Policeman's Progress

by Bernard Knight

  ‘The Vidette will get them!’ yelled Milburn and even as he said it, the bigger launch dropped back and swung around, its searchlight blazing.

  Alec and the sergeant dragged Ernie Leadbitter back on to the slightly wider space at the stern and propped him against the oil drums, hooking one arm through the lashings. He was conscious but dazed, managing to wave them feebly away.

  ‘You’ll be all right here, Ernie – hang on to these drums,’ hollered Milburn into his ear, then followed Bolam back to the cockpit.

  ‘You take the other side,’ ordered the CID man and in a moment they were standing one each side of the closed flaps in the black canvas canopy.

  Bolam was on the port side and could see Jackie dimly though the plastic side-screen. They were well clear of the river now and the only light came from the reflections of the dim navigation lamps and intermittently from the great beam of the North Pier lighthouse, now just ahead of them.

  In the glow from the instrument panel, Jackie could be seen wrestling with the wheel as the Bella bucked and pitched in the choppy swell. He was on Bolam’s side and the detective put his face to the flexible screen and yelled at the top of his voice.

  ‘All right, Jackie – pack it in! Joe’s gone and you can’t get anywhere from here … turn her around and go back!’

  The answer was a thunderous punch against the canvas, which caught Bolam on the forehead, making him see stars in the overcast sky.

  ‘Right, if that’s how you want it!’ he retorted, his temper suddenly in flames.

  Part of the canopy was a flap, held down by big press studs. He ripped this open, yelled across the roof to Milburn, then threw himself inside, virtually on top of Jackie Stott.

  He collected a terrible punch in the first second, but managed to turn his head so that it landed on his neck instead of his face. The momentum of his entry made Jackie stagger away from the wheel and Bolam, half-crazed with the pain in his neck, lashed out and caught Stott a lucky blow in the eye.

  Though Jackie had had a hundred of these in his time, Alec Bolam was a powerful man and was not wearing boxing gloves. The blow shook Jackie and before he could recover, Milburn had clambered in from the other side and jumped on Stott from behind.

  The Bella, with throttles wide open but no one at her wheel, careered around until she was in the trough of the waves. They were just passing through the pier entrance into the open sea and the rollers were coming straight across from Norway at them. It seemed touch and go whether she would capsize or crash into the granite wall of the lighthouse foundation, but Milburn, the sailor-policeman, was well aware of the danger.

  ‘The wheel!’ he screamed, ‘swing her to starboard … the right, man!’

  Mike forgot the niceties of rank in the heat of the moment and a second later, he forgot everything else, as Jackie broke free and landed him a terrible punch in the stomach.

  As Bolam grabbed the helm, the other two men fell down the narrow steps leading to the cabin below. This gave him a few seconds respite, but he realized that Jackie would soon be on him again. He groped hazily for the throttles. The boat was almost touching the pier, the lighthouse above throwing its yellow beam twenty miles out to sea, indifferent to the drama at its feet.

  Bolam was saved by the appearance of Leadbitter at the opening alongside. Shaken and grey – he was later found to have a fractured jaw – he stumbled in and grabbed the wheel, pushing Bolam in the direction of the two combatants.

  Jackie was now rolling in the narrow companionway, on top of a vomiting Mike Milburn.

  Bolam had gone far beyond caring about a clean fight. He jumped with both feet into the stairwell, landing his big brogues squarely on Jackie Stott’s head.

  The boxer, who was just getting up, crashed back against the floorboards and lay still.

  The fight was over.

  When Leadbitter brought the motor cruiser back into the lee of the north pier and the Vidette came alongside, Jackie was still unconscious.

  The two police launches arrived, having made heavy weather of the trip across to the lighthouses. Horace came aboard and took over the controls of the Bella from the injured Leadbitter. Everyone else transferred to the Vidette which made the return trip looking like a hospital ship.

  Jackie Stott began to groan himself awake after five minutes; Mike Milburn continued to retch for another ten. Ernie Leadbitter began to bleed from his injured mouth, while Joe Blunt and Jimmy Grainger were still incoherent with cold after their brief dip in the freezing water.

  At the Mill Dam jetty, a reception party was waiting to escort them into the River Police Headquarters. MacDonald, Potts and several other senior officers watched incredulously as the casualties were brought ashore.

  MacDonald’s first comment just about summed up the whole adventure. ‘Potts, man, you’d better cancel that Black Maria and call an ambulance!’

  At two o’clock that morning, Jimmy Grainger sat huddled in the Bolams’ lounge, drinking whisky and hot water. He wore his boss’s dressing gown whilst Alec rummaged upstairs for a set of underclothing and a suit to replace Jimmy’s own saturated outfit.

  ‘Very good of you, Mrs Bolam, to take all this trouble!’ he said, crouching thankfully over the fire. The icy waters of the Tyne’s entrance still seemed to be in his bones and his teeth had only just stopped chattering.

  Vera answered with a flippant brusqueness. ‘I’m used to young folk cluttering the place up half the night!’

