Death in the City, page 19
*
Sir Edmund can be the most devious of men, but when he wants to be, nobody can be more brutally direct. ‘I have to report, sir, that the wife of one of your Cabinet colleagues, Mrs Kate Carolan, this evening attempted to murder Colonel Blair, one of my officers, by firing a pistol at him when he was interviewing her in connection with what we believe to be a serious crime, or series of crimes. Mrs Carolan is at present being held at New Scotland Yard.’
‘Good God! Do you mean that she is under arrest and will have to come up in court tomorrow? The publicity will be appalling.’
‘Not exactly. For the moment she is being detained, but she has not been formally arrested because it might seriously prejudice other proceedings if she were to appear in court. That’s one of the things on which we need your advice.’
‘I don’t see how you can do it,’ said Sir Gervase. ‘Either she is arrested, in which case she must be brought before a magistrate within twenty-four hours, or she must be free to go home.’
‘She could be held under the Prevention of Terrorism Act,’ observed Sir Edmund.
‘The wife of a Cabinet Minister! Preposterous!’
‘It is not so preposterous,’ I said. ‘May I give you a brief outline of the facts?’ The Prime Minister nodded, and I went on, ‘Just over a fortnight ago the police were asked by the London Metropolitan Bank to investigate the possible forgery of a signature on a document purporting to withdraw £300,000 from the bank. The signature on the document is that of a man called Andrew Stavanger, who has disappeared. He was – or is, if he is still alive – Mrs Carolan’s father. She is the only child. We have found – may I stress that none of this is yet public knowledge – that a big City consortium, the Ingard Group, which made use of the £300,000, is on the rocks’ – Sir Gervase whistled slightly – ‘and, furthermore, that a shipping company incorporated in the group has been manipulated in ways that are yet to be explained. The indications are that some, at least, of the ships have been used for the smuggling of arms, almost certainly to Africa, and possibly to this country also. Mr Stavanger was the former owner of the shipping company, which was taken over by the Ingard Group a few years ago. We have further evidence that one of the company’s ships is on her way to England after making a curious and circuitous voyage. We have some clues to the possible destination of this ship, but our feelings here are not evidence, and I won’t elaborate on them. Just before we left to come here we learned that the ship has been sighted by HMS Moonstone, off Ushant, and she is believed to be making her way up-Channel. We are being given the fullest cooperation by the Navy, and another frigate, HMS Onyx, is standing by off South Foreland to pick her up, probably some time tomorrow evening, when she passes through the Strait of Dover. If our speculations are anywhere near the truth we expect her to be off a lonely part of the Essex marshes in the early hours of Wednesday morning. What will happen then we have no idea, but it is imperative that we should discover what she does. It is equally imperative that no one who may be connected with the affair should know that Mrs Carolan is in the hands of the police – and that she herself should have no opportunity of communicating with anybody else, not even with her husband.’
‘I see.’ The Prime Minister gave a little cough. ‘Is Carolan mixed up in any of this? He has been saying some very odd things lately.’
‘We don’t know. It seems inconceivable, but it also seems inconceivable that Mrs Carolan should pull out a pistol when I was asking her some questions about her father.’
‘If I may ask, Colonel Blair, how did you contrive not to be shot? I have met Mrs Carolan, of course, and she has always struck me as a most competent and determined woman.’
‘Well, she fired her pistol, but it so happened that – er – I was able to seize her wrist before she fired, and the bullet went harmlessly into the wall of her drawing room. It nearly damaged one of the famous Carolan Cezannes – it did hit the frame, but I think it just missed the canvas.’
‘You acted with commendable presence of mind. The dangers to which those who guard the security of the State are exposed are too seldom acknowledged,’ he said sententiously. I made a little bow, and he went on, ‘In all the circumstances I cannot see that it will do much harm to Mrs Carolan to be, shall I say, a temporary guest of the police, but what am I to do if Vivian Carolan demands action to find his missing wife?’
