Cobb edged gingerly towards the tree line until he judged he was at the right distance then CRACK! He flicked the whip at the werewolf, CRACK! He whipped it again. The creature yelped in surprise and then growled in anger. Cobb whacked it again and then backed away, egging it on to follow him, luring it out to where Jim could take a shot at it.
‘Just a bit further Cobb, just a bit further,’ encouraged Jim. ‘Now!’
The animal had come completely out of the protection of the trees and was now standing in the open, well lit by the moonlight. Cobb moved quickly aside as Jim came up behind him to shoot the werewolf. He paused for a moment to take aim and the creature froze as it realised what Jim was holding. It could probably sense the silver in the gun and what was about to happen to it.
Jim pulled the trigger but to his dismay, the bullet misfired. It exploded in a puff of smoke causing Jim to drop the gun and clutch his hand to his chest. The beast stepped forward to grab him but Cobb swiped the horsewhip across its snout. It backed away and obviously decided to make the best of the moment and escape. It ran past them and off into the park. Cobb decided that with only the whip to defend them, it would be madness to chase it any further. He let it go and looked to Jim.
Jim’s hand had only been slightly burnt by the misfire and they wrapped it in a handkerchief. As they stood there watching the creature lope across the park, they heard voices behind them and a group of policemen ran up to them, each one armed with a rifle.
‘Where is it? Where did it go to?’ they asked Jim and Cobb.
‘It went thataway,’ said Cobb, pointing across the park. They ran off after it while one stayed behind to speak to them. They told him about the Witchfinder and how they had chased the beast from the East End. He took their details and then left to catch up with his colleagues.
‘Damn that Witchfinder, why can’t he buy decent bullets,’ cursed Jim. ‘I had the blasted thing in my sights and the bullet misfired.’
‘Never mind, at least we’re still alive. Maybe they’ll catch it,’ said Cobb indicating the policemen who had taken over the chase from them.
‘I doubt it,’ said Jim. ‘C’mon let’s get back and see how the Witchfinder is, Adele will be getting worried about you.’
They untied the horse and Jim drove the cab back to the Golden Gryphon. They returned the cab to the cabbie who then drove them to the local hospital, where they found Adele waiting for them. She ran to Cobb and hugged him.
‘Cobb, I’m so glad to see you alive. You too Jim.’
‘What’s with the Witchfinder?’ Cobb asked her.
‘The doctors have treated him. The wounds looked bad, there will be lots of scarring but no major organs were damaged, they were protected by his ribs.’
‘But what about … you know … being bitten by a werewolf?’ asked Jim.
‘Well, they were scratches not bites,’ she explained, ‘and nobody knows what difference that might make. Werewolf physiology and its effects on normal humans isn’t a very well known subject in this country. They’ll just have to watch him and see what happens. Deirdre is going to stay with him tonight, I’d said I’d look in on her tomorrow.’
‘Come on,’ said Cobb gently, ‘let’s get you home. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one night.’
The Great Seal
Cobb was sitting in his office, with his feet up on his desk, sipping tea and reading the paper. Adele wouldn’t let him put his feet up anywhere else in the house but the office was his private domain, he could do what he liked.
Suddenly the door flew open and Won Lungh rushed in, slammed the door behind him and threw his body against it, arms wide as if to bar the door against intruders. ‘Quick,’ he gasped, ‘Police! You grab money, I get Missee Adele. We go out back way, pretty damn sharpish.’
Cobb slopped tea down himself as Won Lungh’s sudden entrance frightened the willies out of him. ‘What the devil are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘We aren’t in trouble with the police, we don’t have to run.’
Won Lungh’s expression went from desperate, to puzzled, to an embarrassed grin. ‘So sorry Missa Cobb, force of habit, used to running away when I see policeman.’
Cobb got up and went to the front door to see what had Won Lungh in such a tizzy. He opened the door to find a uniformed policeman standing on his doorstep with a truncheon in his hand, raised over his head, ready to deal a bruising blow. It was his old friend Inspector George Benton. He reined in his blow when he saw it was Cobb opening the door.
