by Hilary Green
‘Yes,’ Stone agreed. Then added, ‘Well, it’s not the first time for him.’
Leo glanced at him. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning he’s had a lot of experience with drug cases.’
‘Drugs Squad?’ Leo asked.
Stone turned and led the way back to his car.
‘For a time. But that wasn’t really what I was thinking of.’ He opened the passenger door. ‘Let’s get in, shall we. It’s warmer.’
They settled themselves in the car. Leo said, ‘What were you thinking of—about Nick, I mean?’
Stone hesitated. Reticence about personal matters, his own and other people’s, was part of his nature. Yet there was something about the pre-dawn stillness and Leo’s closeness in the seat beside him which weakened his defences.
‘He was involved in that scene himself for a while. I don’t mean he used dope, at least nothing stronger than the occasional whiff of pot, but he had a girl-friend who was hooked on heroin.’
‘How did he get into that scene?’ Leo asked.
‘When he left school he wanted to get into the pop music world. It was the mid seventies when “dropping out” was still fashionable, if you remember, and it was all pot and protest songs—a hangover from the hippies and all that. Nick plays guitar and writes his own songs…
‘Still?’ Leo asked.
‘Well, sometimes. Catch him in the right mood and he’ll give you a sample. In those days he was convinced he could make a living at it. Nearly broke his parents’ hearts, I gather. He comes from a very respectable family—father’s a doctor somewhere in Warwickshire. Minor public school, all that—they were expecting to turn out a lawyer or another medic or something. Instead, they found they’d got a rebel on their hands. Anyway, he struggled on for a couple of years, just about keeping his head above water. To do him justice, he never asked his parents for a penny—his mother told me that, he didn’t. Then he met this girl—Jacky. She was doing the same kind of thing, but she was deeply into drugs before he ever met her. He tried for six months to help her kick the habit, then somebody sold her some bad dope and it killed her. It really broke Nick up. He went on a kind of one-man crusade against the pushers who had been responsible. Of course, it wasn’t long before he came up against the law. For a bit he wasn’t really sure whether they were on his side or against him.’ Stone grinned briefly. ‘I think he still has the same problem from time to time. Then he met up with a young det. sergeant who persuaded him that if he wanted to get back at the big guys who were really responsible the only way to do it was to join the police. So he did.’
‘That must have come as a bit of a shock, after the life he’d been leading,’ Leo commented.
‘I’m not sure who got the biggest shock, him or the police force,’ Stone agreed with a chuckle. ‘Anyhow, he survived his training somehow and eventually got transferred to the Drugs Squad, where he went through the London drug scene like the wrath of God. The trouble was, he was so successful that he outlived his usefulness—made himself too well known. His superiors couldn’t persuade him to keep a low profile and they were afraid they were going to have a fatality on their hands. Somebody brought him to Pascoe’s attention and he was recruited into Triple S.’
‘Bit of a contrast with the pot and flower-power scene,’ Leo said.
‘Not as much as you might think,’ Stone said quietly. ‘Nick’s an idealist, you see. Once he’d have been a crusader or a knight errant or something. Now…’
‘Now it’s Triple S?’ Leo laughed softly. ‘Is that how you see it, Stone—the modern equivalent of the Knights of Malta?’
‘Oh no,’ he laughed too, shaking his head. ‘I’m talking about Nick, not me.’
‘Speaking with the authority of one who knows, though,’ Leo commented.
Stone shrugged and was silent for a moment. ‘You work with a man in this sort of job for getting on for three years,’ he said at length, ‘you get to know what makes him tick.’
‘Obviously,’ she agreed. ‘Although I should have said it was a case of chalk and cheese.’
‘Oh?’ he looked at her, smiling.
‘Well, I should imagine they breed a pretty gritty type of realist around the Liverpool area.’
‘Have you seen my file?’ he asked sharply.
‘Oh, now, how could I?’ she murmured. ‘You know personal files are sacred.’
‘Then how do you know I come from that area?’
‘It’s in your voice.’
She saw his face tighten and began to understand that she must tread carefully.
