‘Fountain?’
‘Yes, Fountain. I think we need to pay him another visit. We’ll go in the morning.’ He pulled back his cuff and peered at his wristwatch. Looking up he smiled. ‘I think we’ll call it a day, I don’t think much will happen overnight. We’ll make a fresh start tomorrow.’ The two constables were just leaving when he said: ‘Johnny, could you look after Aggie for me? One of my old mates from the army has been in touch. He’s just been promoted to DCI in the Met and has asked me to meet him in London. I thought I’d go up this evening. I’ll stay overnight, but don’t worry, I’ll catch the early train down in the morning.’
Weeks grinned. ‘Of course, sir. It will be a pleasure.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Come on, Ag.’ The little terrier appeared from under the desk, tail wagging, and without a backward glance, followed the DC out of the office.
Russell rolled his eyes. ‘Charming.’
-0-
A single lamp lit the desk in the corner of the warehouse and shafts of low sunlight filtered through the dusty window, spotlighting items of furniture and bric-a-brac. The rest of the cluttered room was in near darkness. Duncan Fountain sat in an overstuffed armchair staring at nothing in particular. He was finding it hard to concentrate. So much had happened, in such a short time: The meeting with Septimus Pike and the warning that the police would be paying him a visit; the break-in and the havoc that it had caused; then the visit from Inspector Parker and his insinuation that he had staged the burglary to claim on the insurance. The cheek of the man! He knew he might look poor but things weren’t so bad that he needed to break the law. Well, apart from dealing in some possibly illegally obtained goods – but everyone did that, didn’t they? However, he was regretting agreeing to fence the goods that the fishermen had brought him. Possession of them was obviously much more dangerous than he had at first thought. And now Isobel was missing and by the reaction from the two policemen who had not long departed, there was cause for concern. Was that because she was storing the items for him? He felt overwhelmed; felt that he was suffering from sensory overload and he wasn’t sure he could cope. Thoughts kept circling round his muddled head. Nothing seemed to make sense – everything conspired to pile confusion on to chaos.
He was startled to hear the letterbox in the door clatter and see a grubby brown envelope flutter to the floor. At first he was perplexed. It was a strange time for the post to arrive. Then something inside him stirred – he had a bad feeling. Rising swiftly he crossed the room and picked up the envelope. The flap wasn’t sealed and he slid out a single sheet of paper folded in half. Opening it he could see, written in pencil, a note which made his stomach tense and his heart pound.
Fountain
If you wish to see your lady friend again,
be at the quay,Compass Point –
with the rest of the goods,
7.30 tomorrow evening.
AND NO POLICE!
His heart was hammering so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. He sat down with a bump, absently pulled the Paisley handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the sweat that was welling from his face and neck. This was the last thing he expected. Who the hell had sent the note? He got up and looked out of the window – he was too scared to unlock the door – but the street was empty. Whoever had pushed the envelope through the letterbox was long gone. He sat down again, his large head in his hands, the letter lying across his lap. What could he do? He read the words again – “the rest of the goods…”. Presumably that meant whoever sent the letter had the gold and silver trinkets that Isobel had been storing for him. Jesus! What had they done to her? He sat for a long time, raw fear bubbling up inside him. He remembered the card the policewoman had given him. What was her name? For God’s sake – it didn’t matter! He got up and crossed to his desk and had just lifted the telephone receiver off the rest when he stopped and carefully placed it back. The note said, ‘AND NO POLICE’! He couldn’t imagine what might happen if he did involve them. So he wasn’t going to tempt fate – not if Isabel’s safety was under threat. But where was she? He turned the note over but the back was blank. He felt in the envelope but it was empty. He read the words again, although by now he knew them by heart. He looked at his watch. A quarter to eight. That gave him less than 24 hours to find the goods.
What was he thinking? He didn’t have the slightest idea where they were – or who had them. If he turned up without them, what would happen then? He couldn’t imagine. The panic was rising again, threatening to choke him. What the hell was he going to do? He started pacing up and down the room, gnawing on his knuckle. It wasn’t long before he drew blood – but he was so absorbed that he didn’t notice the trickle running between his fingers or the metallic taste in his mouth.
