‘REMEMBER WHAT THEY SAY IN THE RECRUITING POSTERS, FFOLKES,’ Cobb shouted over to him, ‘IT’S MORE THAN JUST A JOB, IT’S AN ADVENTURE!’
That did it, that tipped Ffolkes over the edge. His face went from deathly white to a cherry red colour as the blood crept back into his face. He stood up and came over to Cobb and Benton, quivering with barely suppressed rage. He had frozen in the face of danger and Cobb had had to save him and to make things worse, he knew that Benton and the constables had witnessed his humiliation.
‘Sgt. Benton, I want you to arrest Cobb on charges of obstructing the course of justice and endangering the life of a suspect!’
Benton cleared his throat politely, ‘With respect sir, you’d never make it stick and he did save your life. It would be a little uncharitable to charge him after that.’
Ffolkes stared at the two of them wordlessly for a moment then turned on his heel and left. Cobb watched him go and said to Benton, ‘If he can’t take a joke … he shouldn’t have joined the force.’
Benton replied, ‘By the Gods Cobb, you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut do you? Do you like living dangerously? I know you don’t like him but there’s no need to make an enemy out of him.’
‘He doesn’t worry me. You see George, the trick is … when you’ve got nothing to lose, you’re not afraid to lose it.’
Benton looked at him sympathetically and said, ‘Let me lock up these bad guys and then I’ll meet you for a drink … The Rat and Trumpet?’
‘No, I’m out of favour there at the moment, after the other night. Make it the Dancing Ferret.’
‘Okay. Come on let’s go, I’d better take Ffolkes back to the Yard in case he gets lost on the way.’
They stood up. Cobb retrieved his overcoat and followed Benton down the fire escape.
***
Cobb woke up painfully next day. He and George Benton had had a late night at the Dancing Ferret. Several members of Cobb’s old squad had come along as well to celebrate the successful operation they had carried out that day. Cobb had a great time reliving the old days, swapping memories with the lads.
Later that day, Cobb decided to go out for the evening. Walking along the streets he noticed how empty they were. It was early evening on a damp autumn day. The thick Londum smog, a combination of the smoke from thousands of coal fires and the fog rolling in from the River Isis, had come down blanketing the town, what was known locally as “a Brown Windsor souper”. The day people, the workers, the street hawkers, the beggars, had long gone home and the night revellers had not yet begun to come out to play.
As he turned into the alley that would take him to The Laughing Fish (he was still banned from the Rat and Trumpet) he noticed a horse drawn wagon at the far end, partially blocking the exit. It wouldn’t stop him getting out of the alley but he would have to go around it. Two men were unloading something from it.
Cobb was about half way down the alley when he heard footsteps entering the alley behind him. Damn it! He’d been caught out like a rank amateur. He searched his pockets for a weapon but all he had was a half bottle of whiskey. That would have to do. Still walking casually as if unaware of the impending trap, Cobb lengthened his stride to get him nearer to the exit of the alley before the action started. When he noticed the men at the wagon stop what they were doing and look in his direction he knew that the other men were directly behind him. He pulled the bottle from his pocket and whirled round to face the ones coming at him from behind. To Cobb’s surprise they immediately backed off. Then he felt the cold gun barrel press into the nape of his neck and the deadly ‘SNICK’ of it being cocked. Damn, they were fast.
‘Drop the bottle Mr. Cobb. Nobody here is going to hurt you. Somebody just wants to have a word with you.’
Cobb dropped the bottle and relaxed his arms. Two men grabbed his arms while another one expertly patted him down from head to foot for any other weapons he might be carrying. When he finished, he stood up and nodded to the two men holding Cobb.
Cobb said to the man who had frisked him, ‘Don’t you ever touch me like that again without buying me dinner first.’
Nobody smiled. Tough crowd, thought Cobb.
The one with the gun, the spokesman said, ‘Like I said Mr. Cobb, somebody just wants to have a quiet word with you. We don’t have any instructions to harm you, so if you don’t do anything stupid, you won’t get hurt.’
‘Instructions from who?’ said Cobb.
