‘At last! Something positive,’ Russell exclaimed. ‘We’ll get some uniforms knocking on doors around Newhaven station first thing in the morning. See if we can flush them out.’
-0-
Morning came, and with it more news. The bad news was that Simon H had not turned up for work and no one knew where he was. The good news was that Parker’s car had been found abandoned close to Lewes station, which tied in with the observant policeman’s report. Russell agreed to drive Parker and Barrow there to collect the car. After they had dropped the two detectives off, he and Beaumont went over to Newhaven to see how the house-to-house was progressing. So far, the PCs knocking on doors had failed to turn anything up. Then one constable thought he had struck lucky when a small German man answered the door of a terraced cottage. Excitedly, he called Russell over but when he saw that the man was well into his seventies and nothing like Wolfgang he shook his head. ‘Afraid not,’ he said and they moved on to the next house.
When the German had closed the door he almost ran down the passageway to the telephone. ‘Paddy?’ he said, ‘they are on to you. The police have been asking questions. I suggest you get out – and get out fast. You had better tell your friend, too.’
Standing in his office Dickens slammed down the phone and cursed. ‘Bloody hell! And I thought we were in the clear.’ Pulling open drawers he stuffed a handful of papers into a bag, went into his living quarters and grabbed some clothes. Looking round, possibly for the last time he thought, he sighed then made his way quickly to Moonshine. At first, Wolfgang was pleased to see him. Somehow they had become, if not friends, then tolerable acquaintances. But when he heard what Dickens had to tell him, the smile disappeared. ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked miserably.
‘Only one thing for it, shipmate. We’ll have to set sail.’
‘But the boat is not ready,’ Wolfgang protested. ‘I don’t know if the battery is okay; I haven’t topped up the fuel; the engine probably needs a service…’
‘No time for that, my friend. We’ve got to leave and leave now. Come on, get the engine started.’ He took a knife out of his pocket. ‘I’ll deal with the mooring ropes.’
The engine started easily and, although the tide was nowhere near full, there was sufficient water under the keel to enable Wolfgang to reverse the boat out of the berth, turn her in the creek, and then they were on their way.
-0-
It was fortunate that they had taken a spare key with them but it still took a while to extricate the police car from the undergrowth. Parker insisted on driving while Barrow had the unenviable task of putting his shoulder to the bonnet and pushing. Eventually, after much swearing from Parker, the car was free from the bushes, the wheels could grip solid Tarmac and they could set off for Framfield. When they arrived, a couple of uniforms were waiting for instructions. ‘Right, lads,’ the DI said, ‘you start knocking on doors here in the village and we’ll go and do the same at the outlying farms and houses.’
‘What is it we need to know, Sir?’ one asked.
‘Just ask if they’ve seen any suspicious characters hanging around – maybe using the phone box. Or indeed, if they’ve seen anyone they don’t recognise. Pretty straightforward, even for you chaps, eh?’ Parker smirked. A look passed between the two constables but he didn’t notice. ‘Right then. We’ll see you back here later. Perhaps you’ll actually turn something up?’ With that he levered himself into the passenger seat of the car and Barrow drove off.
‘Bloody cheek!’ one PC said to the other. ‘Just because we let that sodding foreigner go.’
-0-
Over in Newhaven the policeman carried on making enquiries of householders and business owners located around the railway station. It was a chilly, damp day and it seemed like a thankless task until, just after lunchtime, they struck lucky across the river in Bridge Street. Russell happened to go into the New Bridge Inn and asked if either of the two men they were seeking was known and found the landlord more than helpful. ‘You must be talking about Paddy Dickens.’
‘You know him then?’
The landlord roared with laughter. ‘Know him? He helps keep me in business!’
Russell beamed. ‘I don’t suppose you know where he lives, do you?’
‘I do. He’s got a boatyard on the creek at the back of Denton Island. If you can call it a boatyard – it’s more of a junkyard.’
‘What about the other man. Have you seen him?’
