by T E Kinsey
‘You’re quite welcome,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘So, what’s next?’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I was worried you might ask that. Now, I know how much you’ve enjoyed yourselves today, and I know you’re all champing at the bit to get on and help, but I must ask you just to sit tight now and let me and my colleagues on the Force do some ordinary policing. This gang is a good deal more organized and ruthless than I think anyone has given them credit for. Don’t forget they’ve already killed one man for getting too close. I’ve got enough information to be able to mount a proper police operation now, so just bask in the glory of your achievement.’
There was the briefest moment of absolute silence before Lady Bickle and Dinah Caudle both started remonstrating with the inspector in the most strident tones. Lady Hardcastle let them vent just a little steam before she brought the meeting to order once more.
‘I’m sure,’ she said quietly and calmly, ‘that we can find ourselves something useful to do, police operation or not.’ Her glance told the inspector not to interrupt. ‘Don’t forget that our mission is, and has always been, to free Lizzie Worrel. Saving a few pounds’ worth of gold from being stolen by one group of robbers while it’s on its way from a second group of robbers to a third is all terribly exciting, but it’s not what we’re here for. And don’t try to persuade me that businessmen aren’t just robbers in expensive suits, I simply shan’t listen.’
The two ladies mumbled mutinously like school children after a telling off.
‘Inspector. Do you think you could solve our problem for us by arranging an official search of Beattie Challenger’s flat? If you could arrest her, it might also put a spanner in the works for the gold robbery.’
‘And that’s exactly why I’m unwilling to do so,’ he said. ‘For the first time in weeks, I find myself a step ahead of the gold thieves. If I force them into a position where they’re having to implement contingency plans – or, worse, improvise – then I lose my advantage. I’m afraid my interests are best served by letting things play out in the way we predict and nabbing them all in one go.’
‘Then there’s nothing for it but for us all to have a drink before dinner,’ said Lady Bickle. ‘Dinner is at seven so we’ve time for a livener before Ben gets home from work.’
There was nothing much any of us could do but agree.
Chapter Seventeen
We made a great show of heeding Inspector Sunderland’s instructions to sit tight and let the police take care of the robbers. When we parted after dinner on Thursday night, we had all reassured him that we had absolutely no intention of going anywhere near the docks nor anyone whom we knew to be involved in the plot.
And we all went quietly about our business on Friday. Lady Hardcastle and I, for instance, undertook a little bit of shopping – a few sundries here and there about town.
It was on Saturday that things began to deviate from the inspector’s orders. There was a strategy meeting at Lady Bickle’s house, led by Lady Hardcastle, where we four ladies fomented our plans for disobedience.
‘I know I said I was opposed to the idea of our trying to thwart the robbery on our own,’ said Lady Hardcastle once we had all agreed a course of action for Monday morning, ‘but there’ll be dozens of policemen there so we shan’t be on our own. And I, for one, don’t want to miss out on the excitement – not after we put in all the hard work on the boring stuff.’
We gave Lady Bickle and Miss Caudle a package each from Friday’s shopping trip and agreed to meet at Berkeley Crescent at six o’clock on Monday morning.
We spent Sunday doing Sunday things (that is to say, nothing very much at all) and rose abominably early on Monday to drive to Clifton in the dark.
With only the housemaid actually up and working at Berkeley Crescent, Lady Bickle herself let us in and we trooped into the drawing room to wait for Miss Caudle. When she arrived, we spent an entertaining quarter of an hour changing our clothes and readying ourselves for the day ahead.
In order that we might move around the docks relatively unnoticed, Lady Hardcastle and I had made a note of everyone’s measurements and had bought some essential clothing from various shops in Bristol. We had four sets of workman’s overalls, four pairs of heavy work boots, four heavy sack coats, and four workman’s caps of various styles. Once we were suitably attired, my job – as the only one who actually knew what she was doing – was to secure the other ladies’ hair so that it could be concealed in the saggy caps. My own hair was stuffed into my cap more or less competently by Miss Caudle.
‘There,’ said Lady Hardcastle once we were done. ‘I think we’ll pass muster. From a distance, at least.’
‘As long as nobody sees us all tumbling out of Lady B’s Rolls,’ said Miss Caudle. ‘Not many dock workers travel to work in a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost.’
‘I’ll be driving, actually,’ said Lady Bickle.
‘Oh, well, that makes all the difference. Perhaps you won it in a pub raffle?’
Lady Bickle stuck her tongue out.
‘We’ll be parking out of sight in the trees and walking the last mile or so,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No one will see the Rolls.’
‘A mile in new boots?’ said Miss Caudle. ‘You’re braver than I gave you credit for.’
‘It’ll be more than that once we’re done. I don’t actually know where the ship will be docking or where the Customs shed is. To be honest, I don’t even know if the ship arrived last night as it was supposed to.’
‘Last night?’ said Lady Bickle. ‘Everyone’s been saying it would arrive today.’
‘It will dock today,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘but it has to wait for the tide. If everything went well for them, they’ll have arrived during the night and anchored in the middle of the estuary. At high tide, they’ll be able to approach the docks.’
