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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
In the spy thriller 'A Secret Society' by Talbot Mundy, readers are transported into a world of intrigue, espionage, and secret societies. The book follows the protagonist as he navigates the dangerous world of intelligence agencies and uncovers a secret society with nefarious intentions. Mundy's literary style is gripping and immersive, keeping readers on the edge of their seats with unexpected twists and turns. Set in the early 20th century, the book reflects the political and social climate of the time, offering a unique perspective on espionage and power dynamics. Mundy's attention to detail and vivid descriptions bring the story to life, making it a must-read for fans of spy thrillers and historical fiction. Talbot Mundy, a British author and journalist, draws on his own experiences working as a newspaper correspondent in India to bring authenticity to his writing. His background in travel and exploration adds depth to the narrative, creating a rich tapestry of cultural insights and historical references. Mundy's passion for adventure and storytelling shines through in 'A Secret Society', making it a captivating read that offers both entertainment and intellectual stimulation. I highly recommend 'A Secret Society' to readers who enjoy fast-paced thrillers with a historical twist. Mundy's masterful storytelling and intricate plot will keep you engaged from the first page to the last, making it a thrilling literary journey through the world of espionage and intrigue.
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A Secret Society
(Spy Thriller)
Published by
Books
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I “See here, Jim, you quit the British army!”
D’you remember Mark Twain’s advice to read the Bible? It’s good. There’s one verse in particular in Genesis that quotes old Israel’s dying words.
He says to his son Joseph—
“Deal kindly and truly with me; bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt.”
To my mind that sums up Egypt perfectly.
No sensible man can blame the Israelites for wanting to get away. It charms you for a while, but leaves you wondering why; and there’s a sting in all of Egypt’s favors just as surely as there’s a scorpion or an adder underneath the first stone you turn, and a hidden trick in every bargain.
Like old Israel, I’d rather my carcass were disposed of almost anyhow than buried in Egypt’s finest mausoleum. But it isn’t bad fun all the same to sit on the big front veranda of Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo and watch the world go by. Sooner or later all trails cross at Cairo. It’s a sort of adventurers’ Clapham Junction.
James Schuyler Grim, Jeremy Ross, and Narayan Singh were with me in 1920, and Cairo was complaining bitterly that she hadn’t a tourist to rob. All of us except Narayan Singh sat at a little table in the corner of Shepheard’s Hotel veranda, with Jeremy bubbling jokes at intervals and none of us knowing what would happen next.
My friend Narayan Singh had borrowed a five-pound note from me and broken his rule of only getting drunk once in three months. His periodical debauch wasn’t due for six or eight weeks—which was why I had dared to lend him money—but we had found his bedroom empty that morning of everything except an equally empty whisky bottle. He had even put the furniture out of the window, possessed by some distorted notion of getting even with the world for old wrongs, and we neither knew what had become of him, nor dared inquire.
He might be standing stark naked on top of the Pyramid, delivering a lecture on Swadeshi to the kites. Or he might be trying to invade a harem, proclaiming himself the deliverer of lost princesses. Basing conjecture solely on past occurrences, he was possibly at that minute storming the house of the High Commissioner, flourishing sheets of scribbled paper, wearing no trousers; and demanding to be washed in wine. He was certainly being bold, probably prayerful, and perhaps using scandalous language; but subject to those provisos there was no limit to what he might be doing.
The one sure thing was that we were his friends and would hear of it, if he should fall foul of the authorities. And the one best bet was not to call official attention to ourselves or him meanwhile. We weren’t going to leave Narayan Singh in the lurch, for he was a man and a brother who had risked his neck with us; but we should have been idiots to go about asking for him at the moment. So we sat still and refused to worry, while Jeremy exploded jokes until he suddenly grew deadly serious and turned his fire on Grim.
“See here, Jim,” he said, tossing his head to get the chestnut hair out of his eyes. “You quit the British Army!”
“Why?” demanded Grim, looking calmly at him, unastonished.
You never are astonished at anything Jeremy says or does, once you’ve known him for a few days.
“I’ll tell you why. I know the British Army. They’ll serve you the same they served us Anzacs every time after a war was won—kick you and tell you to go to Hell. Got any money? No! Got a profession? No! Can you write signs—shear sheep—shave lumbermen—sell canned goods—cook for a fourpenny buster outfit? Those are the chaps who don’t have to worry when the job slips out from under them. Can you splice wire rope, or ballyhoo the greenhorns outside a one-ring circus in a bush town? No! And you’ll starve, when the British Army’s through with you! There you sit, waiting for a red-necked swab with gold lace on his collar and the rim of a monocle eating the skin of his nose to tell you you’re fired!”
