by Ronald Cove
*
“Are yer tellin’ us that some bugger ‘as tried blowin’ up the ‘Eathway cinema?” DI Selby barked. “Well from what I can make out that’s about the size of it sir” DC Willis confirmed excitedly. “What, in broad bleedin’ daylight?” I broke in with. “Yeah that’s what I’m sayin’, and if we jump in the bleedin’ car now, we could be there in half-hour, and what’s more they reckon a couple of people saw this bleeder chuck some sort of explosive down an alley, and then just walk calmly away sir” Willis rattled off in that bloody machine gun like fashion, the way youngsters are inclined to speak these days. “Right, well don’t ‘ang about, come on let’s go” Selby commanded. “Ok Dave I’ll be comin’ with yer, and remember this, I’m MI5 which means yer do like I say, alright!” Plumpkin made his position abundantly clear.
*
It wasn’t until he, Martin, had slipped out of the Briggs River Plant gate and was halfway across the road heading towards Dagenham’s Telephone Cables Ltd factory, which stood almost opposite, that he heard three muffled explosions. A knowing smile caressed his face as he hurried on. Now approaching the TCL factory, he thought at first he might have to negotiate his way over a heavy gate into the factory yard. However he was pleasantly surprised, it was already open. So with no other obstacles encroaching his progress, Martin simply walked straight through the gate and into a small office which proudly displayed ‘Personnel’ on the door, where he found a young lady seated behind a rather large desk. On seeing Reg. Martin enter she stood to greet him with a well practised smile, then pulling a wool cardigan comfortably around her shoulders said “Oh I’m sorry love, you’re too late, all personnel staff have left. If you can come back tomorrow about 10am, you might be lucky, because we’re taking on more cable joiner assistants” she happily told him, on the assumption he was looking for employment. She then retrieved a bunch of keys from a desk drawer, removed a jacket from the back of her chair and stood to one side, waiting for him to leave. Being taken slightly aback by her reaction he nodded, thanked her for her trouble and moved as though about to leave, but instead as she leant forward to insert the key in the lock, he moved swiftly round her and delivered two vicious lightening-like karate chops, one each side of her neck. He quickly slipped an arm around her, preventing her from falling and banging against the door. After lowering her dead body to the ground, he stepped further back into the room, took both remaining grenades from his pocket, pulled out both pins, but still held both levers in place. He then walked over and opened an adjoining door that he assumed would lead straight into the factory itself, it was the sound of machinery that led him to believe this. He then released each lever in turn thus arming the two remaining missiles, he then rolled the penultimate grenade through this now open door, firmly closed it, and without hesitation placed the last grenade on his latest young victims desk. He then moved swiftly to the door of his original entrance, stepping over the young lady’s body as he went, made a quick exit and smiled to himself as two explosions occurred behind him. He began retracing his steps heading towards the Grange cinema, which in turn would lead him onto Heathway railway station.
23:
A BEARDED MAN OF DISTINCTION
As it turned out we arrived at Heathway station twenty minutes after leaving Hornchurch. Plumpkin immediately pushed his credentials under a police officers’ nose who’d been left on guard duty. He was then permitted to pass down to where some sort of devise had obviously exploded. Of course DI Selby and his faithful Sergeant Auger were also in attendance, having left DC Willis with our car. To start with Plumpkin began asking this friendly constable, who had taken it upon himself to escort us to this wretched scene, where we could clearly see a small crater coupled with one or two perforated dustbins lying about, “Now PC Hill” Plumpkin began “exactly what can you tell us about this little ‘argy bargy’?” “Well, what the forensic boys say, ‘some devious bastard must have lobbed a bloody grenade down this alley, then quickly pissed off’” PC Hill explained with practiced eloquence. “Oh I see, and that’s all yer can tell us?” Plumpkin probed. It was now obvious Plumpkin had run out of questions. That’s when DI Selby stepped in. “Look Officer Hill can you tell us, did anyone witness this happening?” he immediately asked. “Ah, funny you should ask that sir” PC Hill replied while lifting his helmet, mopping his brow with a clean handkerchief, after which transferring his attention to the inside of his helmet. “Yes man, go on” Selby urged. “Well sir, we’ve had several members of the public come forward stating they saw an old fellow sporting a beard and a heavy walking cane. Apparently he simply walked out of Heathway cinema and lobbed something down the bleeding alley” PC Hill stopped there and along with his three superiors lit a cigarette. Just to make my presence felt, I intervened with “So that’s all the information you can give then constable?” He looked at me as though I’d been thrown into the pot at some expense, as just another inconvenience he must endure.
