Contraband

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘As for you! you’ve asked for all that’s coming to you. That is if you care about the girl. It’s she who’s doublecrossed us: given away somehow the place where we meant to do this job tonight. But, blast your soul, I had time to phone; so she’ll be for the high jump. I’ll go to prison but you can go and buy a wreath for her.’

  Gregory’s brown face had gone a shade paler. He did not reply. Instead, he snatched up the telephone and, a moment later, got the operator.

  ‘This is police business,’ he said, ‘urgent! The last call that was made from here—only a couple of minutes ago—what was it?’

  There was a short pause then he turned to Wells.

  ‘Thank God! There’s an intelligent man on the end of this line. This brute called the Quex Park number and said: “21. 35. 19”. He repeated it twice before we got him.’

  In a second Wells had out his note-book. ‘21, “Full fathoms five thy father lies”—that’s here, 35, “Shake off slumber and beware”—19, “The watchdogs bark:”—two lines of warning; that’s evidently their code signal for an extreme emergency.’

  Gregory dug his nails into his palms. The warning had been given. Quex Park was over twenty miles away as the crow flies. If Gavin Fortescue believed, as the Limper obviously did, that Sabine had given the information about the night landing which had enabled the police to lay their trap her last hope of any clemency from him would be gone. He might be giving orders now for her murder before he got away safely to France.

  Little beads of sweat stood out on Gregory’s forehead as he realised what a colossal blunder he had made. He should have gone straight to the Park and chanced everything instead of coming here with the police in the hope of obtaining knowledge which would improve his situation later. By waiting for the police launches to come up Marrowfat had unwittingly bungled the affair, and allowed the Limper time to telephone, wrecking all Gregory’s hopes of a successful raid on Quex Park.

  While he stood there, sick with anger and apprehension, one of Wells’s men had been running over the Limper and emptying the contents of his pockets on to a kitchen dresser. Among them was a buff form.

  Wells snatched it up. It was a telegram, despatched from Birchington that afternoon to Creed, Poste Restante, Rochester. He read out the numbers on it: ‘44. 32. 27’.

  The Inspector glanced swiftly down the lines in his notebook and said: ‘44, “On the bats wing I do fly”—32, “Open-eyed conspiracy”—27, “Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell”.’

  Gregory stepped forward. ‘That means the fleet of planes are out again as well as the barges and “open-eyed conspiracy”—good God! Gavin guessed the game was up this afternoon so he’s risking everything on a last throw to land his bunch of communist agitators tonight.’

  ‘That’s it,’ exclaimed Wells, ‘but where? “Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell” gives the place all right but it’s one we haven’t had yet.’

  A new light of hope lit Gregory’s eyes. If the planes were coming in at that moment with the most important cargo of all it was almost certain that Gavin Fortescue would be there to meet them. He would have left Sabine at Quex Park, so although a warning had been sent there it could only be telephoned on to him, and he might be many miles away on some desolate stretch of coastline to the south or east. Perhaps, when the warning reached him, he would leave the country at once with the returning planes without risking a return to the Park to deal with Sabine. On the other hand he might have taken Sabine with him; in which case her situation would be every bit as desperate as it had been before. In a sudden spate of words he voiced his thoughts to Wells.

  The Limper laughed. ‘That’s right. You’re clever enough and a hell of a lot of good may it do you. The Chief’ll get out all right while you’re batting your head about sea-nymphs. And you bet he’s got Sabine with him.’

  Rudd, who was lurking now in a corner of the room, said quickly: ‘Sea-nymphs. That sounds like mermaids ter me. I reckon the old man’s at some bit of a pub called the Mermaid, or the Mermaid Tavern, or the Mermaid Arms. Must be a local of that name somewhere round abart this coast.’

  ‘Good for you,’ nodded Gerry Wells. ‘Run along to the shacks will you. Tell the Superintendent we’ve got our man and ask him if he can come along with the local inspectors if he’s mopped up the crowd on the barges.’

  Rudd departed at the double.

  The Superintendent had already dealt with the main body of the smugglers. Rudd met him with Sir Pellinore and the Chief Constable already on his way to the cottage; so that no more than three minutes elapsed before they all crowded into the little room.

