by James Munro
"The coroner," said Marshall.
"Old Slingsby? He wouldn't dare," Brady said. "He's scared of me. Did you know that? Doesn't seem possible, does it?"
"I don't know," Hoskins said. "You could scare a lot of people if you were in the mood."
"That's right," said Brady. "Now why shouldn't I tell the truth?" Marshall opened his mouth, and Brady held up his hand.
"No," he said. "Let's hear from your apprentice."
"You liked Craig," Hoskins said, and Brady nodded. "If you go shouting your mouth off again that he isn't dead, you're going to make things rough for him. Very rough."
"How?" asked Brady.
"I don't know," answered Hoskins. "If I did, I couldn't tell you. But I know it's true."
"Let me get this straight," said Brady. "I'm to keep my mouth shut because somebody you won't tell me about said it would be rough, in some way you can't specify, if I didn't. Is that right?"
Marshall sighed aloud.
"That's right," said Hoskins.
"All right," said Brady. "I'll do it." He swiveled in his chair and leered at Marshall. "You're strong on duty, Marshall, and I'm strong on pals. Somewhere between us there's a human being. Have a drink."
"We're on duty."
"So am I," said Brady. "But I don't boast about it." He reached into the desk again, and produced a bottie and glasses, then poured out three good ones. "Sweethearts and wives," he said. "May they never meet."
The telephone was shrill and complaining. Craig groaned into consciousness and looked down at Tessa, naked, vulnerable beside him, then padded into the lounge and picked up the phone.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Grierson said, "but the Demon King wants you. Now."
"Why?" said Craig.
"He didn't say, he never does. I'll be over in twenty minutes. Wait at the corner."
The phone clicked and Craig went to the bathroom, mixed Alka-Seltzer, held his head under the tap. He showered and dressed, then walked into the kitchen. Tessa was already there, making coffee. She wore the dressing gown he had bought her the day before.
"Very nice," said Craig. "Sexy."
He slipped his hand into the V of her neckline, and touched her body, still warm and moist from bed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know. Maybe nothing," he said. "Somebody wants to see me."
He took a cup of coffee and sipped cautiously. Hot and strong, the way he liked it. His hand curved on her body again, and he kissed her.
"I'll have to go," he said. "It's the big boy. I'm not supposed to keep him waiting." He looked at her face. Already she was afraid. "Don't worry," he said. "The job's over. You know that. There are always a few loose ends. I'll be back soon. Get yourself dolled up and we'll go out for lunch somewhere."
He reached for his coat and she held it for him, then drew it away.
"You haven't got your gun," she said.
"This bloke's on my side," said Craig. "I don't need a gun."
"Please," she said. Please. I'll worry if you don't." His finger was clumsy, and she had to buckle the straps in place for him. He took out the Woodsman, opened it, checked the ammunition, then put it into the holster and let her help him on with his coat.
"Am I properly dressed now?" he asked, and she moved into his arms, wincing as the gun pressed into her, but clinging to him even so. He left her and went down the stairs. Grierson's Lagonda was waiting, the engine running. Loomis might be worried after all.
"She died without any pain," Loomis said. "I'm not flanneling you, son. If it had been otherwise, I would have told you. You have a right to know." "Go on," Craig said.
"She came to just before she died. She said something about her brother being in the car. Only one bloke heard her. The surgeon. He's a gabby bastard, but he'll keep his mouth shut this time. You feel bad about it?"
"Rotten," said Craig. "It was my fault."
"That's right," said Loomis. "And now you've got another one to worry about."
"Nobody's touching her," said Craig, and the other two men looked at him quickly.
"Ah," Loomis said. "I hope not, son. Trouble is, I've got a bit more news for you, and it isn't all that good."
"It never is," Craig said. "Let's have it."
