Feint to deceive your opponent.
Your opponent will offer a parry followed by a riposte.
Parry, then launch a premeditated counter-attack.
Unfortunately this presupposed that you were equipped and that your opponent was not a madman. And this was not a practice match. Ralph only chance was to provoke Riggs to lose his temper and thus his concentration.
“You may have killed those judges, Riggs, but it was all a waste of time. You achieved nothing,” Ralph shouted.
“You are so naïve. I would not soil my hands with such work. I employ people to do those things. Labourers and artisans like you, Professor. And you are wrong. It was all worthwhile. Those people refused to recognise my son’s genius, and for that they had to pay the price for their actions.”
“But it was a waste. Your son wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“How dare you talk about my James.” Ralph could see that he had touched a nerve. Riggs was getting more agitated. “My son is recovering. He spoke to me tonight. When he comes home we will show the world his true genius.”
Riggs still pointed the sword at Ralph’s chest. Ralph cast around desperately for something with which to defend himself. He saw an IV stand, but it was out of reach. He hoped that the nurse had pressed the alarm to summon help, but time was running out. He thought of using his arm to knock the sword aside but figured that Riggs was too good a swordsman to let that stop him.
Then he noticed Molly Riggs. He guessed that she had been waiting for Riggs to leave so that she could visit James. When Riggs saw Ralph’s glance, he turned. Just as he did so, something smacked into Riggs, and he fell. The sword clattered on the sterile tile floor. Then Ralph saw the man in the wheelchair.
“Here give me hand,” the man shouted.
Ralph ran across as Riggs tried to get up. Before Ralph could do anything he saw Leon put something in his mouth. Ralph tried to grab his hand but it was too late. Riggs gave a triumphant smile.
“Once again you are too late, Professor. Tell James that I did it all for him.” He slumped back as the nurse ran up with two burly security guards.
“Not as quick as I used to be, sir. It’s a lot easier when you have legs, although this chair is pretty slick.”
A fit sun bronzed young man was manoeuvring the wheelchair as a tall, good looking woman steeped forward.
“You all right, Scott?”
“Sure. Although I could still have got him without the help of your push,” Scott chuckled.
“Sorry. I’m Margaret Dainton. And this is Corporal Scott Jackson, Queen’s Lancashire Regiment.”
“Ex,” laughed Scott.
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Chapter 11
Inspector Linham sipped a mug of sweet tea. His wife had asked him to cut back on the sugar, but he saw it, along with bacon sandwiches and tomato sauce, as one of life’s pleasures. The police canteen at Kingston was not the most salubrious of places, but for the Inspector and his Sergeant it was a haven.
“Our friend Professor Chalmers did us proud on this one, Sir,” said Wilson as he finished off the last of his bacon sandwich and acknowledged the two constables who walked past.
“That Leon Riggs was a nasty piece of work, Sergeant. If he hadn’t topped himself with that cyanide pill, he would have got life.”
“Difficult to prove that he paid that Petrovich bloke to do those murders, Sir.”
“He’ll talk. Once he knows that Riggs is dead, he’s nothing to lose. Those types like to boast.”
“But the Professor got it wrong about that Czech firm, you know, thinking they were involved in that industrial espionage business. He thought they’d bribed those judges and then wanted to stop them talking.”
“Well he wasn’t a mile off, Wilson. There’s a fax from Europol that’s just come in. It’s in the file. It seems that the Czech firm had been fiddling export documentation. The local police raided the place and found a computer that they’ve identified as the one reported stolen from James Riggs flat, and a bunch of documents that I suspect were stolen at the same time.”
The Inspector took out his pocket diary.
“I’m going to be busy this week by the looks of things. So you’ll need to get the Professor to come in and make a statement about what happened at St. Georges and at the Albert Hall, Wilson. The coroner’s enquiry will want to know chapter and verse how Leon Riggs met his end. Even if he did take poison we’ll have to know exactly what part the Professor played in all of this.”
“He got some help from what I saw in the report from the local police. That soldier in the wheelchair saved the Professor’s life, from what the ward nurse said in her statement, Sir.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll get the Professor to slow down.”
“I’d not bet on that, Sir.”
“Get us another tea, Wilson, and then we need to crack on with some of that blasted paper-work.”
***
The crowd at the Black Lion pub, in Surbiton were warming up for the big match on the large screen TV. The proprietor and the brewery had spent a lot of money turning the pub not only into a place where you could get a good meal, but a mecca for football fans. Expectations were running high for a win by Manchester United over Bayern Munich in a special charity match.
It was a beautiful evening and Ralph and Katie had been for a long walk along the Thames riverbank. Afterwards they had stopped in for a bite to eat and now sat in a side booth, having just finished their supper.
“Have you got all that business with Granger sorted out yet, Ralph?”
“About as much as can be expected. He’s off the hook with the VC and Barnes has agreed to take early retirement. I guess everyone’s happy.”
“And what about your friend Sarah? Still chasing after you?” she laughed.
“Who told you about that?”
“We women have our ways of finding these things out. But don’t worry, Ralph. If I thought for a second that you were stupid enough to get fooled by that woman, then I wouldn’t be sitting here. Don’t look so worried. I’m pulling your leg, silly.”
“That Corporal Scott Jackson. he’s a great bloke. If he hadn’t been there then it could have been curtains for me.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Ralph. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No, seriously. He came at Riggs like a rocket. He was one of the wounded heroes that Margaret Dainton had painted for the Turner Prize. I hear that she wants to work with James once he’s fully recovered as well. And the German firm, Webber, are still planning to back his project.”
“So are you now in the good books with the Dean at the Art Faculty? It sounds like they should at least say thanks.”
“Well, I think Molly and James will get back together now that the father’s out of the way. Oh I forgot to tell you. I called Pradeep and told him that I was too busy for that new book he wanted me to write.”
“You were never going to do it, Ralph. It’s not you. Best to stick with what you do well.”
The truth was that Ralph had put forward an outline and a title – The Invictus Factor. Pradeep had said he didn’t think it would appeal to the market and that perhaps he should stick with being an academic. Ralph had been secretly quite pleased.
“And I had a letter from the boss of Steam Dreams. It seems that all that publicity about the murders on their Cathedral Express excursions has boosted sales sky high. They’re sold out for the next six months. They’ve offered us complimentary First Class tickets for their Orient Express trip between Paris and Istanbul as a sort of ‘thank you’.”
“And.”
“Well, it’s not really us, is it?”
“Speak for yourself, Ralph Chalmers. But I suppose I could always ask that handsome Scott Jackson to go with me if you’d rather not,” she joked. “Now take me home before that noisy football match starts.”
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edral Express (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 9)
Murder on the Cathedral Express (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 9) Page 13