[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
afternoon.
The police are here.' She leaned over him, their lips touching. They've
interviewed me, and everybody else as well. They've been pretty helpful
really, and they also seem to think that somebody is out to stop us getting to
the States. I've dropped the name Seamark Cruises to them with a loud clang,
and they're going to make a few enquiries.'
'And good luck to 'em if they can find anything out,' Slade grinned wryly.
'Seamark is a past-master at covering up.'
They want to see you again.' 'I'll be right down.' She waited whilst he
dressed, and then accompanied him downstairs.
Detective-Inspector King and his assistant, the CID constable who had taken
Slade's statement earlier that day, were in the study. They nodded, but
neither smiled.
'You didn't tell me you'd had a brush with a couple of thugs recently.' King's
tone was reproaching.
'Neither did you mention that you had crashed on a test-drive. . .
'It wasn't a test-drive,' Slade snapped. 'I was merely getting the feel of the
car over a couple of laps. . . '
'Which you didn't finish. A fault with the tracking, and very conveniently for
somebody that tracking has disappeared.'
There may be no connection.'
'We think there is. Also, we've identified the dead man.'
That's interesting. Anybody we know?'
'It depends in which social circles you mix. His real name is Fred Hine. In
London's East End he's known as "The Snipe". Served a five-year stretch for
manslaughter. The line between murder and manslaughter is so fine these days
that it's an even bet which side one lands on. A "hired gun", in melodramatic
terms.
Not very clever, and not a particularly good marksman, either. We wanted to
question him about another shooting, but I guess it's too late for that now.
He had a partner, a tall thin guy known as "Benny the
Leg". According to Walter Jackson's description of the second man in
Coldharbour Wood it was Benny, all right. I'd give anything to know just where
he's gone to ground. We picked up the Hillman Avenger in
Colney Heath. It was reported stolen in Hertford yesterday. The driver's seat
was saturated with blood, so Benny has the choice of either dying in hiding,
or else seeking medical attention and being picked up.
We'll just have to wait and see. By the way, Mr Slade, you were, until
recently, Seamark Cruises'
number one driver.'
That's right.'
Tell me - ' the inspector paused to light his pipe yet again, - 'why did you
leave a successful team, and, if you'll forgive me for saying so, join an
almost unknown one?'
The implication, the suspicion, was not lost on Slade.
'I'd finished with Seamark before I came here. I quit driving.'
'Yet you're still driving.'
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'I'm not here as a driver.'
"You were at the wheel of Miss Hammerton's car when it crashed.'
'You've got it all wrong, Inspector.' Irritation was creeping into Mark
Slade's voice. 'I was merely doing a very casual couple of laps, or almost,
because she asked me to. I have no intention of ever driving a racing car
again.'
'Then why have you joined the Hammerton team?'
'I'm here in an advisory capacity. Temporarily. After we get back from the
States I'll be leaving.'
'I see.' King picked up his hat, and dropped his stubborn pipe into the pocket
of the raincoat draped over his arm. 'Well, I'll be getting back to the
station. You'll be required to attend the inquest, Mr Slade, and we'll let you
know how our enquiries go. If only we could get our hands on Benny the Leg
whilst he's still alive. We'd soon find out whose pay he's in. In fact, an
awful lot might be cleared up.'
Lee stood in the window with Mark Slade and watched the police car disappear
from view down the drive.
'Who told King about the missing tracking?' Slade murmured.
'It could have been any one of the boys. He interviewed them separately.'
'And he's already suspecting me of having some deep involvement with Seamark
Cruises.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mark.'
'He's suspicious, all right. It figures, I suppose, especially to a non-racing
person. In his eyes I could have done a first class stunt-job, written your
car off, faked a fight with those two thugs, and whilst gaining your
confidence and admiration, wrecked the whole Hammerton set-up.'
'And I need your help more than ever now.' Her voice was husky. 'The last
thing I wanted was the police hanging around. I know the Hammerton name is
still on their records. Oh God, Mark, this whole business is getting under my
skin. The family cycle of evil has come round again!'
'I'll go and see how work is progressing on the car.' He walked towards the
door. Time's running out for everybody.' His flesh goosepimpled right up into
the nape of his neck. For the first time Mark Slade was beginning to believe
in the Hammerton Curse.
Shotgun wounds are generally more horrific in appearance than in reality,
except in instances where the victim has received a charge at close range. At
a distance of fifty yards the spread of pellets is greater than the
penetration of the tiny spherical balls. Often they lodge in the skin, cause
superficial bleeding and intense discomfort, but are seldom fatal except in
the absence of medical attention when lead poisoning is liable to set in after
three or four days.
