by John Creasey
Biship was frightened, too.
He had not reckoned on such an immediate mobilisation of the police and the Fire Service. Wherever he went there were signs of them, and on foot he had no time to get round. He turned a corner some minutes’ walk from his second objective, the waste merchant’s, and saw a bicycle leaning against the wall. It was a small machine, probably a child’s, but he was a small man. He hurried up, pushed it and jumped astride. He heard someone call out, but pedalled furiously along the street, turned a corner, and saw the entrance to the warehouse - and two policemen getting off bicycles in front of it.
He had the stick of TNT in his hand.
One of the policemen saw it, and gave a deep bull-like roar. Biship flung the stick, high in the air. One of the policemen ducked and covered his head and shoulders, the other one leapt at Biship. Biship passed within a foot of him, kicking out with his right leg. He cracked his shoe into the man’s face as the policeman tried to grab the moving bicycle, and heard the sound; a moment later the explosion came. He went on furiously, swung round a corner, and saw more policemen and plainclothes men strung along the road, obviously hurrying to some rendezvous. It was like a peep-show. One moment, they were all walking away from Biship, then the roar of the explosion came, and every man stopped, every head jerked round.
Biship had another stick in his hand, and the glitter in his eye was so vicious that it looked as if he would throw it along the line of men. Instead, he swung his wheel in the opposite direction.
Men began to run after him.
He turned the next corner, where a solitary policeman was hurrying along the middle of the road. It was one with empty houses on either side, some of them already under the demolition machines. A hundred yards away was a public house, and on the opposite corner a general shop. Biship’s next objective was half a mile away, and he knew of a short cut - but the policeman stood between him and that narrow lane.
The policeman’s name was Lee. He was twenty-three. He had been in the Force for eighteen months, and only seven months on his own beat. He always followed every move and every order, every request and every teleprint message as closely as a student studied his books, and he had studied Biship’s photograph just as closely. He had just been told that Biship was going round with sticks of TNT in his pocket, blowing places up.
He saw Biship riding furiously towards him on the bicycle. He saw the glitter and the glare in the man’s eyes. He stood quite still. In a strange way it was like being on the Rugby field, waiting for the other man to swerve. Biship came very close, and P.C. Lee did not move. Suddenly, Biship swerved to the left.
Lee saw what he was going to do, and leapt at him. He caught Bishop round the waist, and they crashed down - and before Lee even realised that he was hurt, all the remaining sticks of dynamite blew up.
Two policemen, chasing after Biship, saw the whole incident from the corner. One flung himself down in time to miss the worst of the explosion; the other was badly injured in the head and chest.
Gideon was half a mile away when the news came through. At first, he could hardly believe that it was true, but the reports were emphatic, and when he heard details of the sacrifice of P.C. Lee he had no further doubts. His driver looked at him, and saw that he was moistening his lips.
He said: ‘Looks as if that’s over. Take me on to NE headquarters, will you?’ He sat back, staring straight ahead of him, hearing the reports going to and fro through the air, noting the relief and the jubilation in the voices of men as the one phrase was repeated over and over again:
‘We’ve got him.’
Five minutes later, the car pulled up outside the old Victorian building which houses NE Division - a fire-trap, if ever there was one. Hopkinson, tall, thin, with a well-brushed and recently showered hair, was standing in the hall with Lemaitre, who was smiling. Gideon went in. The charge room was on the right, and someone was talking in there, indignantly. Gideon ignored the talk, but said to Hopkinson:
‘If you can’t find me a quick one, I’ll have your stripes.’
‘Come up to the office,’ Hopkinson said. He looked shocked. ‘You look as if you can do with one, George. Heard how it ended? One of my chaps did it, chap named Lee. Wouldn’t have thought he had the guts, he was always throwing the book about.’
‘Married?’
‘No. Only son,’ said Hopkinson., it’s a hell of a business. I . . .’
‘Mr. Gideon!’ a man shouted, from behind Gideon, and he looked over his shoulder to see an enormous creature, who towered even over him, striding after him, big face aflame with indignation, thick lips parted, great hands outstretched. ‘Mr. Gideon, I swear to you on my mother’s dying body, I never went to do no looting. I thought old Gran Muggs was up in that bedroom, deaf as a post Gran is, and as Gawd’s my judge, I went to get her out. I’ve run straight for over two years, Mr. Gideon, I’ve got a decent job, I’d be crazy to throw all that away. Can’t you make Mr. Hopkinson and Old Lem see sense?’
There was a pause.
Hopkinson said: ‘All right, Tiny, we’ll take your word for it this time.’
The delight on the big man’s face was remarkable to see.
It was a little after six o’clock when Gideon entered his office again. Bell was still there, relaxing with his feet up on the desk, pipe going, a cup of tea or coffee at his elbow. He moved his feet as Gideon went in, and said:
‘Why didn’t you go straight home, George? The Yard won’t fall down if you’re not here every minute.’
‘I need it more than it needs me, known that for a long time,’ said Gideon. ‘I’m on my way home, anyhow. Seen all the reports?’
