The Day of Disaster

by John Creasey

  Hershall turned abruptly. ‘I wanted to see you, Hammond. Loftus has told me all there is to know about you, or all he knows.’ The keen eyes twinkled. ‘Anyhow, I like what I can see, and you’ll want to hear this. Go on, Loftus.’

  ‘Craigie saw Mr. Hershall late last night, Bruce. There were two things that he learned—first, that you were right about the manoeuvres; they’re due on or about the twenty-first.’

  Hammond nodded.

  ‘The other is a conference of some importance, which——’

  Hershall snorted: ‘Some importance! Infernal understatement, Loftus; it’s of immense importance. I see I’d better do the telling.’ Quickly, without a word wasted, he outlined what he had said to Craigie, adding the names of the men whom he expected to be at the conference, and that it was not yet decided whether Crayshaw’s Dorset home or Cavendish’s Hertfordshire one was to be used.

  ‘And what of Muire, Uppingham and Cator?’ asked Hammond.

  Hershall said: ‘Cator is a serious loss. I wasn’t too satisfied with the others, but Cator and Crayshaw between them were going to get them into action on the scale I want. Crayshaw will be badly upset. They were practically his only friends, and the friendship was based as much on business as anything else. They’re all in engine manufacture, but you’d know that.’

  ‘Would you mind telling me just how close your friendship is with Crayshaw?’ asked Hammond.

  Hershall eyed him narrowly.

  ‘Ye—es. I’ve been waiting for that. Not a talkative nor a demonstrative man, Crayshaw, but at my suggestion he had plans for converting his factories to war output, had large quantities of machinery on the stocks to get into operation as soon as war started. He is a man that I can rely on, but whom I could never get close to—d’you follow me? He was the same, even as a boy. I haven’t seen much of him lately——’

  ‘What does “lately” mean, exactly?’ asked Hammond.

  ‘The past month or so,’ answered Hershall.

  As he spoke Marion came in with a fresh pot of tea. The Prime Minister watched her as she poured out, accepted a cup with a smile, and turned to Hammond.

  ‘Well?’ asked Hershall abruptly.

  ‘Well,’ said Hammond, speaking with the hesitancy of one measuring his words, ‘we have to face up to it.’

  ‘Face up to what?’ barked Hershall.

  ‘If Craigie was kidnapped because he’d been to see you, the kidnappers knew he’d made the visit, and more or less what you had told him.’

  ‘Now, come,’ said Hershall a trifle impatiently. ‘What did they think? That as Craigie was taken off I wouldn’t tell his assistants?’

  Hammond said doggedly, ‘I don’t think you’ve quite followed my reasoning, sir. When did you tell Loftus?’

  ‘An hour ago, I suppose.’ Hershall paused, and then went on quickly: ‘All right, I see what you mean. It caused a delay of fourteen or fifteen hours.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hammond. ‘The delay was important; they wanted to do something during that time. Has anything been done to your knowledge?’

  ‘Go on, go on,’ said Hershall. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you made any arrangments in the last twelve hours?’ asked Hammond. ‘About the manoeuvres, or the venue of the conference?’

  ‘No,’ said Hershall.

  ‘That’s queer,’ mused Hammond. ‘I would have thought—but it doesn’t matter, sir. I could never collect thoughts as quickly as I’d like to! You might be interested to know what has happened here,’ he added, and looked at Marion again: ‘Have you got your notes?’

  Hershall looked through them with keen interest.

  ‘Hm. Precious young woman, Miss Crayshaw.’

  ‘Very much so,’ said Hammond wryly. ‘We’ll have to make sure that she’s not harmed.’

  ‘We’ll have to warn Crayshaw, although the Throgmorton Street crime will put him on the alert,’ said Hershall. ‘Of course——’ he paused, tapping his thumb against his saucer, ‘I knew about his difficulties with Hilary. Felt very sorry for him. Children are always an anxiety, but she’s been rather more than that.’ He stopped tapping, and snapped: ‘You haven’t any direct suspicion of Crayshaw, have you?’

  ‘If the circumstances asked for it, I would suspect you,’ said Hammond quietly.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Hershall. ‘I’m not going to tell you your business, Hammond, but Crayshaw——’ he paused. ‘We’ve been life-long friends, a thing to remember. No man has put more into the war effort; haven’t a better war-horse in the country. The man’s produced prodigious results, prodigious. You should know that.’

