Kaufman jammed the button down on the inter-com: "Hewit! Sound Watkins out in that cab of his. Find out where in hell they've got to."
"Right away, Mr Kaufman."
"Let's have another drink," Kaufman carried his glass across the room, "It's happening, Sam. I can feel it. We've rattled the bastards."
I nodded. "Like the Czechs rattled Hitler before the war. The next week he walked all over them."
"Okay smartarse. Got any suggestions?"
I shook my head. "No suggestions," I said, "just premonitions." And it was true. That secret look between Kaufman and Lucia had unsettled me. Suddenly I felt something was wrong, desperately, violently, dangerously, wrong. Watching Kaufman made me feel worse. Despite his confident assertions, he was obviously worried. Pacing the room, checking his watch every ten minutes, smoking like a chimney. Then the telephone rang. The outside line.
Lucia went white when she answered it. She stood perfectly still, holding her breath - catching her breath. And when she covered the mouthpiece she was trembling, "It's Corrao," she said, "Pietro Corrao. At least he says he is."
CORRAO! It might have been yesterday. Everything about him stood out in my mind. His sneering voice, that odd jerking motion of his head, his limp left hand - everything.
But Kaufman sounded relieved. "Corrao," he whispered almost in awe, almost triumphant - as if something he had been hoping for but not quite believing had actually happened.
"They've made contact," he said in a hoarse whisper, "Jesus Christ - we're through to the Pipeline."
We moved for the desk together, bumping into each other. He put a hand on my arm as I reached for the telephone, but I brushed him aside. My mind registered the quick film of sweat on his forehead, and then I was saying, "Hello - Sam Harris speaking."
And there it was. A jeering laugh burning a hole in my memory. "Hello, Winner," he said. "How does it feel to be a free man again?"
Temper made my mouth go dry. Corrao! I hated him. Hated his name, his voice, mannerisms - hated everything about him. Hated him for the man I once was and the man he had turned me into.
"Winner? Still there, Winner?"
Even the use of the old nick-name was a taunt.
"Yes, I'm here, Corrao. What do you want?"
Kaufman shot me a warning look, aware of my temper.
"Now Winner," Corrao scolded, "that's no way to greet an old friend - besides I thought you wanted to meet me. At least, that's what everyone's saying."
"Then everyone's got it wrong," I snapped. "I want the organ grinder, not the monkey. What are you these days anyway? Still nine, ten, eleven in the line?"
He made a quick hissing noise. I even remembered that. Him hissing like a snake when he was really upset. But it made me feel better.
He said, "You always were an arrogant bastard. Perhaps you need another lesson?"
I grinned spitefully. "Listen, Corrao, I'll make it brief. I want a meeting with the Ferryman, and I want it fast. So fast that I'll blow one of your operations every day you delay. Starting tomorrow. You might not know it, but the name Forresters of Southampton is important to the people you work for. And it will mean a lot to the police tomorrow. You got that?"
"That's a big mistake-"
"Come off it, Corrao. Tell them it's Goodman's of Hull the next day. You want me to go on? I can you know — I've got a list as long as your arm."
"I doubt that-"
"Do you? Well you explain it to your masters when the police hit Forresters tomorrow."
Then I slammed the phone down. Kaufman never had a chance to stop me. It took him a second or two to catch his breath, then he went purple with temper. "What the hell? You stupid bastard! Procedures I said-"
"I know what you said. You also said you weren't a gambler. Well, I ran casinos, remember? He'll phone back-"
"Do you realise next door were trying to trace that call? Do you understand what's riding on this? Now you get this straight-"
"No - you get it straight. You were wrong about Hardman. And you're holding out on me. Something happened in January and you know about it. You be straight with me and-"
The telephone rang. I was glad it did. Tracing Corrao's call had not occurred to me. I'm not even sure why I did hang up. Partly Corrao's manner - part instinct saying it was the best way to handle him. His voice was strangulated with temper. "Listen Harris," he snapped, "you'll get your meeting but at a time and place of our choosing. And I'll guarantee you won't give a single name to the police."