Benny the Leg, even with his limited intelligence, knew that he was not going
to die immediately. He was weak through loss of blood, and shotgun pellets
were lodged in his anatomy from his shoulder blades down to his ankles. He was
gasping for breath when he reached the Avenger on the road, and as he fell
into the driving seat he grunted with pain, instinctively hunching himself
forward so that there was less pressure on his wounds.
He drove fast, eager to be away from the area, heading towards Colney Heath,
for it was there that he and "The Snipe" had been instructed to report after
their bid to kill Mark Slade.
After a journey that seemed an eternity of blinding pain, he parked the car in
a side street and sat still for a while. It was less than ten minutes' walk to
his destination, but to have driven there in a stolen car would have brought
the wrath of the man whom he knew as Mr Patterson upon his head.
Benny the Leg was well aware that he was only too conspicuous in his
blood-soaked clothing. To have ventured forth would doubtless have invited the
attention of passers by, and then the law.
At one stage he was almost on the verge of panic.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Darkness was several hours away, and every minute that he remained where he
was he risked discovery.
The seat upon which he sat was saturated with blood. It dripped steadily onto
the uncarpeted floor.
Then the tartan blanket on the back seat, the one which he and The Snipe had
used as they sat out a long nocturnal vigil, gave him an idea. Perhaps if he
carried it clumsily, untidily draped over one shoulder, one end trailing on
the ground, screening his back, he could make the short journey undetected.
His whole body seemed to be on fire. He felt dizzy, and as he struggled and
squelched his way out of the car he almost fainted. He glanced up and down the
street again. There was nobody about. The blanket thrown over his right
shoulder, he lurched off up the pavement. His confidence rose, his step became
swifter for a short time, then slowed as the pain intensified with each
movement of his thin shot-spattered legs.
It seemed an eternity before he saw the house, recognising it instantly by the
way it stood back from those on either side of it, residential, respectable to
all outward appearances. Probably Mr Patterson was a well-known public figure
in this small community.
Benny the Leg slouched up the narrow gravelled drive, stumbled, almost fell in
the extensive porch, and finally located and pressed the bell with a long,
blood-caked forefinger.
He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, knowing that he must fight off
oblivion for another minute or two. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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afternoon.
The police are here.' She leaned over him, their lips touching. They've
interviewed me, and everybody else as well. They've been pretty helpful
really, and they also seem to think that somebody is out to stop us getting to
the States. I've dropped the name Seamark Cruises to them with a loud clang,
and they're going to make a few enquiries.'
'And good luck to 'em if they can find anything out,' Slade grinned wryly.
'Seamark is a past-master at covering up.'
They want to see you again.' 'I'll be right down.' She waited whilst he
dressed, and then accompanied him downstairs.
Detective-Inspector King and his assistant, the CID constable who had taken
Slade's statement earlier that day, were in the study. They nodded, but
neither smiled.
'You didn't tell me you'd had a brush with a couple of thugs recently.' King's
tone was reproaching.
'Neither did you mention that you had crashed on a test-drive. . .
'It wasn't a test-drive,' Slade snapped. 'I was merely getting the feel of the
car over a couple of laps. . . '
'Which you didn't finish. A fault with the tracking, and very conveniently for
somebody that tracking has disappeared.'
There may be no connection.'
'We think there is. Also, we've identified the dead man.'
That's interesting. Anybody we know?'
'It depends in which social circles you mix. His real name is Fred Hine. In
London's East End he's known as "The Snipe". Served a five-year stretch for
manslaughter. The line between murder and manslaughter is so fine these days
that it's an even bet which side one lands on. A "hired gun", in melodramatic
terms.
Not very clever, and not a particularly good marksman, either. We wanted to
question him about another shooting, but I guess it's too late for that now.
He had a partner, a tall thin guy known as "Benny the
Leg". According to Walter Jackson's description of the second man in
Coldharbour Wood it was Benny, all right. I'd give anything to know just where
he's gone to ground. We picked up the Hillman Avenger in
Colney Heath. It was reported stolen in Hertford yesterday. The driver's seat
was saturated with blood, so Benny has the choice of either dying in hiding,
or else seeking medical attention and being picked up.
We'll just have to wait and see. By the way, Mr Slade, you were, until
recently, Seamark Cruises'
number one driver.'
That's right.'
Tell me - ' the inspector paused to light his pipe yet again, - 'why did you
leave a successful team, and, if you'll forgive me for saying so, join an
almost unknown one?'
The implication, the suspicion, was not lost on Slade.