‘I didn’t realize it was that obvious.’
‘It’s not. I doubt if most people would notice anything. But you’ve got to remember that voices and accents are part of my stock in trade.’
He relaxed slightly. ‘Yes, of course. But you’re not quite spot on, anyway—the other side of the Mersey, Birkenhead.’
‘So—’ she leaned back in her seat and looked at him—‘how does a tough lad from Birkenhead come to be playing cops and robbers with a knight in shining armour from Warwickshire?’
‘Via the RAF, among other things—but that’s a long story—and one…’
‘And one you only tell to particularly close friends,’ she finished for him, and they both laughed.
He stretched his arm along the back of her seat.
‘Do you think we’ve reached a sufficiently advanced stage of intimacy for that?’
‘Well, now,’ she murmured, ‘what happened the other night is one thing, but swapping life stories…’ Her eyes teased him. He leaned towards her.
‘Well, perhaps we should double-check, before we say anything we might regret.’
She put her fingers on his lips.
‘Not during working hours. It’s strictly against my principles.’
‘It’s strictly against my principles to work at three o’clock in the morning,’ he grunted. ‘However, if you insist…’
‘I don’t know why I’m sitting here gossiping with you anyway,’ she said, ‘except that it’s nice to talk to someone relatively normal for a few minutes. But I’ve got to get back before light, so listen. I think I know where Farnaby is landing the dope.’
‘How did you find that out?’ he asked, his amorous intentions receding to the back of his mind.
‘That girl—Mandy. You remember I said her father is the chief constable? Farnaby is trying to blackmail him. Apparently the local police have been keeping an eye on the boathouses along the river. Farnaby wants Clifton to warn them off. And Mandy says she has seen him at a boat-house on the opposite side of the river. It belongs to a big house which is now an old people’s home, so it shouldn’t be too hard to identify. We know Farnaby’s expecting a consignment soon and the fact that he’s decided this is the moment to use his hold over Clifton confirms that. My bet is that it’ll be sometime in the next couple of nights.’
‘Sounds probable,’ Stone agreed. ‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘Get onto Pascoe for a start. Tell him the story and get him to talk to Clifton. Tell him to call his men off, as if he’s giving in to Farnaby. Then you and Nick identify the boat-house and keep an eye on it. I’m going to find an excuse for staying on when the rest of the house-party leave tomorrow. As soon as I get any hint of something going on I’ll call you.’
‘Leo—’ he turned to her seriously—‘take care, for God’s sake. If Farnaby is expecting a delivery he’s not going to want anyone hanging around. If he gets the idea that you’re spying on him he could turn very nasty. Why don’t you go back to London with the others and leave me and Nick to sort things out here? After all, it’s only a matter of keeping the boat-house under surveillance and then calling in the local boys as soon as something happens.’
‘By the time you’re sure something is going on and the local force have got to you it could be all over,’ Leo pointed out. ‘What you need is advanced warning, and that’s what I’m going to try to give you.’ She opened the car door.
‘I’ve got to get back. I’ll be in touch, either later today or tomorrow.’
He walked to the end of the track with her.
‘Are you sure you can get in again? Nick and I had a look round the perimeter and it looked pretty secure.
‘Yes, his system’s not bad,’ Leo agreed, ‘but after a party like that it isn’t surprising that someone, somewhere, forgot to check all the switches—is it? Don’t worry. I’ll get back all right. Incidentally—’she paused and looked at him quizzically—‘what does mine host at the pub think you two are up to, going in and out at all hours?’
‘He thinks we’re a couple of ardent ornithologists, looking for nightingales,’ Stone told her.
Leo grinned. ‘Some bird-watchers!’
He grinned back. ‘Some bird!’
Chapter 7
Very few of the guests at Swancombe put in an appearance before mid-morning and it was after lunch before most of them were ready to set off back to Town, so it caused no particular comment when Leonora, who had been seen dancing wildly during the last hour or so of the party, came down at midday looking pale and distinctly hung over. She toyed with a little iced consommé at lunch and then murmured something about lying down and retired to her room again. It was not until after the last of his guests had finally departed that Farnaby realized he had not seen her since then and went in search of her. He found her in her room, lying on the bed dressed only in a black silk slip. She was completely unconscious and on the bedside table lay a hypodermic syringe and an empty ampoule.