‘Calm down,’ he told himself. ‘Think logically.’ He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. Tedham had brought him the batch of goods. Then he remembered: when he’d seen how much the man had brought, he was disappointed. Earlier Nipper Crabbe had intimated that there was lot more than had actually been delivered. So did the fisherman have the rest? He let out a frustrated gasp. What did it matter? He had no idea where to find them. But he had to get the goods – or what would happen to Isobel? He shuddered. He had to find them.
After a while Fountain had recovered enough composure to formulate a plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only one he had. He decided that he would visit the local pubs and hostelries, to see if anyone knew of the whereabouts of the fisherman. So he got into his Morris Traveller and started the engine, producing the distinctive trumpeting exhaust note. He headed for Nottery Quay. First stop was the Seahorse Inn where he’d initially met Nipper Crabbe and his accomplice, Ted Stump. But when he arrived and got out of the car a dread descended and he wished he’d never set eyes on them. If he hadn’t been shown the gold and silver objects, and especially the jewellery, Isobel wouldn’t be missing and in danger and he wouldn’t be scared witless.
He asked after Tedham. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t seen him for a number of days,’ the barman said. ‘Shame, as when he and his mate, Frankie, do come in they usually drink quite a bit.’ He was tall and angular, with a sad smile. ‘If they turn up, who shall I say was looking for them?’
Fountain was flustered. ‘Oh. Just say a friend.’ As he turned to go the barman spoke again.
‘Actually, they don’t come in that often. You might be better off asking in the pubs around Rock-a-Nore. That’s where they keep their boat.’
‘Thanks. I’ll try there.’
As he drove west he found it hard to keep the panic and dread at bay. What if he didn’t find them? He parked his Morris at the side of one of the net sheds, unaware he was only a few yards from where the contraband had been stored, a few days before. Walking back towards the town the first pub he came to was the Dolphin. As soon as he entered he felt like a fish out of water. Half a dozen pairs of eyes swivelled to stare at him. Each belonged to a fisherman. They were dressed in a variety of faded and ragged sweaters, nondescript, salt-stained trousers and sea-boots. Every man jack of them was wearing a grubby flat hat or a Breton cap. The air of suspicion was almost as dense as the tobacco smoke that hung in a pall below the low nicotine-stained ceiling and filled the bar with a cloying smell. Swallowing nervously Fountain made his way across the room.
The man behind the bar was tall, with matted, shoulder-length hair, a windswept complexion and a Roman nose that looked to have been broken more than once. He eyed the stranger for a few moments then uttered a single word. ‘Yes?’
‘Er, excuse me,’ Fountain stammered. ‘I’m looking for Sailor Tedham.’ There was long pause while sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades.
‘Is that so? And why might you be interested in him?’ The man leaned forward and rested his forearms on the bar top. He grinned, displaying a fine set of teeth, gold glowing at the corners of his mouth.
‘Oh, no reason. Just thought he might have been in here.’
�
�Ain’t seen him for days. Now, if you don’t want a drink…’ Standing upright, he turned and walked away. Flustered, Fountain stumbled to the door. As he reached it and stepped over the threshold, a figure rose from his seat and silently followed him.
At first Fountain didn’t notice. Outside there was a single street lamp. The yellow glow from its gas mantle did little to illuminate the road. After walking for a few moments he looked over his shoulder and, realising he was being followed, put on a spurt. But the man following didn’t slow his pace and soon closed the distance between them. Fountain broke into a trot but before he reached his car he felt a hand on his shoulder. Unable to shake it off he turned to face his pursuer. ‘What do you want?’ he stammered, his eyes wide with fear.
‘Calm down,’ the man said. ‘I’ve come to ’elp you.’
‘What? How?’ Fountain was confused. He was expecting to be attacked, not helped.
‘I heard you say you was lookin’ for Sailor.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I might know where you can find him.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
Fountain narrowed his eyes. ‘Why would you want to help me?’