Grim laughed.
“D’you think it’s as bad as that, Jeremy?”
“It’s worse! I’ve seen your sort—sacked from the army to cover a bad break made by some sore-bags in an armchair. They come to Australia in shoals. Sydney and Melbourne are lousy with them. Most of ‘em would suicide if they weren’t too proud to steal a gun. They end by joining the Salvation Army and calling with a can from house to house for swill and spud-peel! You grin—good lord! With that in front of you!”
“Don’t you think I could land a job out here as interpreter or something?” Grim suggested pleasantly.
“You’ve a better chance of a contract to serve ice-cream in Hell! You one- track Yankee visionary! You’re so dead set on cleaning up Arabia that you can’t see daylight for the dust you’ve made. For the love of luck, think a minute. Will they fire you for knowing too much, and let you stay here in the country? Golly! I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen. The French Ambassador will tell the King of England to roll his hoop, and the Prince o’ Wales will be sent to deputize. He’ll apologize for your having saved the French from doing worse dirt than they did to Feisul; and Downing Street will be so bull-angry at having to know of your existence that they’ll grease the cables and suspend all other business until you’re cashiered in disgrace. You’ll be kicked through your headstall, they’ll be in such a hurry! It’ll be: ‘Out o’ the country quick! No recommendation. No pension. Your back pay held up for a year in case of possible claims against you. Watch your step on the way out, and don’t ever let us see your face again!’ The U.S. consul will refuse to ship you to the States because you aren’t a distressed seaman. The British won’t ship you anywhere because you’re not British. And in the end you’ll have to do exactly what you might do now, if you’d listen to sense!”
“Sing on, Cassandra!” Grim laughed.
“Who the Hell’s Cassandra?” demanded Jeremy.
“A lady in ancient Troy, who got out the Evening News.”
“Well, I’m no lady. Jim, you fire the British Empire before it fires you! Write out your resignation and file it, with compliments, before the French Ambassador has time to ring the front-door bell at Windsor Castle! If they ask you what for, tell ‘em the War’s over; maybe they don’t know it!”
“I’d still be out of a job,” Grim suggested.
“Join Ramsden and me. Grim, Ramsden, and Ross. Thirty-three and a third per cent. apiece of kicks as well as ha’pence. We’ll take along Narayan Singh as office murderer. What do you say?”
Grim cocked one bushy eyebrow.
“I’ve got no money, so I can’t buy into your firm, old scout. That’s all about it.”
Jeremy thrust out his jaw, and drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ve a draft for two thousand pounds in my pocket, and I don’t know how much in the bank in Sydney. Haven’t been home for five years and the bank may have busted, but I guess not. Rammy here’s been saving two thirds of his income ever since pa died. Never mind what Rammy says at the moment, he’ll put in two pounds to my one; take my word for it. We’ll make you senior partner, Jim, ‘cause you’re the one who’ll get the worst of it if we lose out, so you’ll be cautious. Rammy can do the hard work; I’ll think up ideas. I know millions of ways of making money.”
That was the first I had heard of any such partnership, but I made no comment, for a man had come up the front steps whom I hadn’t seen for years, but whom I have crossed two oceans more than once to have a talk with—a man of about my own size but twenty years older, upstanding and hale, without a gray hair on his head, although carrying rather more stomach than I would care to tote around. He saw me, smiled, and nodded, but turned to the left, choosing a table at the other end of the veranda, where he buried himself at once behind a newspaper.
“Wake up, Rammy!” said Jeremy, kicking my shin under the table. “Tell him you’ll kill him if he don’t come in with us! Tell him it’s true that you’ve got capital. Go on!”
“It’s true that I’ve saved something,” I answered. “But a man’s a fool who risks his savings. I’d like a partnership with you and Grim, if you’ve a prospect; but we ought to be able to work it without staking both capital and energy. There are lots of men with capital.”
“Not in Egypt,” said Jeremy. “All they’ll buy here is manicure sets and big expensive cars. We’re selling guts and gumption. We’d find ten Gyppies in five minutes to stake money for a crooked deal, but—”
“Suppose you argue a while with Grim,” I answered. “I’ll go talk with Meldrum Strange.”