‘Yes.’
‘Much damage?’
‘Only one big fire, and that’s under control. Not much doubt that he was going to ring the whole area, George. Five deaths, one in the explosion at the first place, one our man Lee. Wonder how many chaps like Lee we’ve got.’
‘Plenty,’ said Gideon, gruffly. He sat on the corner of his desk, smoothed the surface of his pipe inside his pocket, and said: ‘I’ve just seen his mother. She looked - oh well, you know. We’ve got to get a posthumous George Medal for Lee, Joe.’ He paused. Anything in from Cornish?’
‘No.’
‘Couldn’t have run into trouble, could he?’
‘Shouldn’t think he would worry to report unless he had some good news,’ Bell said, comfortably. ‘We’ve had Riddell on the line, though. He’s going to hold Harrison in the morning. Looks cast iron.’
‘Well, he stuck to it and he’s fixed it,’ Gideon said, and then the door opened, and a tired but relaxed Margetson came in.
‘Just come from the place where Biship was living,’ he said promptly. ‘He has an old Olivetti, and there were some sketch maps of the area he was in today. His landlady said she couldn’t believe it, he was such a nice man. The more I see of the reports, the more it’s obvious that when his wife and daughter were burned to death it turned his mind. Never was a hundred per cent normal, I should think.’ Margetson rubbed his eyes. ‘Got to admit I’m tired now, George.’
‘You go and get some sleep,’ said Gideon. ‘Seen Carmichael?’
‘He was busy at the big fire, but was going home when I left. He said he’d call you in the morning.’
‘Right,’ said Gideon, and Margetson went to the door. There was a chorus of good nights, and the door closed. Gideon stared out of the window at the brightness of the Thames, heard the roar of the late home-going traffic, and said: ‘I wish Cornish would come through.’
He stifled a yawn. ‘I’ll go and see Priddy, and make sure . . .’
He broke off, when the door opened, and Cornish came in. It was impossible to judge anything from his expression except that he wasn’t jubilant. Gideon felt a wave of relief, and realised how much he had worried about a repeat performance by Mrs. Clapper’s killer.
‘Hallo, George,’ Cornish said. ‘Had quite a time, haven’t you?’
‘I survived,’ Gi
deon said. ‘Going to be a mess to clear up, and I wouldn’t mind betting that every newspaper leader tomorrow says that it’s past time something was done to clear the slums we’ve still got.’ He broke off. ‘Any luck?’
‘No,’ answered Cornish, heavily. ‘Not since Clapper gave us Spender’s name and address. Spender hasn’t been at Mayling Street for three days and nights. It’s pretty clear that he kept one set of clothes there, one set of everything he needed, but it wasn’t much more than a pied-à-terre. I wouldn’t mind betting that he’s known for some time that he couldn’t he too sure of the Clappers, and he’s made himself a third identity somewhere. Might be halfway across the world for all we know.’
Gideon grunted: ‘Pity. But we’ll get him.’
In fact, Scarfe alias Spender alias Simpson was not halfway across the world, but he was halfway across the Channel in an aircraft. His passport was under the name of Simpson, and he did not think there would be any trouble at the other side. Whether he would ever be able to return to England safely was a different matter, and deep down in him there was a fear that one day he might be identified, one day there might be an extradition order for him. But for the time being, he was safe.
Gideon opened the front door of his home, heard the piano being played with a touch which only Penelope had, walked past the front room, and saw Kate sitting in front of the television in the living-room; a conjuror was doing remarkable things with a white handkerchief. Kate looked round, leaned forward immediately and switched off, and said:
‘George, you look tired out.’
‘I’m all right,’ Gideon said. ‘Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.’ He stood in front of her, held her arms firmly, and looked straight into her clear grey eyes. ‘How about Helen today. She all right?’
‘I told you last night that there wasn’t anything to worry about,’ Kate said. ‘Two days in bed, and she’ll be as right as I am.’
‘So she was wrong about a baby,’ Gideon said.
‘I’m not sure, and I don’t suppose I ever will be,’ Kate said quietly. ‘I have a feeling that Jane Miall was more determined than anyone to make sure that if they marry, it won’t be under compulsion, and I have an idea . . .’
Gideon put his hand on Kate’s knee.
‘Forget it, Kate.’
‘I suppose I must,’ Kate said, with a smile, but her expression was serious as she went on: ‘Ted Miall still thinks in terms of marriage as an obligation. With the baby, I think I would too, but now I don’t know what to say.’
‘I know this,’ said Gideon. ‘Matthew and Helen will do what they want, whatever we or Ted Miall says, and I for one am damned glad they won’t let themselves be panicked into marriage. It wouldn’t surprise me if they changed their tune in a few months’ time, but now - if Ted Miall’s got any sense, he won’t drive Helen too far, or he’ll drive her away from home.’
‘I think you can leave Ted to his wife,’ Kate said, mildly.
‘She can handle him just as well as you can handle me,’ Gideon remarked dryly. After a pause, he went on: ‘Anything in the oven? I’m as hungry as a horse.’
