by John Creasey
Chatsworth showed his feelings with an explosive: ‘For all we know they might be dead. Hasn’t anyone got a worthwhile idea?’ He glared about him, then shrugged. ‘Well, we’ll have to get going. Nothing else to do. But we start off worse than we were before, and—’
‘Just a moment,’ said Roger.
Chatsworth paused, and the others stared at Roger, who was frowning as he contemplated his Chief. An idea, no more than the germ so far, had entered his mind. Expert in the laying of false trails, Riordon had maintained that practice throughout. His method had been one gigantic bluff. Was there any reason to suppose that he had changed in the last few minutes of his life?
‘Well, what is it?’ demanded Chatsworth.
Roger said slowly: ‘Is there any news about that bus driver?’
‘Bus driver!’ snorted Chatsworth. ‘Now what’s getting into you, West?’
‘The bus driver,’ repeated Roger firmly. ‘Who gave him that trunk?’
‘The proprietor here,’ answered Chatsworth. ‘That was why Riordon had the fellow killed. He was killed, no question of that of course. But if you’ll be good enough, West, to give me an idea of what you are driving at, I shall be grateful.’
Roger said: ‘The bus driver was an innocent victim?’
‘Well?’
‘Amy Groves, Allen and Banks were thought to be innocent victims,’ continued Roger very softly. ‘Riordon told us that they worked for him, but that he killed them when their job was finished. It could be a part of the bluff. Riordon really went overboard on the matter of that map. Someone had betrayed him, he said, by losing or giving away a map. That map, and copies of it, were needed by his colleagues due to come here for the first time. It gave nothing away unless one had the key, when it gave everything away. And Riordon thought someone had stolen a copy. He was right – Richardson had. But that doesn’t matter. The fact that these men who worked with him are still alive, does matter.’
Chatsworth urged: ‘Well, go on, West.’
‘There is no hurry,’ said Roger. ‘They will be waiting for us when we get to London. Riordon once tried to make out that the clerks were his agents, but supposing those clerks were innocent victims like the bus driver? And for the same reason: they could name his associates. Supposing Riordon knew that their story could betray the men he wanted to protect and to distract our attention from: the men he did go to visit.’ Roger paused, and then added: ‘I mean, Commander Morris, Sir William Bennett and Mr Michison. Well, sir?’
‘Not a bad idea,’ conceded Chatsworth, after a long pause. ‘Not a bad idea at all. But why are we sitting here doing nothing?’
Before they left Woodhill Chatsworth telephoned the Yard to give instructions for the three men to be shadowed even more closely. And on Roger’s suggestion a telephone call was to be sent to them, telling them to go to Michison’s flat at eleven o’clock the next morning. Chatsworth told Roger on the way to London, in the early hours of the morning, that the three had behaved normally enough since Roger had interviewed them.
Cartwright had returned to Dorchester. Marion was staying in a Newbury hotel because she thought Mark would like to feel that someone was showing interest in him. Woodhill was still in the hands of the police, while from Newbury telegrams were despatched to numerous anxious relatives.
It was odd, Roger thought, as he sat next to Chatsworth, with Pep Morgan in the back of the AC’s large limousine, that he had seen little of the women who had played so large a part in Riordon’s great bluff. But he had discovered that they were, without exception, addicted to drugs. Some more than others, it had been found, and most of them stayed at Woodhill, believing that while there they had a chance of recovery. Riordon had even gone so far as to employ a qualified doctor, who had ‘treated’ them.
Later, Roger was to discover much more of the precautions which Riordon had taken, to learn that the two or three women who had been released had been subjected to a course of ‘horror treatment’ which, added to the drugs, had reduced them to a state of physical and mental prostration. Amongst other discoveries in the village of Woodhill were many reels of Korean war horror films, many of them far worse than Roger had imagined to be in existence. The effect of them on the highly strung, drug-stimulated victims had been great; there were times when he considered the ruthlessness of Riordon with a sense of dread that left him in a cold sweat. The influence of Riordon did not leave him for a long time afterwards; there were times when he dreamed of the man, and woke up in a frenzy.
Through that trying period Janet had sustained him more than anyone else.
He had little knowledge of these things, and no idea how it would work out, as he sat next to Chatsworth and sped towards London through the darkness. Two police cars followed. The body of Riordon would be brought back by ambulance. The Newbury police, with some Yard men, were going through the village systematically, and doctors and nurses had been summoned from Newbury to help Riordon’s women victims.
Roger thought little about that: he was thinking most of Michison and trying to work the thing out. If he were right the explosive radiogram had been just another incident in a chain of many to confuse him. He had wondered all along why that comparatively innocuous infernal machine had been used. Moreover if Michison were involved then Riordon’s use of his flat was explained.
