by Tania Crosse
‘Course she is,’ Gert bristled. ‘It’s her husband what’s got caught up in this. She’d hardly inform on him if she wasn’t worried sick, would she?’
The sergeant pulled his lip harder. ‘And you can’t tell me anything more?’
‘Oh, wait a jiffy,’ Gert frowned. ‘She did say she thought there was a man called – oh, what was it? That’s right. Jackson, I think. He seems to be the ringleader.’
‘Jackson?’ The officer straightened up abruptly. ‘We’ve had someone called Jackson under suspicion for some time. If it’s the same fellow, he’s a slippery customer. Never seem to be able to get enough evidence to charge him. But a nasty piece of work. Wait here a minute. I’ll go and get my superior.’
‘Could I possibly use a phone?’ Rob asked, getting to his feet. ‘Just to ring my parents. They’re having a party we’re all supposed to be at, and they’ll be worried we haven’t turned up.’
‘Of course. Come this way.’
The two men left the room, and Gert began chewing her nails. ‘I’m really worried, Jess,’ she muttered, turning to her friend. ‘I shouldn’t have let Hill go off on her own. You heard what the officer said about this Jackson fellow.’
‘Hillie’s not stupid,’ Jessica tried to reassure her. ‘You just tell them everything you know.’
‘But as he said, that ain’t a lot.’
‘But if the police already know of this Jackson chap—’
The door opened again, and another man came back in with Rob.
‘I’m Inspector Chamings,’ he introduced himself, sitting down at the table. ‘Now, Miss Parker, I want you to tell me absolutely everything. Every detail, however trivial it might seem.’
‘Can’t tell you much. Only what Hillie told me. I mean, we all knew her Jimmy’s been running errands on the side – I guess for this Jackson fella – for ages. None of us thought nothing of it till now.’
‘All right. Start at the beginning. Take your time.’
Gert did her best, trawling her memory for any small clues. There didn’t seem much. Just Jimmy’s frequent absences that eventually cost him his job at Price’s.
‘But then he went to work full-time for this chap,’ Gert concluded. ‘Hillie never mentioned his name before. Or that there was anything dodgy about it. But I don’t think she really knew much about it until now. But he seemed to be paying Jimmy OK. Even before that, Jimmy’d turn up with a nice present for Hillie. Clothes. Stockings. Oh, and she was thrilled with a little cut-glass vase he bought her in Arding and Hobbs back in the summer. Not the sort of thing you’d ever think they could afford.’
‘And now… you think it could’ve been stolen?’ the inspector suggested.
‘No, I know the vase wasn’t,’ Jessica told him. ‘My father’s manager of the jewellery and expensive gifts department. It was a while ago, but I remember him being put out when Jimmy bought the vase. He’s sort of accepted Hillie, but Jimmy, well… He couldn’t understand how he had the money to buy something like that.’
The inspector lifted his chin. ‘Could’ve been a ruse of some sort. Casing the joint, but making it look innocent. Now, I need to talk to the Chief Inspector. In the meantime, I’ll have some tea sent in for you.’
Gert nodded, but her pulse was trundling. Fine New Year’s Eve this was turning into. And she had work in the morning. The tea tasted bitter in her mouth. Hillie was out there somewhere, alone and in danger. If anything happened to her, Gert would never forgive herself.
The tea dregs had gone cold by the time Inspector Chamings returned.
‘Right. Everyone’s on the alert. All over London. Sent messages to our bobbies on the beat to keep their eyes peeled.’
A knock on the door interrupted him, and the sergeant poked his head into the room. ‘Sir, we’ve just had a phone call from a night-watchman at Arding and Hobbs. Something’s going on. Then the line went dead.’
Gert felt her heart bounce and she sprang up. But the inspector put out his hand. ‘No. You lot must stay here. We’ll do all we can to protect your friend. But you, miss,’ he said, addressing Jessica, ‘we need to contact your father at once.’
‘That’s easy. He’s at the Arding and Hobbs party. At his boss’s house. They’ll all be there. All the directors, everyone. I’ll give you the address.’
Gert gazed about her, dumbstruck with fear. Now she knew there was definitely something happening, she was terrified that Hillie might get hurt. Horror tumbled in her belly and she burst into tears in Rob’s arms.
*
Kit nodded at the night porter who was locking up the gates at the back entrance to Clapham Junction Station, and the two men wished each other a Happy New Year. Kit’s shift had finished a little while ago, but he’d been reluctant to leave and had supped a welcome cuppa with a colleague before setting off home.
