Warning at One

by Ann Purser

  The baby stirred and gave a small cry. Alastair sat up and grasped his gun tightly. Lois smiled, and helped the woman put the little mouth to her breast.

  "Isn't it miraculous?" she said conversationally to Alastair. "Every time, a miracle."

  "Or a bloody disaster," he grunted.

  The other two men were yawning, and one of them asked if they were still needed. "Nothin' we can do now until Terry brings 'em in the minibus," he said. He gave another nudge to his mate. "Him and me could do with a kip before tomorrow. Big day, boss," he reminded Alastair. "What will you do with the brat?" he added. "Why don't we just take it now and get it over with?"

  Lois held her breath and they all stared at Alastair. The mother understood enough to fold her arms protectively around the baby.

  Alastair stared at the woman who had looked after him so well, in spite of his showing total indifference towards her. "Leave it," he said. "The brat's part of our bargain with Mrs. Meade. Bugger off, both of you. There's those sleeping bags in the big bedroom." He looked at his watch. "You take two hours, and then we'll switch. I don't need much sleep, but there's a lot to do tomorrow. Trust that woman to produce the kid tonight of all nights," he added.

  After they had gone, Lois said, "How much English does she understand?"

  "More than she lets on. Why?" he said. He looked at her suspiciously. What had she got in mind? He had heard of Lois's reputation but had always dismissed it with a laugh. How could a cleaning woman be useful to the police?

  "Good," said Lois. "We need to talk."

  "No, we bloody don't!" said Alastair. "Keep your mouth shut, else I'll gag you again."

  Splendid, thought Lois, and began to talk. She pretended she knew exactly what he and his associates were doing, hoping that her guesswork would be close to the truth. "One thing I'd like to know from you," she said authoritatively, as if she was not facing a loaded gun. Was it loaded? She had to assume it was.

  "Shut up!" said Alastair.

  Lois ignored him. "What were you going to do if you'd not been able to get me? Leave this woman to die, and her baby, too? Because that's what would have happened."

  "Oh, no," Alastair said, sounding quite offended. "We had it all arranged. Pat—"

  "—or Patricia?" interrupted Lois.

  "Oh, very clever, Mrs. Meade. Well, we'd got all the gear for Pat to deliver the baby. Instruments, everything. Even a black bag. We were especially proud of the black bag. The woman was going to be safe. She was too useful to me. But then Pat was careless. Had a skinful once too often and blabbed to some of our associates in the pub, boasting about the cushy job at the museum, and other confidential matters. There were listeners there, as usual. I tried to save the stupid idiot, but no chance. They dealt with him. Things were beginning to look dicey for all of us in the trade, and we had one more job to do."

  "But why me?"

  "The woman going into labour took us by surprise, and you were the only person I could grab locally. At least there's a chance of keeping your mouth shut. And now," he added with menace, "not another word from you."

  "So this baby was to be killed," continued Lois. "That tiny little spark of life you saw struggling into the world. What a welcome!" Lois was trembling now as she watched him finally lumber from his seat towards her. He picked up the filthy gag in one hand, and with the other tightened his grip on the gun.

  "Get up!" He stood in front of her now, his crotch level with her head. The very thought of what she had to do made her feel sick, but like lightning she butted her head forward straight into his goolies. He doubled up and yelled with pain, dropping gag and gun.

  Lois was on the gun in seconds. She gave him an almighty push so that he collapsed on the floor, and held the gun to his temple.

  "I know how to use this," she lied. "Stay where you are. It won't be for long. By now they'll be combing the country for me, and the penny's bound to drop soon, even with Cowgill." She stopped, and caught her breath as she remembered Jeems's little body stretched out on the footpath. Derek would find her, but maybe too late.

  She controlled herself with difficulty, and said, "And don't try getting those thugs back in here. There's more than one bullet in this, I'm sure. With your organising genius you'll have thought of that. Don't move, Mr. Smith. We must be patient now."