The open threat! Like three years ago. But there was no bluff then - he had carried it out. I hesitated and he sensed my uncertainty because he laughed. "Why not talk it over with your new partner?" he suggested, "and I'll call back in an hour's time. Ciao, Harris." Then he put the phone down.
I replaced the receiver and stared at Kaufman. "He knows about you."
"Like hell he does-" Kaufman scowled, interrupted by the intercom.
"Trouble," Hewit said breathlessly, "Watkins reported in. Darmanin was shot as he answered the door to Henderson. It's a bit confused but under control. They're on their way back".
"Shot? How?" Kaufman barked.
"Sniper fire. Watkins thinks it was the same man as at Hampstead. Darmanin opened the door with the light behind him, made a perfect target-"
"Is he dead?"
"I - I don't think he was killed instantly. But he's dead now."
"Tell Watkins to get back to Wells Court. Wells Court understand? Under no circumstances to use Rex Place."
"Yes, Mr Kaufman."
Kaufman turned from the desk and swore violently, just as the door opened and Jack came in. He looked vaguely troubled and preoccupied, but he managed a tired smile for Lucia as he slumped into an armchair.
But Lucia's face held my attention. She might have seen a ghost.
"How - how was Maria?" she asked. She tried to say it casually but her tone betrayed her. And she was dry washing her hands with anxiety as she waited for an answer.,
Jack shrugged, "She and Rosemary went shopping in Bristol. They weren't back. I'll call again - it's just I know she was worried and-"
"I'm going next door," Kaufman said sharply, "Sam, come with me. Jack, you stay with Lucia. Henderson's on his way back in, see him for me will you?"
"But you just told-" I began.
"You know what to do, Lucia," Kaufman said as he took my elbow.
"Must I?" She was as white as paper, "Must it always be me?"
But Kaufman didn't stay to answer. I was half led, half pushed into the kitchen. Then he crossed to the larder and was running down the passage with me on his heels. Hewit was in the big back room we had used earlier. Another man was at the long table against the far wall. He cradled a telephone under his chin and was writing furiously.
Kaufman snapped, "Get Bath on the line." Hewit looked surprised. "They just came on. About ten minutes ago. Johnny's talking to them-"
"Switch that loudspeaker on. No, don't bother, I'll do it myself," Kaufman flung himself behind the desk and flicked a button on his telephone. "Kaufman here - what in God's name has happened down there? Where's-"
"Cook here, Mr Kaufman. It's bad news I'm afraid. Very bad news-"
"Tell me," Kaufman growled, staring at the telephone. "Mrs Green and Mrs Parker went shopping for the afternoon in Bristol. They parked the car in an underground car park-"
"Parked the car? Who parked it? How many men did you have on this?"
"Ray Peters parked the car. He stayed with the car while Harry Hall accompanied the ladies shopping-"
"Just one man? Just one man went with them? Is that what you're handing me?"
The voice hesitated. "Well, they were only going shopping-" "Holy Christ!" Kaufman's head was in his hands, "Go on - what happened?"
"They shopped - had tea out — Harry stayed with them all the time. Then, just before they returned to the car park, the ladies went to the loo. Harry positioned himself outside and waited. Well, nothing happened for a while -
ten, fifteen minutes according to Harry. Then he got worried-"
"Then he got worried!" Kaufman's voice was muffled by his hands over his face. "God in heaven! Two girls go to the can and he lets them go. Why weren't women assigned to this-"
"Harry went in after twenty minutes," the voice said hurriedly, "There - well, there was another entrance. It was one of those big stores - you know the sort of thing, public lavatories serve two floors, steps up and down-"
"What are you - a fucking architect?" Kaufman roared. "Mrs Parker was out cold. Chloroform. But - well, there was no sign of Mrs Green." Kaufman groaned.
"Harry rushed down to the car park to fetch Ray Peters, but but Peters wasn't there. At least not in the driver's seat. Mr Kaufman - a truly terrible thing happened. We only found the body minutes ago."
