Beware of Johnny Washington

by Francis Durbridge

  They had to move rather more cautiously now, for the flagstones were occasionally uneven. Presently, moving very quickly indeed, they came up to the lamp which stood on a small ledge about four feet high and six inches wide. It was only a small hand lamp, and had been turned fairly low, with the result that there was a pungent smell of paraffin. The glass container was almost full, so it could not have been burning very long.

  Verity stood beside him and silently indicated a flight of wooden steps about three feet away.

  ‘We’re right under the inn,’ breathed Johnny, and they moved over to the foot of the steps. Almost immediately, they heard a distant murmur of voices. Johnny pulled Verity back flat against the wall, and they stood motionless for a couple of minutes. The voices went on. Once, they heard the sound of a woman talking rapidly; then the men droned on.

  ‘I’m going up the stairs,’ he whispered at length.

  ‘Me, too,’ she said, clasping the crude wooden handrail that ran up one side of the stairs. They went very cautiously, a step at a time, and the voices from above became more and more distinct. Once, she trod on a stair that creaked like a crack of a whip, and they both stopped and held their breath for some seconds. Still the voices went on.

  Keeping well to the side nearest the rail, they presently reached the top and could discern the dim outline of a door. Johnny found they were looking through an opening at the back of the cupboard, which he remembered seeing in the club-room, and the door which they could see was that of the cupboard. So he had been right in his theory that the gang was using the club-room for their meetings.

  At first, he had some difficulty in catching what the people in the room were saying, because there was a long robe partly draped in front of the open panel at the back of the cupboard, and he was afraid to move it aside. Presently, however, the voices became much clearer, and he could even recognize them as belonging to Harry Bache, the innkeeper, Doctor Randall and Shelagh Hamilton. They had suddenly flared up in disagreement, and the voices were raised accordingly.

  ‘What really happened to Slim—that’s what I want to know?’ demanded Harry Bache indignantly.

  ‘Don’t be a damned fool,’ snapped Shelagh. ‘You read the papers, the same as the rest of us.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But they’re hushing somethin’ up. I got to know what really happened.’

  ‘All right, Harry,’ came the sardonic tones of Doctor Randall. ‘If you really want it straight, Slim had to be—taken care of. He was liable to talk.’

  There was a momentary pause while Harry Bache digested the information. Then he demanded hoarsely: ‘You mean it was—it was Grey Moose?’

  ‘He was killed, my dear Bache, by drinking from a flask, the contents of which were highly lethal. As to how the poison got inside the flask, the police can’t quite decide. They might even ask you some questions about it.’ Again, there was a pause. Then Harry Bache’s voice, very subdued:

  ‘I—I did fill his flask just before the Brighton job. But it was only Scotch whisky … I didn’t put nothing else in …’

  ‘We’ll take your word for it,’ came the suave tones of Randall. ‘Let’s hope the police will, too.’

  ‘Now look ’ere,’ began Bache angrily, ‘why the ’ell should I want to poison Slim? ’E’s always been a pal of mine.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that,’ replied Randall equably. ‘I’m only warning you that the police might ask awkward questions, so mind what you tell them.’

  ‘Never mind about that,’ retorted the landlord. ‘What I want to know is why Slim ’ad to be taken care of like that?’

  ‘Because,’ explained Randall patiently, ‘the police had persuaded him to talk.’

  ‘Who says so? How do we know?’

  Johnny thought Harry Bache sounded as if he had been drinking. His voice was thicker than usual, and the note of defiance in it obviously owed something to an external source of stimulation.

  ‘Never mind how I know,’ snapped the doctor. ‘You’re quite aware that we never take any unnecessary chances of that sort.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but you told us the same tale about the driver at Preston and the watchman at Gloucester. They did the blooming dirty work and then they were just wiped out.’

  ‘You know quite well the Preston man was a bungler who didn’t even trouble to wear gloves on the job. We couldn’t leave him in circulation with his fingerprints already in the files.’

  ‘And the night watchman?’

  ‘I’ll admit that was my fault. I gave the poor devil too large a dose of chloroform.’

