by Ray Scott
‘They bin callin’ thee,’ he said to McKay, and indicated his mobile telephone in the cabin.
‘Thanks Fred,’ said McKay. ‘We’ll open this lock first then see what it is.’
He was on the telephone for about fifteen minutes. Wallace was standing by the bow when he came back while Fred was busying himself by the stern. McKay looked serious, but there was also an air of satisfaction.
‘Bingo!’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It’s with regard to your cousin, Norman Harrison, who lives in Leatherhead. Alan Kelsey has various contacts in MI 5 and the police, and has found out that apparently your cousin had a break-in a few months back, nothing was taken, but the mode of entry was the same. Whether this means his telephone was tapped I don’t know…yet…but information has been passed to the local detective who was dealing with the case, and he’s going to carry out an investigation now that he knows what he’s looking for.’
‘What about my uncle in Surbiton?’
‘No joy as yet, but Alan’s getting some of his contacts to follow it up.’
‘What about Saul Prosser?’
‘Nothing! Prosser’s office is in a building that is very secure, as you probably know. But in view of your relationship with him Alan called there in person, he explained to Prosser what it was about and they took all his telephone instruments apart – nothing.’
‘Good! How is Saul, did Kelsey say?’
‘He said that Prosser just passed on a message; he was asking about John Springfield’s jobs in USA, Alan told him you were sick but you’d be in touch. What was that about?’
‘Too bloody right I’m sick,’ Wallace snorted. ‘It was a seminar where he’d fixed for me to give an address, over two months away.’
‘Hmmm! Well you might make it yet, we’ll see how things go.’
Wallace grunted. The thought of being in the USA certainly appealed right now, he wondered if he would ever manage to fulfil that engagement. But he didn’t want to cancel it yet.
‘Something else,’ McKay went on. ‘Alan has been in touch with Bramble, they’re going to check things at the Australian end.’
‘Oh Christ! Not bloody Bramble!’
McKay raised one hand.
‘Look, I don’t like bloody Bramble any more than you do, I think he’s a sanctimonious and swell headed prick but there’s one thing he isn’t…he’s not incompetent. He knows what he’s doing and if anyone or anything has dropped you in it from that end he’ll sniff it out.’
‘What now?’
Fred had been sitting puffing away at his pipe at the other end of the craft during this exchange, McKay turned to Wallace.
‘We’d best put Fred in the picture, but leave the talking to me.’
They went astern where Fred was filling the air with cloud of smoke.
‘What am yo’ a goin’ to do now, then?’
‘Do you pass near Knowle, Fred?’ asked McKay.
‘Ah! It’s the way ah goos to London. It’s where ah’m a-goin’ now, I passes through Knowle.’
‘Why Knowle?’ Wallace asked.
‘We’re going to check Ben Wakefield’s telephone.’
‘But surely we need to get to…!’
McKay looked at Wallace meaningly.
‘We must check Ben’s phone, it will answer a lot of questions.’
‘OK!’ Wallace said reluctantly.
‘Yo’ ain’t cummin’ to London wi’ me then?’
‘No,’ McKay said. ‘You’ve done enough for us as it is, you’ve saved our bacon and we don’t want to impose on you too much. You’ve got your living to consider, it’s no good to you and your family if you finish up in jail. We’ll make our own way from Knowle, I’ve made some arrangements. It’s best you’re not involved with us for too long, Fred.’
Fred sat and held the bowl of his pipe, and then nodded.
‘Yo’m probably right,’ he said. ‘When we meet other boats, they’m allus comin’ aboard for a chat, it won’t be easy to explain two strangers, especially wi’ yo’ picture in the pairpers.’
‘In the meantime, we’ll operate the locks.’
Fred grinned and blew a cloud of tobacco smoke in the air.
‘Now yo’m a talkin’ sense,’ he grinned. ‘Sounds arright to me.’
