by John Creasey
‘Very clear,’ murmured Palfrey.
‘I’ll make it clear soon. The woman might be in any moment. They give you service here.’ Almost on his words she came in with a huge plateful. When she had gone, Drusilla poured out the tea.
‘Well?’ said Palfrey snappishly.
‘I know, you’re curious. All right,’ said Kyle. ‘Susie and I and one or two friends have been chasing Fyson’s bunch for a long while. A very long while. We don’t know them all. We know Fyson and Frenchie and Rose – that’s Frenchie’s girl. And that reminds me,’ went on Kyle, ‘what happened to Rose?’
‘She went to Bristol,’ said Palfrey. ‘At least, she got on the Bristol bus.’
‘Did she then! That’s a new one. I’ve only known her in London. Maybe she’s in a show there.’
‘A show?’ asked Drusilla.
‘Sure, she’s a Footlight Fanny,’ said Kyle. ‘Chorus. Getting sinewy in the leg, too; they’ll soon put her in the back row. But she can dance. I’m sorry for her, but she should pick her company better than she does. If Frenchie felt that way, he would break her neck and leave her cold and be necking someone else the same night. I’ve known Frenchie longer than I’ve known any of them,’ said Kyle, and his eyes glittered. ‘It’s no secret that I don’t like that guy.’
‘Well, he’s probably got the stomach-ache now,’ said Palfrey. ‘Where is he?’
Kyle grinned. ‘He’s gone to bye-byes!’ He raised an eyebrow when he saw Drusilla’s expression. ‘No, Mrs. Palfrey, I do not mean that he’s been killed. Susie and I don’t do that kind of thing except in emergency. Like the other night,’ he went on. ‘I would have killed Fyson if he’d given any more trouble, but that would have been in self-defence, wouldn’t it? Not to mention Mrs. Palfrey’s defence!’
Palfrey said: ‘What we owed you for the other night has been repaid, Kyle.’
Kyle’s expression changed. In a flash, he looked bleak, wary, and dangerous. He said: ‘What does that crack mean, Palfrey?’
Palfrey said: ‘I don’t like people who kidnap Frenchmen in Cheddar Gorge and spirit away people from the cliff-side – unless they’ve got a good reason. Unless I know the reason, too.’
‘I’m trying to tell you, aren’t I?’
‘You’re wondering how little will serve to satisfy me,’ said Palfrey. ‘A little won’t.’
Tell me something first. How much have you told the police?’
‘Everything, except the rendezvous here. As I was followed by the police, that didn’t make a great deal of difference,’ said Palfrey. ‘Snub, the broken-nosed man who followed you, had been following me. He’s probably still in Cheddar. I saw him telephoning a report to his Inspector after he came back.’
‘I get it,’ said Kyle, rubbing his tuft of hair. ‘All right, Palfrey, we know where we stand. That Fyson trick was to stop you getting to see Loretta Morne. Fyson won’t talk more than that, I’ve tried all I know to make him, but he won’t say anything else. But it was enough for a start. He didn’t want you to see Loretta. Why?’
Palfrey said: ‘Loretta had something to give me.’
‘What?’
Palfrey laughed. ‘Shall we leave that until later?’
Kyle looked at him speculatively. Then abruptly: ‘Was it a map, Palfrey?’
Drusilla’s expression gave it away.
‘So it was a map. I’ll give a lot for that map.’
‘The police have it,’ said Palfrey.
‘That’s too bad,’ drawled Kyle. ‘You made a mistake there. Was it the original map?’
‘It only showed up on the paper when it was heated.’
‘Then it was a copy,’ said Kyle, with some relief. ‘It wasn’t the original; maybe Fyson’s friends still have that. Palfrey, you want to know what I’m after. I can’t go any further than saying that I want that map. It’s important. It’s worth plenty. To get that map, Fyson and Frenchie and their friends have gone to a lot of trouble, and I’ve put myself out quite a bit.’ He learned forward and bared his right forearm. From just above the wrist almost to the elbow was a long, thin scar. ‘I got that in the process, Palfrey. A present from Frenchie. That’s how badly I want it.’
‘Why?’
‘For business reasons,’ said Kyle, emphasising the ‘business’.
‘That isn’t good enough,’ said Palfrey.