Quite suddenly another thought seemed to float into officer Hills mind. “Of course all of the witnesses stated this old codger had long gone before any bloody explosion occurred” he rapidly expressed. Now it was Selby’s turn “Anyone hurt you know of?” Officer Hill now handed Selby the treatment he’d bestowed upon me, staring at Dave as though he should have known no-one was injured. “Well?” Selby persisted, showing signs of impatience. “No, not to my knowledge sir” came a short reply from PC Hill whilst shaking his head and replacing his helmet.
Plumpkin stepped in “Ok officer, keep up the good work” he said, glancing towards me with that same look in his eyes I’d first seen in 1916, when he’d decided to tag along with me charging across that bloody Somme killing field. “Look, I don’t know about yous two, but I’m fresh out of fags” Plumpkin stated on patting his coat pockets. “Ok, well follow me” I invited, and started across the road to the tobacconist which at that time stood alongside Heathway station. “There you are cock, in there” I pointed. However as Jeff made to walk through an already open shop door, he almost bumped into some old boy, who at that moment was in the process of blowing his nose with an extra large handkerchief which covered best part of the old codger’s face. Nevertheless Jeff moved nimbly around this old feller and with a smile apologised for his clumsiness in nearly flattening the poor old sod. In return he received a grunt of annoyance, but then needless to say, we entered into a flash back moment of a dear old Plumpkin we’d known in yesteryear, as he performed a fairy tread-light neat fantastic step around the old boy, caught his foot in the blokes heavy cane, and as we’d seen so many times before, went arse over tip, ending his excursion in an untidy heap cuddling the heavy walking cane. Of course Selby and myself being chief witnesses to this fiasco were, as you can imagine, creased over with laughter. Still regardless of Plumpkin’s predicament, his playmate quickly snatched up his cane and left the shop, pocketing his handkerchief as he went. This in turn offered us an unrestricted view of the mans’ face, which at once revealed a proud possessor of a neatly trimmed moustache and a beautifully shaped beard to match, which prompted DI Selby to remark “there me ol’ cock goes a man of distinction” and me, silly bugger Auger, thoroughly agreed “Yeah, the gents certainly got class alright”. I concurred. Then as in bygone days we set about lifting this brilliant MI5 agent Plumpkin, from an uncomfortable tangled position alongside a glass counter, to his feet.
*
Reg. Martin had hastened to retrieve his walking stick and quickly leave the tobacconist, violently cursing himself for getting tangled up with some idiot who had eventually tripped over Martins walking stick and gone sprawling into the shop counter, thus ending this unfortunate encounter. However it wasn’t just the ungainly antics this stupid man had performed, while his two companions stood by laughing, that had aroused his awareness, no what had caused this was that he had recognised the blonde-headed man who’d accompanied this clown, thereby catching him completely off guard. And although it wasn’t entirely his fault, Martin nevertheless c
onsidered it to be very remiss of him for allowing the situation to escalate in such a way. Yet after giving the matter some serious thought, he realised it would be highly unlikely for this blonde fellow to recognise him as the adversary he had encountered at Biggin Hill airfield when they first met, simply because he, Martin, had instantly smashed a tin hat into the blonde fellows face, and left him there throwing punches at nothing. Plus the fact, that since that first encounter, he Martin, now sported a growth of facial hair, which he had recently cultivated in order to change his appearance.
