by Clive Mullis
The eyes finished and stood back with a brief nod of the head.
‘Looks like you’ve passed, Mr Cornwallis,’ acknowledged Sparrow. ‘Now you may come with me.’
Cornwallis regained his posture and adjusted his clothes, casting a contemptuous glance at his frisker, who returned an even more contemptuous glance; this with the added promise that next time he would get the gloves out.
‘Come on, Mr Cornwallis, we can’t keep Mr Hawk waiting, now can we?’ Sparrow held open the door and Cornwallis stepped through, still adjusting his trousers, into the corridor beyond. ‘This way,’ instructed Sparrow, stepping in front and heading away.
Cornwallis followed more slowly while suppressing the urge to grab Sparrow around the throat and wring his supercilious neck. Perhaps another time, he conceded in the end, and shook his shoulders to get rid of the feeling before it came back stronger; he would be better off taking note of where he was and what he saw for possible future reference.
It wasn’t so much what he saw, that sent a shiver through him, but what he heard. They walked down a dimly lit corridor, but the noises behind some of the doors left little to the imagination. He heard thwacks and whimpering sounds and jangling noises, and then occasionally, a high pitched scream would rent the air. He began to feel his hackles rise as he went further into the place, while Sparrow up ahead, ignored everything. Eventually he had had enough and lurched for one of the doors and flung it wide open; staring at what he saw in disbelief.
In a corner of the room, he saw a man strapped to a chair. In front of him were five other men, all standing with batons in their hands, panting from exertion. The man in the chair was crying, with a look of sheer terror on his face.
‘And again,’ instructed one of the men. The group of five then began to dance, and Cornwallis recognised it as the “Fair Maiden’s Dream”.
Sparrow appeared at his side. ‘Been going on now for three days, this one; you have to admire the man. Can you imagine having to watch and listen to that for three solid days? No respite, no nothing, just full on Morris dancing for three days! He will break eventually, they all do in the end, just turns the brain to mush, you see.’
Cornwallis shook his head in sympathy, he could stand five minutes of it, but any more and he would be climbing up the wall. Three days? It didn’t bear thinking of. ‘What’s he done?’ he asked, not sure whether he wanted to know the answer or not.
‘He’s a sleeper, we believe, an agent of one of the Eastern states. Not sure which as he hasn’t told us yet, but he will. Found him handing out leaflets supporting an autonomous state with free speech and equal rights for all, I mean free speech and equal rights — in a democracy? Absurd!’
‘Isn’t it,’ replied Cornwallis sadly. He hoped the man would hold out, but he doubted it somehow. The state always won in the end.
Sparrow shut the door and dragged Cornwallis away; they went up several flights of stairs and along a couple of corridors until they reached the Bagman’s outer office where Miss Wren received them with a cup of coffee and a biscuit already waiting. She smiled demurely at Cornwallis and more provocatively at Sparrow as she handed the coffee out.
‘Mr Hawk said he won’t keep you long, Mr Cornwallis, just take a seat for a moment.’
He heard a coffee cup rattle in its saucer as Miss Wren brushed past Sparrow to get to her desk, leading him to think that perhaps now Sparrow received a frisking, but his was of an altogether different experience. Cornwallis felt a pang of jealousy for a split second, but then remembered that he had Miss Thrape to look forward to later on in the evening. He had a brief vision of what they might get up to tonight, but then disconcertingly, the form of Miss Thrape faded away to be replaced with the form of Rose. Cornwallis sighed, and then crossed his legs.
The bell behind Miss Wren’s desk sounded and then a click as the door unlocked. Without being prompted, Cornwallis stood up and headed for the door, leaving his half-drunk coffee on the table.
Cornwallis marched down the centre of the office with a sense of determination, disregarding all the paintings and ornaments that lined the wall he came to stand in front of the Bagman’s desk and drew a chair forward. He plonked the chair down in front of the desk and sat down. Mr Hawk watched his progress without a word, he just leant back in his chair and steepled his fingers while thoughtfully tapping his lips. The two regarded each other for a few moments in a heavy silence.
Eventually, the Bagman broke the tension. ‘Mr Cornwallis. How delightful to see you, and so unexpected too.’
