Two men in twenty

by Procter, Maurice

  Now he was at the dark patch. There was no street light near. He waited, getting his breath. He could see nobody, and nothing stirred. He darted across the road and leaped on the low wall. There was no pause in his movements as he grasped two of the spikes and pulled himself up. He got his left foot and then his right knee on to the flat horizontal bar which held the spikes firm. He wobbled dangerously as he brought up his right foot, but managed to keep his balance until he was upright. There was not enough space between the spikes for him to make a clean jump down into the yard. He put the sole of one shoe directly on to a spike and balanced on it for a split second while he pulled the other foot clear and leaped lightly to the ground. Then he ran to get into the shadow of the factory building.

  From the shadows he looked back. As far as he could see, nothing moved. He stole along the factory frontage in the direction of the most distant road block. The railings along the street gave him no cover, but at least he was away from street lights, and in a position to see people who passed along the street before they could see him. Once a car passed. It might have been a police car, but he was lying flat, close to the factory wall, before any of its occupants could have seen him.

  At last he came to the end of the building. He peeped round the corner. There was more open yard, and a smaller annex of the building which stood back. He studied this. It was obviously the garage, with big doors in a row and a store place above it. He made his way towards it, and along to the end. Again he peeped. The railings now were quite near. The factory's land ended at a corner not thirty yards away, and at the corner were vans set in echelon, and red lights and policemen in uniform. He turned back, flitting along the line of garage doors. One of these doors had a small door which was secured by a latch lock. He took his 'loid' from his sock and opened the door with very little noise. He slipped through, and gently latched the door behind him. Inside, he moved along a line of big lorries and opened the cab of the one nearest the windows. He made himself as comfortable as he could on the cushioned seat of the cab, certain in his own mind that if he fell asleep he would be awakened by the slightest noise, and in any case he would be awakened early by the daylight streaming through the windows.

  He had cigarettes in his pocket and he would have liked a smoke. But, he decided, that would be taking liberties with luck. A non-smoking watchman might come in here and walk around these lorries, and smell tobacco.

  Thinking of his chances of escape, he tried to assume the mental attitude of a senior police officer. The police, he argued, had no idea that anyone had stayed behind at Haddon and Walker's. If Cain and the others had escaped in the lorry, they would assume that the entire mob had escaped. If Cain had been arrested, they still would have no idea that Ned France had escaped, unless somebody talked. Husker might talk, but France's disappearance would be a mystery to him, because he would assume that France had been on the Thames Trader.

  Anyway, this was not a murder case, unless Cain had lost his head and done something foolish. This was the last of a long series of jobs which had become only really serious by their number, total amount of loot, and effect upon police tempers and morale. In this area, in the morning, thousands of people would be coming to work, and thousands of vehicles would be coming and going. The road blocks would have to be removed.

  France decided that if the road block outside was there in the morning, he would probably be caught. If the road block was not there, he had a good chance of getting away.

  Later, he realized, the police would probably find his fingerprints at Naylor Street, if they knew about Naylor Street. It would be a day or two before they knew that the prints belonged to Jimmy the Gent. In a day or two Jimmy the Gent could be in a safe hiding place.

  22

  Martineau arrived at the Thames Trader some five minutes after it had become stationary through lack of fuel. He had with him Sergeant Devery and six men. He found there Detective Sergeant Harnett from C Division, one plainclothes man, and the two prisoners Husker and Jolly.

  'Only two?' he asked. 'Where are the others?'

  'There was only one other man, sir,' Harnett replied. 'He ran into the mill yard. Walker of my division ran after him. When more men came I left the prisoners with Jameson here, and went in there with the other two. We found Walker laid out. It looks as if he was ambushed at the corner in there and knocked out. I left a man trying to rouse the watchman, and the other man I left with Walker. I've sent for the ambulance.'

  'Ah. Anything else?'

  'Three more men came. I sent them round the mill, one on each of three sides.'

