Stigart sat back. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Chalmers would get himself into trouble. And it could be deep trouble when dealing with a killer like Mankovich.
He gave Commander Renton a call and told him what had happened. Renton said that he would put out a check on the taxi companies. He told him that it was a long shot but that all the companies had computer tracking systems that logged the positions of their drivers so that they could check who was in the area at that time.
Stigart then called his friend, Inspector Linham, to ask him to try and find out if there was any way that the Professor’s movements could be traced. The two men soon realized that they had drawn a blank.
“Wherever he is, I only hope that he doesn’t make any rash moves,” said Stigart. “But at least we can assume that he’s tracked Mankovich down; something G9 didn’t do.”
“Let’s hope that luck is on the Professor’s side,” said Linham. “He’ll certainly need it if he’s up against this Mankovich.”
***
The first thing that he noticed was that pervasive smell: a mixture of tar, diesel oil, hemp and saltwater; then he felt the throbbing headache. It brought back memories of his student days at Cambridge when had awakened after a night on the town. He rolled over and sat up. He surveyed the small tidy cabin. A single bunk bed, a polished oak table and a bookcase full of paperbacks from the Seamen’s Mission. So it was not a Navy ship, he thought. A Merchant vessel by the looks of it. There was very little swell. We must be tied up at a wharf on the Thames, he thought. He tried the door but the handle would not budge. He went to the small basin and ran his head under the cold tap for several minute before he felt well enough to try and figure out where he was, and more importantly, how to get out.
There was no phone. If there had been, whoever had locked him in had removed it. He peered through the port hole. He could just make out a group of buildings that looked like the old Woolwich Arsenal Barracks. If whoever was running this outfit is planning to sail down the Thames and across to Europe, or wherever, it will take them at least 12 hours to get out of territorial waters, he thought. But then what? His head still buzzed as he sat back down on the bunk. Mankovich must have drugged him; the beer perhaps, or more likely the coffee. He recalled that it had a bitter aftertaste. So Mankovich had it all figured out. At least his friend Jack was in the clear, but Henry Gunter had duped him, and quite a few others as well. When the police question Gunter, he’s bound to talk to save his own skin, Ralph decided. Failing that, Frank Dobson would testify that Gunter and Mankovich had asked him to fake a manuscript and that he had given them Alvaro Caminah’s address. It sounded a bit tenuous, even as he thought it. And money talks. If Mankovich was as wealthy as he put on, then a good barrister would get him off. But then there were the fake manuscripts and the trail leading from Kirby’s works to T24 and the writing of Elias Factor – 2015. No, it all hinged on finding Mankovich in possession of the manuscripts and Henry Gunter agreeing to give evidence against his uncle. Of course none of his surmising would come to pass unless he managed to escape. He heard a ship’s siren. They were preparing to cast off.
***
Commander Renton grudgingly agreed to see Katie. She had refused to be put off by the woman on reception at New Scotland Yard. Katie was shown into his office. She counteracted Renton’s protests about Ralph being involved in a murder case by telling him that she knew about the fake manuscripts.
“So what has been done to find him? I know about Mankovich and how the manuscripts were stolen. The number I gave Ralph was probably a link to his visit to Kirby and that damn container. I found it on a screwed up scrap of paper in my car. Ralph must have dropped it there when I took him to the hospital.” She paused to regain her breath.
“Have a seat, Professor Eggleton. Perhaps you’d best start from the beginning.”
She explained that Ralph had been attacked when he went to Maidstone to see Alan Kirby at Engineering Solutions, and how he was convinced that Kirby and Mankovich were in it together. She also told him that she was certain that if Ralph had made contact with Mankovich that he would most likely have agreed to meet him somewhere, London most probably since his car was still in the garage in Surbiton.
“I can tell you, Miss Eggleton, that we believe he did meet Mankovich in London. Colonel Stigart had him followed. But I’m afraid we don’t know what happened after that. Again all I can tell you is that he was last seen in the London Bridge area.”
