Gently Where the Roads Go

by Alan Hunter

  ‘Am I guessing wrong, Madsen?’ Gently said.

  ‘It’s a hoot, the way you’re kidding yourself,’ Wanda said. ‘So Tim did for that rat Sawney, and you know why. Isn’t that enough for you?’

  ‘Not when you’re protesting so much,’ Gently said.

  ‘Oh, you’re too bloody clever,’ Wanda said. ‘But you’re not as clever as Tim, he’s always two jumps ahead of you.’

  ‘At the moment, about half a jump,’ Gently said.

  ‘And you had him surrounded,’ Wanda said. ‘Go on being clever. Call in the Navy and the Air Force. You won’t catch Tim in a month of Sundays.’

  She folded her thin arms, stared past them out of the window. Felling’s face had a fixed sneer, but his eyes were empty. Madsen kept facing the floor. His lips worked with little smiles. He was wearing thick rough boots, the toes of which were turned together.

  ‘So Sawney was dead,’ Gently said. ‘And Teodowicz and the gun were at The Raven. And Mrs Lane knew the score, if she didn’t know it earlier. But you, Madsen, knew it earlier, before that handy trip to Glasgow. You had to be intimidated into playing your part, and you had to know what it was when you returned. Isn’t that so?’

  Madsen smiled at his boots.

  ‘So you’re an accessory before the fact,’ Gently said. ‘And it goes without saying that Felling is too. Felling was to be first on the scene, he had to switch the fingerprint cards. He had to make certain that no doubts arose as to the identity of the body. Then he had to steer Madsen through the questioning and deflect interest away from The Raven. Felling was evidently briefed thoroughly, and briefed before the crime took place.’

  ‘You’ll say I did it in a minute,’ Felling said. ‘It’s all lies, the bloody lot of it.’

  ‘Felling,’ Gently said, ‘you’d better help us. It’s the only sensible thing you can do.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be a mug,’ Felling said. ‘I’ll admit all them lies. Only I don’t bloody think so. You don’t catch me like that.’

  ‘God, man, how can you be so stupid?’ Whitaker said.

  ‘Very funny,’ Felling said. ‘Only I’m innocent, that’s what. I’m going to prove it, what’s more, and then I’m going to sue that bastard. I’ll teach him to come here with his slanders. I nearly let fly at him this afternoon.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘you nearly did that, didn’t you? And you were tempted in the garage yesterday, when I saw the significance of that oil bottle. But you’re not a killer Felling. You’re a treacherous fool, but you’re not a killer. Try a little savvy now. Tell us what you know about Teodowicz.’

  ‘You go to hell,’ Felling said.

  ‘You’re going to catch a stiff one,’ Gently said.

  ‘If I catch it,’ Felling said. ‘You go to hell. There’s no mug here.’

  ‘All right, Felling,’ Gently said. He looked at Wanda. Wanda looked out of the window. ‘You’re not a killer either,’ Gently said to her. ‘You tried to protect me back there. But the man you’re shielding is a killer: a psychopath and a killer. Don’t fool yourself, Mrs Lane. He’d have killed you too when it suited his purpose.’

  ‘What do you know about Tim?’ Wanda said.

  ‘I know a lot about killers,’ Gently said. ‘They’re lonely people, they daren’t trust anyone. And so they’re never to be trusted. Once a man goes through that gate he leaves all common claim behind him. His way back leads by the gallows or by what penalty the law provides. Until then he acts humanity like a wolf in a sheepskin. But he doesn’t have it. He’s an exile. When the wind blows on him, he’ll kill again. If you know where Teodowicz is going, then tell us, Mrs Lane.’

  ‘You don’t know Tim,’ Wanda said. ‘You think he’s some petty criminal. Some Christie or Haig, those are the killers you know. Because you aren’t big enough to understand him. Because you’re pigmies and think like pigmies. Because you can’t imagine a man who can kill and stay clean. But Tim is that sort of man. He can do what none of you would dare to. He has a right to take life because his soul doesn’t shrink from it. And I’m telling you nothing about him, you can do your own clumsy chasing. Get your dogs and your cordons out and bring him in. If you can.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Gently said, ‘that you’re here.’

  ‘Thank you for nothing,’ Wanda said.

  Gently shrugged, looked at Madsen. ‘What about you, Madsen?’ he said. ‘You aren’t serving the Christ child with a Sten gun in his hand.’

  Madsen was trembling. He looked towards Gently. His pale eyes flickered, came to a stare.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Ver’ well, ver’ well.’