‘Why?’ the man chortled. ‘Maybe I think it could be to my advantage.’
Fountain could feel his skin grow cold. ‘W-what do you mean?’ he stammered.
‘Look, I’ll come clean. The fishin’ community is a small one. Nothin’ stays secret for long – it’s almost impossible to keep anythin’ to yourself. So… we all knew somethin’ was goin’ on – somethin’ big.
As Fountain got into the car the man climbed into the passenger seat, closed the door and sat back with his arms folded tightly against his chest. By the light of a nearby gas lamp Fountain could just see that he was dressed much like the fishermen in the Dolphin. With one exception – his cap was a tam-o’-shanter – grubby, but even in the dim light the tartan was quite recognisable. He was of indeterminate age, his weather-worn skin giving nothing away. Fountain turned towards him. ‘I don’t know what to call you. Are you going to tell me your name?’
‘Lou. You can call me Lou. I don’t want to tell you any more – okay?’
‘That’s fine by me. Are you going to let me know what you’ve heard?’
‘Don’t see why not.’ The man took a skinny roll-up that had been tucked behind his ear and placed it between his lips. Rummaging in a pocket he produced a red-headed match and deftly flicked it with a grimy thumbnail, producing a flame. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘I s’pose you’ve ’eard about the Nazi gold?’
‘Possibly.’ Fountain feigned indifference.
‘Hmm. I reckon you know more than you’re letting on.’
‘What makes you say that?’
The other man blew out a plume of smoke and chuckled. ‘A little bird told me.’
‘A little bird?’
‘Yeah. One of your colleagues is a mate of mine.’
‘Who is that then?’
‘A gentlemen who goes by the name of Septimus Pike.’ Fountain swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing. Lou, looking closely at him, noticed. ‘Yeah, that’s right. He told me he’d had a visit from the local constabulary. And, I think I’m right in saying, so did you.’ He looked away, a smile playing about his face, the roll-up gripped tightly between his lips.
‘Maybe.’ Fountain’s voice was quiet. ‘What else have you heard?’
Lou grinned. ‘Thought you’d be interested. What I’ve ’eard is that a large quantity of stolen goods, probably taken from Jews, has been floating about and been offered for sale. Am I right?’ Fountain shrugged non-committally. ‘And the rozzers are trying to track it down. Plus… there’s a mysterious Froggy – a smarmy cove by the sound of it – who reckon’s it’s ’is. ’E says someone’s nicked it. Well, at least some of it. An’ he’s after whoever took it. Sound familiar?’
‘Yes, you’re right. That’s why I’m looking for Tedham.’
‘Thought as much. You reckon he’s got the stuff?’
‘I can’t think who else. I know Nipper Crabbe and Ted Stump had it initially.’
‘And one’s dead and t’other’s in hospital.’
‘Quite, so it can’t be them.’
‘What makes you think Sailor an’ Frankie have got it then?’
A frown passed across Fountain’s face. ‘Sailor and Frankie?’
‘Didn’t you know? Thick as thieves, they are. Where Sailor goes, Frankie goes too.’
‘I see.’ Fountain shook his head, as if to make the new information settle. ‘Anyway. You said you know where he… where they will be.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How come?’
Lou grinned. ‘If they’re hiding up then there’s only one place they’ll go.’
‘Where’s that?’
The man’s cigarette had long gone out but it remained stuck firmly to his bottom lip as he spoke. ‘I’ve got this old boat, see. More of a hulk, really. Don’t go nowhere, just sits on the riverbank. I go there when I want time on me own – time to think. I keeps a few vittles there, so I can turn up at any time an’ spend a few days there, if the mood takes me.’
‘And you reckon that’s where they’ll be.’
‘Stands to reason. Sailor knows about it and I’ve said he can stay there if ever he needs to. They ain’t got nowhere else to go…’
‘Where is this boat – this hulk of yours?’
‘I’ll show you. It’s not that far. We could go now.’
Fountain twisted the ignition key and pulled the starter knob. The engine turned over then burst into life. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Head towards Compass Point and I’ll tell you when we get there.’ Fountain selected first gear, turned the car and headed out of town.