Except he wasn’t going home, at least only to change. He was expected at the party at Rob and Belinda’s parents’ house. Brother and sister had become good friends to him, and he really liked Belinda. He wished he could feel attracted to her, but he couldn’t. The fact was that he wasn’t over Hillie yet. He still loved her. Always would.
His heart bled whenever he was with her. The times they all spent together as a group were exquisite torture for him. He felt awash with a warm gladness in her presence, and yet his soul was in torment. For she would never be his.
Oh, what a damned fool he’d been! He’d wanted to do everything right, be able to offer her a good home, a secure future, before he told her how he loved her. Beg for her hand. Why, oh why hadn’t he said something sooner? Before Jimmy Baxter had rescued her from that brute they now knew wasn’t her father at all? His own stupid pride, his need to prove himself worthy of her, had got in the way. And maybe he’d have been too dull and boring for her anyway. Unlike Jimmy who was fun and exciting.
The pain was bearable – just – when Jimmy wasn’t there. When she was happy and laughing. So beautiful. The scent of her so enticing. But Jimmy would be at the party, and Kit was dreading it. To see Jimmy kissing her at midnight would be agony. He couldn’t get the image of it out of his head. So much so that he’d tried to get out of the party by offering to babysit so that his mum and dad could go instead. But to his dismay, Eva had insisted he went. It wasn’t so long since Old Sal had died, and Eva just wanted a quiet night in after all the jollifications over Christmas.
Kit dragged himself along beneath the lines of raised railway track that would cross Falcon Road at the far end. The long way was dimly lit, the iron pillars silhouetted like eerie sentinels in the gloom. All was dark and empty with the station locked up and only the night staff on their shifts for the goods trains. The long row of arches beneath the multiple tracks, each closed off by heavy doors and iron grilles, were silent and creepy. Banana arches some people called them. Some nights the scene was a hive of activity, but tonight all was deserted.
Or was it? Kit saw a van turn in from Falcon Road and stop by the third arch in, the last of three smaller ones sealed off with just one door. Nothing unusual in someone turning up at their lock-up late at night. But what happened next was.
The back door of the van was opened and after looking furtively about them, the driver and his mate dragged two figures from the vehicle and manhandled them across to the arch. Kit instinctively pulled back behind one of the pillars to observe. One of the victims was a man, a bit skinny, but a man nonetheless. The other – Good Lord – was wearing a skirt. Tall-ish for a girl, but definitely a girl, kicking and struggling like a wild thing, until she managed to shake off the sack or whatever it was over her head.
Jesus Christ, she looked like Hillie. It was Hillie! And… and the man had exactly the same physique as Jimmy.
Kit’s heart reared up, and he shrank back behind the pillar, leaning against it as his spinning brain tried to make sense of what he’d seen. What the hell…? His Hillie was in trouble. Deep trouble by the looks of things. His heart was galloping. He’d never trusted that Jimm
y, and now he’d obviously got Hillie into danger. Kit had to rescue her, but what in God’s name could he do? Think. Think!
He peered round the corner of the pillar again. Hillie and Jimmy were bundled inside, and their abductors went with them. Kit waited, straining to stay put. He was no coward, but there were two of them and only one of him. And there could be others inside. If Kit went blundering in, he could be overpowered as well, and then none of them would have a chance of escape.
He waited in an agony of frustration until the men came out again and drove off, and then he ran up to the arch. The heavy door was locked, but with a mortice rather than a padlock. That could possibly mean that there was someone else already there who could operate the lock from the inside. Maybe even more than one person. In which case if Kit called out to let Hillie know that help was on its way, they’d be alerted as well and all could be lost. Kit simply couldn’t take that chance.
Kit closed his eyes, forcing his brain to function rationally.
Get the police. Though it ripped him apart, it was the best thing he could do.
Kit ran as if he had wings on his heels.
*
‘What the bleeding hell was you doing, Hill?’ Jimmy demanded when all fell silent. ‘I warned you Jackson ain’t the sort of man to mess with.’
‘In that case, you shouldn’t have got mixed up with him in the first place,’ Hillie retorted into the darkness.
‘Yeah, well, I didn’t know what he was like then, did I?’
His voice was sharp and Hillie drew in an exasperated breath. ‘Well, I was only trying to get you out of it. I sent Gert off to warn the police.’
‘Oh, yeah? And now no one knows we’re here. A proper mess you’ve got us into. You should’ve left things alone, like what I said.’
