Blackstone and the Endgame (2 page)

There was a knock on the door, and a uniformed sergeant entered the office.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but Superintendent Brigham wants to see you right away,' he said.

‘Who?' Blackstone replied, mystified.

‘Superintendent Brigham – the new head of the Special Branch,' said Patterson, who kept track of all kinds of people in his head. ‘He was a major in the army, served in India with the Worcester Regiment for a number of years, lives in Peckham and has two grown-up children, one of whom has just started training to be a lawyer.'

‘Anything else?' Blackstone asked.

‘No, that's about as much as I know,' Patterson admitted.

‘And you're sure it's me that Superintendent Brigham wants to see?' Blackstone asked the sergeant.

‘Yes, sir. He was quite definite about it.'

‘Well, you
are
going up in the world, sir,' Patterson said.

Yes, wasn't he? Blackstone thought. The Branch – originally formed to combat Irish terrorism – had always regarded itself as a cut above every other department in Scotland Yard, so why would it even bother talking to a lowly detective inspector like him?

‘He did say
immediately
, sir,' the sergeant persisted nervously.

‘Well, it's been nice working with you, sir – and I hope you remember us little people with affection when you've been raised to new and dizzying heights,' Patterson said.

‘Oh, do put a sock in it, Archie,' Blackstone said, as he headed towards the door.

Superintendent Brigham had a bullet-shaped head, to the top of which a thatch of iron-grey hair clung on precariously. There was no evidence of great intelligence in his cold grey eyes, nor any hint of humour in his tightly drawn mouth. And though he was making some effort to contain it, he was clearly very angry.

But if he was angry, if he really didn't want this inferior being from one of the lower floors in his office – and he clearly
didn't
– then why was the meeting taking place at all?

The superintendent gazed at the inspector for nearly a minute, almost as if he was a butcher assessing how much the other man would fetch per pound.

‘So you're Blackstone,' he said finally.

‘Yes, sir.'

‘They tell me you once saved the life of our late Queen,' Brigham said in a voice that suggested it seemed unlikely that any man wearing a second-hand brown suit would ever have been capable of such heroism.

‘It was a long time ago,' Blackstone replied.

‘But you
did
save her?' Brigham persisted, as if expecting Blackstone to be decent enough to make some modest disclaimer, on the lines of him only being one small cog in a very large machine.

‘Yes, I did save her,' Blackstone replied, because while he wasn't going to brag about it, he wasn't going to lie about it, either, and the fact was that but for his actions – and his actions alone – Queen Victoria would have died on the very day she was celebrating her Diamond Jubilee.

‘Hmm,' Brigham said disapprovingly. ‘Still, none of us can live for ever on our past glories, can we?'

‘No, sir,' Blackstone agreed.

‘Tell me, Inspector, what do you think is the main threat to this country at the moment?' Brigham asked. ‘What do you think is really worrying our masters in government?'

When a man like Brigham asked a big question of an underling, Blackstone thought, it was usually because he believed he himself had the answer – and the underling didn't.

‘I should imagine that the strength of the German army along the Western Front is causing them some concern,' he said, playing along with the superintendent's game.

‘You are wrong,' Brigham told him. ‘The German army might seem formidable, but our brave British Tommies will overcome the cowardly Huns in the end.'

‘There are brave men in the German infantry, too, you know,' said Blackstone, who had been to the Western Front and seen the bloody stalemate there with his own eyes.

‘I consider that to be a very unpatriotic statement,' Superintendent Brigham said angrily.

‘Do you, sir?' Blackstone asked calmly. ‘
I
consider it to be no more than a statement of fact.'

‘The real threat is from the German navy – and, specifically, its U-boats,' Brigham said, brushing aside Blackstone's comment as if it had never been uttered. He paused to light up a cigarette, though he did not offer one to his guest. ‘We are a small island, Inspector. We cannot grow enough to feed ourselves, and so much of our food must be imported. And as the damned Huns keep sinking our supply ships, we are edging perilously close to starvation.'