"They killed her. You let them-"
"Not Mrs Green - Ray Peters. Garrotted with an elasticated cord. We just found his body in the boot, er trunk you'd call it. Harry never thought to look there-"
"Get on with it," Kaufman implored in a voice cold with fury.
"Well, whoever did it left a message. A sort of message. We found a piece of zinc pipe on the front seat of the car. Makes it pretty clear-"
"Jesus!"
"Yes - well - exactly. Earlier, when Harry couldn't find Ray, he went back up into the store to phone in-"
"There was no RT?" Kaufman's astonishment threatened to render him speechless. "There was no RT in the automobile?"
"It was Mrs Parker's own car. A Jaguar. We thought it would be less conspicuous. Ray phoned in from the store about an hour ago. They were just closing-"
"Mrs Green?" Kaufman's stubby fingers were doing terrible things to the flesh on his face.
"No sign of her yet, sir. But we've put out a full scale search road blocks, the airport - it happened less than an hour ago - well about an hour-"
"Oh sweet Jesus Christ!" Kaufman moaned. His head was in his hands and he seemed intent on tugging great clumps of hair out of his scalp. Even as I watched he seemed to shrink. And when he lifted his eyes he made no effort to hide his despair.
"Listen Cook," he said softly, "you pass the word. Peters is the lucky one. Peters is dead. Maria Green got sucked down the Pipeline an hour ago. If anything happens, if they touch a hair of her head, I'll have you. All of you! Every single incompetent in that division. I'll come looking for you with my bare hands, I'll come after you with a public enquiry, I'll have you drummed out, I'll drag your reputations through so much shit you'll never smell clean again. Your own families will shun you! People will spit on you! May your miserable, useless souls rot in hell for what you have done today!"
The whispered response of "yes, sir" came a second before Kaufman slammed the switch down on his telephone. He sat with his shoulders slumped, staring sightlessly across the room. Then he roused himself and crossed to the drinks tray. He moved with the purposeful clumsiness of a sleepwalker and spoke to me without turning round. "You say a goddamn word, Sam," he hissed, "and I swear I'll kill you."
Chapter Nine
Rosemary Parker still felt very shaky. She sat in the corner of the senior staff canteen and watched Harry Hall carry a tray across to her. The manager of the departmental store was talking to some uniformed policemen on the far side of the room, while half a dozen GPO engineers were unpacking telephone handsets on a nearby table. Then the door opened and Charles strode in, throwing anxious glances from side to side until he saw her. He hurried across, colliding with a policeman en route and almost falling over. Tears of relief sprang to Rosemary's eyes as she rose to greet him. But the strain made her dizzy and she clutched the back of the chair for support - then she was in his arms and he was holding her tight to comfort her.
"Maria ..." she managed to say, stifling the sob.
"I know, I know," he gave her an extra squeeze before lowering her back into the chair. Then he sat down next to her and took her hands in his.
Harry Hall set the tray down on the table. "You'll feel better after a nice cup of tea. Drink it while it's hot."
Charles lit a cigarette and gave her an anxious appraising look as he passed it to her. "It's all right, it's all right Rosie," he said gently, using the hated pet name, "take your time."
Harry Hall helped himself to a cigarette from the packet Charles had put on the table. His own hands were shaking as he put it to his mouth. Charles looked at him and said, "I've got the gist of it but you had better tell me again."
"No," Rosemary interrupted. Her voice quivered slightly and she took a long pull on the cigarette before continuing. "Let me tell you. It gives Harry another chance to check my story."
Charles squeezed her hand. He was reassured - there was nothing much wrong with Rosemary if she could insist on something like that.
"Not that there's much to check," she said quietly. "We went to the loo. Maria was in such a happy mood. We really had taken her mind off - off what was happening in London. Really we had Charles - hadn't we Harry?"
Harry Hall nodded. "She was very relaxed."
Rosemary continued. "We left most of the pattern books and stuff with Harry. He could see the entrance from where he sat."
Harry Hall nodded again.
Rosemary sighed and shook her head. "It was a typical ladies cubicles, hand-basins. Charles, two nurses were there, one was washing her hands I think. And I noticed a wheelchair just inside the entrance. Well I'd had three cups of tea and was dying to spend a penny...anyway I went into one cubicle while Maria went into another. Then, when I unlocked the door to come out...that's when it happened."