‘There you are Cobb,’ he said with relief. ‘I thought you’d all been murdered by some mad Cantonese man. I was just about to raise the alarm.’
‘It’s all right George, no need to worry; he’s just my butler. He ... er ... startles easily.’
‘Butler eh? We are getting posh, aren’t we?’
‘Knock it off George, he’s Adele’s servant really, they came as a package. Come along in.’ He led the way into his office.
‘Nice to see you George, can I offer you some tea?’
‘No thanks Cobb, haven’t got time. Just came to deliver a message from Sir Arthur.’
(Sir Arthur Wilberforce was commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, the highest policeman in the land. Cobb had worked under him when he had been at Caledonia Yard.)
‘Sir Arthur?’ enquired Cobb. ‘What does he want with me?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said George. ‘He called me into his office this morning and asked me to deliver a message to you. He said, as I was friend of yours, it wouldn’t look suspicious, me calling round to see you.’
‘Curious,’ said Cobb.
‘And then to make it even stranger, he asked me not to mention this visit or the message to anyone. He was most insistent about that.’
‘Okay, I’ll bite, what’s the message?’
‘He asked if you could meet him on the Embankment, near Cleolaine’s Needle at two o clock. He’ll be waiting there in a carriage. Once again he asked that you mention this to no one.’
‘And you’ve no idea what this is about? No scuttlebutt, no gossip?’
‘Whatever it is, it seems to be outside the force, “Rumour Control” has come up with nothing on this.’
‘Oh well,’ said Cobb, ‘maybe it’s something personal then.’
‘Can I tell him you’ll be there?’ asked George.
‘I like the old guy and he was always fair to me, so yes, tell him I’ll be there.’
***
Punctually at two o’clock Cobb was waiting on the Embankment by Cleolaine’s Needle. He had actually gotten there earlier and checked the place out but he couldn’t see anyone or anything suspicious. Even though it was Sir Arthur he was meeting, whom he knew and trusted, the secret summons to a clandestine meeting was all very suspicious.
As Cobb stared across the River Isis to the Houses of Parliament, he heard his name called. He turned around and saw an unmarked carriage with the windows covered. The plot thickens, he thought. As he approached the carriage, the door swung open and Sir Arthur beckoned him into the coach.
‘Thank you for coming Cobb.’
‘Well, your invitation was just too intriguing to refuse. What can I do for you?’
‘Your country needs you,’ Sir Arthur said ponderously, sounding like a recruiting poster.
‘You don’t want me to join the Army, do you?’ asked Cobb.
‘No, no, nothing like that. I need you to do some detective work for me.’
‘It may have escaped your attention Sir Arthur but you actually work in a building that is full of detectives,’ Cobb interjected.
‘Yes but none of them will ever be as good as you were. Oh forget the false modesty,’ he said as Cobb protested, ‘you were the best we had in your time at the Yard. That’s why I want you now.
‘Besides, this investigation has to be carried out in total, absolute, secrecy. If the press or the opposition get hold of this, heads could roll, including mine, and the government could fall.’
‘No it hasn’t, replied Sir Arthur with a smile. ‘I wish it was that easy but it’s much more serious than that. That is why the matter must be investigated by someone outside the force. We could never keep it secret if the Yard were involved.
‘So, will you help us? You can name your own price, use any measures you think necessary, just solve the case.’
‘Okay,’ said Cobb, ‘let’s hear the details.’
‘Have you been reading in the papers about the visit of the Grand Duke and Duchess of Pils-Holstein?’ asked Sir Arthur.
‘Yes, King Victor’s been entertaining them up at Buck House.’
