by Jim Eldridge
Stark dropped down and crawled to the next tree nearer to where he hoped the gunman was. He was halfway to the tree when there was a shot, and dirt and grass flew up just in front of his face. Immediately, he fired two shots in rapid succession. At the same time, Noble opened fire, a volley of bullets hammering into the darkness. Stark thought he heard a cry, and then a thud.
He waited, listening, then he ran forward, gun pointed, zig-zagging as he moved, just as he had done so many times as he ran from trench to trench across mud, stepping on the bodies of those who’d fallen. This time there were no mutilated bodies of fallen comrades, no barbed wire or thick mud to obstruct his run, and he almost stumbled over the dead body sprawled on the ground beneath a tree. The pistol had fallen from the man’s hand. The man lay on his back, and in the darkness Stark recognized him as Herbert Jolly.
He heard footsteps behind him, then Noble joined him.
‘Classy shooting,’ murmured Noble. ‘You or me?’
Suddenly, with its engine roaring, a car hurtled towards them from the direction of the garage, its headlights momentarily blinding them as it headed towards the main gates. Stark saw that the gates had now been opened. Stark ran towards the car, letting fly with his last shot, but his bullet ricocheted off the windows. So Glenavon had used bulletproof glass.
There was a burst of gunfire from the car and Stark felt a bullet tear at his sleeve, and he automatically dropped down. Then the car was gone, out through the gates. There was the sound of shooting from beyond the wall.
Amelia! thought Stark, alarmed.
He ran to the open main gate. No shots were fired at him. Half turning, he saw Noble following him.
Stark burst out into the street. The two cars they’d come in had been parked just outside the back gate, and both were wrecked, their windows shot out and the tyres flat. A figure was lying in the road, and as Stark ran towards the cars he saw Danvers scramble to his feet.
‘Lady Amelia?’ burst out Stark.
‘She’s in the car,’ said Danvers.
The rear door opened and Barney stumbled out, gun in hand.
‘Amelia!’ called out Stark.
‘I’m all right, Paul!’
Stark felt a wave of relief wash over him as he heard her voice.
‘The car came past us like a bat out of hell,’ said Danvers. ‘Barney was putting a bandage on Lady Amelia and I was keeping watch. I got a shot in, but the bullets just bounced off. Bulletproof. Then they opened up as they went past. It was the tyres that did it. We couldn’t go after them.’
‘Hitler got away?’ asked Noble.
‘He did,’ said Stark.
‘It might have been a decoy, sir,’ suggested Danvers. ‘He might still be inside.’
Stark shook his head. ‘I saw the way Hitler reacted. Trust me, he didn’t want to waste any time in getting away.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘I’ll put out an alert for all ports and airports,’ said Stark. ‘But it’s my guess he arrived by private plane. In which case, we need to get Glenavon to tell us which airfield he used.’
As Stark headed back to the main gate and the house, Barney called after him, ‘When you see Fred, will you tell him what’s happened with the cars? He’ll know what to do.’
Inside the house, he came across Fred and Eric coming out of a room carrying bundles of files and papers.
‘What are those?’ he asked.
‘We were asked to bring in every bit of paper we could. Especially whatever was in the safe,’ said Fred.
Of course, thought Stark. Churchill. ‘Where’s Glenavon?’ he demanded urgently.
‘Dead,’ said Fred.
‘Dead?’
Fred nodded.
So, no chance of finding out which airfield Hitler would be using.
‘Our two cars outside are wrecked,’ he said. ‘Barney said you’d know what to do.’
Fred nodded. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll make a phone call.’
‘After I’ve made mine,’ said Stark. ‘I’ve got to put out an alert to try to stop Hitler getting away.’ A thought struck him. ‘What about the cook and the servants?’
‘Joe and Pete are looking after them in the drawing room,’ said Fred. ‘We’ve tried to reassure them that we’re not going to harm them, but I don’t think they believe us.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t you worry about them, sir. They’ll be taken care of.’
‘Not in the same way Lord Glenavon was, I hope,’ said Stark acidly.
‘No, they’ll be fine. Innocent civilians,’ said Fred. ‘Hurry up and make your telephone call, sir, so I can make arrangement for us. We don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.’
FORTY
Stark sat in the waiting room outside Churchill’s office, reading the report in The Times of the previous night’s action. According to the paper, police had been called to Red Tops, the home of Lord Glenavon, following reports of shots being heard.
Police officers discovered the dead bodies of Lord Glenavon and Edgar Cavendish, an American film producer.
Detective Chief Inspector Stark – who played a heroic part in saving the life of the King during the recent assassination attempt – was summoned to the premises and soon ascertained that the culprit appeared to be a German man who had been staying at Lord Glenavon’s home. This German had apparently fled the scene and is now being hunted by the police. At this stage few details are known about the suspect.
The report continued in this vein but contained few actual details. There was no mention of the dead bodyguards or the wrecked car. No mention of Amelia.
