Mad About the Boy?

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  ‘All the best,’ repeated Smith-Fennimore, answering Haldean’s tentative smile with the ghost of a grin. ‘Don’t worry.’ His eyelids flickered shut. ‘Lord, I’m tired.’

  The ambulance drove off. Rackham heaved a sigh. ‘I think we got to him just in time. What do you want to do now?’ He gestured across the road. ‘We could go and have a word with your gun-shop man and see if that’s where Gerasimov did buy his knife.’

  Haldean shook his head. The sight of Smith-Fennimore had shocked him so much he was finding it difficult to put his thoughts in order. ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘You’ll have to do that, Bill. You’re official. You can ask questions. I can’t.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Rackham cheerfully. ‘Buck up, Jack. You heard what the doctor said. He’s very sound, Dr Crimmond. Your friend’ll be fine. I suppose we’d better get back to the Yard. You need that translation, apart from anything else. After all, that’s what you came for.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Haldean dully. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  It was gone ten o’clock before they finally arrived back in Stanmore Parry, after what, with Ashley at the wheel, seemed like a horribly slow journey.

  As he drove the car into the stable yard at Hesperus, Ashley looked at Haldean’s strained face with concern. His eyes were haunted and he had said little on the way back. The trip to London had taken it out of him all right. ‘Are you sure you want to be around tonight?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you’d be better off in bed rather than sitting on the beach in the cold.’

  ‘And miss out?’ said Haldean with an attempt to summon up his old spirit. ‘Don’t be silly. Besides that, I couldn’t sleep. Not now.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Ashley climbed stiffly out of the car, glad to stretch his arms and legs once more. ‘I’ll walk from here. Nothing much should happen before three or so, but we want to be in position long before then. Meet me at the station at one and we’ll walk down to the beach together. I know I can rely on you not to say a word.’

  Haldean walked into the house. He hoped there was something to eat. He hoped he wouldn’t have to face too many questions. The last hope went unanswered.

  Haldean lowered himself from the grassy overhang to the sand below, and found a little hollow set into the bank where he could sit unobserved from above. There was a scrambling noise and Ashley joined him.

  ‘I’ve got the men sorted out,’ said Ashley in a low voice.

  Haldean glanced up and down the dark and apparently deserted beach. ‘They’re well hidden,’ he whispered. ‘You’d never guess they were here.’

  ‘That’s the idea,’ agreed Ashley. ‘I think we’ve got a good hour before anything happens, so we can relax a bit. How was Hesperus?’

  Haldean pulled a face. ‘Mixed. Everyone was glad to hear about Smith-Fennimore. Charnock was twitchy.’

  Ashley grinned. ‘I bet he was.’

  Haldean hugged his knees, watching the moonlight catch the waves in drops of silver before rippling out in surf. ‘Bubble and Squeak Robiceux have gone home, by the way. Now the inquest is over they haven’t got any reason to stick around. Lady Harriet and Mrs Strachan have pushed off too. Lady Harriet announced that now Arthur had been arrested there was no reason for her to stay. Mrs Strachan didn’t say an awful lot but folded her tents and stole away.’

  ‘Technically they’re within their rights, of course,’ said Ashley. ‘I hope we’ve got addresses for all of them.’

  Haldean nodded. ‘Aunt Alice has. She didn’t say as much, but it was obvious she wasn’t sorry to see the back of either Lady Harriet or Mrs Strachan. How’s Arthur, by the way?’

  ‘Captain Stanton? I saw him this evening. I couldn’t help liking him. He’s pinned a lot of faith on you. Look, Haldean, I know what you believe and I’m inclined to agree, but I’d be a lot happier if Captain Stanton could actually tell us what happened. I’d like to think of a way to jog his memory.’

  Haldean wriggled back in the sand. ‘It’d help Arthur, certainly. What I’m really interested in is seeing what Bill Rackham turns up about this knife of Gerasimov’s. That’d show us whether we’re on the right lines.’

  ‘And that’d be a relief,’ said Ashley. ‘Not that I honestly doubt it.’

  They sat in silence in the darkness, watching the full moon make a dancing path on the black, lapping water. ‘The sea’s high, isn’t it?’ said Haldean eventually.