‘My employer.’
‘And who might that be?’
‘The man who pays me not to answer questions like that.’
Cobb dropped the subject, as it was obviously a fruitless exercise. Besides, he would find out soon enough.
They bound Cobb’s hands behind his back and put a bag over his head. Then they took him into the back of the wagon. They sat him down and then two of them sat either side of him in case he made a break. The wagon set off and bumped its way over the cobbled streets. Soon, Cobb could tell they had left the city as the cobbled streets had died away and were in a more rural area. After what seemed like several hours, the wagon pulled to a stop and they manhandled Cobb out of the back. They marched him up some steps, down a corridor and into a room. They untied his hands and as he fumbled to remove the hood he heard the door close.
When he pulled off the hood, he was alone in the room. He tried the door just out of curiosity but as he expected it was locked. He looked slowly around the room. The furniture and fittings were very expensive. This was the home of someone of wealth and position. He looked around for any pictures or personal effects that might give him a clue to whose house this was but there were none. He did find a drinks cabinet however so he helped himself to a large brandy. Cobb figured that whatever they were going to do to him, a few brandies would make it less painful.
As Cobb was pouring himself a second brandy the door opened. Cobb looked round. The man who entered was oriental, probably Cantonese. There was a large population of Cantonese in Londum, so many that the area they lived became known as Canton Town. He was about five feet, six inches tall and built like a brick outhouse. The man was like a barrel with arms and legs, with a football on top. He looked like a strategically shaved bear.
On top of the football was perched a bowler hat which he removed, revealing a bald head which shone in the gaslight. The only hair on his head was a toothbrush moustache above a thin, unsmiling, slit of a mouth.
‘Me, Won Lungh,’ said the barrel.
Cobb said, ‘What?’
The man tapped his chest and said again, ‘Won Lungh.’
Cobb thought one lung? Why’s he telling me his medical history? He said out loud, ‘Surely you have more lungs?’
‘Yes,’ said Won Lungh, ‘there are whole family of Lunghs, back home.’
They stared at each other in silence for a few moments; each convinced that the other was mad.
‘You come with me now,’ said Won Lungh turning to the door. As Cobb reached for the brandy bottle to clout him with, Won Lungh said, ‘Don’t try anything, I have eyes in back of head.’
Cobb doubted that, as the man didn’t even have a neck in the back of his head but he left the bottle anyway.
Cobb followed Won Lungh down the corridor. Opening a door and standing aside, he ushered Cobb into a room. Cobb walked in apprehensively; he had a bad feeling about this, which was confirmed as soon as he saw the room’s solitary occupant.
‘Quist!’ gasped Cobb.
‘Good evening Inspector, ah excuse me, Mr. Cobb,’ said the man seated behind the desk. ‘Please, take a seat.’
Cobb sat down in the chair facing the desk, dimly aware of the Won Lungh closing the door and stationing himself in front of it. There was a small table next to the chair with a brandy decanter and a glass on it.
‘Who’s he?’ said Cobb, jerking a thumb over his shoulder indicating the Cantonese beer barrel.
‘That is Won Lungh,’ said Quist.
Ah … Won Lungh, I get it now, thoug
ht Cobb. ‘And what does he do?’
‘He’s my butler, bodyguard, you could say he’s my general factotum.’
What an Odd Job, thought Cobb. Aloud he said, ‘I could but I don’t use language like that.’
‘Please, have a drink,’ said Quist. ‘I understand that’s your favourite pastime these days.’
Cobb poured a drink to give himself time to think.
The man seated the other side of the desk was Marcus Quist, or Marcus Aurelius Quist, to give him his full name (or as Cobb privately called him, Slimy Git). One of the leading underworld figures in Albion, possibly in the world. Quist and his organisation didn’t dirty their hands on little things like drugs and prostitution or protection rackets; they went for the big stuff like bullion heists, art and jewellery thefts, blackmail and political assassinations. Cobb had tried for years to put him away when he was on the force but despite coming close a few times, had never managed it.