  There was silence for a few moments. Johnny felt Verity’s hand near his and gripped it tightly. At length, they heard Harry Bache say:

  ‘Well, I dare say it sounds all right. But this Grey Moose cove is a sight too smart for my liking.’

  ‘So you think Grey Moose is too smart?’ It was a woman’s voice speaking now, and Johnny immediately identified Shelagh Hamilton as its owner. ‘It’s a lucky thing for all of us he’s as smart as he’s been these last few months. Otherwise, we should all be several thousand pounds worse off.’

  ‘That’s very true, my friend,’ confirmed the grim tones of Doctor Randall. ‘Now, let’s stop all this argument and get on with what we’re here for.’

  ‘Which is what?’ inquired yet another voice, which Johnny did not recognize.

  ‘If you’ll give me a little time, I’ll explain everything,’ retorted Randall acidly. ‘A few days ago, Grey Moose got the tip that the Brailsham Diamond was in the possession of Trevelyans, the Mayfair jewellers. Shelagh has been round there and taken a look at it, and it’s the genuine article all right.’

  ‘It’s too soon to pull another job right away,’ objected the strange voice. ‘We’ve been takin’ too many chances as it is.’

  ‘If you will allow me to finish what I was saying,’ continued the doctor bitingly, and the other man subsided.

  ‘Soon after Shelagh had been to Trevelyans, the chief telephoned to say that the Brailsham Diamond was a trap, and if it hadn’t been for him we should have stuck our necks right into it.’

  ‘Strewth!’ ejaculated the landlord, and there was an impressive silence for a few seconds. Then the strange voice asked:

  ‘What about Shelagh? How do we know she wasn’t spotted?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the girl. ‘I wasn’t the only one who inspected that stone. The man in the shop said there’d been twenty or thirty to see it.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Randall, ‘you’d better lie low for a while. The chief insisted on it.’

  ‘Yes, we don’t want to run into trouble so soon after the Brighton job,’ said Harry Bache. ‘I wonder whose idea it was to plant that rock.’

  ‘You can take it from me that it was Mr Johnny Washington’s scheme,’ rasped the doctor. ‘And you may rest assured that Mr Washington’s originality will be recognized—all in good time.’

  ‘’Ere, we don’t want no fancy tricks, Doc,’ said Bache, with a note of alarm in his voice. ‘Like that time you used the air bubbles …’

  ‘You leave it to me,’ snapped Randall. ‘I can handle these things.’

  Johnny felt Verity give a tiny shudder, and he clasped her hand reassuringly.

  ‘Well, I don’t want any more murders round my place,’ said Bache apprehensively.

  ‘You can rest assured you won’t be involved,’ Randall grimly assured him. ‘Now, the chief’s got another idea up his sleeve, and it’s going to be one of the biggest jobs we’ve tackled so far. He wants you all here on Saturday at ten sharp.’

  ‘Is he coming down himself?’ asked the landlord.

  ‘He’ll be here. And he’ll have the proceeds of the Brighton job—the stuff fetched a high price, so I hope everybody will be satisfied.’

  At this point, there were signs that the meeting was breaking up, so Johnny motioned to Verity to descend the stairs as quickly as possible. They made very little noise, and when they reached the bottom ther
e was no sign of anyone following them down. They hurried back along the passage as fast as they could go. Once, Verity slipped on the slimy flagstones, and Johnny caught her arm just in time. He judged it safe to switch on his torch again now, as there was less chance of their being seen from behind. After what seemed an age, they came to the lift, which was just as they had left it. Verity hurried in first and Johnny followed. This time, he had little difficulty in closing the panel, and the light switched on immediately, as it had done before. Once again, they heard the hum of the electric motor, and after a few moments they felt the lift moving slowly upwards.

  ‘It’s working all right,’ said Verity somewhat nervously.

  ‘I hope the gent upstairs hasn’t been in to see how we were getting on,’ nodded Johnny. At length, the lift stopped and the panel slid open. He peered cautiously out into the room beyond, which was quite empty. It seemed that their absence had passed unnoticed. Wasting no time, Johnny helped Verity out of the lift, and twisted the statue to close the panel. With a sigh of relief, he watched it slide gently back into position.

