Gideon's Day

by John Creasey

  20. End of the Day

  Gideon drove through the deserted streets of the City toward the East End, munching a ham sandwich which Cameron had laid on. Cameron was looking after everything at the Mid-Union now, and Gideon wasn’t needed any more. Gideon wasn’t sure that he had ever been needed, but at least he knew all about it.

  Depression at the knowledge that Fitzroy was still at large had gone. Fessell’s capture was a fresh triumph, and there was the titillating promise of Lemaitre’s manner.

  Shippy’s was a cafe nearby of ill repute, in the Whitechapel area, not far from the Mile End Road. It was known to be the rendezvous of most of the really bad types in the East End. Murphy used it, and most of the men who worked in liaison with Murphy. Many ugly crimes were plotted there. Yet outwardly it was reputable, and Shippy, the man who ran it, looked like a citizen par excellence. As a cafe, it was not only good, it was spotlessly clean. Shippy, or Luke Shipham, was a thin man who always wore a new white apron, a stiff white collar and a grey tie, whose hair was smartly groomed and brushed to a high quiff. He had never been inside, but had been interviewed a hundred times, and always presented the same bland story and the same bland face: “Nothing wrong happens in my cafe, Mr. Gideon; I can’t refuse to serve men because they might be criminal, can I?”

  Most people prophesied that Shippy would slip up one day. Gideon wasn’t so sure.

  Whitechapel was dimly lit, the wide streets seemed derelict, the unlighted houses were drab, deserted hovels. A few neon advertising signs burned in the High Street, but there was a long gap in them, broken when Gideon came within sight of Shippy’s. The name was emblazoned in white neon across the front of the double-fronted cafe. As Gideon pulled up outside he was impressed, as he had often been, by the smart appearance of the place. Put it in Oxford Street, and it would compare favourably with most restaurants.

  A blue sign declared: OPEN DAY & NIGHT.

  A squad car was outside, and two uniformed policemen were walking up and down. They came closer to see who it was, and then touched their helmets.

  Gideon felt a quickening of excitement as he pushed open the double doors.

  The big room with cream-painted walls, blue and red tables and chairs, and the brightly shining urn at the long counter struck warm. There was a smell of ground coffee. Sandwiches in a glass showcase looked more succulent than those which Gideon had been given by Cameron, and far superior to anything ever supplied by the Yard. A youth stood behind the counter, and two plain-clothes men of the Flying Squad were sitting at a table, eating and drinking; they jumped up when Gideon appeared.

  “All right,” Gideon said, “so long as you pay for it. Mr. Lemaitre here?”

  One man grinned; the other said: “Yes, sir,” and nodded toward the open door leading to the kitchen and the room at the back of the restaurant. Gideon found himself thinking of Chang; and restaurants generally; and the restaurants Chang supplied with tea and other goods.

  Shippy, looking correct and aloof, was standing in one corner of the room. A uniformed policeman was watching him. Lemaitre, hat and coat off, sleeves rolled up over those big, swelling arms, sat at a desk with another Yard man, and on a big, deal-topped table there were wads and wads of one-pound notes.

  Gideon caught his breath.

  “Mr. Gideon, sir,” Shippy said quickly. “I didn’t know anything about it. A gentleman asked if he could leave his luggage here, and I obligingly said that he could. Mr. Lemaitre is being extremely rude, and-”

  Lemaitre looked up, grinning so broadly that Gideon was infected by a kind of gaiety.

  “Hark at him,” Lemaitre scoffed. “White as blurry snow! Know what we’ve found, Geo—Superintendent?”

  Gideon said slowly, and with great, choking relish: “I’ve got a good idea, Chief Inspector.”

  “The notes from the Waterloo Station job,” said Lemaitre, unable to repress his bubbling elation. “Exactly the same number of packages, and I’ve counted five, each with five hundred quid in it. Found them in three suitcases.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you more when Mr. Shipham isn’t with us.”

  “Mr. Gideon—” Shipham had a walrus-shaped moustache and sad-looking eyes, but they were scared, too, as if he knew that he was really in trouble at last. “I assure you that I knew nothing about it, and I must ask—”

  “Just a minute,” Gideon said. “Have you made any charge, Chief Inspector?”

  “Not yet.”

  “All right.” Gideon was brisk. “You’ll have your chance to tell us all about it,” he told Shipham. “Now I’m charging you with being in possession of a quantity of treasury notes, knowing them to have been stolen. Anything you say may be taken down and used as evidence. Constable—”

  “It’s just not right,” Shipham protested. “I don’t know a thing, Mr. Gideon. In the name of fair play, I appeal to you.”

  Gideon looked at him coldly.

  “Shippy,” he said, “in these mail-van jobs, three people have been seriously injured, one of them crippled for life. A man was injured at Waterloo this afternoon. That’s only one angle. You’ll get your chance to say what you like to the magistrate in the morning, and if you want a solicitor, you can send for him. But not until we’ve got you at the Yard. Constable, ask one of the officers outside to come in, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But my business—” began Shippy fearfully.

