Shadow of Doom by John Creasey

believing that Stefan’s strength might help them to save the man, but help had come too late.
    It was better, Palfrey thought, to let them get the incident out of their systems in the way they thought best.
    Stefan, who rarely smoked, rolled a cigarette between his fingers, and murmured: ‘You think perhaps Dias inspired that mob?’
    â€˜He might have done,’ said Palfrey. ‘I was on the list, and he’s tried to kill me. I know it’s guesswork. I won’t even say that I think it’s likely, but it is possible.’
    â€˜And leads us where?’ asked Stefan.
    â€˜Nowhere. That’s the devil of it.’ Palfrey lit a cigarette and moodily watched the smoke. ‘If all of us in the book were concerned with food or food distribution I would be inclined to say that we knew what Dias was really doing. But von Kriess isn’t connected with food.’
    â€˜What about the others?’ asked Stefan.
    â€˜One is Jacques Midaut, of Antwerp,’ said Palfrey. ‘A shipowner, and owner of some of the Antwerp docks. The other is Kurt Knudsen, a Stockholm fishing-fleet owner. I think we’d better wait for more developments. Before going to Rotterdam, you and I had better go to Antwerp. That’ll be the only change in plans, so far—unless we get news of Dias.’
    â€˜I think you are wise,’ said Stefan. ‘Will you leave a message for Charles Lumsden?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Palfrey, and his eyes brightened; they aways brightened when he saw Drusilla.
    She walked towards them slowly, dressed in the green suit, eyed surreptitiously by many men. Palfrey stood up and pushed a chair forward. A waiter came at once; waiters rarely kept Drusilla waiting for long.
    They were drinking coffee, and Palfrey was looking towards the dining-room, now nearly empty, when a voice spoke from behind him.
    â€˜Hallo, Palfrey!’
    Palfrey swung round.
    â€˜Charles!’ said Drusilla, in surprise.
    Stefan got up quickly, towering over Charles Lumsden.
    The young Englishman was beaming, highly pleased with himself. He showed few traces of his London misadventure. Two small pieces of sticking plaster, one on his temple and the other on his cheek, and an eye which was slightly swollen, were all that remained.
    His eyes widened when Palfrey introduced Stefan.
    â€˜I was afraid you’d move on without me,’ he said, ‘and decided to come ahead of time. I hope it’s all right,’ he added, rather anxiously.
    Â 

Chapter Thirteen
More Evidence of Unrest
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    The aircraft touched down before midday. Palfrey’s first impression was of efficiency and contentment. The airport officials and stewards were friendly, there was no noticeable shortage of taxis, the lunch at the restaurant was excellent. Aircraft were landing or taking off every few minutes; the atmosphere of hustle inseparable from a large aerodrome seemed more pronounced here. It had an exhilarating effect on Palfrey and Drusilla, but Charles had lost much of his ebullience. Stefan regarded everything and everyone with serene calm, and always had a reassuring influence on them all. It was very seldom that he showed any sign of losing his temper.
    â€˜This seems better,’ Drusilla said.
    â€˜Much,’ agreed Palfrey.
    â€˜We have not yet seen Antwerp,’ said Stefan. ‘But perhaps we are suffering from the gloom which followed our comparative failures—Paris was, perhaps, not so bad as we imagined.’
    Charles snapped: ‘Were there food riots, or weren’t there?’
    â€˜I have seen many worse,’ said Stefan. ‘Are we going straight to an hotel, Sap?’
    â€˜I think so,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜I’d certainly like to,’ said Drusilla.
    Erikson had given them the name of a small hotel near the docks, which he said was central and extremely good. Their taxi-driver said at once that he knew it. He was a quiet man, and Palfrey