Mission to Monte Carlo

CHAPTER ONE-2

“That thought did cross my mind,” the Marquis replied. “It might also account for the fact that he left the ship he was on.”

He paused before he added,

“The sea is a very convenient way of getting rid of anybody who is unwanted.”

“I agree,” Craig said, “but I cannot believe that if Randall Sare was spotted three weeks ago he is still sitting in Monte Carlo.”

“I said he arrived three weeks ago,” the Marquis corrected, “and he was seen a week later. It was after that one of our men came back to tell me he was there, leaving two others to continue the chase, so to speak. They may of course have found him by this time, but if they have not, then I am praying that you will succeed where they have failed.”

Craig’s voice was rather cynical as he said,

“I fear you are being optimistic. Knowing Sare, the sort of places in which he might be hiding are not those I am expected to frequent when I am in Monte Carlo.”

“I am aware of that,” the Marquis said, “and that brings me to the second part of my mission.”

“What is that?”

“My informant who returned to tell me about Sare also told me that he is somewhat anxious about Lord Neasdon.”

“Do I know him?” Craig asked.

“I don’t think you have ever met him. He is a comparative newcomer to the Foreign Office and I thought it would be a great mistake for him to know that you and I have any connection with each other, except that we are somewhat distantly related.”

“Of course,” Craig murmured.

“He is quite an attractive man, about ten years older than yourself, and he has worked hard in the Diplomatic Service to reach the position he is now. Because my predecessor had known him for years and was very fond of him, he was put in line for being accepted here on the permanent staff while he was still serving his time in the Embassies of Europe.”

“I understand.”

“Neasdon is unmarried, although I do not need to tell you that he has had a great number of affaires de coeur with the beauties that are to be found at Marlborough House.”

The Marquis paused for a moment and, as Craig did not interrupt, he went on,

“Now I understand, there is a new woman in his life, and from all I have heard she may be dangerous.”

“Who is she?” Craig enquired.

“Her name,” the Marquis replied, “is the Countess Aloya Zladamir.”

“Russian, I presume?”

“I think so, although apparently nobody is quite certain. The Russians here to whom I have mentioned her name casually have never heard of her.”

“There are, I believe,” Craig said, “over two million Counts in Russia, so it would be impossible for anybody to be acquainted with all of them!”

The Marquis frowned.

“It only makes your task more difficult.”

“Then I am going to search not only for Sare but also for Aloya Zladamir?”

“Exactly!” the Marquis agreed. “I am well aware there may be nothing in Neasdon’s interest in her. At the same time the Russians are very clever with their spies and are determined to ferret out a great deal we have no wish for them to know. That especially is true of Tibet.”

“Do you think there is any link between Sare and the Countess?”

“None that I know of, but that is for you to find out,” the Marquis replied, “and I think it would be a mistake for me to give you an introduction to Neasdon. It might be too obvious.”

“I am sure there will be no difficulty in my getting to know him.”

“He has a great many friends in Monte Carlo who I am sure will be yours too. All I can beg you, Craig, is if you think that Neasdon looks like being indiscreet in any way to step in and prevent it.”

Craig raised his eyebrows and now there was a definite twinkle in his eyes and a twist to his lips as he asked,

“Are you really suggesting – ?”

“I am merely pointing out,” the Marquis said, “that if any woman had a choice, I am certain she would prefer a young American millionaire to a rather dull, none too wealthy English peer!”

Craig laughed.

“This time, my Lord, you really have thought out a melodramatic situation which is more suitable to Drury Lane than the Casino in Monte Carlo!

“I would not be too sure of that,” the Marquis said, “and, quite frankly, Craig, I am perturbed.”

“Why?”

“It was only in the last two days that I discovered that in mistaken zeal one of my subordinates informed Neasdon of our concern over Tibet, and that we have undercover agents who attempt to keep us informed of the Russian attitude in that far away, little known country.”

He paused before he went on,

“It seems almost too far-fetched to be anything but sheer melodrama, but if Randall Sare is being shadowed by the Russians and, if Neasdon inadvertently reveals to the delectable Countess what information we already have, the two combined would be explosive to the point where the work of years could be undone and a great many lives put in jeopardy.”

“I understand,” Craig said, his eyes twinkling, “and of course it would be a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the Countess.”

“They tell me she is very beautiful,” the Marquis said with a slight smile.

“Then that at least should make my task more pleasant. Is that all you have to tell me?”

The Marquis rose from his desk.

“I have here the names of our men in Monte Carlo, but as you know, it would be very unwise to contact them unless it is absolutely necessary. They should not know that you have any connection with us. In fact, I hope there is no one in Monte Carlo who will be aware of it.”

“That is how I prefer it, my Lord. If there is one thing I dislike, it is working with other people.”

“I know that and perhaps that is why you are so successful. At the same time be careful!”