“Who the Hell’s Meldrum?”
“One of the nine richest men in the world. I made a million for him once. Wherever Meldrum Strange is, something’s doing. He’s on the level, but a durned hard nut.”
“Go crack him!” answered Jeremy. “I’ll stay here and comb Jim out of the army like a louse out of a dog’s hair. So long.”
CHAPTER II “We three now haven’t a parasite between us.”
I sat down beside Meldrum Strange without saying anything and it wasn’t until the chair creaked under my weight that he laid the newspaper down.
“Oh, hello,” he said then.
“Hello yourself,” said I. “How’s business?”
“I’ve gone out of business.”
I looked hard at him and he at me. He was good to look at, with a face carved out of granite and a neat black beard. There was a suggestion of Ulysses Grant, with the same look of good humor balancing an iron will.
“I’ve come all the way from the States to see you,” he said.
“Nothing else?”
“Just that,” he answered, biting the end of a dark cigar.
“I don’t believe you,” I answered, “but I’ll smoke while you elaborate the fiction.”
“You’re going out of business too,” he said, passing me his leather case.
“I did that during the first year of the War,” I answered. “Cleaned up in Abyssinia and quit for keeps.”
“Uh. Who was behind that Abyssinian thing? You put it up to me. Cohn and Campbell fell, didn’t they? Make anything?”
“Three times what they put in.”
“Uh. What did you get?”
“Enough,” I answered.
He nodded and began chewing his cigar.
“Well,” he said presently, “I heard you were wandering in these parts. Tried to reach you by cable, but you’d left no address.”
“Any banker out here would have delivered a message sooner or later,” I answered, puzzled. I’m not used to being in such demand.
“I daresay. Nothing to keep me in Chicago. Came to look for you—P & O from Marseilles. Saw your name on the hotel register.”
“Did you ask for me?”
“No. No hurry. Met some people. Up at Government House. Seems you’ve been trying your hand at international politics?”
“I’ve a friend who was interested. Helped him,” I said.
“Did you like it?” he asked suddenly, looking sharply at me.
“You bet! We spiked a crooked game and pulled a good man out of a tight place.”
“I’m in that game nowadays,” he said.
He took hold of his chin in his left hand and eyed me steadily.
“Can you afford to be independent?”
I nodded.
“Got enough, eh? Good. Couldn’t use a man who thought he needed money badly.”
“What’s eating you?” I asked. “The only time I handled your dollars you had me bonded.”
“Couldn’t get a bond to cover this. Need a man used to acting on his own responsibility, not given to talking—be depended on to keep important secrets—act coolly in emergency—knows the world in the widest sense—willing to have no other ambition than to unknot the international snarls. You’ll fill the bill.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “My gifts are mechanical. You need a man with brains for a job like that. James Schuyler Grim is the man for you.”
“Ah. Now let me see; they mentioned Grim—Major Grim, isn’t he? American? Um-m-m. What do you know of him?”
“How d’you rate my opinion?”
“Ace-high, or I wouldn’t have gone to this trouble to find you.”
“I rate Grim ace-high plus, or I wouldn’t have gone to Damascus with him on any such risky business,” I answered.
“What else can you say for him?”
“The British Government thought highly enough of him to keep him in their Intelligence Department, while they were retrenching in every direction.”
“Expects the sack now, does he?”
“Jeremy is trying to persuade him to resign.”
“Who’s Jeremy?”
“Jeremy Ross—Australian. Knows Arabic as well as Grim does. Kidnaped in the War and carried off into the heart of Arabia. Made good. Escaped—gathered a following—led them the whole length of Arabia—discovered a gold-mine—worked it—dollied out more than two thousand pounds—made himself a power in the land—and was finally rescued by Grim and me with the help of Narayan Singh and some Arabs. Made a present of his mine to Feisul the other day, as a private contribution to the Arab cause.”
“Um-m-m. Mine any good?”
“Best I ever saw.”
“Gave it to the Arabs, eh? Who’s Narayan Singh?”
“Sikh. Friend of Grim’s. Sepoy in the British Army. On a bat just now—discouraged.”
“Broke?”
“Not while I’ve a nickel left.”
“How long have you been acting banker to broken men?” Meldrum Strange demanded, looking at me curiously.
