*
The phone had been ringing for some time when Maynard reached the small office he was using to check the personnel files. Reaching across the desk from the wrong side he quickly grabbed the receiver. “Maynard!” he snapped.
“Morning Henry! Caught you on the hop did I?” a voice said in a droll tone.
“Yes, you did rather Clifford. I was collecting some files from the other office,” he answered, recognising his old friend’s voice.
“So how are you getting on over there at Filton Henry, made any progress?”
“I was just collecting the last batch of files when you rang on the manual workers who work on the shop floor producing and building the aircraft, but up to now I haven’t come across anything that we should be concerned over. Once I’ve got them out of the way I’ll make a start on the clerical staff and see if that turns up anything. So how are things with our German bird – has there been any further communiqué from him since I left?”
“That’s why I’ve actually rung you Henry. Things have taken a turn for the worse at you know where. They had a visitor last night which had grave consequences.”
“How grave?” Maynard asked, pushing the office door shut with his foot while leaning against the desk.
“We have one of the guards in the mortuary, rather a nasty business,” Granville replied quietly.
“I see, that is serious, are the police involved?”
“Yes! The investigation is in the hands of a Chief Inspector Barrett, good man by all accounts when it comes to standard detective work but a little out of his depth when it comes to our kind of stuff. So I’d like you to go up there Henry and put Barrett in the picture as to what he’s up against. I’ll arrange for the police to pick you up there and take you up to the airfield. How soon can you be ready?”
“Say an hour, that will give me time to sort things out here and have a word with Sam.”
“Who is Sam?” Granville enquired.
Maynard began to chuckle. “Sam, or should I say Samantha, is a young lady from the personnel department who has been giving me a hand to go through the files. Don’t worry Cliff, she was the first one I ran a check on when it was proposed that she came and worked with me. She’s a bright girl and I’ve brought her up to speed as to what we are looking for. She can carry on going through the files until I get back.”
“Okay! As long as she doesn’t miss anything of importance?” Granville replied, irritably.
“She won’t do that. I’ll tell her to ring me straight away if she finds anything that’s out of the ordinary.”
*
It was early afternoon by the time Maynard reached Moreton Valence and was shown into a medium sized room that the police were using as an incident room. Introducing himself while shaking the Chief Inspector’s hand Maynard noticed how Barrett’s steely brown eyes held his as though reading his every thought. “Thanks for your help on this one Chief Inspector,” he said, hoping his friendly approach would break the ice and get Barrett on side, “We need to catch this character as soon as possible, how much has London told you?” he asked, taking off his overcoat and laying it over the back of an empty chair.
“Nothing! I was told to wait with my investigation until you arrived from Filton and you would put me in the picture as to what is going on, then afterwards give you all the police cooperation to apprehend this man. I have been told on the quiet that you are with MI5, is that correct sir?” Barrett asked, in a broad West Country accent.
Maynard gave him a shrewd look. “Yes that’s correct,” he answered, quietly.
“So is this incident last night to do with the new aircraft they have here?” Barrett asked, in a restrained voice.
Maynard nodded in acknowledgement. “Let’s take a walk shall we and I’ll give you the details of what we know so far.”
Barrett felt a touch of excitement to be working with Military Intelligence as he walked and listened to what Maynard had to say. German spies, espionage, all a far cry from the normal police business, he thought, as they reached the road that ran between the buildings that housed the new aircraft. “So you have no idea what this Raven chappie looks like?” he asked, as they waited for a slow moving vehicle to pass before resuming their walk.
“No, we don’t, and I must admit what we have on him so far is very sketchy but he is very proficient in everything he does. All we can say Inspector with some certainty is that he must be operating from somewhere close by and is lodging in a hotel, guesthouse, hostel, rented cottage, someplace where he is reasonably safe to transmit from without being discovered. Can you get your people organised to check out such places, let’s say within a five mile radius of the airfield,” Maynard suggested.
“Right! I’ll put that in motion as soon as we get back. So what do you want to see first, inside the hangar, or the place where the body was found? If so that’s the building over there to your left, the body was found in a shallow ditch behind the place. It looks like it had been dragged from where the killing took place, the soldier’s boots had left indentations on the ground and there were scuff marks on the heels.”
Maynard didn’t answer straight away but stood a few moments to take in the general layout of the place and the surrounding area and tried to visualize what line of approach the Raven might have taken to reach his objective. “Have you checked for any cuts in the perimeter wire?” he asked, trying not to sound as though he was telling Barrett his job.
“No, I haven’t, from the outset I was just treating it as an ordinary murder case. It was only after I was told to await your arrival and that you were from military intelligence that I realised it was more serious than I first anticipated, I’m sorry about that.”
“That's quite alright Chief Inspector, you weren’t to know. Let’s start with taking a look at the murder scene shall we and take it from there?”
The corner of the building had been cordoned off with red tape and the solitary constable on duty bade his superior ‘good afternoon sir’ when they arrived, to which Barrett responded by telling the constable to go and get himself a cup of tea.
From the outside of the taped area Maynard studied the crime scene, his eyes following the dead man’s boot tracks to the ditch where he was found.
“This is where he was killed, you can see the blood stains on the grass and his rifle was over there. It looks like the killer or the Raven as you call him heard him coming, hid around the corner of the building there and took the poor sod by surprise and knifed him,” Barrett suggested.