  “You won’t be doing any more business tonight, and in the morning your wife can open, if we’ve finished searching,” Gideon declared.

  Shipham didn’t argue any more.

  Lemaitre finished a count, and then leaned back, taking cigarettes out of the pocket of the coat hanging on the back of the chair. The other man said: “Five hundred here, too.”

  “Oh, it’s the same stuff,” Lemaitre said emphatically. “Every penny of it, George. What a bit of blurry luck!”

  It was almost too good to be true.

  ‘How’d we get it?”

  “When we picked up the Snide he was in a bad way,” said Lemaitre. “Knocked silly, you know. He said he must get to Shippy’s. No one took much notice of it, it’s a meeting place for the mob, but it was reported and I noticed it. So I got G5 to keep an eye on Shippy’s. Half an hour before I called you on the r.t. another of Murphy’s boys came here empty-handed and went out with a case. The G5 chap topped him. There was a hell of a shemozzle, and three others tried to get the case away. Then Lady Luck looked in, because a squad car was coming along.” Lemaitre chuckled and rubbed his hands jubilantly. “Now we’ve got a busy day tomorrow, George!”

  Gideon smiled faintly.

  He picked up one of the bundles of notes. Fingerprint men had already been over them; he could see the traces of powder. Prints didn’t show up on the edges of a bundle of notes, but a few might have been handled top and bottom. Shippy would probably crack when he knew that they’d be able to send him down. Was it worth trying to work on him now? Gideon went into a tiny office behind the shop and ran through the papers – bills, invoices, receipts, delivery orders. Then he began to feel a fresh and tingling excitement; there were several invoices from Chang’s restaurant, mostly for tea; yet other big packages marked TEA had a blender’s name and address.

  Gideon had a funny choking feeling.

  Small packets with a different label were also marked TEA. One was open at the end. Gideon took it off a shelf and looked inside.

  There were cigarettes.

  He stared blankly – and then began to smile slowly, tensely, unbelievingly. He took out a cigarette, broke it, and sniffed.

  These were loaded with marijuana; these were reefers! If he could trace this “tea” to Chang—

  Gideon laid on a raid before Chang could get warning of Shippy’s arrest.

  Chang wasn’t at the restaurant.

  The “tea” was.

  Gideon drove home through this dark, quiet London, and the events of the day flitted through his mind. It had been a wonderful day; the day o
f a lifetime; never to be forgotten.

  Chang was under a charge, Mazzioni had been picked up again, and there was a chance of breaking Murphy’s power, too, although that would take some time.

  Thoughts of the Saparelli family, especially the mother, quietened his jubilation, but the police had done all anyone could, and time would help, wouldn’t it?

  He thought of Foster’s sister; of Estelle who was no longer in danger. They hadn’t got the man who’d stolen Lady Muriel’s jewels; a dozen, a hundred crimes had been committed that day which were still unsolved; some would remain so for weeks, and some forever.

  They’d have to find Fitzroy, and there was a case all right. Red-handed prisoners, no problem, just routine. That was how he liked them.

  Gideon turned into Harringdon Street and saw a light on at the first-floor bedroom window of his house. He ran the car into the wooden garage at the corner, and hurried back, suddenly anxious; was one of the youngsters ill?

  He let himself in quietly, hurried upstairs, saw a light beneath the door of his room, but nowhere else. So Kate was awake. He called out softly: “Only me.”

  He opened the door.

  Kate was sitting up in bed with a pink angora wool bed jacket round her shoulders, a book open in front of her. She looked tired, but her colour was good, and her hair neat in a net he sensed rather than saw.

  “What’s this?” he asked. “Can’t you sleep?”

  “Malcolm ran a little temperature,” Kate said, “and he hasn’t been settled for long. I rang the Yard, and they said you were on your way, so I thought you might like a cup of tea.” She glanced at a tray on a bedside table, and the kettle on the bedroom gas ring. Under a silver dish cover, Gideon was sure, were sandwiches.

  Kate hadn’t worried to do anything like this for years.

  “Nothing I’d like more,” he said, and went to light the gas. But she slid out of bed.

  “I’ll do it. You look tired out. And what’s that nasty bruise on your temple?”

  “Oh, nothing,” said Gideon. “All in the day’s work.”

  He began to undress, and to talk as he did so, only vaguely understanding that it was a long time since he had talked about the day’s work with Kate. It was as if the years had been bridged, so that they were together again. He did not think of that in so many words; he just felt that it was good to be home.