In any case Martin decided to vacate the scene altogether, and to this end stepped into Heathway railway station, where to his amazement he discovered two burly policemen checking each would-be passenger, as they first purchased a ticket then made their way towards the platform. He quickly pulled back out of sight, then slowly eased himself outside where he mingled with a substantial group of inquisitive diehards, who’d accumulated on the scene after the bomb exploded some time ago. Martin lingered while composing himself and contemplating his next move. After several minutes spent watching police cars, fire engines and the odd ambulance dodging here and there, he suddenly decided to brazen it out, reasoning that under the circumstances this, no doubt, would be his best option. He therefore entered Heathway station with a determined stride and confidently made to address the constable standing by the ticket office. However, Martin was slightly taken aback when the constable raised his hand before any words were exchanged, “Excuse me sir, you do realise you’re not carrying a gasmask,” he was again solemnly reminded. This meant Martin had to think fast ‘bugger it, bloody gas mask again’ he cursed inwardly, nevertheless regardless of the police officers obvious suspicion Martin went ahead and confidently purchased a ticket to Barking. Turning back to by now a very suspicious policeman he explained how he’d been in the cinema when the explosion had occurred, and everyone had been advised to leave as quickly as possible and in his haste he’d simply neglected to retrieve his gasmask, which he was sure would still be where he’d left it. Martin also humbly thanked the constable for his concern and assured him he would nip straight over and claim the gasmask forthwith.
On entering a somewhat damaged cinema foyer, Martin made a snap decision by asking a dishevelled usherette if anyone had come across a lost gas mask. “Oh darling, you’re in luck, there’s three of those bloody contraptions hanging on that door over there” she pointed. Martin made an exaggerated show of selecting the right apparatus, just for the girls benefit, thanked her and left. Back at Heathway railway station he strolled straight past a now far more relaxed policeman, while holding a little brown cardboard gas mask box on high, and pleasantly indicating to the officer he’d found it, then quickly disappeared down the steps onto the platform.
24:
WHERE DID HE GO?
We’d left DC Willis sitting in the car opposite Heathway Station sometime earlier, although we’d found out later when he picked us up, that he’d been ordered away from the scene. Having driven the bloody thing halfway around the houses, ending up in a place called Rugby Road, Becontree, which was some distance away. And all this in order to be well clear of the danger zone where a bomb had exploded some time ago at Heathway cinema. However on returning to us and now pulling away from outside the tobacconist, Willis turned to DI Selby with raised eyebrows, at the same time nodding to Plumpkin and me who were then lounging on the back seat. “I suppose you’ll all wanna visit Briggs Motors and that Cables place now?” he enquired offhand. Plumpkin and Selby both looked stunned, but Selby got in first with “Why?” “Oh blimey sir, ain’t you ‘eard, both places ‘ave been bleedin’ nobbled, and some wicked bastards murdered a young office bird, some sort of receptionist I think, anyway on top of that the cheeky bleeder chucked a couple of bleedin’ bombs around in Briggs and a couple more in that Cables place” Willis rattled off. There followed a stunned silence “Jesus Christ why the bloody ‘ell wasn’t we informed sooner?” Selby stormed in pure frustration. “Well I don’t know sir, I only just ‘eard it me bleedin’ self, ‘twas on the radio as I was coming to pick you up” Willis came back with his brilliant defence. “Well, when the bleeden’ ‘ell did all this ‘appen?” Selby then wanted to know. “I’m not sure, must ‘ave been late last night or a little while ago, any case was after Heathway cinema copped one sir” Willis informed us. “Can’t ‘ave been last night, we’d ‘ave ‘eard about it before now” Plumpkin broke in.
