Contraband gs-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  'Well, it was this way sir. You'd 'ardly 'opped it into the lane before another plane comes sailing down and makes a landing in the next field to ours. Hello! I ses to myself, what's all this abart? So I goes over to investigate. I was just in time to see this bloke here beating it across the field at the double towards the park so I follows cautious like. When I reach the lane he was shining a torch about, looking for footmarks in the long grass I reckon, where you had trampled it down as you went along. He comes to a tree stump and hikes himself over the hedge into the park, so naturally I gives him a minute and then 'ops over too. I lorst him for a bit among the trees dark as 'ell it was, and I barked me knuckles on one of the tree trunks something cruel but I picked up our Albert again as he was crossing a field be'ind 'ere, and tagged him round the 'ouse. Then when I crep up close enough I found 'e'd got the goods on youin a manner of speaking.'

  'Darned lucky for me you did,' said Gregory. 'It was a good thing his gun didn't go off though when you jumped him.'

  'That were the only thing I was scared of, but I 'ad to take a chance, and I know you're pretty nippy on your tootsies.

  'He probably had the safety catch still down, but in any case with your weight on his neck the bullet would have gone into the gravel.' As Gregory spoke he was lashing the man's feet securely together with the belt of his raincoat. Their prisoner was now groaning a little and breathing stertorously.

  Rudd pulled off his belt for Gregory to tie the man's hands and then shone his torch again. As the light streamed on to the limp unconscious head Gregory suddenly let out a sharp low whistle.

  'Hang on a minute! I thought I'd seen this chap's face somewhere before when we looked at him just now, and by jove I have, although it was only for a minute.'

  'Is he one of the bunch you made hay of a few days ago in Trouville, sir?'

  'No,' sighed Gregory. 'I wish to God he were. This is the young policeman whom I rescued.'

  'Blimey! Here's a fine how dedo. We've been and coshed a copper.'

  'Never mind. As it's the chap I helped out before perhaps he won't run us in this time. Undo his feet again and I'll try and bring him round.'

  They were both kneeling beside the policeman's body when a door creaked in their rear and a light suddenly illuminated the bushes. They swung round to see a woman silhouetted against a brightly lit doorway a few yards from the scullery window. She was a broad bosomed middle-aged female. Her tousled grey hair, thick dressing gown, and bare feet thrust into old slippers, showed that she had been roused from her bed by the recent scuffle. In her hand she held a large Mark V service revolver. She held it very steadily and it was pointing at them.

  'Stand up you two,' she said, 'and put your hands above your heads. Then you'd better tell me what you're up to.'

  Taken completely off their guard, the two men obeyed.

  'What's your friend doing on the ground?' asked the woman sharply.

  'He's met with a slight accident.' Gregory's voice was low and amiable as he strolled casually towards her.

  'Keep your distance,' barked the woman. 'I've got a revolver here and I 'ave orders to use it.'

  Gregory halted a few paces from her. He possessed more courage than most men but one thing that really scared him was to see firearms in the hands of a woman. They were so much more likely to go off unexpectedly.

  'All right,' he said soothingly. 'I'm not a burglar and I wouldn't dream of harming you. As a matter of fact the chap on the path there happens to be a friend of mine and a police officer.'

  The woman's face showed a stony disbelief at this surprising statement.

  'Is he?' she said sarcastically, 'then he'll be pleased to see his friends from the station at Birchington as soon as I've had a chance to get on the telephone to them.'

  As she spoke she stepped out of the doorway and sideways along the wall of the house keeping it at her back and the three men covered by her revolver. 'Pick him up both of you,' she said, 'and carry him inside. Then I can get a better look at you. Come on, be quick now. I don't want to catch my death of cold standing about in this heavy dew all night.'

  Rudd took the policeman's shoulders and Gregory his feet. Then, followed by the woman, who never lowered her weapon for a single instant, they carried him into the house.

  'Straight down the passage,' she ordered and then, addressing Gregory who brought up the rear: 'If you try and trick me I'll put a bullet in your back. Straight on now and the third door on your right.'