He sat back in his seat, as if he was waiting for his visitor to applaud his brilliant insight.

‘Ah, that probably explains why there's not much food around – at least, not in the poorer areas,' Blackstone said.

Brigham scowled. ‘Are you trying to be funny?' he demanded.

‘No, sir,' Blackstone replied. ‘I'm just agreeing with you that there's not much food around.'

‘In order to sink these U-boats, we first need accurate intelligence on their exact location,' Brigham continued, backing out of the blind alley which, it seemed to him, Blackstone was trying to lead him up, ‘and, fortunately, that intelligence is now almost within our grasp. We have a source – or, more accurately,
I
have a source – in the German high command. He has already given us a sample of the kind of material that he will be able to provide on a regular basis, and the Admiralty assures me that it is first-class.'

Blackstone was growing tired of the man – and tired of his self-serving conversation.

‘With the greatest respect, sir, I don't see what any of this has to do with me,' he said.

‘Perhaps if you'd shut up and listen, you'd find out,' the superintendent snapped. ‘Our source wants twenty-five thousand pounds in return for further intelligence, and you are to deliver that money to him.'

‘Why me?' Blackstone asked, puzzled. ‘Couldn't one of your lads in Special Branch do it?'

‘Yes,' Brigham said, the anger now clearly evident in his tone, ‘one of my highly trained officers most certainly could, and I would much rather entrust it to an officer under my command than to an inspector who has had what can be called – at best – a chequered career. But that option is regrettably not open to me. The man insists that you should be the go-between. He simply refuses to accept anyone else.' Brigham coughed awkwardly. ‘He seems to believe that you are an honourable man and that he can trust you.'

Blackstone's mind sifted through the names of all the Germans he had had dealings with over the years and attempted to isolate any who might conceivably have ended up in the German navy.

‘What's the man's name?' he asked.

‘He is known to us as Max.'

‘Max what?'

‘No more than that – simply Max.'

Blackstone gasped.

‘So you're prepared to hand over twenty-five thousand pounds to a man you don't know, on the basis of the one piece of information he's already given you?' he asked incredulously.

‘That is the decision that has been taken,' Brigham said stonily. ‘Here are Max's instructions. This afternoon, you will go to Harrods department store, where you will purchase a leather attaché case and—'

‘Max said that explicitly, did he?' Blackstone asked. ‘He wants
me
to purchase the case?'

‘Yes, that is what he said.'

‘But why does it matter
who
buys the case?'

‘That's of no importance,' Brigham said airily.

Meaning, ‘I've absolutely no idea why it matters,' Blackstone translated in his head.

‘Has Max laid down what size or make of attaché case I should buy?' he asked aloud.

‘No. He seems happy enough to leave the choice to you.'

‘So he insists that I buy it and that it's bought from Harrods, but he doesn't care what kind of attaché case it is,' Blackstone said, to make sure he'd got it quite right.

‘You are allowing yourself to get bogged down in details,' Brigham said irritably. ‘I, on the other hand, am able to focus on the bigger picture – which is perhaps why I am a superintendent and you are a mere inspector.'

It was the little details that
made up
the big picture, Blackstone thought – but he said nothing.

‘You will take the case to the corner of Denmark Street and Cable Street, arriving at midnight on the dot,' Brigham continued. ‘There, you will be handed the twenty-five thousand pounds, which you will put into the case. After that, you will proceed to the Western Dock, where you will meet Max.'

‘It's a big place, the Western Dock,' Blackstone said, almost whimsically. ‘Is there any particular part of it in which the meeting is supposed to take place?'

‘Max would not say. You are to go to the dock, and he will find you. You will hand him the money, he will give you the documents, and then you may return to the job you are best suited for – which is chasing petty criminals.'

Well, if it had to done, then at least he could make sure it was done properly, Blackstone thought.

