The End Game

by Michael Gilbert

  “Perhaps you would and perhaps you wouldn’t,” said Morgan. He had come in quietly through the unlatched French windows. He looked brown and thin, but seemed cheerful. “However, it doesn’t arise. Because you won’t be in any position to carry out your threats. And the people who might have carried them out for you won’t feel inclined to do so. Not once you’re inside.”

  Blackett had not taken his eyes off David from the moment he had come into the room.

  “It’s all right,” said David. “This is me. David Rhys Morgan, the great escaper. The original india rubber man. Now, if you’ve finished trying to frighten Susan—which I assure you is almost impossible—let me put you briefly in the picture. At eleven o’clock this morning your friend Trombo started writing out a statement. I’m told that it took him a full hour, but he had a lot of ground to cover. He was dealing with the disappearance of one Arnold, or Arnie, Wiseman.”

  He stopped as if inviting comment.

  “Nothing to say? I’m surprised, because, according to Trombo, you instigated the whole thing and have been paying him a regular fee ever since to keep his mouth shut. For other services, too, of course. But what may be news to you is this. Before they finished Arnie off, the boys got him to make a statement in writing, explaining just how he’d manoeuvred you into an awkward corner. One imagines he made the statement in the hope of saving his own life, but it didn’t do him a mite of good, because, before the ink was dry, he was strangled and buried in Epping Forest. The police have already located the remains and are happy they’ll be able to identify them by the dental work. Arnie’s statement, coupled with the papers which I handed over early this morning—damp, but still legible—give them the whole story and so, not to put too fine a point on it, you’re for the high jump.”

  Blackett said, “They wouldn’t—they couldn’t—” and then seemed to lose the grasp of what he was going to say.

  David said, “Don’t fool yourself. It’s open and shut. The charge will be conspiracy to murder. Your motive is established. The star prosecution witness will be the man who carried out your orders. The only doubt is how long you’ll get. The betting at the moment is seven or fifteen, with a slight shade of odds on seven, but I shouldn’t bank on it.”

  David looked at his watch.

  “Some visitors will be arriving shortly. The Chief Constable, Chief Superintendent Morrissey and one or two stalwart constables. They should be here in about ten minutes. You’ll have things to arrange before they cart you off, so we’ll be on our way.”

  He walked across to the window. Susan followed him. Blackett said nothing. As they crossed the lawn, the motor mower swept past them. It was driven by a boy who looked as happy as if he was taking a racing car round Brands Hatch.

  As the noise died across the wide space of the lawn, Susan said, “Will he—?”

  “Kill himself?” said David. “Of course he will. That’s what he’s been given ten minutes to do. Save a lot of trouble.”

  “But will he?”

  “When it’s a matter of exchanging all this”—David indicated the house and garden asleep under the autumn sun—“for a ten-foot-by-six cell with a homosexual in the bunk underneath. Being shouted at by warders and bullied by the other prisoners. They like to have a gent to take it out of, I’m told. Slopping out every morning and jam twice a week if you’re good. Of course he will. I could see him making up his mind to do it before we were out of the room.”

  “Would you mind—?” said Susan.

  David looked at her in alarm and got an arm round her.

  “Can you hold up for about twenty yards? The car’s behind that hedge over there.”

  “I’ll be all right in a moment. Stupid of me. It’s just that I’m not quite as cold-blooded as you seem to think.”

  “And when I’d been building you up as the original iron lady.”

  He kept his arm round her until they reached the hedge. Harald was standing beside the car. David said, “Don’t do anything you might be sorry about afterwards.”

  Harald said, “Why not?” and took a light step towards them. He looked like a boxer advancing into the ring.

  “Two reasons,” said David. “First, because a car load of top coppers will be here in a few minutes. Second, because you’re needed up at the house. Badly needed.”

  They heard the sound, distant but unmistakable, like, but not quite like, the slamming of a door.