“Well whatever, I’ll drive yer straight to Briggs River Plant, it’s where it all began, so they say” Willis hyped up for effect. After a minute or two, DI Dave Selby turned to me “Look Bill, when we get there, you and glamour boy ‘ere” he nodded at Willis ‘ave a word with one or two of the locals, they invariably know something that would take us a couple of bloody weeks to discover” he explained to me. I in turn gave him a half grin “Ok Dave” I said, knowing exactly what he inferred. You see, some time ago, Dave and I had discussed this problem of police investigating a crime. We’d both agreed that in most cases where a crime’s committed, it’s the people living in that particular area who will invariably, if asked the right questions, ultimately point the investigating team in the right direction. Which of course can be confirmed by our old Ford Road incident, where the old lady who thought she was being gassed, put us onto an RAF man creeping about at night, and this quick-witted clever little DS, yours truly, could have grabbed that bugger a few days later had it not been for a miscellaneous tin helmet. In any event by the time Willis anchored our car outside Briggs River Plant, a small crowd was in evidence, so for the benefit of this crowd, DI Selby and Plumpkin put on a supreme show of confidence when entering the River Plant gate. As for me, I latched on to Willis and quickly briefed him on what sort of person we were after netting “You know, the ones who can’t stop talking” I told him. “I’ve gotcha Bill” he replied. So we began our quest to wheedle out one or two of the most promising individuals.
Sometime later, DI Selby pushed his way through a somewhat riotous crowd, cottoned onto me, saying “‘Ere Bill, would yer believe, whoever it was apparently lobbed a couple of bloody grenades through a small window, completely destroying two Bren gun carriers and rendering a conveyor belt practically useless in the bargain”. Dave passed this information over as though the war would be lost because of it. I gave him a casual look and for the want of something better to say simply muttered “Christ” and left it at that. Suddenly Plumpkin materialised “Blimey Bill, some bugger caused a bit of bleedin’ chaos in there” he informed me, while indicating with his thumb back where he’d come from, and thereafter taking and lighting a cigarette I’d offered him.
*
Martin alighted from the train at Barking station, then booked a further ticket to London, where he had eventually been able to arrange a lift back to Warlingham. He’d already decided to keep away from his place of lodgings for the time being. So to this end found for himself a local park bench where he could have a quiet smoke and relax awhile.
However, it was whilst smoking he reprimanded himself concerning a couple of factories he’d overlooked when in Dagenham, for instance ‘Ever Ready Batteries’ and ‘May & Baker chemical factory’. Was at that moment Martin promised himself he would make a special trip back to Dagenham in order to rectify this mistake. In the meantime, he realised by now the Military Police along with Special Branch no doubt, would be searching for him along with that British over rated MI5 bunch. He therefore had a quick change of mind, and now considered the sanctuary of his lodgings would offer him a far better degree of safety, and hopefully would also afford him a pleasant evening in Sally’s bed.
Reg. Martin entered his lodgings with trepidation, listening for any unusual sound, while slipping his front door key safely back in his coat pocket. This time he refrained from calling his landlady’s name, mainly because the house seemed so quiet and unwelcoming. Regardless of this he began to wonder, could Sally already be entertaining someone, and with this thought in min
d, he shuffled silently down the hallway and began to ascend a narrow staircase. However on reaching the top step, Martin became aware of a light shining through a gap at the bottom of Sally’s bedroom door. He cautiously moved forward, silently opened her door and was amazed to see Sally sitting in bed brushing her hair with the top half of her body completely naked. He also noticed two American air force uniforms carelessly thrown over two chairs. At this point a pang of jealousy overcame him, nevertheless by this time Sally had seen him and was frantically motioning for him to leave. He looked at her with a frown, then nodding at the uniforms raised two fingers whilst mouthing the word ‘two’? She answered with a swift nod of her head and another desperate plea for him to leave. She also indicated by pointing, that they were both in the bathroom next door and wouldn’t be long. Martin very softly closed Sally’s bedroom door, after which he made his way along this dismal upstairs landing to a spare room at the far end. He knew Sally always kept this room locked, nevertheless he also knew where she kept the key, which was in fact, in full view, reposing on a small tea trolley which stood on this dim landing.