by David Field
Mallory sank back in his chair, his face ashen and his hands trembling. Finally, he found his voice.
‘I had suspected something for some time, since Millie was — well, she didn’t seem to — let’s just say that we’ve had separate bedrooms for some time.’
‘Around the time when she conceived the twins?’
‘There’s no need to rub it in — although that slimy bastard Bradley obviously did. Let me tell you a few things about that double dealing, two-faced hypocritical piece of pond life.’
‘I’m all ears.’ Percy smiled as he extracted his notebook.
‘For a start, the contract in Bethnal Green. We agreed on the formation of the company long before the Council agreed to the Boundary Scheme. It was in fact Bradley who persuaded the Council to go ahead with it, as a trial run for other schemes in the future, except of course that he didn’t exactly advise the Council that our company would be making heaps out of it, once we had the existing tenants out. And it was Bradley who produced that disgusting piece of humanity Michael Truegood to play the heavy stuff with those who refused to get out. We obviously, shall we say, “adjusted” the company account to make it look as if Bradley purchased his share in the business at a much later date.’
‘I’m not surprised to have the corruption confirmed, but I must admit that I had no idea that Bradley listed Truegood, or rather Maguire, among his friends.’
‘He didn’t, exactly. Some years ago, when we needed cheap labour for some earthworks out in Essex, where we were building houses, he had this inspiration to contact the local jails in an initiative to recruit prisoners who were about to be released, who were desperate for work. As you know, people are very reluctant to employ those with a prison record and the scheme worked very well, and very economically. During the course of that he got very friendly with a man who went on to be the Deputy Keeper at Newgate.’
‘Edmund Tillotson?’
‘That’s the man. Anyway, when we bought the properties in Bethnal Green and it was obvious that there’d be some resistance to the demolitions, Bradley contacted his old friend, looking for someone who’d be capable of scaring people into moving out. Tillotson came up with Maguire, or “Truegood”, as he decided to call himself. He was due to hang anyway and was only too happy to escape the noose with a bit of “inside assistance”, shall we say?’
‘So it was Tillotson who was behind Maguire’s jail break?’
‘You’d need to confirm that with Bradley, but that’s what he told me. He also said something about Maguire being employed to do away with you when you were getting too close to the truth. Unfortunately, it obviously didn’t work.’
‘Would you be prepared to testify to all this in court?’
‘It depends what it’s worth to me.’
Percy thought for a moment and reluctantly came up with a deal.
‘If you’re prepared to give that evidence, I think I can persuade my superiors that we can restrict the charge against you to one of defrauding your wife’s family trust. You probably won’t even go to jail, since your lawyer could argue that you’d been punished enough already. I take it that you’ll be struck off for defrauding a trust?’
Mallory nodded sadly. ‘Indeed, it’s difficult to imagine a worse offence by a man in my professional position.’
‘I obviously can’t promise anything, Mr Mallory, but I’ll have a word with the appropriate senior people at the Yard.’
The following morning, after being processed up through the levels, Percy found himself taking tea and biscuits with the Commissioner himself. Alongside him was a Senior Treasury Counsel called Humphreys, who’d been brought in as a consultant on the legal aspects of what Percy was proposing when he indicated in advance that it would be necessary to grant immunities from prosecution to a very prominent man in the legal profession and a former criminal associate of a man who was now dead.
‘I hope that what you’re about to tell us is as spectacular as you indicated to my aide, Sergeant. I know of your reputation as a hard-hitting and thorough thief-taker, but I’m advised that what you have to disclose is more in the way of a major scandal involving gross corruption in public office. I have a meeting booked with the Home Secretary for three o’clock this afternoon, so I hope that you aren’t about to disappoint me.’
‘So do I, Commissioner. But it’s rather a long and convoluted tale, I’m afraid.’
‘You have ten minutes, Sergeant.’
‘Very well. It’s all centred around what they call the “Boundary Scheme” in Bethnal Green. As you may well be aware, the LCC were under considerable pressure to demolish some of London’s worst slums and replace them with decent working class housing, following that Royal Commission Report.’
