by John Creasey
“Yes, sir.”
Arkwright could not hide his smile of satisfaction as he went out.
“If Carne is on the up and up, and Arkwright makes a mess of it and lets the wife know . . .” Lemaitre began.
“He won’t,” said Gideon, with a bluff confidence. “He’ll make sure he doesn’t put a foot wrong. Oh, damn the telephone.” He picked up the receiver at once. “Gideon,” he greeted, and listened. Then, “Good evening, Mr. Lyon, I’m sorry I didn’t ring you, I’ve been rushing round all the evening.”
“I can well believe it,” said Gabriel Lyon, in his gentle voice. “I have been fairly active myself. Mr. Gideon, will you forgive me if I ask a question which you might regard as impertinent?”
“I don’t have to answer,” Gideon said.
“I know that only too well,” said Lyon, but he didn’t give the hint of a laugh which might have suggested he was in good humour. “Are the Cowans and Ada Lee’s mother under arrest?”
“Yes.”
“On what charges?”
Gideon said: “Are you acting for them?”
“Until I know the charges, I cannot decide.”
Gideon explained briskly, and after a short pause Lyon said very quietly: “So they were deeply involved in the training of children, as well as other matters.”
“Yes.”
“I shall not act for them,” Lyon said, “but I shall continue to act for young Ada Lee. Have you accounted for all the children involved?”
“We’ve found all of the mothers and children involved except a Mrs. Wray and her son Peter. If you can help us to find out where they are, it’ll be a load off my mind.”
“Anything I can find out I’ll pass on,” Lyon promised.
Peter was breathing, but he hadn’t moved for some time. The dark cupboard had that sickly smell.
“Listen, darling, you’ve got to take a hold on yourself,” said Carne into the telephone. “You can drive as well as anyone. Meet me at the Green Man, top of Putney Hill. If I’m not there, I’ll be at the station, in the High Street.”
“Bob, I hate . . .” Marion began, but checked herself, because she didn’t want him to despise her.
She had been going to say that she hated driving down steep hills.
Bob wasn’t at the Green Man, and she started the car again, and headed for the top of the steep hill which led to Putney High Street.
The headlights of cars coming up the hill seemed to make it even steeper than it was, and she clenched her teeth.
“Don’t be a fool,” she breathed. Holding the wheel very tightly and moving into third gear, she went over the brow. On her side, the road ahead was clear. Her foot touched the brake all the time, she was so determined not to go too fast. The car gathered speed, in spite of the low gear, and she was not expert enough to change down further; she was genuinely frightened, and still clenching her teeth.
She put her foot on the brake, and felt something odd; a lack of resistance. The car didn’t slacken speed. She tried again and nothing happened; and she screamed:
“Bob, Bob, Bob!”
She felt the steering wheel swinging in her hand and turned towards the kerb, which seemed to rush at her.
19
SEARCH
Gideon opened the front door of his house just after midnight. The small landing light was on, but all the rooms were in darkness, and were quiet. He closed the door quietly and then put on the hall light and walked along to the kitchen. For the first time since Woodrow had reported, he smiled; not broadly, but with a smile which would have done his wife good had she known how it had to be forced out of him. For on the kitchen table was an upturned pudding basin, keeping sandwiches fresh, and by the side was a tea-tray with everything ready, all he had to do was boil the kettle. Standing by all this was a bottle of beer.
He made tea, ate sandwiches, and went upstairs at half-past twelve. He stepped heavily, for his spirits were low. He could not prevent himself from accepting part of the blame for the fact that the Wray boy couldn’t be traced.
He went into the bedroom cautiously. Long since, he had put in a low-wattage lamp, just enough for him to see by when he got in late; light rather than movement disturbed Kate. There she lay, sleeping, the clothes drawn right up to her chin, a hair-net keeping her thick, wavy hair in place. As he undressed, she stirred, and said in a vague and sleepy voice: “Hallo, dear.”
“You don’t want to wake up, Kate.”
“G’night.”
She was breathing evenly again when Gideon got into bed. He thought that he was tired, but soon began to realise that he wasn’t going to get off to sleep. He kept picturing the woman striking the child, at Hyde Park Corner. Good God, that was a month ago! And then, pale and subdued – cowed – in Petticoat Lane, a week later.
It was warm, and soon Gideon felt too hot. He turned, cautiously, but couldn’t lie on his other side for long. He was wider awake than he had been before, moving a leg, an arm, shifting his great body, his head, even his hands. It was no use, he would have to get up and go downstairs and try to read. He pushed the bedclothes back, and as he did so, Kate asked in a wide-awake voice: “Can’t you sleep?”