He thought far less of the blustering Bennett and the dapper Morris: Michison had impressed himself on his mind more than either of the others. There was ‘Fluff’, too.
At times during that journey he told himself that the idea had been no more than a wild guess, that it was hopelessly wide of the mark. Yet it persisted, and on the way he made all the necessary arrangements.
From the Yard, reached as dawn broke, he went first to Fulham. He found that his cabin trunk was missing, of course, and discovered that the police guard had been taken off after Mark had left for Hinton Magna; a burglary had been reported the next day.
Certainly Riordon had done nothing by halves.
Then Roger went to Michison’s flat.
The area was cordoned off by police and there was no way in which Michison and his wife could get away. If they tried to, it would mean that they had succeeded in getting past him and that would not be too good for him. He went alone, straight from Fulham, because of the possibility that he was being followed. He wanted to create the impression that it was a friendly call.
It was gloomy inside the house, and the stairs creaked as he went up. He had a momentary feeling of alarm lest the tenants had gone, but when he knocked on the door there was a sound of movement inside and a moment later Fluff opened the door.
She stared at him for a moment, and then widened her eyes.
‘Why, hallo, policeman,’ she said, and stood aside for him to enter.
‘Hallo, Mrs Michison,’ said Roger cheerfully. ‘Is your husband in?’
‘He’s getting ready to go to the office,’ declared Fluff, ‘and I’m just making some coffee. Will you have a cup?’
‘I’d like one very much,’ said Roger.
The lounge was not being used, but some easy chairs had been taken into the dining room, where he was left for a few minutes smoking a cigarette. Then Michison came in, straightening his tie; there was a slight cut on his chin, from shaving. His smile was ready and infectious, and a wave of depression attacked Roger.
He forced it back, however, and said easily: ‘I thought you’d like to know that your worries are over.’
‘Worries?’ Michison raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know that I had any. Oh, of course – police suspicion! And the attentions of Count Riordon, too. Don’t tell me you’ve caught the ungallant Count?’
Was there a touch of overeagerness in the question?
Fluff brought in coffee.
‘Caught whom?’ she asked as she poured it out.
‘The great
Count Riordon,’ said Michison. ‘How’s the poor chap that was hurt – I’ve forgotten his name. One of your sergeants, wasn’t he?’
‘He’s on the mend,’ said Roger, ‘but he hasn’t been able to make a report yet. However, with Riordon in the bag there’s no need to worry.’ He looked very content as he sat back in an easy chair and sipped his coffee, trying to judge the moment to spring his bombshell. If they were implicated, he would know when he sprung the trap: if they weren’t he would look many kinds of a fool. Metaphorically he shrugged his shoulders.
‘He was a nasty customer, wasn’t he?’ said Michison. ‘What was his particular game? Or shouldn’t I inquire?’ He looked ingenuously into Roger’s eyes.
‘There’s no harm in inquiring,’ said Roger. ‘But why take the trouble? He talked. He thought he could hold out, but he couldn’t. Bennett and Morris are under arrest, and—’
The reaction came swiftly. One moment Michison had been lounging back nonchalantly. The next his hand dropped to his pocket; the trap had been sprung. The woman flung her coffee at Roger’s face. It missed, although some splashed him. Roger slid down into his chair and kicked upwards at Michison’s hand, in which a gun appeared. The gun was pushed upwards although he kept his grip on it. His face had hardened, his wife’s was hard with desperation. Neither of them spoke, and Fluff flung another cup at Roger: hot liquid spilled over his forehead but did not stop him from taking a familiar tube of tear gas from his breast pocket. As he tossed it towards the others, and ducked again, he heard a sound at the door. Michison staggered back, and Fluff turned towards the door.
‘What—’ a man said in alarm.
As the gas began to take effect again, Roger saw and recognised dapper Commander Morris, and knew that the telephone trick had worked. Bennett would soon be here, and Yard men would follow them both. Whatever happened to him the case was over. As the others staggered about with tears streaming from their eyes he backed to a corner of the room. Morris stood on the threshold, then turned abruptly. He cannoned into Bennett, who was on the threshold, and, through a haze, Roger saw the Yard men crowding the landing behind Morris.
Then he let discretion be the better part of valour and ducked behind one of the easy chairs.
Bennett and Morris walked straight into the trap, and the Michison’s reaction had been so prompt that Roger knew the strain at which they had been living. He knew little about what followed at the flat except that the Yard men had gas masks; actually the struggle had been short-lived.