‘Maybe I should, and I’m sorry for that, Jimmy. But that’s not going to help. We need to think. And what the blazes was Dolly Maguire doing there?’
‘What, that woman? Is that her? I had no idea. Jackson said he was bringing in another lookout, so must’ve been her. I didn’t know, Hill, honest.’
Hillie let out a weighty sigh. Thank God they were arguing. It gave her mind something to focus on other than the terror that drummed in her chest. It would be so easy just to sit, quaking, on the floor where they’d been pushed, and await their fate. But Hillie had faced fear so many times before. The answer to Harold’s violence had always been to fight back. And she wasn’t going to change now.
Her eyes were adjusting to the faint strip of light coming in under the door. In that split second before the thug had replaced the sack over her head, she’d recognised where they were. And, as if to confirm it, what was obviously a long freight train rumbled past overhead. The railway arches.
‘So, this is Jackson’s lock-up, is it?’
‘One of several,’ Jimmy murmured in reply.
‘And what was going on tonight? A robbery?’
‘Yeah. Oh, Hill, we know too much. Jackson… he won’t let us go. You realise that.’
A tiny strangled sound gurgled in Hillie’s throat as abject terror shot through her. But though her nerves were stretched to breaking point, she wasn’t giving in. ‘Yes, that’s what he meant, wasn’t it?’ she gulped. ‘So we’ve got to find a way out of here.’
‘Oh, yeah? With our hands tied behind our backs?’
‘Hmm. Let me think. Come over to the door. There’s a bit of light underneath. I’ll kneel down and try and get my hands in it, and you see if there’s any way you could get me free.’
‘Huh,’ Jimmy scoffed. But he did as Hillie instructed anyway. ‘Move a bit further back into the light,’ he directed her. ‘That’s it. Hmm, no. Them knots look really tight. But you have a look at mine.’
They both twisted round so that Hillie could peer at the rope that bound Jimmy’s wrists. The knots were pulled tight, but maybe…
‘Keep still,’ she ordered, bending so that her mouth was on a level with his hands.
‘Why? What you gonna do?’
‘Work at it. With my teeth.’
‘What?’
‘Shut up and let me get on,’ she snapped.
The rope was horrible in her mouth, dry and hairy, and she kept stopping to spit out the tiny fibres. Nothing seemed to be happening, but she had to keep trying to distract her mind from its terror. Her knees hurt from kneeling on the bare concrete, and her neck and shoulders screamed in protest at bending and twisting to get at Jimmy’s wrists. Every now and then, she changed position, lying down on her side, but the floor was so hard and cold, and it made her neck ache even worse.
‘This is bloody hopeless,’ Jimmy moaned after what seemed hours.
‘You got any better ideas?’
‘No. But they could be back soon. It wasn’t gonna be a long job. But whatever happens, Hill, you must understand I did it all for you. I love you so much, and just wanted to make you happy.’
Hillie was about to accuse him of going about it in the wrong way, but she managed to restrain herself. It hardly mattered now. If what Jimmy had implied was… Dear God, she must redouble her efforts. Take the rope between her teeth. Ease it. Little. By little. Now the other loop of the knot.
‘Jesus, Hill—’
‘I’m not giving up. You look around. See if you can make out anything useful.’
‘Huh, it’s so bleeding dark. Oh, Hill—’
She turned rigid. ‘Wait. Wait a minute…’ She went back, got a purchase on the rope. Pulled. Less resistance. It… Glory, it was coming. Back to the other loop. Back again. Looser every time. Until… One final long pull. And it came.
‘Jimmy, I think I’ve done it,’ she whispered, hardly daring to believe it. ‘Try wriggling your hands. Gently. That’s it. OK. No, hang on. Let me give it one more tug. There, now pull!’
He did. And miraculously, he was able to squeeze his hands through the loosened rope. Their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and they stared at each other in reckless hope.
‘Right, now you,’ Jimmy breathed, turning her round.
But then the sound of an engine. A closing van door. Heavy footsteps.
Jimmy’s brain finally snapped into action. ‘You sit back down where they left us,’ he hissed. ‘I can see a crowbar over there. I’ll hide behind here with it and clonk them one from behind.’
Hillie didn’t answer but scurried to the back of the lock-up where they’d been pushed. She crouched down, her stomach in an iron vice, praying the men wouldn’t realise in the dark that Jimmy wasn’t behind her. What if there were too many of them? Could Jimmy possibly fell them all? Would all her efforts be in vain?