‘Yes, I think you can assume that I’m familiar with the politics, Sergeant, so just concentrate on the relevant bits.’
‘Yes, Commissioner. Well, anyway, Victor Bradley, who’s an Assistant at the LCC, with particular responsibility for building and urban planning, had for some years been operating joint venture schemes with a leading West End lawyer called Spencer Mallory — mainly out in Essex, building houses. Then, when various potential locations were identified for these new housing schemes in London itself, the two of them saw Bethnal Green as the most likely and they formed a company to reap the rewards if and when the contract was awarded.’
‘Was this company formed before or after the approval of the scheme by the LCC?’ Humphreys enquired from over his horn-rimmed spectacles.
‘Well before and that’s where the corruption begins. Bradley agreed with Mallory that Mallory would float the company and that Bradley would come in as an equal value shareholder, with a buy-in capital of twenty thousand, to match an equal contribution of twenty thousand by Mallory. I haven’t yet examined the true company accounts, but Bradley handed me a page from them that tended to suggest that his purchase came long after the award of the contract for the demolition of the existing slums to the company — “Gregory Properties”, it’s called. But Mallory’s prepared to testify that the payment from Bradley came much earlier than that, as no doubt the version of accounts held with the bank will confirm. The account sheet that Bradley showed me was just so much window dressing, it would seem.’
‘That point will need to be checked,’ Humphreys muttered as he made an appropriate note.
‘So, if you’re correct, Sergeant,’ the Commissioner added, ‘it would seem that we can prove that Bradley was a shareholder in Gregory Properties long before it received the contract and was therefore well placed to push his own interests when it came to the award of the demolition work. Is that the essence of his corruption?’
‘Basically, yes,’ Percy confirmed. ‘But in terms of criminal activity it gets much worse.’
‘Go on,’ Humphreys urged him, writing furiously in his notebook.
‘Well, as you might well imagine, the residents of the existing slums didn’t take too kindly to the suggestion that they might have to move on. Strange as it may seem, those who live in those hovels get very attached to them — literally, if they brush too tightly against the walls — and they began to insist that they were not for moving. By then, Gregory Properties, through Bradley’s close friendship with the Deputy Keeper of Newgate, had identified the very man to persuade them to move more urgently once the company had bought a square of hovels right where the Scheme was to be built, and installed this man — real name “Maguire”, but calling himself “Truegood” — as the rent collector for the time being, until the evictions began.’
‘You mentioned to my aide that the corruption extended to Newgate, Sergeant. Are we now getting to that bit?’
‘Indeed we are, Commissioner, if you’d just bear with me a while longer. This man Maguire was due to hang for murder some time over a year ago, along with a fellow prisoner called Grieves. But the jail records for that day show only one hanging and thanks to some eagle-eyed detective work by Constable Enright in Records...’
&nb
sp; ‘Your nephew, the one who got the bravery medal recently?’
‘The very same, Commissioner. He spotted that the physical description of the man hanged that day fitted Grieves rather than Maguire — they were physically very different — but that according to the jail records, the man who took the drop was Maguire. When I tackled the Deputy Keeper — a man named Tillotson — on that very point, he insisted that the man hanged was Maguire and that Grieves had suicided at roughly the same time. All those who die in Newgate are buried with a heavy dose of quicklime to hasten the decomposition, of course, so it was no use by then ordering the disinterment of Grieves.’
‘You’re suggesting that this man Tillotson faked the jail records and then allowed Maguire to slip away unnoticed?’ Humphreys interposed.
Percy nodded, while the Commissioner allowed himself a low whistle.
‘You weren’t exaggerating were you, Sergeant?’
‘Indeed not, but there’s more.’
‘We already have enough to prosecute both Tillotson and Bradley,’ Humphreys confirmed.
