by John Hanley
Another good point. ‘I don’t know. Take them back to Jersey, hand the crew over to the authorities. Anything to stop the diamonds getting to the Germans.’
‘Think, Jack. What would happen if we turned up in Jersey with millions of pounds worth of diamonds and that bunch of crazies?’ Saul asked.
‘I hope we’d be thanked, might even get a reward.’
‘Kwas. This is the real world. We’d be helping the police with their enquiries for months. Caroline’s father and his friends would be pulling all the strings to get their goods back and we’d be little piggies in the middle. Our only way out of this is to make sure we aren’t caught with the diamonds.’
Rachel said, ‘I told you before, Jack. I’ve got Hélène’s number. If you can get me to a French port, I’ll let her know what’s happened. I think we can rely on her to rescue the diamonds and make sure the Germans don’t get them.’ Rachel sounded convinced of her own plan. It might even work. There was only one major flaw.
‘If she gets the diamonds, they’ll end up with the Russians. Do we want that?’ I asked.
Caroline answered. ‘I don’t think we have a choice. Saul’s right. My father has powerful friends. We take them back and he’ll find a way of getting his thieving hands on them again. I don’t know who this Hélène is but if she’s a Communist, that’s fine. They’ll make better use of them than my father.’
Caroline being sensible. I was in shock.
Miko spoke first. ‘You not ram. I understand. These men will not surrender. They shoot. Is too dangerous. We go to French port, give problem away.’
‘Okay, we’ll go to plan D – Rachel’s plan.’
I called out to Lorelei, ‘Don’t go away, we’ll be back with help.’
We left in a cloud of diesel exhaust fumes and pistol shots.
Granville was in darkness. Saul had been before and motored into the harbour as quietly as he could. Rachel had changed into her ruined dress without complaint. I tried to help her up the dockside ladder but she slapped my hands away.
We found a telephone box but we didn’t have any French coins. I dialled the operator and asked to make a téléphoner en PCV to the number Rachel provided. We waited patiently, expecting to be denied, but a different operator came on the line and asked for my name. I handed the telephone to Rachel and she spoke in English.
She listened then put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I have to wait. I hope it’s not for the police.’
Fred had mentioned that Hélène had good contacts in the telephone exchanges. Perhaps the number she had given wasn’t just a normal line. How long dare we wait? Talking to the Jersey police would be infinitely more preferable than trying to explain this to the local Gendarmerie.
She started speaking. ‘Hélène. Thank goodness. I’m sorry to call you like this… yes, I understand. It is urgent. A white boat called Lorelei has broken down off the coast about three miles from Granville on a line to Jersey but it is drifting northwards. It has that cargo we discussed on board. There are six men, at least one is armed and another man is being held against his will. We are on Saul’s boat, Jacob’s Star… yes, yes.’ She listened for a few moments. Yes. Understood. Thank you. Goodbye.’
She replaced the instrument. ‘She wants us to go back to Lorelei and keep watch. She says someone will be with us within the hour. They will flash a message in something called Morse Code. Do you know it?’
‘Yes, but what’s the message?’
‘She didn’t give one but said you would understand.’
We found them still drifting and wallowing in the swell. Saul kept us circling and Miko and I took turns with the handgun to watch in case they launched their dinghy and tried to board us.
We waited. In between shifts with the gun, I brooded about what had happened during the meal. I needed to talk about it but the girls were closeted in the cabin and didn’t want to be disturbed until something happened. Saul was too busy at the wheel and Miko wouldn’t understand.
Ninety minutes later, I spotted lights moving towards us from the dark ribbon of the French coast. Eventually they split and two motor cruisers approached from different directions. One shone a powerful searchlight in our direction and it started to blink. Short – long – short – pause – short – pause – long – short – short. Hélène had said I would understand. They’d sent the word RED. I grabbed Saul’s torch and clicked out the response – FRED.