  She returned to her seat on the bed, keeping the gun trained on his prone figure. She looked around the room speculatively. High up on a cupboard she saw to her surprise a large fluffy rabbit pyjama case.

  "Well, that's a point in your favour," she said. "At least you thought of a toy." She went across and lifted it down. As she did so, the half-open zip disgorged a shower of booklets.

  "Put those back!" shouted Alastair from the floor.

  Lois picked up one of them, and saw the word Passport.

  "Oh, my Lord, you wicked sod!" she yelled at him, and stuck the gun to his head again.

  Alastair groaned. "For God's sake, don't shoot," he pleaded, and then Lois knew that it was loaded.

  COWGILL, DEREK, AND DOT MOVED SWIFTLY AND QUIETLY. COWgill had summoned his troops and they were stationed in the shadows along the High Street.

  "You wait here," he said, and stood firm against Derek's protestations that he should be the first to rescue his own wife. As they approached the house where Dot said Lois was sure to be held prisoner, Cowgill heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. It was a dark blue minibus, and it turned down the lane to the playing field.

  "Listen!" Dot growled. In a minute or two the engine was shut off, and the village was silent once more.

  "Got 'em!" whispered Cowgill. He then became the perfect professional and made sure his men were where they could be ready for anything, but neither seen nor heard. "You wait under that tree," he said to Derek. "And no heroics, please," he added. "You could cost us Lois's life by blundering in."

  Now Cowgill glided along the front path and round to the back of the house. He went swiftly past the minibus parked there. Its terrified illegal cargo had been greeted by police, accompanied by Dot Nimmo to guide them, well prepared.

  "Now," Cowgill whispered to the man guarding the door.

  "WHAT KEPT YOU?" SAID LOIS, AS COWGILL ENTERED. "THERE'S another couple of charmers in the front," she added. "Pity to spoil their beauty sleep, but they might have guns." She waved hers gaily towards the door, and Cowgill rapidly relieved her of it.

  Then he saw the woman and the sweetly snuffling baby, and realised what Lois had been brought here to do. He put his arms around her and held her tight, his face against her hair. She stayed quite still, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of him. Then she gently pulled away and nodded.

  "Better send for an ambulance," she said. "I never was much good at first aid, an' there's probably things to be taken care of."

  FIFTY-SIX

  DOUGLAS WAS LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW INTO DIMLY LIT Gordon Street. Derek had told him that his mother was missing and he had wanted to set out on a search at once. But Derek had said to stay put. Lois might phone him there if she was in trouble. Douglas had said surely if she could phone she would try Derek first. "Don't argue," Derek had said, and Douglas knew from the tone of his voice that he should do as he was told.

  Susie sat by his side, holding his hand and occasionally stroking his arm. She could feel the tension in him and wished she could do something more useful to help.

  Time passed. Douglas looked at his watch. "Wouldn't you like to get some sleep?" he asked, but Susie shook her head and said she couldn't possibly sleep until Lois was safe. Douglas held her close and the two stared out without talking.

  A light snapped on upstairs in Braeside, and Douglas and Susie jumped to attention. They saw a figure silhouetted against the light. "It's her," Susie said. "It's Mrs. Thingummy, in her nightie."

  "Blairgowrie," said Douglas. "What the hell's she doing up at this time of night?"

  "Going for a pee?" said Susie.

  Then the light went out, and Douglas said, "Watch car
efully, Susie. Especially the front door."

  They did not have long to wait. A police car came slowly down the road and pulled up outside. They saw the policeman walk swiftly to the house, and then another joined him and they gave a great kick to the front door. It splintered open, and they rushed in.

  Douglas ran out, followed immediately by Susie. He pushed his way into Braeside and saw Mrs. Blairgowrie— now strangely bald—struggling as a policeman secured her wrists. Her wrists? Douglas gulped. She was a man, he saw with disgust. "Go back, Susie," he said firmly, but she didn't move from his side.