  ‘Filthy traitor!’ Wanda shouted.

  Madsen looked at her, twisting his lips. ‘Not a traitor,’ he said. ‘That man is too wicked.’

  She spat on his cheek. He kept trying to smile. ‘No, not a traitor,’ he repeated.

  Madsen spoke in a low voice so that he had to be listened to with care. The colour in his cheeks came and went, he didn’t know what to do with his eyes. Wanda had turned her back on him. She sat motionless, hands in lap. Freeman had moved up close to her. She paid no attention when he moved up. Felling glared all the while at Madsen, sat saggingly, had his fists on his thighs.

  ‘Yes, it is right,’ Madsen whispered. ‘Tim didn’ pay Sawney the proper money. This is why they have the row, it is all about the money. Sawney is ver’ angry with Tim, I think they maybe have a fight. But no, not a fight, they begin to say what they are to do to each other. Tim say he will tell the Air Force people if Sawney does not like what he gets. Sawney say, either he get the money or he will fix Tim for good and all. Tim say, what does he mean by that. Sawney laugh at him, sound ver’ nasty, say he will tell a little bird where Tim is living just now. I don’t care about that, Tim say. But yes, you will care, Sawney say. Then he get out his wallet and show Tim a picture that come out of a newspaper.’

  ‘Did you see that picture?’ Gently asked.

  Madsen nodded. ‘Yes. I see it. Is a ver’ old picture, I think, come out of a newspaper during the war. There is Tim in the middle in a ver’ smart suit, and two Totenkopf officers, you know, the SS. They are smiling, ver’ pleased. It say something underneath in Polish. But it is Tim all right, I can see that at a glance.’

  ‘How did Teodowicz take it?’ Gently asked.

  ‘Is frightened, I think,’ Madsen said. ‘He look at the picture become ver’ quiet. Then he ask Sawney where he get the picture. Sawney say, from someone who knew Tim, someone who is killed during the war. He was a Jew, Sawney say, he was going to kill Tim after the war. And there is another one, Sawney tell him, and he does not die during the war, he is here, in this country, he would like ver’ much to know about Tim. And all the Poles, Sawney say, they would like to know about Tim too. Or about someone else, he say, pointing to the picture. Then he call Tim by another name.’

  ‘What other name?’ Gently said.

  Madsen touched his forehead. ‘I try to think,’ he said. ‘It is a simple name, ver’ simple. Perhaps it come to me, I don’ know. But Tim look terrible when Sawney say it. That is not so, he say. I am Teodowicz, I have my papers, the British police have checked about me. Sawney say, then that is all right, the Poles don’ care about Teodowicz. So do I get my money, Sawney say. Tim say he’ll think about that, don’ have the money by him. Don’ think too long, Sawney say, no Polish bastard is going to gyp me. And then he go out, and that is all. Is the last time I see Sawney.’

  ‘But the name?’ Gently said.

  ‘Is ver’ simple,’ Madsen said. ‘But I am frightened. Tim frighten me. He say he kill me if I remember. When Sawney is gone he get out the gun, keep playing with it, looking at me. I am ver’ scared, you understand? I know he kill me in a minute. It is right, you cannot trust them, they are not men any more. I think he has done some terrible things. I don’ want to know what he has done.’

  ‘He’ll be caught,’ Gently said. ‘You needn’t be frightened of him any more.’

  ‘
Is silly name,’ Madsen said. ‘Like big, or thick, name like that.’

  Empton looked up at the ceiling. ‘Could it be like Slin?’ he asked. ‘Nickolaus Slin?’

  ‘But yes, that is it,’ Madsen said. ‘That is the name Sawney says – Nickolaus Slin.’

  They all looked at Empton. He was smoking one of his cigarettes. He didn’t bother to look at them, slanted smoke towards the ceiling.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Fancy that. And everyone thought he was in South America. This is a blow for Rule Britannia – or will be, when it gets around.’

  ‘You know who it is?’ Whitaker said.

  ‘But of course, old man,’ Empton said. ‘Slin was mayor of Grodz during the occupation, one of Heinie’s blue-eyed boys. Not quite a celebrity, by current standards. His score is reckoned at twenty thousand.’

  ‘Twenty thousand what?’ Whitaker said.

  ‘Jews,’ Empton said. ‘What else? He set up some ovens at Dolina, outside Grodz, with a top capacity of about five hundred a week. A very moderate performer, I suppose, but his memory is still kept green in Poland. He’d disappeared when the Russians got there. A lot of talent has been questing for Slin.’