‘I doubt that,’ growled Cornwallis. ‘On both counts.’
Mr Hawk smiled, ‘Maybe you’re right and then again, maybe you’re wrong. I did say we would keep in touch though, so tell me, how is the investigation going?’
Cornwallis had a moment of confusion, he didn’t come here at Mr Hawk’s invitation; he came here because he had had enough and wanted to know the truth of what had been going on. If at all possible, he would have kept as far away from the Bagman as he could, it was only after that mornings attempt on their lives that he had decided that he’d had enough and it had become far too tedious to keep looking over his shoulder all of the time. He and Frankie were used to taking risks, but Rose very nearly became a victim too, and that made him think a little differently. He decided to ignore the Bagman’s question.
‘What have you learnt from Maxwell’s associates? You took them into your custody, so you must have learnt something; and what about Roland Goup, I assume you managed to stop the ship and drag him off?’
‘Well, it was a shame about Maxwell, I would so like to have talked to him, but you certainly put a stop to that. You also neglected to mention that he was involved in the killing of my Miss Knutt. As to his associates? Well, in truth, they were just thugs, paid to do a job, but fortunately for you, didn’t manage to do it. They’re still down below, helping us with a few other things, they have been busy boys you know. Quite a few crimes are being cleared up.’
‘What about the drugs, did you send someone down?’
‘Oh yes, and you were right, too right in fact. There wasn’t millions of dollars’ worth there, but hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth, and that in trade prices; street value would be far far higher. Snodgrass is with my people now. You are a naughty boy, you didn’t tell me about him either, did you?’
‘You didn’t ask.’ In actual fact, Cornwallis assumed that he probably already knew. ‘And Roland Goup?’ he asked, to change the subject.
‘Ah, Mr Goup.’
Cornwallis noticed the question had not gone down well; he hesitated a little, a degree of tension, a flicker of frustration. ‘Well?’ he encouraged.
Mr Hawk coughed. ‘In truth, Mr Cornwallis, we don’t know.’
Cornwallis screwed up his brows in confusion.
‘It, er . . . it seems that Mr Goup has disappeared. We found the ship, but unfortunately, he wasn’t on board. According to the Captain, Kintersbury and Maxwell did take someone on, but he left soon after, at least before the ship sailed. We have the ship somewhere and we’re taking it apart, and the crew are being, er, spoken to. Someone must know something.’
‘But I saw Goup go on and then your trained puppy interrupted me. If anyone’s to blame then it’s you and Sparrow. Job half-done, I think. Call yourselves professionals?’
Mr Hawk squirmed in his chair. ‘There’s no need for that, Mr Cornwallis. I admit now that we could, and should, have left it a little longer, but Mr Sparrow saw the man, he now knows as Goup, board the ship, so he deduced that he sailed in her.’
‘Wrong call.’
‘With hindsight, yes. But I trust my agents, Mr Cornwallis, and if I didn’t then you would by now be very dead. How many attempts is it now?’
Cornwallis sniffed. ‘On my life you mean? Then it’s three or four if you count intent, all of them have failed.’
Mr Hawk grinned. ‘Actually, it’s five. Crossbow bolt in the back. You missed that one, and thankfully for you,
so did he; but Mr Magpie didn’t miss. So you see Mr Cornwallis, neither of us are perfect. I suggest you put your antagonism towards me away for now, I’m sure you can make up for it another time.’
‘What? When?’ stammered Cornwallis.
The Bagman smiled. ‘When you were on your way to the dwarf tunnels,’ he held up his hand and indicated with his thumb and finger. ‘You were that close away.’
Cornwallis cast his mind back and immediately remembered the click, the whoosh, and the thump. His spine tingled and he felt the goosebumps pop out all over. ‘Oh,’ he said lamely.
Mr Hawk sat back in his chair with a look of triumph on his face, he’d returned the ping-pong ball of antipathy quite well, he thought; he would now try a back spin curve shot. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Cornwallis; I’m sure there will be more.’
Cornwallis sighed and then slumped back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Tell me again why I’m doing your dirty work.’