‘And when is high tide today?’ asked Miss Caudle.
‘Shortly before midday.’
‘Then we’d better get a move on if we’re going to scout the place out and be in position to watch the fun at midday,’ said Lady Bickle.
Continuing the topsy-turvy theme of the day, the Ladies Bickle and Hardcastle sat in the front of the Rolls-Royce, in the open seats, while Miss Caudle and I relaxed in the comparative warmth and comfort of the enclosed back seats. We were aware of some bickering in the front, accompanied by a certain amount of pointing and gesticulating, but for the most part the journey was calm and peaceful.
We passed the village of Shirehampton and then headed away from the docks towards a wooded area nearby. Here, as promised, we parked the motor car, partly concealed by a stand of trees. We continued our journey on foot.
We seemed to have arrived during the middle of a shift and there were very few men walking about. Our first stop was at the small group of cottages where Lady Hardcastle and I had watched the cab driver as he had delivered the packages. As before, there was no sign of life in the two boarded-up cottages, and we approached the third with caution.
‘Who wants to take a peek inside?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
Lady Bickle and Miss Caudle put their hands up like eager school children.
‘Flo, can you do the honours?’ she said.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘This way, ladies. Be quiet, and stay clear of the windows until I say it’s all right. If anyone challenges us, get behind me and make a run for it – I’ll fend them off.’
‘What with?’ asked Miss Caudle.
‘I shall reason with them,’ I said.
‘No fisticuffs?’ said Lady Bickle, sounding a little disappointed.
‘Of course, my lady. When reason fails, a swift kick in the trousers can be very persuasive.’
‘I don’t think you should be calling me “my lady” while we’re in disguise. I think my character is more of a Bill.’
I rolled my eyes but said nothing. Miss Caudle failed to suppress a snigger.
I approached the cottage as naturally and nonchalantly as was possible wit
h the two would-be spies tiptoeing along behind me like pantomime villains. I glanced back and saw Lady Hardcastle laughing. She waved me on.
Following my own injunction to stay clear of the windows, I ducked down and went around to the rear of the cottage, where my companions’ comically inept attempts to be inconspicuous would raise fewer suspicions. And less mocking laughter.
I stopped under what I assumed to be the kitchen window and eased myself slowly up so that I could look inside. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a face looking impassively back at me, and then rolled my eyes again and tutted when I realized that it was Inspector Sunderland.
I stood up and beckoned the others to do the same. He emerged from the cottage’s back door.
‘What are you shower of idiots doing here?’ he asked. ‘Were my instructions to keep well away not clear enough?’
Lady Bickle and Miss Caudle began speaking at once. While he tried to get them to shush, I walked round to the front of the cottage to signal to Lady Hardcastle that she should join us.
‘Good morning, Inspector,’ she said as she approached. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘Fancy,’ he said. ‘I gather from your companions that you’re all here on some sort of jolly outing.’
‘Oh, well, you know how it is,’ she said blithely. ‘We couldn’t just sit on our hands when there was fun to be had down by the sea.’
‘Down by the estuary,’ he said. ‘And yes, you could. You were explicitly instructed to, after all.’
‘We weren’t going to get in the way – we knew you and your colleagues would have everything in hand. But how often does one get to witness the thwarting of a quarter of a million pound gold theft? We were going to observe from a safe distance.’
‘You could have ruined everything – given the game away,’ he said.
‘But we haven’t, have we? No one would ever guess the place was crawling with rozzers. You’ve a very good team.’
‘They’re invisible, all right,’ he said. ‘But not for the reason you think. You can’t see my men because they’re all back at Bristol going about their regular duties.’
‘What?’ we all said together.
‘I was told that no one could be spared “on the word of a handful of busybodies” and that I should concentrate on catching real villains instead of wasting my time on “imaginary conspiracies”.’
‘And yet here you are,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘And here you are, too,’ he said. ‘I’m damned glad to see you, if truth be told.’
‘How can we help?’ asked Lady Bickle.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘What I meant was that I’m glad Lady Hardcastle and Miss Armstrong are here. It’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, as well, but these two have skills I can use.’
‘Oh, pish and blancmange!’ said Lady Bickle. ‘Miss Caudle and I have perfectly serviceable eyes – we can observe as well as any specially trained former agents of the Crown. No offence, dear. And, look – we’re all dressed up and nowhere to go.’
The inspector thought for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Come inside and I’ll tell you what I have in mind.’
‘Won’t they be back?’ asked Miss Caudle.
‘No, they’re long gone. They cleared out first thing and they’ll not be hanging around to be noticed once the job’s done.’
We followed him into the deserted cottage. Stansbridge’s men were good. Although we knew that at least two of them had been using the place as a hideout, there was absolutely no sign that anyone had been there for years.
‘At first light,’ began the inspector, ‘our old friend James Stansbridge—’
‘The Dishonourable Jimmy,’ interrupted Lady Bickle.
