Light Cavalry Action

by Max Hennessy

  ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

  ‘I was going to, sir, but it didn’t seem urgent. Them things have been turnin’ up for some time. Besides,’ Hardacre’s tones became appealing, ‘if I’d just bolted off with ’em, I might have got a bullet in me back. I did intend to tell, sir, though. Honest I did.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t do it sooner,’ Potter snapped. ‘A chap’s dead now.’

  Hardacre’s jaw worked, but he seemed at a loss for once for something to say.

  Higgins, going through the papers Busby had handed to him, selected one from the crumpled sheets and looked up.

  ‘What’s this, Hardacre?’ he said, holding out a scrap of yellow paper.

  Hardacre peered at it, frowning. ‘Oh, Christ!’ he said in a low grieving voice.

  ‘It’s a signal, Hardacre,’ Higgins snapped. ‘In plain language. From the Colonel to say what time he’s arriving. Why wasn’t it handed over?’

  Hardacre swallowed. ‘Sir, I collected it with the others but I’d had a few drinks in town. Pay night, sir. I must have missed that one when I ’anded ’em over to the officer on duty.’

  Higgins stared at the flimsy for a second. ‘Well, it’s too late now,’ he said. ‘He’ll have arrived.’ He swung round on Potter. ‘Willie, take the Stutz down to the station to look for him. He’ll never get through what’ll have started in town. You’ll probably find him in the Tsar Alexander I. Barry’ll know what’s happened to him. Apologise and explain what’s been going on. You might even do a bit of juggling with the time, so that it appears that this,’ he jerked a hand at the groups of sullen Russians, ‘that this is why we weren’t there to meet him. It might save Hardacre’s stupid neck.’

  ‘Right!’ Potter swung round and Kuprin heard the Stutz roar off in the direction of the town.

  ‘All right, Hardacre,’ Higgins turned back to the frightened Yorkshireman, ‘are there any more?’

  ‘No, sir. That’s the only one. Honest. I put it in me pocket with the others. It wasn’t deliberate. The party started and I just missed it. That’s all.’

  ‘It’s enough. I’m putting you on a charge. Any objections?’

  Hardacre shook his head, uncomplaining. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘There’ll be other charges. For the lot of you. Insulting behaviour. Drunkenness on duty. Conduct prejudicial to good order. I could make it worse but I’ll try not to.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘You needn’t thank me,’ Higgins snapped. ‘It’s only because I need you. You’ll report to the British officer on duty every two hours. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll not try to disappear. You’re safer here than in town.’

  Jones and Chapman stared sullenly but Hardacre nodded, grateful it wasn’t worse. ‘Yes, sir, I understand.’

  Higgins nodded and turned to MacAdoo. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and see now what’s happening at the infantry blocks.’

  2

  The search – 4

  While Moyalan was moving towards the climax of his story, Willie Potter and Meg Danielsson were beginning to draw slowly nearer to their quarry.

  They had set off from London in what to Danny had seemed the first minutes after dawn and she had been tempted to wonder, in view of the late hour at which they had arrived back the night before, if Colonel Finch were worth all the trouble they were taking. Potter, however, had seemed to think he was, and even seemed keen – and apparently indifferent to tiredness.

  The journey south was completed at a breakneck speed which left Danny dry-mouthed and wondering what on earth use she could be, but Potter had insisted that she might be needed and she had had to console herself as they roared into Brighton with the hope that he was right.

  Their search did not get off to a particularly encouraging start and for a long time Finch’s bookmaker was not at all willing to help. He was cagey and wanted to know Potter’s business before he was prepared to offer any information.

  ‘Colonel Finch was a good client of mine,’ he said when Potter told him where he had obtained his address. ‘He always paid up and I see no reason to drop him in the cart with her. What my clients do is no affair of mine, and if she gave him what he wanted that’s her affair. I’m not going to get him involved in a breach action.’

  Potter smiled. ‘Who said anything about a breach action?’ he asked.

  The bookmaker’s eyebrows shot up. ‘She did,’ he said. ‘She rang up and said you were on your way.’

  ‘Far as I know,’ Potter pointed out mildly, ‘he’s not involved in any breach action.’

  ‘She went on about a legacy and thinking she had a right to a bit of it.’