She kept still, not daring to move. Hardly daring to breathe even, as the door was unlocked. In came just one man, pushing the door to behind him but not locking it. Could they escape through it, or would they be… be… Just one man, but the mountain of a man who’d punched Jimmy in the stomach earlier. The one Jackson had ordered to… to… And he was angry. Dear God, he was angry, hurling boxes and cartons aside as he aimed towards his captives.
Hillie gulped, staring up at him. But she must hold her nerve. She wanted to escape her hiding place. Run, even though she’d have no chance of getting past the raging giant. She must stay put until he was close enough for Jimmy to spring out behind him and axe him with the crowbar. And then they could run…
Flash of movement. Hillie snatched in her breath. The thug spun round, caught the crowbar in hands of steel as Jimmy swung it with all his might. But it was wrenched from Jimmy’s grip. Horror on Jimmy’s face. Stepped back as the monster flicked something from his pocket. Glint of metal. Thrust.
Jimmy was lifted from his feet, bent over. Eyes huge. Choking. A gurgling, sucking sound, as he was thrown in the air again and then crashed to the floor. Wheezing. Squelching.
Oh, dear God, Jimmy!
The heavy turned to Hillie.
She froze.
Couldn’t move.
Shut her eyes. Didn’t want to see it coming. Ho
ped it’d be quick. Held her breath and waited.
Through her closed eyelids, she was aware of the lock-up flooding with flashing lights. Men’s shouts, footfall.
Her eyes instinctively opened. Saw the ogre lurch, crumple, topple on the floor in front of her. Behind him, Kit tossed the crowbar aside. At once, he was on his knees beside her, holding her fragile, trembling body. Pouring his strength into her.
‘Jimmy!’ she heard a voice scream. Someone else, in a crazed nightmare, pulled away from Kit, crawled to the body on the floor. There was something warm and wet and sticky. Everywhere.
‘Hill.’ A tiny, grating rasp scraped from Jimmy’s throat. ‘Love… you.’
She felt someone – was it Kit, one of the other men? Were they policemen? – do something with the ties about her wrists. Her hands came free. She wasn’t sure how.
‘Jimmy, my love, I’m so sorry,’ she somehow croaked. ‘This is all my fault.’
‘Nah. N-not, my girl.’ Dark liquid running from his mouth now. Hissing, bubbling in his lungs. ‘M-my… jacket. J-jacket.’
His hand limply grasped Hillie’s coat lapel. She forced a smile. Through tear-blurred vision. It would be all right, she wanted to tell him. Took his bloodied hand. Kissed it.
Saw him shut his eyes. Smile. His face slackened. Body went limp.
Something took a stranglehold on Hillie’s throat, and the shadows closed in.
*
‘I told you nothing good would ever come of your association with this riff-raff,’ Charles Braithwaite growled as they all sat round in the interview room at the police station.
‘For heaven’s sake, man, have some pity,’ Kit retorted, glancing anxiously over at Hillie who was shaking like a leaf in Gert’s arms.
‘That’s right, Mr Braithwaite,’ Inspector Chamings agreed as he came into the room. ‘This poor young woman has just lost her—’
‘And she got my daughter mixed up in it as well!’
‘No, Mr Braithwaite.’ The inspector’s voice was firm. ‘I was just coming to tell you all what’s happened so that you can go home. I can assure you it was the phone call from your night-watchman that alerted us to the robbery itself, no one else. We’d barely had the chance to talk to Miss Parker properly. She hadn’t even made a statement before we received the phone call, so there’s no official record that either she or your daughter were ever here. It might’ve prompted the general alert, but we often get anonymous tip-offs. Sergeant Hoskins and I are agreed that was what we had, if you understand my meaning. So there’s nothing at all to connect Miss Parker or your daughter with the case. Jackson and his gang were caught red-handed at the store. And now we’ll have evidence, maybe confessions, that’ll lead to other crimes, including an earlier robbery where a guard was shot and wounded. They’ll all be put away for years. Jackson’s heavy, let’s call him, will hang. And I reckon there’s a good chance Jackson will, too. But all any of them will ever know is that we got the call from your night-watchman. Who’s come round from the blow to his head, thank you for asking. As for Mrs Baxter, she was merely concerned for her husband and followed him. She had nothing to do with the gang being caught either. It was just lucky coincidence that Mr Parker saw something suspicious on his way home from work. Otherwise things might’ve been even worse. So you see, Mr Braithwaite, your daughter wasn’t involved in any way, and nobody has anything to worry about. I will need to interview you again, Mrs Baxter, but not until you feel up to it. Can she possibly go home with you tonight, Miss Parker?’