The landlord thought for a moment. ‘Now you come to mention it, he did bring someone in recently – another little bloke.’
Russell didn’t want to lead him so he asked, simply, ‘Do you remember anything particular about him?’
‘What, you mean apart from the wide-brimmed hat and thumb stick?’ His eyes twinkled.
‘Go on.’
‘He had a gammy leg – walked with a limp.’
‘And you say they came in together?’
‘Just the once – seemed as thick as thieves – heads together, plotting. They were sitting just there.’ He pointed to a corner table.
‘When was this?’
‘Let me think… Oh yes, I remember. Day before yesterday.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes, they must have spent a couple of hours in here then snuck off without me noticing. Ain’t seen either of them since.’
‘Thanks, you’ve been a great help.’ Russell gathered together the uniforms and told them what he had just heard. They set off for the creek. It wasn’t long before they found what they were looking for.
A small, tar-washed single-storey building stood at the entrance to a yard containing a jumble of rotting hulks, leaning sheds and haphazard piles of timber, chain and rope. A crudely painted sign declaring OFFICE was nailed to the door. Russell tried the handle. It was unlocked. He pushed the door open. The interior was a continuation of the chaos outside, but open drawers and scattered papers suggested that someone had left in a hurry. ‘Spread out and see if you can find anyone in the yard,’ he ordered the policemen. ‘I’ll have a look round in here.’ He went through a door at the back of the office into what was apparently living accommodation. The chaos continued but he felt certain that the occupant had not long left.
There was a shout from out in the yard. Russell made his way to where the sound had come from. One of the PCs was standing by a wooden jetty that looked as if a strong wind would blow it over. He held out a much-darned woollen sock. ‘And look, Sir,’ he said. A mooring rope was belayed round a timber upright, one end neatly whipped, the other, roughly cut. Russell bent and examined the knot. It was expertly tied, almost like a signature. He guessed at once who it belonged to - Wolfgang!
-0-
Meanwhile, the policemen going door-to-door in Framfield were having less luck. One householder thought she had seen a masked man with a gun riding a bicycle down the high street but her neighbour pooh-poohed it saying she was a bit simple in the head and read too many detective stories. Another man thought he had seen a stranger going into the phone-box but, when questioned further, couldn’t remember exactly when it was but thought it might have been some time the previous year. Dispirited, the policemen decided to interview the landlord of the Hare and Hounds. Although he could offer no help he did pull them a couple of pints, which cheered them up considerably.
Parker and Barrow were faring no better. They had headed east out of the village, where the houses were grander and further apart. Most times, Barrow was sent to make enquiries while his boss sat in the car, dozing - it had been an early start. They drove up to a couple of farms and Barrow had to get out into sticky mud and other substances, Parker complaining about the smell when he returned. They were driving along Etchingwood Lane when Barrow stopped the car suddenly and reversed back up the road. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Parker asked angrily.
Barrow brought the car to a standstill at the side of a rickety farm gate, with a sad-looking farmhouse at the end of a long drive. ‘Nearly missed thi
s one, Sir.’
‘Bloody should have done. Doesn’t look like there’s anyone home, or has been for some time. I suppose I’d better go and have a look.’ Grumbling, he heaved himself out of the car, walked over to the gate and stared at the forlorn building. He rattled the padlock. ‘Locked,’ he said, dropping it. ‘Bloody waste of time if you ask me. They’ll be miles away by now.’ He slumped back into the car. ‘Drive on. And no more emergency stops, okay?’
-0-
It was mid-morning and Helen was sitting at the table, drinking a mug of tea. Atkins was the first of the gang to come down. Considering the amount of alcohol that had been consumed the previous evening, he didn’t look too bad. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about what you were sayin’ last night,’ he said.
She looked up. ‘Oh, really?’
‘Yeah. Are you serious about goin’ off and leavin’ us?’
‘You’ll get along just fine without me,’ she said, smiling warmly.
‘But I thought we was a team.’ Maybe it was the hangover but his sad eyes made him look miserable.