Both boats turned towards Lorelei and an amplified voice sounded over the waves. It spoke in French and demanded that they dispose of their weapons and prepare to be boarded. Alf’s men fired a couple of shots from their handguns. A fusillade of rifle shots cleaved through the air from both French boats.
I was wondering if any of Alf’s crew understood the language when an irate voice shot a rapid stream of French from Lorelei. It accused the interlopers of piracy, claimed they were in international waters and didn’t need assistance.
More rifle shots were fired and I could hear bullets pinging off Lorelei’s steel hull. Saul moved us further away. The French boats closed in and held Lorelei in cross beams of light and aimed rifles. The amplified voice repeated their previous order and one of the boats drew alongside the stricken vessel.
Through the binoculars I could see Carl holding his handgun aloft. I hoped he would shoot. But even Alf’s snarling dog had the sense to realise he was impotent. He dropped the gun overboard. The rest of the crew stood helplessly in the cockpit as three men jumped aboard. The French ushered Alf’s crew below then picked up a line from their cruiser and fastened it to Lorelei’s bow.
Within minutes they had her in tow and motored off towards Granville.
Caroline’s dress was still damp, her body sticky with salt, but the essence of Joy still teased as she pressed into me and took the binoculars. ‘Do you think he’ll get his boat back?’
I inhaled her scent. What the hell had happened to us? ‘I don’t know. They only want the diamonds. I assume they’ll hand the Afrikaners over to the Gendarmerie eventually. By the time Alf’s employers can make a fuss, the cargo will be long gone. These commies may talk a lot but they’re not shy of a bit of action. I’m glad we listened to Rachel. Looks like plan B and plan D both worked.’
‘You’re not very good at that, are you?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Listening. If you’d listened to Rachel before, or even to me, you and I wouldn’t be in this awful mess now.’ Her voice was surprisingly soft as she stepped away.
I wanted to follow, ask what she really meant, but Miko slapped my shoulder. ‘Hey, I still think ramming is best.’
Saul laughed. ‘Fun over for the night. We’ve got to navigate back to St Catherine’s. Caroline, be a dear and see if you can rustle up some coffee. There’s milk in the fridge.’
‘Fuck coffee, you prick. Where’s the bloody brandy?’
Miko nudged my elbow. ‘You think there will be reception for us?’
‘Yes, but not the sort we deserve.’
46
‘Right, Renouf, I’ll ask you once more.’ Inspector Le Feuvre was chairing my reception committee. Its other members, Detective Sergeant Greaves, still rubbing his neck, sat alongside him, and Detective Constable Clitheroe guarded the door behind me. ‘Where is he?’
‘The answer is still the same, Inspector, I don’t bloody know.’
He sipped his coffee. The blue overalls I’d been given to wear were itching and the wooden chair in this interview room wasn’t designed for comfort. ‘Your uncle was last seen with you in the car park. Where did he go?’
‘I don’t know – and I don’t care.’ I leant forward and placed my hands on the scarred table. ‘What I do want to know is what are you doing about the Germans. Why are you so interested in my uncle?’
‘That’s enough of your cheek, you young puppy.’ Le Feuvre leant across the table until his nose was almost touching mine – his coffee breath acid in my face. ‘You are in enough trouble already
– don’t make it worse.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
He laughed without humour. ‘Public affray, assault with a deadly weapon, obstructing the police, withholding information, fleeing the scene of a crime, aiding and abetting felons, conspiracy to pervert the course of justice and anything else in the book that comes to mind.’
‘Well charge me with something then. Get me a lawyer. Get me my clothes. Anything apart from asking me questions to which you know I don’t have any answers.’
‘Where had you been in that boat before you came back to St Catherine’s?’
‘I’ve told you enough times. We chased after Lorelei because those madmen had kidnapped someone. We wanted to see where they were going so we could report it but we lost them. We searched –’
‘Your Jewish friend said something about diamonds at the hotel. Were you chasing those?’
I forced a laugh. ‘He was trying to embarrass Hayden-Brown. He was angry because we’d discovered that he was assisting German spies. If you were Jewish, wouldn’t you be upset? Don’t you know what’s going on in Germany?’
