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The Enemy
The Enemy
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The Enemy

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‘Um,’ said Ogilvie obscurely. ‘Anything else?’

‘The way he was pressuring me into marrying Penny was bloody strange. I thought at one time he’d bring out the traditional shotgun.’ I grinned. ‘A Purdy, of course – for formal weddings.’

‘You know what I think,’ said Ogilvie. ‘I think Ashton is scared to death; not on his own behalf but on account of his girls. He seems to think that if he can get your Penny away from him she’ll be all right. What do you think?’

‘It fits all right,’ I said. ‘And I don’t like one damned bit of it.’

‘Poor Ashton. He didn’t have the time to polish up a scheme which showed no cracks, and he sprang it on you too baldly. I’ll bet he pulled that Australian job out of thin air.’

‘Who is Ashton?’ I asked.

‘Sorry; I can’t tell you that.’ Ogilvie blew a plume of smoke. ‘I talked very high-handedly to that chap this morning. I told him you’d take on the job as soon as you knew what was involved, but he knew damned well that I can’t tell you a thing. That’s what he was objecting to in an oblique way.’

‘This is bloody silly,’ I said.

‘Not really. You’ll only be doing what you’d be doing anyway, knowing what you know now.’

‘Which is?’

‘Bodyguarding the girl. Of course, I’ll ask you to bodyguard Ashton, too. It’s a package deal, you see; one automatically includes the other.’

‘And without knowing the reason why?’

‘You know the reason why. You’ll be guarding Penelope Ashton because you don’t want her to get a faceful of sulphuric acid, and that should be reason enough for any tender lover. As for Ashton – well, our friend this morning was right. A commander can’t tell his private soldiers his plans when he sends them into battle. He just tells them where to go and they pick up their feet.’

‘The analogy is false, and you know it,’ I said. ‘How can I guard a man if I don’t know who or what I’m guarding him against? That’s like sending a soldier into battle not only without telling him where the enemy is, but who the enemy is.’

‘Well, then,’ said Ogilvie tranquilly. ‘It looks as though you’ll have to do it for the sake of my bright blue eyes.’

He had me there and I think he knew it. I had an idea that Mr Nameless, whoever he was, could be quite formidable and Ogilvie had defused what might have been a nasty situation that morning. I owed him something for it. Besides, the cunning old devil’s eyes were green.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But it isn’t a one-man job.’

‘I’m aware of that. Spend this afternoon thinking out your requirements – I want them on my desk early tomorrow morning. Oh, by the way – you don’t disclose yourself.’

I opened my mouth and then closed it again slowly before I swore at him. Then I said, ‘You must be joking. I have to guard a man without telling him I’m guarding him?’

‘I’m sure you’ll do it very well,’ he said suavely, and rang for the waiter.

‘Then you’ll be astonished at what I’ll need,’ I said acidly.

He nodded, then asked curiously, ‘Hasn’t it disturbed you that you’ll be marrying into a rather mysterious family?’

‘It’s Penny I’m marrying, not Ashton.’ I grinned at him. ‘Aren’t you disturbed for the same reason?’

‘Don’t think I’m not,’ he said seriously, and left me to make of that what I could.

SEVEN (#ulink_6642f25b-3694-5f14-8d65-c35d719b9259)

When I got back to the office Larry Godwin looked me up and down critically. ‘I was just about to send out a search party. The griffin is that you’ve been given a real bollocking. I was just about to go down to the cellar to see if they really do use thumbscrews.’

‘Nothing to it,’ I said airily. ‘I was given the RSPCA medal for being kind to Joe Harrison – that’s all.’

‘Very funny,’ he said acidly, and flapped open a day-old copy of Pravda. ‘The only time you’ll get a medal is when you come with me when I get my knighthood.’ He watched me putting a few things in a bag. ‘Going somewhere?’

‘I won’t be around for a couple of days or so.’

‘Lucky devil. I never get out of this bloody office.’

‘You will one day,’ I said consolingly. ‘You have to go to Buck House to get a knighthood.’ I leaned against the desk. ‘You really should be in Slav Section. Why did you opt for General Duties?’

‘I thought it would be more exciting,’ he said, and added sourly, ‘I was wrong.’

