Complete works of peter.., p.132
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 132
Maybe this ain't goin' to be such a bad day after all.
II.
IT is seven-thirty when I get down to Scotland Yard. There is an air-raid goin' on but nobody seems to be takin' a lot of notice. While I am goin' down there in the cab I can see places that have been blown flat by the Hitler boys; but there is still a helluva lot of London standin' up on its feet an' I reckon these German bastards will haveta pull their socks up if they think they're gonna win the war that way.
Herrick gives me the big hand. He takes a look at my pan an' I can see he is wonderin' just how I managed to get myself lookin' like I have been run over by a steam-roller. I tell him that I fell off a bus in the black-out an' I hope he believes it. We check up together an' it is as plain as a dead codfish on the drawin'-room carpet that these thugs have pulled a fast one on us. Herrick ain't been away anywhere at all. He's been stickin' around waitin' for me to show up.
But it shows that these guys know their stuff. It shows us that they know that the Whitaker mug is in this country an' that they knew I was comin' over on the Florida. Carlette was stuck in to take care of me, an' the wireless operator was one of these Gestapo/U.A.-1 boys that they got planted all around the world just waitin' to be a menace to one an' all when required.
I ask Herrick if he has got any idea as to who the Grant guy was, an' we go through the pictures in the rogues' gallery at the Yard but I can't find him there. In any event I do not reckon that this guy is English. I got an idea that he is a bird who speaks English goddam well but will probably turn out to be some sorta wop when we find him.
I don't say anything to Herrick about Carlette an' the show-down I have had with that baby. I do not say a word about this because I got one or two ideas that I will let you in on. But I give him the works about Manders. I tell him how I went back to Southampton an' had a rough-house with that palooka, an' how, when we was strugglin', he fell over the pier edge an' never come up again. Herrick looks at me sorta old-fashioned when I pull this one on him but he says that this is O.K. by him an' that it will probably save a lotta trouble in the long run.
He then takes me along an' we have a word with the Assistant Commissioner, who is a nice guy an' makes you feel like these top-coppers always do when you are in England, an' that is that they have been wastin' all their lives until they met you. The Assistant Commissioner, whose name is Strevens, says that he has already been in touch with Federal Headquarters in Washington about the Whitaker guy, and that at the moment they are concerned with two angles on this case. First of all they wanta know why Whitaker decided to come over to England, an' secondly havin' decided to do so how it was that he got inta the country without them knowin'. He asks me if I have got any ideas on these questions.
I tell him that I have got plenty ideas. I tell him that it is my considered opinion that this guy Whitaker got plenty frightened of something in a hurry an' decided that America was not a very safe place for him to be in. I reckon that Whitaker was right there, because as you guys probably know there are a helluva lot of German guys operatin' in the United States tryin' to throw a spanner in the works. These guys know that if England is goin' to cane Hitler an' I personally don't reckon there is much 'if' about the job then she is dependent a helluva lot on American production both in armaments an' especially planes. The Germans reckon that they can win a big battle if they can stop production at the source. I tell Strevens that everything in this job stinks of the foreign department of the Gestapo, U.A.-1 they call it, an' that the way I see the job is this:
Here is this guy Whitaker. He is a fella that nobody knows a hell of a lot about except that he has been in the airplane business for a long time. He invents this new dive-bomber an' the Federal Government are out to buy it off him. So it ain't money that is worryin' him because he musta known goddam well that the U.S. Government woulda paid him more for selling the patent rights in his invention to them than the Germans could for not doin' it.
Point number two is that this guy is engaged to some dame in Kansas. He is goin' to marry this baby. When I was kickin' around in Kansas I tried to contact this momma but couldn't. She had scrammed off some place an' nobody knew where she was. O.K. Well, for some reason or other the Whitaker guy hitches up with some other dame. This second dame is a tough baby put in by U.A.-1 to get next to Whitaker an' get the plans of the dive-bomber off him.
Maybe Whitaker gets wise to this an' decides to scram because he thinks these mugs will get him if he don't. So he comes over to England an' there you are.