  The second policeman came rattling down the stairs. "Nobody else," he said.

  "Where's my mother?" shouted Douglas, and he moved threateningly towards the captive. The policeman caught hold of him and said, "Steady now. Your mother's safe at home. She'll be wanting to see you."

  "Is she hurt?" Susie said anxiously.

  The policeman smiled. "Not so's you'd notice. I'd say she was fighting fit, even after a great night's work."

  THEY WERE ALL THERE. GRAN, LOIS AND DEREK, JOSIE AND ROB, and Jamie, and as Douglas and Susie came in, Lois hugged them both. "Sorry about all that," she said. She was holding on to a sleepy Jeems as if she would never let her go.

  After Gran had insisted on Horlicks and digestive biscuits—"No coffee at this time of night"—Lois told them as briefly as possible what had happened, how illegal immigrants from several countries had been smuggled in by Alastair and his contacts over a long period. She explained about the woman he had kept for his own use, and the baby now safe from certain death. A knock at the door interrupted her, and she went apprehensively to open it. Cowgill and Dot stood there.

  "I'm just checking to make sure you are not in any way hurt," he said in an official voice. "There will be questions and so on, but tomorrow will do for that."

  They turned to go, and Lois said, "Dot! Where are you going? Into the kitchen with you. Gran'll kill me if I let you go home without us looking after you."

  Dot grinned, gave Cowgill a peck on the cheek, and went through to the kitchen.

  Lois looked at him without speaking. After a few seconds she put out her hand and touched his arm. "I'm fine," she said. "They're all here, standing by. I'd ask you in, but . . ."

  Cowgill shook his head. "I quite understand," he said. "So long as you're not hurt. I'll say good night now. Well done, Lois," he added, and turned on his heel. She watched as he got into his car and drove away. Poor old Hunter, she thought, going home to an empty house and a cold bed. She shook herself, shut the door, and returned to her family.

  An hour of amiable questions and answers passed, and finally Lois yawned widely. "Time for bed, everyone," she said. "Dot, you're in the spare room. Douglas— um—well, you and Susie . . ."

  Douglas rescued her. "That sounds like the perfect cue," he said, and stood up. He took Susie's hand and cleared his throat. "I'd like to say that one good thing came out of tonight's dramas. While me and Susie were waiting for something to happen, I asked her to marry me. Not the most romantic venue, I suppose, but she said yes, and I'm the happiest man in the world."

  After that, there was no going to bed. Derek found a bottle of bubbly wine, and a toast was drunk. "Well done, Douglas," he said. "And welcome, Susie, to our family. As to the romantic venue, I'll tell you how I proposed to your mother. We were on a day trip to Brighton on my motorbike. We thought we'd go along the coast to have tea at Rottingdean, and on a patch of loose gravel the bike spun and tipped her off. I lifted her up, sat her down on the verge, knelt down on me grazed knee, and asked her to marry me."

  Everybody looked at Lois, who was smiling broadly. "And I said yes, more fool me," she said. "Still, I'd do the same today. Your dad, Douglas," she added, "has picked me up from disaster many times since then, and I hope you'll do the same for Susie."

  A round of applause drowned Derek's aside to Gran. "I hope the girl won't get hooked on ferretin' like our Lois," he whispered.

  "It's Josie I worry about," Gran replied under her breath. "Like mother, like daughter," she added. Derek looked across at Josie sitting next to Rob, and saw him put his hand over hers. With some alarm he watched as she withdrew her hand and turned away to blow Susie a kiss. Rob's a fool, he thought. Should have popped the question months ago. Looks like it's too late now.

  * * *

  DAWN WAS BREAKING OVER TRESHAM AS COWGILL WAS FINALLY able to drive up to his substantial house in the best part of town. No welcoming lights shone from the windows, there would be no warm gathering in his chilly kitchen. After the death of his wife, his daughter had wanted him to move into a flat, but he had resisted. Now he thought that it might, after all, be the most sensible thing.