‘I don’t think he’s likely to do that tomorrow. He is speaking at Barrow-in-Furness tonight, and I daresay he’s got other things to do in the north-west. He’s not due back home until Wednesday. By then we shall know more about the ship and, perhaps, of various other things. It’s between now and Wednesday morning that she must be kept out of the way.’
‘Suppose Carolan rings up?’
‘He’ll just get no reply. He may be annoyed, but I doubt if he’ll come rushing back.’
‘It’s a risk that must be taken, I suppose. What, precisely, do you want me to do?’
‘We came, sir, primarily to report to you, so that you are forewarned in what may be a delicate political situation. I don’t think we need ask for any specific action on your part,’ Sir Edmund said. ‘Obviously there are political implications in Mrs Carolan’s activities, the more serious if her husband is in any way involved. You will judge those for yourself, and have your own means of taking such precautions as you think fit. We have explained why we want to hold Mrs Carolan incommunicado for the moment. If you think we have a reasonable case, I would suggest that you do nothing – except pass a private Act of Oblivion on all we have just said, so that if between now and Wednesday any question is raised concerning Mrs Carolan’s whereabouts, you can manifest ignorance.’
‘Which would not be strictly true, Sir Edmund.’
Pusey gave one of his charming little smiles. ‘In the very strictest sense it could be held to be true, because we have deliberately not told you just where Mrs Carolan will be spending her time in police custody. I am not even sure of this myself, because it has yet to be decided.’
‘You’re a dangerous man, Pusey,’ said the PM, ‘but, perhaps, a useful one. Well, gentlemen, it shall be as you wish, but you will understand that I cannot protect you if your plans come unstuck. Carolan has a considerable following in the country – not, I think, as large as he himself believes, but big enough to make it desirable for me to have him in the Government. If it turns out that he has seriously been – er – indiscreet, well, that is another matter. You understand what I mean.’
‘I understand you perfectly,’ said Sir Edmund.
‘That’s all right, then. You must keep me fully informed – Gervase will put you in touch with me at any time of day or night. I think that’s about all we can do for the moment. Goodnight, gentlemen – as you all seem to have missed your dinner, it’s high time you repaired to the police canteen. Don’t you go, Gervase. There’s a lot I want to talk to you about.’
*
We took our dismissal. ‘I think we can do rather better than the canteen,’ said Sir Edmund. ‘My wife will be at home now – let’s see what she can rustle up.’
XI
THE WEST BUXEY BUOY
MRS CAROLAN COMPLAINED about everything. She disliked the room she had been given to sleep in, and she described the breakfast sent up to her as ‘uneatable’, although in fact she left nothing on the tray. She demanded cigarettes and newspapers, and protested angrily at being kept in custody at all. Yet there was a curious air of unreality about her protests, as if she half-expected what had happened, and, at the same time, didn’t quite believe it. She did not seem at all frightened, and her threats of the appalling consequences that were going to come to Seddon and me were made as if she really believed them.
We spent over an hour with her in Seddon’s office, but she refused to answer any of our questions. She was ready enough to speculate on our future, and to tell us what her husband would do to us as soon as she was able to get in touch with him, but at any suggestion that she might explain anything about her father, or tell us what she knew of the dead man in the photographs, she shut up completely. So for the time being we gave up. I had to get to Dover to be flown out to HMS Onyx, and Seddon had a lot of work to do to coordinate police arrangements for the evening. Mrs Carolan was confined to her room, with a woman police officer to keep an eye on her and a policeman on guard outside the door. She asked for a radio, but she was not allowed to have one. However, an extension speaker from a radio under police control was put in her room, and she was told that she could listen to any programme she cared to ask for. She seemed chiefly interested in news.
*
I had had about enough of Mrs Carolan. She would become a major problem again all too soon, but for the rest of the day she could be left where she was. I got a train to Dover, and enjoyed wandering round the place until it was time to report to the helicopter station.