  'Thank you, mother,' said Gregory amiably, 'but I'd rather have a nice cup of warm tea in my tummy. When you're tired of holding that thing I'll hold it for you and you shall make me one.'

  They proceeded along a stone flagged passage, evidently the servants' quarters, but when Rudd thrust his way backwards through the third door on the right Gregory saw that it was a heavy baize covered affair which led to the main part of the house. For a moment they were in semidarkness and he contemplated dropping the policeman's feet to swing round and tackle the woman, but she closed up on him as he passed through the swing door and, jamming the muzzle of her pistol firmly in the small of his back, switched on the lights.

  He saw that they were in the main hallway of the house; a fine apartment from which a broad staircase led to the floors above. There was a long settee in one corner and, on a small, table some way from it, stood a telephone.

  'Put him on the couch,' said the woman, making straight for the instrument.

  They dumped the policeman; who was now groaning loudly and showing signs of coming round. Then Gregory held out a quick restraining hand to the woman.

  'Please, one moment,' he begged. 'The police won't thank you for lugging them out at this hour in the morning to arrest one of their own people Hang on until this chap comes round. I swear to you on my honour that he is a policeman. He'll be able to tell you so himself in a minute.'

  The woman had her hand on the receiver; but she did not lift it.

  'What was he doing unconscious behind the house then?'

  'He was unconscious because I knocked him out. Mistook him for somebody else in the darkness.'

  'And who may you be, I'd like to know.'

  'A friend of Lord Gavin Fortescue's.' Gregory lied unblushingly. 'Honestly, Lord Gavin will be furious if you bring the local police into this. The chap we knocked out is from Scotland Yard and that's quite a different matter, but the last thing which Lord Gavin would want is to have a lot of flatfooted country constables mixed up in his affairs.'

  The policeman's eyes flickered open and Rudd pulled him up into a sitting position on the settee. He groaned again and for a moment put his head between his hands; then he lifted it painfully and stared about him.

  'Better now?' asked Gregory. 'I'm terribly sorry I knocked you out. I was under the impression that you were someone else, but you remember me, don't you? We met a few nights ago at Trouville.'

  'Yes yes, of course. I remember now: you got me out of a nasty mess didn't you? I didn't know it was you either when I caught you trying to break into this place but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you for an explanation.'

  'Plenty of time for that,' said Gregory easily. 'I think we're working on the same thing; but from different angles. We've landed ourselves in a new mess since you passed out though. This lady here with the heavy armaments, I don't yet know her name… '

  'Mrs. Bird,' the woman supplied noncommittally.

  'Well, Mrs. Bird seems to think that all three of us are up to no good here and she's just about to phone for the local coppers. I think it would be a good thing for all of us if you can persuade her not to.'

  The policeman stood up a little groggily. 'Mrs. Bird,' he said, 'my name's Inspector Wells, and I'm down here on special work for Scotland Yard. Here is my card of authority. Just look it over will you, and you'll see that it's all in order. Then I think you can leave this business safely in my hands.' As he spoke he extended the card he had taken from his pocketbook.

  'Stay where you are. Don't you dare co
me a step nearer, rapped out Mrs. Bird. 'What's the good of showing me that thing. Specially printed for the purpose, I haven't a doubt. Some people sneer at reading detective fiction but I don't. It gives respectable folk a lot of tips about your sort of gentry.'

  Gregory grinned. 'One up to you Mrs. Bird. I'll bet you're thinking of that Raffles story, where he came in and got Bunny out of a tight corner by turning up dressed as a policeman and arresting him in the South African millionaire's house.'

  A gleam of appreciation showed for a moment in Mrs. Bird's sharp eyes. 'That's it,' she said. 'Good stories those. We don't get many like them now; more's the pity.'

  'If you'll excuse me madam you're making a serious mistake.' Inspector Wells drew himself up. 'If you like to phone the local police you are, of course, quite within your rights to do so; but it's going to cause a lot of unnecessary inconvenience to everyone concerned.' The Inspector was thinking at the moment what a fool he would look among his colleagues if the woman did hand him over to the local police as one of a gang of housebreakers.