  Harald turned and started to run back towards the house.

  “Section 54,” said Abel. “I’d more than a suspicion that it might be. It was about that time the Selangor Rubber Estate case was on, so naturally it would have been in Arnie’s mind. A company giving financial assistance for the purchase of its own shares. You follow me?”

  “No way,” said Morrissey.

  Abel was smoothing down the four stained and battered papers on the table in front of him with loving fingers.

  “A company minute, appointing Arnie Wiseman a director of Argon. A service contract for Arnie, on pretty generous terms. A contract under which Arnie loans Blackett one hundred thousand pounds to be used in buying out Harry Woolf. And here”—Abel held up the document in triumph like a surgeon who has just fished out a difficult appendix—“is the key to the whole thing. A charge on all the assets of Blackbird to secure the loan. You appreciate that under Section 54—”

  “No,” said Morrissey. “Don’t explain it. He’d done something he didn’t ought to have done. Right? So what was the penalty?”

  “That’s just it. It’s the only section of the Act which carries criminal sanctions. If you commit a deliberate breach of Section 54 you can be sent to prison. Even if it only meant a heavy fine and a ticking off by the judge, it would have finished Blackett in the City.”

  “And that gave Arnie a handle to squeeze him.”

  “Certainly.”

  “So Blackett got hold of his old acquaintance from Jap prison-camp days and said, ‘Throw a scare into Arnie.’ Instead of which Trombo first winkled a written statement out of him and then finished him off. Thus putting Blackett in his pocket.”

  “All he’d done,” said Abel, “was change paymasters.”

  “And now that Blackett’s dead, we’ve got Mr Trombo where we want him.”

  Abel looked at him in some surprise. He said, “If you try to use that confession, won’t he say you got it out of him by promising him an indemnity?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Well, then—”

  “No need to use his confession. He’s not going to be charged with killing Arnie Wiseman. The charge is the murder of Dennis Moule. We don’t need any confessions for that. We’ve got enough witnesses to prove it six times over.”

  “But I thought you promised him—”

  “People sometimes don’t listen careful enough to what’s being said to them. Particularly when they’re scared. The only promise I gave Trombo was that I’d give him an indemnity for any part he took in removing Wiseman. I didn’t say nothing about Moule.”

  Abel took some time to think this out. Then he said, as though he had suddenly seen the light, “Then it was Trombo you were after all the time, not Blackett.”

  “Wrong,” said Morrissey. “I was after both of ‘em.”

  “Good God. David!” said Gerald Hopkirk. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just dropped in to look up my old friends,” said David.

  It was five o’clock, and the offices of Martindale, Mantegna and Lyon were beginning the business of closing down for the night.

  “Nice to see you, anyway.”

  “I hear Sam’s in trouble.”

  “He’s not exactly in trouble. He’s up at Scotland Yard with his solicitor, protesting against their efforts to get their hands on Blackett’s private papers. He says that Blackett was never actually charged with anything, and suicide isn’t a crime, anyway.”

  “If I was Sam, I wouldn’t bother,” said David. “Blackett’s dead. His empire’s disintegrating. He
wasn’t a very worthy citizen.”

  “I don’t know,” said Gerald. “Private enterprise and all that. England needs a few Blacketts, in my view. I didn’t know him well, of course, but he asked me down to his house last week, and I thought him nice enough. Did you ever meet him?”

  “Once,” said David. “Very briefly. Come and have a drink. I’ve found a lovely little place, just off Cornhill.”

  “Well—”

  “Then we can go back and have dinner at my place. Susan was saying only this morning that she’d like to see you again.”

  “You’re back with each other, then?”

  “Certainly. Like I told you. These things never last long. After a bit we both realise what we’re missing. An armistice is declared. Until next time.”

  “Well, then—”

  “A celebration is called for. We’ll get Fred to come along, too. And look who’s here! Would you care to join us for a drink?”

