Spies on Bikes

by Dennis Forster

  ‘I rang him while you were chatting with CB.’

  ‘The boys are not with the Rabbi?’

  ‘No. Charles, where are they? I nearly forgot, Rabbi Cohen apologised for shouting at you.’

  ‘That was decent of him. I am going to assume that the man with four Gladstone bags was Doyle. I will telephone the Chief Constable. I’ve met him a few times at civil defence meetings. I have little confidence in the fellow. He is rather too full of his own importance. He takes bribes. And that, Elizabeth, is a secret. Don’t ask me how I know.’

  ‘MI5?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll pass on to him what you’ve told me. If he does his job properly every policeman in the area will be on the look-out for Jack and George. On the other hand, I’ll put money on them having gone to the cinema.’

  ‘I’ll bet Jack knows this man Doyle has a funny ear.’

  ‘I would not disagree with that assumption.’

  ‘He’s a terrible eavesdropper.’

  ‘You think he recognised Doyle?’

  ‘Yes, the ear would be the first clue. That would set him thinking.’

  ‘And the second?’

  ‘If he heard Doyle speak.’

  ‘An Irish accent?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would Doyle recognise Jack? When he’d collected the rucksack he told me he thought someone was watching him from the back of the Left Luggage Office.’

  ‘But that was when he was disguised as a member of the Hitler Youth.’

  ‘Which is why we told him to wear his cap.’

  ‘I do hope he didn’t take it off after I left. With it on he looks like an English schoolboy.’

  ‘Let us suppose Doyle is the man with four Gladstone bags and that the boys are suspicious: what would they do?’

  ‘They’d follow him.’

  ‘I agree … on the other hand they might be in a cinema eating sweets.’

  ‘I gave them money for sweets.’

  ‘There you are then. I’ll ring the Chief Constable.’

  17

  The rookie policeman lay on his back. His pals from the station were bending over him. Why were they looking at him through frosted glass? Why was the sky as dark a blue as his policeman’s uniform?

  He waved at these vague shapes a bloodied piece of paper; they had to know about Jack and George.

  ‘It’s from Moses,’ he said.

  ‘What’s he say?’

  ‘He’s delirious.’

  ‘Don’t try to talk, help is on its way.’

  A sergeant began the job of moving the public back. The sooner the area was cordoned off the better.

  ‘Back you go, madam.’

  ‘I can see blood.’

  ‘You’ll see stars if you don’t move back. Move along, sir, be a good chap, this ain’t a peep show, you know.’

  ‘I’m a journalist.’

  ‘And I’m Errol Flynn.’

  ‘No need to take that attitude. I’m only doing my job.’

  ‘And I’m doing mine. I’ll tell you once more … move. I’m doing my best to keep you safe. You are in the line of fire.’

  ‘Am I?’’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you like a sweet?’

  ‘No, I would not. What sort are they?’

  ‘Black bullets.’

  ‘Go on then, but don’t think you can bribe me.’

  ‘Here’s my card. I’ve heard a rumour that the IRA are in the Monument.’

  ‘Move!’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘And so is Christmas.’

  Constables with drawn truncheons stood either side of the door leading into the Monument. The hole made in it by the bullet that had hit their colleague reminded them of the danger they were in. When they looked at it muscles in their faces twitched.

  They were not armed with guns but they’d have-a-go at anyone who popped his head out of the door.

  When would armed colleagues arrive? They needed back-up.

  Other constables tended their wounded colleague. One made a pillow for him out of his policeman’s jacket.

  ‘Moses, the ferret … name’s … on … collar,’ said the wounded constable.

  ‘Don’t talk, laddie.’

  ‘He’s going … damn, where’s that bloody ambulance?’

  18

  ‘I’ll be there in one hour, thank you,’ said Sir Charles. He put the phone down. ‘Bert, tell Mike to get a Rolls ready.’

  On the terrace Lady Elizabeth, Harry and the Americans, except Mancini, were drinking cocktails. O’Neil was drinking water. He kept looking at Lady Elizabeth. He knew he’d a bad hangover but, dammit, he HAD seen a Nazi sitting in the back of the Rolls Royce; well, he thought he had.

  ‘You’re one helluva fisher-girl, Marigold,’ said Weinberger.

  ‘Mike gave her the best “stretch”,’ said Macdonald.

  ‘Sour grapes. I out-fished you, period,’ said Marigold.

  ‘Sure you did,’ said Weinberger.

  ‘Creep!’

  ‘I like you, Marigold. You give it out but you as sure as hell can take it. What do you say, Harry?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Harry.

  ‘Harry, you and me … we are supposed to speak the same language. How come I’m not getting your drift?’

  ‘Quit the teasing, Jasper,’ said Macdonald. ‘The Brits need our support, not their legs pulling.’

  ‘We did take a lot of fish out of that river.’

  ‘Marigold took the most.’

  ‘I know, I got the message, she won the bet. No secrets going to be whispered into Jasper’s ear.’

  ‘If you won, Marigold, that means we lost. What’s our forfeit?’

  ‘When you get back to the States tell your fellow Americans to support this little island.’

