Dead Ground in Between (26 page)

Golden got to his feet and came around the desk with his hand outstretched.

“Inspector Tyler. Welcome. I'm glad to meet you finally. I've heard a lot about you.”

The obvious rejoinder was “All good, I hope,” but Tyler didn't feel like engaging in superficial jollity. He didn't think the lieutenant colonel was the kind of man who tolerated coy rejoinders. If he said, “I've heard a lot about you,” that's what he meant, no more, no less. Handshake (firm) over, he gestured for Tyler to take a seat and returned to his chair behind the desk.

“What can I do for you, Inspector? I must admit, your telephone call was most mysterious. You said you could not talk about your business unless we had a face-to-face meeting.”

Tyler nodded. “It involves the Official Secrets Act, sir.”

“Does it indeed?”

There was a tap on the door and the female officer entered carrying a tea tray. Tyler thought he'd relay this to Mortimer.

“Thank you, Miss Blandford,” said the chief. “You can put it on the desk. Ah, I see you've managed to dig out some biscuits. How clever of you. And my favourite digestives too.” Miss Blandford slipped away unobtrusively. Golden held up the teapot, which was protected by a knitted tea cozy. “Inspector? Allow me to pour you a cup. You must be parched after your journey.”

For a moment, Tyler thought the chief had him confused with somebody else who had come in from the wilds of London or Scotland. His journey, after all, had lasted only half an hour. Nevertheless, he smiled politely and accepted the cup of tea the chief offered him.

“You can doctor it as you like,” said Golden.

Tyler helped himself liberally to milk and sugar. Why not? This was the seat of the county constabulary, after all. They probably had more generous rations than Ludlow.

All that ritual taken care of, Golden put his cup and saucer on his desk.

“Now then. Do continue. Official Secrets Act, you said.”

Tyler related what had happened to Jasper Cartwright and where they'd found him. Golden listened attentively.

“Poor bugger. What a rotten way to die. And the coroner thought he could have been saved if he'd got medical attention soon enough?”

“That's right. I will press for a second-degree murder charge.”

Golden drummed his fingers on his desk. “I can see how it would be most important to find out who would know the whereabouts of the hideout.” He bit his lip. “Bit of a problem. We've eased up somewhat from '40, when it was all most hush-hush – directives from Churchill himself. He thought it was only by keeping the cells small and absolutely tight-lipped that we could protect the wider network in the event of capture by the enemy. It's the principle foreign Resistance organizations should operate on and don't always.”

“You said it was a bit of a problem, sir. I assume you
do
have a list of Auxiliaries?”

“It's locked in my safe. Thank God we haven't been invaded to date and I haven't been coerced into revealing the combination.”

Tyler had the impression Golden wasn't the kind of man who would be susceptible to coercion, as he termed it, but who knows? He'd been told every man had his breaking point.

The chief constable tossed back the dregs of his tea, stood, crossed the room, and locked the door.

“Miss Blandford is totally trustworthy but this is standard procedure.”

He walked to the wall behind his desk, where there hung a rather insipid framed portrait of King George. He removed the print, revealing what looked like a small safe recessed into the wall.

“Not too imaginative a concealment, but this safe is supposed to be completely bombproof.” He began to turn the combination lock. “I've memorized this…or at least I hope so.”

Whatever he did must have been right because the safe opened at a tug. He reached inside and took out a manila envelope. It was sealed with a red wax seal that looked very official. The words “
TOP SECRET
” were stamped across the front. Using
a letter opener he quickly slit the wax seal and removed a single sheet of paper from the envelope.

“Let's see, the only ones you are interested in are the members of the Bitterley cell. There are two agents in that area. This county isn't considered high priority so all of the cells are small.” He scanned the paper. “Now here it gets a mite complicated. What I have are the code names. Their real names are somewhere else.” He looked at Tyler with a rather embarrassed expression. “Makes things awkward but obviously much safer. If this did fall into Boche hands, they still wouldn't know who the men were.”

