by Jack Murray
Mary looked, once again at Caroline. The dislike in Caroline’s face was evident. Mary fought hard to control tears forming in her eyes. She felt angry at herself. It was clear to her that Caroline was not a criminal, but her actions were highly suspicious. She hoped Kit had an answer to the many questions swirling around in her head.
‘At this point, the finger was clearly pointing at Caroline. As the daughter of a notorious thief,’ said Kit, turning to Raven Hadleigh, who merely bowed slightly, ‘she would have had ample opportunity to learn the tricks of the trade from the master. And then there was the calling card left at the scene of each crime. It’s entirely conceivable that Caroline could have kept a secret stash of these. And, finally, there’s no reason why a woman such as Caroline could not, with all she has possibly learned, commit these crimes.’
Mary was oddly torn by this comment. She agreed wholeheartedly that there was no reason a woman could not be a master thief. She just hoped it wasn’t this one.
‘Yes, there’s no reason at all. Except Caroline Hadleigh was not the thief,’ said Kit.
Everyone looked at Caroline. Her emotions were beginning to get the better of her. Ryan looked down and held her tightly.
‘No,’ continued Kit, ‘the Phantom in this case is, was, and always will be, Raven Hadleigh.’
Chapter 30
Alfred sat outside the prison in Kit’s Rolls. It had been twenty minutes now and he was bored; worse, he was hungry. He cursed the curse that had given him such an enjoyment of food, such a craving for the wicked comfort provided by some bacon and oven-fresh bread. He could feel the saliva forming in his mouth as this delightful picture formed in his mind. With the mental image came an almost visceral sense of the exquisite aroma of the bread and the salt-sharp smell of the bacon.
He hoped they would get a move on inside. His curiosity about what was happening matched the growing hunger pains forming in his stomach. Lord Aston had, sadly, not been very forthcoming on what was on his mind during the journey. Alfred had consoled himself by stealing as many looks as he could at the gorgeous Lady Mary. Even with darker hair, she was still something, but he had preferred her with the blonde wig.
The arrival of the other young woman was a pleasant surprise. She was blonde and almost as beautiful as Lady Mary. The thought of the two young women made Alfred feel warm inside on what was, otherwise a rather chilly day. Some men have all the luck, he thought. He didn’t begrudge Kit his good fortune. As nobles went, he seemed a good sort. And he’d done his bit, to be fair. Still, though, what must it feel like to have such a beautiful woman in your arms? To have her look into your eyes, lovingly. To do as you commanded, willingly.
As he thought about such unlikely scenarios, he noticed the door open of the main building. A man came running out.
He was heading directly towards Alfred and the car.
-
Young Ben Ryan was asthmatic. He had been born with a condition that narrowed his airways and produced, on occasion, prodigious quantities of mucus. All too often it made breathing difficult, triggered coughing fits that ripped through his body like a hurricane, followed by wheezing and shortness of breath.
This morning he was treating Rusk and Johnny Mac to the full array of his complaints, topped off by a roar of protest that emanated from somewhere in the region of his feet, such was its volume, pitch, and ferocity. Within half an hour of his waking, it was almost possible to feel sorry for the two kidnappers as they struggled to quieten the hell-child.
The latest outpouring of green, gloopy, mucus from young Ben’s nose which, by now, seemed more like a tap to Rusk than an organ of the olfactory system, ran like a rivulet over the bridge of the toddler’s mouth, onto his lips.
‘Bloody hell, how can one child have so much snot?’ yelled Rusk. This provoked yet more wailing from the disgruntled child. Rusk was sorely tempted to join the ghastly little child’s snivelling such was his misery.
‘Haven’t you a handkerchief for that bloody child?’ snarled Johnny Mac.
‘I did. I threw it away. You’ll never clean that again.’ He glanced dejectedly at the sodden green handkerchief lying on the ground. It had been a Christmas present from his mother a few years ago. He still missed her.
‘Well use your bloody sleeve, then.’