They made good time, McKay and Wallace stayed below most of the time, though they also gave Fred a hand with steering the craft, they decided they would only have one man on top at a time. Both McKay and Wallace made sure they sat hunched up when one of them was on deck and they wore one of Fred’s old caps. They still remembered how they had been sprung at Smethwick West when Rivera and his men had been leaning over the road bridge and spotted them below on the railway truck.
The journey was uneventful. They passed out of Birmingham and eventually reached Bordesley Junction where the canal was joined by the Birmingham and Fazeley canal, which was a link to the Trent and Mersey canal. The amount of traffic increased and Fred decided it would be best if he took over the steering of the craft.
‘We don’t wan’ no accidents now, or drawin’ attention to ourselves,’ he said laconically.
They couldn’t disagree with that.
The boat was now on the Grand Union canal, and the traffic remained heavy, a high proportion of commercial craft with several pleasure craft also on the water. Fred exchanged greetings with some of the regulars, one suggestion to come aboard for a chat and cup of tea was met with the rejoinder that Fred would like to but he was running late due to some engine trouble and had to make up time. He paused long enough to exchange a few items of news and then the boat headed south once more.
Fred thumped on the deck when the boat was in a deserted stretch of water. They cautiously popped their heads through the doorway. Another canal boat was astern of them and moving away.
‘Yo’m right,’ he said seriously. ‘That was Tom Ainslie, mate o’ mine. He jus’ cum up from down south, he wuz searched at Napton Junction.’
‘Where’s that?’ asked McKay.
‘I know where it is,’ Wallace cut in. ‘It’s just past the Braunston Tunnel, this side of it. Did he say who by?’
‘Police, he reckoned,’ Fred said. ‘An’ I’d take his word for it; Tom can smell a copper a mile off. Any’ow, it looks as though they’m onto the cut as a means of travel, maybe somebody blew the whistle.’
‘Who?’
‘Mebbe yo’ mates at Smethwick,’ said Fred. ‘Mebbe they’ve lost you and they’re using the police to find you.’
McKay nodded.
‘You may be right,’ he said. ‘OK, when would we be near to Knowle?’
‘Tonight, I reckon,’ said Fred. ‘Say about nineish.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll rustle up some Aussie chow,’ said McKay. ‘If it suits you we’ll hop off in the morning.’
‘Aussie chow?’ Fred grinned broadly. ‘Good idea.’
The following morning they disembarked. They were both sorry to leave Fred; he had done his best to make them comfortable, and had not stinted with meals and his beer stocks. McKay tried to offer him money so he could replenish his food stocks when they left, but Fred shook his head.
‘Yo’ mate saved me from a beatin’ two weeks back,’ he said. ‘Me and Bert could have finished up in hospital for a few days, mebbe longer, and time’s money on the cut these days. Harry saved me more than ah’d ever spend on a few rashers o’ bacon and a few beers.’
So that was it. They solemnly shook hands as they parted, and Fred clapped Wallace on the shoulder.
‘I’ll be watchin’ the newspairpers,’ he said. ‘Good luck.’
Wallace was near to tears, and panic, when Fred cast off and the barge slowly made its way up the canal with McKay and Wallace standing on the bank. It had been cramped aboard the boat, but for some days it had been a home that gave security, and Wallace felt lost as they stood on the tow path and watched him go. They all waved and then the boat vanished under a bridge.
‘W
here now?’ Wallace asked. ‘Ben’s house?’
‘No.’ McKay shook his head. ‘We can’t do that, he’ll be at work, and it’s possible from what you said that his wife could be there on her own if she’s come back from Scotland. If she is back and she’s been reading the newspapers we could be in trouble, depending on how well you know her.’
‘Not well,’ Wallace conceded. ‘But I know his sister very well, and she lives close by.’
Wallace blushed as he said that, McKay looked at him as he finished saying it and Wallace thought he had an inkling of Wallace’s interest. But again he shook his head.
‘Not on,’ he said. ‘They know that Ben’s a friend, and that possibly we may re-surface there. That could not only endanger us, it could endanger them.’
‘What then?’
‘Stratford-on-Avon. He’s got an insurance brokerage there hasn’t he?’