  He checked his messages. There was one from his nephew Matthew, a bright, confident voice telling him he would be coming at the weekend to work on the cottage and hoped to see him. Oh, and by the way, did he know if Josie Meade was around? Not on holiday or anything like that?

  Cowgill smiled to himself. He felt cheered, and went to bed with the memory of a small, bare bedroom in Long Farnden and Lois in his arms.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  NEXT MORNING, COWGILL WAS IN LONG FARNDEN punctually at ten thirty. Lois saw him park outside the house and approach up the drive. He had a spring in his step, she noticed with amusement. Another case wrapped up, and one step nearer to his retirement. She wondered if they counted up the number of cases solved and adjusted pensions accordingly. Of course not. It would all be part of an elaborate structure, and whatever it was, he would be loaded. What would he do with himself? He was a policeman to his bones, and seemed to have no hobbies or outside interests.

  She shook herself. He'd made no mention of retirement lately, and in any case it was no business of hers. She dodged out of her office quickly, before Gran could get to the front door first.

  "Morning, Lois," he said. "Is Derek here? I hope this won't take too long, but we do have some sorting out to do."

  She led him into the sitting room, called Derek, and asked Gran to bring some coffee.

  "I expect you'll want me to answer questions as well?" Gran said, smiling hopefully at Cowgill. He replied that he would be most grateful if she could stick around, so that he could check any points with her. "But for the moment," he said gently, "I'd like to talk to Lois and Derek."

  Gran's face fell, and she departed looking huffy.

  "I hope you got some sleep, you two," Cowgill began. "I wish we could do this later, but memory is fickle. Some things seem to vanish, and often they are the important links. So here goes."

  "Why don't you start?" said Derek grumpily. "You tell us what you think we don't know, and then we'll fill in the rest. Or rather, Lois will. I know very little, as usual," he added sourly.

  This was not what Cowgill had planned. He had his questions prepared and would go through them systematically. But he could see that Derek intended to assert his head-ofthe-household status, and revised his plan.

  "Right. This is the position as we know it. As you will appreciate, there are some things we have not been able to divulge . . ."

  "Well, divulge them now, and get on with it," Derek snapped. Lois grinned and said nothing.

  "Right. First of all, this trafficking in illegal immigrants is a much wider organisation than the cell in Tresham. Smith— we'll call him that—was boss of his small outfit, but answerable to higher authority."

  "That's not something we don't know," Lois said. "Dot told me that ages ago."

  "Ah, well, I'm sorry you neglected to pass that on to me, Lois." He smiled forgivingly at her, and continued. "Anyway, the system gives the likes of Smith a certain amount of freedom to operate. It also helps him with jobs like forging passports and setting up safe houses for the poor sods who've paid thousands to get here. The network uses no-hopers and ex-cons with secrets to hide who won't flinch at theft, violence, and, if necessary, murder."

  In Lois's inner eye, a picture of Clem upside down in his toilet was quickly fo
llowed by a grey-haired postmistress with her head at a funny angle. She swallowed hard.

  "Smith can call on these characters when he needs them," Cowgill continued. "And he'd got your Skinny Man and Mrs. Blairgowrie where he wanted them. Blackmail, not to put too fine a point on it. Smith used the little Gordon Street house for hiding packages of passports, and as a convenient sleepover before the victims got moved on. Hence the sleeping bags," he added with a smile at Lois.

  "You have to hand it to Mrs. B and Skinny Man! They made very convincing women. Both of 'em fooled me." Lois laughed.

  "Depends how you like your women," Derek muttered, glaring at Lois. "Go on, Inspector."

  "They're professionals, Lois," Cowgill said. "Both of those villains were well known to us. The poor old blind lady is actually a hit-and-run merchant. He was speeding in a builtup area of Glasgow, and mowed down a small boy. The child didn't make it. We're very glad to have so-called Blairgowrie in our care."