Rough Justice In Academia (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 2)

by P. J. Thurbin

Ralph drove with the side window of his car open to catch whatever breeze he could find. One of the drawbacks of having a vintage car was the absence of air conditioning. As he reached the outskirts of Holloway prison, his focus was in finding the balance between being broiled alive or being suffocated by traffic fumes.

  It was cooler inside the prison, but the fetid smell of disinfectant and boiled cabbage alerted his other senses. Still, he was delighted to see Katie again and she did appear slightly less pale and drawn than on his previous visit.

  “I must say, Katie, prison life seems to agree with you. You’re looking pretty chipper in spite of the heat and oppression of the weather,” Ralph said as he sat down opposite her.

  “Hey Ralph. I see they let you out on day release again. You must be in favour with old Granger,” she said with a laugh.

  The thing that he had always liked about Katie was her spirit. She packed a punch but it was always delivered with a kindly twist.

  “I promised I’d come to rescue you, Ma’am,” he said, trying to match Katie’s mood.

  “You’d make a lousy actor, Ralph. But thanks for the offer anyway. Seriously, though, I’m up for early release in just a few weeks and the warden has told me that there should be no problem getting the committee to approve it. Of course I haven’t the faintest idea what I’ll actually do once I am out of this place. Not much call for Jailbirds on most university faculties, I’m told. Well, except maybe in my homeland where they’re the foundation of the country,” she added with a wicked smile.

  “Well, the way things are going at Kingston I might be asking you for some ideas.”

  He told her about what had happened with George Rainton on the University grounds and that he was still in a coma in a secure hospital in the country.

  “Sounds as though the poor bloke was the target of a lot of people. KGB, a company whistle blower, or evenTed Berick come back from nowhere to get his revenge. For my money it’s Ted,” she said, with a conclusive thump on the table. The warder gave them a disapproving look.

  He told her about the University press release and how he had been implicated in the cover up.

  “Why?” Katie asked. “You had nothing to do with it.”

  Ralph told her how the new VC had pulled him aside at the concert and asked for his help because of a deal the old VC, Sir William Tiverton was in the midst of concluding with a Saudi investment banker. He hoped that she would see his dilemma.

  “So at last Ralph Chalmers has decided to look after his own interests. Good for you, sport,” she said with a grin. “All the time I’ve known you I’ve been waiting to see you fight back. Now you’ve got some leverage on the bastards you can make it pay.”

  He remembered that whenever she got enthusiastic about something she reverted to her Australian slang. Being incarcerated had not curbed her ability to curse. But at least she was real, more than could be said for most of the women he had come across in academic circles. She continued.

  “You do know that those Saudi’s support al Qaeda to keep them quiet. And al Qaeda funds the Taliban. So your needy students will in effect be funded in the same way as the Taliban.”

  “Yes I realize that,” Ralph replied. “But the Saudi investors have all sorts of projects in the UK, everything from retail outfits to hospitals and other legitimate institutions.” But his argument was falling on deaf ears.

  “And you know how much I hate those terrorist bastards. They murdered my husband, after holding him hostage in Somalia, don’t forget!” She was almost shouting.

  “Keep it down Eggerton. If you can’t control yourself we’ll have to go back to our cell now, won’t we. And we wouldn’t want that,” the warden warned.

  Ralph was at a loss. Here was this warder talking to Katie as though she were a child. He wondered if she had any idea what Katie had gone through or if she was aware that Katie had been Professor of Education at a leading University in London. But he fought down the idea of defending her. The one thing Katie didn’t need was a minder. He’d made that mistake trying to organize and manage Jane and hoped he had learned his lesson. But as always Katie bounced back.

  “Look Ralph, I’m really behind you one hundred per cent. I just can’t help it. My emotions just seem to get the better of me when anything conjures up what it must have been like for my husband in that stinking hell-hole. I know it isn’t fair to tar all Arabs with the same brush. Some good and some bad, just like with all of us. But you need to make sure that you cash in on the VC’s offer before the cheating incident has blown over and the money from the investor has been all used up. If you leave it too late you’ll finish up being the bridesmaid again. Well you know what I mean. Perhaps not the best metaphor for a bloke like you,” she said with a loud laugh. She gave a quick glance at the warder.

