become a world dictator?’ he slowly demanded.

      Roy glanced across at Karen. ‘There are other things in life,’ he murmured.

      ‘Not for him. He’s had all the women he wants … all the money … the worldly goods … He saw how far Hitler went – and I reckon he means to profit by his mistakes.’

      Roy eased his bandage a little. The throbbing had almost stopped now, and the hot tea had cleared the fuzziness from his brain.

      ‘Well, I can see I’ll have to bolt my doors and windows in future, Inspector,’ he said lightly.

      ‘I should strongly advise it,’ declared Leyland, with surprising seriousness.

      ‘Eh – what d’you mean?’

      ‘I mean,’ replied Leyland deliberately, ‘that we have reason to suspect that the headquarters of this organization is somewhere within five miles of where you’re sitting.’

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