Festival, page 18
‘You’ve done me good already, Mr Johnson. I was feeling absolutely crushed by that telephoning, but now I’m beginning to feel angry about it. I don’t think I want anything more to do with Mr Gellton.’
‘That’s a much healthier approach. You and your Victoria seem to me very well-placed here, with a convenient cottage in really lovely countryside.’
‘Well, if we’re going to stay healthy we’d better have our meal. Everything’s just about ready.’
X
The Sergeant’s Night
PIET WAS GRATEFUL for the meal that Margaret Claridge had given him – it left him with a fair amount of time in hand, which he didn’t have to waste in finding somewhere to eat. He was sorry for her, sorry, and extremely puzzled. On the practical side of things he was fairly sure that he could help her, for he knew a lot of people in the art world and her work seemed to him to be good enough for commercial reproduction. He was now sure about what had happened – the Partridge family had needed to borrow her baby, and Stephen Partridge (or Spider) had acted the part of ‘Mr Gellton’ to get her to London. Doubtless there was a real Mr Gellton whose books could be bought, and since Margaret had never met him all Stephen had to do was to produce a set of his stories. If Jane had worked with a publisher it was probably she who had thought of the Gellton alias – perhaps the real Mr Gellton lived abroad. Jane could also have got hold of a typescript of some children’s book, and all that had to be done there was to retype the first page and put Gellton’s name on it. Piet had confirmed that this had been done, for he had been able to look at the typescript while he was with Margaret and the first page had undoubtedly been typed on a different machine.
But why? Again Piet felt that he was following the threads of two completely different patterns of events. Offering the Pendenna cottage to Margaret Claridge could have had nothing to do with the conspiracy to kidnap Jo – it was much too early in time, and it strained belief to suppose that a group of people who had not yet decided to kidnap anybody wanted a convenient child to get hold of in case they did. As far as he could tell from such evidence as he had, the offer of the Pendenna cottage was made from pure human decency by Harriet and Jane, in a genuine effort to help a woman in distress. Harriet certainly had a good reputation in the neighbourhood, and although he knew less about Jane he had not heard anything against her, and Sergeant Trevithick who knew the family well had clearly liked her. How did Stephen Partridge come into it? He must have known of the Harriet-Jane plan to borrow Victoria Claridge, or he would not have been involved in the deception in London. Again, why?
Piet decided that he could make no progress towards answering this until he had acquired a few more facts, and he wanted to use the time left to him before collecting Sergeant Trevithick for the rendezvous at Port Gaverne to make another reconnaissance of the area. He drove slowly along the cliff road that led down to the little harbour. He went through the village, out again on the road to Port Isaac, and then turned and drove back the way he had come. Apart from the hotel car park, there was very little room for cars in the built-up area around the end of the quay. It would be later at night when he came for the rendezvous, and he thought the superintendent was probably right in thinking that he could get in, but he decided that he didn’t want his car left quite so near the scene of action – if there was going to be any action. He had been there the night before, and while there was no way of knowing if anyone had noticed his car there was equally no way of knowing whom he might be up against, and it was better to take no chances. A little beyond the last U-turn where the cliff road made its descent to the village there was a slight widening of the verge, and although the traffic policeman in him said that it was a bad place to leave a car he felt that in the circumstances it would have to do. He stopped there, and walked down the cliffside to the rocks at the seaward end of the quay. The quay was really a rock shelf, a kind of natural jetty, that had been smoothed over centuries of use. It came to an end in an outcrop of rocks from the cliffside, huge boulders, one or two of them as big as cottages. Between the rocks ran a footpath that led out to the headland at the end of the Port Gaverne inlet. Once behind the rocks you were out of sight of anybody on the quay, and Piet thought that the superintendent had arranged an admirable meeting place. Being considerably above the quay you could look down on whatever went on there, and there were several rock-sheltered observation posts from which there was little chance of being seen. Piet selected a spot for himself, and went back to his car.
*
It would be as well, he thought, to get there in advance of the superintendent’s party, so he called at Sergeant Trevithick’s home a little early. The sergeant was quite ready for him, but he was in plain clothes and asked if Piet wanted him in uniform. Piet thought about this for a moment and concluded that it would be better for the sergeant to come dressed as he was. The superintendent was bringing his men in uniform, so there would be a good force of uniformed men available. He had not said anything to Superintendent Evans about Sergeant Trevithick, and it might be more tactful if he didn’t try to add a uniformed sergeant to the Wadebridge party. He had no precise plan of campaign because he had no idea of what to plan for, but he felt that it might be useful to have the sergeant as a slightly detached outpost – after all, he was really off duty, and in his own heart he was coming along to help Harriet Partridge if there was anything he could do to help her.
Piet and the sergeant were at Piet’s parking place on the cliff road a few minutes after nine thirty. ‘I’m going to leave the key in the car,’ Piet said. ‘We don’t know if we may have to send someone to collect it, and I doubt if there are many chance car thieves around here at this time of night.’ The sergeant said nothing, but Piet felt that he somewhat disapproved.