"Pucelli and Duclos got away," said Loomis. "There was a right cock-up at Turner's place, and we haven't got it all sorted out yet, but as far as I can gather it went something like this:
"Turner called that copper, Segur, and he got there first. Turner told him about the duel and claimed he didn't know why La Valere did it, except he was barmy. Said he must have meant to kill Ashford. So Segur pinched the two of them for murder and took them off. Then somebody else stepped in-never mind who-and Segur was taken off the case. They decided that you killed Ashford, and Turner and those two birds yelled bloody murder you didn't but by that time Pucelli and Duclos had been released. The last I heard, they'd disappeared. My guess is, they're looking for you, son."
Craig nodded.
"If they are, they'll come to London. Bound to. But they'll have a rough time finding you. We'll see to that. They've only got one lead. Your girl. They might trace her to Hakagawa's, but beyond that they'll never reach her because nobody knows where she is. Anyway, we'll keep an eye on her and you can stay here till we get them. It shouldn't take long."
"She'll have to stay here too," Craig said. Loomis shook his head.
"I can't do that," he said. "Sorry."
"Why not?" asked Craig. "Regulations? Are you running a monastery or something?"
"I'm tied hand and foot," said Loomis.
"You want her for bait," Craig yelled. "You lying bastard. You want her out in the open where they can see her."
"Suppose I did? She won't get hurt," Loomis said. "My wife did." "That was different."
"Was it? She was my responsibility too, remember. I'm going back to Tessa. If anybody's going to be bait, it'll be me."
"You'll only make it more dangerous for her," Grierson said. "Use your head, man. Nobody wants to hurt her. You're the only one they're interested in. If they do get to her, it'll only be to find out where you are."
"Yes," said Craig. "And Duclos has such a delightful way of finding out." He stood up. "Maybe I'm risking her life," he said. "All right. But I'll tell you something. I'm not a vain man, and I don't think I'm a boastful one, but I know this. Tessa would rather take her chances with me than be safe by herself. If I went to her and asked her she'd send me away, because she'd think it would be safer for me. So I'm not going to ask her. I'm going back to her. Now." He looked hard at the other two. "I've got a broken finger," he said. "But you'd better not try to stop me."
His good hand disappeared inside his coat.
"John. For Christ's sake," said Grierson.
Loomis chuckled, a fat, comfortable sound. "You really brought a gun with you?"
Craig brought it out, pointed it at the floor, at a spot halfway between the other two.
"You know, Craig, you're almost too good," said Loomis.
"Tessa made me carry it," Craig said, and Loomis chuckled again.
"That's better," he said. "Shows you're human. Like the way you worry about your girl. You've gone and got yourself involved-just like I told you. You have to draw up a balance sheet. All right. Go and see her. If you get yourself killed, it won't make things any worse for us. It may even make them better. The only reason I asked you to stay here was that I didn't want it to happen."
Craig's gun disappeared under his arm and he went out.
"He didn't even wait to say goodbye," Loomis said and chuckled again.
The red telephone on his desk shrilled out, and he picked it up, still chuckling. A voice quacked urgently, and his chuckling ceased. He swore vilely into the mouthpiece and banged down the phone.
"She's gone," he said. "Bolted down the tube like a rabbit down a burrow. We've got a woman tailing her. That Sanderson person. You'd better get after Craig quick. Got a gun?"
"In th
e car," said Grierson.
"All right. Get him-and stay with him. Keep calling in. Sanderson's pretty good. She should stay with the girl all right."
Grierson nodded, and ran for it, leaving Loomis to sit back in his chair and swear aloud. If Pucelli had got to her, he would kill without mercy, without caring who died, so long as Craig was among them.
CHAPTER 21
Sanuki Hakagawa knew very well where Tessa was. The two women had become friends in a short time, and when Tessa had been moved to Regent's Park it had been unthinkable that Sanuki should not be told. Not many people, and few of them are women, can bear to be alone as Loomis was alone. If Grierson had been in London when Loomis had moved Tessa to Regent's Park he would have told Loomis so, and asked for another woman, Sanderson perhaps, to go with her. But Grierson had been in Provence, and Loomis had had her moved out with dire warnings of what would happen to her if she told a living soul where she was. And of course she had told a living soul, just one. Sanuki. The only friend she had. Sanuki had to be told so that she could call Tessa up and Tessa could talk about Craig and how wonderful it all was.