  ‘Hell, we were gonna do that anyway, weren’t we, Bob?’ He winked. ‘You having another glass of water? Why are you so damn quiet?’

  ‘Gentlemen, I do apologise,’ said Sir Charles, joining his guests on the terrace, ‘I seem to be always doing this … ‘

  ‘You gotta go and save the country again?’ said Weinberger.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘What is it this time? Anderson Shelters? Pill-Boxes? It’s serious, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is rather.’

  ‘That’s Brit speak for, “too bloody true it’s serious”.’

  ‘Can we help?’ said Macdonald.

  ‘Very kind of you to offer but I rather think that on this occasion even your lending us a battleship would not help.’

  ‘Two battleships?’

  Sir Charles smiled. ‘Elizabeth … ‘

  In the drawing room away from their guests Sir Charles told his wife of the dreadful possibility that George and Jack just might have been kidnapped.

  ‘You are not holding anything back?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I’ll look after the Americans. Do what you have to do. Come here.’ She kissed him. ‘Good luck.’

  On the terrace she said, ‘My husband is a workaholic. What the army would do without him … And the war hasn’t started yet. Let’s have lots to drink and tease Mr O’Neil.’

  Before he left Sir Charles changed into uniform. Later, much to her annoyance, Lady Elizabeth found his evening suit lying on the floor of their dressing room. It was something he’d never done before. She hoped ‘events’ were not going to make him untidy. She’d spent years training him.

  19

  Sir Charles took charge of the siege. At a meeting of senior police officers he explained that their murdered colleague had not been delirious when he’d talked about a ferret called, Moses.

  ‘The wee beastie belongs to a Jewish refugee my wife and I are looking after at
The Hall.’

  ‘Is he Jack or George?’ said the Chief Constable.

  ‘He’s Jack.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound very Jewish to me.’

  The tone of voice, the smirk exchanged with a fellow officer said it all. What had the Jews done to him? Was the oaf aware of his warped thinking? Probably not.

  ‘And who is George? Another refugee … circumcised, is he?’

  ‘He is my grandson.’

  20

  A police sergeant escorted Sir Charles to Grey’s Monument. On their way they picked up Mike.

  ‘My gamekeeper,’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘Mike,’ said Mike, shaking hands with the Sergeant.

  ‘Sergeant Small,’ said Sergeant Small.

  ‘Do they call you “Tiny”?’

  Mike was a big man but the sergeant was a good two inches taller.

  ‘They did in the army. Dear me, you’ve parked your Rolls-Royce in the space reserved for the Chief Constable, no wonder he’s in a bad mood. Once drank out of his mug in the canteen, dear me, you’d think the end of the world had come.’

  21

  Sergeant Small guided Sir Charles and Mike to an abandoned tramcar.

  ‘If we go up top, sir,’ said Sergeant Small, ‘we’ll get a good view of things.’

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘That little door, sir, over there … set into the Monument’s pedestal. The stain on the pavement is our man’s blood.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘A witness says she saw PC Brown knock on that door with his truncheon. She says he shouted, “Police, come out with your hands up, you are surrounded”.’

  ‘But he was by himself?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘He had no back up?’

  ‘That is correct, sir.’

  ‘An act of bravado.’

  ‘Poor lad took on more than he could chew. Whoever’s in there shot, blind through the door. The bullet could have gone anywhere. He was unlucky. He was a good footballer. I coach the police team. His problem was he didn’t want to pass. I’d started calling him “Sticky Ball”. He didn’t like that. He’d beat five or six men but in the end he was always brought down.’

  ‘Like now?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘It’s easy to get carried away, to think we can do more than we are capable of.’

  ‘Like when you charged that pill box full of Germans in France, sir?’

  ‘You were there?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I don’t recognise you.’

  ‘You were Coldstream Guards, sir and an officer. I was a private … Northumberland Fusiliers. The men cheered you.’

  ‘I got carried away.’

  ‘You were brave, sir.’

  ‘No, I was angry. What I did was foolhardy.’

  ‘You were lucky, sir.’

  ‘I know … which is why there will be no charging of the Monument … and there is definitely someone inside?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The witness who came to the aid of PC Brown is certain that after the shooting the culprit did not scarper, probably believed what PC Brown had shouted.’

  ‘That he was surrounded?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And since the shooting no communication has taken place with whoever is in there?’

  ‘That is correct, sir.’

  Sir Charles studied the scene. The absence of human activity. The tall fluted column, so high one had to fling back one’s head to see the statue of Earl Grey on its top … but were George and Jack in there? The note delivered by Moses was typical of Jack. The lad was nothing if not resourceful. But were they in there? The shameful murder of PC Brown … appalling, quite appalling. A murmuration of starlings blackened the sky.

  If Jack and George weren’t in there, where were they? If they were inside, they were hostages. The shooter or shooters could … would use them to bargain their way out. Before he decided what to do he wanted proof they were in there. One thing was certain, whoever had fired the shot was trapped. A cornered animal was unpredictable. This worried Sir Charles. The possibility that George and Jack might be executed in cold blood was something he put to the back of his mind.