  Miss Crawley gave him a look of loathing and scuttled off.

  “On the whole, just as well,” said David. “I have a feeling she wouldn’t have added to the gaiety of the occasion.”

  Michael Gilbert Titles in order of first publication

  All Series titles can be read in order, or randomly as standalone novels

  Inspector Hazlerigg

  1. Close Quarters 1947

  2. They Never Looked Inside alt: He Didn’t Mind Danger 1948

  3. The Doors Open 1949

  4. Smallbone Deceased 1950

  5. Death has Deep Roots 1951

  6. Fear To Tread (in part) 1953

  7. The Young Petrella (included) (short stories) 1988

  8. The Man Who Hated Banks and Other Mysteries (included) (short stories) 1997

  Patrick Petrella

  1. Blood and Judgement 1959

  2. Amateur in Violence (included) (short stories) 1973

  3. Petrella at Q (short stories) 1977

  4. The Young Petrella (short stories) 1988

  5. Roller Coaster 1993

  6. The Man Who Hated Banks and Other Mysteries (included) (short stories) 1997

  Luke Pagan

  1. Ring of Terror 1995

  2. Into Battle 1997

  3. Over and Out 1998

  Calder & Behrens

  1. Game Without Rules (short stories) 1967

  2. Mr. Calder and Mr. Behrens (short stories) 1982

  Non-Series

  1. Death in Captivity alt: The Danger Within 1952

  2. Sky High alt: The Country House Burglar 1955

  3. Be Shot for Sixpence 1956

  4. After the Fine Weather 1963

  5. The Crack in the Teacup 1966

  6. The Dust and the Heat alt: Overdrive 1967

  7. The Etruscan Net alt: The Family Tomb 1969

  8. Stay of Execution and Other Stories (short stories) 1971

  9. The Body of a Girl 1972

  10. The Ninety-Second Tiger 1973

  11. Flash Point 1974

  12. The Night of the Twelfth 1976

  13. The Empty House 1979

  14. The Killing of Katie Steelstock alt: Death of a Favourite Girl 1980

  15. The Final Throw alt: End Game 1982

  16. The Black Seraphim 1984

  17. The Long Journey Home 1985

  18. Trouble 1987

  19. Paint, Gold, and Blood 1989

  20. Anything for a Quiet Life (short stories) 1990

  21. The Queen against Karl Mullen 1992

  Synopses (Both Series & ‘Stand-alone’ Titles)

  Published by House of Stratus

  After The Fine Weather

  When Laura Hart travels to Austria to visit her brother, vice-consul of Lienz in the Tyrol, she briefly meets an American who warns her of the mounting political tension. Neo-Nazis are stirring trouble in the province, and xenophobia is rife between the Austrians who control the area and the Italian locals. Then Laura experiences the troubles first-hand, a shocking incident that suggests Hofrat Humbold, leader of the Lienz government is using some heavy-handed tactics. Somewhat unsurprisingly, he is unwilling to let one little English girl destroy his plans for the largest Nazi move since the war, and Laura makes a dangerous enemy.

  Anything For A Quiet Life

  Jonas Pickett, lawyer and commissioner of oaths is nearing retirement, but still has lots of energy. However, he leaves the pressure of a London practice behind to set up a new modest office in a quiet seaside resort. He soon finds that he is overwhelmed with clients and some of them involve him in very odd and sometimes dangerous cases. This collection of inter-linked stories tells how these are brought to a conclusion; ranging from an incredible courtroom drama involving a gipsy queen to terrorist thugs who make their demands at gunpoint.