‘With you around, the phrase “as happy as Larry” takes on an entirely new meaning.’ I thought he was going to throw something at me so I ducked out fast.

I drove to Marlow and found the police station. My name presented to the desk sergeant got me Honnister in jig time. He shared an office with another inspector and when I indicated a desire for privacy Honnister shrugged and said, ‘Oh, well; we can use an interview room. It’s not as comfortable as here, though.’

‘That’s all right.’

The other copper closed a file and stood up. ‘I’m going, anyway. I don’t want to pry into your girlish secrets, Charlie.’ He gave me a keen glance as he went out. He’d know me again if he saw me.

Honnister sat at his desk and scowled. ‘Secretive crowd, your lot.’

I grinned. ‘I don’t see you wearing a copper’s uniform.’

‘I had one of your blokes on the blower this morning – chap by the name of Harrison – threatening me with the Tower of London and unnameable tortures if I talk about you.’

I sat down. ‘Joe Harrison is a silly bastard, but he means well.’

‘If anyone knows how to keep secrets it’s a copper,’ said Honnister. ‘Especially one in the plain clothes branch. I know enough local secrets to blow Marlow apart. Your chap ought to know that.’ He sounded aggrieved.

I cursed Harrison and his ham-fisted approach; if he’d queered my pitch with the local law I’d string him up by the thumbs when I got back. I said, ‘Inspector, I told you last night I had no official connection with Ashton. It was true then, but it is no longer true. My people now have a definite interest.’

He grunted. ‘I know. I’ve been asked to make an extra copy of all my reports on the Ashton case. As though I don’t have enough to do without producing a lot of bloody bumf for people who won’t even give me the time of day without consulting the Official Secrets Act.’ His resentment was growing.

I said quickly, ‘Oh, hell; you can forget that nonsense – just as long as I can see your file copies.’

‘You got authority for that?’

I smiled at him. ‘A man has all the authority he can take. I’ll carry the can if there’s a comeback.’

He stared at me and then his lips curved in amusement. ‘You and me will get on all right,’ he said. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘First, how’s the girl?’

‘We haven’t been allowed to talk to her so she must be pretty bad. And I need a description. I don’t even know the sex of the assailant.’

‘So that means no visitors.’

‘None except the family. Her sister has been at the hospital most of the day.’

I said, ‘I think I might be able to help you there. Suppose I got Penny to ask Gillian for a description. That would do to be going on with until you can ask her yourself.’ He nodded. ‘I won’t be seeing her until later. Where will you be tonight?’

‘Theoretically off duty. But I’ll be sinking a couple of pints in the Coach and Horses between nine and ten. I’m meeting someone who might give me a lead on another case. You can ring me there. Doyle, the landlord, knows me.’

‘Okay. Now, how have you got on with the acid?’

Honnister shrugged. ‘About as far as you’d expect. It’s battery acid, and the stuff’s too common. There are filling stations all around here, and then it might have come from somewhere else.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘To me this has the smell of a London job.’

‘Have you seen Ashton?’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen Ashton. He says he can think of absolutely no reason why his daughter should be attacked in such a manner. No reason whatsoever. It was like talking to a bloody stone wall.’

‘I’ll be talking to him myself tonight. Maybe I’ll get something.’

‘Does he know who – and what – you are?’

‘No, he doesn’t; and he mustn’t find out, either.’

‘You blokes lead interesting lives,’ said Honnister, and grinned crookedly. ‘And you wanting to marry his daughter, too.’

I smiled. ‘Where did you get that?’

‘Just pieced it together from what you told me last night, and from what one of the uniformed boys picked up when talking over a cuppa with the Ashtons’ maid. I told you I hear secrets – and I’m not a bad jack, even though I say it myself.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Tell me a few secrets about Ashton.’

‘Not known to the police. Not criminally. The CPO had a few words with him.’

‘CPO?’

‘Crime Prevention Officer. There are a lot of big houses around here full of expensive loot worth nicking. The CPO calls in to check on the burglar-proofing. You’d be surprised how stupid some of these rich twits can be. A man will fill his house with a quarter of a million quids’ worth of paintings and antiques and balk at spending a couple of thousand on keeping the stuff safe.’