Now you mugs will know that I am holdin' out on Strevens an' Herrick an' maybe you will wonder why, but if you will stick around for a minute I will wise you up to what is in my mind.
Strevens says that maybe I am right an' that if Whitaker has got himself into this country the way I suggest he has not got a dog's chance of stayin' under cover because everybody knows that there has been a big national check-up in Britain an' that everybody has to tote around an identity card, that you can't get any food unless you are registered for rations an' that even if Whitaker is stayin' at some hotel they have still got to know all about him an' that even if he is American an' a friendly neutral the police will wanta know all about him.
So he says that he reckons that Whitaker has slipped into the country usin' another name an' with a passport that he has got from somewhere or other, but that this is not worryin' them a great deal because they know the approximate date when he musta come over here an' that Herrick is havin' a check-up of entries into the country from the United States; that it is merely a matter of checkin' up an' that they reckon that they will have their hooks on the boyo before a week is out.
He says that if I stick around with Herrick an' co-operate with him there is no doubt that Herrick will pull the boy in an' I can then take over an' find out what the trouble is.
Herrick then says that it is not quite like that. He tells the Assistant Commissioner about Manders, the wireless operator on the Florida, an' how this guy sent him a phoney radio an' handed me a phoney one purportin' to come from Herrick. Herrick says that the idea in this was to stop me gettin' up to London on time an' that it looks as if somebody or other hopes to do some business with Whitaker before I can get at him.
Strevens then says if that is so it is all the more reason why we should get a move on an' find this inventor before the rats get at him, an' that he would like to be advised as to what is happenin' from time to time.
I then go back to Herrick's room with him. We talk for a bit an' he says that he will get the Special Branch an' the Home Security people to get busy with this job pronto an' that he reckons he will have some news for me within a day or so.
I tell him that this will suit me very well an' that I will get back to my apartment an' do some un-packin' an' drink a little whisky an' generally hang around until I hear from him.
After which I ease off, grab myself a cab an' go back to Jermyn Street.
When I get there I open myself a bottle of rye an' do a little quiet ruminatin'. Maybe you guys are wonderin' why I have not opened up an' told Herrick an' the Assistant Commissioner the works about this business. O.K. Well, here's the reason.
I reckon that if I had told Herrick about Carlette he woulda pulled her in pronto an' that is one thing I do not want. The second thing is if I had told him anythin' about the address the phoney Grant guy had given me the Laurel Lawn dump out at Hampstead he woulda got busy there too. It is a stone certainty that he would not have let me do what I am plannin' to do because he woulda reckoned the game might not have been worth the candle.
Because way back in my own mind I have got some private ideas on this business. I reckon that the German mob the U.A.-1 boy got wise to the fact that Whitaker had invented a new dive-bomber an' that they put Panzetti's old mob in to try an' get the blue-prints. I reckon they paid 'em plenty for doin' it. This is how Carlette gets inta the game. Carlette is put in to get next to Whitaker an' for some reason her idea is to get him outa the country an' into England.
Well... they wouldn't try an' pull this off unless they had got something an' somebody ready-eyed over here somebody who was goin' to look after Whitaker when he got here. So after they have got the boyo to start over here, Carlette sticks around an' waits for me to come over, because they are already wise to the fact that I have been put on the job by the Federal Government.
An' they have got a sweet set-up for me. Carlette comes over on the same boat as me, an' Mander who is probably one of the U.A.-1 boy is fixed on the boat as wireless operator. Their idea is to get me outa the way before I even see Herrick after they have got hold of my identification papers an' I reckon I know why they wanted them. So Manders an' Carlette pull a fast one on me an' get the papers an' then the next thing is to get me very nicely rubbed out before Herrick even knows what is happenin', because, by the time he does find out, they reckon they will have the job very nicely trimmed off an' finished.
So there you are.
III.