  Be Shot For Sixpence

  A gripping spy thriller with a deserved reputation. Philip sees an announcement in The Times from an old school friend who has instructed the newspaper to publish only if they don’t hear from him. This sets a trail running through Europe, with much of the action taking place on the Austro-Hungarian border. The Kremlin, defectors, agitators and the People’s Court set the background to a very realistic story that could well have happened …

  The Black Seraphim

  James Scotland, a young pathologist, decides on a quiet holiday in Melchester, but amid the cathedral town’s quiet medieval atmosphere, he finds a hornet’s nest of church politics, town and country rivalries, and murder. He is called upon to investigate and finds that some very curious alliances between the church, state and business exist. With modern forensic pathology he unravels the unvarnished truth about Melchester, but not before a spot of unexpected romance intervenes.

  Blood & Judgement

  When the wife of a recently escaped prisoner is found murdered and partially buried near a reservoir, Patrick Petrella, a Metropolitan Police Inspector, is called in. Suspicion falls on the escaped convict, but what could have been his motive? Petrella meets resistance from top detectives at the Yard who would prefer to keep the inspector out of the limelight, but he is determined to solve the mystery with or without their approval.

  The Body Of A Girl

  Detective Chief Inspector Mercer is called to the scene when a skeleton of a girl is found on Westlaugh Island in the upper reaches of the River Thames. What appears to be a straightforward and routine investigation, however, leads to unexpected events and a string of unlikely characters, including a lawyer and a one armed garage proprietor. Nothing seems to fit together and it seems the sleepy town holds many secrets. The finale involves two nights of dramatic violence and it isn’t until this stage is reached that the twisted truth finally emerges.

  Close Quarters

  It has been more than a year since Cannon Whyte fell 103 feet from the cathedral gallery, yet unease still casts a shadow over the peaceful lives of the Close’s inhabitants. In an apparently separate incident, head verger Appledown is being persecuted: a spate of anonymous letters and random acts of vandalism imply that he is inefficient and immoral. But then the notes turn threatening, and when Appledown is found dead, Inspector Hazlerigg is called in. Investigations suggest that someone directly connected to the cathedral is responsible, and it is up to Hazlerigg to get to the heart of the corruption.

  The Crack In The Teacup

  Barhaven is on the south coast within commuting distance from London. It is, however, a fairly sleepy place and it seems incredulous that it could be the kind of town where the local councillors could manage to line their own pockets. However, there is something odd about the borough engineers behaviour, and it seems strange that the owner of the local amusement park is unknown, and the Town Clerk himself is acting peculiarly. Enter a young lawyer, who finds himself at the centre of a major campaign against racketeering. The public and the press become involved and it ends with a twist that is totally unexpected.

  Death Has Deep Roots

  This is a detective and trial story with a complicated plot that will grip the reader.
Victoria Lamartine is on trial for the murder of her supposed lover, whom she is accused of having stabbed. There are only five suspects including Lamartine. But evidence that doesn’t fit the police theory of the crime has been ignored, whilst all of the damming evidence is presented in isolation. Intriguingly, whilst the murder was committed in England, all of the suspects somehow have a past connection with France and its wartime underground. However, there now appears to be links to gold smuggling and it is not immediately clear how all of the different pieces of evidence fit together. As always, Gilbert neatly takes the reader to a satisfying final twist and conclusion.

  Death In Captivity

  A suspected informer is found dead in a collapsed section of an escape tunnel being dug in a prisoner-of-war camp in Italy. So as to protect the tunnel the prisoners decide to move the body to another that has already been abandoned. But then the fascist captors declare the death to be murder and determine to investigate and execute the officer they suspect was responsible. It therefore becomes a race against time to find the true culprit and Captain Henry "Cuckoo" Goyles, a former headmaster, master tunneller and sometime amateur detective takes on the case.

  The Doors Open

  One night on a commuter train, Paddy Yeatman-Carter sees a man attempting suicide. Intervening, he prevents the man from going through with it. However, the very next day the same man is found dead, and Paddy believes the circumstances to be extremely suspicious. Roping in his friend and lawyer, Nap Rumbold, he determines to discover the truth. They become increasingly suspicious of the dead man’s employers: the Stalagmite Insurance Company, who appear to hire some very dangerous staff.