“No.”
“Why not, dear?”
“Oh, this and that,” he answered.
She stretched out and put on a bedside lamp, then hitched herself up a little on her pillows. For once, her hair-net kept in the right position. The deep V of her nightdress showed the full, curving beauty of her breast. She drew the sides of the V together, without thinking, and as Gideon also sat up, she said: “Did you have supper?”
“Oh, yes, thanks. Jolly good.”
“What’s on your mind, George?”
He told her, quietly, slowly, deliberately. In fact he was thinking aloud. There were the things left undone because he hadn’t been thorough enough, and the things left undone by others – to whom he had given a lead. In a way, he was pleading with himself: that he should dedicate himself more so as to make these errors of omission impossible. He did not put this into plain words, but obviously it was on his mind. He looked up at the ceiling, across at the window, at the mirror where Kate was reflected but he was not, so far as he could see. He seldom looked at Kate herself, but they sat there together, his arm round her shoulders, his hand at her breast, almost impersonally.
“. . . the hell of it is, these kids,” he said. “I’m not thinking of this Peter Wray, except as an example of what’s happening. What kind of lives do they lead? What gets into the mind of a mother to do it to her child? And how many are there like it still? We’ve caught one group, that’s all. Hundreds upon hundreds, in one way or other, even those who aren’t being trained in crime, are being allowed to run around loose, the National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children deals with tens of thousands of cases a year. Until we can stop it, we’re going to have generation after generation of criminals, and we simply can’t stop it. Or we don’t seem able to.”
Kate said quietly: “It’s hardly your job, George.”
“Oh, no,” he said bitterly. “It’s not our job until they’re criminals. Even if we’re lucky enough to catch ‘em when they’re really young, they’ve had the training and they’ve been taught to think the police are a lot of brutes and bullies and the law a thing to laugh at. They’re sent to a home, or later to Borstal, and if you think every child who goes to a home or Borstal comes out cured, you’re wrong. Kate, I’ve been thinking about the kids I know. The kids in families where the mother and father are always in and out of jail, who run around in little gangs, and—”
He broke off.
All he was saying seemed futile. This eruption of thoughts which had simmered beneath the surface of his mind might ease the pressure a little, but that was all.
Kate couldn’t do anything, except listen; but she
did listen, and he believed that she understood.
She put her hand on his; there was nothing impersonal about the way she did that.
“Darling, you must get some sleep,” she said. “The first day you have off, we’ll talk about it again, not just snatch at it like this.” So she hoped to quieten his restlessness, and perhaps that would. “Couldn’t you make some arrangement to have all the men on the beats make a note of the children who seem worst off? I know it can’t be done officially, but I should think most of the men would help, and most of the Divisions, too. Once you really know how many bad cases there are, you might be able to do something with the N.S.P.C.C.”
That wasn’t soothing syrup.
His eyes were suddenly brighter. “That’s an idea,” he agreed, “we might be able to make something of it. Bless you, Kate.”
He slid his arms round her, and drew her close.
Afterwards, he slept, completely at peace.
There was no message at the house when he left at half-past eight; a bad sign, he decided. He drove faster than usual towards the Yard. The men on duty outside and the other C.I.D. men on their way or coming away from the offices were on the look-out anyhow, for Gideon’s mood had been enough to alert everyone. He slammed the door of his car and walked with springy strides towards the steps, hurried up them, greeted the Sergeant and the constable on duty in the hall, and found himself with two Superintendents going up in the lift.
“Don’t know what you’ve been doing to Arkwright,” one of them said.
“Sergeant Arkwright?”
“You know damned well it’s Sergeant Arkwright. He’s twice the man he was. Hear about last night?”
“What?”
“He spent the whole evening trying to find out more about this chap Carne or Clayton, and about eleven o’clock found out that Carne’s wife had met with an accident. She wasn’t badly hurt, though. Brakes failed on Putney Hill, but she’d changed down to low gear and had the sense to turn into the kerb. The moment he heard about it, Arkwright decided to have that car checked, and spent part of the night doing it himself. He thinks the brakes might have been tampered with, but can’t be sure yet.”
“Keep him on the job,” urged Gideon.
“Oh, I shall.”