  ‘It’s high tide at three. We’re coming up to the spring. They’ll need it to get the boat in.’

  Haldean shivered. ‘I wish they’d get on with it. This waiting’s awful.’

  Ashley grinned and relaxed back against the sandy earth. ‘That’s nine-tenths of proper police work. We’ve traced the ins and outs of this operation. It’s been going on for months now. You can’t expect them to hurry just because we’re here.’

  It was nearly an hour later and the moon had moved across the heavens before another sound broke into the rhythmic murmur of the sea. It was the deep chug of a ship’s steam engine. Haldean screwed up his eyes as the shape of the headland across the bay seemed to alter. He watched, fascinated, as the dark bulk of a ship loomed close into the shore. The engine was silenced, then there was the rattle of an anchor chain, followed by voices and splashes as two boats were lowered from the ship.

  From the road behind came the creak of wheels and the clopping of hooves. Above their heads rose a sudden whisper of voices, quickly hushed, and the noise of footsteps coming down the cliff path. Haldean and Ashley shrank back into the deep shadow of the overhang as a few loose pebbles scattered past them. The two boats drew nearer to the shore, the sound of the oars in the rowlocks and the grunt of the stroke clearly audible across the water.

  Two men jumped lightly from the grass on to the sand. Haldean caught sight of their faces in the moonlight. One was the white-haired Slav he had seen on the night of the ball. The other was Alfred Charnock. The men went down to the sea’s edge to meet the boats and help pull them on to the sand.

  A few yards further along a man led a horse pulling a wagon heavily laden with rectangular boxes down the gentle slope on to the beach. ‘That’s Burrows,’ muttered Ashley in Haldean’s ear.

  ‘We’ll get these crates unloaded,’ Haldean heard Charnock say, ‘then go back for the rest.’

  Charnock, the Slav and the boat crews started to unload the boxes from the wagon and pile them on the sand.

  Ashley gave a glance at Haldean, drew out his police whistle and gave a piercing blast. At once the beach was full of shouts and men running to surround the wagon. Burrows lashed out and was brought down by a truncheon on his shoulder. The Slav leapt back defensively, was caught by two policemen, struggling as handcuffs were snapped round his wrists. The boat crews, for the most part, stood bewildered by the pile of boxes. Alfred Charnock drew a revolver.

  ‘Now then, my lad, none of that!’ Ashley brought his stick crashing down on his arm, sending the gun flying. Charnock nursed his arm, looking at the policeman in disgust. ‘I suppose I’m meant to say, “The game’s up.”’ Then he caught sight of Haldean. ‘You! My God, I might have known you’d be involved.’

  Haldean said nothing.

  Ashley wasn’t having it. ‘Shut up, Charnock. You can have your say afterwards. Get those boxes open, men.’

  Charnock went for his jacket pocket. Ashley started forward. ‘Don’t be so edgy, officer,’ said Charnock smoothly. ‘I’m only getting a cigarette. And please address me as Mr Charnock.’ He drew out his case and struck a match. ‘Why don’t you ask your friend, Jack the lad there, to tell you what we’re shipping?’

  ‘It’s my guess the boxes contain arms,’ said Haldean in a controlled voice. ‘Ah, I see they do.’ The lids had been crowbarred off and the inner tarpaulin ripped open, revealing an array of gun barrels, gleaming in the moonlight. He stooped down and picked one out. ‘And they come from Lyvenden’s factory.’

  ‘Perhaps you can tell me where they’re going?’ drawled Charnock
, pulling on his cigarette.

  ‘Ireland, at a guess,’ said Ashley.

  ‘Ireland!’ Charnock looked genuinely amused. ‘No, we’re going a little further afield than that. Try Yalta.’

  Haldean stared at him. ‘What? In the Black Sea?’

  ‘Congratulations. Ten out ten for geographical knowledge.’

  ‘Are you supplying the Reds?’ asked Ashley.

  ‘As if,’ drawled Charnock. ‘Wrong side, my dear man.’

  Haldean paused, gun in hand.’ You’re taking them to the Ukraine, aren’t you? Where you were in the war. These are for the White Russians. I bet you’re getting a handsome profit.’

  ‘Naturally. Well done. I see I can’t put anything past you.’