  “I had thought of asking the VC to put me on an International project of some sort. A kind of roving position going around to other countries drumming up students for Kingston. I’m pretty well burned out what with all the teaching and organizing events for Granger and could use a change of scenery,” he said.

  “That sounds like a pretty cushy gig,” Katie said. “Any room on it for an ex-con who speaks a bit of Arabic and Russian? But seriously, Ralph, if you can think of some way of linking me in I’d be ever so well behaved. You’d almost not notice I was there,” she laughed.

  “Actually I was thinking along those lines myself,” Ralph replied. “Of course you understand the University would draw the line at any actual employment by them, but if I am given a bursary to hire an outside consultant you’d be my main man. I mean woman,” Ralph nearly blushed as he corrected his faux pas.

  Ralph found himself telling her about the Banquet before he realised that it might not be a good idea. Summer evenings partying by the Thames was the last image that most prisoners would want to be reminded of. So he quickly switched to his concerns about Granger being a target. But as usual, Katie wasn’t about to let him dwell on the negative.

  “If someone wants to get at Granger then the banquet would be a perfect cover. An AK-47 from one of those castle turrets or a 007 James Bond type speed boat crashing into the guest’s barge or a drop of poison in the venison pie. The possibilities are endless. Granger’s practically a cooked goose. Hey, quite a good metaphor for your upcoming banquet.”

  “I take your point, but this is serious. If something untoward happened at the banquet I would probably be in for the chop. No promotion and no overseas travel for either of us.”

  “That ‘us’ sounded promising. Maybe I won’t have to get my begging bowl out after all,” Katie said as she looked him directly in the eye, which he found slightly unsettling.

  “Meanwhile is there anything you want me to bring you next time? And don’t say a file.” He realised that the warder had probably heard that one a million times before.

  “No. Just bring yourself. You can then have the satisfaction of gloating to me about what a success your blasted banquet was and how you managed to save the day by fending off the bad guys.”

  The bell signaled that visiting time was over. They said their goodbyes and Ralph waved to Katie as she was taken back to her cell. Back in the real world he had to concentrate on navigating through the commuter traffic, but before long he was back on campus sorting through a pile of assignments that had to be graded by the next day. Janice had left him a flask of iced lemonade and some of her homemade cakes which were very welcome after his warm drive back.

  Ralph’s fears about Granger being an easy target were soon allayed. Due to the adverse press about Granger being responsible for covering up the exam errors, it had been decided that he would play a low key role at the banquet. This meant that instead of the guests being rowed down from Kingston, as Granger had planned, a classic Victorian launch fitted out with quiet electric motors would be used. Peter and his ensemble would follow on a replica Mississippi Paddle Steamer. Peter showed his annoyance when the banquet team met for their final meeting.

 
; “Look Ralph, I’m getting fed-up with students asking me if I’m having auditions for banjo players. Trying to get a group of students playing oboes, horns, flutes, bassoons, trumpets and strings to play together in an auditorium is hard. On a blooming paddle steamer? I ask you. Almost bloody impossible. But I’ll try. Just don’t push me, okay?”

  “Peter, it’s only the once. And Handel’s Water Music is a great choice. It should go down well with the guests.”

  “Please don’t use the expression ‘go down’ when I’m going to be sitting on a blasted barge on the Thames,” Peter interjected.

  But the praise had helped Peter to relax. Music was, after all, his great passion.

  “Handel was trying to get back in favour with George I when he wrote his Water Music. There were three suites in all and he played them for the King by following the Royal Barge as it was rowed down the Thames, so I guess this in a way is an authentic tribute. Coincidentally, it was on 17th July 1717 on a summer’s evening nearly 300 years ago. You heathens will probably recognize it from the music they used in that Robin Williams film The Dead Poets Society. But you must admit that everything around here gets turned into a comedy, or more likely a farce,” Peter concluded with a groan of exasperation.

