The Enemy Within

by Edward Marston

  ‘Why did he want to get out of here?’

  ‘We all want to get out of this hellhole.’

  ‘But what was the reason Wally Hubbard gave?’

  ‘He had a score to settle.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Wally said that he had to get out of here to kill someone.’

  ‘And who was that someone – Inspector Marmion?’

  ‘No,’ replied Barter.

  ‘Then who was it?’

  ‘It was a man he hated – Ben Croft.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It had never been Alice Marmion’s intention to join the police force. She’d been perfectly happy in her job as a teacher, enjoying the work and being adored by her pupils. War had rearranged her priorities. After a testing spell with the Women’s Emergency Corps, she’d followed her father and her fiancé into law enforcement. Unlike them, she had limited powers and was not involved in dealing with serious crime of any kind but she nevertheless felt that she was performing a useful duty. When she was out on patrol that morning, her partner was Iris Goodliffe, a chubby young woman whose only previous job had been in a family pharmacy business. On a chilly day, they kept up a steady, unvarying pace.

  ‘You ought to be promoted, Alice,’ said Iris.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘I’m being serious. You’re too intelligent to walk the beat.’

  ‘Everyone has to do that at the start.’

  ‘Yes, but you’ve served your apprenticeship now. Inspector Gale must see how much brighter you are than the rest of us. Police work is in your blood. Your father is a famous detective.’

  ‘That’s the very reason I’ll never be considered for promotion,’ said Alice, resignedly. ‘Gale Force will never forgive me for being the daughter of a detective inspector and engaged to a detective sergeant. She can’t cope with it somehow.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate her. She has her virtues and she knows a good policewoman when she sees one.’

  ‘I agree – unless she happens to be looking at me.’

  Alice gave a brittle laugh. After all this time, she was still having problems with Inspector Gale, a woman who seemed to divide people into friends and enemies. While Alice was kept very firmly in the enemy section, Iris was treated as a friend. It was deliberate and it irked Alice. She was always pleased to be on patrol with Iris because the latter was such pleasant company. Committed to her job, Iris was vigilant and quite fearless when having to confront someone. Though her uniform was still too tight for her, she now looked and sounded like a real policewoman.

  ‘There are some good films on at the moment,’ she said, fishing gently.

  ‘I wish I had the time to see one of them.’

  ‘Try to make time, Alice.’

  ‘I’ve got too much to do.’

  ‘All work and no play …’

  ‘I’m not that dull, am I?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Iris with a laugh. ‘You should pamper yourself a little more, that’s all. If you want to see a film, I’ll always go with you.’

  ‘Thanks, Iris, I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘It’s ages since we went to the cinema.’

  Alice remembered the occasion only too well. It had been months ago. They saw and enjoyed a film together before going on to a bar. Having only seen Iris when she was sober, Alice was not prepared for what happened when her friend had had a couple of drinks. Iris had become loud, brash and very embarrassing. In the end, Iris had had to be hustled out of the bar by Alice. It was an experience that was never repeated. Happy to work alongside her, Alice kept her at an arm’s length when off duty.

  ‘I’m going to the hairdresser on my day off,’ said Iris.

  ‘You deserve a treat.’

  ‘I’m going to change the style completely and have it much more like yours.’

  Alice was wary. ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it may not suit you.’

  Iris grinned. ‘What you mean is that it’s perfect for a lovely face like yours but it would be wrong for someone like me with a big head and bulging cheeks.’

  ‘You have a very nice face.’

  ‘It’s too fat.’

  ‘Mummy says that mine is starting to look too thin.’

  ‘Then I wish I knew how you managed it,’ said Iris, wistfully. ‘I’m eating less and getting more exercise but my weight keeps going up.’

  ‘We can’t all be the same.’

  ‘I’d just like to be attractive.’

  ‘You are,’ promised Alice. ‘Men are not blind. Sooner or later, one of them will notice. In fact, one of them already has. Joe said how good-looking you were.’