‘Well, they go there for receptions and the like but they are actually staying at King James’ Palace. Now, whenever they travel abroad, they carry with them a thing called The Great Seal of Pils-Holstein. It’s made of gold, its oval and about nine inches long. It is always guarded and while they are staying at King James’, the strong-box in which it is contained is locked in a cage, which is inside a strong-room, that is guarded by an armed soldier and the strong-room is in the basement of the Palace, which has an army detail from Chelsea Barracks protecting it.’
‘Well that seems pretty secure … what’s the problem?’
‘It was stolen the night before last.’
‘You’re joking!’ exclaimed Cobb.
‘I wish I was,’ said Sir Arthur with a sigh. ‘The Pils-Holstein people have their own detail of guards with them who check on it every day. Yesterday morning they found it missing. The strong-box was still locked, as was the cage and the strong-room. The various soldiers who guarded it throughout the night, deny leaving their post or seeing anyone enter or leave during their spell on duty.
‘Anyway, as you can imagine, this hasn’t gone down too well with the Pils-Holstein lot. The king and the prime minister are embarrassed and the chances of Pils-Holstein signing a new treaty with us are, shall we say, seriously diminished. The only chance of saving the day is if we recover the Seal, fast! Which is where, I hope, you come in.’
‘So do we have any idea who might have done it? Someone trying to ruin the treaty perhaps?’ asked Cobb.
‘That’s the assumption we are working on. The Ostro-Ungarian Empire stands to gain if the treaty falls through. But let’s hope that doesn’t happen, I want you to find that Seal and recover it. What do you say, will you do it?’
Cobb shrugged and said, ‘Well, if my country needs me ...’
‘Good man, I knew I could rely on you. We have quarantined the entire guard detail from that night, twelve men, one SNCO and their officer, so we can question them privately. They are being held in their barracks, only their CO and his Adjutant know what’s going on.’ He banged on the roof of the carriage with his stick. ‘Driver ... Chelsea Barracks please.’ As the coach pulled away, Sir Arthur began to fill Cobb in on some of the finer details.
***
Sir Arthur’s coach pulled into Chelsea Barracks and a soldier opened the door for them as they climbed out. They strode up to the guard house and Sir Arthur told them, ‘Sir Arthur Wilberforce and Mr. Cobb to see Colonel Trap-Handler.’ The soldier made them sign in and the one of the guard was detailed to take them to the CO.
They followed him as he marched across the parade ground and led them to a building facing the square and into an outer office where their guide introduced them to the clerk in the outer office. His duty done, the guard did an about face and went back to the guard room. The clerk asked them to wait and went into the room of the Adjutant and told him they were there.
He came out and introduced himself, ‘Good day gentlemen, I’m the battalion Adjutant, Major Izewater.’
‘Good day Major. I’m Sir Arthur Wilberforce, the police commissioner, this is Mr. Cobb. I believe that Colonel Trap-Handler is expecting us.’
‘Ah, yes, I believe he is. Would you excuse me for a moment, Sir Arthur? I’ll let him know you’re here.’
He went to another door, knocked gently and then went in. A moment later he came back out and gestured to Cobb and Sir Arthur that they should enter. Once they were in the room he introduced them to Colonel Trap-Handler who was standing behind the desk. He was tall thin man whose complexion showed that he had spent a large part of his army career defending the interests of the crown under foreign suns. However, the slight limp he displayed when he came around the desk to shake hands, perhaps explained why he now served here at home.
‘Pleased to meet you Sir Arthur, Mr. Cobb, I just wish it wasn’t under such unfortunate circumstances.’
‘Mr. Cobb, is here in a private capacity, he is not a member of the Metropolitan Police Force,’ said Sir Arthur. ‘However, he has my complete confidence and is to be given access to the fullest details of the case.’
‘As you wish, Sir Arthur,’ replied Colonel Trap-Handler. ‘Well in that case perhaps we should go over the troop disposition and the layout of King James’ Palace. I have a map of the Palace on my desk, just been studying it.’
He led them to his desk and they stood around it looking at the map as Major Izewater served them coffee.