*
The helicopter trip took only a few minutes. When the sling from the winch was put round me I thought vividly of my last descent from a helicopter, to what seemed (and nearly was) certain death from a bullet at point-blank range.* There were no terrors this time. I landed gently at the stern of the frigate, friendly hands quickly slipped off my harness, the crew of the helicopter waved, and that was that. Lieutenant-Commander Richardson, the frigate’s captain, was on the deck to meet me. ‘It’s a bit early for a drink,’ he said, ‘but perhaps you’d like a cup of tea. I’ve got some bits of information for you.’
He took me to his quarters, a pleasantly furnished day cabin, with a sleeping cabin opening off it. His steward came along in a couple of minutes with a pot of tea on a tray. ‘No milk or sugar?’ Lt.-Com. Richardson said as he poured it out. ‘You’re an austere person, Colonel.’
‘Not the tea grower’s best friend,’ I said. ‘I like it straight as it comes but so weak it needs hardly any tea. That’s about four times too strong. Just give me about a quarter of a cupful and fill it up with hot water.’
He laughed. ‘Wouldn’t do for me. I like it strong and sweet, to cut the ice from a man’s beard on a cold watch. I’ll take this one, and put your concoction in another cup.’
One of the virtues of tea is that fiddling with tea things makes for a decently human introduction. The ritual over, Richardson said, ‘Moonstone picked up your vessel off Ushant about this time yesterday. She was heading up-Channel and doing around fifteen knots. According to instructions Moonstone didn’t follow her, but kept her in sight for just over two hours. She then radioed her course and speed – in code – to Plymouth. Soon after first light this morning an aircraft spotted her off Portland and later this morning she was spotted again off Selsey Bill, and a few minutes before you came on board I had a signal to say that she was coming up to Dungeness. She seems to have reduced speed to about twelve knots. If she’s coming through the straits, and it certainly looks like it, she should be about up to where we are now by six o’clock this evening. It will be dark then, of course, and I’m a bit worried about identifying her. I thought of steaming towards her and trying to find her just before it gets dark. If we can do that we’ll have a clear idea of how she comes up on the radar screen, and we should be able to follow her in the dark without too much difficulty. Will she be carrying normal lights?’
‘Oh yes, I should think so. Around this part, anyway – it would be too damned dangerous to be without lights in a seaway as busy as this. For the last leg of her trip – well, I don’t know.’
‘Is it all right to steam towards her now?’
‘Yes, I think you ought to. There’s nothing out of the way in seeing a frigate in the Channel. The important thing is that I don’t want her to realise that she’s being followed.’
‘We’ll do our best.’ He got the Navigating Officer on the intercom to the bridge. The Agnes’s movements were all recorded on the chart, and Richardson gave orders for Onyx to be put on a course to intercept her. I felt the frigate change course and put on speed. ‘We’ll go up on the bridge soon to be on hand to spot her,’ Richardson said. ‘I’m still a bit bothered about how to tail her without her knowing. She’ll have radar, I suppose.’
‘Yes, she’s a well found vessel. But how interested is a watchkeeping officer in something well astern of him that doesn’t gain, and even apparently falls back from time to time? I think we’ll be all right. We needn’t be dead astern, particularly if we’ve guessed right about where she’s going.’
‘I have orders to pick her up and follow her, and put myself at your disposal for what happens next. Do you know where she’s going?’
‘We don’t know. We think she may be making for the Crouch, and the most encouraging bit of news so far is your report that she seems to have reduced speed. If we’re right, she needs to make the entrance to the Crouch a bit this side of midnight – she can’t get there too soon, for there won’t be enough water for where we think she’s going. I’ll explain when we go up on the bridge, and we can have a look at the chart together.’
‘We might go up now, I think. We’re on converging courses, and we’ll close the distance pretty quickly.’
*
There was no luxury about the frigate’s bridge – it was the workplace of the men in charge of her, not made for visitors. But it was a companionable little place, screened by windows, any section of which could be slid back when a view not through glass was needed. The glass on the weather side was closed now, the lee windows open, providing plenty of fresh air. The officer of the watch was on the lee side now, peering at something through binoculars. ‘Spotted her?’ Richardson asked.
‘No, sir, not yet. I thought for a moment that we had, but the vessel I was looking at is clearly a small tanker. The one we want is a general cargo. She should be coming up soon, though, roughly on this bearing.’