  Series Information

  Published or to be published by

  House of Stratus

  Dates given are those of first publication

  Gideon Series

  (Writing as JJ Marric)

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  Title Also Published as:

  1 Gideon’s Day Gideon of Scotland Yard 1955

  2 Seven Days to Death Gideon’s Week 1956

  3 Gideon’s Night 1957

  4 Gideon’s Month 1958

  5 Gideon’s Staff 1959

  6 Gideon’s Risk 1960

  7 Gideon’s Fire 1961

  8 A Conference for Assassins Gideon’s March 1962

  9 Travelling Crimes Gideon’s Ride 1963

  10 An Uncivilised Election Gideon’s Vote 1964

  11 Criminal Imports Gideon’s Lot 1965

  12 Gideon’s Badge 1966

  13 From Murder to a Cathedral Gideon’s Wrath 1967

  14 Gideon’s River 1968

  15 Gideon’s Power 1969

  16 Sport, Heat & Scotland Yard Gideon’s Sport 1970

  17 Gideon’s Art 1971

  18 Gideon’s Men 1972

  19 Gideon’s Press 1973

  20 Gideon’s Fog 1975

  21 Gideon’s Drive 1976

  22 Vigilantes & Biscuits Gideon’s Force 1978

  Other Series by John Creasey

  Published or to be published by

  House of Stratus

  Dates given are those of first publication

  ‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)

  ‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)

  ‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)

  ‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)

  ‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)

  ‘The Toff’ (59 titles)

  along with:

  The Masters of Bow Street

  This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.

  Select Synopses

  Gideon’s Night

  On this particular night Commander George Gideon has to deal with a couple of psychopaths who trail pain and blood in their wake. One targets infants, and the other young women on London’s foggy streets. There’s also an explosive gang war in the offing, and one way or another all of these cases are coming to their breathtaking conclusions at the same time. Can Scotland Yard’s finest cope with such a nightmarish scenario, with what would ordinarily be months of time consuming police work crammed into just one night?

  Gideon’s Fire

  Commander George Gideon of Scotland Yard has to deal successively with news of a mass murderer, a depraved maniac, and the deaths of a family in an arson attack on an old building south of the river. This leaves little time for the crisis developing at home …

  Meet the Baron

  John Mannering (The Baron) makes his first appearance in this volume. Lord Fauntley cannot help showing off both his daughter and the security under which his precious jewels are kept. Mannering finds himself attracted to both …. Money is tight and so he plans a burglary, but this fails and unexpected consequnces result. The relationship with Lorna Fauntley flourishes, and a series of high profile thefts and adventures ensure Mannering’s future, so he believes, until Lorna equates him with The Baron. One of the many further twists in this award winning novel occurs when the police appear to seek Mannering’s help, only to have everything turned upside down as the plot develops …

  Shadow The Baron

  John Mannering (‘The Baron’) is called in by Scorland Yard’s Superintendent Bristow to help catch the mysterious jewel thief ‘The Shadow’. No one know the thief’s identity, but he has managed to pull off many high profile robberies. However, as Mannering proceeds to track down the target, he finds the pursuer becomes the pursued … ..

  The House of the Bears

  Standing alone in the bleak Yorkshire Moors is Sir Rufus Marne’s ‘House of the Bears’. Dr. Palfrey is asked to journey there to examine an invalid - whom he finds has disappeared. Moreover, Marne’s daughter lies terribly injured after a fall from the minstrel’s gallery, which Dr. Palfrey discovers was no accident. He sets out to look into both matters, but the discoveries he makes are truly fantastic. A deserted mine, powerful explosive and a submarine all feature in this powerful mystery. The results are even capable of surprising him …

  Inspector West Takes Charge

  Extortion is the name of the game, as one victim after another is ruthlessly targeted. Chief Inspector Roger West must now solve the problem, along with a tangle of murders - but the case becomes more frightening as every minute passes.

  The Case Against Paul Raeburn

  Chief Inspector Roger West has been watching and waiting for over two years - he is determined to catch Paul Raeburn out. The millionaire racketeer may have made a mistake, following the killing of a small time crook. Can the ace detective triumph over the evil Raeburn in what are very difficult circumstances? This cannot be assumed as not eveything, it would seem, is as simple as it first appears …..

  Introducing The Toff

  The Toff is the Hon. Richard Rollison; the ultimate sleuth who revels in solving crimes. Whilst returning hom
e across the Essex countryside from a day’s cricket at his father’s Norfolk home, he happens upon an accident that sets him on a new trail. This involves murder, suspense and thrilling action as The Toff applies his mind with its usual precision and thoroughness.

  The Toff in New York

  ‘Say, Miss Hall, I hope that brother of yours hasn’t run into any trouble.’ But Will Hall had been kidnapped and the Honourable Richard Rollison, known by many by the apt if absurd soubriquet of the ‘Toff’ is soon on the scene, but not before a murdered man had fallen into Valerie Hallís arms. There’s lots of action in ‘millionaire surroundings’, with a rich private eye and the NYPD all on the case, whilst the Toff tracks Dutch Himmy, surely the worst man in New York … ..

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