‘How is Ashton’s burglar-proofing?’

Honnister grinned. ‘It might rank second to the Bank of England,’ he conceded.

That interested me. ‘Anything more on Ashton?’

‘Nothing relevant. But he wasn’t the one who was attacked, was he?’ He leaned forward. ‘Have you thought of the possibility that Gillian Ashton might have been sleeping in the wrong bed? There are two things I think of when I hear of an acid attack on a woman; the first is that it could be a gangland punishment, and the other is that it’s one woman taking revenge on another.’

‘I’ve thought of it. Penny discounts it, and I don’t go much for it myself. I don’t think she’s the kind.’

‘Maybe, but I’ve been doing a bit of nosing around. I haven’t come up with anything yet, but I can’t discount it.’

‘Of course you can’t.’

I stood up, and Honnister said, ‘Don’t expect too much too quickly. In fact, don’t expect anything at all. I’ve no great hopes of this case. Anyway, we’ve not gone twenty-four hours yet.’

That was so, and it surprised me. So much had happened that day that it seemed longer. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in touch tonight.’

EIGHT (#ulink_2a41636e-cc7b-5d85-ab00-79ef5bbbca4d)

I drove in the direction of Ashton’s house and cruised around slowly, making circuits on the country roads and looking for anything out of the ordinary such as cars parked on the verge with people in them doing nothing in particular. There was nothing like that so after an hour of futility I gave up and drove directly to the house.

The gates were locked but there was a bell-push which I pressed. While I waited I studied the gates in the light of what Honnister had said about Ashton’s burglar-proofing. They were of ornamental wrought-iron, about ten feet high, very spiky on top, and hung on two massive stone pillars. They barred an opening in an equally high chainmesh fence, unobtrusive because concealed by trees, which evidently circled the estate. All very good, but the gates hadn’t been closed the day before.

Presently a man came down the drive, dressed in rough country clothes. I hadn’t seen him before. He looked at me through the gates and said curtly, ‘Yes?’

‘My name is Malcolm Jaggard. I’d like to see Mr Ashton.’

‘He’s not in.’

‘Miss Ashton?’

‘They’re not in, either.’

I tugged thoughtfully at my ear. ‘What about Benson?’

He looked at me for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll see.’ He stepped to one side behind one of the stone pillars and I heard a click and then the whirr of a telephone dial. There’s a phrase for what was happening; it’s known as closing the stable door after the horse has gone.

The man came back into sight and wordlessly began to unlock the gate, so I got back into the car and drove up to the house. Benson, in his courtly Boris Karloff manner, ushered me into the living-room, and said, ‘I don’t expect Miss Penelope will be long, sir. She rang to say she would be back at five.’

‘Did she say how Gillian is?’

‘No, sir.’ He paused, then shook his head slowly. ‘This is a bad business, sir. Disgracefully bad.’

‘Yes.’ I had always been taught that it is bad form to question servants about their masters, but I had no compunction now. Benson had never struck me as being one of your run-of-the-mill house servants, least of all at that very moment because, unless he’d developed a fast-growing tumour under his left armpit, he was wearing a gun. ‘I see you have a guard on the gate.’

‘Yes; that’s Willis. I’ll give him your name so he will let you in.’

‘How is Mr Ashton taking all this?’

‘Remarkably well. He went to his office as usual this morning. Would you care for a drink, sir?’

‘Thank you. I’ll have a scotch.’

He crossed the room, opened a cabinet, and shortly came back with a tray which he put on a small table next to my elbow. ‘If you will excuse me, sir.’

‘Thank you, Benson.’ He was not staying around to be questioned, but even if he had I doubted if I could have got much out of him. He tended to speak in clichés and bland generalities, but whether he thought that way was quite another matter.

I had not long to wait for Penny and was barely half way through the drink when she came into the room. ‘Oh, Malcolm; how good to see you. What a blessed man you are.’ She looked tired and drawn.

‘I said I’d come. How’s Gillian?’

‘A little better, I think. She’s getting over the shock.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it. I had a talk with Honnister, the police inspector in charge of the case. He wants to interview her.’