‘I’ll get your nosebag,’ Kate said, and squeezed his hand, then stood up.
‘I’ll get you a drink, that and a tablet will give you the best night you’ve had in years,’ Harrison said to his wife. ‘You get into bed and I’ll bring it up to you. Okay?’
‘Thank you everso, Tony,’ Pamela said, and her eyes lit up.
Harrison went hurrying down the stairs, and she heard him whistling. It was a long time since she had felt that he was really happy, a long time since she had felt he cared about her at all. She lay on her pillows, looking at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, seeing two pots of expensive make-up. When Tony returned, carrying two glasses which seemed to contain the same brown liquid, there were tears in her eyes.
She took the glass he handed to her.
‘Here’s to a good night’s sleep,’ he said, and chinked his glass against hers.
She didn’t like the strong, bitter flavour, but it didn’t worry her, and Tony drank his drink just as quickly.
Ten minutes later, she was asleep.
When Superintendent Riddell reached the Brighton Police Headquarters next morning, a little before nine o’clock, he was all set to make the arrest. He went upstairs to an office which he shared with a local man, and went in.
The Brighton superintendent, an elderly officer, looked up and said:
‘Queer turn-up with Harrison, Rid. His wife’s been found dead - died of an overdose of sleeping tablets. That’s the doctor’s first opinion anyhow. Harrison himself was out all night, at Chloe Duval’s place. He went home about eight this morning to get some clothes, and found the body.’
The Brighton man broke off and stared at Riddell, who had lost all his colour, and whose eyes held a look of horror.
‘All right, Rid, come up as soon as you can,’ Gideon said. ‘And don’t start kicking yourself. There was no reason at all to think Harrison’s wife was next on the list . . . We can’t do anything about her, but we can get Harrison for the earlier jobs even if we can’t pin this on to him. You take it easy.’
He rang off, but kept a hand on the receiver for several seconds, while he stared out of the window, the plane trees and the sky. He could so easily have encouraged Riddell to pick up Harrison yesterday, and then this might not have happened. Was there no end to the mistakes a man could make, unwittingly? Must he be damned to blindness such as this?
If Harrison had killed his wife, as Riddell obviously believed, that was one thing. If she’d committed suicide then neither he nor Riddell need have any regrets. There was no need to assume the worst.
No man could have second sight, anyhow.
The telephone rang beneath his hand, and he picked up the receiver.
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Gideon Series
(Writing as JJ Marric)
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Title Also Published as:
1 Gideon’s Day Gideon of Scotland Yard 1955
2 Seven Days to Death Gideon’s Week 1956
3 Gideon’s Night 1957
4 Gideon’s Month 1958
5 Gideon’s Staff 1959
6 Gideon’s Risk 1960
7 Gideon’s Fire 1961
8 A Conference for Assassins Gideon’s March 1962
9 Travelling Crimes Gideon’s Ride 1963
10 An Uncivilised Election Gideon’s Vote 1964
11 Criminal Imports Gideon’s Lot 1965
12 Gideon’s Badge 1966
13 From Murder to a Cathedral Gideon’s Wrath 1967
14 Gideon’s River 1968
15 Gideon’s Power 1969
16 Gideon’s Sport 1970
17 Gideon’s Art 1971
18 Gideon’s Men 1972
19 Gideon’s Press 1973
20 Gideon’s Fog 1975
21 Gideon’s Drive 1976
22 Vigilantes & Biscuits Gideon’s Force 1978
Other Series by John Creasey
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)
‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)
‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)
‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)
‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
‘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 Toff’ Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Title Also Published as:
1 Introducing the Toff It’s the Toff ! 1938
2 The Toff Goes On 1939
3 The Toff Steps Out 1939
4 Here Comes the Toff 1940
5 The Toff Breaks In 1940
6 Salute the Toff 1941
7 The Toff Proceeds 1941
8 The Toff Goes to Market 1942
9 The Toff Is Back 1942
10 The Toff on the Trail (short stories) 1942
11 The Toff among the Millions 1943
12 Accuse the Toff 1943
13 The Toff and the Deadly Parson The Toff and the Curate 1944
14 The Toff and the Great Illusion 1944
15 Feathers for the Toff 1945
16 The Toff and the Lady 1946
17 Poison for the Toff The Toff on Ice 1946
18 Hammer the Toff 1947
19 The Toff in Town 1948
20 The Toff Takes Shares 1948
21 The Toff and Old Harry 1949
22 The Toff on Board 1949
23 Fool the Toff 1950
24 Kill the Toff 1950
25 A Knife for the Toff 1951
26 A Mask for the Toff The Toff Goes Gay 1951
27 Hunt the Toff 1952
28 Call the Toff 1953
29 The Toff Down Under Break the Toff 1953
30 Murder Out of the Past (short stories) 1953
31 The Toff at Camp The Toff at Butlins 1954
32 The Toff at the Fair 1954
33 A Six for the Toff A Score for the Toff 1955
34 The Toff and the Deep Blue Sea 1955
35 Kiss the Toff Make-Up for the Toff 1956