For 20 minutes they drove east, nothing was said then Lou spoke. ‘Slow down.’ Fountain reduced speed, the car headlights picking out bushes and scrub along the side of the road. ‘Here! Turn left, by that phone box. And keep the speed down. It’s a bit bumpy.’ Lou wasn’t joking. They turned off the Tarmac road on to a deeply rutted track – the ground alternating between patches of soft sand and raised lumps of sandstone. Fountain picked his way carefully between the obstacles, twisting the steering wheel this way and that, throwing the men from side to side in the narrow cabin, their shoulders connecting regularly.
‘Switch off your main lights,’ Lou commanded. ‘We don’t want them to know we’re coming.’ Fountain flicked the switch, plunging the track ahead into almost complete darkness. He reduced the speed to less than a walking pace, the car’s sidelights giving barely enough illumination to see where they were going. After a few minutes, his shirt was soaked with sweat as he struggled to keep control of the wildly spinning steering wheel. Then the fisherman told him to stop. ‘Right, this is as far as we drive. We’ll walk the rest of the way.’ Fountain switched off the engine. After the bumping and rocking they’d endured the silence was almost deafening.
The two men quietly closed the car doors. ‘Right, it’s this way,’ Lou said, his voice just above a whisper. He led the way along the track, a fitful moon peeping from behind scudding clouds only just providing sufficient illumination to find their way. As they approached the raised bank at the side of the river the shadowy form of the hulk loomed into view, a stubby mast pointing into the dark sky. ‘That’s it,’ he rasped. Fountain moved forward and Lou grabbed his arm. ‘Wait. Let’s decide ’ow best to do this.’
‘Shhh!’ Tedham hissed. ‘What was that?’
‘What?’ Drake frowned, a look of bafflement on his face.
‘Didn’t you hear it?’
‘No.’
‘There’s someone outside.’ There was urgency in his voice.
‘You sure?’
‘Course I’m sure. Got bloody good ’earing, ain’t I?’
‘Well who is it then?’
‘’Ow the ’ell should I know?’ Tedham was growing increasingly tetchy.
/> ‘Must be an animal or somethin’. Who’d come out ’ere at night?’
They sat in silence, listening. ‘Shh! Quick! Put that light out.’
Drake reached across the table and blew hard across the top of the glass globe of the lamp, extinguishing the smoky flame. The cabin was plunged into darkness. The two men sat, breathing as lightly as they could, listening hard. There was a sharp crack from outside.
Lou turned to Fountain and hissed: ‘What the ’ell did you do that for?’
‘Sorry! Must’ve stepped on a twig.’
‘Well keep it quiet. We don’t want to warn them that we’re ’ere if they’re inside.’
‘Anyway, it doesn’t look like anyone’s home.’
‘Maybe not, but best to be cautious. I’ll go first – you wait here.’
‘Did you ’ear that? Tedham whispered.
‘I did that time.’
‘Someone’s definitely out there.’
‘But who?’
‘For crying out loud… Just listen!’ There was a step on the ladder leaning against the hulk. Tedham put a warning hand on Drake’s arm. With the other hand he reached for a baulk of timber that knew was lying along the back of the bunk. His fingers closed round the end and he held it, like a club.
‘What’re you doin’?’
‘Stay there,’ Tedham said, rising slowly. ‘As soon as ’e puts ’is ’ead in the cabin I’ll give ’im what for.’
‘But what if it’s a friend?’
Tedham let out a rasp of a laugh. ‘Friend? No one knows we’re ’ere.’ The cabin hatch was pushed back and the two men saw a leg being carefully lifted over the washboard. In a moment it was followed by the other leg and a slender shape filled the space, shutting out what little light had filtered in. Tedham raised the club, ready to strike.
The man had reached the bottom step as the clouds parted, pale moonlight lighting his head and shoulders. Tedham brought his arm back and was just about to bring the baulk down on the intruder’s head when Drake grabbed his arm. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘It’s Lou Vicary! I’d recognise that ’at anywhere!’
Blood on the Strand Page 21