  ‘My God,’ Whitaker said. He repeated it.

  ‘Now we know the whole story,’ Empton said. ‘Slin did away with a black marketeer called Teodowicz and took his identity, and migrated here. It looks as though little Jan were telling the truth. They would hardly have sent a man to talk to Slin. Sawney must have tipped them without telling them who it was; but of course, the mildest attention would be too much for Slin.’ He puffed some smoke, glanced down at Madsen. ‘You wouldn’t have lived, old fellow,’ he said. ‘Nor would Felling, if he knew about it. Nor would the magnificent Mrs Lane.’

  Wanda turned to look at Empton. ‘You’re muck,’ she said. ‘Just muck.’

  ‘Nicely taken,’ Empton said. ‘What a gift you have for timing.’

  You’ll never get Tim,’ Wanda said. ‘The Russians couldn’t. Nobody can. He’s out of the reach of amateurs like you. He’ll go where he wants to. Nobody can stop him.’

  ‘So he’s going somewhere, is he?’ Empton said.

  Wanda snapped her thin lips.

  ‘Good,’ Empton said. ‘We’ll watch the ports and airfields. Especially the stuff going west. Yet,’ he said, ‘that will scarcely be necessary. I think we can do better than that. I’ll have a little chat with our friend Razek – you know how it is? Set a Pole to catch a Pole.’

  ‘Muck,’ Wanda said. ‘Just muck.’

  Empton chuckled. ‘I like you,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘Think I’ll get along,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the legal routine is in good hands.’

  He nodded to Gently. Whitaker rose. Campling continued to sit saying nothing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  POLISH GUNMAN’S CAR FOUND

  WATCH ON DOCK AREA

  The car known to have been driven by Timoshenko Teodowicz, the armed Pole wanted by the police in connection with the A1 shooting incident, was discovered yesterday in a cul-de-sac in the Highfield district of Southampton. Police wearing revolvers were today patrolling the dock area of the town and tracker dogs have been used.

  SOUTHAMPTON MAN’S CAR AT MARBLE ARCH

  MR EDWARD STOCKBRIDGE

  When Mr Edward Stockbridge of 21, Calcutta Road, went to collect his car after a visit to the Gaumont Cinema last night, he could not find the car. This morning the Town Police contacted Mr Stockbridge to tell him that his car had been found – near the Marble Arch. The Metropolitan Police, not knowing it to be stolen, had towed it away to their ‘pound’. Mr Stockbridge has been assured that he will not be fined on this occasion.

  GUNMAN’S WEAPON FOUND

  STEN GUN IN STREAM

  CHILDREN PADDLING FIND IT

  Two small boys yesterday found the weapon used in the A1 shooting incident, for which the police have been searching since Tuesday. The boys are Eric Blanton, aged 7, and Thomas Seggs, aged 8, of Compton, Hampshire. They found the gun while they were paddling in the River Itchen, near their home. Police think that Teodowicz jettisoned the gun while he was making his way to Southampton.

  COSH BANDIT SOUGHT

  ATTACKS IN DALSTON AREA

  Police are searching for a heavily built man of about 50 who they think is responsible for several recent cosh attacks in the Dalston area. The man, who may be a foreigner, chooses victims as they are leaving public houses. He has got away with amounts of from £2 to £37.

  FELLING: 6 YEARS

  MADSEN: ‘IN GRAVE FEAR’

  CONDITIONAL DISCHARGE FOR WANDA LANE

  Sentencing ex-Detective Sergeant Ronald Felling (40) to six years’ imprisonment for his part in the A1 shooting incident, at Offingham Assizes today, the Judge, Mr Justice Ashley, described him as ‘a thoroughly corrupt individual who had made no bones about betraying the trust society had placed in him.’ Of Ove Madsen (39), who received a sentence of one year’s imprisonment, the Judge said: ‘He is not a strong character and he went in grave fear of that terrible man. I believe this is an instance when the clemency of English Justice should be shown.’ Giving the third defendant, Wanda Lane (36), a conditional discharge, Mr Justice Ashley said of her that: ‘She was patently under the influence of Teodowicz, and I can see no purpose in adding to her misery by sentencing her to a term in prison. I intend to give her another chance to see if she can work out her salvation.’

  OWLES, STANGATE & OLIVER

  For Sale, By Order of The Proprietor

  The Raven roadhouse, situated in a commanding position on the A1, 2m. south of Everham, and consisting of an excellent Chalet-style timber building comprising 12 Bedrooms, 2 baths & etc., residents Lounge & Dining Rooms, Cafeteria & well-fitted Kitchen, private Parlour & Bedrooms; extensive Car Park with Petrol Pump installation (3 pumps), large Kitchen Garden with Poultry Run & matured Fruit-trees, Fuel-store, Outbuildings & etc. By Auction at The Lamb Hotel, Offingham, Oct. 27.