When Sanuki telephoned that day, it was no surprise. Tessa had been going to call her anyway, to tell her that Craig was back and life was more wonderful than ever. Then suddenly it wasn't. Sanuki had news of the men who were hunting Craig. But she had hung up, and when Tessa had tried to call back, the line was busy. She had grabbed a coat, missed a taxi and run for the tube, and Sanderson had gone with her. Sanderson was good; a placid matron who exuded an air of domestic success, as if Yorkshire puddings rose for her at a snap of her capable fingers. She could follow anywhere because she belonged anywhere, and Tessa should have been easy. Yet she missed"her.
Tessa stood by the tube door throughout the journey and was out at South Kensington and running before Sanderson could move, and when Sanderson tried to follow, everything went wrong. The place was jammed solid, a fat man got in her way at the barrier, and she wasted seconds dancing around him, and Tessa caught the last taxi. It raced up the Cromwell Road and Sanderson went to a phone booth to hear Loomis swear.
When Craig went back to the flat in Regent's Park and found Tessa was gone, he told himself that it was stupid to worry. She might have gone shopping after all. When the phone rang, he scowled. He didn't want to talk to Loomis any more. He had enough on his mind. On the other hand, Loomis might have news. He picked up the receiver.
Duclos said, "She's here with us, Craig. Listen!"
And then Tessa's voice, shrill, hysterical, saying, "Don't listen to them, darling. Don't do anything-" The sound of a blow, a gasp of pain, and silence.
"You believe it was her?" Duclos asked.
"Yes," said Craig.
"We don't want her, we want you," Duclos said. Craig was silent. "If you don't do as we tell you, she will suffer," Duclos went on. "I promise you she will suffer. It all depends on how much you like her."
"I like her enough," said Craig.
"That's good. I have two other friends of yours too. Japanese friends. They would suffer too-if you-"
"What do you want?"
"Come and see us," Duclos said. "At your Japanese friend's house. Bring with you the money you stole from us. Come alone-or the girl will die. You realize that?"
"Yes."
"There are other things also that you must pay for. You know that, too?"
"Yes," said Craig. "But the girl has to go."
"You're all we want," Duclos said. "You and the money. Come now."
Craig hung up, then stiffened as the doorbell rang. He went to the door, unlocked it without opening it, and went into the bedroom. After a moment, he saw Grierson come in and look around the hall, then go into the dining room. Slowly, silently, Craig bent and put down the Woodsman on the bedroom carpet, where Grierson could see it. When he came into the bedroom, Grierson went to the gun at once, and stooped to pick it up. Craig struck, hard and accurate, with the edge of his hand. Grierson pitched forward on his face and Craig looked at him for a moment, took the suitcase containing the money, and left. Grierson would have been useful, but he was more interested in capturing Duclos and Pucelli than in saving Tessa. Grierson was a risk he could not justify. In the flat the phone rang seven times, then stopped. The caller was satisfied. Craig was on his way.
He took a cab, and got out at the end of Hakagawa's street. He walked down its quiet opulence, without thinking of anything at all except how to get Tessa out. What would follow, the torment and eventual death, was something that he had known would come. For a while once more there would be pain, searing, appalling pain, then nothing. Ever since he had started gun-running, there had been that possibility, and now it was fact. The taste of fear was like metal in his mouth, but he thought still only of Tessa and walked on. By his enemies' standards, he was a criminal coming at last to receive judgment; by their standards they themselves were righteous judges, punishing without bias and without hate. Yet of the two who thought themselves gentlemen, the two St-Cyriens, one had broken his pledged word, the other had cheated in a duel-they had failed the codes that bound them most strongly. And the two who survived were gangsters, sadists who wanted a Corsican revenge, and money. Always in the end they wanted money. Well, he had that for them at any rate. Ten thousand pounds. His own money, not theirs, but that wouldn't matter. It was what they wanted, and they wouldn't question its origins. The door was open. Craig looked around once at the street, then went inside. He was sweating with fear…
When Sanderson called, Loomis had no time to waste in swearing. Grierson had failed, that was obvious; otherwise he would have phoned in. It was equally obvious that Tessa was going to Hakagawa's. He sent Sanderson to watch there for Craig, and then called Linton at Scotland Yard. He didn't want to, but he had no choice; his own people weren't available. There were never enough of them. For aU its excellences, the Welfare State didn't produce many Craigs. Grierson, for instance. Careful, competent, marvelous with women, perhaps the best Loomis had, but even he lacked the iron drive that had kept Craig going for so long. Then there was his inside knowledge too. The poacher turned gamekeeper, the expert who'd seen his job from every angle. He couldn't let Craig be killed. He'd have to get him away from his woman, of course…
Tessa wasn't in Hakagawa's house, nor was Sanuki. Shenju was there, tied viciously to a chair, and Craig cut htm free, using the samurai knife, razor sharp and five hundred years old.