He snorted. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never been there. Don’t believe everything the Jews and commies tell you.’
‘I won’t listen to the fascists either and I don’t know anything about diamonds.’ We’d agreed on this story. I just prayed the others would stick to it when it was their turn in this uncomfortable chair. One consolation was that Hélène had probably arranged a far more unpleasant interrogation for Alf and his crew.
‘Excuse me, Inspector, perhaps I might …’ Greaves spoke softly. Even though he was only a sergeant, it was clear that he was in charge.
‘As you wish but the boy is as stubborn as his uncle. He needs a bloody good birching.’ Le Feuvre slumped back and eyed me with venom.
‘Jack, you remember I gave you some information about that bike?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you find out any more?’
‘I might have, but what’s that got to do with this German conspiracy?’
He ignored my question. ‘Did you discover if your uncle has any papers which might have belonged to Lawrence?’
I was surprised by the sudden change in direction but managed to keep a straight face. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about – who’s Lawrence?’
He turned to Le Feuvre. ‘He’s trying to protect him. He knows a lot more than he is prepared to tell us. Isn’t that right, Jack?’
I caught myself just in time before I fell into his trap. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about. What about the Germans?’
‘We’ll come to that. First, tell me about your conversation with Eric.’
He was an expert and it was my first interrogation. I knew I couldn’t fool them, however hard I tried to keep a straight face. But I had to play the game.
‘Eric? Eric who?’
‘Eric Slater, regional organiser for the South of England.’
‘Organiser for what?’
‘Comintern – but you knew that, didn’t you?’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about. What’s commie turn?’
‘Comintern. Communist International. Dedicated to overthrowing democracy and bringing the world’s workers to Stalin’s bosom. Ring any bells now?’
‘No.’
‘Does your uncle work?’
‘He can’t find any. Whenever he applies, the vacancy is already filled.’
‘Does he claim Parish Relief then?’
‘I have no idea.’
Le Feuvre broke in. ‘If he did, we’d have him cleaning the sewers.’
Greaves ignored him. ‘So how does he support himself, Jack?’
‘You’d have to ask him.’
‘Well, we don’t need to as we already know. He is in the full-time employ of the Communist Party. They pay him more than he could earn as a skilled tradesman or even a police inspector.’ Greaves smirked.
‘If you say so. I’m sure he’s better educated than Mr Le Feuvre.’
A half-grin spread from his lips then he changed direction again.
‘Tell us about your uncle’s gun.’
I didn’t respond.
‘Tell us who you went to meet on your little sea trip to the Écréhous.’
I didn’t respond.
‘Was she French?’
I didn’t respond.
‘Was her name Hélène Guzman by any chance?’
I didn’t respond, but felt sure my face had.
‘Regional organiser for Normandy and Brittany. Did your uncle give her the papers?’
I stared ahead. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘How many other members of the Communist Party have you been associating with?’ He consulted a sheet of paper. ‘Tell us about Malita Perez, Rachel Vibert and Miklos Pavas. Tell us about your friend Saul Marcks. They all have two things in common, don’t they?’
I had to laugh – the thought of Saul as a commie was too much.
‘What’s so funny, Renouf?’ Clitheroe’s cockney growl underlined his lack of humour.
‘You are. I’m fed up with your nonsense. Are you all members of the British Union of Fascists? Why do you and your boss, Mosley, hate the Jews so much?’
Greaves regarded me slyly. ‘What about Senora Perez, Jack? Do you have any idea how many people she has shot? And what about your friend Mr Pavas? Do you know what he really did before he was deported from Romania?’
I believed what Miko had told me and was sure Fred hadn’t lied about Malita. But those stories would be wasted on Greaves – he’d already made up his mind. Perhaps he should look at Miko’s back, examine Malita… I felt my eyes burning again and turned away from them.
‘What’s wrong, Jack? The truth too strong for you?’