  ‘I guess that’s a weight off my mind,’ he murmured. ‘Now, it might lead to a little unpleasantness if they found us here when they got back, so we’d better get going.’

  He pressed the bell at the side of the fireplace, and presently they heard footsteps in the hall. When Lew Paskin reappeared, Johnny said with an air of an impatient caller:

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t wait for Doctor Randall any longer. Perhaps you’ll let him know I called; maybe I can fix up to see him tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll tell the doctor,’ replied Paskin, holding the door open for them and ushered them out into the hall. He wished them good night, and they heard the front door close behind them, followed by a slamming of bolts. Johnny and Verity stood for a moment taking in deep breaths of the fresh night air. They found it hard to realize that they had crammed so much excitement into the past half-hour. Then they walked slowly over to the car.

  ‘Well, things certainly went our way that time,’ mused Johnny, as he pressed the self-starter. ‘Though I guess it’s about time we had a break.’

  The engine roared into life, he slid into gear, and they moved off.

  ‘Have you time for a bite of supper at my place?’ he asked. She glanced at her wrist-watch and nodded.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then we can have a little talk and I’ll drive you back to Town afterwards.’

  Winwood opened the door for them and seemed in no way perturbed by the unexpected guest. In less than ten minutes he produced a tray of sandwiches and Johnny’s favourite coffee. Verity curled up on the rug in front of the blazing fire.

  ‘Verity,’ said Johnny presently, ‘I’m getting worried about you.’ She looked across at him.

  ‘I was just about to say the same thing about you,’ she confessed. ‘I couldn’t help hearing what Doctor Randall said about—“taking care of you” I think was the expression.’

  ‘I’ve handled plenty tougher customers than Randall,’ Johnny assured her. ‘But I don’t want you to be mixed up in this affair. It’s too tough for a nice girl like you.’

  She reached over and squeezed his elbow.

  ‘I’ve tackled some ticklish assignments in my journalistic career,’ she told him. ‘I’ve written up everything from the smuggling racket in the South African diamond mines to night life in Marseilles, so I know a few things about human nature!’

  But Johnny refused to be pacified.

  ‘That’s all very well, but these people stop at nothing; you’ve already seen that. You’ve got to be on the look-out every minute of the day, unless …’

  ‘Unless what?’

  He shifted uneasily in his chair.

  ‘I was wondering if you couldn’t take a little holiday; say a fortnight in Switzerland or the South of France. I reckon you could write your column just as easy from there.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that I could but I haven’t the slightest intention of going away just yet.’ Johnny drained his cup and reached for a cigarette.

  ‘I can’t for the life of me see why you want to be mixed up in this,’ he said.

  ‘Then I’ll tell you,’ she said firmly, locking her hands over her knees and looking him full in the eyes.

  ‘I intend to be mixed up in it because it is my affair as much, or more than, anybody else’s. Have you forgotten that Max Fulton killed my brother?’

  ‘I know, honey, I know. But why throw yourself into danger as well?’ There was a note of pleading in his tone.

  ‘It goes much deeper than that,’ she told him. ‘Right from the start of those robberies in Cape Town, I had the feeling that sooner or later I should be face to face with Max Fulton. I can’t keep running away from him.’

  ‘And what happens if you do meet?’ inquired Johnny. ‘How do you think you’d handle him?’

  She reached for her handbag, opened it, and took out a neat little .22 Redvers automatic.

  ‘I haven’t shown it you before,’ she said, ‘but I’ve been carrying it around with me since Gerald was killed.’

  ‘Sure, that’s all very well,’ said Johnny. ‘The point is, can you use it?’

  ‘I’ve been a member of a shooting club ever since I landed here,’ she told him. ‘I know it’s only a toy pistol, but I can use it lethally at any distance up to fifteen yards. So you see you can’t get rid of me as easily as that.’

  ‘I don’t want to get rid of you,’ Johnny fervently assured her. ‘I simply want to keep you out of harm’s way.’

  ‘Well, it’s very sweet of you, Johnny, but I’m afraid you’ve picked on a tough baby this time.’