"They kept a gun on Sanuki," Shenju said. "Otherwise I would have killed them. But with a gun pointed at her – Then they made her phone Tessa-or, they said, they would kill me. You have a pistol. You must leave it with me, then I will tell you where to meet them."
"No pistol," said Craig.
"I'm sorry. I must search you."
Craig raised his arms and Shenju patted his body, slowly, carefully. Craig had put the Woodsman in the waistband of his trousers, at the back, where the bulge wouldn't show, but Shenju was thorough. His fingers touched the hard metal, and he sighed. Then he sensed the tightness in Craig's body, and sprang away, poised.
Shenju said, "No, John, you can't beat me. Not with a broken finger."
Slowly Craig relaxed, and there was an overwhleming agony in his face.
"Do you want me to beg?" he asked. "I'll beg. On my knees if you like."
Shenju said, "You have seen these men before-with women?" Craig nodded. "If Sanuki dies, I shall die too.
People always think that death is not important to a Japanese. They are wrong, John. It is very important… But I cannot allow myself to live if I fail her. And I cannot allow those men to harm her"
Craig said, "They may do that anyway. One of them enjoys it."
"There is always a chance that they may not," Shenju said, "if I do exactly what I am told."
"I want my girl to have a chance too," Craig said. He looked into the dark, fathomless eyes of the Japanese, waiting his fate, and Tessa's.
"All right," Shenju said. "Go to Knightsbridge station. They wil
l be waiting for you there. They know this house has been watched."
Craig stood up.
"When you go to them, Tessa will be allowed to walk away. If you try to cheat them, she will die."
"I won't risk her," Craig said. "They know that. Thanks, Shenju. I'm sorry I had to get you mixed up in this. I don't bring my friends much joy, do I?"
"In a year or so, you would have beaten me," the Japanese said. "The man who could do that and remain my friend has a right to what I have." His hand touched Craig's arm. "Remember all I taught you," he said. "I gave you great skill. Use it."
"If I can," said Craig. "But I'll have to wait until the women are out of it. Goodbye, Shenju."
For the only time since Craig had known him, the Japanese hissed and bowed in ceremony.
Craig went to look for a taxi, and Linton, his sergeant, and Sanderson followed him to Knightsbridge. It wasn't easy; Craig was as wary as a cat, but Sanderson was more alert this time. It was impossible, it was downright unnatural, to think of Sanderson as a secret agent.
Craig went into the station. Duclos was there, standing very close to Tessa, and Pucelli waited a little farther off. He looked pale, and moved his shoulder stiffly. Both men had their right hands in their pockets. When he saw Craig, Duclos signaled to Pucelli to watch Tessa, then walked over to him and took the case containing the money.
"You will follow us down," he said. "We have your ticket."
Craig followed them on to the escalator, past Berlei and Little X and Jantzen and Gossard; all the aloof and gorgeous girls in impeccable foundations, following another girl who looked ill and sloppy and needed him so much that he had to die. In the taxi he had transferred the Woodsman back to his shoulder holster. He needn't have bothered. There was no hope of using it if Tessa was to be freed.