‘Yes, what are you suggesting?’
‘Well I haven’t been quite straight with you, but I didn’t want to give too much away in front of Fred. Don’t think I don’t trust Fred, I reckon he’s a bloody good bloke, but if he’s questioned by the police he’s got to tell the truth, if he starts telling lies or stretching the truth they’ll pick it and then he’s in trouble. If he doesn’ know then he doesn’ know. They’ll know when he’s telling the truth.’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘I never contemplated going to Knowle, or at least to Ben Wakefield’s. But we do have to contact him, preferably at Stratford.’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘We have to contact him, agreed?’
Wallace nodded.
‘We have to check that telephone of his, and now I do reckon it’s bugged. We have to make sure, and if it is, we make use of it.’
‘How?’
‘We phone Ben Wakefield on that phone, when we’ve told him what’s going on, and tell him where we’re going to be at a certain time. That will alert our friends, and when they arrive they’ll find a reception committee.’
‘Who are you thinking of?’
‘Firstly, Alan Kelsey will be meeting us at Stratford. I’ve already arranged that. Then we contact Ben, and preferably we go in as a threesome into his office, and Alan will be able to prove who he is and give credence to your story. You were lucky last time, the story hadn’t been fully publicised, but with your ex-wife’s back stabbing it’s now been given fresh impetus, and I’d be bloody surprised if Ben Wakefield hasn’t heard something by now.’
And Liz, Wallace thought. Shit! She’s probably thinking right now he was a murderer. The thought that she might believe ill of him was worse than the thought of being caught by Rivera or Kalim.
‘Then we check his phone, maybe we’ll stay in Stratford while Alan Kelsey goes back with Ben to Knowle, he might bring an electronics technician with him.’
‘What reception committee are you thinking of?’
‘This is a British security matter,’ said McKay. ‘Ravindran was assassinated on their soil and they will have to sort it out, not us. It’s their home ground and their prerogative. What we need to do is offload these computer drives. We might even use the mail service. I reckon that might be the best way, frankly.’
‘How do we contact M.I.5?’’
‘We don’t,’ said McKay. ‘That’s Kelsey’s job, he has close links with CIA, MI 5 and MI 6, we all share information. Running down Kalim and his men in England is either MI 5’s job or that of the police, not ours.’
‘OK,’ Wallace nodded in agreement. His initial reaction had been annoyance that McKay had had his own plan and not kept him, Wallace, in the picture, but on reflection he could see why.
‘So we head for Stratford.’
‘Yes, let’s go. There’s a bus stop down there, let’s see where it leads us.’
Chapter 27
It took some time to reach Stratford-on-Avon; they took a train from Dorridge after catching a bus to the station and changed trains at Small Heath, then went to a nearby Post Office. They had been discussing the question of the computer discs and the film containing the shots of Murray Craddock that McKay had been carrying, and finally decided to mail them all to the High Commission. It was pointless taking the risk of being captured or killed by Kalim’s men – or possibly by Ravindran’s supporters who were still in the equation somewhere – and thus losing all the information and the Murray Craddock photographs as well. After they left the station, McKay purchased the required envelope and mailed them all by Registered Post to the High Commission for the attention of Alan Kelsey.
‘They’ll get there before he does,’ commented McKay. ‘He should be on his way to Stratford by now. I’ll tell him what we’ve done when I see him, he can authorise someone else to open it up.’
They arrived in Stratford about 2.30 pm, as they walked from the station Wallace asked McKay how they were to meet up with his High Commission colleague.
‘Ever heard of Anne Hathaway?’
‘Many times,’ Wallace said coldly.
‘Well, that’s where,’ replied McKay. ‘It’s well known and well signposted; even Australian Intelligence agents should be able to find it…’ he grinned broadly and continued: ‘…and possibly even political murderers.’
Wallace didn’t think that was particularly funny and told him so, but McKay’s chuckle was so infectious that even the political murderer reluctantly had to smile, albeit through gritted teeth.
