Two men in twenty

by Procter, Maurice

  Then he turned a corner and saw the distant sodium lights of a main road, and between him and the road two medium-sized blue vans drawn across the road in echelon. 'All right, you bastards,' he muttered. 'Here I come. You won't stop me.'

  He was driving at speed towards the barrier when a most disconcerting thing happened. The lorry's engine began to make irregular explosive noises, and finally it made no noise at all. 'No bloody juice!' Husker ejaculated as the lorry slowed and halted.

  Cain had no comment to make. He was first out of the cab, and he was carrying the bag full of loot. He was aware of shouts, whistles, and running men. He ran straight across the street into an opening between two factories. Husker tried to follow him, but was not in time to avoid a football tackle by one of the men who came running up. He went down heavily. The plainclothesman knelt on him until he had snapped a handcuff on to his right wrist. Jolly got out of the cab on the near side. His stiff old-man's run carried him thirty yards before he was caught by another policeman. He did not struggle.

  As Cain ran along between the factory buildings he perceived that he was not passing along a public way. This was one very big factory, not two. All the same, the private street or passage was more than a hundred yards long, and when he had run half that distance he heard somebody shout: 'One of 'em went in there!' A second later he knew that he had a pursuer: just one man running seventy or eighty yards behind him.

  He reached the end of the passage and saw that it widened into a huge yard. He ran round the corner, and on for a few yards, then he turned and ran a-tiptoe back to the corner. He put down the carrier, and he had just enough time to wrench off his left shoe before his pursuer arrived. The man came fast, taking the corner wide, but Cain sprang to assail him from the side with the clubbed heel of the shoe. He was a big fellow, but Cain's first blow on the head made his knees buckle, and the second felled him. Cain peered round the corner. There was no other pursuer yet, but soon there would be. He forced his left foot into his laced-up shoe and went to the prostrate policeman. He needed a weapon. He found one, a solid rubber truncheon of the sort which C.I.D. men occasionally use.

  Truncheon in hand, Cain peered round the corner again. No more pursuers yet. He picked up his bag of loot and looked around him. He could see nothing but factory buildings eight storeys high. There was no way out except the way he had come, but over in the far corner of the yard he discerned a faint light. A watchman? He ran in that direction.

  There was no doubt that a factory of this size would have much modern equipment, but the buildings were not modern. He stopped beside a grimy, small-paned factory window with a paper blind showing light at the edges. There was a door, of solid wood with a big keyhole. He tried the door gently, and of course it was locked. He was about to knock when he saw a spot of white in the darkness. It was a bell button, in the middle of the door. He pressed the button, and faintly heard the bell ring somewhere.

  While he waited he heard more running feet, a sound which rapidly grew louder. They were coming: more policemen, several of them. He rang the bell again.

  'Just a minute,' a voice answered him. 'Who is it?'

  'Police,' Cain replied.

  'What's up?'

  'You have a door open across the yard here.'

  'Oh.' There was surprise. 'Just a minute.'

  Cain heard the tinkle of keys on the other side of the door. 'Come on, old man,' he breathed. His new pursuers were in sight, three of them grouped beside their unconscious colleague. They would not be able to see Cain where he stood, but soon they would see the lighted window.

  The key turned in the lock. At the same moment one of the newcomers detached himself from the others and came across the yard at a jog trot. The door began to open. Cain put his shoulder to it and pushed with all his strength, and the man who had opened it was forced back. Cain stepped inside, thrust with his truncheon and pushed the man further back. Then without taking his eyes from the man, he half turned and locked the door, and dropped the bunch of keys in his pocket.

  He found himself in a little passage illuminated by windows from the time office which was also the night watchman's room. There was a time-punch clock on the wall and a rack of time cards. There was nothing else, not even paint. He peered through glass into the shabby little office, and saw that the watchman had been alone. He looked at the man. As he had expected in a place like this, it was an elderly man, a round, comfortable, shabby little man who was a superannuated factory hand, employed not to watch for big-time thieves, but to chase away children and smell around for fires. Nor was he a very bright old man. He had not yet realized what was happening.

  'Eigh,' he protested. 'Yer said yer were a bobby.'

  Cain prodded again with the truncheon, pushing the man further back, getting him away from the door. 'Well, I'm not,' he said. 'But I'm not here to do any harm. You'll be all right if you do what I tell you. If not—' He wagged the truncheon suggestively. 'Got it?'

  The man was frightened, but not yet cowed. 'What yer want, then?'

  'All I want is to be taken quietly through this building and let out on the other side. Lead the way, and you'll be all right. Try anything funny, and I'll addle your brains with this. Now have you got it?'

  The watchman nodded. He did not intend to resist, but he sought to retain some of his self-respect. 'You won't take naught from this place?'

  'Not a thing, old man.'

  The doorbell rang. Cain held up the truncheon wordlessly. The watchman opened his mouth to shout, and changed his mind. 'Move,' Cain said softly. 'Lead the way.'

