A Fairly Dangerous Thing

by Reginald Hill

  Despite himself, Joe found he was going into his loyal serf routine.

  ‘Just checking, sir,’ he said, grinning vacantly. ‘Won’t keep you no longer. Just checking on the worm.’

  He rapped the bedside-table unconvincingly, thought stuff it! touched his forelock, and made for the door.

  ‘I know you!’ said Julian. ‘It’s you! Isn’t it?’

  ‘Good show, old thing!’ laughed Joe. ‘Might have known you’d see through me. Well, mustn’t keep you from your fun. ’Bye!’

  He turned to the door and was surprised to find his face pushed hard against it and his left arm forced painfully up his back. The Hon. Julian was not as weedy as he looked. In fact, thought Joe, to be quite fair, unclothed he was quite a well set-up young man.

  ‘Shall I ring the police, Jule?’ asked the girl, affecting total boredom after her initial fright.

  ‘No!’ spluttered Joe into the panelling.

  ‘You’re that prick in the pub, aren’t you? The one with the tart. What the hell are you up to here?’ demanded Jule.

  ‘Isn’t he just a burglar, dear?’ asked the muscular girl, who had lit a cigarette and spread herself across the bed once more.

  ‘I don’t know? Are you, rat-face?’

  The pain in his arm increased as Julian pressed harder.

  Oh dear, thought Joe. He didn’t want to get into a fight. On the other hand there were limits. Julian must be made to realize that a naked man is peculiarly susceptible.

  He stepped back gently on to his toes. At least, gentleness was his intention. The result was spectacular.

  ‘Aaahh!’ shrieked Julian in agony, hopping backwards till he lost his balance and crashed to the floor.

  The girl on the bed was obviously convinced this was the prelude to a murderous attack. Her aplomb fled, and her naked pose was shattered. One arm crossed her breasts, her other hand pressed hard down on her pubes and she threw back her head to produce a noise like a Cumberland hound-trailer calling his dog home.

  Joe turned to go. Flight was foolish. He had seven children and a minibus to collect before he could go anywhere. But his ears couldn’t take much more of this noise.

  He was prevented by the door being flung open in his face.

  A stocky, grey-haired man with a determined block of a jaw barred his way.

  ‘Hello, Jock,’ said Joe.

  ‘Hello, Joe. What the hell’s going on?’

  For answer Joe stood back to reveal the scene behind him. Jock would vouch for him, he thought moodily, but the Hon. Julian would hardly let the matter rest there. Jock looked in silence at the two naked figures before him. Slowly the noise died down.

  ‘Laidlaw,’ began Julian waving a threatening fist at Joe. ‘Laidlaw, grab this bastard and call the police. No, I’ll call the police. You just grab him. He attacked me.’

  Jock did not move but looked with distaste at the naked pair. There was a strong Puritanical streak in his make-up and his loyalties were to the house, not the family.

  ‘Good day, Mr Julian,’ he said finally. ‘And good day to you too, Mrs Throgmorton.’

  There was the gentlest of stresses on the last two words.

  And Joe knew he was saved.

  Ten minutes later, his explanation and apology having been, on the surface at least, accepted, he was in the head steward’s room, drinking scotch with a Guinness chaser.

  Jock too seemed to accept the slightly different version of the story Joe offered to him.

  ‘I just wanted to do some work in the Book Room. I knew the family were out, you weren’t around, so I set off myself and got lost. Sorry.’

  Jock studied him carefully for a long moment.

  Finally, ‘Aye,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Another wee drop?’

  Joe felt in no mood to carry on with his undercover researches, but ironically, without being in the least pressed, Jock seemed bent on offering him just the kind of information Cess had told him to get. Information about the return from exhibition-loan of certain treasures, about the modification of certain security procedures, and above all about the alarm-system.

  ‘This is the nerve centre of the operation,’ said Jock proudly, leading Joe into a small, windowless room where a junior steward sat reading a magazine before a large panel of switches and lights.

  ‘Christ!’ said Joe, looking around in surprise. ‘This is far more complicated than it used to be.’

