Murder on the Rocks (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 7)

by P. J. Thurbin

  The Inspector sat back and sipped his tea. It was silent, apart from the ticking of a large clock on the wall that Ralph had not noticed before. The two men avoided looking at each other. Ralph knew that he had not fooled Linham for one second. But at least he now had an opinion which he valued. The Inspector put his cup back in the saucer and pushed it to one side. He leaned forward.

  “Look Professor, I don’t know who this friend of yours is, but I have a terrible feeling that he’ll go ahead with it anyhow, if as Sergeant Wilson would say, it’s his M.O. He sounds like the sort of chap who’ll dive right in, especially when a moral issue or a principal is at stake. By the way, if this man is married, what does his wife have to say about all this?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think she knows,” Ralph hedged.

  “Well you tell him to go straight home and tell her. Just make sure she knows she needs to keep it quiet. Those boys at MI6 can play very rough. People just disappear: a street accident, an overdose, a trip followed by a fall from a bridge or high building, you name it. They might look nice in their suits and old school ties and speak very posh, but believe you me, alongside some of them Genghis Khan would pass as a choir boy .”

  It was now becoming a bit embarrassing. He knew that he had put the Inspector in a difficult position, so Ralph thanked him and told him he would pass along his advice to his friend. Linham wished him good luck.

  ***

  That evening he went to see Katie. He had decided that Linham was right. Katie would be better off knowing the dangers of getting mixed up with MI6 and the consequences if any of this leaked out and was traced back to them. Although the more he thought about it, between what Stigart had told him, and what Inspector Walters had spoken about in Gibraltar, there was not much that he felt was anywhere near a National secret, apart from the fact that Stigart was with MI6 and had infiltrated an arms smuggling network. He could see how that might be classified, but none of it was information that a good investigative journalist could not find out. If that happened, Ralph knew that the government would need to get a gag order from the Court if they hoped to keep it out of the public domain.

  After Katie heard what had happened, initially she was annoyed with Ralph for getting up to what she termed a school boy escapade. But she recognised the gravity of the situation and listened while he set out the pros and cons. She thought that the advice that Linham had given him was sound.

  “In the final analysis you have to follow your conscience. It seems to me that whichever way you jump there are consequences. But knowing you, you’ll go ahead and do it no matter how much longer the list is on the side that says ‘no’ if you feel that you could help stop a group of thugs from terrorising people or keep that slimy Sparini from making a fortune out of it. I just hope you have enough sense to leave off the heroics. If Stigart is setting it all up then he’s bound to have the police or whatever they call the MI6 enforcement people called and it’s their job to deal with the dangerous stuff. Do you agree?”

  Ralph agreed with what Katie said in principle, but he doubted that when you got right down to the crunch it would be that straight forward. Sparini knew that he and Katie were a couple and Ralph had no doubt he would use her as leverage. That meant that whatever he decided to do could expose Katie to danger as well. He suggested that it might be best if she ducked below the radar until it all blew over. Perhaps a trip to Australia or a short sabbatical. Katie reminded him in no uncertain terms that she was not about to risk her new job and everything that she had worked for to regain some credibility in the academic community just so he could go off and play Captain ‘Bulldog’ Drummond. She told him that University College London had opened up a new set of opportunities for her and she was not about to throw them away.

  She told him that she had made some new friends there and that she enjoyed her new colleagues and that they valued her as an educator. She reminded him how difficult it had been for her to get her career back on track after her misguided and failed attempt to save her former husband from terrorists landed her in Holloway, and that she had no attention of abandoning it now.

  “And besides, Ralph, you need a lot of looking after,” she said as she tried to lighten the tone of what they both new was a deadly serious conversation, “and if I go trotting off to Australia whose going to make sure you toe the line.”

  They both sat there thoughtfully until she broke the silence.

  “Ralph, I don’t know if this is just a coincidence, but Maria telephoned me this morning. She told me that she’s in London and asked me if I’d join her for lunch tomorrow at the Savoy Grill. I‘ve already accepted, but now it’ll feel pretty awkward, knowing what you’ve just told me about Sparini and what a despicable character he is.”

  Ralph assumed that Maria would be checking Katie out to see if Ralph had told her anything about Colonel Stigart’s plans. He was a hundred percent certain that he could trust Katie not to say anything. He thought it best not to complicate matters by telling her even more. They chatted on for a while, but Ralph had to get back to Kingston for a lecture and Katie had a Paper to polish up that she had been preparing for an upcoming seminar. Katie walked out to the street with him while he flagged down a taxi to take him to Waterloo Station so that he could get a train back to Kingston. As one pulled over to the curb she reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and they agreed to meet up later in the week.

  The following evening Ralph was at home relaxing and listening to Mozart in his study when the ringing of the telephone interrupted his reverie. It was Katie. She told him that the luncheon date with Maria never materialized and that Maria had not even called to explain why she had not turned up.

  “I waited another hour before I finally telephoned her office in Milan to see if there had been some sort of emergency and if she was all right. They told me that Maria’s father had been taken ill and that she had to go back to Spain. But it’s a bit odd, don’t you think? She would have had plenty of time to telephone from the airport to let me know,” Katie said.