‘I would like my own man, Sergeant Patterson, on the team that's covering my back,' he said. ‘In fact, I shall insist on it.'

‘You're in no position to
insist
on anything,' Brigham told him. ‘Besides, there will
be
no team.'

‘What!'

‘One of the conditions that Max has laid down is that you go in alone. He has made it crystal clear that if there are any police officers within five streets of the docks, he will not make the exchange.'

‘So there won't even be any coppers guarding the dock gates?'

‘When I said
any
police officers, I meant, of course, any officers who would not normally be in the area at that time,' Brigham said, stung. ‘Max accepts the need to maintain the officers on the gates, but he has specified that the only thing they should be told is that when you appear, they are to allow you to enter the dock.'

‘For their own protection, they should be warned there could be trouble,' Blackstone said.

‘There will be no trouble,' Brigham said confidently. ‘We want the plans that Max has in his possession, and he wants the twenty-five thousand pounds you will be carrying. There is no reason why it shouldn't all be as smooth as silk.'

‘There's a hundred ways the thing could go wrong,' Blackstone told him. ‘The whole idea is insane.'

‘Do I take it from what you've just said that you are refusing to obey a direct order?' Brigham barked.

‘Oh no, I'll do it,' Blackstone replied. ‘I'll even do it the way you want it done – but that doesn't make it any less crazy.'

There were many things about the Goldsmiths' Arms to recommend it as a watering hole, but the one that Blackstone and Patterson particularly liked was its location. It stood at the corner of Lant Street and Lant Place, which was far enough from the Yard to ensure that when the two of them wished to have a serious conversation, they need have no fear of being overheard by any other coppers. And so they had become a familiar sight in the pub, and when they entered it – and they were easy to spot, since Blackstone was half a head taller than most of the other customers, and Patterson fifty per cent wider – the locals, accepting their need for privacy, would edge to other end of the bar.

They were having a serious conversation that lunchtime, though it was Blackstone who had done most of the talking so far.

‘What's got me really puzzled,' he said, when he had finished briefing Patterson on the meeting with Brigham, ‘is why this Max should have insisted on me as the courier.'

‘Didn't the superintendent mention something about Max thinking you were an honourable man who he could trust?' Patterson asked.

‘Yes, he did,' Blackstone agreed. ‘That's exactly what he said. But Max must know that since
Brigham's
in charge of the operation,
Brigham's
the man he needs to trust, and looked at from that perspective, it's irrelevant who's actually chosen to carry the money.'

‘You've got a point,' Patterson admitted.

‘If there's a trap, it's Brigham who'll set it. If the deal goes through as planned, it will be because Brigham has decided that's what should happen,' Blackstone continued. ‘You could train a dog to carry the money and pick up the plans – so why does it have to be me?'

‘Another good point,' Patterson agreed.

‘And then there's the fact that he insists I'm the one who buys the attaché case,' Blackstone said. ‘Why should it matter who actually buys the bloody thing? And why, in God's name, do I have to buy it from Harrods?'

‘I don't know,' Patterson said. ‘But what I
do
know is that what he's asking you to do is well above and beyond the call of duty.'

‘I'm not sure there
is
anything above and beyond—'

‘And in my opinion, sir, you should have turned him down flat the very moment he asked you to do it.'

‘
Ordered
me to do it,' Blackstone corrected him. ‘But say he
had
merely asked – if I'd turned him down, he'd only have sent some other poor bugger in, wouldn't he?'

‘Exactly!' Patterson agreed, as if he thought he'd just won the argument. ‘He'd have sent some other poor bugger in! In other words, he wouldn't have sent
you
.'

‘And if things went badly in the docks, would this other poor bugger be able to deal with them as well as I could?'

‘Of course not!' Patterson said sarcastically. ‘You're the great Sam Blackstone – there's not a copper in the world could deal with things going wrong half as well as you could.'