  The man turned and walked to a door at the end of the passage. He pushed it open and there was darkness beyond. 'Light,' said Cain, close behind him. The doorbell rang again, a long peal this time.

  The watchman switched on a light, and Cain saw that he was in a windowless room which appeared to be a storage place for unwrapped bales of fibre; cotton or rayon or something of the sort. When the door was closed again the bell was barely audible.

  Cain followed the old man to a further door. It was locked. He handed over the keys, and the man unlocked the door. Cain turned out the light as he left the storeroom. He locked the door and kept the keys.

  'Now what?' he demanded. They were at the junction of three long, wide corridors, each one lit by a single bulb.

  'This way,' the man said, turning to the right.

  'Where to?'

  'Street.'

  'And this one to the left?'

  'Th' offices.'

  'And this one straight ahead?'

  'Nowhere. Railway sidin's.'

  'There's a door?'

  'Aye. It's never used now.'

  'Lead on.'

  They went straight ahead. At intervals on each side of the passage there were openings into great sheds with skylight windows. This part of the place had only one storey. It was an addition to the eight-storey building through which Cain had just passed, or else the taller place was a warehouse for it. It was filled with machinery about which he was incurious. He had a vague impression of white objects and shiny metal, glimmering in the faint light from the overhead windows.

  At the end of the passage there was a great door on runners, secured by a padlock. In this door there was a smaller door. 'Which key?' Cain asked.

  The watchman indicated the key. 'It's bolted an' all,' he said.

  Cain withdrew the bolt and unlocked the door. He opened it and saw the outdoors. The watchman held out his hand for the keys.

  Cain hesitated. Now was the time to stroke the old man with the truncheon, to stop him from running to the telephone. But there had been a promise of no harm. Besides, he was old, and a crack on the head might have serious consequences. Cain was human, in a way. He would keep his promise.

  'You want these keys?' he asked almost genially.

  'I can't get back ter me office without 'em.'

  'Ah.' Cain stepped through the door. 'I'll leave the keys outside. Just outside the door. Good night.'

&
nbsp; He removed the key to the outside of the door and locked it. He turned to look at the sidings, breathing the night air deeply. Around him he sensed decay and disuse. There was rank grass quite close to the door, and he threw the keys into this. He set off across the sidings. Here and there was rolling stock temporarily not in use. The distant lights of a road showed him that he had many acres of railway property to cross. Surely, he thought, the coppers won't have formed a ring round this lot.

  When he had run a hundred yards the watchman began to hammer on the big door. His cracked shout for help was faint.

  Cain laughed. He was free and he still had his bagful of loot. They wouldn't stop him now. He was the one they could not stop.

  21

  The extent of the sidings gave Cain an idea of his position. This spaciousness also gave him a view of some of the city's tallest buildings, in silhouette against the glow of main streets. From them he was able to work out his direction. He turned and moved at a fast walk parallel with the lines, moving from track to track at the termination of each siding. Eventually there were no sidings, and he was following the main line between high walls. He decided that if a slow goods train came along he would try to board it. If not he would follow the line. This was the line which ran through Churlham.

  No goods train came. He came to the end of the enclosing walls before any train passed. Gradually the ground fell away, and he was on an embankment. He did not like this exposed line of flight, and furthermore there was a train approaching at speed. It would have a Diesel engine probably, and the driver would have a clear view of the line. If he saw a man on the line he might mention it to somebody. Cain descended from the embankment and climbed a four-foot wall with a six-foot drop into a road which curved away into the distance, with the embankment on one side and then street after street of small houses on the other. Something about the appearance of these houses told him that he was not in Churlham.

  But he had not made a serious mistake, he had merely underestimated the distance he had travelled. Churlham was away over to the right, and the arc of that Diesel train's approach had indicated that the line curved away to the right. If this road followed the embankment for any distance it would take him somewhere near to his destination.

  But the road was bleak, and it was bare, and though the street lights were poor and far apart they were too close together for Cain. Also, it was deserted, and his isolation made him feel prominent. He had noticed that behind the wall of the embankment there were advertisement hoardings at intervals, each one facing the end of a street. He found a place where he could climb the wall. On the other side there was a path of sorts, probably made by children. He walked along steadily, upright when he was behind a hoarding, stooping when he had to keep below the level of the wall.

  Luck was still with him. If he had followed the railway far enough, he would have walked into the view of the policeman who was watching from the brick hut on the embankment. But he did not even consider going to Naylor Street: it was much too dangerous. And before he came near to the brick hut he left the railway altogether and went in search of the plasterer's yard where he had left his car. He did not have the key of the gate in his pocket, but he had the key of the car. He could climb over the wall and sit all night in the car. In the morning when the plasterer came he could get down out of sight. When the gate was open and the plasterer's back was turned he could simply drive out of the gate and away. It was his own car, and the police did not know a single thing about it. Nobody knew. In the morning about eight o'clock it would not be too difficult to drive right away from Granchester.