“Mankovich’s holding him somewhere, I just know it.”
“I can assure you that we’re leaving no stone unturned, Professor Eggleton. We’re checking every ship in the Thames Basin, we have checks on the roads leading to Dover as well as to every other port, and the airports authorities are on full alert.”
Renton hated dealing with civilians, but in this case he realised that sitting in front of him was his only link to Mankovich. If only she could remember the phone number that was written on that piece of screwed up paper.
“You didn’t by any chance keep the number you gave to Professor Chalmers?”
Katie read out the number.
“Before you ask, I’ve already tried it and there was no answer,” Katie said.
Renton reached for his phone and after a few moments of rapid exchanges he put it down.
“It’s for a disused warehouse in the Old Kent road. We’ll send an officer to check it out right away.”
“And in the meantime?”
“There’s a ship over at the East India Docks that we’ve had our eye on for a while. We checked it for contraband but found nothing. I have a team in that area. It sounds as though your intuition may have been spot on.” He had just stopped himself saying, ’female intuition’. God knows how that would have gone down, he mused.
***
Ralph felt the throb of the engines and the sound of ropes being flung off bollards and shouts and rattles of chains as the hawsers were hauled on board. The door opened and Mankovich stepped into the cabin.
“Good morning, Professor. I trust you slept well.”
Again that sickly smile. Ralph cursed under his breath. If he had been more alert he could have caught Mankovich off guard and swung a punch at him. Although in his present state he was not sure how effective that might have been. Mankovich must have noticed.
“Let’s be civilized about this, Professor. I know that we can never be friends, but at least we can avoid any unpleasantness. Why don’t you come up to the bridge and meet our Captain? I’m sure that Leo would enjoy the company of a Lieutenant Commander as we head out to sea. By the way, we’ve cleared customs. Leo’s Trinity House licensed, so we shouldn’t be disturbed.”
Ralph followed his captor out along the deck and up a short flight of steps to the bridge. For a moment he thought of tackling Mankovich as his foot swung past on the metal rungs, but he missed his chance.
“Professor, meet Captain Leo Capella.” The bearded man at the wheel merely grunted in reply. Ralph put him in his late 40’s, rugged and fit: not a man you would want to upset.
“Leo, this is Lieutenant Commander Chalmers. He will be our guest until we get out of UK waters.”
“Welcome aboard, Commander. There’s coffee in that flask and the steward serves lunch at 12.00 hours.” Ralph detected a note of deference in Capella’s voice. Obviously his rank had made an impression.
As he turned to pour himself a coffee, Ralph noticed a small inflatable nosing out from behind one of the wooden piers. He saw four men on board. The Captain and Mankovich were looking straight ahead. He prayed they were the authorities.
He knew the rules of navigation on the river were strict and he heard a whispered, “slow ahead” from the Captain whose hand was out of view on the throttle. He heard the familiar ring of the Engine Order Telegraph.
“Well now’ you two have met, I’ll escort you back to your cabin, Professor.”
As they headed back, Mankovich remarked, “I noticed you eyeing the shi
p-to-shore phone. No doubt you’d like to say goodbye to the lovely Katie Eggleton.”
It might have been the sickening smile or the wave of nausea that followed a cup of strong black coffee on an empty stomach, or it may have been the swine daring to use Katie’s name. Ralph landed a hard punch to his tormentor’s stomach and planted a classic upper-cut to his jaw. As Mankovich went down on one knee, someone grabbed Ralph from behind and threw him unceremoniously against an iron bulkhead. His first thoughts were that one of the crew must have been standing behind him all the time. Then he noticed that the four men that he had seen in the inflatable were now inside the wheelhouse and were pulling a semi-conscious Mankovich to his feet. Someone must have thrown a grappling hook over the side so they could climb aboard. Obviously they were not the police after all. They dragged the semi-conscious Mankovich out onto the stairway and lowered him over the side into the inflatable.