  She shook her head stubbornly. 'I may be right and I may be wrong, but what were you doing in our grounds I'd like to know? As for inconveniencing the local police what do we ' pay rates for. You stay where you are young man and don't you move a muscle while I telephone.'

  A stair creaked above them and they all glanced up. Unheard by any of them a young girl had appeared on the landing and was now descending the broad straight stairway. She was barefooted and clad only in her nightdress. Two long plaits of golden hair coiled about her head made a halo gleaming in the light. Her blue eyes were wide open and staring. Instantly they all realised that she was walking in her sleep.

  9

  The Real Menace to Britain

  'Don't wake her!' whispered Mrs. Bird. 'Not a sound please or the poor lamb may get the shock of her life.'

  In two silent strides Gregory was beside the older woman. His left hand closed over her right and in a single sharp twist he forced the revolver from between her fingers.

  It had happened before any of them had had time to even think and a cynical little smile twitched the corners of his lips as he whispered: 'Now, I'll hold the gun, Mrs. Bird, while you make me that nice cup of tea.'

  If looks could have killed Gregory would have fallen dead upon the spot. Mrs. Bird's homely, but normally pleasant, features became, for a second, distorted into a mask of almost comical indignation and dismay but she brushed past him without a word and hurried on tiptoe to the foot of the wide staircase.

  The girl was now halfway down the flight. She was quite young, eighteen or nineteen perhaps, slim as a boy, with only faintly rounded breasts and hips. The lines of her beautifully moulded figure showed clearly through the thin flowered chiffon nightdress. Her face was small and delicately chiselled; her creamy cheeks were slightly flushed in sleep. Above her short straight nose and white forehead the great oriel of plaited hair formed a shimmering golden crown. There was something ethereal and fairylike about her as she moved slowly down towards them which made it seem hardy possible that she was warm flesh and blood. The young Inspector's mouth hung a little open as he gazed up at her, completely fascinated; he thought that in all his days he had never seen anything quite so lovely, either human or in a work of art.

  Mrs. Bird mounted a few stairs and took the girl very gently by the arm. With hardly a pause she turned in her tracks and began to walk up the stairs again; led now by the elder woman.

  'Wells,' said Gregory in a sharp whisper.

  'Eh?' The Inspector started as though he had been woken from a trance.

  'Go up with them. There may be another telephone upstairs.'

  Wells nodded and with one hand on the banister rail began to tiptoe upstairs after the two women.

  As the little procession disappeared from sight Gregory let out a sharp sigh of relief, released the catch of Mrs. Bird's revolver, broke it open, and emptied out the bullets.

  'Weren't she a pretty kid?' murmured Rudd. 'Almost like a fairy orf a Christmas tree; only wanted a wand and a couple of wings.'

  Gregory shrugged. 'Pretty enough, but quite brainless I should think. Anyhow, it was a bit of luck for us that she turned up when she did or we would have had to waste more time arguing with the old woman.'

  When Mrs. Bird and the Inspector came down the stairs again Gregory asked her sharply:

  'What's the name of this place?'

  'Quex Park, Birchington.'

  'Good, now before we go on any further I want you to satisfy yourself that our friend here really is a police inspector. The quickest way is for you to get on the telephone to Scotland Yard. You can describe him to them then and they'll soon tell you if he's one of their people, or not. D'you agree?'

  'That sounds sense,' she said, a little subdued, now that she no longer had the whip hand over them.

  Wells gave her the number, but Gregory insisted upon turning it up in the London Directory, so that she could have no grounds to think that they were trying to trick her; then he made her put through the call herself.

  The result proving satisfactory her attitude changed at once from acute suspicion to apologetic interest.

  'Not another word, please,' Gregory protested. 'You were perfectly right to hold us up and you did it darned well into the bargain but now, joking apart, would it be troubling you too much if we asked you to make us a cup of tea? We've been up all night and I'm sure the others could do with one too.'

  'Certainly, sir, of course I will. Maybe you could do with a bite to eat as well. What about some nice scrambled eggs for an early breakfast?'