  Iris rallied. ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes, he did and he meant it.’

  Though Alice was glad to put a broad smile back on her colleague’s face, the latest news worried her. Iris already wore her hat at the same angle as her and had picked up all of Alice’s favourite phrases. Having started using the same cosmetics as her when off duty, she was now planning to have a similar hairstyle. Iris was aping her in every way. There was an even more disturbing development to come.

  ‘How is your brother?’ asked Iris.

  ‘Oh, he’s … very much the same.’

  ‘Does he still spend all his time alone?’

  ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘Then he needs a girlfriend, someone who could bring a spark into his life. What happened to him at the Somme was terrible. He needs help to get over it.’ Iris turned to her. ‘I’d love to meet him one day.’

  Alice felt quietly horrified.

  With the governor as his guide, Marmion followed the route that Wally Hubbard had taken. When they started outside the main door to one of the wings, the inspector noticed the bloodstains on the ground. That was the point where Pearce had been clubbed into unconsciousness. The storeroom to which he’d been carried or dragged was only a short distance away. It would have taken seconds to get there. In the gloom, nobody would have seen a thing. When they inspected the storeroom, Marmion saw some more blood spatters. Evidently, the warder had been hit very hard.

  ‘I’d like to question him, if I may, sir,’ said Marmion.

  ‘He’s still a bit groggy.’

  ‘Has he been able to tell you anything?’

  ‘Not really,’ said the governor. ‘He keeps mumbling apologies.’

  ‘The poor man must feel very guilty at what happened.’

  ‘Pearce must take some blame, Inspector. It was a bad mistake and a great pity. Until now, he had a spotless record.’

  ‘Is he a married man?’

  ‘Yes, his wife has been informed that we had a … spot of bother. We’re not letting her see her husband until he’s in slightly better shape.’ He extended a hand. ‘This way, Inspector …’

  It was a fair walk to the hospital area but it gave Marmion the chance to see parts of Pentonville he’d never visited before. In the wake of the escape, security had been tightened. More officers were on duty and all prisoners had been kept locked in their cells. When they entered the room where the wounded man was being tended, they saw that he had dozed off. Pearce was in a sorry state. His head was encircled with thick bandaging and he’d acquired ugly bruises on his face as he’d struck the ground. One lip was badly swollen. The governor offered to rouse him but Marmion raised a hand, indicating that he was ready to wait until the warder woke up in his own time. He sat down beside the bed. Wilson-Smith left him alone with the patient and the nurse.

  In the event, Pearce seemed to know that someone wanted to speak to him. His eyelids fluttered, his head moved and he slowly stirred. The nurse moved in to help him sit a little more upright.

  ‘Hello, Mr Pearce,’ said Marmion, gently. ‘I hate to bother you like this but you may be able to help us. I’m Inspector Marmion from Scotland Yard and my job is to catch the man who escaped.’

  It was an effort for Pearce to speak. The words dribbled out slowly.

>   ‘Wally Hubbard tricked me.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for my brother, it would never have happened.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Leslie was killed in combat in France, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Pearce.’

  ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to lose a member of your family?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ explained Marmion, softly. ‘My father was murdered when he was on duty as a policeman. As for the war, my own son was injured at the Battle of the Somme and invalided back home. I know all about grief, believe me,’ he said, soulfully, ‘but that’s not to minimise what you’ve suffered. The news must have come as a shattering blow. Tell me about your brother.’

  ‘Leslie was a policeman before he joined up,’ said Pearce, fondly. ‘He always wanted a job with plenty of action. As soon as the war broke out, he enlisted like a shot. He thought we’d give the Germans a good hiding and that it would all be over by Christmas.’

  ‘A lot of people made the mistake of thinking that.’

  ‘The war dragged on and on and our lads died in their thousands. But Leslie was somehow untouched. He seemed to have a charmed life and walked away from every battle.’ His eyes moistened. ‘Then his luck ran out.’