  ‘But what the dickens is it all about?’ demanded Ashley. ‘If you want to ship guns to the Ukraine why are you doing it in this hole-in-a-corner way? Why all the secrecy?’

  Charnock smiled. ‘It makes life more exciting?’ Ashley snorted. ‘No, I can see you won’t buy that. However, it does raise the interesting question of what I’m actually meant to be guilty of, doesn’t it, officer?’

  ‘Damn me, I’ll get you under the Firearms Act if I can’t get you for anything else,’ said Ashley pugnaciously.

  Charnock’s smile flickered for a moment. ‘Yes, there is that,’ he said, in the tone of one approving a good stroke by his opponent on the cricket field. ‘Yes, I must admit you’ve got me there. I must admit that piece of petty legislation hadn’t actually crossed my mind.’

  ‘It’s going to occupy it extensively soon,’ said Ashley grimly. ‘Alfred Charnock – Mr Charnock – I arrest you on the charge of holding arms without a licence as prohibited by the provisions of the Firearms Act 1920. You do not need to say anything, but anything you do say may be used in a court of law. In fact, my lad,’ he added with great satisfaction, ‘you’re nicked.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, Superintendent Ashley had a long interview with Sir Philip and Lady Rivers. Haldean, waiting in the hall for his telephone call to King Edward’s Hospital to be put through, gave him the thumbs-up sign as he walked past. After half an hour Ashley sought out his friend who had migrated to the stone seat on the terrace.

  Haldean put down his newspaper, offered Ashley a cigarette and, like a conjuror producing a rabbit from a hat, brought out a quart bottle of beer and two glasses from under the seat. ‘I thought you might need a spot of something,’ he said with a grin, ‘so I laid in supplies.’

  Ashley poured a beer and took a much-needed drink. ‘My word, I’m glad that’s over. As you know, I’ve got a great respect for your aunt and, despite what I think of Charnock, he is her stepbrother, after all. You’d told them what had happened, I gather.’

  ‘Yes.’Haldean sat back thoughtfully. ‘Aunt Alice took it pretty hard. That’s only natural, of course. I broke the news first thing this morning and it wasn’t at all nice. She knew Charnock was always on the windy side of the law but this time he could end up in quod.’

  Ashley pulled a face. ‘He probably won’t, more’s the pity. Between you and me, I’d love to see him behind bars for no other reason than to wipe the smile off his face, but a decent barrister could probably get him off, worse luck.’

  ‘And I suppose poor old Uncle Phil will have to foot the bill. Still, it should put a crimp in Mr Charnock treating the place like a home from home. Uncle Phil won’t stand for that any longer.’

  ‘What beats me,’ said Ashley, finishing his beer, ‘– is there any more in that bottle, by the way? Thanks – is why Charnock couldn’t get the correct licences and do the thing openly instead of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. I was convinced he was shipping arms to Ireland but those weapons really were destined for the Ukraine, you know. I still can’t understand why he needed to shroud himself in so much secrecy.’

  ‘Well, he’d have had to apply for a gun licence, of course,’ said Haldean. ‘And with his record there’s absolutely no guarantee he’d have got one. The Ukrainians probably wanted it kept as much undercover as possible so as not to alert the Moscow authorities. And then again, when you consider who the arms were destined for, I can’t see Lyvenden being too anxious to explain things to his associates.’

  Ashley smacked his knee. ‘That’s it! That’d scuttle the whole show before he’d got it off the ground.’

  ‘So come on, Ashley, tell me all the juicy details. What’s happened to the ship?’

  ‘That’s in our hands. There wasn’t any trouble about that, especially as most of the crew were on the beach. No, it all ended fairly tamely and Charnock, Burrows and the crew are all safely in custody in Lewes. To be honest, I imagine we’ll end up letting the foreigners go but I’d love to nail Charnock and Burrows. Anyway, this smuggling racket has been going on for months. Charnock was in control of things on this side. He’d order the arms from Lyvenden, and Lyvenden would supply them on the QT. He’d dispatch a lorry-load of arms from Birmingham once a month and they were stored in those garages of Burrows’ until they could be shipped across to the Ukraine. Incidentally, listening to your uncle on the subject of Lord Lyvenden was interesting.’

  ‘I bet it was,’ said Haldean with a grin. ‘I never could make out what he saw in him. Go on.’

