Blood on the Tide

by Chris O'Donoghue

  ‘Well I’ll be buggered. So that’s what spiked me.’ Then, reluctantly: ‘You were right, after all. Let’s get this back to the station and you can dust it for prints.’ Lewis carefully wrapped the knife in his handkerchief, the men climbed back into the car and headed off to Collinghurst.

  -0-

  The DI was the first through the door of the police station. He was just about to go to his office when the desk sergeant called out to him. ‘Inspector Parker ... There are two boys waiting to see you.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Two nice lads. Said it was very important. I put them in the interview room.’

  ‘Couldn’t you’ve talked to them?’

  ‘They said they’d only talk to you.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I’ve got enough on my plate without bothering about daft boys.’

  ‘I think perhaps you should see them, Sir. They were very insistent.’

  ‘All right,’ he said grumpily, ‘But they’d better not be wasting my time.’

  The other officers had caught up with him. He sent Lewis off to process the knife. To Barrow he said: ‘You come with me,’ and marched ahead of him into the room where the Christopher and Sandy were waiting.

  -0-

  The two young friends were sitting side by side at the table, trying not to show their nerves.

  ‘Right, you two. This had better be good. I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.’ The DI slumped down opposite them. Barrow sat next to his boss. Parker lit a cigarette, threw the packet down on the table and blew smoke towards the boys.

  Christopher coughed, swallowed, then spoke. His voice was firm, as was his resolve. ‘Sir, we have important information for you.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Spit it out!’

  Undeterred by the policeman’s tetchiness he carried on. ‘Well, Sir. We were on the beach…’

  Parker leant forward and glowered. ‘You’re the brats that Weeks told me about, aren’t you?’

  Christopher was determined to carry on. He swallowed and spoke firmly. ‘Yes, we are.’ And then quietly: ‘You didn’t believe us then.’

  ‘What makes you think I’ll believe you now?’ Parker took a long drag on his cigarette then rested it on the ashtray.

  Sandy spoke for the first time. ‘Because we know what happened to Johnny - I mean Constable Weeks – and he’s in great danger.’

  Parker’s jaw actually dropped and it was a few seconds before he spoke. ‘What did you say?’

  Now that the boys knew they had his attention they were more confident. Sandy went on: ‘We think he’s been captured by that other German.’

  ‘The one with the funny leg,’ Christopher added.

  ‘Right,’ the DI sat back and folded his arms. ‘You’d better tell me everything. Start from the beginning.’ Something distracted him and before they could answer he bent down and peered under the table. Looking back at him were a pair of soft brown eyes. ‘What’s that bloody dog doing in here?’ he bawled.

  ‘Sorry, Sir. Constable Weeks was looking after Aggie when he disappeared. We had to bring her with us.’

  Parker grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Well just make sure you keep the damn thing quiet. Now, spill the beans.’

  Taking it in turns, the boys outlined what they had witnessed on the beach. At first the DI was sceptical, especially when they said there had been a thick sea mist, but their clarity and recollection persuaded him they were telling the truth.

  ‘So you’re sure he mentioned France?’ he asked. The boys nodded. ‘It’s a blinking big country. I wonder where?’ he asked the room in general.

  ‘It could be Boulogne,’ Barrow volunteered.

  ‘Really? That’s where that French detective is based.’

  ‘Bruissement.’

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Perhaps he can help?’

  ‘Maybe. Only one way to find out – we’ll have to get him on the blower. Meanwhile,’ he looked towards Barrow, ‘perhaps you could take these young gentlemen home?’

  ‘But…’ Sandy’s protestation was cut short by a swift kick from Christopher. He closed his mouth and glowered at his friend.

  Barrow began to rise from his seat. ‘Come on then, lads.’

  Just after they’d left the room, Lewis entered.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s a match,’ Lewis smiled. ‘They’re definitely the German’s dabs.

  ‘Brilliant. Good news at last.’