  ‘How did you hear?’

  ‘We had a telegram. That’s what started it off, see.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I mentioned it to Hubbard. I told him about Leslie.’

  ‘And he pretended to be sympathetic, I daresay.’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ said Pearce, bitterly. ‘I know he committed a dreadful crime but he’s not rotten to the core like some of them. I’d never turn my back on most of the people in here, Inspector. It would be too risky. Wally Hubbard was different. He showed an interest. That’s why I told him about my plan. Because of what happened to my brother, I was thinking of joining up. To be honest, I could think of nothing else.’

  ‘So you were distracted when you let him out of his cell.’

  ‘I was – and this is the result.’

  He touched the bandage and winced in pain. Marmion felt sorry for the man. Nursing a private sorrow, he’d made himself vulnerable and the prisoner had struck.

  ‘I could lose my job over this,’ said Pearce, sadly.

  ‘That’s very unlikely. The governor knows you have a good record here.’

  ‘I’d have expected it of Barter – but not Hubbard.’

  ‘What is his cellmate like?’

  Pearce wrinkled his nose. ‘He’s the scum of the earth, Inspector,’ he said. ‘As soon as he’s released, he’ll go back to his old ways.’

  ‘How did Hubbard get on with him?’

  Marmion probed him for details of anyone who seemed to have befriended Hubbard and who might conceivably have aided his escape. Pearce could think of nobody. Hubbard, he explained, had taken care to isolate himself.

  ‘He kept his head down, Inspector.’

  ‘Did anyone bother him?’

  ‘They wouldn’t dare. He was convicted of trying to burn someone to death. That gave him status. Respect is important in here. Compare him to Barter, who used to burgle houses in Stepney and snatch bags off old ladies. Nobody respected him.’

  Pearce talked at length about life in Pentonville and how Hubbard had appeared to fit into it so easily. But he was not simply reviewing what had happened. He was slowly working his way towards an important decision.

  ‘My wife will just have to put up with it,’ he said at length.

  ‘Put up with what?’

  ‘I don’t care if I do get the sack.’

  ‘There’s no chance of that, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ve finished with prison life for a while,’ said the warder, firmly. ‘If they don’t boot me out, I’ll resign. My place is in the trenches. Leslie can’t fight for this country any more but I certainly can.’

  Marmion thought about his son’s situation and he quailed inwardly.

  ‘Whatever you decide,’ he said, quietly, ‘I wish you the best of luck.’

  The visitors came earlier than expected but Ellen Marmion had everything ready. She’d got the best china tea set out and baked a cake for the occasion. Patricia Redwood belonged to the same sewing group as Ellen, meeting on a regular basis to exchange gossip about the war and to knit gloves and other items they deemed useful in the trenches. She was a fleshy woman with a habit of talking too loudly and laughing inappropriately. Her daughter, by contrast, was thin, flat-chested and desperately shy. Because of her ginger hair, she’d been known as Sally Redhead at school and Paul Marmion had been one of the boys who routinely used the irritating nickname. She was not looking forward to meeting him again and was clearly there under duress.

  ‘Sally was so keen to meet Paul after all this time,’ said her mother, clearly unaware of her daughter’s real feelings. ‘She hasn’t seen him for years.’

  ‘He’s changed a lot,’ warned Ellen.

  ‘Yes, he’s a war hero now, isn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t think that Paul would call himself that.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s upstairs in his room at the moment, Pat. I’m hoping that he’ll pop down in due course. Let’s have a cup of tea while we’re waiting, shall we?’

  While Ellen made, then later poured, the tea, her friend delivered a non-stop monologue about the effects of wartime privations, letting out an incongruous laugh from time to time. Even when she was offered a slice of cake, she didn’t stop. She simply popped it into her mouth and carried on speaking.