  * * * * *

  At 22 Naylor Street Bill Coggan reflected that he had enjoyed the caresses of too many prostitutes. This young sister-in-law of Cain reminded him of a pro. He could not tell whether she thought he was the world's greatest lover, or whether she was just kidding him. She seemed to be insatiable; shamelessly so; but that also could have been part of her act.

  Finally he sat up on the bed. He looked at his watch. Time was getting on, but there would still be a night train to London. 'We've got to go, kid,' he said. 'At least, I'm going.'

  That made her abandon any idea of detaining him longer. She put a hand on his thigh. 'You said you'd take me.'

  'All right. Put a few things into just one small case. I've got to go next door, as I told you. Get a hat and a coat and look respectable. Now be quick. I expect you to be ready when I come back for you.'

  He dressed quickly, but she matched him for speed. She was getting out a week-end case when he left her. He slipped downstairs and got the key of 20. He departed from 22 without locking the door. In the other house he found his money. He put on his hat, packed the smaller of his two cases by simply closing the lid on the garments and accessories which were in it, and slipped into his raincoat.

  'Now away, boy, away,' he said under his breath. Was he taking that little cow with him? Like hell he was! She could wait there till she had twins for all he cared.

  * * * * *

  The observers who had been withdrawn from around 20 and 22 Naylor Street by Superintendent Clay had assembled in the room above Otto Neubaur's shop. There, they had sat on the floor smoking and awaiting orders. The orders came soon after the door of 22 had been seen to open, and in the light from the doorway a man had been seen to enter.

  'Take up your positions again,' they were told. 'At the first move, or the first opportunity, get in and make your arrests. Then wait inside for the others to come. Search warrants are on the way.'

  The men stole back to their posts. In due time a man was seen to emerge from 22. But before he could be approached he had entered 20 and closed the door. The sergeant in charge of the observers was cautious. The backs of both houses were well covered, by four men. At the front he had three men with him. He took up his position with his back to the wall outside the door of 20, with a man on the other side of the doorway, and he stationed his other two men similarly at 22.

  They did not have long to wait. The door of 20 opened, and a man stepped out. He was seized by two men at once, and immediately handcuffed. 'Nip in there and see if he was alone,' the sergeant said to his man.

  The plainclothesman obeyed. No. 20, with nothing but four beds and a few pieces of luggage, was the easiest of houses to search. In not much more than a minute he was back. 'Nobody in there,' he reported. 'Nothing at all, hardly.'

  'Right. Wait inside with the light out. I'll send you a mate.'

  The sergeant took Coggan to 22. 'All right,' he said in a low voice. 'Get them to open the door.'

  'It isn't locked,' said Coggan, appalled, hardly knowing what he was saying.

  The sergeant opened the door and entered. Coggan was pushed in behind him, ahead of the other two. Flo was sitting on the edge of a chair, with her case on the floor beside her. She had just lit a cigarette. She stared, speechless, at Coggan in handcuffs.

  When she found her voice she spat: 'You bloody fool! You led 'em here.'

  * * * * *

  Left alone in Haddon and Walker's, with a policeman watching the front, Ned France went to the back door. He assumed, from the two men he had seen, that all the detectives loose in the vicinity would also be running in the direction which Cain's lorry had taken. So, if he went in the opposite direction, into the streets from which the men had come, he had a good chance of escaping interrogation until he came to a road block, if there were any road blocks. At least, he reasoned, he had a small area in which he could move about until he had found a place to hide. He was determined to escape, and because of that he remained optimistic. At the same time he knew that he was in great danger.

  His key-like picklock was still set to the wards of the lock on the back door. He opened the door and looked out. The back street was deserted. He slipped out, and he locked the door again so that it would not soon be obvious to the police that someone had emerged that way. He turned in the direction from which the running policemen had come. He moved along cautiously, stopping at every c
orner, waiting and watching for an appreciable time before he crossed a street. He was nervous.

  The way was very open, and yet there were many doorways in which a man could stand and watch his approach.

  But he covered ground, moving away from Haddon and Walker's. In a perilous journey of five or six hundred yards he did not see another person. He knew then that this whole factory area was cordoned. He would be challenged by the first policeman who saw him. He was indeed in danger.

  His confidence ebbed further when he came to the end of a tall warehouse building and saw that he would have to cross a fairly wide, straight, deserted road. Nor could he cross directly. Facing him was the long frontage of a large modern factory which blocked the way for hundreds of yards to left and right. There was an enclosed space, with flower beds, which was somewhat longer than the factory frontage. This space was enclosed by a low wall surmounted by tall iron railings.

  France was not a man to use bad language habitually, but now he breathed bitter words. Then he thought: 'No use moanin',' and he set his mind to the problem. He did not want to turn back and take another direction, so he looked to left and right along the road. On both sides a line of excellent street lights stretched away into the distance. And in the distance, on both sides too, he saw red lights. Road blocks. But the men on the road blocks were too far away to see him provided he did not walk directly under a light. He looked for the darkest patch of the street within reasonable distance. He chose the spot, and saw that he would have to pass beneath a light to reach it. He turned back, and ran lightly round the warehouse block.