Craig raised his eyebrows as he took the piece of paper from the Marquis’s hand.

“I don’t remember you ever saying that to me before.”

“I am saying it this time. I take the Russian menace very very seriously. I also believe they will stop at nothing to gain their objectives.”

“You mean India!”

“Yes. They have already shown us how ruthless they can be in Afghanistan and there is no doubt at all that the money, the weapons and the inciting of the tribesmen on the North West Frontier all originate from St. Petersburg.”

“You have most certainly given me an unusual and intriguing assignment this time,” Craig said. “I only hope I will not fail you.”

“You have never done so yet,” the Marquis replied, “and because of your unique position in the Social world, there is nobody else who could help me as you can at this particular moment. If you have anything to communicate to me, do it in the usual way. I am certain the code we have used before has not yet been broken.”

“I hope not!”

Craig put the piece of paper in his pocket and held out his hand.

“Thank you, my Lord, and I mean it! This is just what I needed at a moment when life in New York had become monotonous and, for the same reason, I do not wish to stay in London.”

“What you really mean,” the Marquis said, “is that your heart is unoccupied and that is exactly what I hoped it would be!”

Craig laughed.

“I am not even certain I have a heart, but shall I say my eyes find the landscape too familiar and pastures new would be a welcome change.”

The Marquis knew without his saying any more that Craig was really insinuating that he had finished with one love affair and the lady’s place in his life had not yet been filled.

He had heard too many women complaining that Craig Vandervelt was cruel, ruthless and heartless, not to know that he was always the one who was bored first, while the woman who had once engaged his attention was left weeping and bewailing her dismissal.

Because Craig’s affairs were always with sophisticated beauties that were safely married, there was no question of his being forced to the altar by an irate father, although occasionally a jealous husband would threaten to ‘call him out’.

But in some skilful manner of his own he had managed over the years to avoid any open scandal, though it was impossible to prevent his attractions being whispered about from boudoir to boudoir.

The Marquis having shaken his visitor by the hand, walked to the door and thought as he did so that he not only wished he was young again, but also regretted that when he was the same age as Craig he had let far too many opportunities pass him by.

Then he told himself that as a respectable married man those were not the sorts of thoughts he should be having!

Yet all over the world he was quite sure there were men like himself who were envious and jealous of Craig not only as a millionaire, but also as a man.

The door of the office opened and, as if Craig understood the importance of the object of the interview being kept a secret, he said in a voice that could be heard down the corridor,

“Well, goodbye, my Lord. Give my love to all our relatives and say how sorry I am not to see them this trip. Perhaps I will be able to drop in again before I return to New York.”

“Yes, do that,” the Marquis said affably. “Enjoy yourself in Monte Carlo and I hope you win at the tables.”

“I doubt it,” Craig laughed as he walked away. “But there are other things to entertain one there besides cards.”

There was an obvious innuendo in his voice and the gaiety with which he spoke brought a knowing smile to those who were near enough to hear what had been said.

Then Craig walked jauntily down the corridor to where his carriage was waiting for him in the street outside.

*

The next day Craig Vandervelt left Victoria on the boat train to Dover.

He travelled with a Courier, two valets, a secretary and an entire coach was engaged for him and his staff.

At Dover two cabins on the boat were reserved for him and his entourage and again there was a private coach reserved for him on the Calais-Mediterranean Express.

As was usual, his secretary provided him with every newspaper and magazine that was published and there was also a hamper consisting of his favourite drinks and several dishes prepared by his cousin’s chef at Newcastle House.

Craig sat alone thinking out what he had learned from the Marquis and finding the prospect in front of him intriguing and stimulating.

It was nearly a year since he had last undertaken a mission at the request of the Marquis and, although he had known it would be a great mistake to become involved again too soon in Foreign Affairs, and that it was wise that people should forget his existence in that sphere before he appeared again in a world that was very different from his own, he had begun to find that time lay heavy on his hand.

He was growing ever more cynical about the Society which welcomed him in London, Paris and New York.

He knew he owed his entrée into every Capital to his father’s wealth, but at the same time his cosmopolitan education ensured that the Social world opened their arms to him and considered him as one of them wherever he went.

Even the most disdainful French aristocrats offered him their hospitality, and although it might originate from the fact that the French respected the reality that his grandfather was a Duke, they soon found that his charm, his almost perfect knowledge of their language, and the fact that he was extremely proficient at their sports all combined to make him a real friend.

He was invited not only to balls and receptions in Paris, which were normally exclusively French, but also to go boar hunting, shooting and sailing with the young French aristocrats who usually preferred to bar outsiders from their pastimes.

Where women were concerned, the French were no different from the English or the Americans. They had only to see Craig to behave as if he was the Pied Piper, who must be followed.

Sometimes he told himself it was the golden coins that attracted them, but he would have been very obtuse if he had not realised that they also found him fascinating as a man – and unique as an ardent lover.