Percy shrugged his shoulders in a ‘maybe’ gesture. ‘That’s where I need the immunities, Mr Humphries. We only have Mallory’s evidence to prove that the buy-in by Bradley came before the contract was awarded to Gregory Properties. We can’t prosecute Mallory and rely on his evidence against Bradley at one and the same time.’
‘He wouldn’t be the first to employ a “cut-throat” defence against a fellow accused, but I get your point,’ Humphreys replied with a knitted brow. ‘Leave that point with me. But where’s our evidence against Tillotson? Was that his name, the jail person?’
‘That’s him — Deputy Keeper at Newgate. However, I took the precaution of arranging another jail break, this time netting Maguire himself as the man behind it. Along with Maguire we nabbed a man called Venables who was in on the entire thing and can point the finger at Tillotson when he goes to trial for his part in the break-out of a woman called Martha Crabbe, who unfortunately got away in all the confusion at the main gate of Newgate.’
‘Why can’t we use this man Maguire for the same purpose?’ Humphreys enquired.
Percy faked a grimace. ‘Unfortunately, he’s dead — done to death by a street mob in a most embarrassing incident outside Bethnal Green Police Station while he was being transferred to a paddy wagon to take him back to Newgate.’
‘According to the Inspector down there, you deliberately arranged for that to happen, Sergeant,’ the Commissioner interrupted him. ‘I have a very adverse report against you here on my desk and if you hadn’t coincidentally asked to see me today, I’d have been taking that point up with you. Whatever the truth of the matter, we no longer have Maguire, is that what you’re telling us?’
‘Correct, Commissioner.’
‘And you want an immunity for this Venables chappie?’ Humphreys added. ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult, if the current charge is a simple one of facilitating a prison escape and the prize is the prosecution of its Deputy Keeper.’
‘With respect, Mr Humphreys, we need more than that and in a sense less than that.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles, man!’ the Commissioner demanded. ‘You’ve already exceeded your ten minutes, by the way, but this is so fascinating that I’m prepared to run late for my next appointment. Carry on, but be brief.’
‘Well, to keep it brief,’ Percy continued, ‘Venables wasn’t just in on the jail break. He was present during a series of five murders in Bethnal Green when Maguire decided to demonstrate to those who were wavering about moving on that their immediate health might depend upon it.’
‘He murdered five people in order to put the frighteners on the waverers, you mean?’ Humphreys asked.
Percy nodded again. ‘Exactly. Venables assures me that he was simply there to make up the numbers and that Maguire did the actual murders and I have no reason to doubt him. But we can hardly expect Mr Venables to confess to five capital crimes and we need Venables’s statement — which I’ve already secured — in order to close the book on five murders and assure the good people of Bethnal Green that the reign of terror is over. That, plus the very public spectacle of Mr Maguire going to his maker under a pile of rocks hurled by the mob.’
‘So, you want to prosecute Venables just for his part in the jail break?’ Humphries asked.
Again Percy nodded. ‘Yes, and he’s happy to plead guilty to that if we drop the rest. Plus, of course, he can testify against Tillotson, along with a very frightened turnkey who got his orders direct from Tillotson and would sell his own grandmother rather than become a prisoner in his former place of employment. He knows what the conditions are like in there, of course, and he’s terrified of being locked into one of those communal cells with people he’s brutalised in the past from behind the safety of a set of bars.’
Humphries looked sideways at the Commissioner and nodded. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade the Attorney-General to go along with what the Sergeant here’s requesting. Congratulations, Sergeant, you’ve served the people of London most royally. Now if you’ll excuse me, Commissioner, I have to be at the Old Bailey by lunchtime.’
The Commissioner signalled for Percy to remain where he was while he escorted Humphries to the door, then came back and sat staring at Percy for a long silent moment.
‘You don’t entirely fool me, Sergeant, and there are times when your devious way of going about things scares the Hell out of senior officers here at the Yard. But you get results and it may be that we can use your talents for underhand manoeuvres and total disregard for regulations and protocol. I take it that you’ve completed your work down in Bethnal Green?’