  Lewis held up his hand. ‘Just to make sure, I’m going to take the knife over to Crooks the pathologist to get a match with the wounds on the victims.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Parker looked at his watch. ‘It’s getting on a bit. Will he still be there?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve already telephoned the mortuary and caught him before he left. He’s going to wait for me.’

  ‘Good. In that case we’ll let Herr Müller stew overnight.’

  -0-

  The boys were settled on the back seat of the police car, the terrier sitting between them. Barrow turned and grinned at them. ‘Well done, lads. It’s not often that the boss is impressed, but he certainly was with the info you had.’ The boys grinned back. ‘Right, where to? What’s your address?’

  ‘Umm,’ Christopher began. ‘Could you possibly take us to Shell Bay?’

  Barrow raised an eyebrow. ‘Why do you want to go back there?’

  ‘We’re camping in the dunes and all our stuff is there.’

  ‘Fair enough. Sit tight - it’s going to be a bumpy ride.’

  -0-

  ‘What do you think about Guillaume’s suggestion?’ Judd asked. They were sitting in the American’s office discussing what to do next.

  ‘I’ve got a gut feeling that time, as you suggested, is running out. Is there any way we can get across to France more quickly?’ He looked earnestly at Judd. ‘My trip here on the train was very enjoyable but I wasn’t in a hurry then.’

  Judd sighed. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ He sat back and scratched his head. ‘I wish there was an overnight train that could get us there quicker… Unfortunately, I don’t think there is.’

  The two men sat in silence for a while, each with his own thoughts. Then Judd spoke. ‘There may be a way,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘We might be able to fly. Do you know if there’s an airfield near Boulogne?’

  Russell scratched his head. ‘No, I don’t think there is.’ He paused. ‘Hang on, there’s an airfield at Le Touquet. I’ve flown there from Lydd airport in Kent.’

  ‘Is it anywhere near Boulogne?’

  ‘Better than that, it’s even closer to Saint Valery!’

  ‘Right. Let me see what I can do.’ Judd opened his address book and found a number. He picked up the telephone and dialled. After a few moments he spoke rapidly in German. The only words that Russell vaguely recognised were ‘Flughafen’ and ‘Stuttgart’. After several minutes, during which the American became increasingly animated, he put the receiver down and smiled. ‘Success!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yup. A friend of mine - he’s a pilot – has got access to a Piper Clipper.’

  ‘I think I know it. It’s a neat little four-seater, isn’t it?’

  ‘Right. It’s based at Flughafen Stuttgart-Echterdingen.’ He smiled. ‘That’s Stuttgart airport to you.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘And he’s prepared to fly us to Le Touquet.’ His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. ‘It’s gonna be an early start I’m afraid.’

  ‘How early?’

  ‘Sun-up. That’s about 5 am. That okay with you?’

  ‘Of course, if it gets us there quickly. The sooner we get hold of Herr Salz, the happier I’ll feel.’

  -0-

  Wolfgang stood grim-faced in the wheelhouse on Moonshine. The news that his brother was being held at Collinghurst, and was going to be charged with murder, frustrated him beyond endurance. Not only did he now realise that he was unable to d
o anything about his imprisonment but he would have to finish the task they started together, alone. He was out of the shipping lane so slipped a loop of rope over the spoke of the wheel. This would hold the vessel’s course while he went below to make himself a mug of hot coffee.

  -0-

  Weeks woke to find he was lying on the cabin floor with his hands tied tightly together. He looked down. He recognised a double constrictor knot. His head was thumping in time to the beat of the boat’s engine and he felt sick. He closed his eyes against the pain. When he opened them again the form of Wolfgang, standing over him, swam into view.

  ‘So what do you think you are doing on my boat,’ he asked, smiling grimly.

  ‘What?’ The DC shook his head slowly, trying to lessen the pain. The boat, with the engine ticking over, was rocking uncomfortably.

  ‘This was not a wise move.’ The German’s voice took on a sinister tone. ‘Now I have to decide what to do with you.’ The boat gave a lurch and so did Weeks’s stomach. He retched and brought up his last meal, just missing Wolfgang’s feet. ‘Ach! Widerlich!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Weeks slurred, and was immediately sick again. Wolfgang tutted in disgust and walked out of the cabin and up the companionway steps, moving easily, in tune with the motion of the boat.