Farnaby bent over her and pulled back her eyelids, then felt her pulse. He picked up the syringe and examined it and stood for a long moment in thought. Then he went out, locking the door behind him and made his way down to the library where Stringer, his chauffeur— the man who had been standing guard at the library door the previous evening—was waiting for him.
‘Silly bitch has shot herself so full of something she’s dead to the world up there.’
‘Difficult,’ commented Stringer.
‘Yes,’ agreed Farnaby, ‘but perhaps useful as well. We may have found ourselves another satisfied customer, Stringer.’
‘What are you going to do with her?’ Stringer asked.
‘Leave her for the time being. She obviously isn’t going to come round for an hour or so. After that—well, we can’t shove her into her motor, point her in the direction of London and tell her to push off. She probably wouldn’t get more than a couple of miles before she crashed, or got picked up by the police. And that could lead to some very awkward questions. No, we offer her our hospitality for the night, and then we give her a little nightcap—just to make sure she has a good night’s sleep. She won’t give us any bother.’
* * *
Leo heaved a deep sigh and hauled herself out of the deep, glutinous waters in which she had been floating in her dream. Her mouth tasted like an old sock and she had trouble focusing her eyes. She turned her head and winced at the sight of the syringe. It had taken more courage than many, much more dangerous activities to stick that needle in herself. Davies, the Triple S medic, had better be right about the stuffs being harmless and non-addictive, she reflected. It had needed a good deal of persuasion to get it out of him at all; but she had finally convinced him that, for her own safety, it might be necessary for her to ‘do a Juliet’.
She lay for a while, listening for noises in the house. The late afternoon sun was slanting through her windows. It had been a gamble, rendering herself unconscious for such a long part of the afternoon, but she had assumed that if Farnaby was expecting anything it would not happen until after dark. The important thing was to remain in the house until then. It took some time for her head to clear so it was no hardship to stay where she was until she heard footsteps approaching her door and the small click of the key turning in the lock. She chalked up a mental plus point—Farnaby had been in to check on her, so it was as well that she had actually used the drug instead of just faking it.
As he came over to the bed she rolled lazily onto her back and smiled up at him.
‘Well, well.’ Farnaby sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands in both his own. ‘Who’s a silly girl then?’
‘Oh Guy,’ she murmured, ‘I don’t think either of us should be calling each other names, after what was going on last night, do you?’
He chuckled. ‘Of course not. After all, we’re both broadminded, aren’t we?’
She raised herself on one elbow and spoke with more intensity. ‘Listen, can you get the stuff for me? The bloke I’ve been dealing with is mucking me about. Besides, I think he’s cutting it with something nasty. I need to find a new source of supply.’
He patted her hand. ‘I’ll have to see what I can do for you, shan’t I? I might just know somebody who knows somebody—you know how it is…’
She lay back and smiled at him. ‘Oh yes, I know how it is. Dear Guy, thank you so much. And if I can ever do anything for you…’
‘I’m sure I’ll think of something,’ he purred. ‘But right now I want you to stay here and rest. We can’t have you going back to Town tonight, can we? I’ll get Mrs Bradley to bring you up a nice little supper on a tray, and then you can have a good sleep. Right?’
She nestled a little deeper into the pillows. ‘You’re so sweet to me, darling. That would be lovely.’
He left her and she heard that he did not lock the door. ‘Clever of him’, she thought. ‘I might just have decided to get up and he would have been hard put to it to find an excuse for locking me in.’ Half an hour later the housekeeper appeared with a beautifully arranged tray on which were an omelette, some salad, a chocolate mousse and a pot of tea. Leo looked at it longingly. She had not eaten since the previous evening and, with her mouth still tasting as it did, the tea was particularly appealing. However, she contented herself with a long drink of water from the tap in her bathroom and then took her suitcase from the wardrobe. Tucked into one of the pockets was a chocolate bar and a packet of nuts and raisins. When she had eaten them the food on the tray still looked attractive, but resistible. She disposed of it without trouble down the lavatory, being careful to leave a few dregs of tea in the cup and even pressing her mouth to it so that it was faintly smeared with lipstick. Then she got right into the bed and settled down to wait.