Mr Hawk picked up a pencil and twiddled it around his fingers. ‘Because, Mr Cornwallis, this department is part of the government, and the police are part of the government. You, although a member of this government, are not answerable to it. If a government department investigated the events that you are currently investigating, then it could be said that the government had a vested interest in the outcome, seeing as a member of the government is central to it all. If all the rumours, which are currently circulating around the Assembly as of today, are to be believed, then that would not be a situation that the government would appreciate. Let us consider what you already know. Kintersbury, allegedly, is using his ship to bring in vast amounts of drugs, far far more than this city needs. So it is likely that it is also destined for other parts of the country; however, at the moment, we can’t prove that. He also heads up Gornstock Trust and Holdings, which this morning, as you know, has declared itself bankrupt. Dumchuck is head of the Gornstock bank, which has just received a large sum of money from the government; and all this started when his tax return was, er, returned. Now, the lately deceased Maxwell, who worked for Kintersbury, got it back from Goup, via the little sneak-thief, who, in the process, murdered my Miss Knutt. As Dumchuck and Kintersbury are obviously working together, what do you suppose is going to happen?’
Cornwallis thought for a moment and then slapped his head. ‘Dumchuck will bail Kintersbury’s business out.’
‘Exactly. The big problem now is that because Gornstock Trust and Holdings has declared itself bankrupt, the stock exchange has gone, er, mental. Prices have dropped, no, that would be an understatement, they have not only dropped but have gone through the floor and are presently burrowing to the other side of the twearth. The Warden has summoned Dumchuck to a crisis meeting, which I believe is going to be held tonight in order to sort out the situation, Dooley and Kintersbury have been told to attend as well. From what I hear they will be there all night long.’
‘So the bank is going to have to prop up the stock market as well as Kintersbury?’
‘Only Kintersbury. If Gornstock Trust and Holdings is re-floated then that should stave off the crisis. The word is that there is an enormous sum of money tied up in Kintersbury’s company, which is why the Warden has summoned Kintersbury as well.’
‘So where has all the money gone?’ he asked, now knowing the answer.
The Bagman smiled. ‘That, Mr Cornwallis, is the question.’
Cornwallis took a few moments for thought. ‘If I pull Kintersbury in now for questioning then I assume that there will be no chance of saving the company, and in consequence, preventing the stock market collapse, which I presume will then plunge the city into a financial crisis. So I’m hamstrung until this is sorted.’
‘In effect yes, you need to hold back at least until this meeting has been held tonight.’
‘Hmmm,’ mused Cornwallis. He moved his thoughts to more concrete evidence. ‘I’m keeping an eye on the drugs to see what will happen now that Maxwell is dead. I know Maxwell went regularly to pick the drugs up, but I only saw Kintersbury in the vicinity, he wasn’t actually standing in front of it all. I presume you have found traces of it on his ship?’
‘There hasn’t been as yet, and the Captain is pleading ignorance.’
‘So there is no proof of anything yet, other than supposition and the fact that I saw Kintersbury in the vicinity of the drugs?’
‘No.’
And the fact that you knew it all but decided not to tell me, thought Cornwallis scornfully.
*
Frankie and Rose were discussing things as they searched for Algernon. They eventually came up with a strategy that might have the desired effect of putting a rather large boot in the way of Cornwallis’ encounter with Miss Thrape. Frankie felt sure that in the fullness of time, Cornwallis would actually thank him for it, but in the short term, the reaction might well be quite different.
They finally found Algernon propping up a doorpost close to the Gornstock Bank. In fact, Algernon found them as they walked around, as he had disguised himself in the rags of a down-and-out and scuttled about handing out pamphlets of advertisements. Frankie had waved him away to start with, but recognition finally dawned as the persistent beggar latched on to his coat-tail and wouldn’t leave him alone.
The Gornstock Bank dwarfed all other buildings around it. It screamed money, with rich decorations and marble pillars, loads of them, all standing guard around the front of the sandstone building, propping up a large overhanging portico. The square it sat in had been designed around the bank and a series of steps led right up to the front door, lending the building gravitas. Around the square, the populace walked and sat and talked in the comforting knowledge that the bank, the financial backbone of the city, would be, and always had been, there. Its presence indicated that all was well with the world. People trusted the bank; after all, it printed all the money.