On the verge, the car was safely off the road, and Piet felt that it could be left without lights – if an untimely police patrol should turn up and object to his manner of parking, the matter could no doubt be straightened out later. He and the sergeant made their way down to the rocks.
On a fine evening it would have been quite light, but it looked like becoming a filthy night. It was not yet actually raining, but heavy rainclouds were driving across the sky, and the wind was getting up. It was still in the north-west, and although the inlet itself got a bit of shelter from the cliffs on the Lobber Point side of the coast, to any vessel making for the inlet it was a nasty onshore wind. Piet wondered if the schooner would attempt the passage – well, he would soon know.
What light there was was going, but from the rocks it was still possible to see the quay and the waterfront fairly well. Nothing seemed to be moving when they took position among the rocks, but after about ten minutes a big station wagon stopped at the end of the quay. ‘That’s Miss Harriet’s car,’ the sergeant said. There seemed to be several people in the vehicle, but it was too far away to make out who they were. ‘Could you go back to the road and walk down, Sergeant?’ Piet asked. ‘The car is almost on the quay and won’t have a good view of the road, so with luck you won’t be noticed. But it is extremely important to know if you recognise anybody in the car.’
The sergeant went off, and that was why he was not there when the superintendent and his men arrived. They moved skilfully and quietly, and Piet did not notice anyone until the first man of the party was about twenty yards away. They took about five minutes to assemble. ‘Well, we’re here,’ the superintendent said when he had got his men posted. ‘I must say you choose some bloody awful weather for your jaunts. What do we do next?’
‘Wait and see what happens,’ Piet said. ‘I’m sorry about the weather. Do you think it’s too bad for the schooner to come in?’
‘Could be,’ the superintendent replied, ‘but on the whole I don’t think so. Whoever has her wouldn’t be here unless he knows the coast, and she’s got a powerful big diesel. If your other information’s right, I expect she’ll turn up. But the more I think of it the less likely it all seems. See how we country bumpkins trust the Yard!’
‘Come off it,’ Piet said. ‘It’s damned good of you to cooperate as you have, but in this case we’re much more dependent on you than you are on us. I couldn’t have done anything without you.’
*
Piet was looking down on the quay, wondering what was happening to Sergeant Trevithick, and also wondering how he was going to explain him to the superintendent. However, this was not an immediate problem, for one of the other men who was keeping a lookout to seaward announced, ‘There’s the lights of a ship that looks like she’s coming in.’
Everybody now looked seaward. There was certainly a ship about a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the cove, dutifully lighted, and apparently making for the entrance. It was light enough to make out that she was two-masted, and Piet felt sure that she was the schooner, but she was not carrying sails. In that onshore wind doubtless they felt safer to rely on the diesel. She was coming in carefully and slowly, and it would be a little time yet before she could make the quay. For the moment it was more important to try to work out what was going on there.
Two people, a man and a woman, appeared to have got out of the station wagon, and they were engaged in carrying what looked like jerricans of fuel or water to the quay. There were four cans stacked there, and two more on their way. Another car had arrived, and at least three people had got out of it. They were carrying suitcases and kitbags, putting them on the quay beside the jerricans. It was too dark, and they were too far away, to recognise individuals. Piet could not see the sergeant, but was comforted by the thought that he was there to keep a close watch on things.
The schooner was now through the entrance, and nosing her way towards the quay. She was happier in the somewhat sheltered water of the cove, and fetched a half-circle to come alongside the quay with her bows pointing seaward, so that she could go straight out without having to turn. Built on the lines of sailing vessels of an older day, she carried a fine bowsprit, which would give her a powerful spread of headsails, though none was set now.
‘I’d like to get down there,’ Piet said to the superintendent. ‘I’m going to ask you to detain the people who have come to meet her, and whoever is on board. I want the boat thoroughly searched. It will mean putting a guard on her for the night.’
The superintendent was not happy. ‘There’s more of them than I thought,’ he said. ‘What charge do we hold them on?’
‘We invite them to accompany us for questioning about the possession of illegal drugs. That is wholly within our powers. If anybody refuses to come voluntarily, he or she can be arrested.’
‘And what about the boat? She can’t stay here for long after the tide turns.’
‘She was built to take the ground, and she can do what her forbears did. And on a night like this she’ll be safer in here than putting to sea again.’
‘I don’t like it, but I’ve been instructed to help you, so we must just get on with it. If these people are innocent yachtsmen and there’s an almighty row, you’ll have to carry the can.’
‘That’s understood.’
While Piet and the superintendent had been having this hurried, and from Piet’s point of view not very satisfactory, conversation, the schooner had come up to the quay and was being made fast. Piet could understand the superintendent’s worries – he was the senior officer present, and although he was acting properly at the request of the Metropolitan Police, he couldn’t avoid responsibility if something went wrong. What would happen if the people on the schooner and on the quay showed fight? He wished that he had twice as many men.
Nothing could be done about that now. The superintendent led the way down to the quay, followed by Piet, with the uniformed men behind him. As they got nearer to the people on the quay Piet was relieved to see Sergeant Trevithick in the background. The sergeant was a powerful man, and if necessary he might be a valuable – because totally unexpected – reinforcement.