  In a few brief sentences Wells told his superior of the call they had traced, the telegram, and its interpretation. Marrowfat spread out his map upon the bare deal table, but he shook his head angrily.

  ‘Mermaid Tavern! Mermaid Arms! must be dozens of pubs with names like that scattered round the Cinque Ports and the North Kent coast.’

  ‘That’s right,’ sneered the Limper. ‘I’ll bet you fifty quid you don’t pick on the right one.’

  The Chief Constable consulted with his principal officers from various districts who had pushed their way in behind him. Marrowfat proved right: each of them added to the list by some little house or tea-garden hotel called the ‘Mermaid’, in towns and villages as far apart as Hythe, Broadstairs and Whitstable.

  Marrowfat and his colleagues acted with amazing promptitude. In less than five minutes the Yard Squad had been disbanded and told off to accompany local officers to twenty different places on the Kent Coast; where a ‘Mermaid’ tavern might prove the key to Lord Gavin’s secret rendezvous.

  Wells was left in charge of the Limper while the Superintendent’s party hurried off to Canterbury; which he had selected as the most central place for their new headquarters.

  Five minutes after their arrival the little kitchen-living-room of the cottage was empty again, except for Gregory, Rudd, Wells, the Limper and the two officers who held him.

  Gregory stood there staring at the floor. He was faced once more with an appalling choice of courses and if he selected the wrong one Sabine’s life would prove the forfeit.

  With the whole of the Kent constabulary in a ferment of activity there was little doubt that they would discover the new base within the next half hour. A fleet of aeroplanes might land at a quiet spot unobserved upon a normal night but they could not do so with hundreds of police out on the watch for them all over the county. Should he wait until news came in, over the humming telephone wires, which ‘Mermaid’ Tavern or hotel was the focus for the aeroplane landing; or should he make direct for Quex Park on the assumption that the Limper was lying and Lord Gavin had left Sabine there.

  The more he thought of it the more certain it seemed that if Gavin Fortescue had made his last throw that night he would surely have already arranged to leave the country by one of the returning aeroplanes himself; therefore he would have taken Sabine to the ‘Mermaid’, wherever that might be, with him.

  How long would the police take to find it? Half an hour, an hour perhaps. By that time it might be too late, or, if they were lucky enough to arrive before Sabine was murdered and Lord Gavin gone, she would be arrested with the others. Gregory saw clearly now that, somehow, he must find out where the ‘Mermaid’ was and not only get there, but get there before the police.

  He glanced at Wells. ‘Can you spare me a moment outside?’

  The Inspector nodded and followed him from the cottage into the dark, now silent, night.

  ‘Listen,’ said Gregory. ‘I want you to do something for me.’

  ‘What?’ asked Wells cautiously.

  ‘I want you to call your chaps out here and remain with them while I have a word alone with the Limper.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Never mind why. Rudd can remain there with me. The Limper won’t get away from both of us and you’ll be outside with your men to pinch him again if he did manage to knock the two of us out.’

  Wells
shook his head. ‘Sorry, I can’t do that. He’s under arrest.’

  ‘You can—and you’re darned well going to,’ Gregory said with a friendly grin. ‘You’ll be a made man when this case is over, and, in a few years’ time, the youngest Superintendent in the force. You’ve done a lot to deserve that yourself but you owe it even more to the help I’ve given you. You remember too the night I jumped out of your aeroplane; risking my neck with that blasted parachute. You promised then you’d give me a break later if I needed it and a few minutes’ conversation with the Limper isn’t much to ask.’

  ‘You win,’ smiled Wells. ‘I’ll call the boys out and post them by the windows. In you go.’

  A moment later Gregory was facing the Limper across the kitchen table. Rudd stood, a silent spectator, in the corner.

  ‘Now,’ said Gregory grimly, ‘you’re going to tell me the place indicated by that phrase “sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell”. I’ve got no time to waste—so be quick about it.’

  ‘The hell I am!’ the Limper sneered.

  Gregory pulled the table to one side. ‘Rudd, you’ll stay where you are,’ he said quietly, ‘and see fair play.’ Next second his left fist shot out and caught the Limper in the stomach.