The chief handed him the sheet of paper. There were only two names:
EZEKIEL
and
ZECHARIAH
.

“The Auxiliaries favour biblical names,” said Golden.

“How can I get the real names, sir?”

“Those are in the possession of the chief inspector for Shrewsbury.” He drummed his fingers again. “Deuced bad timing for you, but McDavitt is this moment undergoing an emergency appendectomy in hospital. Oh, he's not in danger, apparently, but he won't be
compos mentis
until tomorrow. However, I shall visit him first thing and get the combination to his safe. I'll get the real names you're looking for. We won't be able to ring you, can't risk being compromised. Do you want to stay here overnight? Or would you rather get back? Won't make things move any faster if you do stay.”

“I'll get back then, sir.”

“All right. I'll have one of my constables catch the first train into Ludlow and deliver the information personally.”

Tyler exhaled. Damn. He didn't think there was any way they could speed up the process but he didn't want to let anything – make that
anybody
– slip through his fingers.

“I'll have that paper back, if you don't mind,” said Golden. “Have you memorized the information?”

Tyler nodded. Two names weren't exactly taxing to his brain.

He stood up. “Thank you, sir. I wonder if I mightn't make a telephone call to my sergeant before I leave.”

“Of course, ask Miss Blandford to connect you. And next time you come to Shrewsbury, Inspector, let's make sure we get in a luncheon or even a dinner. I have the feeling we have a lot in common.”

Tyler was rather flattered by the comment, although he wasn't sure what the chief could be referring to. They came from totally different backgrounds.
Perhaps he's was suffering from a heartache as well
.

Golden walked him to the door, his hand on Tyler's shoulder.

“I hope you nab the culprit quickly. We've got enough savagery happening on the front. Last thing we need is to bring it here.” He lowered his voice. “Tell you the truth, in confidence, Inspector, I'm thinking of re-enlisting in the army. I've been a military man for so much of my life, I can't get used to sitting behind a desk while the fight goes on elsewhere. I believe my experience might be put to better use on the front lines than pushing paper around here.”

“Good luck, sir. I wish you well.”

They shook hands again, and Tyler went out to the reception desk to make his request to the efficient Miss Blandford. She put him through to the Ludlow police station immediately and Rowell came on the line.

“Any word on the boys, Oliver?”

“I'm afraid not, sir. It's so blasted dark now that I don't know what else we can do. I told the search party to come back. They've been out there for two hours at least. With the blackout in operation we can't show much light as it is.”

“Nothing from the hideout?”

“Not a jot. We went there right away but there's no sign they've been there.”

Damn. Tyler had been hoping the boys would be found in the hideout.

“How is Mrs. Keogh holding up?”

“She's blaming herself, but I don't know what she could have done differently. She was at work, and obviously the nippers were determined to take off.”

“Surely they can't have gone that far, Oliver.”

“There is some traffic on the high road, sir. Perhaps they hitched a ride. Although, God knows, you'd think a driver would question two kids off on their own.”

“I wouldn't put it past Jan to have cooked up a plausible story.”

“I can send off a general telegram to all Shropshire stations. Tell them the boys are considered missing.”

“Good.”

“How did your meeting go, sir?”

“I can't talk about it over the telephone. I'll fill you in when I see you. I'm catching the next train in half an hour. I should be home by seven –”

Rowell gave a little cough. “Excuse me, sir. If you won't be back until seven, will you be able to make your appointment with Mrs. Hamilton's client?”

Tyler gasped. “Oh my God, I completely forgot. I was supposed to meet her at the pictures.”

“That's right, sir. Half past seven I believe you said was the time.”

“Oliver, I won't make it. Even if I did get back by seven, I'm in no mood to romance a strange woman.”

The cough again. “I don't think you have to romance, exactly, but I do agree you might not be able to give the appointment your full attention.”

“What shall I do?”

