The Jonah

by James Herbert

  ‘That’s nice,’ she said, concentrating more on the attempt to retrieve her boot than his remarks. Ellie finally wrenched the wellington free and pulled it over her foot. She began to crawl back up the slope.

  Kelso reached down and she took his hand, covering the last few steps in a rush with his help. He steadied her at the top to prevent her slipping down the other side into the river, his hands clenched tightly around her upper arms.

  For a moment, he seemed uncertain of himself and his hands dropped away.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  He turned from her and pointed ahead to where the river snaked back on itself, almost in a U-turn. ‘I want to get round there, see what’s beyond. According to the map, that’s where the houses begin – or I should say, estates. They back onto the river.’

  ‘They’re marked on a map?’

  He dug a hand into the bag he carried over his shoulder and produced a folded white sheet of paper. ‘Drawn by a local artist,’ he explained, as he opened it up. ‘Much more useful than the ordinary printed maps. It has more details – footpaths, boundaries, old disused railways, even television masts. Look, it gives the names of private estates along the river.’

  ‘What’s this further up, where a main road crosses the river?’

  ‘It’s a maltings.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘An animal feedstuff mill. They convert grain, barley, turnips and suchlike into food for livestock.’

  They studied the intricately detailed map in silence for a few moments, a light breeze ruffling one corner of the map. Kelso was right, the girl thought. The waterway provided an ideal road inland from the sea. Secluded, not too much traffic but enough not to draw attention to individual boats. The only drawback was that the entrance to the channel would be closely watched, the coming and going of boats noted and those whose movements were suspicious would undoubtedly be searched from time to time. She knew a vigilant watch was always kept for illegal immigrants and unquarantined pets along the coastline and, now that the authorities in Spain and Portugal had clamped down so heavily on drugs smuggling, making Britain a little too popular as a clearing-house, the scrutiny of vessels had become even keener.

  ‘Do you mind if we sit for a while?’ she said.

  ‘Of course not. I should have told you the going would get rough.’ He tucked the map away and sat down on the footpath, legs dangling down the slope facing the river. She sat next to him and watched the languid flow, enjoying the sun on her face, its warmth tempered by the mild April breeze. Two white swans drifted by.

  ‘What did your boss have to say when you phoned?’ she suddenly asked.

  Kelso shrugged. ‘He told me to stop belly-aching and get on with the job.’

  Ellie laughed.

  ‘He said you were good. Professional.’

  ‘I am.’ A small motor launch on the far side of the river moved smoothly upstream, the noise from its engine somehow muted across the wide stretch of water.

  ‘He said your people wanted to flood the area with investigators.’

  ‘Over-reaction, that’s all. In the end they saw it would have done more harm than good. It would have queered your pitch.’

  ‘So they sent you instead.’

  ‘I’m all your department would allow.’

  They were silent for a while, she recovering from the rough hike he had brought her on, he lost in his own brooding thoughts. Finally, Kelso said: ‘What made you come into this game, Ellie?’

  ‘Customs and Excise?’

  ‘Drugs investigation.’

  ‘I don’t like what they do to people.’

  ‘Even marijuana?’

  She studied his face, then looked back across the water. ‘There’s a lot of rubbish talked about just how harmless it is.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Even in the police we’re a little cynical about the laws against it. They’re pretty harsh, considering.’

  ‘Considering the effects are no worse than having a few drinks?’

  ‘Some say the effects are a lot better. Kids have seen what booze can do to their elders, and they don’t like it. Make peace, not trouble. At least marijuana calms people, makes them friendly. You know, there’s supposed to be over two hundred million people using it today, religious and medical groups included. They can’t all be wrong.’

  ‘And how many will eventually be turned on to hard stuff? One in every hundred? One in every thousand? Even one in every million would be too much!’

  ‘Hey, come on.’

  ‘I mean it. It’s this bland acceptance of so-called soft drugs that gets me. More deaths and damage are caused by barbiturates and amphetamines than heroin and other narcotics.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve done my training, too.’