‘It will have to be,’ Kyle retorted.
‘Then I can’t help you.’ Palfrey was abrupt.
Kyle said: ‘Palfrey, I’m not my own master. I’ve written asking how much I can tell you. I haven’t got the answer yet. I can say this: that map is dynamite.’ He laughed, a sudden, unexpected sound. ‘It’s more than dynamite! And it’s dangerous to a lot of people, a lot of decent folk who live a good life and don’t know what’s coming to them one day if I don’t get that map and all the copies. Fyson’s friends have a copy of the map, but I don’t think they know the place it refers to. I know that if Fyson’s friends find the place there will be a lot of trouble for those decent folk.’
‘Very touching,’ murmured Palfrey.
Kyle snapped: ‘I’m serious.’
‘So am I. Who are Fyson’s friends?’
‘Tell me that and you’ll tell me plenty,’ said Kyle. He relaxed again. ‘I’ve been trying to find out for months. I know Fyson, Rose and Frenchie and two others. They aren’t big shots. They just do what they’re told. There are plenty of people like that, Palfrey. They’re controlled by a guy whose name I don’t know, but I do know they’re scared of him. He’s dynamite, too. Maybe it’s Morne. I wouldn’t know.’
The little tea-room was cold. Outside it was growing dark and rain began to spatter sharply against the window.
The woman came in. ‘Would you like anything else?’ she asked. Obviously she was anxious to close the café.
Kyle took out his wallet, put two pound notes on the table, looked up at her with a bright smile, and said: ‘Sure. A fire. And maybe supper, later on.’
She hesitated. ‘Well, sir –’
‘It needn’t be in this room,’ Kyle said.
‘There is a fire in the sitting-room, sir, upstairs.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Kyle.
The parlour was small, crowded with furniture and ornaments, and pleasantly warm. Drusilla sat on a horse-hair sofa and put up her legs. Kyle pushed the sofa in front of the fire, and he and Palfrey sat in saddle-back armchairs on either side. The woman replenished the fire, then left them alone.
A car passed outside, they could hear the wheels splashing. Rain beat on the windows, which rattled unexpectedly under a sudden gust of wind.
‘Sure,’ said Kyle. ‘It might be Rufus Morne.’
Is that a guess? ‘
‘A pretty wild guess,’ Kyle admitted, very serious now. Drusilla looked at him and wished he would smile, showing the flash of his white teeth. ‘I make it only because his daughter told you where to find the copy of that map. I have been wondering why she wanted to tell you. She might know what Morne’s up to. She might think she knows. She might prefer someone to find out. What do you know about this Loretta, Palfrey?’
‘That she’s been nearly murdered three times,’ said Palfrey.
‘Maybe by her father,’ Kyle said.
Palfrey had a quick vivid mental picture of Morne, standing with his back to the fire, haggard of face, bedraggled after his wandering on the moor. A tormented soul.
‘Why, did she have this fellow Garth staying with her?’ demanded Kyle, abruptly.
‘Who is Garth?’ asked Drusilla.
‘One of Fyson’s friends,’ said Kyle, and laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not the leader, Palfrey, but more important than Fyson or Frenchie. I don’t know whether that’s his real name, but I do know he’s a scientist, Palfrey.’
Palfrey said: ‘ “Scientist” is a loose term.’
‘Loose? I guess so. He’s a physicist. He’s been working on something – I don’t know what.’
He did know; Palfrey fe
lt sure of that. Kyle knew he knew much more than he had yet told them, and he would not talk more freely yet. To try to make him would be a waste of time.
Kyle said: ‘I hunted Garth out of the place where he lived, Palfrey. I hunted him out of his laboratory. I’ve chased him all over England and in parts of Europe. I’ve made his life hell, and I will again. But I’ve never caught up with him. I’ve never found out what he’s working on. I got this far and lost him.’
‘This far?’
‘He was in Cheddar for a week at least,’ said Kyle; ‘and since he’s been gone, Frenchie and Fyson have been down here. I thought they’d got Garth hidden here some place until I went after Fyson one day and we fetched up on Wenlock cliffs. That was the night you came along. You told me there had been a Garth at Morne House. I guess it was the same man.’
‘He was there for some weeks.’