A gap had been opened in the schooner’s bulwarks, and a short gangplank laid ashore. Two men were about to start carrying the kit on board when the superintendent strode up. ‘We are police officers, and I must ask you to stop what you are doing,’ he said.
‘What the hell for?’ Piet recognised the man who spoke. He was Stephen Partridge.
*
The next moment several things seemed to happen at once. Instead of going on towards the party on the quayside, the superintendent turned to the uniformed men behind him and, pointing to Piet, said authoritatively, ‘Arrest this man. He is an impostor.’ Piet felt his arms seized, and he was so astonished that for a couple of seconds he did nothing. Then he recognised, and was recognised by, Harriet Partridge. ‘Why, it’s Mr Johnson,’ she said.
‘That’s just one of the names he used,’ the superintendent said. ‘He’s a most dangerous man, and the sooner he’s under lock and key the better. The rest of you had better clear out quick. The weather’s worsening outside, and you don’t want to get stuck here.’
From the schooner came the unmistakeable cry of a young baby.
*
Piet was strong and fit, and he was recovering his wits as he heard the baby’s cry. That gave him the sudden strength of Samson. He wrenched himself free from the men who were holding him, and called out, ‘Stop this nonsense, Superintendent, you will have a lot of questions to answer. Loyal policemen, hold the superintendent, and detain the other people on the quay.’
The only notice the uniformed men took of his plea was to come at him again. One made a dive for his legs, while another struck him a savage blow on the jaw.
Piet hit back. His right fist landed hard in the face of the man who had struck him, and he kicked at the man who was trying to hold his legs. Momentarily he was free, and he doubled back towards the rocks.
The men came after him, but Sergeant Trevithick, who had been watching the proceedings in a sort of daze, suddenly ran between the uniformed men and Piet. Harriet saw him as she was about to go on board the schooner. She was only a few yards from him, and said, ‘Good luck, Trevithick. Stick by Mr Johnson.’
The sergeant heard her. Until that moment he had no idea of what he ought to do, and had acted instinctively in running towards the uniformed men – it was chance that put him in front of them. His world had fallen apart. Miss Harriet, towards whom he felt an almost feudal loyalty, seemed to be mixed up in some extraordinary goings on, and here was the Superintendent from Wadebridge denouncing the Scotland Yard man who had come down to investigate as an impostor. What did Miss Harriet mean? Could it be that she believed in Mr Johnson, and for some reason knew that the superintendent was making an appalling mistake?
The superintendent had known nothing of Sergeant Trevithick’s presence, and when he saw him blunder into the men who were pursuing Piet he was exceedingly annoyed. ‘Clear out, Trevithick,’ he said. ‘This is nothing to do with you. I’ll deal with you in the morning.’
One of the uniformed men then hit the sergeant. That was the wrong thing to do, for while Sergeant Trevithick had no idea of what was happening he had been obeying what he regarded as entirely lawful orders, and it was not for a constable to hit him. The superintendent made things worse by coming to the assistance of the constable in trying to get the sergeant down.
Trevithick was a countryman, and like many countrymen slow to anger. But when he suffered what he felt to be injustice his rage was formidable. If he was going to be trampled on and later sacked for obeying orders, he might as well give the bastards something to sack him for. He was a powerful man. He knocked the superintendent out of the way, hurled the constable who had dared to hit him to the ground, and followed Piet.
Sergeant Trevithick’s intervention had enabled Piet to gain about twenty yards, and he was now in the shadow of the rocks. Two of the superintendent’s party were coming after him, but the sergeant was still between them. He slowed down deliberately, waited for the leading pursuer to come close, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling. The other pursuer fell over the man on the ground. The superintendent and the rest of his party seemed more concerned with the schooner than with Piet, and were helping to cast off the lines that held her, and to get her away.
Piet glanced round to see what was happening, and took in the situation at once. He turned back for the quay, and as he passed the sergeant said, ‘Good work. Don’t let them get you. That superintendent’s a crook. Ring the Yard.’ There was no time for anything else, and he ran on without knowing whether the sergeant would still take orders from him.
On board the schooner they were coiling in her lines. Harriet was at the wheel, and the boat was slowly moving from the quayside. As Piet reached the end of the quay the bowsprit was clear, with a gap of about ten feet. He had been running downhill, strained every nerve to put on speed, and as he got to the edge of the quay he made a tremendous leap. One of the superintendent’s men tried to stop him, missed, and sent something over the side. It hit the water with a splash. It was in fact one of the jerricans which had been brought to the quayside for loading, but which in the upset with Piet and the sergeant, and the haste to get away, had just been left there. In the growing darkness the people on the quay could not see exactly what happened, and the splash sounded like Piet hitting the water. ‘He’s gone in,’ the superintendent said with satisfaction. ‘He’ll have some trouble getting out. He can’t climb the quay wall, and if he comes ashore we’ll get him on the beach. And I don’t rate his chances high, with the weather and this tide. Still, one of you had best get down to the beach – if he comes out, he’ll be in no shape to fight. The rest of us have got to find that bloody sergeant.’