“Nothing to it,” I answered. “But I’ll back a good man when he’s down the same way you helped the market in the 1907 panic. Maybe it’ll pay me, same as buying stocks paid you. If it don’t I’ll take my loss, and you won’t be any the wiser, Meldrum Strange.”
“Extraordinary!” he said. “Most extraordinary! World full of coincidences. Time was I’d have doubted this. Looks too good.”
“Same here,” I said. “Few things fit without blacksmith-work and blasting. Study this right carefully before you submit proposals. We’d hate to let you down.”
” ‘We?’ ” he asked.
“All or none,” I said. “When you showed up we were just beginning to talk partnership.”
“Those your two friends opposite?”
He sat and looked at them for several minutes.
“The one with his back turned is Ross, I take it, and the other Grim?” he said at last. “You vouch for both of them, eh? I’m inclined to think you may be right.”
He sat for five more minutes saying nothing, chewing steadily at the stump of his cigar, and every now and then casting a sidewise glance at me. At last he threw away the cigar with a gesture that meant he had made his mind up.
“Anyhow,” he said, “men like you are scarce. It’s like looking for a dime and finding a dollar bill. Bring ‘em over here!”
I caught Grim’s eye; and he and Jeremy strolled over, laughing at one of Jeremy’s jokes. I introduced them and they sat down.
“You the old robber who cornered platinum?” asked Jeremy.
“In my youth I was guilty of that,” Strange answered dryly.
“Hah! My old dad bought International Platinum stock at bottom on margin, and followed you all the way up! He invested the proceeds in a sheep station. My regards!” said Jeremy, with a wave of the hand that signified a lot of things. “You big whales all have barnacles on your belly. We three now haven’t got a parasite between us.”
“Isn’t there a drunken Sikh?” Strange answered.
“There’s a Sikh who happens to be drunk,” said Jeremy. “If you want to see some fun, old top, come with us. Grim can tell you. Grim’s had to tidy up after him half-a-dozen times.”
Grim volunteered no information. All he knew yet was that Meldrum Strange was a multimillionaire with a reputation for titanic thoroughness.
“Came to make Ramsden a business offer,” said Strange abruptly. “He tells me you three are inseparable.”
“Agreed five minutes ago,” smiled Jeremy, with the air of a man raking in a jack-pot. “We’re Grim, Ramsden, and Ross.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Strange.
“Oh, anything. The world’s full of things to do,” said Jeremy. “What d’you want? We’re charter members of the Jack-of-all-trades Union. Exploring expeditions fixed up while you wait. Kings dethroned and national boundaries rearranged to order. Mines discovered, opened up, and worked. Revolutions produced or prevented. Horses swapped. Teeth pulled by the piece or dozen. Everything contracted for, from flaying whales to raising potatoes on Mount Everest, wholesale jobs preferred. All you’ve got to do is name your requirements, write your check, and sign your contract on the dotted line. We do the rest. Shoot, old top; we’re listening.”
Strange glanced at me. He looked over at Grim, with no more result. Having agreed to be Jeremy’s partners, there was nothing further for us to say in his behalf; and Strange saw the obvious logic of that after a minute.
“You didn’t mention keeping secrets in your list of offerings,” he said, holding out his cigar case.
Jeremy took one, balanced it on the end of one finger, tossed it, caught it between his teeth, apparently swallowed it whole, and handed the case back.
“Count ‘em,” was all he said.
There was the same number of cigars in the case as before, but one of them bore teeth-marks. Strange pulled it out, examined it, and tossed it with a laugh to Jeremy, who caught it, spun it point-downward on the table like a top, and while it still spun brought down the flat of his hand on it as if driving a nail into the wood. He removed his hand instantly, showing it empty. The cigar had disappeared, but a second later he produced it undamaged from his mouth with the other hand. It was superbly done, like all his tricks.
“Do you know how to do that?” he asked.
“No,” said Strange.
“I know you don’t. I’ve kept that secret twenty years. Show you another.”
“No,” Strange answered. “I get the drift of your genius. Major Grim, I understand you’re senior partner of this unusual firm.”
“We’re ready to listen to your proposal,” said Grim.
“Can I depend on your silence if you shouldn’t like the offer after I’ve made it?”
“I’ve kept Government secrets for a number of years,” Grim answered. “Depend on all three of us absolutely.”
“Suppose you all come to my room.”