  ‘How it worked was like this. A large amount of money was paid to Lyvenden in January. That was followed by a regular payment every month. The Birmingham police are checking all this, but that’s more or less what happened. That white-haired bloke who came to the ball – his name’s Volodymir Ferencz, by the way, if I’ve pronounced that right – is first mate on the Ukrainian ship. Anyway, there should have been a shipment on Saturday, the night of the ball, but things went badly wrong. There was a fire in the engine room and the captain was injured, so they had to limp round to Newhaven for repairs. Ferencz was sent to tell Charnock, who went to see for himself, which is why he came back here late and wet through. Ferencz has been dividing his time between Newhaven and the Pig and Whistle where he met up with Charnock. We followed him back to the ship, made enquiries and found that the work was due to be finished yesterday. I knew they needed high tide to get the ship in to the beach, so when I looked up my tide-tables and found that high water was at three this morning, I thought we could make a pretty good guess as to when everything was going to happen.’

  ‘This is brilliant stuff, Ashley,’ said Haldean. ‘How did Charnock come to be involved?’

  Ashley filled his pipe reflectively. ‘He knew the Ukrainian captain, an Andriy Dobryrnin, who was in charge of the other end of the operation. We’ve got Captain Dobryrnin in hospital and I saw him first thing this morning. I’ve got a lot of sympathy for him. His wife and children were massacred by the Bolshies and his home destroyed. He was left for dead, but when he eventually recovered, he wanted to start his own private war. They’re not exactly pro-Moscow in those parts, so he had a lot of support. He contacted our friend Alfred, who he’d worked with in the war, and, as it happened, came as the answer to Charnock’s prayers. Charnock had got badly involved in one of Lyvenden’s schemes last year and couldn’t pay up. He offered Lyvenden the chance to export arms at a fair old profit and Lyvenden agreed. Charnock, of course, creamed off a handsome take. To give him his due, his part worked like clockwork. They used the Pig and Whistle as a meeting place. It’s pretty isolated and no one noticed a thing until our attention was drawn to it, as you might say.’

  Haldean poured another glass of beer for them both. ‘It’d be better for Aunt Alice if he could get away with it, I suppose, but I bet he won’t dare show his face near my uncle for a long time to come. I’m not surprised you’re pleased with yourself. Here’s to.’

  Ashley smiled and raised his glass. ‘What have you got to tell me? Do you know how Commander Smith-Fennimore is getting on?’

  ‘He’s doing fine. I rang the hospital and was able to talk to the doctor who’s looking after him. He should be discharged tomorrow morning. I presume he’ll be coming back h
ere. In fact, he’s almost bound to come back here.’ He paused. ‘He nearly went west, you know,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘We really did get there just in time. If he’d died . . .’ He shook himself. ‘Anyway, after that, I spoke to Bill Rackham about Gerasimov’s knife. He’s left an official message for you at the station, but the gist of it is that we were right.’

  Ashley raised his eyebrows. ‘You were right, you mean.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘That changes things. That changes things quite a bit.’

  ‘Yes . . . What d’you think?’

  Ashley sat back and didn’t say anything for quite a time. ‘I’m satisfied,’ he said eventually. ‘But I know I won’t be able to convince the Chief. As I said last night, if only Stanton could remember what actually happened, it’d help.’

  ‘It might,’ said Haldean. ‘Though I’m not all that convinced it would.’ He bit his lip. ‘Look, will you telephone Lady Harriet? She wouldn’t talk to me, but she might speak to you. We could do with knowing what she really was doing on the morning Lyvenden was killed. I can guess but I’d like to be sure. After that . . .’ He paused. ‘What we need now is a confession. Anything which backed it up would be a bonus.’

  ‘Well, I could have told you that,’ said Ashley blankly.

  Haldean gave a fleeting grin. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not being as dopey as I sound. I’ve got an idea . . .’

  A couple of hours later Haldean walked into the summerhouse. Isabelle was in there, an open book face down on the bench beside her. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were in here.’

  ‘I was just thinking things through.’ She watched curiously as her cousin started to poke around under the bench that ran round the wall. ‘Jack, what are you doing?’

  ‘I was looking for a plant pot or something.’

  ‘Why don’t you try the potting shed?’