Free Death Ray by Craig Simpson Page A

The overhead electric cables fizzed and sparked as trolley buses trundled past with their masked headlamps, painted windows and camouflaged roofs. I spotted couples strolling to and from the Pleasure Gardens that sliced through the town centre, ending down by the pier. Seagulls and pigeons circled and swooped frantically above our heads, squawking and fighting as if re-enacting the aerial dogfights of the previous summer. It was quite a bustle – just what we needed.
    ‘I’ll go right,’ said Loki, having glanced briefly at his map. ‘Come with me, Freya. Finn, you go left. Walk up past those shops and then wait for a couple of minutes. Look in the windows or something but keep us in sight. At the top, we’ll turn and head back. After we pass Renard’s apartment, you start moving. That’ll ensure someone keeps the entrance in view at all times. We’ll go back and forth, like pendulums swinging in opposite directions.’
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘But what’s the signal if one of us spots Renard?’
    ‘Take out your handkerchief and blow your nose.’
    For twenty minutes we played out our game. It seemed to work a treat. Nobody paid any attention to us. Sometimes I walked with a bit of a swagger, hands in pockets, coat unbuttoned. Other times I walked briskly, straight-backed, arms swinging, coat done up tightly. Yet we had a problem. It was getting dark. The shops were closing, the streets were growing quieter. We were beginning to look out of place. ‘What now?’ said Loki as we met up again. ‘Back to the Cadenza?’
    I glanced across the square and saw that the sign in the door of the café had been turned over – CLOSED – and blinds had been pulled down. ‘Not an option,’ I replied. I was rather glad about that.
    ‘Erm …’ As Loki spun round trying to come up with a new plan, the door of the Cadenza suddenly opened and the waiter stepped out. He shut it behind him, locked it, tightened the belt of his mackintosh and adjusted the brim of his hat. He walked a little way to his right and then dipped into another doorway. In the gloom I saw the flash of a lighter as he lit a cigarette.
    I had an idea. ‘Give me your paper, Loki,’ I said. ‘There’s a bench over there by the clock tower and a little light spilling out of the bus shelter. I’ll position myself there. You two huddle in that recess next to the department store.’
    ‘And do what, Finn?’ said Freya.
    ‘Improvise!’ I said.
    Loki grinned. ‘I like the sound of that.’
    So I took up my position on the bench and began to read while Loki held Freya in a lovers’ embrace in the shadows.
    Casually I turned the pages of my paper, peeking over the top of it; just brief glances, nothing too obvious. The best bit about my chosen vantage point was that by merely flicking my eyes from one side to the other, I could observe both Renard’s building and the waiter on the other side of the square. Slouching with his shoulder pressed against a wall, he kept his head deep in the shadows. Just as I got to the back page, a woman emerged from the entrance to the apartment block. She trotted out quickly and appeared in good spirits. She laughed, held out her arms and twirled on her high heels. Véronique! Renard tumbled out too. He seized her and they kissed. Laughing and waving they parted company, heading in opposite directions. I grabbed my handkerchief from my pocket, dropped my paper into my lap and pretended to sneeze – very loudly. Loki had spotted them too and nodded towards me over Freya’s shoulder. I got up, folded my newspaper under my arm, and was all set to follow the smartly dressed Nazi spy when I paused. Renard had walked a short distance, but then he stopped and removed a cigar from his coat pocket. While holding the bold three-inch flame of his lighter to the tip of his cigar, he peered over towards the far side of the square. Flicking my eyes to the right, I saw the waiter emerge, cast down the butt of his cigarette and, thrusting