  The Limper had already raised his arms to guard his face He doubled up under the unexpected blow. Gregory’s right fist jerked like a piston and catching him on the ear sent him sprawling to the floor.

  ‘Now, are you going to talk?’ rasped Gregory, standing over him.

  For a moment the Limper lay gasping for breath upon the ground. Suddenly he dived for Gregory’s legs, clutched him below the knees, and sent him hurtling backwards. But Gregory kicked out as he fell. The Limper lost his hold and the two men rolled in different directions.

  Both staggered to their feet and stood panting angrily as they faced each other. The Limper was much the bigger of the two, but Gregory was far more agile. He feinted, then hit out again, and his fist crunched on the Limper’s nose.

  The Limper staggered as water gushed up into his eyes, blinding him momentarily; but he shook his head and charged in like a bull, raining a hail of blows upon his smaller opponent.

  Gregory grabbed at the edge of the table and fell. The Limper came down on top of him and kneed him in the stomach.

  For a second Gregory squirmed under him, white with agony, then he buried both his thumbs in the flesh of the Limper’s neck, gave his head a sudden violent twist and rolled from under him.

  Clear of each other, they stumbled up again, bleeding and breathless. The Limper charged but, quick as a cat, Gregory leapt to one side and dealt him a terrific blow on the side of the chin as his head shot forward.

  The floor shook under the weight of the Limper’s body as he fell sideways on it. He muttered something then lay there, face downwards, on the boards.

  ‘Now will you talk,’ gasped Gregory. ‘If you don’t, I’ll beat you till you’re dead. I’ve got to know and the life of such scum as you isn’t going to stop me.’

  The Limper pulled himself up on to his hands and knees. ‘You devil,’ he croaked, ‘I won’t. You can do your damnedest.’

  ‘You will. I’m going to make you.’ As the Limper came rocking to his feet Gregory caught him another frightful blow full in the mouth, sending him crashing backwards into a corner.

  He lay there moaning; blood trickling from his broken nose and the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Talk, damn you,’ shouted Gregory, his eyes blazing. ‘If you don’t I’ll murder you.’

  Groaning, the Limper feebly shook his head.

  Gregory seized him by the collar of his jacket and threw him over on his face. ‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘Rudd, get me that clothes line.’

  Rudd jumped to obey. In spite of the Limper’s renewed struggles they soon had his wrists tied tightly together behind his back with one end of the stout cord. Then, between them, they hauled his heavy body across the floor.

  ‘Take the other end of the line and put it over that big hook on the door,’ Gregory ordered Rudd. ‘This bird is going to squeal if I have to break both his arms to make him do it.’

  Rudd ran the cord over the hook, which was about five feet from the floor, keeping the loose end of the line in his hands.

  ‘Right, heave away,’ Gregory said tonelessly.

  Rudd obeyed with a will. As he drew the line taut the Limper’s pinioned wrists were drawn up behind his back until his arms were stretched to their limit and began to bear the weight of his prostrate body.

  ‘Go on, heave I said,’ shot out Gregory mercilessly.

  As Rudd threw his whole weight on the cord the Limper’s shoulders came off the ground with a jerk and his head hung down towards the floor between them. He let out a sudden gasp of agony.

  ‘Are you talking?’ asked Gregory, with a sudden quietness.

  ‘Let me down—let me down,’ moaned the tortured man.

  ‘Not till you talk,’ said Gregory pitilessly, ‘and I haven’t finished yet by half.’

  As the Limper remained silent he strode over to the gas stove; picked up a wax taper and lit it.

  In two strides he was back beside the hanging man. He pushed the lighted taper a few inches below the Limper’s face for a second then withdrew it quickly.

  ‘See that?’ he asked. ‘You’ll tell me the truth about that message or I’ll burn your eyes out.’

  ‘Good God, sir, you can’t!’ exclaimed Rudd, suddenly paling. ‘It—it’s fiendish.’

  Gregory swung on him. ‘You fool! My woman’s life depends upon my loosening this brute’s tongue and I mean to do it.’

  Rudd shuddered. ‘Sorry, sir. Looked at like that o’ course you’re right.’