  He recalled what the inside of the Monument looked like. At an anniversary dinner to celebrate one hundred years of Earl Grey’s passing of the 1832 Reform Act, for which deed the good people of Newcastle had subscribed to have a statue of the Earl placed on top of a 135-foot column, Sir Charles, along with other VIPs, had been taken to its top where a door led out onto a two foot wide ledge, making it possible to walk all the way round the plinth upon which the statue of the good earl stood. Any fear of falling was all in the ‘head’ as the walkway was fenced in by high railings. Even so, Sir Charles remembered that shuffling round that ‘bloody plinth’, as he called it, had made his tummy do somersaults.

  The meal in the Mansion House afterwards had been rather good … roast beef and Yorkshire Puddings, nothing fancy but very well done.

  22

  At the Police Station, Sir Charles wrote down the following.

  Experienced Negotiator to be in charge of communicating with whoever is inside the Monument.

  Armed police or the military to cover the door leading into the Monument.

  Provide an army field telephone for the use of whoever is in there. How to deliver?

  Observers to be positioned as high up as possible in all surrounding buildings. All to be issued with binoculars.

  Army field telephones to be used to link all observers with a central command post.

  A listening device to be inserted through one of the Column’s ventilation slits.

  A photographer with a telephoto lens to be ready to snap any activity at the door. If whoever is in there shows himself, a photograph might help identify him.

  Explosive charges to be ready to blast open the door.

  Find out who is responsible for the day to day running of the Monument. Is the door at its top kept open or locked? Does it have a lock?

  No negotiations to start until all of the above is in place.

  The command post to be the tramcar.

  Until proven otherwise it will be assumed that George and Jack are hostages. Their safety is our first priority.

  23

  Before chairing a meeting to explain his plan Sir Charles telephoned the Home Office. He reminded the Home Secretary that Lord Frederick was in hospital.

  ‘As I am “His Majesty’s Eyes and Ears in the North” I propose to be in charge of Operation Spies on Bikes.’

  ‘Charlie, do carry on, I’m far too busy signing bits of paper authorising the building of air raid shelters. You are lucky you caught me. I’m off to Number Ten … big meeting. You can guess about what.’

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘So, it seems, does everyone else in England. What is it?’

  ‘The Chief Constable … put him right, will you, there’s a good fellow. Make sure he knows I’m pulling the shots … remind him which side his bread is buttered on.’

  ‘I’ll give him a tinkle … and, Charlie, good luck.’

  24

  Sir Charles ignored the Chief Constable’s scowls; that’s what people did when they’d been told off by his old pal, the Home Secretary.

  To make matters worse he announced, knowing full well that he was being mischievous, ‘No smoking, if you don’t mind, gentlemen. I have asthma.’

  This was a lie but like all the best lies it was a little bit true. As a child he had had asthma, but not now and would himself have enjoyed a pipe.

  ‘Room’s small and there are no windows.’

  Men, in groups, were like dogs, they had to know who was boss. He took particular satisfaction in watching the Chief Constable return a cigarette to its packet.

/>   ‘Plenty of time for Mistress Nicotine when we’ve solved our problem.’

  He outlined his plan. They listened. They took notes.

  ‘To conclude,’ said Sir Charles, ‘until it is proven otherwise we will assume that George and Jack are in there and that they are hostages. Our priority is for their safety. As soon as the boffins get a microphone inside the Monument and we can hear what whoever is in there is saying, we will know more about what and with whom we are dealing. If the boys are in there we want to get them out alive. If their captors are the IRA, then I fear they are in real danger. Yes?’

  A policeman had put up his hand.

  ‘Surely, sir, they wouldn’t hurt two young lads?’

  ‘You mean murder them in cold blood?’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ He stroked his chin. ‘I suppose I do.’

  ‘I don’t know. I fear it is a possibility. I repeat, if they are in there, their safety is our number one priority.’

  ‘And, if they are not in there,’ someone shouted from the back row, ‘we’ll go in and get the bastard who shot Archie.’

  ‘I suggest, gentlemen, that we now stand and pay our respects to PC Brown.’

  25

  Experts in the art of eavesdropping arrived at the Monument in an olive-green army staff car. They wore army uniform but did not look like soldiers, more like civilians wearing fancy dress. Their insignia showed them all to be Majors. An army lorry following behind carried their equipment. Its driver, a little chap with a bent cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, asked a policeman, ‘Any chance of a cuppa, mate?’

  ‘Jackson,’ said one of the Majors, ‘be a good chap and start unloading our stuff. It’s to go in the tramcar, over there. That’s going to be “home” for as long as this job takes.’

  ‘There’s the tramcar, Jackson,’ said the policeman. ‘At the double, Jackson, you heard what the nice man said.’

  ‘What about giving him a hand?’ said the Major. ‘Some of those boxes are heavy.’

  ‘I’m an officer of the law, sir, not a porter.’

  ‘PC thirty-eight,’ said Sergeant Small, ‘give the soldier a hand. We’re all in this together. Too young for the last bash, were you? You’ve a lot to learn. If you show willing I’ll think about putting you on the football team.’