‘Well, carry on, and let me know as soon as you see her. I’ll be in the chart room.’
The chart room was a small cabin opening directly from the bridge. Here the Navigating Officer was studying a large-scale chart of the Dungeness to Dover section of the Channel, scaling off distances with dividers. Richardson introduced us. ‘Whereabouts is she now?’ he asked.
‘If she’s kept to her last reported course, about here,’ the Navigating Officer replied, indicating a position with the point of the dividers. ‘We should pick her up at almost any moment now, and cross about two miles ahead of her. You haven’t given any orders after that.’
‘How close is it safe for us to get to her?’ Richardson asked me.
‘No closer than is needed to identify her,’ I said. ‘She’s in the standard livery of the T and T line – white funnel with a broad blue band, with interlaced Ts in a white circle on the blue. I don’t think it will be necessary to get close enough to read her name, though if you can make it out with a powerful glass, so much the better. The important thing is to cross without apparently taking any notice of her, and then hold our course until we’re out of sight, keeping track of her on radar. As soon as we are safely out of sight, we can turn and follow her.’
A seaman came to the door of the chart room. ‘Officer of the Watch’s compliments, sir, and he’s got his glasses on the ship,’ he said to Richardson.
Richardson had his own binoculars round his neck. He took a pair from a rack in the chart room and handed them to me. I followed him back on to the bridge.
The weather was deteriorating. The fitful sunshine of my wanderings round Dover had gone, and the evening was coming on with low grey clouds and that scudding Channel wrack that makes a watery no-man’s land of the space between sky and sea. Onyx was meeting a cross-sea, her bows plunging into the hollows, throwing a cascade of spray over the foredeck as she came up. Visibility was poor, and I marvelled that the sailors on the bridge could see anything. As my eyes got accustomed to the conditions, however, I could make out a speck fine on the port bow that might well be a ship. The Officer of the Watch handed me his own glasses. ‘You’ll do better with these low-powered ones,’ he said. ‘Yours will magnify all the water droplets in the atmosphere to such an extent that you’ll scarcely see the target.’
I focused the glasses, and, sure enough, found myself looking at a cargo carrier that seemed to fit the description of the T and T line’s MV Agnes. The colours were right, and I thought I could make out a circle that might be the T and T cipher on the funnel. The more experienced watchkeepers had no doubt. ‘It’s her all right,’ Richardson said. ‘I doubt if we’ll be able to make out her name, but from what you say, and her position now, I think it must be Agnes.’
Onyx was steaming around twenty knots. Agnes was coming up perhaps twelve knots, so the distance between us closed rapidly. We crossed without danger, and as we drew away Richardson said, ‘That settles it. I couldn’t make out the whole Agnes, but the name’s the right length, and I’m certain it begins with an A.’
It was good work, I thought, to intercept another ship so accurately on such an evening. Richardson was pleased when I said so, but made light of it, observing, ‘It’s what we’re trained for. Now, if you’d like us to sink her that really would be an exercise.’
‘You’ll have to disappoint your gunners,’ I said. ‘Well, if you can produce some more charts we’ll try to work out what comes next.’
Richardson gave the necessary orders for the discreet shadowing of Agnes and we returned to the chart room. I explained briefly what I thought she was going to do, and the Navigating Officer said, ‘She’ll have to keep well clear of the Downs and the Goodwins. Once clear of the North Foreland she’ll be cutting across traffic bound for the Thames. If she really is making for the Crouch I reckon she’ll go a bit north before she turns west – I would, anyway. She’s got some time in hand, and she can probably put on a lot more speed if she wants to.’
My navigation is more accustomed to speeds of three to five knots than fifteen to twenty, and wind is all-important. I didn’t much like the wind now – it was strong from the east, with a bit of north in it, blowing at around Force 6, and seemed likely to increase. The powerful Agnes and still more powerful Onyx could, I suppose, largely ignore the wind. Or could they? A seaman brought in a Met. report that had just been received by radio, and both Richardson and the Navigating Officer studied it.