  ‘Then you should know how kids get hooked. They see their parents taking pills – headache pills, sleeping pills, slimming pills – and they experiment themselves. Ever heard of a "Drug Salad"?’

  He shook his head, surprised at her anger.

  ‘Kids steal whatever pills they find lying around in the home and mix them together with whatever their friends have found. The idea then is to dip in and swallow whatever comes out. Can you imagine what a combination of certain tablets can do? In the States, mothers pack vitamin pills into their children’s lunchpacks; some even dust their sandwiches with penicillin powder to keep the germs away. The next step for kids is grass, or maybe speed – whatever fancy name they give to dope to make it sound more friendly, more acceptable to themselves. When the kicks no longer come so easily with what they’re used to – with what their own metabolism has learned to resist – they go for something harder. Cocaine, opium, heroin. Or synthetic substitutes like Physeptone. Or maybe they’ll go for LSD and THC. It depends what they can afford. And remember, heroin is cheaper on the streets nowadays than cannabis. If they haven’t got the money, they find ways.’

  ‘But that’s like saying you should never taken an aspirin for a headache, because eventually one won’t be enough. You’ll need two. Then maybe three.’

  ‘We’re talking about kids, where moderation isn’t an easy word. I agree that if everyone was sane and sensible marijuana would be no problem. But not enough people – not enough adults, let alone youngsters – are that rational. It’s also now believed that cannabis may linger in the body in a harmful way for weeks after it’s inhaled.’

  ‘But doesn’t banning the drug make it all the more desirable?’

  She groaned. ‘Not that old "prohibition" chestnut.’

  ‘It’s true, though.’

  ‘Sure it’s true. But it’s the only control we have, inadequate though it may be. Look, if the Law turned around and said it was okay to rape, do you think the novelty would suddenly wear off? Christ, Kelso, you’re in the Force, you know just how thin that barrier between civilization and naked animal behaviour is.’

  ‘We were only talking about smoking grass.’

  ‘But a line has to be drawn somewhere, for all our sakes.’

  ‘It’s where you draw the line.’

  ‘You can’t let grey areas blur its edge, you know that.’

  He held up his hands. ‘Okay, I give in – with reservations. I only want to nick whatever villains the Law tells me to, anyway.’

  Her body seemed to relax. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you. It’s just that I’ve seen what drugs can do.’

  Kelso’s voice was soft. ‘So have I, Ellie.’

  ‘But to someone you’ve known, someone close to you?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t say that.’

  ‘I shared a room with a girl at university. We were good friends. She was quite brilliant, one of those infuriating people who never seemed to find it necessary to cram knowledge into her head. Once she was told something, or read something, it was there, locked inside her brain ready to be used the instant she needed it. She was a little younger than me – a child prodigy, really. Her father was a grocer in Sutton and he was so proud of his girl. I stayed at h
er home one weekend; he couldn’t stop talking about his Ginny and how proud he was of her achievements. Every time she went out of the room, he’d grin from ear to ear and tell me how marvellous she was. And she was, too; it was no idle boast.

  ‘It was the end of term, we’d finished our exams, I was worried, she was buoyant. We went to one of those end-of-term parties – I had to persuade her to go because she thought all those yahoo students were a bit wet. They were smoking pot, someone had some coke, "borrowed" from his rich parents, others had pills. Plenty of drink, too. One idiot arrived with pills and wouldn’t tell anyone what they were. Most of them there knew, but me and Ginny, we were a little naïve about such things. He persuaded Ginny to try one. I told her not to, but I suppose she felt she had to accept the dare. It turned out to be LSD. One lousy little tablet killed her. Just one.’

  She wasn’t looking at Kelso, but staring back down the river, the way they had come.

  ‘The effects of that tablet scared her so much she went into extreme hysteria. She died of asphyxia.’