Cobb’s mind flashed back to the last time their paths had crossed. Cobb and his team had been working on a murder case, that of the owner of a shipping company. Due to several weeks of good old, hard, detective work, pounding the streets, questioning suspects and sifting through the evidence, they pinned it down to one man as the perpetrator. They arrested that man and it turned out to be one of Quist’s employees, a certain Billy Fargoe.
Of course, like all of Quist’s men who were captured, Fargoe wouldn’t talk. But then Cobb had made him an offer. The evidence against Fargoe was conclusive, he would surely be found guilty and then he would hang. However, in exchange for his testimony in court incriminating Quist, Cobb would speak to the judge and could arrange for his death sentence to be commuted to life imprisonment. It wasn’t much but at least he would still be alive.
Fargoe caved in and told them everything. The shipping company owner had been resisting Quist’s requests to smuggle certain goods in and out of Albion on his ships. Quist had finally lost his patience and had personally given the order to Fargoe to kill him. Just like that, no hinting, no beating around the bush, but just plain issued the man’s death sentence. And Fargoe was willing to stand up in court and testify to that.
Cobb was overjoyed. All his years of trying to bring Quist to justice were about to come to fruition. He had gone to a judge who he knew was not on Quist’s payroll and got him to sign a warrant for Quist’s arrest. To avoid the possibility of word getting out and Quist being forewarned, without telling anyone where they were headed, he loaded up his team into the police wagon and he sat beside the driver and gave directions, street by street, until they arrived at their destination. He and his team had then raided Quist’s headquarters in South Londum and nicked the lot of them, Quist and all his gang.
Cobb had looked on with pleasure as the cell door closed behind the arch-villain as they locked him into a cell by himself, separated from his men. He and Cobb had locked eyes through the grill as Cobb personally locked the cell door. As Cobb expected, Quist sat on the bunk, saying nothing, maintaining his cool composure, although Cobb figured he was quietly raging inside. He tried to make it appear as if it was nothing but a minor irritation to him instead of the possible end to his criminal career, not to mention his life.
‘You won’t keep me in here you know,’ said Quist.
‘Going to escape are you?’ Cobb asked him.
‘As soon as my lawyer gets here you’ll have to release me.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. We have you on conspiracy to commit murder. And we deem you a serious flight risk, so you won’t be getting any bail, either. So you’d best make yourself comfortable, you’re gonna be here a while.’
‘We’ll see about that. I haven’t killed anyone.’
‘No but you gave the order. It was on your instructions, so in the eyes of the law that makes you just as guilty as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself.’
‘You’ll live to regret this Cobb.’
‘Possibly but once your trial is over, you won’t. It’ll be a hanging for certain.’
At that point Quist had looked away and refused to converse any longer. Cobb left him to feel sorry for himself and went to return the keys. Cobb smiled to himself with satisfaction as he handed the keys to the custody sergeant. A job well done. However, all was not that simple.
Cobb and his team spent the next day interrogating Quist and those of his men who had been arrested. As expected, a team of lawyers turned up next day and were present at every interview where, not surprisingly, nobody talked. Cobb didn’t mind though, they had Fargoe’s statement to ensure that Quist went to the gallows, if they couldn’t nail the others, then so be it. There would be other times.
As Cobb made his way home that night, he was in a cheerful mood. Maybe he should take Esme out to celebrate? They hadn’t been out for a while and he had earned it. He was lost in his thoughts so he didn’t notice the two men until they were right on top of him.
‘Excuse me, sorry to bother you, I wonder if you have a moment?’ said one of them.
‘Yes, could you spare a moment for a chat, Inspector?’ said the other, carelessly.
That’s when Cobb knew he was in trouble. They had given the game away by calling him Inspector. As usual he was in civilian clothing, so they could only have known he was a policeman, let alone an inspector, if they already knew who he was. This meeting wasn’t a coincidence.
‘What can I do for you?’ asked Cobb.
‘Well, we’ll come right to the point. Mr. Quist is a very generous man and he would like us to tell you that if you can find a way to make this conspiracy to commit murder charge go away, you would find yourself a very rich man and you would have Mr. Quist’s eternal gratitude and friendship.’