“But that’s quite a way from where he was killed, how do you explain that?” Maynard asked, taking out his pipe and filling it.
“Briggs, that’s the guard’s name, had two knife wounds, one to the base of the neck, the second in the heart which was the fatal one. It looks like although being seriously hurt Briggs must have tried to make a run for it and raise the alarm but was caught and stabbed a second time in the heart which finished him off. There’s also a large bruise on the right side of the body, most likely from being kicked.”
Listening carefully to what Barrett was saying, Maynard’s eyes were drawn to the window.
“So what’s behind this window Inspector?” he queried, ducking under the tape to take a closer look.
“Just a work bench with tools and accessories on it, paint tins, brushes, bottles, you know the kind of things, but the window was securely locked,” Barrett replied, gesturing to the two locks.
“Was there anything out of the ordinary on the inside when you examined it?” Maynard asked, and could tell by Barrett’s sudden expression that there was something he hadn’t mentioned.
“There was a broken glass jar on the floor. It looked as though it had been there a day or two so I didn’t think much of it with the window not being tampered with… So what are you thinking? That this Raven fellow has got in and out through the window and knocked over the jar?”
“Could be, but I’ll reserve judgment on that until we take a look inside. B
ut first let’s take a walk around the perimeter fence and see what that turns up, shall we.”
*
Wrapping his hands around a mug of steaming tea Maynard thanked the young W.P.C. for her trouble.
“Right! That’s all organised,” Barrett said, replacing the receiver and walking over to where Maynard stood pondering over a detailed map of the surrounding area.
“What’s that?” Maynard asked, without looking up.
“The checking of all hotels and so forth, I’ve got my people visiting all known places within a five-mile radius like you asked for; the trouble is without a description of this man it’s going to be a long shot as to whether we turn up anything,” Barrett replied.
“Yes, I know it is. But you never know Chief Inspector, it may just jog a guest or a proprietor’s memory. It could be they are uneasy about a guest who has a slight or foreign accent, staying in their room for long periods, coming and going at odd times, things they hadn’t thought too much about until they get a visit from the police. We caught one in London earlier this year after a tip-off by a landlord of a public house after hearing what he thought was, as he put it, a whistling sound coming from one of the bedrooms he rented out. To begin with he thought it was someone tuning in a wireless set but got a little suspicious when it happened at the same time over several nights. We kept the place under close surveillance for a time and it turned out it was someone we had been after for quite some time, so you see you never know what it might turn up.”
“Well, let’s hope so,” Barrett responded, knowing from past experience that detective work was never normally that easy. “So Mr Maynard what are your thoughts on what you have seen today?” he concluded.
Maynard sat down and commenced pushing down the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe with his index finger before lighting it, then sitting back he took a couple of puffs. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the Raven has achieved what he set out to do and that was to photograph the new jet fighter and it was handed on a plate to him. Easy access through a window with a broken pane, a building with no personnel working in it and an aircraft stripped of its engine coverings and last but not least a jet engine sat on a cradle, what more could an enemy agent ask for? I would think our German bird is feeling very pleased with himself at the moment… Very pleased indeed.”
“And Private Briggs’ murder?” Barrett asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Done on the way out I should say. Either Briggs saw the window open or he heard the glass jar break and went to investigate, but whichever way it was, the Raven had the advantage of both height and surprise and after the killing he had time to put things back as he found them, that’s why I’m convinced the murder was committed on the way out.”
There was silence for a few moments between the two men which was eventually broken by Barrett asking, “Where does that leave the investigation now?”
“Well, there is not a lot more I can do here now, so I’ll return to Filton and see if we can come up with anything there and leave you to carry on with your police work here. You have my number; will you keep me informed as to how your investigation is going? And I will of course do the same if we dig up anything new. But until we can get identification on this murdering sod I think we are both going to be running a little bit in the dark for the time being, don’t you?”
“Yes I do sir!” Barrett acknowledged, helping Maynard on with his topcoat and walking with him to the waiting car.
“You know Inspector, I’ve been convinced all along that the information we need to crack this case is at the Bristol Aeroplane Company, if we could just light on it,” Maynard concluded, shaking hands before getting into the rear passenger seat and closing the door.
“Let’s hope so, before some other poor devil gets murdered,” Barrett answered quietly to himself as he watched the vehicle disappear into the darkness.
Chapter Eight
TIREE looked to be a beautiful island from what Will had seen of it and that had only been from the air. But as autumn gave way to winter it was obvious that the weather was the main contender for both the ground and aircrew alike. Biting cold winds swept across the open expanse of the airfield bringing with it heavy rain, hail and occasional snow flurries. Will lay there in the dark listening to the steady beat of the rain against the windows and the constant moan of the wind as it tried to force itself in through a crack in the weather-beaten window frame.
He was down to fly today; it had been almost a week since his last flight and the encounter with the mysterious lighthouse; he hadn’t been convinced by the theory that it had been the reflection from a flash of lightning, he knew what he’d seen and it certainly wasn’t that. He felt warm and comfortable within the confines of the bed; slipping his arm out from under the blankets he looked at the hands on his luminous watch hoping it wasn’t time to make a move – five past three, plenty of time yet, he thought, as he snuggled down and tried to sleep.
Stracandra Island Page 6