  Martineau nodded. 'There's no way out of that yard. If your man isn't in there he's in the mill. Either he broke in or the watchman let him in.'

  'It's a big mill, sir. The watchman could be on his rounds.'

  'Yes. And if that is so, your missing man must have opened a door or a window. The two men we have not arrested are Cain and France. You've seen their pictures. France is their door-and-window man. He can pick a lock like nobody's business. He's probably the man who is inside the mill. If that is so, where is Cain?'

  'There were only three men in the cab of the lorry, sir. I saw them clearly as it came out of Archer Street.'

  'Mmmm. Murray and Hearn, get right round the back of the place and reinforce the man there. Robieson and Brabant, go to the Payne Street side. Ainslie and Evans, take the Blake Street side. Off you go. Sergeant Devery, stand at the kerb there and keep your eye on the whole of this frontage.'

  When the orders had been obeyed, Martineau turned to the prisoners. 'How many men on this lorry?' he asked.

  Leo Husker opened his mouth to speak. Sailor Jolly lurched against him.

  'What's up with you?' Husker demanded. They run off and left us, didn't they?'

  'You'll be awful uncomfortable in the nick if you come copper,' Jolly told him. 'I'll see to that myself.'

  'Shut up, you,' Martineau snapped. He addressed Husker. 'How many men on this lorry?'

  But Jolly's warning had been timely. Husker was silent. Martineau persisted only briefly, realizing that he would have to get the man alone in order to interrogate him.

  'All right,' he said finally to Sergeant Harnett. 'Use one of those cars to take these two in. If either of 'em wants to talk, take it down. Don't forget the caution.'

  'Just tell me one thing,' Husker said. 'Did Cain's wife shop us?'

  Martineau was tempted. A simple lie would get this man talking. But he would talk in any case, that seemed certain.

  'I'll have a chat with you later,' he said, and Husker was led away.

  'Keep your eye on this lorry, too,' he called to Devery, and then he got into the remaining car and went in search of a telephone.

  'At least one man got away,' he reported to Clay. 'But we might have him bottled in Gibraltar Mills. Both Cain and France are still at large. I don't understand it. Sergeant Harnett is sure there were only three men in the getaway lorry.'

  'There might only have been three men and a driver on the job,' Clay replied. 'Cain might have been master-minding it from his armchair.'

  'If that's the case, we'll get him at Naylor Street. But I'm doubtful about that. Five men got into that van, when it set off from Naylor Street. That means one wheel man and four in the team.'

  'Not necessarily. Cain could have stayed with the wheel man, if he was a bit doubtful about him. There still might have been only three men in the XXC team.'

  'Possible, sir,' Martineau admitted. 'Anyway, I'm going back to Haddon and Walker's to look around.'

  'You do that,' Clay said.

  Martineau returned to the Thames Trader. Three more detectives had arrived and Devery was talking to them. 'Just giving them the gen, sir,' he said apologetically to the chief inspector.

  Martineau nodded. He posted one man by the lorry, one at the entrance to the mill yard, and one half way along the frontage. Then he drove with Devery to Haddon and Walker's.

  There was a plainclothesman still standing beside the o
pen loading bay, and he was talking to a man who was obviously not a policeman. He straightened when he saw Martineau.

  'Sir, this is Mr. Walker, a member of the firm,' he explained. 'Headquarters asked him to come along here with the keys.'

  Martineau shook hands with Walker. 'You've had visitors,' he said. And to the officer: 'Have you been inside?'

  'No, sir. I was told to stay and watch this door.'

  'Right,' Martineau said. 'Continue to do so. Mr. Walker, shall we have a look round?'

  They entered the building, the two C.I.D. men lighting the way with their torches. Walker found light switches, and led the way to the office. They found the safe.

  'How much had you in there?' the chief inspector asked.

  'I don't know, till I've talked with the cashier.'

  'Plenty?'

  'Happen three thousand. Happen more.'

  Martineau winced. 'Worse than I expected.' He looked at the assorted equipment which had been left. 'Maybe they intended this to be their last job,' he commented. 'Let's see if we can find how they got in.'