Stark picked up the Daily Telegraph and the Daily Sketch which had been left on the table. Both of them carried only the barest of details in their ‘Stop Press’. Again, they both went with the story that a German man had shot dead Lord Glenavon and Cavendish, and had then fled and was being hunted. None of the newspapers named him; he was just an anonymous German.
The front of the Daily Target consisted of a picture of Lord Glenavon, which filled the whole page, with the banner headline ‘Lord Glenavon slain’. Inside, where the story expanded, there was no mention of a ‘German killer’, nor of Stark being called into investigate. Mainly, it was a eulogy for the life and work of Lord Glenavon.
A young man in a black coat and pinstriped trousers appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. ‘Mr Churchill will see you now, Chief Inspector.’
Churchill was studying the newspapers as Stark entered. He put them aside and gestured Stark to a chair. ‘You missed the bastard,’ he growled.
‘You gave orders for them all to be killed,’ accused Stark.
‘If a rat sneaks into my house, I don’t negotiate with it. I kill it before it infects the whole house.’
‘I could have arrested them!’
‘But you didn’t! Hitler got away! And if you had caught him, what would you have got him for?’ demanded Churchill. ‘Illegal entry? Then what? Deported?’ He shook his head. ‘The man is dangerous, Stark. I said so before. He needs to be stamped out. This was our opportunity. Unfortunately, you missed it.’
‘And Cavendish and Glenavon?’
‘Dangerous men. Traitors. In Glenavon’s case, not enough evidence to go to trial. And Cavendish would have gone back to America.’ He shook his head. ‘Johnny Fairfax deserved to be avenged.’
‘What about the papers your men took? I presume they were lists of prominent people associated with the BUP?’
‘Papers better in my care than in anyone else’s.’
‘Your men knew exactly what they were after, and where to look. They knew where his safe was. I’m assuming you must have been a guest at Red Tops some time.’
‘Once or twice. It’s always wise to check out the opposition.’
‘There is a corruption within the police service that goes right to the top. Those papers will include the names of superintendents and inspectors who are part of a conspiracy to replace the legitimate government of this country with a f
ascist dictatorship.’
‘Possibly part of such a conspiracy. Many of them are well meaning, well intentioned. The trick is to sort out the wheat from the chaff. Who is really a danger to this country, and who might see reason.’
‘You’re forming your own cabal. Top policemen. Top people in the military.’
‘Any politician worth their salt seeks out alliances within the structures that run a country. Without that, you have anarchy.’
‘You used me.’
‘You forget, Chief Inspector, you came to me. You got what you wanted. Lady Amelia freed. Cavendish and Glenavon’s threats to you and your family neutralized.’ He tapped the file. ‘And I think I can assure you that any other threats to you and your family from that quarter will be nullified. And I hope you agree that is something I can achieve more effectively than you.’
Stark studied Churchill thoughtfully. The man was right. Churchill was the ultimate politician. A man who did deals. At heart, though, he shared Stark’s principles. There were some he wouldn’t do deals with – dangerous bigots such as Hitler, or Cavendish and Glenavon.
He nodded and got to his feet. ‘Thank you, Minister.’
Amelia was lying on a settee when Stark arrived at her home. She started to get up as he followed Mrs Walker into the room, but Stark waved for her to stay where she was.
‘How’s the leg?’ he asked.
‘Forget my bloody leg, come here and kiss me!’
Stark sat down on the edge of the settee, studiously trying to avoid bumping against her bandaged leg.
‘For God’s sake, I won’t break, Paul!’
‘But your leg …’
‘Is sore, but that’s all.’
She pulled him to her and kissed him hard. ‘God, I’ve missed you! Why didn’t you come back with me last night?’
‘It was more important that you got medical treatment.’
‘Yes. Who was that? Some mysterious doctor. No name given.’
‘Someone Churchill knows, I expect. He seemed to be the one pulling the strings.’
‘They were going to kill me – Glenavon and Cavendish.’
‘I know. That’s why I came for you.’
‘Were Bobby and the American chap …’
‘Donald Noble.’
‘Yes. Were they all right?’
He nodded. ‘I’m seeing them both later today.’
She gestured towards the day’s newspapers. ‘I see you’re the only one that gets a mention,’ she commented. ‘Are they building you up as some kind of hero?’
‘I did lead the rescue,’ he pointed out.
‘Yes, but it’s not very fair to Agent Noble and Bobby, is it?’
‘I think Agent Noble will prefer not to have his role in the action publicized. He’s working undercover for the American government, remember.’
‘And Bobby?’
‘I will make sure that Sergeant Danvers receives proper recognition,’ he assured her.
‘You sound so stuffy!’ she laughed. ‘How long are you staying?’
‘As long as you’ll let me. Stephen and my mother won’t be coming home until tomorrow.’
‘Then take me to bed,’ she whispered, hugging him close.
‘But what about your leg?’ he asked.
She bit his ear. ‘I’m the lover of a great warrior,’ she teased him. ‘I feel no pain.’ And she laughed. Then she added, ‘But if you’re not feeling up to it …’
He put a finger to her lips to silence her, then lifted her up from the settee and carried her to the door.