  ‘Aye, well. It needs to be, of course. We thought we might as well make a job of it,’ said Jock smugly.

  ‘Needs to be? But why now, specially?’ asked Joe.

  Jock looked at him in surprise.

  ‘You mean you don’t know? Man, I thought you’d surely know! Have you not seen the work that’s been going on up the Great Park?’

  ‘Well, I noticed something being done up by the Blue Grotto last time. But I haven’t been into the park today. Why?’

  He began to laugh as Jock told him. He laughed all the way home. Twice he nearly steered the minibus off the road as his shoulders rocked with internal amusement. He laughed when Cyril met him at the school to check his mileage which to his chagrin was five miles more than it needed to be.

  And when he switched off the light that night and lay down in his bed, lowering his defences against all the mole-like thoughts which during past weeks had come burrowing busily through the dark, for the first time he greeted them without worry and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

  CHAPTER X

  ‘Not Lines. LI-ONS,’ said Joe carefully.

  He had chosen his moment. He wished to savour it to the full, a savour none the worse for being spiced with a dash of fear at the possible violence of Carter’s reaction.

  It was three days since the last trip to Averingerett. He had expected to be summoned earlier and had been disappointed when Sunday and Monday had passed with no word. But he had come home about eight o’clock on Tuesday evening to find Lord Jim in the hallway discussing his whereabouts with a rather fearful Alice.

  Now they were back in the pub store-room where the last meeting took place, only this time there were three others present. Two of them were the men Cess had joined in the bar on the previous occasion, the third he had never seen before. He assumed these constituted the complete Averingerett break-in team.

  Soon to be dismantled, he told himself with relief.

  They had listened in silence as he gave an outline account of his investigations, going out of his way to hint at real detail of information to come, which indeed he had. He wanted them hooked before he came to the high point.

  But as he described the new developments in the controlroom, he saw that this in itself was spreading a great deal of despondency amongst those present. They took their cue from Lord Jim, who questioned him in detail about the system, making him repeat several pieces of information.

  Seeing the effect he was having on his listeners, Joe racked his memory for details and dredged up a much fuller picture than he thought possible, certainly much fuller than he had intended giving to them.

  ‘You sure?’ asked Lord Jim for the fifth or sixth time. ‘Must have cost ’em a fortune. I don’t understand it.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Jim? Can’t we get in?’ asked Cess looking worried.

  ‘It’ll be a lot harder,’ grunted Jim. ‘And take a lot longer.’

  Cess shot an anxious glance at the newcomer to the group, a little dark-skinned man.

  ‘We’ll have all the time in the world,’ he urged. ‘The place’ll be almost deserted. There’s next to no chance of anyone spotting the van parked in those grounds. You take all the time you like, Jim. We’ll stroll around and enjoy the view.’

  He looked around with an unbecoming jocularity to which everyone except the little dark man responded. Even he relaxed a little, however, and Joe decided it was time to speak.

  ‘Yes,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’ll be nice wandering around the grounds at night. Except if you’re worried about lions.’

&
nbsp; No one spoke for a moment.

  ‘Lines?’ said Cess. ‘What kind of lines?’

  ‘Not lines. LI-ONS,’ Joe articulated with great clarity. ‘Lord Trevigore’s lions. Now, what do you want to do next? Look at the ground-floor lay-out?’

  He knew it was a mistake as soon as he spoke. Cess was across the room, holding him lightly by the lapel, in a split second.

  He spoke softly.

  ‘I warned you before about playing clever buggers with me, Sir. Now just you tell us, slow and easy, what you’re talking about. Else I might break your bloody neck.’

  ‘Lions!’ Joe heard himself gabbling. ‘Lions at Averingerett. Like Longleat. He’s turning the grounds into a wild-life park and bringing in some lions.’

  The effect on his hearers was as powerful as he had hoped. Even Cess relaxed his grip and stood back.

  ‘Lots of lions,’ Joe added with vicious emphasis. ‘The savagest there are.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Cess.

  ‘Certain.’

  The little dark-skinned man stood up.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said with a strong East London accent.