He was not surprised that Bennett was the first to break down and to give the news for which all of them had been waiting: the missing men were alive. Roger felt very rueful about the place where they were imprisoned: they were in the cellar of the house which Michison owned, and where he had occupied the top floor flat. They had not been ill-treated, but had been told that they would not leave the cellar alive unless they put the results of their investigations on paper. But no great efforts had been made to persuade them, Roger discovered: Riordon and the others had waited for the passing of the storm, dealing with the first danger first.
Later in the day, in Chatsworth’s office, the AC said: ‘It certainly wasn’t a bad idea, West. Mind you, we wouldn’t have left them alone, but they might have done a great deal more harm before we caught them. The credit’s yours.’ Chatsworth was at his most amiable. ‘We all have to have a slice or two of luck sometimes, don’t we?’
‘Luck?’ asked Roger.
‘Now, come, it was just a chance thought,’ said Chatsworth. ‘Own up.’
Roger put his head on one side. ‘I was lucky that I was hauled out of the river, I was lucky at The Trout and the Fly, and it was touch and go whether I came out of the Michisons’ flat alive. But be fair, sir! I followed Riordon’s methods of fighting us, and they could only lead to Michison and company.’ He paused for a moment, then added slyly: ‘I can’t understand why no one else thought of it.’
‘That’s enough from you,’ said Chatsworth, and chuckled. ‘I won’t deny it, though, it was there for all of us to see. Seriously, what do you consider the turning point in the affair? My hoodwinking you and letting you take the first fire?’
‘That, yes,’ said Roger ruefully. ‘And little Richardson, of course. It was queer, sir, that dwarf should have no social conscience at all but be so intensely patriotic.’ He paused as Chatsworth nodded and then added: ‘Is there anything else?’
‘No, not now,’ said Chatsworth. ‘The Concerto problem was easy, after all. Records, the dwarf – who so often gave warning – and the BBC artiste, as another red herring. All the same, it did give an uncanny touch. Well, I’d like a full report as soon as you can prepare it but there’s no real hurry. We’ve got our men, both ours and Riordon’s. And the pressure from above is no longer worrying. Thanks, West.’
Roger smiled, and said ‘thank you’, and then walked from Westminster to Fulham. From Bell Street he telephoned Janet, and was implored to have a word with Paula, who wanted to know how Mark and Marion were.
‘Mark’s in a pretty helpless state in hospital,’ said Roger. ‘Marion ought to find it easy.’
‘You pig!’ exclaimed Paula, and he heard her add: ‘Isn’t he, Jan? Oh, of course, you wouldn’t think so.’ She said goodbye, laughingly. Then Janet came to the phone again to say that she would catch an early train in the morning, but would he try to get a few pieces of fish for Quiz. And: ‘Go to bed early, darling, you must get plenty of sleep.’
‘Not a bad idea,’ said Roger. ‘Tomorrow then, my sweet.’
And he rang off.
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
'The Baron' (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
'Department 'Z'' (28 titles)
'Dr. Palfrey Novels' (34 titles)
'Gideon of Scotland Yard' (22 titles)
'Inspector West' (43 titles)
'Sexton Blake' (5 titles)
'The Toff' (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey's account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel's Act in 1829.
'The Baron' Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
The Baron and the Beggar (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
If Anything Happens to Hester (Black for the Baron) (1959)
Salute for the Baron (1960)
The Baron Branches Out (A Branch for the Baron) (1961)
The Baron and the Stolen Legacy (Bad for the Baron) (1962)
A Sword for the Baron (The Baron and the Mogul Swords) (1963)
The Baron on Board (1964)
The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle (1964)
Sport for the Baron (1966)
Affair for the Baron (1967)
The Baron and the Missing Old Masters (1968)
The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait (1969)
Last Laugh for the Baron (1970)
The Baron Goes A-Buying (1971)
The Baron and the Arrogant Artist (1972)
Burgle the Baron (1973)
The Baron - King Maker (1975)
Love for the Baron (1979)
'Department Z' Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
The Death Miser (1932)
Redhead (1934)
First Came a Murder (1934)
Death Round the Corner (1935)
The Mark of the Crescent (1935)
Thunder in Europe (1936)
The Terror Trap (1936)
Carriers of Death (1937)
Days of Danger (1937)
Death Stands By (1938)
Menace! (1938)
Murder Must Wait (1939)
Panic! (1939)
Death by Night (1940)
The Island of Peril (1940)
Sabotage (1941)
Go Away Death (1941)
The Day of Disaster (1942)
Prepare for Action (1942)
No Darker Crime (1943)
Dark Peril (1944)