  ‘I had an idea,’ admitted Hammond with a smile. ‘But he’s concerned somehow, sir. The man Ferdinand was planted on him, his daughter was deliberately induced to take drugs; she might well have helped Ferdinand to get information. I’d say that it was likely that most of the Crayshaw production figures have reached Berlin, piecemeal, if not en masse.’

  ‘Uncomfortable thought,’ said Hershall, ‘but not necessarily convincing, and even if it were, they were not a vital secret. Total production would not be known.’

  ‘No,’ said Hammond quickly, ‘but total production, past, present and prospective, will probably be discussed at the conference?’

  ‘It will,’ said Hershall. He stood up abruptly.

  ‘There’s no point in my staying longer,’ he said. ‘Don’t get up, Loftus! Both of you know that I’m expecting results, and I don’t mind how you get them.’ He paused, to give added weight to those words. ‘The only thing I shall mind is if I don’t. Good luck, Hammond.’

  Hammond preceded him to the door.

  In the hall the two special branch men, who followed the Prime Minister everywhere, fell into line. Hershall started to go out, then turned and put his head inside the hall again. ‘Goodbye, Miss Caroll. Don’t let them overwhelm you!’ He chuckled and went downstairs quickly and surely; a few moments later the front door of the house slammed.

  Hammond turned slowly back into the room.

  Loftus was talking to Marion. He looked up quickly. ‘Well, Bruce, what did you think of him?’

  Hammond smiled. ‘A bit tempestuous,’ he said, ‘but he’s damned smart. He picked up my Crayshaw angle almost before I picked it up myself. However, that will work itself out.’ He whistled tunelessly under his breath, and then added: ‘I wonder what happened during the night?’

  ‘You could be backing a wrong hunch,’ said Loftus.

  Hammond turned to Marion in mock-exasperation.

  ‘That’s just what I was saying. The only safe thing is to keep one’s thoughts to oneself!’ He looked back at Loftus. ‘I shall like that remark a lot less if it’s true, Bill. Now, what have you got for me?’

  Loftus pursed his lips.

  ‘We—ell, not a great deal. The commissionaire remains missing. There’s no sign of Craigie. Crayshaw had been at his office all day. You’ve worked out the Ferdinand angle yourself, but we would have got there—we found a box of book matches in the pocket of the archer; it was from the Lamplighter, an advertising packet. Brice visited the Lamplighter, when he was in London. Reports from Dorset don’t give us much more information than we’ve got, except further proof that the radio-car which went after Brice last night had no right to, although if we hadn’t raised the point probably no one would have thought anything of it.’ He paused. ‘Emile’s much better; Lois and Christine are looking after him, and the place is guarded so well that there’s nothing to fear there. Our immediate problem seems to be to make sure that Hilary’s safe.’

  ‘And discover what it was she lost,’ Hammond said.

  Marion spoke into a pause: ‘The P.M. seemed to know all about her.’

  ‘Oh, Crayshaw’s story was quite genuine,’ said Loftus. ‘Sorry, Bruce, but there’s no doubt about it. We’ve even seen people who found the gold cross when it’s been lost before, and who claimed the reward for it. The only point outstanding is the whereabouts of her shoes and stockings.’r />
  ‘Ye—es,’ said Hammond. ‘And why the handbag was in the larder. I wonder——’ he turned abruptly and without another word went into the kitchen. The others heard the movements of crockery and of tins, then a comparative silence, followed by Hammond’s footsteps. When he reached the living room again he had a pair of stockings over one arm, and was carrying some shoes.

  Marion and Loftus stared at them blankly.

  ‘And so that’s another mystery busted,’ said Hammond. ‘Except that I can’t see why the stuff was in the larder ... Unless they foraged in there for something to eat, and thought it as good a place as any to leave the oddments.’ He sighed. ‘Well, if we don’t make the progress we’d like on the big matters, we’re getting the odds and ends nicely cleared up. What about arrangements for the Lamplighter?’ he added.

  ‘What have you in mind?’ asked Loftus.