  MONDAY

  Kidnapping - the unlawful taking away of a person against their will. This may be done for the furtherance of a crime.

  DI PARKER and DC Barrow were sitting in the office at the police station. Parker had his feet up on the desk, a cigarette gripped between his thumb and forefinger. A curl of smoke rose lazily from the glowing tip. He was feeling smug. Lewis had come in earlier with the news that the knife they had found was a perfect match for the wounds inflicted on the three victims. So, with the fingerprints, there was now no need to show it to the previous owner of Moonshine - whatever his name was. His gloating was dashed by the unannounced entry into the room of Superintendent Stout. Both detectives got smartly to their feet, Parker quickly standing on the cigarette end that he dropped on the floor.

  ‘Right …’ The Super, sitting down on the spare chair, gestured for the others to return to their seats. ‘… We’ve got enough evidence to convict Müller of murders. It’s a shame we can’t get his brother, too. Any news from France?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sir,’ Parker said, his voice deferential. ‘Our contact …’ He looked down at the paper in front of him. ‘… Bruissement ...’ he enunciated carefully, ‘…had left his office when we tried to contact him yesterday evening.’

  ‘Have you tried him today?’

  ‘Yes, but he hasn’t turned up yet.’

  Stout groaned in frustration.’ Isn’t there anyone else who can help over there?’

  The DI looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘It doesn’t seem so, Sir. Nobody else seems to speak English …’

  ‘… And you don’t speak French?’

  Parker looked down. ‘No, Sir.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Parker squirmed in his seat. Stout continued. ‘And I suppose you don’t know what’s happened to Constable Weeks?’

  ‘Afraid not, Sir.’

  ‘So … although we’ve got the main suspect in custody, we’re missing his brother - who seems to be the mastermind behind this sorry affair - as well as a detective constable.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  He banged his fist on the table. ‘It’s not good enough!’

  Barrow coughed nervously. ‘We have got the soldier, Rankin, Sir.’

  ‘Maybe, but he was only the driver ... wasn’t he?’ Barrow nodded. ‘Right, well keep trying until you get hold of the French detective or you two will be on the next ferry to Boulogne. And it won’t be a pleasure trip!’ the superintendent thundered. He stood up abruptly and left the room.

  Parker waited a few moments after the door had closed before he spoke. ‘I hate the sea. You won’t get me on a bloody ferry - not if I have anything to do with it.’ He grunted and picked up the telephone handset and dialled the switchboard. ‘Get me that number in Boulogne again.’ There was a pause. ‘Of course the same one!’ He slammed the receiver down and turned to Barrow. ‘Idiot.’ The DC knew better than to respond and they sat in silence until the phone rang. ‘Yes? This is Parker. Ah, Bruissement.’

  ‘Yes, it is I. What is it you wish to speak me about?’ The Frenchman’s voice was cool.

  ‘Er, we understand that one of our officers has been kidnapped and is on his way to France.’

  ‘Pardon?!’

  The DI enunciated slowly, ‘I - said, one - of - our - officers …’

  Bruissement interrupted. ‘Yes, I comprehended what you said, I was just surprised. Who has been kidnapped?’

  ‘Weeks.’

  The Frenchman gasped. ‘DI Russell’s number two?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was foolish enough to be caught nosing around Moonshine, which belongs to the Müller brothers, and Wolfgang’s got him.’

  ‘And ’e is ’eaded for France?’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘Why France?’ Bruissement asked.

  ‘We don’t know. I thought you might be able to help.’ Parker’s words hung in the air for some moments. The line crackled.

  Then Bruissement spoke. ‘I will tell you what I know. We think Wolfgang Müller has a reason to ’ead for Saint Valery.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  ‘It is just down the coast from Boulogne.’

  ‘But why there … may I ask?’