‘The other point is this, it’s a little bit out of town, and secondly, if Ben Wakefield is working as I imagine an insurance broker would work, he won’t be sight seeing in the middle of a working day. He’s the last person we want to meet first off, he surely must have an inkling of what you’re wanted for by now so we don’t want to risk him dobbing you in to the police.’
‘Ben wouldn’t turn me in.’
‘Wouldn’t he? You don’t know what he’d do. A man wanted for murder, someone on the run that he’s been sheltering in his own home? He’s got a business and a reputation to uphold, he’s got to protect his back. This has got to be done right, or we’re in deep trouble.’
Wallace subsided into silence, though he would still trust Ben Wakefield, he had to admit that McKay had a point, a man who had painstakingly built up a business and a reputation would not welcome a charge of harbouring a criminal and finishing up in jail. Further, Wallace couldn’t rely on Ben confining his newspaper reading to the sports pages forever. Liz was not so sports addicted, and may well have read something by now; if she had then she would have told Ben.
‘So what do we do then?’
‘Either we sit outside and wait, or else we go in and enjoy a bit of culture while we are waiting.’
Wallace considered the prospect then shook his head.
‘I’d sooner stay out here, preferably under the trees over there, well out of the way. If I’m seen by someone in a confined space it’s possible for them to associate me with a picture they’ve seen in the papers.’
‘And sitting around outside may attract the attention of any passing policeman,’ said McKay pointedly. ‘Two men hovering under trees at a well known tourist site could also attract attention. Be ironic if we were picked up as possible sex offenders or car thieves.’
‘Damnation!’ Wallace exclaimed irritably. ‘I don’t know then.’
‘We go in, and we go in as two separate individuals. And don’t get into conversation with anyone or say G’day, no worries or my oath.’
‘Nor fair dinkum?’ Wallace suggested, and smiled despite himself when McKay agreed, saying: ‘My oath!’
They entered the establishment and paid their entry fees, but separately. Wallace went in first and McKay followed about five minutes later. Nobody took any notice of them and they wandered around the cottage. Despite the serious situation Wallace found the tour quite interesting, and was particularly interested in the small size of the house. He wasn’t sure how many people lived in it at the time Shakespeare or Anne Hathaway were
around the place, but was tending to judge living space by Australian standards where mainly single storey house design and building had developed into an art form with many innovations.
He had an awkward moment when a small boy ran into him, not looking where he was going as small boys do, or do not! His mother was most apologetic and gave him a telling off but as Wallace saw his lower lip pucker he felt he had to say something to re-assure him. He remembered McKay’s injunction to speak to nobody but this wasn’t going to be easy. Wallace recalled Fred Hackett’s accent and gave a passable imitation of it as he insisted that there was no problem and went down on one knee to chat with him.
‘Doa let it wurry you,’ Wallace said, flushing crimson at the thought that McKay might hear it. ‘It ay nuttin’.’
Wallace smiled reassuringly at his mother, who returned the smile and then they parted. He watched anxiously in case she went out in a hurry fumbling for a mobile telephone but she went into another room to examine all the furniture and accoutrements. He then lost sight of her and the boy and the anxious moment passed. She was still somewhere in the cottage when McKay caught his eye, and gave a brief sideways inclination of his head. Wallace nodded in response and made his way out slowly, taking his time. Wallace agreed with him that they didn’t want to present as a twosome too frequently.
Then he struck a problem, as he passed out through the entrance he bumped into a woman coming in. He backed off and she said: ‘Sorry’ and Wallace said ‘G’Day! No worries.’ He hastily added: ‘That’s OK!’ but as he said the ‘OK’ realised his Australian accent could have come through strongly. He saw her eyes tense, and then they parted, she went in and Wallace went out to the car park. He looked back and realised she was still looking in his direction then she disappeared inside. He then saw her through one of the windows. She was talking to the receptionist inside whereupon she too looked out of the window. As Wallace walked off he looked back, the receptionist had her ear to a telephone.
‘Shit!’ Wallace ground out to himself, and headed for McKay who was with another man, a fair haired man of medium height, who was wearing a parka jacket.