“Here’s the best place,” Grim answered. “We can see all ways, and can’t be overheard.”
So, as happens I daresay oftener than folk suspect, a secret that had never yet passed the lips of its first guardian was trotted out, not within four walls, but in full view of the street.
“I’ll begin at the beginning,” said Strange, biting on a new cigar. “I’m an egoist. Nothing matters to a man but what he does. Not what he gets, but what he does. That’s my religion, and the whole of it. I’ve amassed an enormous fortune. Never had partners. I regard my fortune as the product of my own use of natural gifts in compliance with universal laws. I never consciously broke a written law accumulating it, but I’ve often done things that experience has since taught me are not in the general interest, and I believe that what I do in the general interest is the only thing that counts as far as I’m concerned. I’m face to face with a fact, a question, and a condition. I have the fortune. What am I going to do with it? No good comes of doing things for people. That’s the problem. What shall I do? It’s up to me to use my money in the general interest.”
“Why worry? Pay off a part of your national debt, and go to sleep,” suggested Jeremy.
“Huh! I’d lie awake to curse myself if I wasted a nickel in that way,” Strange retorted. “Our government would simply buy an extra battleship. If we all refused to pay for war there would be none. I’ve finished paying for it.”
“Oh, are you one of those men without a country?” asked Jeremy blandly. “One red flag for all of us, and a world doing lockstep in time to the Internationale.”
Strange liked that. The question threw light on Jeremy’s own view-point. He laughed—just one gruff bark like a watchdog’s.
“The man who doesn’t put his country first might as well neglect his own body and expect to do business,” he answered. “On the other hand, a state is composed of individuals, of whom I’m one, with an opinion. I obey the laws. There’s not even wine in my cellar. But I make use of every opening the law allows to escape paying for armaments that I don’t approve of. I lose income by it, because the tax-exempt securities come high; but that loss is part of my contribution to the general interest. That’s what I, personally, do in that particular instance, and intend to keep on doing.”
“Do you propose to start a society or hire us to preach?” Jeremy suggested.
“I belong to no societies. I’m an individualist, believing that what I do is my concern, and what other folk do is their concern, subject to the law as it stands on the statute books. Charity leaves me unconvinced. I don’t care to endow colleges. I paid the men who taught me what I wanted to know, with money that I earned.”
“Well? Where are we getting to?” demanded Grim.
“To this: I made my money all over the world. I propose to use it all over the world. Nobody can fool me with a bald statement that peoples are self- governing. They should be, but they’re not given a chance to be. They’re herded up in mobs, blarneyed, coaxed, cheated, and made fools of; and because some of them have free institutions, they’re blamed for the result, while the real culprits get away with the plunder. I’m after the real culprits. I want you men to join me.”
Grim whistled. So did Jeremy. So did I. Three notes of a rising scale.
“D’you suppose you’ve any right to take that on yourself?” asked Jeremy.
“As much right as any reformer has, and more,” Strange answered, “for I intend to pay my own expenses! I’ll make it my business to fall foul of these international crooks, who are laughing behind the scenes at the world’s misery. My business is to seek those swine out, force an issue—a personal issue, mind—and swat them!”
“You want to be a sort of international police?” suggested Grim.
“I do not. An international police would be answerable to an international government, and there is none. These devils I’m after obey no government. Governments are tricked by them into furthering their designs. Governments are made up of individuals, each of whom can be worked, persuaded, bribed, blackmailed or deceived at some time in some way. The rascals I’m after play with kings and cabinets like pieces on a chess-board. They play crooked boss with the whole world for a stage, and they’re safe because they’ve only got to deal with the representatives of majorities. They’re persons, dealing with impersonal ministries. I’m going to make it a personal issue with them in every instance. But I have to work in secret, or I’ll last about a minute and a half. That’s how you three men happen to be the first who ever heard a word from me on a subject that I’ve been pondering for five-and-twenty years.”
“Strange, old boy,” said Jeremy. “You altruists are all plausible; and you all turn out in the end to be feathering your own nests.”
“My impression of you is that you’re honest,” Strange answered.
“Honest? You don’t know me,” laughed Jeremy. “I posed as a prophet of Islam in an Arab village. They used to pay me to make the dead talk from their tombs, and I charged ‘em so much extra for every ten years the corpse had been dead and buried. Sure I’m honest.”
“You keep good company,” Strange answered. “How about you, Ramsden? Are you interested?”