‘Why don’t you use your bloody sleeve?’ shouted Rusk in response. The situation had veered shockingly out of control. Rusk’s mood was, to say the least, frazzled by a lack of sleep, a sense of injustice at the demise of his mum’s gift and an increasing scepticism on the wisdom of their unilateral decision to go it alone and kidnap Satan’s spawn.
Rusk was not a deep thinker. He accepted that when God had been handing out brains, he’d been in the wrong queue. This was not a problem for Rusk. He had gifts if violence and intimidation can be considered thus. He deployed them on behalf of those more cerebrally endowed than he. The arrangement suited both sides. However, even he could see that going against Charles ‘Wag’ McDonald was potentially rife with risk.
Once Wag learned that the girl was ‘off limits’ then he would call everything off. Wag was not a man to take unnecessary risks with the police, even if he did employ more than a few of them. He was certainly not a man to license the kidnapping of children.
This was against the rules.
He was an odd man, thought Rusk, but, on balance, not one you wanted to be on the wrong side of. Right now, he and Johnny Mac were so far on the wrong side of Wag they were virtually in a different country, which is where they would need to abscond to whichever way things went. The thought of this made Rusk feel even more miserable. And then young Ben Ryan applied the coup de grace as Rusk wiped his nose with his sleeve: he sneezed messily.
-
Raven Hadleigh looked at Kit and smiled slowly. He seemed neither angry nor surprised by Kit’s announcement.
‘Interesting theory, Lord Aston,’ replied Hadleigh, gesturing to his surroundings. ‘Perhaps you’re unaware of my present situation. This is after all, notwithstanding the obvious home comforts, a prison cell.’
‘Yes,’ replied Kit also with a smile, ‘I had rather noticed.’
‘Then are you seriously proposing that I escape from the prison of an evening, make my way to a rich man’s home and help myself to some diamond necklaces they’ve left carelessly hanging around before breaking back into this establishment and continuing with my incarceration?’
‘I don’t think it’s quite like that,’ responded Kit. ‘Clearly you had some help.’
‘Really? From whom? Hastings here?’
‘Well, yes. Hastings and Brickhill, in fact. The truth is, you walk out of here of an evening, not break out as you say, and one of these men will drive you to the target location where Caroline, simply, lets you in through the front door.’
Kit looked at Hastings and Brickhill who both had turned puce. Hastings was clearly on the point of exploding when Kit calmly held his hand up.
‘The thing that bothered me from the start wasn’t the how, it was the why. Why would you return? What was the point of all of this? And then I received part of the answer this morning from my friend and your colleague Spunky Stevens. Did you send him along to me?’
Geddes smiled and said nothing. Kit read that to mean ‘yes’.
‘Once I realised that it was the…’
‘Foreign Office,’ interjected Geddes again with a smile.
‘Foreign Office,’ agreed Kit, ‘then it all made sense, although a few more pieces, as I say, were filled in by your arrival with Miss Hadleigh. I won’t inquire about why you’ve targeted these individuals for theft, but I am rather interested. For another time perhaps. But I suspect the diamonds, in each case, are a cover for an ulterior motive. I’m sure you couldn’t possibly say, Geddes.’
‘Correct,’ replied Geddes.
Hadleigh looked at Kit. The smile had never really left his face. But with the smile Kit could also see a sadness in the eyes. There was something else he wanted Ki
t to say. Kit nodded to Hadleigh and, for a moment, it seemed the room was empty except for the two men.
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ asked Kit.
Hadleigh nodded but he was no longer smiling. In fact, far from smiling, his face revealed a deeper sadness.
Kit turned to face the rest of the room. He stood up from the table and walked over to Hadleigh’s bookcase. He lifted a volume from the shelf. It was Thomas Mann’s Buddenbrooks, in German.
‘When I was last here, I had a feeling we’d met before, but I couldn’t quite place where or when. Then I remembered seeing all those books in German in your library. You were there weren’t you? During the War. You were working for the,’ Kit paused for a moment before saying, ‘Foreign Office. I can remember now. You were with my contact when I was given the false papers that inducted me into the German army. You looked a bit different then, of course, the beard, the glasses. Simple enough disguise but it certainly changed your appearance.’