  ‘A raid, of course, if Fryer’s there. We mustn’t let him get away. He might not talk as easily as Esteven, but at least he’ll be in jug instead of running about and doing more harm. Once we’ve got him too, we can check on his recent movements.’

  ‘I’ll tell half a dozen of the boys to be at the Lamplighter tonight,’ said Loftus, ‘and we’ll have to leave the outside arrangements to the police. I’ll ‘phone you about it. You’ve seen the photographs of the agents you haven’t yet met?’

  ‘Yes, I won’t crown the wrong man,’ promised Hammond.

  ‘You’re a matter-of-fact blighter,’ Loftus said with appreciation. ‘If only we could get Craigie back he’d enjoy hearing and seeing you. Well, I’m off to the office.’

  ‘What are we going to do with Hilary?’ asked Marion.

  ‘I’ll send the Errols for her,’ promised Loftus. ‘I know just the place.’

  From a window in the living room they watched him walk slowly across the road to a waiting cab. Also by the cab was a tall, grey-clad man, who even from that distance looked tired and even weary.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Marion.

  ‘By name, Davidson,’ said Hammond. ‘Wally Davidson. I’m told he’s been in hospital more times than any other of Craigie’s men.’ He was smiling a little, but the smile slowly disappeared. ‘Loftus is a grand chap,’ he said. He’s right on top of himself now, although Craigie told me that at one time it looked as if losing his leg would finish him for all general work. He was engaged, you know. American girl. She was killed in one of the show-downs, and Christine pulled him through. Loftus hasn’t yet convinced himself that Christine’s interest is more than pity skilfully disguised. Odd fellow in some ways.’

  Marion said: ‘Most of those I’ve met recently are. You don’t really think about anything else than the Department, do you? You live in it and for it?’

  Hammond eyed her with a curious smile.

  ‘Ye—es, I suppose it looks like that. And it’s true enough that my biggest concern at the moment is Crayshaw. It looks as if he’s going to be a real stumbling block. The P.M. loves him as a brother.’

  ‘The P.M. told you to get results, and that he didn’t mind how you got them,’ Marion reminded him. ‘I think he was telling you not to pay any attention to anything he said, but to work on whatever lines you think are the right ones.’

  Hammond said: ‘Did you think that, too? All the same, Crayshaw——’ he paused, and went into a brief brooding mood, rocking a little on his heels. Then: ‘He didn’t act as Hilary expected, did he?’

  ‘Why is that so important?’

  ‘We—ell, he might not act, now, as other people expect,’ said Hammond. ‘Also, the other side want his daughter killed. They also killed Ferdinand, which might or might not have been because of his ardent defence of Hilary. I have a feeling that his usefulness was over. There’s a tie-up—can you see it?’

  ‘No,’ said Marion eagerly. ‘Tell me.’

  Hammond shook his head, laughing. ‘You know my methods.’

  ‘Won’t you even tell me what you’re going to do now?’

  ‘As soon as Hilary’s safely removed,’ said Hammond, ‘I’m going for a breath of fresh air, and you’re coming with me. We might even have dinner out. A little relaxation will do us the world of good.’

  Marion said curiously: ‘Do you relax?’

  Hammond laughed. ‘Well, that’s what I propose to do.’ And then more sharply: ‘I wish I knew what had happened last night.’

  Marion said nothing, but went in to see her patient.

  Even in sleep the spoiled, almost petulant expression was on Hilary’s face. She was clearly a girl who had lacked the proper parental control, and had far too much money at hand. It was growing obvious, too, that unwittingly she had been drawn into a web of intrigue, and that she had been used to get information from her father.

  Hammond was thinking along the same lines when the telephone rang.

  He stepped towards it, and heard Loftus’s voice a moment later, charged with unusual excitement.

  ‘Bruce ... hold on a moment.’ Hammond waited, while Marion came into the room. ‘Hallo ... Bruce, you unholy beggar, how did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ said Hammond. ‘What’s happened? Has something developed during the night?’

  ‘Yes. What did you expect?’

  ‘As a long shot,’ said Hammond quietly, ‘I expected a decision to be made about whether the conference should be held at Crayshaw’s place or Cavendish’s. Hershall disappointed me when he said that no decision had been reached. Well?’