Ralph climbed unsteadily to his feet. The Captain was still staring steadfastly ahead.
“Are you okay Commander?”
“Just about. But what happened?”
“I was concentrating on the navigation. I saw nothing.” He laughed.
“Look what’s going on?”
Leo shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I just follow orders from whoever pays me. The highest bidder gets my loyalty.
“But who were those men, and what happens now?”
“I have no idea. All I know is that they paid me and the money’s in my safe. I thought I recognized what could have been a Jewish swear word. My guess is that they were Israelis, but I don’t want to know anymore.” He paused and turned to Ralph. “We seem to be clear of our visitors, so I’ll turn the ship over to my First Officer while we have some lunch. It’s been a busy morning, and dare I say it, a fruitful one for both of us.”
Ralph tried to take it all in. His head was still fuddled from whatever drug Mankovich had given him. He wondered if Mankovich had double-crossed the wrong person. A rival gang, perhaps, or had word got around that he had the Magna Carta originals and someone wanted in on the ransom money?
They sat down in the officers’ mess. It may have been a Michelin starred restaurant with its linen napkins laid out on a starched white table-cloth, silver cutlery and iced water in crystal glasses. The steward served soup, followed by Dover Sole and rice. Leo Capella acted the perfect host. He chatted amiably to Ralph about how as a child he had always admired the British Navy Fleet when it had anchored at his home town of Naples. Over coffee Ralph decided that he had played his part; now he wanted some answers.
“What was Mankovich planning to do?”
“He wanted me to have you thrown overboard once we were out to sea.” He paused and sipped his coffee. “I was not happy with this, of course, but there was a lot of money at stake, and I have expensive mistresses,” He laughed.
“And what happens to me now?”
“You go home.”
“Just like that?”
“Not quite. I have a favour to ask.” He sat back in his chair as the steward poured more coffee. “It’ll take about seven hours to reach Sheerness. I’d be grateful if you’d be my guest until we get there and I can arrange for a boat to come out and pick you up.”
Ralph realised that this was not merely a polite invitation. He waited for the Captain to explain.
“From there I can be well on my way before you report what has happened to your police. When you tell them that you were drugged and brought aboard my boat where your life was threatened, well, you can see how it will look for me.”
Leo held his hands out with his palms up. He was no boy scout, but of the two, he preferred the sea captain over the evil Mankovich. Ralph was relieved that the Israelis in the inflatable had paid the higher price.
“Did Mankovich bring any goods or boxes aboard while you were in London?” Ralph asked. He had tacitly agreed to Leo’s request, and now he felt that he was entitled to a few more answers.
“No, only a leather bag. I met him at the taxi that brought you both. Up until then I thought he would be alone; he had said nothing about an additional passenger.”
Ralph liked Leo in spite of himself. He knew that he should insist on being put ashore straight away, but Leo was right. Another few hours would mean nothing to him but a great deal to the captain of a commercial ship. He would lose his license, and could even face prison if the authorities probed into his other transactions.
“Let’s get back to the bridge, Captain. It’s been a long time since I last saw Sheerness.”
It was early evening before the ship stopped. Ralph said goodbye and climbed down the swinging rope ladder to the waiting boat. As they headed for shore, he took one last look at the rust-streaked vessel as she headed out into open waters. He hoped that Leo and his many mistresses would make good use of the money that he had collected from Mankovich and the people that had abducted him.
Once ashore, Ralph found the nearest phone booth. It was outside the railway station, and he waited impatiently while a teenager chatted to what he imagined was his girlfriend. At last it was his turn and he got through to Katie.
“What on earth have you been doing Ralph? I was worried sick. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m in Sheerness.”
“Where on earth is that? And more to the point what are you doing there? We thought Mankovich had abducted you.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ll come and get you.”
“No, it’s faster for me to get a train to London. I’ll get a taxi to your place from the station.”