  He sent Devery to search the upper floors of the building, with instructions to shout if he saw anyone. Then he went with Walker on a tour of the doors and windows of the ground floor.

  Eventually they came to the back door. 'Locked,' the chief inspector commented. He examined the door thoroughly. 'Should this be barred?'

  'I'm afraid I couldn't tell you,' Walker replied. 'I'll ask the foreman in the morning.'

  'Where's the key?'

  'I have it in a drawer somewhere. We never use this door.'

  Martineau had his nose to the keyhole. 'Never?' he queried.

  'Well, hardly ever. I can't remember the last time.'

  'This lock has been oiled quite recently. And look at this bolt. See those scratches. It was withdrawn recently, and before that it was in the socket for a long time. It looks as if they got in here.'

  'Can they withdraw a bolt from the outside of the door?'

  'They can indeed. There are various methods,' Martineau said.

  They went on their way, and eventually returned to the office. Devery came to say that he had seen no signs of intrusion upstairs. 'That's all, then, unless the flash and dab brigade finds something,' Martineau said. He went and picked up a telephone in the main office, and spoke to Clay. He told him about the safe, the equipment, the back door.

  'A nice tickle,' Clay commented. 'They've seen a man go in at Naylor Street, and I've told them to go in when they get the chance. So it looks as if we've got at least three men out of the five. Murray got round the back of Gibraltar Mills and found the watchman locked in. The watchman said the keys were somewhere about and Murray found them in some grass. It seems our man forced the watchman to take him right through the mill and let him out near the railway. I expect he went off across the tracks. I've put men out on that, but he must have got about twenty minutes' start. A big man, that's the only description I've got so far.'

  'Mmmm. It looks as if the two men we lost were the two most important. But we have their pictures. Have you plenty of reporters around there?'

  'Have we? There's a hive of them buzzing round the front office.'

  'Well, it looks as if we'll have to put the word out on Cain and France.'

  'Yes. I'll get those reporters in, and issue pictures. We'll catch the morning papers. Then I'll take off the road blocks and leave pickets. What are you going to do?'

  'I'm going to talk to the prisoners,' said Martineau grimly. 'They're going to tell me what I want to know.'

  * * * * *

  When Martineau reached his own office he had a brief talk with Sergeant Harnett. 'Did they sing?' he asked.

  'No. I didn't press them. I got their names, that's all. Funny what they'll do. The old one has a wallet full of his own press cuttings. Edmund Jolly or Sailor Jolly they call him. He's got plenty of form. The other one is called Leo Husker. There was a warrant out for him a while back, in this town. Non-maintenance of wife. That's all the record he has.'

  'Bring that one in,' Martineau said.

  When the prisoner stood before him, he looked him up and down. 'So you're Husker,' he said, as if he had known the name for a long time. 'You're in bad trouble, Husker. Sit there.'

  Husker sat. 'Was it Dorrie Cain shopped us?' he demanded.

  'As you should know, we never divulge the names of people who give us information.'

  'I bet that bloody Cain was tryin' it on with the wife's sister,' said Husker bitterly. 'I saw it comin'. He wouldn't let none of us get near her. The bloody fool.'

  'Jealous women are dangerous,' Martineau said complacently.

  'You're tellin' me. I married one.'

  'Ah. Cain got away with the loot. It'll go hard on you if we don't catch him.'

  'He'll go back ' Husker stopped.

  'If he goes back to Naylor Street he's had it. One man has gone back there already. We think it's your wheel man. He found out we were on his tail so he scarpered and left you in the middle of it.'

  'Another bloody Londoner. I don't trust 'em.'

  'I don't think Cain will go back to Naylor Street, somehow. He's too wide for that.'

  'Happen he is. He'll clear off back to London, I expect.'

  'Does he have a car?'

  'Not as I know of. He took the car to London an' got rid of it. So he said.'

  'Mmmm. We haven't caught Jimmy the Gent, either. What happened to him?'