  “She was probably just worried about her father and it slipped her mind,” Ralph said.

  What he really thought was that Sparini may have found out that Maria worked for MI6 and had silenced her. He said nothing to Katie about his fears.

  ***

  Ralph had continued thinking about why he wanted to get involved with Colonel Stigart and MI6. Was it really because he wanted to help stop a terrorist group that might harm innocent people or did he have a more personal reason for wanting to expose Sparini and others of his ilk that he felt were a scourge on society? Or, and Ralph feared this most of all, was it because he wanted the accolade of being a good guy or even being seen as a hero?

  Ralph knew that he needed to think through his real motivation if he intended to put himself and Katie at risk. And even if he concluded that some higher moral principle was at stake, how could he be sure that it was any different from whatever drove Colonel Stigart, or Eta or even Roberto Sparini, for that matter. On the face of it, Stigart acted out a sense of duty to Queen and Country, Eta fought for what they viewed as their rightful autonomy from Spain and the Count was driven by greed and power. Ralph knew that things were never that black or white. If he were honest, his own views were always in the grey zone. Undoubtedly theirs were, too.

  He pushed back his chair and looked at his watch. The college was quiet. Classes were finished for the day and there were no evening sessions running. He looked into Janice’s office and everything was neat and tidy. Her chair was pushed in under her desk and a cloth had been draped over the tea tray, ready for the morning. Perhaps he was just making things too difficult. Maybe it was simply a question of going to work, doing your job and then going home to play with the kids, go to the pub or watch TV. He jumped as someone knocked on the outer door.

  “Ralph. I thought I might catch you. Fancy a beer before you make your way down the hill?”

  David Walker, Professor of Jurisprudence in the Law Scho
ol, had been a good friend over the years. He was a respected member of the College and the academic community and was known for his skills at arbitration and managing people.

  “I was just wrapping things up here,” Ralph said as he grabbed his briefcase and shut the office door. They chatted as they walked along to the College bar.

  “Busy over there at the law school?” Ralph asked. The law and business schools were in the same faculty, but they had a different focus, and consequently a different criterion for assessing excellence.

  “The usual. Two meetings and an exam board. You know what amazes me are the excuses. I had at least five students who had failed by a big margin. Loads of excuses from their tutors including an argument that the students were not working hard enough. And can you believe it one of my colleagues said the students were not bright enough these days. Nothing about the tutor having failed to impart the knowledge, oh no. I tell you Ralph, it’s becoming a farce and the worst of it is that people like you and I are playing the lead parts.”

  “And getting paid for it,” Ralph reminded him. “Let’s go and get that beer. And if you’re up to it, I’d like to bounce something off you.”

  “After sounding off about my frustrations, it’s the least I can do. Mary is having some of her friends around for a bit of a natter this evening, so that gives me a good reason not to rush home.”

  The college bar was unusually crowded and David waved to some of his colleagues as he and Ralph found a quiet spot over by the windows that looked out over the trees towards Kingston. Ralph bought two beers and brought them over.

  “That’s good. I needed that,” said David. “You said you had something you wanted to toss around. So what did you have on your mind, Ralph?”

  “It’s about values and motives. And were they in fact the same thing?”

  David sat back and frowned.

  “Go ahead. But try not to edit too much out. I might teach Jurisprudence, but sometimes common sense and plain English works a lot better,” he laughed.

  Ralph explained that in trying to separate motives from values he believed that you had to make judgements about the action that a group might take in progressing what they saw as a cause. He couched his concerns in general terms and avoided saying anything about Sparini or Stigart. David, as promised, let him finish. His friend paused and took a sip of his beer.

  “At the bottom of all of this I detect that you are angsting over the question of Nationalism. As you said Ralph, it’s a bit more than good guys and bad guys. And I think that’s what’s bothering you. Sure there are individuals who get caught up in actions that so called Nationalist groups take. People do what they think is right and then they justify their motives for taking action. In a civilised world the default mechanism should be to talk not fight. As Churchill put it, Jaw Jaw not War War.”

  He knew David was right. If Stigart and the decommissioning process would lead to talks rather than war and killing, he wanted to be a part of it. Sparini was nothing more than an opportunist who wanted to make money out of the whole affair. He had to be stopped.

  “Ralph, there’s a wonderful quote from Oscar Wilde. He said that the only difference between a whim and a solemn vow is that the whim lasts a little longer. You have to think through: what’s the pay-off and what’s the penalty. And as my Dad used to say: “there’s nought wrong with that lad.”

  They chatted on until they eventually agreed that it was time close up shop and go home. Ralph felt a lot more relaxed as he switched out his bed side lamp.