  ‘Sit down, Bertie.’

  ‘I don’t fancy no lions, Cess,’ said Bertie.

  ‘Give it a minute, lad,’ said Cess. Bertie shrugged and sat down.

  Cess returned his attention to Joe.

  ‘Details,’ he said. ‘When?’

  ‘End of June,’ said Joe. ‘They weren’t due till later, but they became available. So they’re speeding things up.’

  ‘I don’t fancy them beasts,’ said Bertie again. ‘What about you, Killer?’

  The man called Killer shook his head.

  ‘Know nowt about ’em. But I reckon them’ll need watching.’

  ‘They half-killed a man at the other place,’ said the third man, who didn’t seem to have a name. ‘And he was in a car. Took his arm off.’

  ‘He should have kept his window shut,’ snapped Cess. ‘But you’re all jumping the gun. We know nothing yet. They’re not going to have bloody lions roaming about under their windows, are they? Let’s make some sense. So give, Joe. Where will they be?’

  Joe was ready for this. He fiddled around in his pocket till he found a piece of chalk.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘They won’t be directly outside the house, of course. Look. Here’s the position.’

  He stood up, turned a large packing-case on its side and drew a large circle.

  ‘That’s the Trevigore grounds,’ he said. ‘This bottom quarter-segment is the river.’

  In the circle near the bottom he drew another circle and inside this an oblong.

  ‘That’s the house,’ he said. ‘The small circle contains the formal gardens. The rest is the Great Park. Now a barrier is going up right round the Great Park, that is the large circle. That is to keep the animals in. And a similar barrier round the formal gardens. To keep the things out. But between those two barriers, the lions will have complete freedom of movement. Complete freedom.’

  He spoke with emphasis.

  ‘How the hell does anyone get into the house?’ asked the third man suddenly.

  ‘Simple,’ said Joe enjoying himself. ‘The road comes down across the river here.’

  He drew a dotted line.

  ‘The barrier runs about fifty yards the other side of the river. There is a double gate, one on the bridge, and one in the barrier. One of these will always be shut. Once you’re in you just keep your windows closed and drive straight along to the house, passing through another gate here.’

  He continued the dotted line straight to the rectangle which indicated the house, then drew another circle, also in dots, between the two unbroken circles.

  ‘That indicates the inner track along which those who wish to see the animals will drive. This will bring them full circle back to the main driveway, where they will either turn left for the exit or right if they also wish to visit the house. That’ll cost more, of course.’

  ‘Bugger the cost. We weren’t going to pay,’ said Cess irritably.

  ‘This barrier,’ said Lord Jim, speaking for the first time. ‘Just what is it?’

  Joe sat down again. After his initial scare, he was enjoying himself, but he took care not to let it show.

  ‘Basically a thorn hedge. Some was already in place. A good deal has been transplanted from elsewhere in the park. And some has been newly planted. Eventually the aim is an impenetrable hedge, at least ten feet high and six feet wide.’

  ‘Eventually,’ said Lord Jim. ‘What about now?’

  ‘Now it’s being reinforced with wire, mesh and barbed,’ said Joe. ‘Round the inside of the hedge run a couple of lightly electrified wires, just to warn the animals off. And a third wire runs through the hedge itself and this responds to any fairly violent touch, such as something trying to force its way through, by setting off an alarm in the stables control-house. A steward is on alarm duty twenty-four hours a day and an armed Land-Rover patrol is on constant standby. So any sign that anything’s trying to get out—or in—and they’re right on the spot.’

  ‘That just about wraps it up, my loves,’ said Bertie, making for the door. ‘Who’s for a wet before I leave?’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Cess.

  ‘What for? Little Lord Fauntleroy here’s asking questions about getting into the park, isn’t he? Forget it, Cess. Even if you could get through that hedge with all the gear and without being shot, who in hell’s going to walk a couple of miles with a lot of oversize cats suffering from night starvation? I’m off.’

  The other two, Killer and the Third Man, both made agreeing movements. Only Cess and Lord Jim remained still.