  Gregory thrust the taper under the Limper’s face again, nearer this time, but only for an instant.

  Suddenly he let out a wail and cried: ‘All right, I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Go on,’ ordered Gregory, holding the taper ready, so that he could push it under the man’s face again if he regained his courage; but the Limper was broken now and he sobbed out in gasping breaths: ‘You—you got the message wrong—it wasn’t sea-nymphs—or mermaids. “Knell’s” the key word in the sentence. That means the Bell tower—Quex Park. The planes are landing in the Park itself tonight, but—but they’ll be gone before you get there—blast you!’

  ‘Let him go,’ snapped Gregory.

  Rudd loosed the straining cord letting the Limper’s body fall to the floor with a bang. They pulled it from the doorway and rushed outside. Wells was standing about fifteen yards away from the cottage.

  ‘What’ve you been up to?’ he asked dubiously.

  ‘Never mind. Your man’s inside, or what’s left of him,’ Gregory panted. ‘Bell was the word, not Mermaid. I give you that in return for what you’ve done for me. Think it out.’ With Rudd hard at his heels he dashed away into the darkness.

  23

  Where ‘Sea-Nymphs Hourly Ring his Knell’

  Side by side Gregory and Rudd dashed along the half-obscured footway to the shacks at Hook Quay. The police were still moving there and taking notes of the contents of the barges. A group of some thirty prisoners, heavily guarded, stood by the wharf ready to be marched away to the main road where a fleet of police vans would now be waiting. A car was parked at the end of the track which led inland and Gregory recognised it as the long low sports model in which he had previously seen the Limper; evidently it had brought him and his companion, half an hour earlier, to meet the barges.

  They hastened past it at a quick jog trot and away from the creek towards Old Hook. Another four minutes and they were in the car Rudd had parked there ready for their getaway; hurtling over the uneven track towards the level crossing and the road.

  ‘We’ll never make it, sir,’ gasped Rudd when he had partially regained his breath. ‘By road, Quex Park’s near on forty miles from here. Can’t do that much under the hour; even if we take a chance on being pinched by speed cops.’

  ‘God knows i
f we’ll be in time,’ Gregory groaned, ‘but we’ll be in Quex Park under a quarter of an hour—bar accidents.’

  ‘Go on, sir, that just ain’t possible.’

  ‘It is, you big sap. You don’t think I was ass enough to rely upon the car alone—do you? Before we left London I telephoned Heston and had a hired pilot fly my plane down here in readiness for us.’

  ‘S’truth! Mr. Gregory, you’re a wonder, but where is it?’

  ‘Parked on the racecourse half-way between Queenborough and Sheerness. That’s the only decent landing ground I could think of for the hired man to fly it to. We’ll be there in less than a couple of minutes.’

  They had already crossed, and re-crossed, the railway and were roaring down the straight of the second-class road to the south of it. A moment later they swung north on to a better road.’

  As Gregory pulled up he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. To his satisfaction, but momentary amazement, he found that it was only ten minutes past twelve. The smugglers had attempted their landing at a quarter to and all the excitement which had ensued, together with their brief journey, had occupied no more than twenty-five minutes.

  They flung themselves out of the car at the entrance of the racecourse and dashed in through a gate beside a tall deserted stand. Some bright flares were burning in the open space before it which picked out the silver wings of the waiting plane.

  The racecourse keeper and a couple of his men met them near the plane and began quick expostulations but Gregory brushed them aside with the terse explanation: ‘Police business. No time to talk.’

  A rapid handshake with the hired pilot; then Gregory and Rudd scrambled on board. The engine stuttered and burst into a roar. Another moment and the plane taxied forward sailing into the air. It banked steeply and swung away east by south, over Sheppey Island, then across the entrance of the Swale. They picked up the land again near the Reculvers and headed dead for Quex Park.

  The twenty miles of air were eaten up in less than seven minutes and, as they zoomed towards the tree-surrounded enclosures that were now so familiar, Gregory was sorely tempted to land upon one of the grassy stretches which he knew lay between the coppices. Next second he caught sight of lights right in the centre of the Park; Gavin Fortescue and his people were still there. To bring the plane down anywhere near them would give the alarm prematurely.