  Ralph was trying to regain control of his meeting when Joe Bullen broke in.

  “Look I’ve got a lot to do. So if you’re okay with the menu, I have to go.”

  Ralph glanced at the menu. He noticed that it included no less than five courses and each of those consisted of a smorgasbord of dishes. Joe continued unchecked.

  “I’ve got Civet of Hare, stag, chicken, pies, goslings, capon and pigeon for starters. Second course: Roe deer, pig, sturgeon, goat, heron, plus more capon, rabbit and pigeon. Third course is easy. Just Jelly. Then we get to the creams, cheeses, strawberries and plums, in course four. Five is easy again as we get the prepared wines, fruits and pastries. The pastries will be shaped as swans. A nice touch to end on, don’t you think?”

  Earlier that day Janice had made a mild complaint to Ralph about Joe. It seemed that when she had asked him for some clarification on the spelling, of some of the items, she said that Joe had been quite rude to her. For Janice that translated into ‘he went flaming ballistic!’ But he could see that Joe was under a lot of pressure and it was not the best time to ask him to apologise.

  “Thanks, Joe. We only have a 3 hour window for the eating and drinking. And of course we’ll provide some entertainment during the feasting. You know jesters and the like. Then we’ll round the evening off with some dancing. We’ve arranged for some carriages from the concession at Hampton Court Palace to arrive at 11 to wrap up the proceedings and whisk the guests off to their hotels.” He saw Lance glance across at Joe before he spoke.

  “So will I get a chance to show some of my boxing skills or do you want an exhibition of martial arts? The girls usually love it. Sorry Ralph, just joshing. Seriously I have arranged for a group of entertainers to come in as you asked. They’re spot on when it comes to Tudor banquets. So no worries. It’s all covered. I’ve also organized a fireworks display and the laser beams and flood-lighting of the Palace. Jean and I went down to see one of their performances at Windsor Castle last weekend and it was a corker. She gave me a spin in her Mercedes. I think she must have been a Panzer tank driver in a previous incarnation.” He smiled across at Jean.

  For a moment Ralph was stunned. He had no idea that Jean drove a Mercedes. She always came in by train and then caught the college bus to the campus. He recalled what the cleaner had said about seeing a Mercedes in the car park at Kenry House when Rainton was attacked, and for a brief moment he wondered if there was any connection. However, the obvious impatience of the group brought him back to reality and he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

  “Our guest list is confirmed,” Ralph said. Sir William Tiverton will be in the launch with his Saudi investor, the current VC, Marcel Raveaux and his wife will also be there as well as the two chaps from the French Universities and the senior executives from Shell Oil and Rolls Royce. Professor Granger will be waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall to welcome the guests. So it will be quite a party. I’ve put out a programme and you should be getting copies by tomorrow.” He continued to plough through some of the details and timings. After about an hour he closed the meeting, more quickly than perhaps he should, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate.

  “What’s with that Bullen chap, anyhow,” said Peter when the rest of the group had dispersed. “Just then when you were reading out the guest lists and the rest of the programme he suddenly sat up and began to take notice. Usually he looks bored to death when anyone besides himself is speaking.”

  “He’s a funny chap,” said Ralph.

  Ralph had decided that he should inform the police about his discovery that Jean owned a black Mercedes. Back in his office he pushed aside any feelings of disloyalty to a colleague and telephoned Inspector Linham. The Inspector was quick to respond.

  “Thank you for letting us know, Professor Chalmers. We had identified Professor Maitland as the owner, but we would prefer you said nothing about this to anyone else. Suffice it to say that she had arranged to meet Sir George Rainton the day he was attacked. When he didn’t show up at her office at the appointed time she presumed he had gotten waylaid by more pressing matters and so she decided to leave. She spotted Sir George hurrying towards Kenry House as she was pulling out of the car park and motioned him over to the car, where they sat and spoke for a while. She told us that when she left him he was headed in the direction of the conference hall.