  There wasn’t much that Kelso could say. He wondered if Ellie was weeping, but when she turned to face him there was only anger in her eyes. ‘You’ve obviously had to study reports on drug abuse. You must know the damage they’ve caused, particularly to young lives. So how can you be complacent?’

  ‘I’m not, Ellie. I’d just rather see real villains in the dock than some silly sod who hasn’t the sense to confine his pot smoking to his or her own home. The joke is that a lot of those students and undergraduates who are smoking now are eventually going to be lawyers, barristers, and a few of them judges; that’s when the law will be changed.’

  ‘You may be right. I hope not, but you may be.’

  ‘Is what happened to your friend the reason you joined Customs?’

  ‘No, it had nothing to do with it. It seemed an interesting job when I left university, but it was only later that I got involved in investigation. They keep an eye out for any of their employees who have an investigative flair; I guess I had. The more I learned just how corrupt and vicious the whole smuggling scene was – not just drugs – the more I wanted to do my bit to stamp it out. It will never happen, of course, but at least we’re controlling the situation to some extent. Not that we get much help from your lot.’

  Kelso smiled. The rivalry between Customs and Excise and the police was notorious and often a source of embarrassment to both organizations; he’d heard many stories of Customs investigation officers being arrested by the police and police undercover agents being followed by Customs officers.

  ‘Maybe we can really work together on this one?’ Ellie said and was surprised to see Kelso’s smile fade.

  ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’ He stood and she, too, got to her feet.

  They walked on in silence and Ellie resented his sudden aloofness. Did he think she was just a dead weight, a nuisance to be tolerated, but not accepted? Or did he believe his own publicity? Well, okay, if that was the way he wanted it, then that was how it had to be.

  And then she was laughing as she watched him slip and roll down the embankment into the mushy earth below.

  It was late afternoon and Ellie felt hot and sticky. It wasn’t the weather, for a cool breeze had struck up again; her discomfort was because of the wearing route march he had led her on. She was hungry, too.

  ‘Hey,’ she called out to him. ‘Don’t you ever eat?’

  They were using a narrow track leading across the fields which backed on to the outskirts of the town. He turned to look back at her and she could see his surprised expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, when she caught up with him. ‘I forgot about food.’

  ‘Well, your stomach should have reminded you.’

  ‘Are you tired?’

  ‘My spirit is willing.’

  He chuckled. ‘The going’s easier now. It won’t take us long to get back. I’ll cook us something while you take a shower.’

  ‘Oh no. If lack of food doesn’t concern you, I’d hate to think what your cooking’s like. I’ll handle the eats.’

  ‘Suits me,’ he said.

  They continued walking, Ellie keeping pace with him now she knew a goal was in sight. ‘You’re right about the river,’ she said after a while. ‘It’s a natural.’

  ‘Yeah, but no signs of trafficking. How many boats did we see using the river today? Two, three?’

  ‘There are plenty moored out there.’

  ‘Not many actually go out to sea, though. They mainly use the waterways.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll turn up something when we find out who the owners of those properties along the banks are. You never know, some of them could have criminal links.’

  ‘It’s worth a try. I’ll check with Lowestoft – they may come up with something.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the local bobby be better?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t even know I’m here. We thought it better to keep it as quiet as possible.’

  They crossed a footbridge, the grassed-edged canal beneath them shallow and slow-flowing. The path cut across another field and Ellie saw the allotments leading up to buildings just beyond.

  Kelso indicated with a nod towards a group of small red-bricked houses directly ahead of them. ‘That’s where the Preece family live.’

  ‘Not exactly the kind of people you’d expect to be turning themselves on.’

  Another straight, manmade canal edged the field, and a footbridge ran across it to the path leading around the allotments. They took it.

  ‘The woman jumped into that,’ Kelso said, pointing down into the water.

  ‘She was lucky it’s so shallow.’

  ‘They still had a job pulling her out, though. Apparently she kept trying to lie on the bottom. She wanted to drown.’

  Ellie shuddered. ‘We’ve got to find these bastards, Jim. They’ve caused one death, they could have easily caused more.’