‘Tommy,’ she said, ‘you’ll be fine. You’ve learned well; the others respect and look up to you. Besides, with all that money,’ she glanced across to the pile of sacks, ‘you don’t need to do anything for some time.’
‘I s’pose not.’ He still looked like a scolded puppy.
‘Come on, have a cuppa. That’ll perk you up.’
The others came down, one by one, much the worse for wear. Sammy looked like death warmed up and asked, in a hushed voice, if Helen had any aspirins. For once, his eyes were not darting all over the place, they just remained blurrily unfocused. Bates went to the sink and drank several mugs of water from the tap, one after another; Baker poured himself some tea and sat down quietly nursing the mug. Time passed with little being said until they heard a car go past, stop with a screech of brakes, a little way up the road, then reverse back to the gate.
‘What the hell is that?’ Baker said, stiffening.
Helen gingerly lifted the corner of the sacking covering the window and risked a sneaky look out. Holding her breath she watched as a stocky man, wearing a crumpled suit and a trilby, got out of the car, walked up to the gate, lifted the padlock and shook it. He stared at the farmhouse. Helen remained stock still. After a moment the man dropped the padlock and walked back to the car, said something to the driver then got in and they drove off. She started breathing again. ‘Looks like we’re in the clear lads. I’m pretty sure that was the law. I don’t think they’ll be bothering us.’
‘Does that mean we can go now?’ Sammy asked, his eyes back to performing their usual gyrations.
‘Of course not!’ Helen said, crossly. ‘We still wait until it’s dark.’
Baker spoke: ‘When we do go, are you coming in the van with us?’
Enunciating carefully, as if speaking to a slow child, she said: ‘I told you, this is where we part company.’ Seeing his face, she added: Don’t look so downcast, I’m sure you’ll have more adventures with your pals. You just don’t need me anymore.’
‘How are you planning on leaving here?’ Bates asked, his fleshy face creased with concern.
Her laugh was musical. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’ve arranged my own transport.’ No one thought to enquire who was picking her up and how they came to know about the hide-out.
‘Ain’t you forgetting something?’ Atkins enquired.
‘What’s that, Tommy?’
‘Our friend down there.’ He pointed at the cellar door.
‘Ah. I think that’s been sorted out for us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I looked in on him last night and it seems as if he’s had a fall.’
‘Is he dead?’ Sammy asked quickly.
‘Don’t be daft. Of course he isn’t. He’s had a bump on the head and…’ the laugh was more deep throated this time, ‘…he’s lost his memory.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I saw him last night and he had no idea who I was or where he is. I checked on him this morning and he was fast asleep. But just to be on the safe side, I’ll look in on him again later.’
‘We don’t need to do anythin’ drastic then?’ Atkins asked.
‘No, I don’t think so. We’ll leave him here when we go.’
‘Yes, but you said you didn’t think the law would be troubling us,’ Baker said.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘So if no one comes looking, he might die.’
‘I’ve thought of that. Once I’m away from here, I’ll make an anonymous phone call – let the police know where he is.’
-0-
Wolfgang had opened the throttle wide on Moonshine until she was creaming along with a bone in her teeth doing nearly 15 knots. When they were a mile or so off the coast, Dickens said: ‘Don’t you think you should ease off now?’
‘I’ve got to keep her going flat out,’ Wolfgang said. ‘We need to get as far away from here as possible.’ He was quite agitated.
Dickens pulled the throttle back. ‘No, there’s no need. We’re far enough off shore, we don’t know where we’re going and we don’t want to run out of fuel,’ he said, taking control of the situation.
Wolfgang relaxed a little. ‘Very good. You are probably right. Where do you think we ought to go?’
‘While we were making our getaway I’ve been giving that some thought. I wonder if we should go to the place where we’re least expected.’
‘Where’s that?’ Wolfgang asked.
‘Compass Point.’
‘You have to be joking!’
‘No, shipmate, I’m deadly serious.’