  ‘If you ask me,’ she said, ‘these submarines are out to starve us all to death. You can’t fight a war on an empty stomach, that’s what I say. Everything will be rationed before long, mark my words. I’ve seen it coming.’

  ‘And what about you, Sally?’ asked Ellen, determined to bring her into the conversation. ‘What are you doing with yourself?’

  ‘Sally has a new job,’ said her mother, proudly.

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the girl, nervously. ‘I start on Monday. It’s in Newsome’s, the jewellery shop in Queen Street.’

  ‘It shows how much they trust her,’ Patricia argued, ‘and it’s a big step up from Woolworth’s. Sally will meet a better class of customer.’

  ‘Are you looking forward to it?’ asked Ellen, deliberately aiming the question at the girl. Sally nodded. ‘What did they ask you at the interview?’

  ‘They just wanted to know what experience I’d had.’

  ‘They’ll train her,’ said the mother, pausing long enough to gulp down some tea. ‘Sally will learn about watches and jewellery, won’t you, dear?’

  ‘Yes, Mummy.’

  ‘That was lovely cake, Ellen.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ellen, ‘would you like another slice?’

  ‘I think I can force another one down.’

  Patricia Redwood rocked with laughter and her daughter gave an obliging titter. Ellen was already regretting the invitation she’d given them. Trying to reunite Paul and his old school friend had not been a good idea. He was hiding upstairs and Sally was shaking with trepidation at the prospect of meeting him again.

  ‘How is his eyesight now?’ asked Patricia.

  ‘It’s steadily improving,’ said Ellen.

  ‘Is he able to get around on his own?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Paul is very independent.’

  ‘Sally could always take him for a walk.’

  The suggestion made Ellen squirm in her seat. It sounded as if Paul was a dog that needed to be taken out on a lead. She was grateful that he was not there to hear the suggestion. When she least expected it, however, she heard his bedroom door open and footsteps descending the stairs. Paul stuck his head into the living room.

  ‘I’m going out,’ he said.

  ‘But we have visitors,’ Ellen pointed out.

  ‘Yes, Sally and I came especially
in the hope of seeing you,’ said Patricia with a girlish giggle. ‘You’re much bigger than I remember. What do you think, Sally?’

  ‘He looks much the same to me,’ the girl piped up. ‘Hello, Paul.’

  ‘Hello, Sally Redhead,’ he replied with a derisive sneer.

  He disappeared at once, leaving the visitors shocked and his mother mortified.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive my son,’ she said, awkwardly. ‘He has moods …’

  After some hours spent in Pentonville, the detectives had adjourned to a nearby cafe so that they could have a lunchtime snack and compare notes. Apart from his lawyer, only two people had visited Wally Hubbard in prison. The first had been an old friend of his, Felix Browne, who had owned a few pubs with Hubbard. They’d had great difficulty tracking him down because he always seemed to be one step ahead of them. It was late afternoon when they eventually cornered him in a small, terraced house that he’d just bought. Browne was supervising renovations to the property. He was a lanky individual with a flashy suit and long dark hair slicked down with brilliantine. At a glance, he knew that they were detectives. Marmion performed the introductions.

  ‘Wally told me about you two,’ he said.

  Keedy smiled. ‘It’s always good to be mentioned in dispatches.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have said that if you’d heard what he called the pair of you.’ Browne exposed a row of tobacco-stained teeth. ‘How did you find me, anyway?’

  ‘Your wife said you’d be driving around your properties.’

  ‘You seem to have quite a lot of them,’ said Marmion.

  ‘That’s what I do,’ explained Browne. ‘I buy, sell and rent out property. Not looking for a place, are you, gents? I got this wonderful three-bedroomed house to rent in Camden Town. Used to belong to a friend of mine, Wally Hubbard, but he won’t be needing it for a while.’

  ‘I see that you don’t read the newspapers, Mr Browne.’

  ‘Why – have I missed something?’

  ‘Hubbard escaped from Pentonville yesterday evening.’