  Johnny could not repress a grin, but he was obviously still worried. Verity poured him some more coffee.

  ‘At any rate, we know just how wise to us they really are,’ she consoled him. ‘What’s more, we’re certain now that Doctor Randall and his girl friend, not to mention that landlord, are in it up to the eyes. All we have to do now is close in on Grey Moose.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll see Sir Robert first thing in the morning,’ he decided.

  ‘And what will you suggest?’

  ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ he said seriously. ‘The Kingfisher will have to be raided on Saturday evening at all costs.’

  CHAPTER XVIII

  ‘THE BEST LAID PLANS …’

  THE following morning, as he drove along the country lanes, Johnny speculated idly on how the Brailsham Diamond ‘plant’ had leaked out. As far as he knew, the only people in the secret were high officials at Scotland Yard, Eric Trevelyan, Verity and himself.

  Where had the leak occurred? Could anyone have possibly overheard their conversation with Eric Trevelyan in that little pub off Bond Street? He had already telephoned Eric to ask if he had mentioned the matter to anyone else, only to receive a fervent assurance that he had not. Asked if his father might have let slip a careless word, Eric had insisted that the old man had been too scared about the whole affair to breathe a syllable to a soul. It seemed that Grey Moose had some mysterious source of information inside the enemy camp that always kept him at least one move ahead. Could they possibly keep the raid on the Kingfisher a secret?

  Parking his car just off the Embankment, Johnny walked past the Receiver’s Office and the administrative section until he came to the comparatively new C.I.D. building.

  As he had previously telephoned to make an appointment, he was admitted to Sir Robert’s room almost immediately, and he found the assistant commissioner looking just as worried as usual, with a varied assortment of files, letters and documents in front of him. He welcomed Johnny as if he were glad to get a few minutes’ relief from the concentration of his desk work; Sir Robert also realized by now that if Johnny Washington made an appointment to see him, it would most certainly concern some new development that would call for his full attention.

  Johnny lost no time in rapidly detailing his adventure of the previous evening. Sir Robert was plainly taken aback by the news that the
ir carefully laid trap baited with the Brailsham Diamond had so soon been sprung. For over ten minutes they discussed how this could possibly have come about without arriving any nearer a solution.

  ‘I don’t know what to make of that secret passage,’ said Sir Robert dubiously. ‘You don’t think it’s been made recently, do you, Washington?’

  ‘No, sir. It’s been there for many a long year I guess. Some sort of smugglers’ set-up between the old inn and the squire’s house maybe. You know more about these fine old English traditions than I do.’

  ‘Humph!’ grunted the assistant commissioner. ‘I wonder whether the fellow Quince knows anything about it. He’s supposed to be an expert in such things.’

  ‘Well, he’s staying at the inn, and he had a good look round that club-room on the night of the murder,’ said Johnny thoughtfully.

  ‘Are you quite certain he wasn’t there last night?’

  ‘If he was, he didn’t say a word,’ replied Johnny. ‘There was some guy there whose voice I didn’t recognize, but it was not Mr Horatio Quince.’

  ‘You don’t think Quince could have got wise to anything about the Brailsham Diamond last time he was here? There’s just a chance he might have overheard some remark as he came in or left this room. In that case—’

  ‘Quince would be the man we’re after,’ Johnny agreed. ‘But I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that, Sir Robert.’

  Sir Robert stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

  ‘No,’ he said with some reluctance, ‘I’m inclined to agree with you. All the same, there’s something a bit peculiar about this fellow Quince.’

  ‘He’s certainly worth watching,’ said Johnny. ‘But I’ve a feeling that the man we’re after is a bit nearer home than that.’

  ‘Home?’ queried the Assistant Commissioner, raising his eyebrows. ‘You don’t mean here?’

  Johnny shrugged.

  ‘It’s up to you, Sir Robert. I’m only reminding you of the facts. That Brailsham Diamond business was known to Miss Glyn, the two Trevelyans, myself—and a bunch of high-ups here at the Yard. You can take your choice. Maybe you think I’m playing in with this gang; in that case I shall just have to try to handle this job on my own …’