  It’s breaking up! thought Joe gleefully. They’ll have to abandon the whole bloody thing.

  ‘We could bring it forward,’ said Cess without conviction.

  ‘Don’t be daft! I’ve got my outlet timed for July five. It’s a very delicate arrangement. They don’t want the stuff before then—you know that. This kind of gear’s got to move like a peppered ferret till it’s out of harm’s way, hasn’t it? You know that. Do you want to sit on it for a month? Bloody right you don’t. No more do I want to be carting it around with me. In any case, a lot of the stuff we want don’t come back from this pissing exhibition till the end of June. You said that, son?’

  He looked at Joe who nodded affirmation.

  ‘And the family will be in residence till then anyway,’ Joe added.

  ‘There you are. Another risk. No, it stinks to me. Pity. It hasn’t been cheap, not even this far.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Cess again. ‘Two minutes? Right?’

  Bertie shrugged and sat down.

  ‘All right.’

  Cess left the room. To do what? wondered Joe. Check on his information? Report back? Perhaps he didn’t have the authority to cancel without consultation. Then who did?

  ‘Here, tell us again about that pair falling out of bed!’ said Bertie who had been inordinately amused at Joe’s account of his misadventure. Feeling light of heart, Joe re-told the tale, with greater relish and additional embellishment this time.

  Bertie rolled around with laughter, Killer and Third Man smiled widely. Only Lord Jim was unamused. Bertie nudged him.

  ‘What’s the matter, mate? Haven’t you been given permission to laugh, then?’

  Joe shuddered at the thought of taking such liberties with Lord Jim and waited for an explosion, but before anything could happen Cess returned. He still looked worried, Joe was glad to see.

  ‘Bertie, we’ll need a couple of days to work on this,’ he said.

  Bertie looked disbelieving.

  ‘A couple of days?’

  ‘That’s right. You can manage that.’

  ‘Oh, I can manage it all right. But I don’t know if I want to! Look, Cess, I got a reputation. I don’t want no cock-up. Now it sounded like you had a nice little thing going here. Someone on the inside almost, like Joe, that helps. And if Jim says he can get into a
place, I accept that. But now he’s doubtful, isn’t he, and that was before he knew about the bleeding lions and the big white hunters pissing about all over the place! It’s sounding more like a non-starter every minute. Some of the big boys might manage something, but a small set-up like yours is getting out of its depth.’

  Joe had to stop himself applauding. It was a beautiful speech, beating anything in Shakespeare. Cess looked annoyed and offended, but was clearly making an effort to keep himself in check.

  ‘Till the end of the week,’ he urged. ‘You can spare that, Bertie.’

  Bertie shrugged.

  ‘Why not?’ he said to Joe’s disappointment. ‘But I won’t accept no botched-up job, Cess. It’ll have to be watertight before the weekend. Then I’ll have to cancel my market.’

  The meeting broke up and Joe whistled merrily in the car as he drove home. With a bit of luck, his troubles would be over within a very few days. Even the sight of the blue Cortina parked discreetly at the bottom of the street could not take the fine edge off his happiness.

  CHAPTER XI

  The next day at school Joe felt less optimistic and found himself plunged deep into a melancholy which even a new experimental reversal of the school blouse by Maisie Uppadine could not alleviate. In a fit of abstraction he even told little Molly Jarvis, who loved him, to belt up, and had to spend half an hour piecing together the wreckage. Worse, he suspected Molly went and poured her heart out to Maggie Cohen and his fears seemed to be confirmed when Maggie followed him into the English store-room after lunch.

  At least she looked faintly anxious, he thought. Which was a change from the air of cold indifference she had assumed towards him in the past week.

  Better still (or so it seemed at first) her anxiety wasn’t directed at Molly but himself.

  She came straight to the point, not even starting with it’s none of my business but …

  ‘Are you in some sort of trouble, Joe?’

  ‘What had you in mind, Maggie?’ he leered, startled.

  ‘Can we forget the clever cracks, Joe? I asked you a question.’

  Drop in temperature. Watch it, Askern. Why does everyone object so violently to ‘cleverness’?