  ‘Virtually it’s been reached,’ said Loftus. ‘Cavendish Hall was practically gutted by fire last night. There isn’t a room left large enough for half a dozen people to meet, let alone a conference.’

  Marion, looking into Hammond’s gay eyes, knew that there was a fierce exultation in his mind. From the moment he had heard from Loftus, all depression had vanished. He had joked with the Errols when, with an ambulance and stretcher-bearers, they had come for Hilary. He had inquired light-heartedly into the arrangements for protecting Crayshaw’s daughter, and had pointed out to Marion with positive gaiety the two escorting cars.

  He had telephoned for a table at the Regal Hotel where, since the bombing of London had started, dinner began at half-past six, and there was dancing from seven o’clock until nine.

  Now they were sitting opposite each other at a table in the large restaurant, with a crowd of people about them differing from peace-time only in so much as evening gowns and dinner jackets had given way to lounge suits and uniforms.

  The orchestra was good; Hammond danced well, and Marion felt herself swept up in a vortex of gaiety and happiness she had thought she would never know again.

  They returned from a waltz to find a note on Hammond’s plate. He frowned at it before he opened it, but his eyes were still alight with high spirits. Turning it over, he saw in pencil the last three letters of his name: D-n-o.

  He slit the envelope with the back of a knife; two tickets fell out, and a slip of paper. He glanced at the paper and read:

  ‘These will get you into the Lamplighter.’

  ‘Club membership cards,’ he said, passing one of them to Marion. ‘The Lamplighter is careful of its clientele, but not quite careful enough. Are you looking forward to the show?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘We’re talking about you.’

  ‘But thinking about something very different. Bruce, what is it?’

  He almost brushed her hair with his lips as he whispered:

  ‘Cavendish’s place was burned down—why? Because the other alternative was Crayshaw’s. I was quite sure they meant it to take place at Crayshaw’s headquarters. That was why I wanted Hershall to go there. With all the members of the conference,’ he added. ‘It won’t work out unless he does. They thought that by holding Craigie it would stop any investigation by the Department of Cavendish’s place.’

  ‘And what will happen to Craigie?’

  She wished she had not asked the question, for the smile left his eyes, and he looked sole
mn, even sombre, as he said abruptly:

  ‘God knows. He won’t have much chance, I’m afraid. I—hallo, there’s Loftus.’

  He stopped talking as he looked at the big man.

  Loftus was not alone; the Errols were with him, and both Hammond and Marion knew from the expressions on the faces of the three men that the news they brought was bad. Loftus picked his way carefully through the crowded dining room, while a waiter hurried forward to arrange an extra table next to Hammond’s.

  For a moment nobody said anything, then Loftus’s words came very slowly: ‘Bruce, I don’t know how this is going to affect your plans and plotting. But I do know it’s knocked most of us flat. There were two people killed at Cavendish’s place last night. One was burned beyond recognition, the other burned badly about the head and shoulders, but with his coat in one piece.’

  Hammond said in a strained voice: ‘Well?’

  ‘In the coat was Craigie’s wallet,’ said Loftus. ‘I’m flying down to identify the body right away.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Hammond. His hand pressed on the table so that the knuckles showed white. ‘Cavendish’s place. You think they took Craigie there?’

  ‘It makes a hash of your ideas about Crayshaw,’ said Mark Errol abruptly.

  16

  The Lamplighter

  Paying no attention to Mark, Hammond looked straight at Loftus. ‘You can’t be sure that it’s Craigie. Why was the top of the body burned and not the torso? Accident, or design?’

  ‘That’s what I’m wondering,’ said Loftus, ‘and I’m praying that it was design.’

  ‘But why should they want to make it look as if Craigie were dead?’ demanded Mike Errol.

  ‘It looks pretty senseless to me,’ Mark said.

  Hammond snapped: ‘For heaven’s sake use your brain, man. Craigie, or the death of Craigie, at Cavendish Hall would be a prime bait for us. They would reason that the men they’ve most to fear in the Department would hurry down there. The whole venue of operations would alter, and that’s what they want. The place went up in flames to make a beacon we couldn’t miss. If they have their way we’ll fly to it like moths about a candle. It’s the counter-attraction, the thing to get us away.’