'I'd finished with Seamark before I came here. I quit driving.'
'Yet you're still driving.'
Page 54
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'I'm not here as a driver.'
"You were at the wheel of Miss Hammerton's car when it crashed.'
'You've got it all wrong, Inspector.' Irritation was creeping into Mark
Slade's voice. 'I was merely doing a very casual couple of laps, or almost,
because she asked me to. I have no intention of ever driving a racing car
again.'
'Then why have you joined the Hammerton team?'
'I'm here in an advisory capacity. Temporarily. After we get back from the
States I'll be leaving.'
'I see.' King picked up his hat, and dropped his stubborn pipe into the pocket
of the raincoat draped over his arm. 'Well, I'll be getting back to the
station. You'll be required to attend the inquest, Mr Slade, and we'll let you
know how our enquiries go. If only we could get our hands on Benny the Leg
whilst he's still alive. We'd soon find out whose pay he's in. In fact, an
awful lot might be cleared up.'
Lee stood in the window with Mark Slade and watched the police car disappear
from view down the drive.
'Who told King about the missing tracking?' Slade murmured.
'It could have been any one of the boys. He interviewed them separately.'
'And he's already suspecting me of having some deep involvement with Seamark
Cruises.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mark.'
'He's suspicious, all right. It figures, I suppose, especially to a non-racing
person. In his eyes I could have done a first class stunt-job, written your
car off, faked a fight with those two thugs, and whilst gaining your
confidence and admiration, wrecked the whole Hammerton set-up.'
'And I need your help more than ever now.' Her voice was husky. 'The last
thing I wanted was the police hanging around. I know the Hammerton name is
still on their records. Oh God, Mark, this whole business is getting under my
skin. The family cycle of evil has come round again!'
'I'll go and see how work is progressing on the car.' He walked towards the
door. Time's running out for everybody.' His flesh goosepimpled right up into
the nape of his neck. For the first time Mark Slade was beginning to believe
in the Hammerton Curse.
Shotgun wounds are generally more horrific in appearance than in reality,
except in instances where the victim has received a charge at close range. At
a distance of fifty yards the spread of pellets is greater than the
penetration of the tiny spherical balls. Often they lodge in the skin, cause
superficial bleeding and intense discomfort, but are seldom fatal except in
the absence of medical attention when lead poisoning is liable to set in after
three or four days.
Benny the Leg, even with his limited intelligence, knew that he was not going
to die immediately. He was weak through loss of blood, and shotgun pellets
were lodged in his anatomy from his shoulder blades down to his ankles. He was
gasping for breath when he reached the Avenger on the road, and as he fell
into the driving seat he grunted with pain, instinctively hunching himself
forward so that there was less pressure on his wounds.
He drove fast, eager to be away from the area, heading towards Colney Heath,
for it was there that he and "The Snipe" had been instructed to report after
their bid to kill Mark Slade.
After a journey that seemed an eternity of blinding pain, he parked the car in
a side street and sat still for a while. It was less than ten minutes' walk to
his destination, but to have driven there in a stolen car would have brought
the wrath of the man whom he knew as Mr Patterson upon his head.
Benny the Leg was well aware that he was only too conspicuous in his
blood-soaked clothing. To have ventured forth would doubtless have invited the
attention of passers by, and then the law.
At one stage he was almost on the verge of panic.
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Darkness was several hours away, and every minute that he remained where he
was he risked discovery.
The seat upon which he sat was saturated with blood. It dripped steadily onto
the uncarpeted floor.
Then the tartan blanket on the back seat, the one which he and The Snipe had
used as they sat out a long nocturnal vigil, gave him an idea. Perhaps if he
carried it clumsily, untidily draped over one shoulder, one end trailing on
the ground, screening his back, he could make the short journey undetected.
His whole body seemed to be on fire. He felt dizzy, and as he struggled and
squelched his way out of the car he almost fainted. He glanced up and down the
street again. There was nobody about. The blanket thrown over his right
shoulder, he lurched off up the pavement. His confidence rose, his step became
swifter for a short time, then slowed as the pain intensified with each
movement of his thin shot-spattered legs.
It seemed an eternity before he saw the house, recognising it instantly by the
way it stood back from those on either side of it, residential, respectable to
all outward appearances. Probably Mr Patterson was a well-known public figure
in this small community.
Benny the Leg slouched up the narrow gravelled drive, stumbled, almost fell in
the extensive porch, and finally located and pressed the bell with a long,
blood-caked forefinger.
He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, knowing that he must fight off
oblivion for another minute or two. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