‘Even he,’ said the inspector. ‘—arrived on a brewer’s dray with a huge crate on the back. The two men who had been holed up in here for the past few days came out to help, and between them they rolled this crate down a pair of planks and on to the road. It was already on a trolley, and from the fuss they made, it was extremely heavy.’
‘About seven hundredweight?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘That would be my guess,’ he said. ‘The wagon left, and all three men came in here. When they reemerged, they were dressed as Customs men. They hauled the trolley off and I’ve not seen them since. I didn’t want to risk being seen following them, but I’ve a fair idea where they went.’
‘To the Customs shed, presumably,’ said Miss Caudle.
‘Where I imagine the palms of the real Customs men have been generously greased to induce them to turn a blind eye to these strangers, and possibly to disappear at the appointed hour. By the time they work out that they’ve become part of the biggest gold robbery of the year, they’ll be too afraid to say anything.’
‘So what do you need us to do?’ I asked.
‘The Chilean ship arrived at about three o’clock this morning and is anchored in deep water in the middle of the estuary. Because of its special cargo, it’s due to dock at the berth nearest the Customs shed in a couple of hours, as soon as the tide is high enough. I’d like us to be stationed around the shed as discreetly as possible so that we can keep an eye on exactly what happens. If we can spot how they switch the loot and what they do with it, perhaps I can finally get someone to take all this seriously enough to mount a proper raid.’
He went on to tell us exactly what he had in mind.
The Customs shed formed a gateway between the quays on one side of the sturdy chain-link fence, and England on the other. It was possible to access the various bonded warehouses from the quayside without passing through Customs, but anything that was to be directly imported had to pass through the shed, where it would be inspected.
The Chilean ship was being nudged against the dock by a tug on the seaward side of the fence, and sailors were readying themselves to make her fast with hawsers as thick as a man’s leg. Meanwhile, a wagon was being nudged into place by a shunting engine on the railway tracks that ran up to a platform beside the shed on the landward side.
On the inspector’s instructions, we had split into two groups, each with its own highly trained former spy. I accompanied Inspector Sunderland and Dinah Caudle as we took up position near the railway wagon. Lady Hardcastle was responsible for the safety of Lady Bickle as they crossed the tracks to lurk on the other side. Between us, we should be able to see everything that went into and came out of the Customs shed.
Once the wagon was in place, a group of eight men in dark-grey military-style tunics arrived and took up position on and around it. They were variously armed with rifles, pistols, and even one sawn-off shotgun. These were the guards hired by the engineering firms to protect their payment.
The unloading of the ship began almost immediately, and the first item of cargo to be lifted clear of the deck by one of the massive electric cranes was a pallet holding just eight smallish wooden boxes. It was swung across on to a waiting trolley, where it was immediately surrounded by six soldiers who had hurried down the gangplank to meet it. Two dock workers hauled the trolley into the shed, where it, and its armed escort, disappeared from view. Meanwhile, a small railway engine was coupled to the waiting wagon.
‘Well,’ said the inspector, ‘that’s got it inside. Now we just have to wait and see what—’
He was interrupted by the loudest explosion I had ever heard. The ground seemed to shake as all eyes turned towards the apocalyptic noise. Moments later we were hit by a wave of uncomfortably hot air. Bright orange flames danced into the sky from a shed a few hundred yards away and men began rushing towards it from every direction.
There was another colossal bang.
The guards were standing on the railway wagon trying to get a better view.
‘Looks like the lamp oil store,’ shouted one.
‘There’ll be more ’splosions if it is,’ shouted another.
He was right. Two more bangs thudded into the sky.
Everywhere was pandemonium, with men running and
shouting, trying to organize efforts to control the fire and minimize the damage.
Another monumental bang brought even the Customs men out of the shed. Everyone apart from the gold guards was running towards the fire. Everyone apart from the gold guards, and two Customs men who had emerged from a storage area beside the Customs shed. They entered the shed and reemerged a few minutes later, hauling the gold trolley.
They attracted the attention of the guards, who helped them drag it up the shallow ramp from the platform on to the wagon. One of the guards prised the lid from one of the boxes and gave it a cursory look to ensure that it was, indeed, the gold. He did the same with another of the boxes and then, apparently reassured that they had what they’d been sent to collect, gave the signal to go. The engine chuffed into life as the remainder of the eight armed guards scrambled to their positions on the wagon.
Within moments, the one-wagon train was gone, leaving the chaos – and the threat of robbery – behind as it set off on its journey to London.
We watched the Customs shed, but nothing else happened.
‘If we were right,’ said the inspector, ‘and that train just steamed off with the fake gold, then what’s happened to the—’
‘Oi!’ shouted a voice from behind us. ‘What are you men doing standing about there? Can’t you see there’s a fire? Get to your stations. You know the drill.’
The speaker didn’t stop to check that we were obeying, but it seemed that we would draw yet more unwanted attention by hanging about, so we reluctantly moved in the general direction of the burning oil shed.
We met Lady Hardcastle.
‘Hello, you lot,’ she said. ‘It’s all go here, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ I said. ‘We think we’ve seen the fake gold being loaded on to the train, but we’ve had to come away without seeing what’s happened to the real stuff.’