‘But they’re bound to look for us there!’
Now that the speed had been reduced Moonshine rode the waves easily; she really was a good sea boat. ‘I don’t think so. They’re not to know that we haven’t much fuel so they’ll probably think we’d go back across the Channel - to where you were before, or somewhere near. Didn’t you say that policeman, Russell, has a comrade in Boulogne?
‘Yes, Bruissement.’
‘He’ll tell him to keep a look-out on the coast along the Cote d’Opale.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
Dickens gave a laugh. ‘I’m starting to work out how his mind works. The last thing he’ll consider is that we’ll be taking Moonshine back to her home port. Especially as she is not Moonshine anymore.’ The laugh turned into a deep-throated chuckle. ‘And didn’t you tell me that you know some old ferryman there, the one who found the boat for you?’
‘Jack Spratt.’
‘That’s him. You said he could be easily persuaded, with a bribe or two.’
‘He could. But I am not so sure now.’ Wolfgang remembered back to their last encounter, the previous year, when Spratt had told him where his brother was being held, immediately after his arrest. He was remembering too, how the ferryman had asked for more money and Wolfgang had refused, threatening him with a gun. ‘No, I am not so sure,’ he repeated quietly.
‘I don’t think we’ve got any alternative. Wherever we go, the police will be on the look-out for us. This could be the best, worst option, if you see what I mean.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘We could wait until dark to go in…’
‘I will check the tides and see if that is possible. There is a sand bar across the mouth of the estuary and there is only enough water for a certain time either side of high tide.’
‘Right. We motor along steadily, that will conserve fuel. If we’re there too early, we’ll just sit it out, well off-shore, until it’s time to go in. How does that sound?’
‘All right, I suppose.’
‘Right then. Let me take a trick at the helm while you brew us some coffee.’
-0-
‘I knew this would be a waste of time.’ Parker slumped in his seat. He had got out of the car only a handful of times, leaving his DC, Barrow, to do the lion’s share of the legwork: visiting outlyi
ng farms and properties and asking the same questions, over and over again. The uniforms in Framfield had experienced the same lack of success, but at least they had enjoyed a pint and a pork pie in the Hare and Hounds, courtesy of the landlord. The two detectives drove back to the village and met with them, outside the village store.
‘Get us a packet of fags, will you?’ he said to Barrow. ‘I need to have a chat with these lads and see what they’ve come up with.’ By the time his DC came back with the Capstan Full Strength, Parker had learned that the PCs had gleaned nothing either and he decided to call it a day and agreed to take them to their police station, en route back to Collinghurst. When they arrived they all went in to the station; Parker needed a pee. Just as they were about to leave, the desk sergeant called out: ‘Why don’t you stop for a bit. One of the lads is going for fish and chips. You’re welcome to join us. Might be a beer or two as well,’ he said, giving them a wink.
Barrow looked at the DI. ‘What do you think, Sir?’
Parker shrugged. ‘There’s no rush to get back. I suppose we could.’ Then, to the sergeant: ‘How much do you want? Presume there’s a kitty.’
‘Couple a bob each should do it.’
Parker fished two half-crowns out of his pocket. ‘Here you are. Keep the change.’ Looking at the sergeant, Barrow raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t used to this level of generosity from his boss.
‘Thanks, Inspector. Come and have a brew while you wait.’
-0-
Motoring steadily along, Wolfgang and Dickens watched the coast slide by; Beachy Head lighthouse appeared to port, then the Royal Sovereign light ship, just visible to starboard. It was off Hastings that the trouble began. Although they had kept the engine ticking over at the lowest revs to maintain steerage, there was even less fuel than Wolfgang had feared. First the Gardiner diesel started missing a beat every so often. He pushed the throttle forward, increasing the revs, but the intermittent misfires became more frequent, then, with a cough and a splutter, the engine stopped. Wolfgang tried to get it going again but the starter motor just whirred and the engine turned over without firing.
Blood on the Shrine Page 22