“I was about to take my tea break. I'll run down to Mrs. Hamilton's and tell her. Hopefully, she'll be able to head her client off at the pass.”

“Thank you, thank you, Oliver. You are my saviour. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Tea at De Grey's as soon as we can arrange it.”

“Not necessary, but thank you, sir. I won't say no. I do enjoy their Eccles cakes in particular.”

“Get me out of this mess and it's a week of Eccles cakes for you.”

“Jan, I'm going to be sick.”

Pim was as good as his word and he vomited before he could even get his head over the side of the cot.

“Weeping Jesus,” said his brother.

“I'm sorry. I couldn't hold it b-back.”

Jan grabbed his handkerchief and tried to wipe up the mess.

“I have a b-bad headache,” whimpered Pim.

“Get up the ladder and stick your nose through the crack. You probably need fresh air.”

“I don't know if I can. My legs feel wobbly.”

Jan made himself speak calmly. His head was hurting too, and he felt queasy, but he had to set an example.

“Lie down, then. I'll see if I can force open the trap door a bit more. It'll make us colder but we'll get a bit of air.”

He started to climb the ladder but his legs didn't feel as strong as normal either. He made himself get to the top and shoved hard on the trap door. It didn't budge. He did what he'd told his brother to do and shoved his face against the narrow gap. The chill damp air felt wonderful. He tried
again to push the trap door open and for a moment there was some movement, but then the tree branch moved and fell farther across the trap door, closing it even more tightly with a clang. His blessed air hole was almost gone. Outside he could see nothing but pitch-dark. No sound except the wind howling in the trees. The rain was lashing at the branches.

He knew calling for help would do no good. He shouted anyway.

“Help! Help! Is anybody there? Please help us!”

The return journey to Ludlow took double the time. The train stopped twice so the engineer could clear debris off the tracks. It was a corridor train, and all the seats in the compartments were taken up by weary factory women already half asleep. The men, Tyler included, had to make do with sitting or leaning outside in the corridor. Nobody talked much, they were too tired. Other than sharing a cigarette with a bloke, Tyler didn't engage anybody in conversation.

His legs were aching by the time they pulled into Ludlow Station and he climbed stiffly down to the platform. There was the usual muted light of torches as the passengers made their way across the bridge toward home.

Suddenly a shadowy figure appeared at his elbow. “Hello, sir. I've come to give you a lift.”

“Good lord, Oliver. Are you real or are you an angel?”

“Quite real, sir. I thought, seeing that it has been such a long journey, you'd appreciate a lift to the station.”

“
Appreciate
, Oliver? If I weren't your boss, I'd kiss you.”

Rowell chuckled. “Not necessary, sir. That hill can seem like Everest when you're tired.” He swung his torch. “The car's out front.”

Tyler walked with him across the bridge. All the other tiny lights bobbed away from them like fireflies as the passengers departed.

“This is a terrible extravagance, Oliver. I don't know how I can justify it.”

“Don't worry, sir. I applied a bit of ingenuity, as it were.”

He flashed his light on the solitary car parked in the tiny car park.

“Am I hallucinating, Sergeant? Do you have a magic wand? You seem to have turned Annabel into a Rolls-Royce!”

Rowell beamed. “Like I said, I applied a little ingenuity. When I rang the station master to check on your arrival time, he said the train was delayed as much as an hour. I know how tedious that can be so off I trotted to see Sir Edward Spence. I told him that I needed to requisition his motorcar for important police business.”

“My God.”

“In my view, picking you up on a night like this was at least as important as Sir Edward driving off to see a man in Wem about some bloody birds.”

“Did he agree willingly?”

“Fairly willingly. I did say he could have some of our petrol ration to compensate him.”

Tyler whistled through his teeth. “You rogue. I had no idea such a devious nature was lurking under that law-abiding exterior.”

Rowell opened the rear door of the Rolls but Tyler shook his head. “I'm not going to sit in the back. Passenger seat for me.”

“Very well, sir.”

He opened the other door and Tyler climbed in.