  ________________________

  C hapter 10

  “Ere we are, guv’ – 4 St James Square. Always gets me, those columns. Someone must be ‘avin a joke.” Ralph paid off the taxi driver and stood looking at the imposing entrance to the In & Out Club. The writing on the two flanking columns of the portico of the house had the words ‘In’ on one and ‘Out’ on the other. It was an acknowledgement to the club’s previous premises at Cambridge House in Piccadilly which had prominent signs on the building’s separate vehicle entrance and exit gates marked ‘In’ and ‘Out’. He had heard that Cambridge House, where the Club had previously been located, was now being developed as a single dwelling and would become the most expensive house in London, valued at over £250 million. The current premises, at St. James Square, had been opened less than 20 years ago but the house dated from the 17th century and still contained many original features from the early 19th century. Colonel Stigart had phoned ostensibly to ask Ralph to meet him there to discuss some ideas he had for a setting up a sailing school in Gibraltar.

  Ralph recognised that the conversation was a cover for more serious talks. There was always the chance that the phones were bugged.

  Ralph had been a member of the Club back when he was serving as a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy Reserve. He recalled that in those wild bygone days his life had been a lot more straightforward. Belonging to an officers only club, as it was back then, that had distinguished members such as Robert Falconer Scott, the explorer, T.E. Lawrence, Rudyard Kipling and Commander Ian Fleming, latterly of Bond movie fame, had given him a connection to the past and provided him with a sense of continuity and purpose, and possibly a bit of celebrity by proxy status. The receptionist showed him to the private room that Stigart had booked so that they would not be seen or overheard. Stigart was already there.

  “Good of you to come at such short notice, Ralph. It’s not quite so comfortable as my yacht, but it will have to do. We could hardly meet at Petworth after your last grand entrance,” he laughed.

  They settled down in the snug oak panelled room whose key features were the tall shuttered windows that overlooked the busy street and the ceilings framed by a magnificent moulded cornice. The Colonel poured some coffee that the Club had laid on.

  “I’ll get straight to the point if I may. Things have moved more quickly than we had anticipated. It appears that Count Sparini has twigged that we had put one of our people in his organisation. I told you about Maria Campio when we last met. Well, now we seem to have lost contact with her and I’m afraid she could be in some difficulty. But she did manage to tell us that Sparini has had some top level meetings with his backers and some of the key players in the network and he may be on to something big. We don’t have names, but we do know that yours has figured in their discussions, although just how, we aren’t sure. Unfortunately that’s all we have. This is where we need your help, assuming you’re still with us?” He said as he sipped his coffee. Ralph knew that it was not a question.

  “I’ll do what I can.” It was the reply that Ralph had rehearsed in his mind on the way to the meeting. After his talk with David he felt better about his motivations about getting involved in what might turn out to prove a high risk operation.

  “Good man. We want you to get Sparini to come to London and meet you here at the Club on the pretext that you’re interested in his job offer but need to talk through some of the details. We’ll have this room bugged and will be keeping a close eye on things.”

  “But how will that help if we are only discussing the job offer?”

  “We know that Sparini meets with some of the key figures in his network when he’s in London. Maria told us that he’s very security conscious. She has never managed to get sight of any of his papers because when he’s in Milan he keeps them in the safe in his office. Our only chance to get a look at them is when he’s travelling but he never lets them out of his sight. We need names, places, contacts and details of the deals they’re involved in with arms dealers and distributors. We know that he runs a big transport operation that includes everything from ships to planes and trucks, and he’s bound to have some of that information on him. We also know that he uses his business operations as a convenient cover for trading drugs for arms. It won’t incriminate him directly but it could lead us to the big players in the European network and in Africa, Morocco and Pakistan. If we can get evidence that he’s in contact with and helping to fund terrorist organisations o
r of supplying them with arms, then we have him. When he’s away from his office he has those papers with him at all times. We’ve been trying to lay our hands on them for more than two years.”

  “So what exactly are you saying? That you want me to try and steal these papers from him while we’re sitting here having a nice chat and a coffee at a London club? You must have other ways you could achieve that without going through all this palaver.”

  “No, of course not. Your job is just to get him here. We’ll do the rest.”

  “But surely I’d need a stronger reason to ask for a meeting in London than just to talk about the job. It all sounds a bit weak to me.”

  “We’ve thought about that. We want you to tell him that you have some papers that the University has asked you to discuss with him about possible further collaborations. New buildings over and above what he has already approved with your Dean Granger.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  The Colonel just looked at him and Ralph realized he was being naïve. This was MI6. It was their job to know what was going on. Especially if it was in any way connected to one of their operations.

  “We are an intelligence service, Ralph, and we have contacts, sometimes in the most unlikely places. It’s not all about bumping people off in dark alleys. Perhaps you’ve been watching too many James Bond movies,” he laughed.

  Ralph thought about the ‘stay behind cave’ that he and Katie had been locked in. Now, as he considered Miles Stigart, and the arms trading in Tangiers and the dead man on the rocks, Ralph thought it was a damn sight closer to James Bond than he liked. Stigart was about to light a pipe when he remembered the Club’s ‘no smoking’ rule. He put it back in his pocket and continued.

  “We’ll provide you with a set of papers that will purport to be from the University about the development proposals. All you’ll need to do is talk to Sparini briefly about them; that and a few words about the job offer should allay his suspicions.”