  PROPERTY MARKET

  Messrs. Owles, Stangate & Oliver offered a varied selection of properties for sale at The Lamb Hotel, Offingham, yesterday. They included The Raven roadhouse, Everham, £1300 (Mr George, for a client) . . .

  PUBLICAN ATTACKED

  XMAS CLUB FUNDS STOLEN

  An intruder with a cosh last night attacked Mr Percy Billington (51), licensee of The Black Boy Public House, Norton Street, Stoke Newington, and got away with nearly £200 of Xmas Club funds. The attack occurred soon after closing time when Mr Billington was making up the club ledger. Police believe that the intruder had concealed himself in the toilets.

  Wednesday, December 24th. Big Ben striking four times. A gloomy mist settled in Whitehall and over the muddy tides of the Thames. The great exodus proceeding by way of traffic jams and crawling trains. Frost forecast. Frost apparent in the sparkle of the lights in County Hall.

  Gently looked around his office, pulled on his coat, wrapped his scarf. The basket was emptied, the desk neat, the trays vacant, the chairs aligned. The calendar read two days in advance, Saturday, December 26th: he had pulled a string in the AC’s office and two days had grudgingly been given him. Bridget, his sister, was spending Christmas with him, and along with Bridget her son and daughter-in-law. He would be meeting them in the Leicester Square Corner House in twenty minutes and later they were going to the Coliseum. A Christmas break. He looked round again. The office was warm, tidy and bare. He stuck his pipe in his mouth, reached for the door handle. The telephone rang. He looked at it, sucking.

  He went to the desk, picked up the phone.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hullo, old man.’ It was Empton. ‘Hoped I should catch you,’ Empton said. ‘I’ve just come in from something amusing.’

  ‘I’m just leaving,’ Gently said.

  ‘Shan’t keep you a moment,’ Empton said. ‘It’s to do with our Polish expedition, remember? The bloke who fired his gun so much.’

  ‘What about him?’ Gently said.

 
; ‘He’s in the morgue,’ Empton said. ‘We found him stiff and stark in Hackney. He’d been holing up there since last August.’

  Gently sucked. ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘Gas,’ Empton said. ‘In his bedroom.’

  ‘Was it suicide?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Empton said. ‘The door had been sealed on the outside. There was a rubber tube led in from the kitchen and poked underneath the door. He’d got the window closed, of course, the nights being rather chill. A very crisp little job. No prints, no witnesses.’

  ‘Do you know who did it?’ Gently asked.

  ‘But of course, old man,’ Empton said. ‘Nothing we can prove in the CCC, but we don’t do much of that in our line of business. Watch your papers after Christmas.’

  ‘Was it this Razek?’ Gently said.

  ‘Strictly sub judice,’ Empton said. ‘But you can draw any conclusions that seem good to you.’ He paused, and Gently heard him chuckle. You remember Mrs Lane?’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She was with him,’ Empton said. ‘Two single beds. She was on the other one.’

  ‘She was dead too?’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes, strangled,’ Empton said. ‘Yesterday, according to the medic. Been dead for thirty-six hours.’

  Gently stared out at the mist. ‘Any clothes on the body?’

  ‘None,’ Empton said. ‘Damned un-bourgeois, wasn’t it? Merry Christmas, old man.’

  DIPLOMAT DECLARED PERSONA NON GRATA

  ‘UNDESIRABLE ACTIVITIES’

  TO LEAVE WITHIN 24 HOURS

  And that was all, and soon forgotten in the scattered annals of the Road. The man who died there was briefly noticed because some people wanted to murder his killer. Not that it mattered very much, even in the country where it happened. People were being killed there every day without it being of great consequence. Certainly it mattered not at all to, say, the larger countries round about, and had no register beyond the Sun and in the less-trivial galaxies. Man is interesting but a little remote, and perhaps over-suicidal to be taken seriously. A terminal brightness in a dull corner may be his fraction of sidereal consequence. For he is seeded with self-destruction, he has a fuse of pride to his nations. He is a small race on a small planet and has the assertion-to-death of small creatures. He is a foolish animal without the law and his extinction merely curious. He was probably a biological mistake which fortunately was self-correcting. His vision extended North and South. But he saw nothing beside the Road.