The lift stopped. Gideon hurried along to his own office. The door was ajar, as always, and when he went in there was Lemaitre and an elderly Sergeant, putting the finishing touches to the report of the night’s crimes. Gideon slapped his hat on a peg, and said breezily: “’Morning, you two. Anything about that Wray kid?”
“Haven’t even found out where the mother lives,” answered Lemaitre. “Don’t know what you’re so steamed up about, George, she might be hiding out wherever she lives, might even have taken the kid out of town until things cool down a bit.” Lemaitre turned to the reports, of all and sundry crimes.
A telephone bell rang. Lemaitre lifted his receiver, and then looked up at Gideon and said: “Hemmy wants you.” Gideon plucked his instrument up, and said almost sharply: “Gideon. Yes, Hemmy, I—”
Lemaitre and the Sergeant saw the way his expression changed, saw the bleakness fade, saw his smile grow, and realised how real a human being he was. He sat on the corner of his desk, one foot touching the floor, listening and nodding as if Hemmingway could see him, and finally saying: “That’s fine. Wonderful. You really are going out in a blaze of glory! Yes, I’ll be over.”
He rang off.
He looked across at Lemaitre.
“They found the Wray kid,” he reported. “The bitch had locked him in a cupboard in the back room where they lived. Hemmingway had asked that copper, Smith, to be seconded to him, as Smith knew the woman pretty well. Smith’s description did the trick, they soon found the room. Kid must have been there for twenty-four hours. He was in a stupor, but is coming through all right.”
“Another one in the bag,” Lemaitre said, with deep satisfaction, and grinned. “We certainly do get ‘em in the end, don’t we, George? Well, I can’t say I’m sorry tomorrow’s Sunday, it’s been quite a week.”
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
'The Baron' (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
'Department 'Z'' (28 titles)
'Dr. Palfrey Novels' (34 titles)
'Gideon of Scotland Yard' (22 titles)
'Inspector West' (43 titles)
'Sexton Blake' (5 titles)
'The Toff' (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey's account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel's Act in 1829.
'The Baron' Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
The Baron and the Beggar (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
If Anything Happens to Hester (Black for the Baron) (1959)
Salute for the Baron (1960)
The Baron Branches Out (A Branch for the Baron) (1961)
The Baron and the Stolen Legacy (Bad for the Baron) (1962)
A Sword for the Baron (The Baron and the Mogul Swords) (1963)
The Baron on Board (1964)
The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle (1964)
Sport for the Baron (1966)
Affair for the Baron (1967)
The Baron and the Missing Old Masters (1968)
The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait (1969)
Last Laugh for the Baron (1970)
The Baron Goes A-Buying (1971)
The Baron and the Arrogant Artist (1972)
Burgle the Baron (1973)
The Baron - King Maker (1975)
Love for the Baron (1979)
'Department Z' Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
The Death Miser (1932)
Redhead (1934)
First Came a Murder (1934)
Death Round the Corner (1935)
The Mark of the Crescent (1935)
Thunder in Europe (1936)
The Terror Trap
(1936)
Carriers of Death (1937)
Days of Danger (1937)
Death Stands By (1938)
Menace! (1938)
Murder Must Wait (1939)
Panic! (1939)
Death by Night (1940)
The Island of Peril (1940)
Sabotage (1941)
Go Away Death (1941)
The Day of Disaster (1942)
Prepare for Action (1942)
No Darker Crime (1943)
Dark Peril (1944)
The Peril Ahead (1946)
The League of Dark Men (1947)
The Department of Death (1949)
The Enemy Within (1950)
Dead or Alive (1951)
A Kind of Prisoner (1954)
The Black Spiders (1957)
Doctor Palfrey Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Traitor's Doom (1942)
The Legion of the Lost (1943)
The Valley of Fear (The Perilous Country) (1943)
Dangerous Quest (1944)
Death in the Rising Sun (1945)
The Hounds of Vengeance (1945)
Shadow of Doom (1946)
The House of the Bears (1946)
Dark Harvest (1947)
The Wings of Peace (1948)
The Sons of Satan (1948)
The Dawn of Darkness (1949)
The League of Light (1949)
The Man Who Shook the World (1950)
The Prophet of Fire (1951)
The Children of Hate (The Killers of Innocence; The Children of Despair) (1952)
The Touch of Death (1954)
The Mists of Fear (1955)
The Flood (1956)
The Plague of Silence (1958)
Dry Spell (The Drought) (1959)
The Terror (1962)
The Depths (1963)
The Sleep (1964)
The Inferno (1965)