  ‘ ’E is after number four.’

  ‘Number four?’ Parker was puzzled.

  ‘I ’ope you are sitting in comfort – it is a long story.’

  ‘Very comfortable thank you. Go ahead.’ The Frenchman went on to explain.

  Apart from lighting a cigarette, the DI sat quietly and listened. Bruissement explained in detail what Russell had told him. When he came to the end the DI spoke.

  ‘So Russell and this American …’

  ‘Judd.’

  ‘ … Judd. They are flying back from Germany.’

  ‘Ah oui. They will be arriving later this morning.’

  ‘And you are going to meet them at Le Touquet.’

  ‘Exactement!’

  ‘You do realise Russell is off the case?’ Parker growled.

  ‘Yes, I am aware of that.’ There was sadness in Bruissement’s voice.

  ‘So he shouldn’t be involved,’ Parker said.

  After a pause the Frenchman said: ‘Are you planning to come over then, Inspector?’

  ‘Ah … well,’ he stammered. ‘I’m not sure I can be spared from my duties here.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you should ’ave a leetle word with your Superintendent?’

  ‘Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?’

  ‘That DI Russell should be reinstated? Mai oui – but of course.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure he’ll agree.’

  ‘Then it is up to you to persuade him, non?’ Amusement crept into Bruissement’s voice. ‘Unless, of course you would like to catch the ferry over to Boulogne?’

  ‘I’ll have to see what I can do,’ Parker muttered.

  ‘Meanwhile, I ’ave alerted la Garde côtière here and I suggest you inform your English coastguard.’

  -0-

  Moonshine moved easily through the waves. The wind was light, no more than force two, only occasionally rising to a gentle three. The mist acted like oil on troubled waters, rendering the surface of the sea smooth, the tops of the waves barely breaking. Wolfgang perched on the helmsman’s seat, holding the wheel lightly, making automatic adjustments. The mist had been patchy as he crossed the Channel but once he was a few miles off the French coast it had become thicker, so he motored slowly north for several hours before turning and motoring back. This was how he had spent most of the night, grabbing a few minutes’ sleep here and there.

  When day broke the mist was still thick. It was a couple o
f hours before high tide so he decided it was time to risk entering the Channel. He was sure that both the English and French coastguards would be looking for him but the covering mist had been on his side. However, he needed to conceal the boat so that when the murk lifted it wouldn’t easily be spotted.

  But … there was still the problem of what to do with the policeman - the task ahead was going to be difficult enough without such an unwelcome encumbrance. If only Ludwig was with him - he missed his brother’s bulk and muscle, let alone his moral support. Suddenly he had an inspiration - the policeman was young and fit, despite his mal de mer. With a little persuasion he could be a replacement for Ludwig, albeit a less powerful and menacing one. And Wolfgang had just the right persuasion… His brother had preferred a knife, but he knew that his own Luger pistol would come in useful sometime. He slipped the loop of rope over the spoke of the wheel and went below.

  Weeks had managed to get himself upright, his back against the bulkhead. He looked decidedly unwell. His skin was pale and pasty, his eyes rheumy. He looked blearily at Wolfgang. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We are off the coast of France, in the Baie de la Somme. We will soon be making landfall.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me where?’

  Of course. Why not? We are going to Saint-Valery-sur-Somme.’

  Weeks arched his back, struggling to make himself more comfortable. ‘Why there?’

  Wolfgang paused and thought for a moment. ‘I will untie your hands if you promise not to do anything stupid - this should help to remind you.’ He took the Luger out of his pocket, pointed it at Weeks, then laid it on the bunk. He crouched down and worked skilfully at the knots until the ropes came free. Weeks rubbed his wrists gratefully.

  ‘You now have a choice. You can agree to help me or …’

  Weeks looked warily at the little German. ‘Or what?’

  Wolfgang touched the pistol and gave a cold smile. ‘I doubt even you could swim with a bullet in your leg … or somewhere more painful.’

  Weeks shuddered and closed his eyes wearily. ‘What do you want me to do?’