‘After I’d got hold of Fyson, Susie told me that Frenchie was still around here. So I came back. Frenchie was looking for me of course; he thought he’d got me this afternoon.’ Kyle laughed.
‘Why did Susie drive off?’ asked Drusilla.
‘The police will be looking for the Packard,’ Kyle said, dryly. ‘I wanted to see you or I wouldn’t have, come back through the gorge. She drove off so they wouldn’t realise I was here. I want Garth, and they say he left Morne House the day Loretta was hurt. I don’t know much more about that house, Palfrey, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re still hiding Garth there. Did anyone see the ambulance that was supposed to take him away?’
Palfrey said: ‘Yes. The police know there was an ambulance there that morning.’
‘Garth needn’t have been in it,’ said Kyle. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘Oh, that’s possible,’ admitted Palfrey.
‘That’s what I want you to do,’ said Kyle. ‘Find out if Garth is still there.’ He grinned crookedly, but his eyes were wary. ‘It’s not so much to ask, Palfrey. I don’t want you to do anything about the guy. Just find out if he’s at Morne House, and let me know. I’ll do the rest.’
‘Not without telling the police,’ Palfrey declared.
‘I can’t work with the police, Palfrey.’
‘I can’t work against them.
‘I’m not a criminal,’ Kyle said. ‘I’m working for a man who wants to put things right.’ He was very earnest now. ‘Maybe I haven’t acted according to the law with Fyson and Frenchie, but they won’t be hurt.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Listen to me, Palfrey. When I’ve got Garth, I’ll turn Fyson and Frenchie over to the police, with plenty of evidence to make a case against them. More than enough evidence. I won’t wait until I’ve got Garth, I’ll turn them over when you tell me if Garth is at Morne Houses Can we agree on that?’
Palfrey smiled. ‘Fyson and Frenchie have been kidnapped, Kyle. You kidnapped them. That’s a criminal offence. I can’t condone it’
‘You’re hard,’ said Kyle, ‘but I’m offering to set them free. Or as near free as they’ll get for a long time. I wouldn’t do that if I thought the police would let them go. You’ll be doing nothing wrong. Will he, Mrs. Palfrey? You’ll be making sure that Fyson and Frenchie get humane treatment.’
‘Where are they now?’ asked Drusilla lightly, a shade too lightly, but it nearly worked, for Kyle said: They’re in –’ He broke off and grinned. “That was neat, Mrs. Palfrey! They’re in a safe place, I guess, and being well looked after.’
Palfrey sipped his drink. ‘We’re wasting time,’ he said, ‘I can’t do anything to help you without first telling the police. They may agree that it’s worth trying. If they do, they’ll be looking for you as well as Garth. You’ll have more risks, but you’ll have a chance.’
Kyle said thoughtfully: ‘That’s worth thinking about.’ There was a long pause. Then abruptly: ‘Okay. Tell the police!’
“That’s more like it,’ said Palfrey.
‘You’ll do nothing to help them to get me, will you?’
Palfrey laughed. ‘There isn’t much I can do, is there? After tonight, you’ll be washed up in the gorge, of course; they’ll keep this place watched closely, and I shall have to give them a description of you.’
‘You’re hard,’ said Kyle.
Someone knocked on the street door.
Kyle got up and opened the door of the room. They could hear the woman walking through the café to open the street door. A man’s voice sounded. The woman said: ‘I really don’t know.’ The man spoke again, and his words were audible this time. ‘Is anyone here, please? The man is tall, rather thin–’
Drusilla exclaimed: ‘That’s Mac!’
Palfrey got up, Kyle turned round sharply. ‘Who’s Mac?’
‘Bruce McDonald,’ Palfrey said. ‘He followed Rose this afternoon.’
‘Did he!’ said Kyle. ‘Who is he?’
‘A friend.’
‘A police friend?’
‘Confound you, no!’ Palfrey went out on to the narrow landing and called down. ‘We’re here, Mac!’
‘So they are your friends,’ said the woman. ‘Let me take your coat, sir. You’re drenched.’
‘Thanks, but I haven’t time,’ said McDonald.
‘We’ll come down,’ said Palfrey. He led the way down the dimly lighted stairs.
‘Let me have a word in private with my friends, will you?’ he asked the woman.
She said: ‘I’ve nearly got supper ready, sir,’ to Kyle.