Hadleigh said nothing but there was a sadness in his eyes. He’d met so many young men doing what Kit had done. So many brave young men. He could cry thinking of them. Sometimes, alone in the cell, he did.
‘I can only guess at this point, but you either offered your services to the country or they came to you. I suspect the former. In return for using your exceptional talents, Raven, they offered you an amnesty of sorts. I suspect your incarceration will be over soon. I think that just about covers it except for the last, and I suppose, most important item on the agenda.’
‘You want the diamonds back.’ This was Hadleigh. It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes, I think they’ve probably served their purpose now. The Chief Inspector, young Ryan and Mr Bulstrode can receive deserved acclaim for wrapping some of the case up and Miss Hadleigh can return to a normal life without any stain on her character.’
The room seemed to turn, as one, to Raven Hadleigh. The smile returned to his face and he walked over to a small cigar box, sitting on his desk. Opening the box, he extracted from it three small diamond necklaces.
‘You’ll be wanting these. You know it was always my intention to return them,’ explained Hadleigh.
‘Damn right, Raven,’ said Geddes which brought a ripple of laughter from Kit, Jellicoe, and Mary.
Hadleigh walked over to Jellicoe and was about to hand him the necklaces when Ryan stepped forward and took them. In the shocked silence, Ryan stepped back. He was holding a gun.
‘I’m sorry, but I need to take these. Mr Geddes, can you me give your car keys? Major Hastings, I’d like the keys to this cell also. Now, if you please.’
Moments later Ryan walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. The guard at the outer door greeted him as he walked through.
‘I think Major Hastings would like some tea brought down to the cell. Can you organise it please?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said the guard.
Chapter 30
Sally Ryan was living the worst of nightmares. She could barely breathe, she couldn’t stop crying and now, she was shaking with fear. Her world was crashing around her. Nothing Joe Ryan could say was of consolation. Curled up on the family sofa, she was wracked her sobs. Joe Ryan felt like he was dying. Their little boy. Gone. He wanted to run out into the street and kick in every door from here to the Elephant and Castle. The rage, the frustration and the fear mixed and washed around his body before crashing like waves against a cliff.
All he could do was try to console the inconsolable. And wait. And hope. It was up to Ben now. He knew what he was asking of Ben would end his career and put his freedom in jeopardy. Equally, he knew Ben wouldn’t think twice. He didn’t blame Ben for what had happened. How could he? Ben had given so much to them over the last year. Without him, well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Little Ben wouldn’t have made it this far without the drugs that Ben’s money had purchased.
He wasn’t sure if Sally would feel the same. This had been such a shock to her. The idea that they had taken Ben because they couldn’t take Caroline would eventually rise to the surface. How this would affect her in the future would be an issue whatever happened. All he could do now was wait for Ben to come.
Around mid-morning there was a knock on the door. Then a banging.
‘Joe, open up.’
Ryan went to the door and opened it; he couldn’t believe what he saw.
-
Alfred recognised the man running towards the car, as the young detective from the other night. He climbed out of the car as it was clear, he was running towards the Rolls. When he reached Alfred, the detective spoke.
‘Quick, Lord Aston wants us to deliver a message. I’ll show you where. Quickly. We can’t wait a second longer.’
Recognising the urgency, crying at the thought of yet more time without eating, Alfred climbed back into the car and started the engine. Within a few seconds the car sped off towards the gates.
‘What’s happening, sir?’ asked Alfred.
‘We have to deliver a package to someone near Elephant and Castle.’
With that the detective sat back and stared out the window leaving Alfred in an unappealing state of hunger and curiosity.
-
‘I’m off,’ announced Johnny Mac at last.
‘What?’ expostulated Rusk. ‘What do you mean you’re off? You mean I must stay with this snot machine? Why don’t you stay, and I go?’
‘Division of labour. You should read Marx.’
‘Mark who?’
Johnny Mac shook his head and stood up. He smiled that terrible smile and said, ‘Some are born to lead, others to follow. Wipe his bloody nose. I’m sick to death of looking at that stuff. I want to see if there is any sign of lover boy.’