The sunlight faded and the sky outside her window took on a deeper tone. The room itself grew shadowy. At length she heard the soft footsteps returning. She turned on her side and drew the sheet up so that it almost covered her face. It took a great deal of self-control to remain still while whoever it was crossed the room and stood looking down at her. She breathed deeply, simulating sleep. A hand stirred the sheet, lifting it away from her face. Then it was dropped again and the footsteps receded, followed by the closing of the door and the faint click of the lock. Even then Leo did not move until she heard Farnaby speaking to someone on the stairs.
A few minutes later she heard a car on the gravel drive. She got up quickly and went to the window, which looked out onto the front of the house. Standing to one side, where she could see without risk of being seen, she saw the car waiting outside the front door with its engine running. It was not Farnaby’s familiar Rolls Royce, but an anonymous dark blue Cortina. As she watched, Farnaby came out of the house dressed in oilskins and Wellington boots. Fie was followed by his manservant, Cole, carrying a fishing-rod and a tackle box. Leo grinned to herself as she thought of Stone and Marriot earnestly listening for nightingales while Farnaby ‘fished’.
As soon as the car had driven away Leo went to the drawer and took out her radio.
‘Delta One and Two, this is Omega. Come in please.’
Apart from the faint hiss and crackle, silence.
‘Delta One, are you receiving me? Come in please.’
Another silence, then Nick’s voice, slightly breathless. ‘Omega, this is Delta Two.’
‘What sort of bird have you been watching?’ Leo asked drily. ‘Never mind, don’t answer
that. There’s a game bird heading in your direction in a dark blue Cortina, registration number PYG 323T. If you can put him in the bag a lot of people might be having cold turkey for supper.’
‘Roger, Omega.’ Nick’s voice was cool and efficient. ‘We’ll be waiting for him. What about you?’
‘I’m coming to join you. Don’t start without me! Omega out.’
Leo replaced the radio and dressed rapidly in dark trousers and jersey. Then she got out her suitcase again, removed the hairdryer and the pair of shoes which she had left in it and lifted out the false bottom. Fitted snugly into a specially moulded section was a Walther PPK with a shoulder holster. Leo paused, looking at it. She could think of at least four good reasons for not carrying it. On the other hand she had a feeling that tonight it might turn out to be essential. She put it on and pulled a navy anorak on over it. Then, as an afterthought, she took a spare clip and slipped it into her pocket. Next she took from the suitcase an innocent-looking piece of wire, replaced the false bottom and returned the case to the wardrobe. Finally, she pulled some spare pillows from the top shelf and made a fairly convincing humped shape under the bedclothes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds of delicate manoeuvring with the wire before the lock clicked back and she stepped out into the passage. The house was silent. She knew there were only three living-in servants at Swancombe, Cole and Stirling, the so-called chauffeur, who had both gone with Farnaby, and Mrs Bradley. Leo had no doubt that the two men were a couple of heavies recruited from the underworld to act as Farnaby’s bodyguards but she was less sure about Mrs Bradley. She was inclined to believe that her worst crime was closing her eyes to the odd goings-on at Farnaby’s parties. At all events, she had to hope that that was the case and the woman had not been left with orders to keep watch on her. She glided light-footed down the stairs. The hall was empty. Leo wondered if the burglar alarms had been set and turned to the passageway that led towards the kitchen area. She knew that Mrs Bradley had her own rooms somewhere in this region and the sound of a television set suggested that they were not far away. Leo opened the door of the lobby where the controls for the alarm system were situated and saw with relief that they had not yet been set. She closed the door and padded silently back to the hall. Ignoring the front door she went into the drawing-room, now restored to order after the dancing of the previous evening, and crossed to the French windows. They were locked but the key was in place. She turned it and stepped out onto the terrace.