  'I'm blessed if I know. He was supposed to be on the back of the lorry, but I never saw him make his getaway. You never know where you have that bastard. He's as fly as a box o' monkeys.'

  'Does he have a car?'

  'Not as I know of. You never know what he's got, or what he hasn't got. He's a lone wolf. He never sort of mucked in with the lads.'

  'Was it Mrs. Cain or her sister who used to go out casing jobs for you?'

  'Both, till Dorrie got herself spotted at Sedgeworth. Then it had to be Flo.'

  There were more questions, about Husker's past, about Cain and France, about the supply of oxygen cylinders, which would be the subject of several separate prosecutions. Husker talked quite freely, apparently assuming that his questioner already had the most important facts, which indeed he had. Having wrung the man dry, Martineau dismissed him. He called in Jolly, who had nothing to say. That did not matter much. The case now was simply a hunt for Howie Cain, Dorrie Cain, and Ned France.

  23

  Daylight came about six o'clock the following morning, and Ned France was moving around as soon as he could see his way about. He looked out of one of the side windows, and saw that the road block had been taken away. He stood watching, taking in the view, looking for signs. It was a fine morning. One car passed along the road behind the factory, but there were no pedestrians about at that time. Presently he saw a flicker of movement in a warehouse doorway some yards beyond the crossroads. Something had appeared, and disappeared. Then, by the doorway, there was a little cloud of blue-grey smoke. Someone there had just lit a cigarette, and France had seen the action of throwing away the match.

  'A copper, no doubt,' he decided. He went and looked around the garage, and found some oil-stained boiler suits hanging from a row of hooks. He selected the one which fitted him best. He put it on, wearing it over his trousers and under his coat. Also on the hooks were three drivers' caps. He selected one of those and put it on his head. Now, he thought, he had the best disguise he could have for that part of the day, the appearance of a man on his way to work. He found the toilets and washed his hands and face, because men did not go dirty to work though they were not always shaven. He replaced the cap and put on the clear spectacles which were part of his working equipment. There was a mirror above one of the wash basins. He looked at himself. A very ordinary fellow, he thought. A man you would not look at twice.

  He went to the door by which he had entered, and stood listening a moment. He opened the door an inch, and breathed the morning air. He looked out. Across the yard a
man was unlocking a big gate in the railings. He opened the gate and fastened it back. Then he hurried off beside the railings, no doubt making for the next gate.

  'Watchman or timekeeper,' France decided. 'He's late with his morning jobs.'

  He opened the door wider, and looked along the street. It was still only twenty minutes past six, and there was no one about. But there was that man smoking in a doorway. There were no road blocks, but there would be patrols all round the area. France went to look at the available vehicles. He did not want one of the big lorries.

  He found a small runabout van, with an inscription on the side announcing somebody's pistons. So that was what they made at this place. A big factory like this making nothing but pistons? A strange thing, commerce.

  There was just enough room to drive the van to one of the big doors. He started the engine and left it running while he unbolted the door and opened it wide enough. He ran back to the van and drove out of the garage and out through the gate. He turned right, and right again, going towards the doorway where he had seen the cloud of smoke. Before he reached the crossroads he put his cap on the seat beside him, and placed his spectacles inside it. He did not slow up at the crossing, but shot across and then increased his speed. He was going fast when he passed the doorway, driving with one hand while the other held his handkerchief to his nose. He did not look at the man in the doorway, but looked at his near-side wing mirror when he had passed. The man came out of the doorway and stared after the van. He seemed to turn his head and shout to someone across the street. Two of them, then. They would know the district, and perhaps they would think that it was early for that van to be out, with the driver pretending to blow his nose when he passed a plainclothes patrol.

  If those plainclothesmen were suspicious, they would put out the word first and make their inquiries afterwards. How long before the Z cars began to converge, looking for one particular van? Five minutes? Four minutes perhaps. Fortunately for France, he was not far from the heart of the city. He wanted to reach the bus station in Somerset Square.