So this was their plan. Convince me that I had been lied to by my friends – try to turn me against them so that I would give them the information they wanted. Good plan but the major flaw was that I didn’t have the information they wanted. They knew more than I did.
How the hell would I know where Fred had gone? With that broken wrist, he was hardly the shooter. He couldn’t drive, couldn’t ride a bike. Perhaps he had received some assistance from a comrade – they certainly seemed to be everywhere. But Greaves would know that. I wanted to hit back – wipe the smirk off his face.
I pulled myself together and looked up again. ‘No. I’m disappointed in your lies. Would you like to show me your warrant cards or did the mad Afrikaner take them?’ I tensed myself for a punch from Clitheroe.
My stomach churned. I waited. Nothing. Le Feuvre continued to sip his coffee, Greaves smiled at me, Clitheroe moved closer. They waited, letting my provocative questions slither on the floor.
‘Tell us about the rifle shots from Marcks’ boat yesterday.’
How did they know that? Surely Rachel, Saul or Miko hadn’t said anything? ‘I didn’t hear any.’
‘Tell us about the rifle shots from your farm this evening.’
Well everyone must have heard those. I played deaf again. ‘I didn’t hear any.’
‘Who sunk the boat then?’
‘I didn’t know anyone had sunk it. I thought it hit the rocks. Did you rescue the survivors?’
He didn’t respond – just studied me as though weighing his options. ‘Why do you want to kill the young German?’
I stared ahead.
‘Is it because he’s been shagging your girlfriend?’
I’d anticipated that one. ‘Hardly – she’s his sister.’ At last I was able to reveal something they didn’t know. I sat back with a smug smile.
A wicked grin crossed Le Feuvre’s face. ‘Well I suppose you’re lucky she isn’t your sister – given that your father was fucking her mother.’
I threw myself across the desk and stretched for Le Feuvre’s throat. ‘You bastard!’
Clitheroe got a chokehold around my neck, dragged me back and
thrust me into the chair. ‘Any more of that, sonny and we’ll have to handcuff you.’ Clitheroe sounded like he would enjoy the procedure. I slumped back and glowered at them.
Greaves’ voice was calm. ‘Jack, you recall when we met up with you in that street and you dived into the back of that van?’ I nodded without looking up.
‘Why was that? Were you trying to hide something?’ He sounded so patient I realised they could keep this up until dawn and there was nothing I could do about it.
‘I have nothing to hide.’
Le Feuvre snorted.
Greaves pulled out a little casket and tapped some snuff onto his wrist. He sniffed it loudly and offered the box to Le Feuvre, who declined.
‘Fine, Jack, we’ll trade. I’ll answer one of your questions then you answer one of mine. Does that sound fair?’
‘Like hell.’
‘Give it a try – go on, ask me something.’
I considered. I could always lie but then so could he. ‘Why are you persecuting my uncle?’
‘We’re not persecuting him but he interests us. That’s our job. We collect information on terrorists, whether they’re Irish, Jewish or Communist. They’re all the same really. My turn –’
‘What about the BUF? Are you persecuting them?’ I interrupted. I wanted my money’s worth first.
He laughed. ‘What? That bunch of clowns. Harmless the lot of them – not that there are many left. We’re only interested in real terrorists – ones who place bombs, kidnap and assassinate – not windbags like Mosley.’
‘They’re still there. It’s just they’ve hidden their black shirts for the moment, swapped them for smart suits.’ I remembered something Fred had told me and pointed at Le Feuvre. ‘Why, I bet he’s still got his in a wardrobe at home. Isn’t that right, Inspector, weren’t you a leading light in the local branch of the Imperial Fascisti League?’
Le Feuvre’s face blossomed into the colour of the Communist flag.
Greaves frowned.
‘Oh, it’s true. They joined up with the local BUF a few years ago. Look at his face.’
Greaves shook his head but I’d knocked some of the wind out of his sails. ‘He’s not the one being questioned. You’re the one in serious trouble. Just remember that. Now it’s time –’