‘Took yer bloody time,’ said Algernon by way of a greeting. ‘Been here all sodding morning, waiting for one of you to come along.’
‘We’re here now, Algie, is there a problem?’ asked Frankie, grinning at his apparel.
‘Not so much a problem. I sent one of the boys around to your place earlier, but a woman just said that you were all out.’
‘That would be Mrs Gridlington,’ answered Rose, nodding. ‘The new office worker. What did she say?’
‘Just that you were out and that she didn’t know when you would be back. Suggested he left a message and that you would contact him when you were available. Apparently the way she spoke didn’t leave room for a response, very formal.’
‘Progress. Jack is moving the business along. Anyway, why did you send the lad around?’ asked Frankie.
Algernon grinned triumphantly. ‘Because of your Mr Dumchuck. He took a trip out last night, he did, and so did your Mr Kintersbury.’
‘Did they now, and where did they go?’ Frankie felt his interest stir.
‘All in good time. You are going to feel sorry for an old homeless person now and will buy him lunch. I think a good three courses in that pub just over there; and a couple of pints.’
‘It’d better be worth it.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find it will be.’ He indicated to another man that he was taking a break and then strolled over to the Sack of Plenty, named after the bags of coins that were historically delivered to the bank in its early days, but because of the way the sign had been painted, was known locally as the Dog’s Bollocks. He sat down at one of the little outside tables.
Algernon perused the menu for a few moments and then beckoned a waiter over. ‘My friends are paying,’ he said straight away to the worried looking man. ‘I’ll have a prawn surprise to start with, followed by pork cutlets braised in cream with season vegetables and a treacle sponge for pudding; oh, yes and I’ll have two pints of best. You two having anything?’
Frankie began to shake his head, when it occurred to him that his throat felt a tad dry, and his stomach just gave a little rumble, plus he’d noticed that the wa
iter had noticed Rose. ‘I’ll have a pint too, as well as a meatball and cheese footlong, with chilli relish, please.’
‘And you, Miss?’ asked the waiter, pencil poised as he looked lecherously down Rose’s cleavage.
‘She’ll have the same,’ answered Frankie, before she had a chance to open her mouth. ‘She’s never satisfied with anything less than twelve inches, ain’t that right, Rose?’
It took a micro-second before the comment hit the waiter’s brain and then he sort of said “Gneughh” as he coughed and spluttered. He then pressed too hard with his pencil and the end snapped off.
‘Oh dear,’ said Frankie. ‘Looks like you’ve shot yer end off; such a nice little pencil too.’
He hurried away quicker than a rat up a drainpipe.
‘Frankie,’ admonished Rose. ‘There wasn’t any call for that.’
Frankie grinned. ‘You didn’t see what I saw; you were the subject of extreme scrutinisation.’
‘Sometimes, Frankie, a girl likes to be scrutinised.’ She actually enjoyed the attention, the waiter being young and quite good looking. ‘Anyway, since when have you been my guardian angel?’
‘Since the day you joined us, Rose.’
Algernon looked at each in turn. ‘Gods, are you pair like this all the time?’
Rose rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not, he is,’ she said pointedly.
‘Just looking after you, Rose,’ responded Frankie. ‘That’s what colleagues do.’
‘Well, if you hadn’t noticed, this colleague can look after herself.’
Algernon thought of saying that he would be quite happy to look after her too, but thought better of it as Cornwallis was bound to hear with Frankie sitting next to him, and he didn’t want to put his release from the hairdressers at risk. ‘Don’t you want to hear what your friends have been up to?’ he asked instead.
‘Oooh, yes please,’ replied Frankie, rubbing his hands together.
Algernon leant forward with his elbows on the table. ‘Well, as you know, the night before last they just went home and bolted the door, neither of them got up to anything. Mrs Dumchuck went out for a while to help out with the soup run, but she came back a couple of hours later. One of Kintersbury’s servants went out too, but he didn’t take long neither, however, where he went might be of interest now, after last night.’