  ‘If they’re the same people. What happened to the pilot and this family could be unconnected incidents.’

  ‘Yes, but I think you have the same feeling as me. I wasn’t sure when I came yesterday – I’m not absolutely sure now, but somehow I know there’s a link. Call it experience, or just plain woman’s intuition, but I feel certain the LSD came from the same source.’

  Kelso said nothing, but he understood her instinct and thought he could explain it. Any extraordinary event in this part of the country was completely out of character; two extraordinary events of a similar nature and you had to assume there was a link. Yet, it didn’t necessarily make it so. Ellie moved closer to him and slid a hand into his. He looked curiously at her and she inclined her head towards an old man who was working on one of the allotments. The gardener glanced up at them as they passed.

  ‘We’re supposed to be in love, remember?’ she whispered.

  They cut through an alleyway leading directly into the town and Kelso brought her to a halt at the end of it.

  ‘Look, I’m going down to the quay to see if Trewick’s drifter has come in. Why don’t you head back to the caravan, take your shower, and then get some food under way?’ He handed her the doorkey.

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘I won’t be long. I’ll just try and fix up a drink with him for later tonight, if he’s there.’

  ‘Only if I can come along for the drink too.’

  ‘Of course. We’re in love, aren’t we?’

  She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. ‘That’s for effect,’ she said, and her eyes were laughing at him.

  He watched her cross the road and turn to wave before she disappeared into a sidestreet. He was frowning as he walked towards the quay area.

  Kelso’s pace quickened when he saw the fishing boat was there, half its catch already loaded onto a waiting truck. He slowed down as he drew near, not wanting to appear overanxious. Two deckhands were loading long boxes crammed with whiting, cod and sprats; another man, older, thick grey sideburns almost meeting beneath his heavy chin, watched them from th
e drifter’s deck. He eyed Kelso suspiciously when he sauntered over.

  ‘Good catch?’ Kelso asked.

  The fisherman stared at him briefly, then shouted at the two men loading the truck. ‘Come on, you dozy bastids, we haven’t got all day!’ Even the Suffolk accent failed to soften the gravelly harshness of his voice. He regarded Kelso once more, not bothering to conceal the disdain he obviously felt. ‘No good fishing in these waters any more, mister. Fur’ners cleaned us out. Bastids!’

  He spat onto the dock, a gob of yellow phlegm landing only a few feet away from Kelso’s boots.

  ‘Yeah, bloody thieves,’ he agreed. ‘Andy’s not around, is he?’

  The fisherman’s face darkened and his scowl made the two men loading fish work even harder. ‘No, he ain’t around, that no-good fucker! Been to another one of his parties last night, I suppose. Let us down badly again. Ill kill the fucker when I get hold of him.’

  Sorry I asked, Kelso thought.

  ‘You weren’t with him last night, was you?’ the fisherman accused.

  ‘Me? No. I saw him in the pub, but he left early.’

  ‘Well, he’s done this once too often, he’s forrit this time.’ The fisherman jumped up onto the quayside with an agility that was surprising for a man so heavily built. He strode over to Kelso and a stout finger stabbed the air in front of the detective. ‘If you see him afore I do, being one of his mates . . .’

  ‘Wait, I’m not . . .’

  ‘If you see him, you tell him from me, I’ll knock his blasted head off when I get hold of him.’ He whirled away, no longer interested in Kelso, and scooped up one of the fish boxes and hurled it into the back of the truck over the heads of the two loaders. ‘No-good little bastid!’ Kelso heard him mutter.

  Kelso walked back to the high street, his mind busy with fresh thoughts. So Trewick hadn’t turned up for work this morning. He’d left the pub in a rush last night and hadn’t turned up this morning. Again, maybe nothing, but maybe something.

  By the time he reached the caravan site he was wondering if sheer desperation was making him exaggerate the significance of what was, after all, a minor event. But when he found Ellie’s slumped body lying on the caravan’s floor, he realized that things were taking on a new pace.