Free The Unbegotten by John Creasey Page A

hotel, whichever suits you.’
    â€˜Here would be fine,’ said Palfrey. ‘Thank you. Will some
    coffee and sandwiches suit you, Maddern?’
    â€˜Am I to be at this meeting?’ asked Maddern.
    â€˜I’d like you to be,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜Exactly what is the meeting about?’ asked Maddern.
    â€˜Heads of all the main council departments,’ said King, adding with that smile lurking in his eyes, ‘I’ll be there, too! I’ll fix those sandwiches and then leave you while I nip home for half an hour. My kids raise merry hell if I don’t see them before they go to bed.’
    â€˜You carry on,’ said Palfrey, and when the door closed he motioned Maddern to a chair. ‘Give me a few minutes to think,’ he pleaded, and sat back, looking, as if for inspiration, at the ceiling. When he began to speak it was as if he were talking to himself. ‘Maddern, to a man of your temperament I know that this affair must be exasperating and frustrating. And there is so much background which I simply can’t pass on to you. Already you have had some briefing, but it isn’t enough. Much depends on what you absorb from what you hear.’ His voice strengthened and he sat up. ‘Now I’m going to telephone my London headquarters,’ he went on. ‘If you listen in at that extension it will give you still more of the background.’ He leaned forward and put in a call to a Mayfair number, and after the operator, a woman with a very pleasant voice spoke.
    â€˜Hallo, Sap.’
    â€˜Hallo, Joyce,’ Palfrey responded, taking out a pencil and beginning to doodle. ‘Is there any news from Headquarters end?’
    â€˜Not a word,’ the woman answered.
    â€˜How many agents did we ask to check?’ asked Palfrey.
    â€˜Key agents in every city and rural district,’ answered Joyce. ‘Surely you remember.’
    â€˜Yes. Dr. Maddern is on the extension and I want him to know the basic facts,’ Palfrey said.
    â€˜You mean, he is to help us?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    The woman sounded faintly disapproving.
    â€˜Very well, if that’s what you want.’
    â€˜Perhaps I’d better introduce you,’ Palfrey said, smiling faintly. ‘Dr. Reginald Maddern, I am speaking to Miss Joyce Morgan, my personal assistant.’
    â€˜Miss Morgan,’ Maddern said, sounding slightly nettled.
    â€˜Good evening, Dr. Maddern.’ There was now no doubt at all that Joyce was disapproving; or at least, not even remotely enthusiastic. ‘Sap, we requested over eleven thousand agents throughout the world to report if the birthrate in any area appeared to be sharply or sensationally reduced, and so far not a single reply has come in.’
    â€˜So we’ve only a local problem, so far,’ remarked Palfrey.
    â€˜It looks like it,’ answered Joyce. ‘Are you all right?’
    â€˜Thanks to Dr. Maddern, I’m feeling fine!’ Palfrey appeared to be in a very good mood, and also determined to cheer Joyce up. ‘I’ve a meeting with the Clerk to the Middlecombe Rural District Council tonight. The Chief Engineer, the Medical Officer, the heads of the gas, water, electricity and highways departments will be here, with the Postmaster, the Chief of Police, the Secretary of the local hospital, the Housing Department manager, representatives of the Chamber of Trade, Rotary and other goodwill clubs and the headmasters of the State schools and the only sizeable private school in the area.’ Palfrey brought all these names out fluently, an impressive tribute to his memory. ‘Each of these has been briefed with the basic facts and asked to find out if they know of any possible contributary causes.’
    When Palfrey paused, Joyce said with a laugh in her voice, ‘That should be quite a meeting!’
    Palfrey was smiling when he rang off; so was Maddern.
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    Twenty-two men and three women were