“Okay, but call me when you get to London.”
“I will. Oh, and don’t say anything to the police just yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I get there. But I need to go. I’m outside the station at a phone box and I think the train must be due soon.”
He rang off and realized that he had said very little. As he ran for the train, he hoped that Leo was now well out to sea. In a way he envied him.
***
The train journey had been a pain. The connection from Sheerness to Sittingbourne was what used to be called a branch line. A taxi would have been better for the 6 mile journey. At least Sittingbourne was on the Chatham main line, and his train was soon speeding towards London. Ralph fell asleep in spite of the two coffees he had grabbed on the platform while waiting for his connection. The taxi cab dropped him at Katie’s place in Chelsea.
“You look a wreck, Ralph Chalmers,” she cried, giving him a tight hug. He gave her a kiss and for once did not immediately look for some distraction to interrupt the moment.
“I’ll run you a bath while you get out of those clothes,” Katie said. “I’ve got some of that Greek food from the deli, and once you’ve had a chance to get yourself cleaned up and have something to eat, you can tell me all about it.”
He was beyond protesting. After a good soak he looked in the mirror at a massive bruise on his side that he guessed must have resulted from being thrown against the ships bulkhead. He also discovered that his knuckles were bruised. No doubt wherever Mankovich was, he would be nursing a busted jaw.
Katie handed him a towel.
“Enough of that. Get some clothes on and then we’ll have something to eat while you tell me what kind of mischief you’ve got up to this time.”
“Just give me a minute,” Ralph said.
It felt good to be home.
______________________
Chapter 13
Colonel Stigart had asked Ralph to meet him at Starbucks in the Horseferry Road. It was a place where, as he had put it, you could be anonymous. He wanted to brief him on the upcoming meeting at the Home Office in Marsham Street which was less than a 5 minute walk from the coffee shop. Ralph looked around at the assortment of shoppers, tourists, office workers and business people in the cafe. They were all intent on getting their morning caffeine fix. The posers sat next to the
large plate glass windows as they tapped away at their laptops, a large latte and a blueberry muffin within easy reach. Ralph felt sorry for anyone who had that much need to be noticed.
One or two early shoppers chatted as they planned their day out in London while the ubiquitous tourists peered at their London guide books, tired before they had begun their day of sightseeing.
He recognized the Colonel as he came in: straight back, neat moustache, Saville Row suit. He was the quintessential Englishman. Hardly inconspicuous, Ralph mused. Stigart glanced around as he closed the door.
“Ralph. Good to see you,” he said as he pulled up a chair and smiled at the young woman at the next table.
“Coffee, Robert?”
“No, I just had breakfast at my Club.” He lowered his voice even though the background noise would drown out a foghorn. “Thanks for the update, Ralph. I’ve kept everyone informed. There’ve been a few developments since we spoke, as you can imagine. More of that later, but right now I want to give you a ‘heads up’ for today’s meeting.”
He outlined who would be there and emphasized that it was more of a political dog and pony show than the Scotland Yard debriefings that Ralph had attended at Scotland Yard.
“The people from the Home Office, or Department as they’re now called, are using the meeting to tell us what they’ve decided. So not to put too fine a point on it, our role is to listen and obey.”
“But I’ve only given you an outline of what happened, Robert. Surely someone there, at least Renton, will want chapter and verse?”
“Not this time. As I said, today’s just show-time. Your job is to sit back and enjoy the performance.”
Ralph realised that the real purpose of their pre-meeting chat was for Stigart to stop him making a fool of himself at the meeting.
They chatted on about sailing and how the area where Stigart lived was being threatened with a new road that would by-pass the nearby town. As they walked along Marsham Street, the Colonel strode at a fast pace. He only needs an umbrella and a bowler hat and the tourists would be queuing up for a ‘selfie’ with a genuine Englishman, Ralph mused.
The Magna Carta Murders (The Ralph Chamers Mysteries Book 12) Page 13