IT is a quarter to nine when I finish off with these deep thoughts an' I am hopin' that I have not left the job I am thinkin' of doin' too late. I grab the telephone an' dial 'Enquiry.' This takes me a helluva time owin' to the fact that there is an air-raid on an' the A.A. guns are shootin' like hell an' devils, an' when they ain't some goddam Jerry is droppin' an occasional bomb around the neighbourhood just to show that there ain't any favouritism an' that he regards me as a military objective.
When I get 'Enquiry' I tell 'em that I am very sorry to worry 'em at a time like this but I am a stranger around here an' that I am very desirous of getting the telephone number of a dump called Laurel Lawn, out at the Vale of Health, Hampstead. I say that I do not know the name of the subscriber, havin' lost it, but that it is important I should get the number.
After a bit they tell me that they cannot give me the number because the service at that address has been discontinued, which gives me a laugh because that is how I thought it was goin' to be.
I ring downstairs an' order some sandwiches an' coffee. After which I get ready for action. I open up my big trunk an' take out a little .25 automatic pistol that I tote around with me. This pistol goes in a wire clip that I fix inside the right sleeve of my coat. By pressin' my arm against anything I open the clip an' the gun slips down into my hand.
I then put on my overcoat an' stick my Luger pistol in the right-hand pocket, after which I ease downstairs an' walk along into Regent Street, where I pick up a cab. I tell the driver to take me out to the Vale of Health at Hampstead.
Sitting back in the cab I relax an' do a big grin when I think of what Herrick would say if he knew the fast one I am pullin' on him. Me, I have always found that when you get an idea you gotta play it the way it comes to you an' that whatever happens you got to do it quick.
I remember one time when I was up in Cincinnati on a forgery case. One night I was sittin' around some honeybabe's flat tellin' her the story of my life. After which she tells me that her husband is a little runt of a guy who is so mean that he won't even spend a week-end, that he don't understand her an' that her soul is just strugglin' for romance, an' that directly she clapped eyes on me somethin' inside her went pop an' that she knew somethin' excitin' was goin' to happen. She then goes on to tell me that the only reason why she ain't divorced the little gazebo that she is tied up to is that she is a sensitive dame an' cannot bear publicity.
She then gives a big sigh an' throws her arms around my neck an' says, "Lemmy... I cannot live without you. I am all yours."
Just at this moment my eye sorta wanders around the apartment an' in the corner I see a pile of press-cuttin' books, so I gently disengage myself from the stranglehold that this dame has got on me an' say I will be back in a minute.
I then scram outside an' ask the lift guy whether the dame is married an' if so who she is married to. Havin' slipped him a five-spot he proceeds to divulge to me that she is the hottest momma around those parts, that she has been married seventeen times an' that the guy who is her life partner at the moment is a prize-fighter who is lookin' for a chance to walk out on her. The said prize-fighter havin' told one an' all that he would rather be tied up to a coupla hard-boiled rattlesnakes than the blue-eyed armful who has just been puttin' the fluence on me.
I then stand around the corner in the corridor where I can see the door of the dame's apartment, an' two minutes afterwards some guy who is about seven feet high an' looks like a gorilla with toothache rushes up to the apartment an' starts hollerin, "What are you doin' with my wife!" After which I ease quietly down the stairs, buy myself a double rye an' ruminate that it was a swell piece of deduction on my part to ask why a dame who don't like publicity should keep a coupla press-cuttin' books. All of which will maybe prove something to you guys if you think about it long enough.
It is a quarter-past nine when I get out to the Vale of Health. I pay off the cab an' do a little walkin'. It has started to rain an' it is also as dark as hell. After askin' a coupla guys the way I find this Laurel Lawn. It is a big sorta house set back off the main road, standin' in a fair size bit of ground with a wall around it. There are some iron gates, one of which is open, an' a car drive leadin' up to the front.
I do not go through the gates, which is maybe what somebody would expect me to do. Instead I ease around to the back of the house an' do a big climbin' act. I get up over the wall and drop down on the other side inta some damp shrubbery place. I take a look around but I cannot see or hear anything at all. The house is as quiet as the local morgue.