‘And if I say no?’ Cobb asked him, sliding his hand into his overcoat pocket where he always carried a truncheon in a special sheath, sewn into the lining.
‘Well,’ said the other man, ‘In that case, you will find yourself in a great deal of trouble and possibly your family too.’
‘I see, said Cobb. ‘What are you two playing, bad guy and slightly less bad guy? One of you offers me money and the other offers me a quick death?’
‘Something like that,’ said the one who had offered the money, the ‘slightly less bad guy’. ‘You see it’s all about-’ that was as far as he got before Cobb brought the truncheon down on his head. As he collapsed to the floor the other one tried to pull a gun out of his jacket pocket but failed when Cobb cracked him on the arm with the truncheon and he lost all feeling in it. Cobb kicked his feet out from under him and when he fell to the floor, Cobb took his gun away and cuffed his hands behind his back. Then he stood up and blew his police whistle to summon assistance.
The man tried to sit up but Cobb put his foot in his chest and pushed him down again. ‘When you see Quist in the exercise yard, tell him the answer’s no!’
Over the next few days they tried to get Quist to admit his part in threatening Cobb but his lawyer said it was ‘overzealous employees’ and that he had no part in it. It didn’t matter, thought Cobb, you’re going down.
Alas, it was not to be. Word came down from the prison that Billy Fargoe had been found dead, hanging in his cell. Cobb was furious, he had given orders that Fargoe was kept in solitary confinement but they had still gotten to him. Without his testimony they couldn’t hold Quist. The Attorney General himself said that even a written statement by Fargoe, which they also had, would not stand up in court as any decent brief would claim it was the ramblings of a seriously disturbed person. The fact that he had apparently killed himself was proof of his mental instability. Eventually Cobb had to give in and let Quist go.
Cobb went and unlocked the cell door himself and told him the news that he was free to go. As Quist left the cell, he said to Cobb, ‘This isn’t over you know, we will meet again.’
And now here he was.
Cobb looked Quist over as he sipped his drink, it had been a few years since Cobb had seen him last but he hadn’t changed much. Qu
ist had put on a few more pounds; he was beginning to develop jowls. His waistcoat, although exquisitely tailored, didn’t hide the paunch he had grown. Obviously he didn’t get enough exercise counting his ill-gotten gains. There were also a few more grey hairs in his neatly trimmed hair.
‘So what’s this all about Quist? Time to take your revenge? Going to have your Cantonese friend ruin my day? You’ve waited a long time for this, why now?’
‘Oh no Cobb, you don’t have to worry about that. No one is going to hurt you. I had you brought here because I’m going to offer you a job.’
‘Are you mad?’ said Cobb. ‘I wouldn’t work for you, you’re a crook! I may have left the force but I didn’t leave my morals behind at the Yard.’
‘You misunderstand me; I want to hire you in your capacity as a private detective. That is what you do for a living now, isn’t it?’
‘Why do you want to hire me? I spent most of my time at the Yard trying to send you down.’
‘But you never succeeded, did you?’
‘Oh I came very close several times but somehow the evidence would always disappear or the witnesses would suddenly refuse to talk.’
‘Yes, you were a very good detective, one of the best. But you were always fair. Some policemen would have manufactured evidence to secure a conviction against me but not you. I knew that you would get me honestly or not at all. You also resisted my best attempts to bribe you. That’s why I want to hire you. You’re the only one I would trust to do this job.’
‘Well thank you for the testimonial but I’m still not going to work for you.’
Quist leaned forward and resting his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together. ‘Please Cobb … I need your help. My daughter’s missing,’ he said earnestly.
‘Your daughter? I didn’t know you had a daughter.’
‘Of course you didn’t, nobody did. I kept it a secret for her protection. In fact only Won Lungh and I know about her. Not even the men who brought you here tonight, know why you’re here. I have too many enemies out there that would hurt her to get at me. I couldn’t allow that to happen so I hid her existence away all these years.’
Split Infinity Page 8