  Potter smiled again. ‘I didn’t tell her that,’ he explained. ‘Sprang entirely from her own mind.’

  ‘Oh!’ The red-faced man behind the desk shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘It seems I got you wrong. Only you have to look after your clients, you know, and Colonel Finch laid good money on with me – big money.’

  Potter raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t know he was that wealthy,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Well, he seemed to have it to spend – at least, in the last year or so he did.’

  ‘Pension, shouldn’t wonder,’ Potter commented thoughtfully.

  ‘I wish I’d got that sort of pension.’

  ‘Betting wins, would you say?’

  The bookmaker grinned. ‘He wasn’t that hot at it,’ he said. ‘Not many of ’em are. I reckon it was an allowance he got. Some rich aunt.’ He gestured in a man-to-man way. ‘Maybe some woman. He was a one for the ladies. They were always giving him presents.’

  Potter nodded thoughtfully and the bookmaker leaned forward. ‘What’s he wanted for?’ he asked.

  Potter gestured. ‘Nothing much. Witness in a libel action, that’s all.’

  ‘That Prideaux action?’

  ‘The very one.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned. He often said he was in that affair in Russia. I never believed him though. I thought he was just spinning a yarn. Whose side would he be on? Prideaux’s?’

  ‘Oh, certainly!’ Potter nodded, deciding he was becoming an expert at half-truths.

  The bookmaker shook his head. ‘What’s this chap, Higgins, up to?’ he demanded. ‘After a bloke like Prideaux? We’ll need Prideaux if that bloody swine in Germany sets about us.’ He fished among his files. ‘I’ve got the address here somewhere, but it’s only a hotel and he might have moved.’

  * * *

  He had, of course. But, at least, they were able to acquire yet another address, and they began then to pass along a succession of Finch’s acquaintances one after another, chiefly the proprietors of public houses he’d frequented, and the small hotels where he’d lived – anonymous bright little places in back streets, chiefly with girls in them who’d known him well; a man he’d sailed with; a woman he’d stayed with; an old army acquaintance, a whisky-soaked ex-soldier longing for the outbreak of a new war to put him back where he felt he belonged. Most of them were clearly far more concerned with the news from the Continent than they were with Potter, and it wasn’t an easy trail to follow, as the women all seemed to want to know Finch’s whereabouts as much as Potter did, and the men all seemed to feel it was their duty to hide him. Finch had covered his tracks well and Potter began to wonder what it was all about and what he was up to.

  ‘Do you think he was blackmailing somebody, Mr. Potter?’ Danny asked.

  Potter pulled a face. ‘Shouldn’t think so,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t consider it honest.’

  He laughed at her surprised look. ‘Honesty’s a matter of opinion,’ he pointed out. ‘Cheltenham Charlie’d lie to a woman but he wouldn’t lift her jewels. He’d pinch army petrol for his own use but he’d never flog it. No, it wasn’t that. It’d be something else.’

  They were growing tired of the car when they finally ran Finch to earth at Eastbourne at the end of the morning, on a tip passed on by a barman in a pub. It was another of the familiar bright little hotels they’
d grown used to, with the usual attractive woman behind the bar.

  Potter thanked the porter who informed him that Finch was out, and dropped half a crown into his hand, then he parked the car where he could watch the door and they sat back to wait.

  It was a warm morning and the interior of the car was stuffy, in spite of the breeze blowing along the front. They read the morning paper listlessly, dividing it between them.

  ‘Usual cheerful news from the Continent,’ Potter said, staring over the sheets at the hotel they were watching. ‘“poland stands firm. berlin insists on danzig. german army poised.” Makes our little affair at the Law Courts a bit trivial, doesn’t it? Makes waiting for friend Finch a bit like worrying if the door’s shut when the roof’s falling in.’

  Danny sighed. ‘I’m getting a little bored with Colonel Finch, Mr. Potter,’ she admitted. ‘He’s such a dreary character.’

  Potter laughed softly. ‘Thousands like him, Danny. Come in batches of a dozen.’

  ‘Even a man who’d strangled his grandmother would be more interesting.’

  She was just wondering if she dare offer the opinion that someone as slick as their quarry appeared to be wasn’t going to be much help anyway, when Potter dropped the paper and laid his hand on her arm.

  ‘There he is,’ he said quietly.