  That'd be splendid and really kind of you. Rudd, you go along with Mrs. Bird and give her a hand. I want a word with the Inspector.'

  'Certainly, sir,' said Rudd cheerily. 'I'm a dab at scrambling eggs I am, as you know well enough from past experience.'

  Mrs. Bird bridled. 'You'll do no cooking in my kitchen young man, but you can help with the plates and things.'

  As they left the hall Gregory moved over to Wells, who had sat down on the settee again.

  'Now let's try and get things straightened out a' bit,' he said. 'I'm awfully sorry about having banged you over the head but it would never have happened if it hadn't been for the stupidity of your own people in refusing to allow us to work together.'

  'Don't worry about the knock you gave me.' Well's freckled face lit up with a boyish grin. 'You were at the Yard this morning, weren't you? I was talking to the Superintendent about your visit only a few minutes after you'd gone. Of course the position is a bit unusual and it's against our principles to work in with civilians. That's why the Super had to turn down your offer. But it's quite clear now it would be wiser for us to come to some working arrangement.'

  'I'm glad you feel that way. You know most of my end of the story; what about yours?'

  'I know what you told them at the Yard this morning and that you're acting on behalf of Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust but you didn't give away what you're investigating for him.'

  'Need we fence? I'm trying to get to the bottom of the international smuggling racket. It's costing some of his companies a packet owing to unfair competition by the ring who're dealing in illicit goods upon which no duty has been paid.'

  'Right. Well, I'm after the same thing. In the ordinary way the prevention of smuggling doesn't come under the police. It's the business of the Customs and Excise people to check up on suspected goods which have already been imported and the Inspector of Water Guard deals with prevention along the coasts. We're only called in to make arrests, and so on, but the loss in revenue during the last year has mounted to such a fantastic figure that it's got to be stopped. The Yard were asked to undertake a special inquiry and they've given me a chance at it as my first independent investigation. It looks to me like a biggish job too.'

  'A biggish job!' Gregory echoed, a satirical edge to his tone. 'I'll say it is. The biggest that any policeman's been called on to handle in the whale of a while. I'm not being rud
e. I mean that. If you handle this thing right you'll be made for life, but, if you don't, it'll break you and lots of other people who're higher up the ladder than you are, as well. But go on. I must know all you've done to date if I'm to, give you any help.'

  Wells did not like Gregory's faintly contemptuous manner but he was shrewd enough to recognise that he was in contact with a far more dynamic personality than his own, and somehow, he could not help feeling attracted to Sir Pellinore's rakish looking representative. His professional admiration had been aroused too, by the swift efficient way in which Gregory had relieved Mrs. Bird of her revolver instantly the opportunity occurred, so he went on quietly:

  'I was put on to this special work about six weeks ago and, so far, I've spent most of my time trying to get a lead from the British end of it; working back from the retailers, who are cutting the prices of their goods, to the wholesaler and so, eventually, to the actual importers of contraband. It's been an uphill job, because silk stockings and things like that are such universal commodities, and there's no law which compels a retailer to keep an official record of his purchases or sales.

  'Take spirits now, they're different, because there's been a heavy duty on them for generations. Years ago a law was passed which compelled every dealer in spirits to keep an excise ledger. Say a man has five hundred gallons of whisky down from Scotland, or foreign spirits for that matter either, he gets a permit with it directly it's checked out of bond, then he has to give a permit in his turn to every customer who buys the stuff, and enter the transaction in his book. Every few months an excise officer visits each dealer and examines his figures, which gives a pretty satisfactory check up, you see. It's illegal for a dealer to sell spirits without passing on a permit to his customer and, if the amount permitted out exceeds that permitted in, the excise man would start asking awkward questions at once.'

  'How about odd bottles?' Gregory inquired.

  'Oh, they're allowed a certain margin to cover that. The system's not altogether watertight as far as the pubs are concerned, where most of the stuff goes out in tots over the counter. There's a certain amount of smuggling in spirits still done but they can't operate on the grand scale; as they can with silks and other goods where there's no check up at all.'