‘A little background first might be appropriate, gentlemen. This is a transit battalion, by that I mean that we are simply a place to store soldiers while they await release to their next posting. This could be because they are returning to duty after injury, or are fresh out of training and waiting to be shipped out to their units overseas. So they come here while they wait. The only permanent staff are myself, Major Izewater the Adjutant, the RSM and all the SNCO’s. All the rest are just waiting for their turn to leave.’
‘And all the permanent staff have been here some time?’ asked Cobb.
‘Yes, at least three years, all of us,’ replied the colonel. ‘Anyway, we have to keep them occupied while they’re here. One of the duties of the battalion is to guard the lesser Palaces and government buildings that don’t warrant a full dress guard such as the Household Cavalry or one of the Guards regiments. So that is why were guarding the King James’ Palace that particular night.’
‘So tell me about the troops, how many, where they were stationed, etc.?’ asked Cobb.
‘Well, as you can see from the map, the Palace is rectangular, with a central garden, which makes it easy to guard and patrol. A guard of one officer, one SNCO and a detail of twelve men does the trick. Four men guarding each of the corners where they can see each other, and they each patrol one side of the Palace, meeting on the corners, so there is little or no chance of one of them being taken out without being spotted. One man in the garden and as this was a special case; we were specifically requested by Downing Street to put an armed guard on the strong-room. Six men in each shift, two hours on, two hours off. Sometime during the night, the strong-room was broken into and the Great Seal stolen without leaving a trace, the strong-room is intact. It’s all quite puzzling, I’m baffled I’m afraid,’ admitted the colonel.
‘So it looks like … if nobody broke in during the night, then it must have been an inside job,’ said Cobb. ‘Either the soldiers or the servants. What do we know about the servants, Sir Arthur?’
‘Well, they are being checked of course but they have all worked in the service of the crown for years. There’s no particular reason to suspect them but we won’t rule them out of course.’
‘Sorry to say this Colonel,’ said Cobb, ‘but on the face of it, it looks like your men are the culprits.’
The colonel wasn’t convinced however. ‘But that doesn’t make sense, soldiers are coming and going from the battalion all the time, it’s a constantly changing population, sometimes they’re here for just a few weeks. So all twelve men are unlikely to be involved in some deep conspiracy, as they hardly know each other. They’re never here long enough to form relationships with the other soldiers.’
‘Men,’ replied the Adjutant. ‘Everybody rotates their position each time they take post, so they don’t get stale. Therefore we have several men responsible for guarding the strong-room throughout the night, so it could have been any of them. Or none of them.’
‘But, unless somebody tunnelled their way into the strong-room from outside, which didn’t happen, then whoever stole the Great Seal must have gone through the door that was being guarded by your men. There is no other possibility,’ said Cobb. ‘What about the men? I understand they’re being held here?’
‘Yes, we put them in the guardhouse while we sort this out,’ replied Major Izewater. ‘Also kept them separated so they can’t concoct a story between them.’
‘And you’ve searched their kit and their bed spaces?’
‘Didn’t find anything out of order.’
‘Tell me about the strong-room,’ asked Cobb.
Colonel Trap-Handler rifled through the papers on his desk and pulled out a blueprint. ‘This is the plan of the strong-room. As you can see, there is only one entrance, down these steps, along this corridor to the only door into the strong-room. There are no windows to the room and the connecting walls to the rest of the basement of the Palace are three feet thick.
‘The room is twenty feet by twenty, the ceiling is eight feet high and contains a cage made of iron bars. Pretty impregnable if you ask me.’
‘And the cage was intact?’
‘Absolutely. It’s all most confusing. Tell me Mr. Cobb, how do you think it was done?’
‘I try not to jump to conclusions Colonel until I have all the facts before me. Sir Arthur, as we are here shall we speak to the soldiers? I feel I’ve got an idea of the site of the robbery and don’t actually need to go there first, so we may as well begin the interviews.’
The Londum Omnibus Volume One (The Londum Series Book 4) Page 31