  She turned and stared at the figure approaching the hotel. ‘Is that him?’ she asked.

  ‘The man himself. Shining with a pure and gem-like flame.’

  ‘He doesn’t look very dangerous.’

  At first Potter hadn’t recognised Finch. His good looks had thickened and he was now a portly middle-aged man, upright, military and brisk still, but florid in the face and stiff in the joints. He wore a checked suit and had a monocle lying on his stomach. His hair was greying and too long above his ears, but his moustache was still neat and military, though his mouth and chin were as weak as ever and his eyes were puffy now, as though he’d been drinking too much for years. There seemed to be an air of seedy elegance about him, as though the struggle to keep up appearances had not always been an easy one. As he disappeared inside the hotel, Potter glanced at his watch. It was just after mid-day.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I think I know where we’ll find him.’

  Danny looked up unenthusiastically. ‘Are you sure you want me in on this?’

  Potter grinned. ‘Why not? Been a good and faithful hound. Entitled to a smell at the fox. Besides, this, I think, is the one time when I imagine you’ll come in useful.’

  Just inside the hotel was the usual American bar, with three or four customers who looked like businessmen talking over their gins. Finch was on his own on a stool at the far end, talking to the woman behind the counter – another replica of the forerunner of them all, the Countess Seinikina.

  Potter moved quietly alongside him and ordered drinks. Finch, in between talking to the woman behind the counter, was reading a newspaper and Potter saw that it was open at the account of the Prideaux libel case.

  After a while, as he and Danny talked quietly together, Finch looked up and, through the mirror behind the bar, Potter saw him frown. He swallowed his drink and turned, staring.

  For a moment, he appeared to hesitate, then Potter raised his eyes, smiled his most winning smile, and moved forward. ‘Finch,’ he said. ‘Major Finch.’

  Finch lowered the paper and looked down his nose. ‘Colonel Finch,’ he corrected.

  He stared up at Potter’s face for a second. ‘Been looking at you for a while,’ he admitted. ‘Your face seems familiar. You a newspaperman or something?’

  Potter smiled. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Lawyer now. In the city.’

  Finch’s eyes narrowed. ‘You chasing me?’ he demanded.

  Potter grinned. ‘Chasing you?’ he said. ‘No. Why should I? Just in the town on business. Will case. Probate. Came in for a drink. There you were. Fascinating.’

  Finch jammed his monocle into his eye and peered closer. ‘Look, old boy, suppose you tell me…’

  ‘Potter. Willie Potter. Russia, remember?’

  Finch’s jaw dropped then he grinned and, reaching out, began to pump Potter’s hand. Potter exulted secretly, feeling like a conspirator.

  ‘Well, my God, old boy,’ Finch was saying. ‘Willie Potter! All the way from Dankoi!’ He glanced pointedly at Danny standing just alongside, clearly admiring her. ‘Mrs. Potter, of course?’

  ‘Er – no.’ Potter managed to look vague and rather sheepish. ‘No. Not exactly. My – er – secretary.’

  ‘Oh!’ Finch gave them a knowing look of disbelief. ‘Ah, I see! Well, well, well! Just fancy!’ He jerked the newspaper. ‘Just been reading about Dankoi, as a matter of fact. Damnedest coincidence. Have a drink?’

  ‘Extremely civil of you, old boy.’

  ‘What’s your poison?’ Finch was all affability and friendliness. ‘Fancy meeting you,’ he said. ‘We ought to have a reunion. We shall soon, anyway – in uniform. I’m expecting to be called back at any time.’ He gulped at his gin. ‘I saw that MacAdoo had given evidence. And Busby. And that little Red squirt, Kuprin. They’re after Prideaux, y’know, old boy.’

  ‘Have you been at the Law Courts, Colonel Finch?’ Danny asked, giving Finch the benefit of her eyes.

  He responded at once, warmly. ‘Not me,’ he said. ‘Oh, no! Not me!’

  ‘But you were there, weren’t you?’ Her accent was markedly not quite top-drawer and Potter gaped at her admiringly. ‘I’ve heard about you from – er – from Mr. Potter.’

  ‘The devil you have!’ Finch smirked, obviously pleased. ‘Oh, yes, I was there.’ He ordered more drinks and Potter guessed he’d probably been at it all morning on and off and was in a ripe state for talking.