‘More or less, Commissioner.’
‘Well get yourself back here, take a couple of days off and await further developments. And tell that nephew of yours that he’ll soon be back on two legs.’
Chapter Eighteen
‘Oi, you!’ Sergeant Ballantyne yelled as Jack did his best to slip a pile of completed Crime Summaries onto the sweetie counter without being spotted. ‘Where was yer yesterday afternoon?’
‘Out,’ Jack replied evasively while cursing himself for not having a story ready to explain his collaboration with Uncle Percy in the well lined streets of Kentish Town.
‘Obviously “out”, yer dodgy skilamalink. Out where, exactly?’
‘Kentish Town, Sergeant.’
‘Takin’ afternoon tea wi’ the minor nobility, was yer?’
‘No, Sergeant — assisting in an enquiry.’
‘What, an enquiry as ter ’ow many beers yer could sink?’
‘No, a proper police enquiry. You’ll no doubt be hearing about it soon.’
‘An’ you’ll no doubt be ‘earin’ pretty soon that yer out’ve ’ere on yer arse. I’ve given yer the benefit o’ too many doubts already an’ now yer in trouble. My report goes in this mornin’ an’ then yer can expect ter be makin’ a trip down ter the casual labour queue in the docks. Don’t fancy yer chances, though, wi’ only one leg. But yer finished in ’ere, so don’t bother takin’ up a valuable space down the corridor there. Just bugger off ’ome an’ tell yer wife that she’ll be takin’ in washin’ ter keep yer both fed.’
Jack wandered disconsolately back down the hallway to say goodbye to his colleagues. The one bright light on his horizon was the fact that Tim Kilmore appeared to be no longer preparing to grow tomatoes round his head and Jack smiled encouragingly as he opted to steal a couple of pencils from the supply on his former desk.
‘Morning, Tim,’ he said. ‘They cut your picture frame off, I see.’
Tim smiled back happily. ‘At least my young lady can kiss me again and the other good news is that I’ve been sent back to general duties with effect from the first Monday of next month. Sergeant Ballantyne’s looking for you, by the way.’
‘He found me, unfortunately,’ Jack grimaced, ‘and I got my marching orders.’
‘Tough luck,’ Tim commiserated, ‘but you have been taking rather a lo
t of time off lately. Will you be paid till the end of the week?’
‘No idea. I was just told to go home and await official notification that I’m no longer employed in the Met.’
‘Have you got any other plans?’
‘Apart from slashing my wrists, no. I’m just dreading telling my wife.’
‘Good luck anyway,’ Tim replied. ‘I’m going to miss you — and this place, funnily enough. Now it’s back to being sworn and spat at and mixing it with all the riff-raff that we have to arrest.’
‘Half your luck,’ Jack muttered as he turned to go. ‘For once, having a sergeant for an uncle didn’t save me.’
Back at home he announced the gloomy tidings to Esther as they sat at the tea table.
Esther put her arm over his shoulder and kissed him.
‘At least I’ll have you home more often. But as soon as Uncle Percy gets here I’ll have to leave you with Alice, when she comes down. I wasn’t expecting you home, obviously, so I asked Alice to mind the children while I go off on this babysitting expedition of my own that Uncle Percy seems to have all planned for me. Bethnal Green this time — I hope it’s a bit better than its reputation.’
‘Will you have time for dinner before you go?’ Jack said solicitously and Esther smirked back at him.
‘Have you learned to cook?’
‘I was thinking of sandwiches. I could make some for Alice too. Are there any biscuits in the tin?’
‘Yes, and I’ve counted them. Alice normally takes only one with her tea and you’re allowed two. There had better be seven left when I get back.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘No idea, but leave Alice to bathe the children and put them to bed. We don’t want to be accused of child neglect.’
‘That’s someone at the door.’
‘I know — I haven’t gone deaf. Let’s have a guessing competition.’
‘An extra biscuit says it’s Uncle Percy.’
‘One less biscuit says that it’s Alice.’