With this advice hanging in the air like an unwelcome farm smell, Johnny Mac stalked out of the room, scattering a few pigeons who were feeding on, what looked like, a dead rat.
Johnny Mac descended several flights of stairs. The sound of the machines grew louder as he neared the factory floor. He went through a door which led to a corridor and his office and picked up the phone. A moment later he asked the operator to put him through to a number. At last, someone picked it up.
‘Any sign?’ The man on the other end of the line answered. Then Johnny Mac said resignedly, ‘Fine. I’ll call every half hour.’
He put the phone down and let out a few oaths. He was on edge, that was for sure. This was not something he wanted Rusk to see. The man was already in a big enough funk as it was. The next few hours were going to go slowly. But then, life would become so much easier. He’d escape out of London for a while. Maybe go to the continent. Better yet, America. Start over. Start over as a rich man.
This was the plan, anyway.
-
Kit looked at Jellicoe. The Chief Inspector’s face was impassive: neither shock nor dismay. Interesting, thought Kit. Also, for another time, perhaps. Bulstrode had exploded with anger and gone straight to the door followed by Brickhill. Both were banging the door for all they were worth.
Kit looked at Hastings.
‘Have you a spare set of keys on you?’
‘No,’ admitted Hastings. ‘I hadn’t considered the possibility that we would be incarcerated by a member of the police.’
‘Nor I,’ replied Kit. He then turned to Raven Hadleigh. “I don’t suppose we can call upon your talents.’
Hadleigh was clearly angry. The events had been as unwelcome as they were unexpected. It was obvious Hadleigh knew, and even approved of, the romance between his daughter and the young policeman. One look at the numbed astonishment on her face was enough for Hadleigh. He wanted to get hold of Ryan. Preferably by the neck.
He went over to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling from it a small pouch. He extracted what looked like thin metal files. He marched over to the door.
‘Out of the way,’ ordered the prisoner to the policeman and the guard. He knelt and began to pick the lock. It took eleven seconds.
‘I’m slowi
ng down,’ muttered Hadleigh. ‘Come on.’
Kit looked at Mary. She raised her eyebrows and had a half smile. She walked over to Caroline to console her. Meanwhile Kit headed quickly towards the door alongside Geddes and Hastings. They all ran into the poor guard carrying a tray of tea.
‘What in the blazes are you doing?’ shouted Brickhill.
‘The detective told me to bring in some tea.’
‘Blimey,’ said Bulstrode, wiping milk off his suit.
The group made their way upstairs to the office of Hastings. Jellicoe turned to the, clearly disgruntled and wet Bulstrode and said, ‘Will your man be at the Yard now?’
‘Yes,’ replied Bulstrode sourly.
Jellicoe dialled a number and waited a moment and asked to be put through to a number at Scotland Yard.
While they waited Kit looked at Jellicoe and said, ‘Do you know why he took the diamonds?’
Jellicoe returned Kit’s gaze. Everyone who had been in the cell downstairs was now in the office. All eyes were on Jellicoe. Finally, the Chief Inspector said one word before finally being put through.
‘Yes.’
-
The estimable sergeant Wellbeloved made it into Scotland Yard mid-morning. It had been a late night. A very late night, in fact. A few hours of sleep and back to the office. He trooped in wearily. One policeman smiled at the unshaven, bleary-eyed sergeant and said, ‘Good afternoon, sarge.’
Wellbeloved’s two, single syllable word reply was lost in the noise of the reception area of the office. He wanted to be back in his bed. Soon. Blindly he made his way up to the office, ignoring one cheery ‘hullo’ after another. His only words were to a secretary in an outer office.
‘I want a tea.’
Theresa Malloy, a Dubliner recently arrived in London, looked up at the half-dead policeman. Like Wellbeloved, she also had experienced a late night. Unlike Wellbeloved, it involved a significantly greater intake of alcohol than the teetotal detective had probably imbibed over his two score years. Consequently, she was in a bit of a mood. An already short fuse was considerably shorter on this particular morning.