  ‘I suppose I ought to be up there,’ he went on loudly. ‘Moral support, if nothing else.’ He jabbed Potter in the chest. ‘Old Prideaux was at Dankoi, y’know,’ he said. ‘And he did give the order for that charge to take place. And he led it, too. I know it. Dammit, you know it. You were there.’

  ‘Yes,’ Potter said dreamily. ‘I was there.’

  Finch turned again to Danny. ‘It isn’t everybody who gets a chance to be involved in a little bit of history in their lifetime, is it?’ he said loudly, and she beamed encouragingly. ‘I retired soon after that. Chucked up the army. They’re wanting me back now.’

  ‘Really?’ Potter couldn’t resist egging him on to put his foot in it.

  Finch didn’t fail him. ‘Experienced man, y’know. Ex-regular. You’ll not be asked if it comes again. Civilian. Too old.’

  ‘Might,’ Potter said placidly, thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Commanding an armoured car outfit. Terriers. Colonel now.’

  Finch looked startled, then angry, and he took a quick swallow of gin and changed the subject quickly. ‘Prideaux’ll win,’ he said huffily. ‘He was there.’

  ‘Gather they don’t dispute that,’ Potter said mildly. ‘Think they’re complaining chiefly about what happened before and what happened afterwards.’

  Finch looked shifty. ‘They’ll not get far on that score,’ he said. ‘There aren’t any witnesses.’

  ‘Hardacre’s there.’

  ‘That Red swine!’ Finch scowled. ‘He won’t help much.’

  ‘Understand they’ve also got Prideaux’s old batman, Freeman.’

  ‘How’d you know?’

  ‘Legal talk. That sort of rot. Gets around.’

  ‘Hm.’ Finch seemed to have recovered his equanimity a little. ‘Well, Freeman’ll not help ’em much.’ He turned to Danny, as though he felt on safer ground with her than with the unpredictable Potter. ‘They need someone who was on the inside, if y’know what I mean. They need more than Freeman.’

  Potter put on his blankest expression. ‘But there isn’t anybody else,’ he said.

  Finch smiled secretively. ‘Oh, yes, there is, old boy.’

  ‘Only you.’

  ‘Exactly! Me. I could tell them a thing or two about what went on
afterwards.’

  ‘You could?’ Danny leaned forward, gazing into his eyes, and Finch gestured again, more expansively than ever, and pushed his glass forward for a refill.

  ‘What did go on afterwards?’ Danny pursued eagerly.

  Finch winked. ‘Not telling, m’dear. Best not to. Sleeping dogs and all that. Besides, I don’t want my name in the papers.’

  Potter had let his long frame stoop, and his eyes had a deceptive washed-out look, so that he seemed a little stupid.

  ‘Bit o’ fluff, I suppose,’ he said.

  Finch laughed loudly, putting on an act. Potter had seen it often before, though it surprised him that it hadn’t disappeared with Finch’s middle age.

  ‘You hit the nail right on the head there, old boy,’ Finch was saying eagerly – too eagerly. ‘Bit o’ fluff, all right. And what a bit o’ fluff!’ He glanced at Danny. ‘Forgive me, m’dear, but we have to be realistic about these things. Me lady wife.’

  Danny’s eyes widened. ‘Your wife? Oh, dear!’

  ‘Yes – oh, dear! Things went a bit haywire for me after the war. Had rather a sticky patch.’ Finch shrugged and suddenly looked old and lost and more than a little bewildered. But Danny was clucking sympathetically and Finch went on to explain. ‘I was young in those days,’ he said. ‘And we do silly things when we’re young, don’t we? It was just after the war. I’d been through it, y’know, and needed a little warmth and comfort.’ He sighed heavily. ‘It went wrong, though, and now she wants a divorce.’

  ‘Shouldn’t stop you giving evidence,’ Potter pointed out slowly. ‘Could always arrange with your lawyer that your name wasn’t given. Judge’d agree.’

  Finch winked. ‘Bit more to it than that,’ he said. ‘Promised, y’know.’

  ‘Promised what?’

  Finch gestured airily, slightly unsteady on his feet, his eyes a little moist, his suit a little shabby. He seemed suddenly to realise that he’d said too much and he put his glass down uncertainly. Danny was staring at him fascinatedly.