  “But what possible business could Sir George have had with Professor Maitland?” Ralph asked. As far as he knew, they had only a nodding acquaintance.

  “I’m afraid I am not privy to that information,” Linham responded.“However, we’ve reconfirmed with the cleaner her observation about seeing the black Mercedes and the two people she saw arguing. She says that it could have been a woman she saw.

  Special Branch has confirmed that they are aware of the meeting between Professor Maitland and Sir George. I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say anything more about that aspect and I must emphasize that this is all confidential. I’m sure that after your conversation with Special Branch you will understand why this is so.” The Inspector then told him about the extra cover being provided for the guests and Granger at the banquet. In addition to the extra manpower at the Palace, they had two men on the Mississippi paddle steamer and one driving the launch.

  Having acknowledged what the Inspector had told him, Ralph put the phone down. He was shocked to hear that Jean had been working with Sir George Rainton all along; even more so that she was somehow involved with Special Branch. He wondered if it had something to do with her father’s work on chemical warfare at Porton Down or something else. If she had engineered Sir George’s presence at the conference it was no wonder she was so upset to hear that he had been attacked. But it didn’t throw any more light on the attacker. It could it still have been the KGB or Ted Berick. And now he was even starting to suspect Lance. He and Jean seemed pretty close. Was it possible that Lance was also involved in the chemical weapons business? Granger had covered for him pretty quickly when his CV details had been questioned, and that wasn’t like him at all. Had Special Branch planted Lance in the University along with Jean? They did join the University staff about the same time. He was now starting to get seriously paranoid.

  Chapter 14

  Hampton Court Palace is some twelve miles southwest of London and only three miles by river from the University. It is a magnificent red brick Tudor building built by Cardinal Wolsey around 1514. Before he had a chance to enjoy its lavish splendors he gave it as a gift to Henry VIII in a failed attempt to stay in favour. The setting was ideal for a summer banquet. Extensive rose gardens, climbing plants covering old mellow brick walls and trim lawns surrounded the many buildings and stables. Visitors could admire the Royal Tennis Courts, the Great Hall feat
uring a beautiful hammer beam roof, the Royal Chapel and priceless Old Masters that adorned the oak paneled rooms. The central courtyard was laid out in the form of a monastic cloister complete with a 20 foot tall water fountain.

  Joe Bullen had made good use of the kitchens which had originally been built to feed Henry VIII’s 1000 courtiers and guests. Thousands of tourists visit the Palace each year, paying to be regaled by the guides with stories of the various fates that befell Henry’s six wives. His fifth wife, Catherine Howard, had been accused of adultery and imprisoned in her rooms before being beheaded. Her ghost had been reported to be seen running through the Palace hallways seeking the King’s pardon, but always to no avail. Murder, intrigue and death were no strangers to the Palace.

  Ralph stood with Granger on a small jetty by the river where the passenger boats normally tied up to disgorge their gay hordes. On this tranquil summer evening it was cordoned off. He caught that smell of damp newly cut grass and wild herbs that is always found alongside fresh water river banks. The bulk of the guests had already arrived and were wandering around admiring the grounds. He had arranged for a trumpet fanfare to announce the arrival of the launch and its special guests. It would also mean that the banquet was about to start and that they should make their way to the banqueting hall. Timing was critical at such a large event.

  “I hope you get it right this time, Ralph. This is your chance to put us on the map. If not, it’s the carpet for you, my lad, and I don’t mean a red one,” chortled Granger. Ralph decided to ignore the mild threat that belied Granger’s attempt at humour.

  Ralph saw the launch approaching as it created a small cream coloured wave that curled up from the bow as the ripples it made ricocheted off the steep river bank. Peter’s music wafted off the water from the paddle steamer as the launch tied up at the jetty. ‘So far so good’, thought Ralph. Ralph had dragooned a number of his best students to help smooth the proceedings and he noticed that two of the sturdier young men were helping Sir William Tiverton negotiate the stairs.