Charles lit his own cigarette and listened carefully.
"That's when it happened," Rosemary repeated. "This nurse barged in with something in her hand...the door banged back in my face, knocking me backwards - Charles she was so quick! One hand at the back of my neck while her other pressed something over my nose and mouth. The WC caught the back of my legs - I sat down and then ... then I was out like a light." She shook her head, "It was so quick ... I would never have believed ..."
Harry Hall sipped his tea and watched her over the rim of his cup.
"The next thing I knew," Rosemary continued, "was sitting on the floor with Harry squeezing a cold flannel down my neck. A wallpaper book was open near my feet and I remember wondering what a sample book was doing in a lavatory. Then Harry was wiping my face...and some stupid woman was making a fuss about him being there."
Charles stared at her, willing her to remember. She recognised the look for what it was but it just made her feel all the more helpless. "I'm sorry, I'm not helping much ... I don't even know if the nurse was blonde or brunette ... all I really saw was her outstretched hand with this pad-"
"Sanitary towel," Harry Hall corrected. "It was a sanitary towel soaked in chloroform. The whole place reeked of it."
"What kind of nurses' uniforms?" Charles asked. "Any insignia-"
"None that I saw," Rosemary bowed her head, "a nurse is a nurse. Grey dress, white bib and apron ... and capes, black capes." She paused, searching her memory, then added, "But an ambulance man came in as it happened. Two nurses - one attacked me and I caught sight of the other one behind her - just as this ambulance man came through the entrance."
Charles nodded: "How did you know he was an ambulance man?"
"He wore that sort of uniform - dark blue, or it might have been black. Peaked cap. There was some insignia on his shoulder. St John's Ambulance Brigade perhaps?" She looked at Harry Hall, then turned back to her husband, "I'm sorry, that's all I remember."
Harry Hall opened his notebook. "The entrance to the lavatory was on the fifth floor," he told Charles. "In fact it's a flight of steps down to the fourth. I found out since that you can obtain access to toilets on every floor - without negotiating a single step on even numbered floors. The manager says it's a boon to invalids."
Charles made no comment.
"We've pieced together what happened," Harry Hall continued grimly. "Two men dressed as
ambulance attendants commandeered a lift on the fourth floor. They held the doors open and refused access to public and staff alike, then two nurses arrived pushing a patient in a wheelchair. They went straight down to the basement car park where they wheeled the patient into the back of a white van." He shrugged, "Exit van, ambulance men, nurses and Uncle Tom Cobley an' all."
"Any positive ID of the patient?"
"Only one witness so far. The patient was wrapped in a red blanket but not so well hidden to disguise the fact that she was female and a brunette."
"It was Maria," Rosemary whispered.
Charles grunted. "And the white van?"
Harry Hall closed his notebook. "Two witnesses so far, both of whom say it was just a plain white van - not an ambulance."
"Make - registration number?"
Harry Hall pulled a face. "What do you think?" Then his attention was drawn towards the door. A number of men were entering the room. He groaned. "Here's Rossiter's crowd. I'd better go over and face them."
Charles nodded. "I don't want to make things even worse - but the Chief Constable is on his way over."
"Nothing could make things 'even worse'," Harry Hall said bleakly. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, then walked slowly across to greet the newcomers.
Rosemary clutched Charles's hand. "You heard about ... about Ray Peters?"
"I heard," Charles said grimly.
"And...and Maria," Rosemary whispered, pain showing on her face. "She was the nicest person I've met for ... oh, I don't know how long. Oh Charles!" Tears slid down her cheeks as she cried inside, noiselessly and helplessly.
Charles patted her hand. He turned away, watching the engineers unreel a cable drum down the far side of the room. But he watched sightlessly, his mind too full of another picture Llewellyn's film of that cellar in Milan. It was a bad day's work all round, Charles reflected sourly, but he was damn glad Rosemary had never been shown that.
Ian St James Compendium - Volume 1 Page 63