  She felt surprised at her own pleasure at the opportunity to fuss over someone. It was years since Betty had been young enough to coddle and she had always been an independent, distant child.

  Betty sat opposite now, upright and rather prim.

  Bolam’s voice came down the stairs, yelling, ‘Vera, where the hell can I find some underpants for him?’

  His wife sighed and went out, leaving the young people alone. There was a long silence, not an awkward one as far as Jimmy was concerned. He began to feel dozy and contented with the whisky and the fire and the success of the night.

  ‘I’m sorry I slapped your face, Jimmy,’ said Betty suddenly.

  He grinned at her. ‘Aw, forget it … it was nothing compared to the punch old Joe Blunt gave me tonight.’ He touched his elbow gingerly. ‘I should have let the old devil drown, but he sounded so pathetic when we fell into the drink – yelling for his mother. Couldn’t swim a damn stroke!’

  Betty loosened up a little. ‘Must have been awful – what will happen to them now?’

  ‘Life for Jackie Stott – which means about ten years in the nick, I suppose. Don’t know what Joe will get, but with his record of violence, he can’t expect to get much less.’

  Alec and Vera came back into the room, laden with clothes.

  ‘We’re about the same size, Jimmy, these’ll do till you get home.’

  Bolam sounded almost too hearty and Vera looked at him sharply.

  ‘You can’t go mucking about in that bachelor hovel of yours, still soaked to the skin,’ he continued. ‘You want to get yourself married off, if you’re going to make this midnight swimming a regular thing.’

  Alec said this without a flicker of his eyes towards Betty. Grainger stood up.

  ‘Thanks a lot – what’s the drill for tomorrow – today, really?’ he asked, looking at the clock.

  ‘A special court at ten thirty – get Joe and Jackie remanded in custody. Abel Lupin won’t be able to talk them out of this one!’ he added with satisfaction. ‘I heard on the way back that Hansen is improving a lot, so with luck we’ll have him giving evidence before long – that’ll really put the mockers on our two pals!’

  Vera looked from one to the other. ‘Will Hansen be charged with anything?’

  Bolam shrugged. ‘Probably – up to the DPP, but he was in pretty deep with Papagos and Casella. He’s been concealing evidence about a murder and involved in a conspiracy to obtain money by menaces … I reckon he’s for it!’

  Alec’s wife was interested in all
the intrigues, though she normally avoided giving her husband the satisfaction of knowing it. ‘What about the woman, this Laura Levine?’

  ‘I don’t know if they’ll “do” her for anything – she concealed knowledge of Geordie’s murder for a short time, but I can’t see the DPP flogging himself over that charge.’

  Jimmy clutched his dressing gown around him decorously. ‘It’s those two crooks from London that worry me … they’re such a slippery pair. We’ve no guarantee that Hansen will drop them in it when he recovers. He might deny all Laura said! Those two yobs are powerful enough to terrorize him in or out of prison, even if they’re doing a stretch themselves.’

  Bolam nodded in unhappy agreement. ‘MacDonald’s afraid of that too – when Hansen wakes up, he’s going to be in a terrible dilemma – either spill all the beans in the hope of getting a light sentence and then wait to be pushed under a bus by one of Papagos’s boys – or keep his mouth shut and have the book thrown at him by the DPP and the trial judge!’

  ‘Serve him bloody well right!’ growled Jimmy and went upstairs to change into the dry clothes.

  Vera went into the kitchen to look for some shoes for him.

  Betty Bolam studied her fingernails carefully.

  ‘And what will happen to Freddie Robson?’ she murmured so quietly that her father could hardly hear her. ‘Is he still locked up?’

  To her surprise, Alec gave a chuckle and patted her shoulder. ‘As far as I know, pet, he’s sitting in his squalid bedsitter and has been since we left there this afternoon.’

  Betty stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But Jimmy took him off to be charged with abduction!’

  Bolam gave a deep belly laugh this time. ‘Like blazes – he took him around the corner and gave him a good shaking and the best talking-to he’s ever had in his life! Threatened him with prosecution of abduction, corruption, conspiracy and drug trafficking … none of which we had either the right or the evidence to pin on him!’

  His voice hardened. ‘Don’t think it’s not serious, Betty – it is! But if Freddie comes around here asking for you, you can have him! I say that because I know he damn well won’t … and if he should, I sincerely hope that Jimmy Grainger isn’t around. I’d hate to have to arrest my own sergeant for manslaughter!’

  Betty listened to the sound of big feet tramping down the stairs and said nothing.

  The Sixties Mysteries

  by

  Bernard Knight

  The Lately Deceased

  The Thread of Evidence

  Mistress Murder

  Russian Roulette

  Policeman’s Progress

  Tiger at Bay

  The Expert

  For more information about

  Bernard Knight

  and other Accent Press titles

  please visit

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by Robert Hale Ltd 1969

  This edition published by Accent Press 2016

  ISBN 9781910939925

  Copyright © Bernard Knight 1969, 2016

  The right of Bernard Knight to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN