Invisible Foe

by Ronald Cove

  After kindly helping me to my feet, my long lost friend had a go at me for rushing through an open door like some bloody school boy, or words to that affect. Then before we’d been given a chance to ask, he hurried into a tale of how he’d been lost in Delville Wood some twenty-four years previously. “What happened” he began “was you lot ran down into a bloody gully, but me soppy sod I was so engrossed watching to see where the bloody ‘ell you lot would all come out, and of course I wasn’t paying attention to where I was bloody going. On trying to dodge round a shell hole, would you believe, I slipped and the bloody ‘ole swallered me up. I ended at the bottom with two big bleedin’ Germans for company, the buggers stayed with me all the way back to a bleedin’ Boche prison camp. So there, that’s my bloody story” Plumpkin rattled off in double-quick time. Selby and I just stood there dumbfounded. “Well I’ll be buggered” I put in at length, then Selby chipped in with “Ah, that accounts for why we couldn’t find you. Me and Bill ‘ere searched every inch of that bloody wood”. “Yeah, we see yer go down, but couldn’t find no trace of you anywhere, so naturally after that, we assumed the worse” I added with a shrug. Plumpkin stared at me for a moment, then his gaze turned to Selby. “So yer came ‘ome, joined the bloody police force and completely forgot about yer ol’ mate I suppose” Plumpkin complained. “No, not at all me ol’ mate, ‘avin’ this job means we can from time to time make discreet enquiries,” I tried reassuring him. Then for no reason at all added, “Of course we ‘aven’t bothered lately”. Plumpkin’s face parted in a wide grin. “Oh, I see, thank you very much” his words danced back to me. That’s when all the hugging, laughing and back-slapping began.

  We offered our sincere apologies to the poor old cleaning lady. Selby I noticed slipped her a one-pound note, and ordered a constable to help the old girl get reorganised. After giving Plumpkin our address and directions on how to get there, I told him he could call on us any night for a drink. Now with DC Willis accompanying us, with the both of us still nursing sore heads and still sporting a clean white bandage each around our barnets, we were driven by Willis round the corner to the Stanley Road crime scene.

  12:

  A FRUITFUL NIGHT

  By the time the bogus Cpl: Fletcher stepped off the District line train at Bow Road underground railway station, he was beginning to feel the twinge of butterflies fluttering about in the pit of his stomach. However, he realised this was a sure sign of an adrenalin rush, which could only have been brought about by the forthcoming events he was looking forward to putting into action. Having obtained six medium-size torches from the YMCA and placing them in a small briefcase, along with two boxes of Swan Vestas red top matches, plus twenty Woodbines, all accompanied by a couple of large jars of Brylcreem that famed hair cream which the RAF boys favour, and consequently led to them being tagged with the mantle of the Brylcreem boys. Neatly hidden in each jar was two medium-size bolts with a nut to fit. The Corporal handed his ticket to a lady porter, at the same time enquiring if he could board a train from here directly through to Dagenham and was sharply told ‘yes, from the opposite platform’.

  The corporal going into the role of saboteur hurried from Bow station, headed straight across the main road, graciously waited while a mounted constable walked his horse out through the police station stables gate and down onto the main road, which would eventually take man and horse parallel with the Mile End Waste market.

  After negotiating his way through and clear of Tom Thumbs Arch, he next found himself in Tredegar Road. Then the bogus RAF corporal immediately started cursing furiously on realising he was now completely lost, which left him no option but to enquire from a passing police officer exactly where the Old Ford Road was situated. The policeman eyed the RAF corporal

  with lingering suspicion, then eventually said “Well now, this ‘ere is Tredegar Road, now if yer go straight on down to your right, yer should pass Parnell Road on your left, keep going past Fairfield Road which will be to your right, then Old Ford Road will be straight in front of yer” the policeman concluded while still eyeing the bogus corporal with obvious suspicion. “Thank you officer” the corporal replied with a friendly smile and was grateful the officer asked no questions of him. However, once alone he began to have doubts, by asking for directions he had openly compromised himself. So should he for instance have tried to lure the policeman away to somewhere quiet and somehow silenced him, but then of course, that would have presented him with the problem of disposing of a body in broad daylight, or alternatively he could postpone this operation and wait for another time. Although for a moment at one point it seemed as though the policeman showed signs of suspicion, Fletcher nevertheless chose to disregard this policeman’s attitude because in his experience police forces of every nation suffer with the same suspicious affliction. So he simply ignored this up-keeper of the law’s attitude and concentrated on his forthcoming evening's work.

  *

  As it transpired it took Constable Len Taylor exactly eight and a half minutes from Tredegar Road to the Bow Road police station. He at once reported on a suspicious character he had encountered and engaged in conversation, and was convinced the man was up to no good. A description of said man, and where he was most likely to be found was sent to all stations.

  On entering 22, Stanley Road this time, both Selby and I were a great deal more cautious. We examined each room of the property in turn. Of course as DI. Selby had surmised, the body of Daniel Ross had already been removed from the crime scene. Nevertheless two constables remained on duty guarding the premises. One of these constables had made a point of obtaining photos of the crime scene from the Laboratory, he handed them to Selby, alas they were of a limited amount of value to us.

  However, his mate whose name was Ken Charles, put forward quite an interesting theory when he suggested that Danny Ross was in fact himself an enemy agent, and the sole purpose for him being here, had been to mislead the Essex police into thinking that the Hornchurch aerodrome was the enemies prime target. Up till now he’d served his purpose very well. At this point Constable Ken Charles was cut short by a tap on the door, which swiftly opened and a head with a tin hat stuck on it whipped around the door jam, and a voice sung out “DI. Selby and your Sergeant are wanted urgently back at the station by the Super”. Selby looked at me, raised one eyebrow, I smiled back at him, and announced, “Must be bloody serious Dave”. To which he answered with a quick nod back at me, then turning to officer Charles said, “Thanks officer for your enlightenment on the subject, very interesting, I will keep you in mind young man”. After which we both departed.

  Back at the Police Station Dave stated “Yer know Bill it wouldn’t surprise me if that PC. Charles has got the whole bloody thing sewn up”. To which I could only agree. Anyway as we walked on through the station Dave was handed a note by a very smartly dressed sergeant, which turned out to be from the superintendent himself, and read as follows ‘DI. Selby, you and Sgt: Auger must leave immediately for Bow Police Station, this is an urgent request from Bow, so be sharp about it’ at the bottom of the message was scribbled the signature of the Romford’s Assistant Chief Constable Richard Allan. After reading the note, Selby folded it and stuffed it in his coat pocket, then said “Right Bill, we won’t ‘ang about ‘ere. We’ll ‘ave lover boy Willis drive us to the train station, catch a train straight through to Bow” he rattled off. Once in the car he added to Willis “right me ol’ dream boat, the railway station quick as yer bloody can”. DC. Tony Willis responded with “Right Sir”. On entering the station Selby told DC Willis to return the car to the Police Station car park, then catch a later train and join up with us at Bow Police Station. “Will do Sir” Willis replied before giving us a friendly wave as he drove away.

  *

  After spending Saturday afternoon in Victoria Park, and now settled on an inconspicuous park bench, the bogus RAF Corporal assured himself that all the torches contained new batteries and could be relied upon to last at least forty eight hours,
which would include one complete night. Having completed this task he moved on to his next devious device. He removed the nuts and bolts from each jar of Brylcreem, made sure they were both wiped clean of any excessive cream, he then placed four red match tops into a rather large nut, then carefully screwed a matching bolt either end, making sure to leave a hairs width of space between match head and bolts, so that when the contraption hit the ground, it automatically forced the bolts to ignite the match heads, which in turn would cause a small flame which may hopefully cause a large fire.

  Now with everything tucked away safely in his briefcase, the saboteur began a nice easy stroll to the Old Ford Road. Nevertheless, he realised the match factory lay further away from the few shops situated in the middle of Old Ford Road, so therefore it would be just as easy for him to cut into the Old Ford Road at the park end, and on into the Roman Road by way of Parnell Road, then through to Tredegar Road and cut back out onto the other end of Old Ford Road. However as it happened, after some twenty minutes walking, he found himself in Clayhall Road where he stopped just long enough to ascertain exactly where the Old Ford Road was now situated. On further investigation, he discovered by simply crossing over at the end of Clayhall Road, he then in fact would be standing in the Old Ford Road, but now at the far end, in other words just five minutes walk from the Bryant & May factory, his prime target.

  13:

  LATE AGAIN

  DI. Selby and I had an agonising three and a half minute wait on Hornchurch station before a straight through train from Upminster to Bow appeared. We made ourselves comfortable in the first carriage, both relaxing with a cigarette. “‘Aven’t got a bloody clue what this is all about Bill, any ideas mate?” Selby enquired as the train rattled through the dusk of evening on its way to Bow. “Well according to the grapevine Dave, apparently some copper spoke to a fella in Bow who he reckoned was a bit dodgy, and the description he gave of this bloke matches that of the bugger we’re looking for” I Informed a puzzled DI. Selby. This statement resulted in Dave blowing two perfect smoke rings in my direction, Dave shook his head and mumbled “Yer know Bill, this bleedin’ case gets more complicated each bleedin’ day”. Two more smoke rings drifted my way. He gave the subject a moment’s thought, another smoke ring floated towards me. I coughed and fanned away the smoke signals that were dancing about in front of me. He then leant forward “It makes yer wonder just who the bloody ‘ell we’re ‘unting for,” he growled, then glared straight at me and added, “You got any bloody idea who it is?” I silently shook my head “If I knew mate we wouldn’t be lookin’ for the bugger now” I replied after a moment.

  As the train pulled into Plaistow station we sat waiting for the doors to open. I suddenly realised it was one of the older trains we were now on, so jumping to my feet I rushed over and opened the bloody door myself to get a drop of fresh air before the train went underground, then immediately heard the blast of an air raid warning. I at once slammed the door shut, walked back to my seat and moaned to Dave. “There yer are mate back in bleedin’ London, and we’ve walked straight into another bloody bomb display by ol’ fritz. Would yer believe!”

  *

  It took the bogus RAF corporal roughly five minutes to discover Spring Street and Summer Street which just lay off the Old Ford Road, practically opposite Clayhall Road. As he entered Spring Street a piece of waste ground presented itself. He quickly positioned two of his torches, which were angled in such a way as to be hidden from the sight of the residents in Springs and the adjoining Summer Street, yet still directed towards the Bryant & May match factory. He then moved on, decided to leave the Old Ford bus station, instead he crossed over the road, slipped smartly into the gate of an adjoining factory, which apparently produced round cardboard milk bottle tops, where he very cleverly arranged two more torches, once again slightly angled toward Bryant & May. Once satisfied, he stealthily negotiated his way through the Bryant & May gates and there quickly scraped a small hole in the ground, switched on one torch, planted it halfway down the hole, and painstakingly smoothed the earth around it. This one however, he had made sure to position in an upward stance. He then quickly nipped out of the gate back onto the Old Ford Road, only this time heading in the opposite direction towards Tredegar Road. On turning into Tredegar Road he hopped over a small fence belonging to the first house, where he found an ideal spot to position his final torch, which once again he directed towards Bryant & May. In the distance he could now hear the first wailing of an air raid siren, so hurried on to the Bow Road underground where he boarded a half-empty train for Upminster.

  *

  We arrived at Bow twenty minutes after leaving Plaistow. The reason for the long delay we put down to the number of times the bloody train stopped, in order to let enemy aircraft clear the area, because the flashes caused by the electric line could be clearly seen by enemy aircraft. Anyway by the time Dave and I nipped out of Bow Station, dashed across the Mile End Road and crashed through the police stations heavy door, I reckoned at least ten bloody bombs had exploded nearby, and with so many anti-aircraft guns in action and dozens of bloody searchlights bouncing around the sky, we were as you can imagine only too grateful to reach the sanctuary of the big safe building.

  Once inside the station, we found half of the bloody Bow constabulary mingling about in the stable yard, all watching our searchlights as they tried to lock onto one of the enemy aircraft, without too much bloody luck, I might add. These officers seemed to have no bloody fear of all the bombs and shrapnel from shells that were jumping about in abundance, but suddenly a voice in pure cockney yelled “Oi, you two new blokes from Hornchurch, yer wanted in ‘ere, look bleedin’ sharp”. Selby and I both turned to see if we could discover which of the numerous back doors this bloody voice had come from. We finally pinpointed it as the door that lead off a narrow corridor which followed into a row of holding cells. “Blimey, he sounds like a bloody ‘appy bugger Bill,” Dave said with a smile, while standing to one side to allow me to go first. I declined to answer or to accept his offer, instead I bowed and indicated that he as the senior officer should lead the way. “Thank you, you bleedin’ peasant,” he told me with a friendly dig in my belly.

  On arriving at the front desk, Dave enquired of the desk sergeant “Who was doing all that bloody shouting about two blokes from Hornchurch wanted bleedin’ sharp?” The desk sergeant stood up straight, head high, but his face went as red as a beetroot. “Ah, yes well, I’m sorry about that Sir, but it was the Super you see, he told me to say ‘Tell them buggers to look bleedin’ sharp’,” there DI Selby cut him short with a wave of his hand “That’s alright sergeant, just tell me why the rush?” he asked in a friendly tone. The sergeant, relaxed slightly, yet still looked uncomfortable. “Oh, well the reason for that Sir is because Constable Taylor has been told to hang around until you got here Sir, and explain to you exactly what he can about this RAF corporal he spoke to earlier today in Tredegar Road” the sergeant informed Selby. “Ah, now I see Sergeant, so where is this officer Taylor?” Selby enquired. “Yes well as to that Sir, you should find him four doors down, just on your right, along there Sir,” he said, at the same time indicating which door he meant. “Ok, right thanks Sergeant,” Selby began, then after a short silence he turned to me and continued, “look Bill, you cut along, see what this Taylor bloke has to say for ‘imself, while I’ll nip.” Whatever else Dave was about to say both me and the desk sergeant would never know, because at that very moment all the back doors of the station flew open, and for a second or two there was complete silence. Suddenly a gale-force wind, which after knocking the three of us off our feet, seemed to sweep through each room in the building, there then followed the loudest explosion I’ve heard since that Somme fiasco in 1916. Anyway Dave bounced to his feet like a rubber ball “You two alright?” he quickly asked, then instantly added “that one landed amongst them silly sods out in the stable yard”. Having made this morbid statement Dave darted through one of the now wide open back doors,
the sergeant and I closely behind him.

  However, what we expected to see was in complete contrast to what we actually did see. For apart from the fact that one or two of these amateur aircraft spotters were now standing about with one hand covering one ear everything seemed perfectly normal. That is, if you can call searchlights dancing across the sky, anti-aircraft guns doing their best to ruin the ozone layer, and bombs jumping about everywhere, normal. I turned to the sergeant “Why are them silly sods ‘oldin’ their ears?” I enquired in puzzlement, but before the sergeant could speak Dave answered my question. “Well that’s bloody obvious yer dopey diner, yer see them silly bleeders copped the blast in that ear they’re ‘oldin’, when the bloody bomb exploded” he enlightened me in his usual confident manner, in an effort to make me look twice the fool I was! “Oh I see” I meekly replied. Dave shook his head in despair “never mind Bill, some of us know and some don’t” he told me. He then went on to say “That really was weird though, I could ‘ave sworn that last bomb exploded out ‘ere in the yard”. Seeing as he was senior partner in our team I simply agreed with him as usual, then he started in once again “anyway Bill let’s go see what officer Taylor has to say”

  As it happened what Taylor told us sent me and Dave rushing out of the Bow police station down towards the Old Ford Road. On account of him saying he believed this dodgy RAF corporal was down there, to amongst other things cause some mischief in the vicinity of the Old Ford Road area, and of course my parents still lived in Old Ford. So, like the two ex-riflemen and London detectives we were, and now are, we both went as shadows through the night.