‘That’s fine,’ said Kyle. ‘Maybe I’ll have to ask you to keep it hot,’ He led her out firmly, and the others stood in the little front room, among the empty chairs and tables set for the next day’s meals. McDonald was obviously eager to tell his story, but glanced doubtfully at Kyle.
‘I’m in this,’ said Kyle. Palfrey nodded.
‘Right!’ said McDonald. ‘I followed the girl to Bristol, Palfrey. She went to a rooming-house at the back of the Theatre Royal, stayed for a while and then came away with a man. They got on the first bus back to Cheddar: it arrived half an hour ago. They walked up the gorge and – vanished!’
Palfrey echoed: ‘Vanished?’
‘Yes, into the side of the cliff. I think I heard them go up some steps, but I couldn’t swear to that. I did find a flight of steps, but I thought you might be waiting here, and –’ Kyle was already putting on his raincoat.
‘We’re going for a walk,’ he said. He went to the doorway and called out: ‘Sorry, honey, we’ve got a little job to do, but we’ll be right back for the supper.’ He was looking at Drusilla, and added: ‘Can you lend my lady friend a mackintosh?’
Palfrey said: ‘You’ll stay and keep warm, ‘Silla, won’t you?’
‘I’d rather have a mackintosh,’ said Drusilla. ‘But if she can’t lend me one, I’ll get my coat wet’
Kyle laughed. The woman found a mackintosh which was rather short, but Drusilla managed to pull it on over her fur coat.
Soon they were out on the road. The rain was teeming down, and occasionally a fierce gust of wind drove down the gorge, so powerful that they had to stand still and battle against it. During the lulls, Kyle asked questions and McDonald answered in monosyllables.
‘The only steps I know lead to Gough’s Caves,’ Kyle said. ‘We’re about there now. The couple just vanished, did they?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gough’s Caves,’ murmured Kyle. A gust of wind howled down the gorge and took his breath away. They all stood still. As the wind died down, the headlights of a car travelling down the gorge picked them out, and Kyle muttered to himself. The car served them a good turn, for its headlights showed some steps leading to the caves, not far ahead of them.
They reached the steps and Kyle stopped.
‘What’s it to be?’ he asked.
For a moment no one answered. The wind howled and died away again; and then they heard a scream.
It was not imagination; all four of them heard it and started and looked at one another. It came again, high-pitched, seemingly from a long way off, and ended
abruptly. There was silence; for a moment even the wind was hushed,
Drusilla said in a shaky voice: ‘It came from – the cave.’
“Let’s go!’ exclaimed Kyle.
He led the way up the steps. Palfrey took Drusilla’s arm, let McDonald go in front, and whispered: ‘I’ve got to find out what that was. I’m not taking you inside. Will you give us twenty minutes? Well, say half an hour. Then fetch the police.’
Drusilla said: ‘I suppose I’d better.’
Palfrey squeezed her hand. ‘It’s the best we can do,’ he thought. Kyle would not agree with it, of course, but then Kyle need not know.
They reached the top of the steps and then they heard a car splashing down the gorge. Curiously, all the traffic seemed to come down, none went up. They sprang towards the wall of the pay-box, to be out of sight. The headlamps shone a bright glow which spread about the windows of the souvenir shop, on the signs, even as far as the entrance of the cave itself. There was an iron trellis grill across the entrance, and outside the grill there was plenty of room for Drusilla to shelter from the wind and rain.
The car passed.
‘Okay,’ said Kyle and stepped forward. ‘Don’t show a light, any of you.’ He was holding a lighted torch in his hand. A dim red glow showed where it shone through his fingers. That was all they could see of it; only his fingers were visible, then a few inches of the iron trellis gate. He pulled at it, but it did not open.
‘That’s a pity,’ he said, ‘but it shouldn’t take long.’
A moment later metal clinked on metal. Now they could just see the fingers of his other hand, holding what looked like a narrow piece of steel. It glinted as he twisted. The scraping of metal against metal continued until there was a sharp click.
‘You see, I’m not so bad,’ he said, and there was a chuckle in his voice. ‘Palfrey, I’m prepared to go alone.’
‘No,’ said Palfrey.
‘You add to the risks, you know. I don’t want to lead you into trouble.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Palfrey. ‘Eh, Mac?’