I look around tryin' to find some way in. After a bit I find a sorta pantry window about six feet off the ground. I smack the catch off this with the butt of my Luger an' push myself through. When I am inside I re-fix the black-out curtain over the window an' snap on my cigarette-lighter.
I am in a sorta butler's pantry. There are a lotta empty jars an' bottles around but it don't look to me as if anybody has been livin' in this dump.
I push open the door an' walk through the kitchen that is on the other side. I then gumshoe along a long passage that I reckon leads to the front of the house.
There are rooms leadin' off this passage but they are all empty. One or two of 'em have got furniture inside but the stuff is all covered with drapes an' there is a helluva lot of dust about the place.
In the hallway facin' the front door there is a stairway leadin' upstairs an' I ease up this. I am goin' very gently an' not makin' any noise at all. Half-way up the stairs there is a turn an' when I get around it I can see a spot of light comin' from under a door along the first-floor corridor.
I stand still an' listen but I cannot hear a thing. I ease up the stairs an' along the corridor. When I get to the door I bend down an' take a look through the keyhole. Opposite me I can see a fire burnin' in the grate an' a chair pulled up by it. I listen for five minutes but nothin' happens so I take hold of the door-handle an' start easin' it gently around. I get the door open an' take a peek inta the room.
It is a fair-size room like the others. Most of the furniture is covered but there are a coupla chairs pulled up by the fire an' a table standin' by.
I walk over to the table. Just when I get there I smell cigarette smoke. Somebody has been smokin' Turkish cigarettes. I undo my overcoat an' put my hand in my pocket for my cigarette case. I am just pullin' it out when somebody says:
"Put your hands on the table and keep them there. If you move I shall kill you."
Boy... oh boy... ! Has this dame got a voice or has she. It is a low sorta soft voice with a vibration that makes your ears tingle. An' when she speaks she clips her words off like they come out of a machine-gun. Standin' there I start wonderin' whether it is possible for a dame who has got a voice as swell as this to have anything else worth while besides.
I start grinnin'. I am still facin' the table. I say:
"I suppose I can fish out this cigarette, lady. I haven't smoked for quite a while."
She says: "Stay where you are. You can drop your case on the table and help yourself from there."
I says thanks a lot. I drop the case on the table, open it an' take out a cigarette. While I am doin' this she comes round an' stands in front of me.
Did I tell you that dame had a voice? Well, I'm tellin' you right now that she had everything else that matched it. When I look up at this baby I get knocked for a row of pins.
Me I have seen some dames in my time. But I am tellin' you that any swell dame I ever saw before looks like a deformity compared with this honey.
She is wearin' a Persian lamb three-quarter coat. The coat is open an' underneath she has got on a black flannel frock with sapphire blue collar an' cuffs. I don't wonder that the dress she is wearin' sorta hugs her figure because with the shape she has got she could wear an old sack an' look like Casanova's best bet.
Underneath a sapphire blue turban with a platinum pin stuck in the front I can see some swell waves of red hair an' when I say red I mean the real stuff the colour that Titian put his trade-mark on. Her complexion is like the cream on the top of the milk an' her eyes are sorta soft, blue an' languid. She has got black eyebrows an' long curly eyelashes that look as wicked as hell.
I give a gasp. I reckon that this baby has just gotta have something wrong with her. So I take a look at her ankles. Believe me they was right too. One quick look at those ankles woulda made grandpa get up an' dance. An' the black sheer silk stockin's an' little Oxfords that she is wearin' finish off a picture that woulda made your favourite film star look like the dame who comes in to do the manglin'. Oh boy... oh boy... oh boy!
On her left hand she has got a green kid gauntlet drivin' glove an' in the right she is holdin' a .32 snub automatic with the muzzle pointin' somewhere in the region of my guts. But I am so goofy about this lamb-pie that I do not even worry.
I say to her: "Lady, I shall be very pleased if you will slip me a light because I need tobacco. I gotta have something to quieten my nerves down. Any time I look at a dame who is double-loaded with beauty like you are I go all funny. You are my favourite sight."
