Gently Where the Roads Go (17 page)

‘It isn’t my department,’ Gently said. ‘I’m a homicide specialist.’

‘It’s wrong to specialize too much,’ she said. ‘You could be extending your general knowledge. I’m a specialist too, in my way, and my subject isn’t quite so morbid.’

He didn’t say anything, sat quite still, listened to the heavy silence of the building; the silence existing outside the moan of the traffic, which sounded subdued. In the room it was very silent. He could hear the quickness of Wanda’s breathing. Her eyes were narrowing as the pause lengthened. At last she moved, making the springs creak.

‘So I’m a specialist,’ she went on. ‘And this is my laboratory, in here. That’s why it’s a bare little room and why it’s a bare little bed. I want to control all the stimuli when I’m engaged in an experiment, I want to know exactly how they tick. I ought to keep bloody records. What are you thinking about?’

‘Hmn,’ Gently said. ‘I was thinking how quiet it was.’

‘It’s always quiet,’ Wanda said. ‘You don’t hear the traffic after a while. You don’t want the radio on, do you?’

‘No,’ Gently said.

‘Thank heaven for that. One of that type is enough, I don’t want to be stuck with another one.’

She leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin rested on her hands, bringing her face to front his, easing forward to the edge of the bed.

‘Are you married?’ she said.

He shook his head.

‘Got a woman?’

He shook it again.

‘You like me,’ she said. ‘You think I’m a nympho, but you like me. And I am a nympho. I admit that. I’ve got the appetite of the devil. I had a man when I was twelve and I was playing around before that. But that’s all. That’s saying it all. That’s just the way I happen to be. I may be a liar into the bargain, but that’s something you can’t help. I’m nothing else, and you know it. And you like me. Though you won’t play.’

‘Where are you going?’ Gently said.

The eyes didn’t smile. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You’re going somewhere,’ Gently said. ‘What’s the end going to be?’

‘Don’t get moral,’ Wanda said. ‘My father was a moralist. I’ve heard too much of it. And he finished up in court over a schoolboy, but he was as moral as they come.’

‘I wasn’t being moral,’ Gently said. ‘A policeman sees too much to be moral. I was being practical. You’re planning to leave here. I was asking what the end was to be.’

She breathed harder, looking at him. He could smell the sharpness of her perspiration.

‘Who says I was planning to leave here?’ Her husky voice had a rougher edge on it. Her eyes were wide, challenging, the pupils enlarged by the dim light.

‘Nobody said it,’ Gently said. ‘It’s merely a logical deduction. When the heat is slackened a little you’ll be off. When you think it’s safe to make a move.’

‘What are you saying?’ she said. ‘I’m free to come and go as I please. I don’t know what the devil you think you’ve got on me, but it isn’t true, whatever it is. You can’t touch me.’

Gently nodded. ‘We can limit your movements.’

‘Like hell you can,’ Wanda said.

‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘and we can cordon this place. That will mean nobody coming in, going out, except we check their credentials, and your phone tapped too. And a tail on you. Think what that’s going to mean.’

‘You bloody bastard,’ Wanda said. ‘You think I’ll lie down under police persecution? I’ll get a lawyer, I’ll talk to the press. I’ll tell them you’ve laid me from here to breakfast.’

‘But what’s the end going to be?’ Gently said. ‘Do you even know the next step? You’re right. I like you. I don’t think you’re dirt. But you’ll be over the edge if you run from here.’

She dragged back from him, pulling on her knees. ‘I go where I like, screw,’ she said. ‘I don’t ask anyone what I do, and I don’t want to hear anyone telling me. I’ve had a lot of that from people, from my father, my husband, divorce court judges – men, the whole bloody bag of them! Filthy bastards. Filthy men. Men who invented bloody morals so they could sneer at women they couldn’t get – that’s the long and the short of morals. Have you ever thought about it, screw?’

Gently shrugged. ‘You could be right—’

‘Too true I’m right,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m not dumb. I don’t just take it. I can see through their dirty tricks. If I believed them I’d hang myself for being outside the pale – some bloody sub-creature who shouldn’t breathe. That’s what I’d do with myself. But it’s a lie. A stinking lie. And I’ll ram it back down their throats. To hear a man talk of morals is enough to make an angel puke.’

‘I’m not talking of morals,’ Gently said.

‘You sounded like it,’ Wanda said. ‘And I’m just warning you not to do it, I’ve had all I can take of that sort of thing. Always I’ve had it, right from the start. From men as randy as old toms. You lock your bedroom door on a man and he begins to be moral. You know’, she said, ‘what I think of men? I think of men as bits of stuff. That’s what, bits of stuff. That’s how men rate with me.’

‘That’s your privilege,’ Gently said.

‘Bits of stuff,’ Wanda said. ‘Here and there a decent one, but the rest, bits of stuff.’

Gently said: ‘And because of that you refuse your dues to society.’

‘What dues,’ Wanda said. ‘Society stinks and you know it. Top to bottom it’s all this.’ She made a grasping gesture with her hand. ‘A fat lot of dues I owe society and its paid thugs, like you.’

‘You have protection from it,’ Gently said. ‘The least you can do is pay it back.’

‘I don’t owe it anything,’ Wanda said. ‘It isn’t me who’s in the red.’

‘A man was killed. You might be killed. His killer is loose. So might be your killer. That isn’t morality, it’s the main chance. You want to stop alive, don’t you?’

‘Why should he kill me?’ Wanda said.

‘Because you know too much,’ Gently said. ‘And you’re very vulnerable although you’re so useful. I don’t think you’re intended to leave this place.’

‘You shut up,’ Wanda hissed. ‘I don’t like that kind of talk.’

‘You’re not intended to leave,’ Gently said, ‘because you’re a liability as well as a threat. One can disappear more easily than two, especially when the other one is a woman. Look at it straight. Society stinks. Why are you hoping to be the exception?’

‘Just button your mouth up, you bloody screw!’

‘Why?’ Gently said. ‘Can somebody hear us?’

‘I told you,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t like that kind of talk. It isn’t so clever, scaring a woman.’

‘You went in with your eyes open,’ Gently said. ‘You don’t have any illusions when it comes to men. So I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, you must be conscious of where you stand.’

She jumped up off the bed. ‘And you,’ she said. ‘Are you never scared? When you know such a bloody sight more than is good for you – aren’t you scared of winding up in a ditch?’

He shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to kill me. I’m part of a large organization. But you’re alone. That’s your boast. You don’t wear society’s clothes.’

‘Get out of here,’ Wanda said. ‘I’m tired of listening to you, screw. You don’t kid me, I’m not playing your game, just take yourself out of my house.’

‘You know where you stand,’ Gently said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know that. And society and the lot can go to hell. And you too. I’m not playing.’

Gently shook his head. ‘You’re not a cynic, you’re a romantic,’ he said. He got up. ‘The second one I’ve had to do with today.’

‘Clever, no doubt,’ Wanda said. ‘Next time remember to bring a warrant.’

‘I hope I’ll need it,’ Gently said. ‘This is a very quiet place.’

She flung out of the bedroom. He stood listening. Only the pad of her bare feet. He went after her. She’d got the door open. He paused on the threshold. She eyed him angrily.

‘Put some clothes on,’ he said. ‘You know I’m not trying to kid you.

‘Play the tune somewhere else,’ she said. ‘This is the way I like to be.’

‘Men don’t always fall on the bed.’

Some are bloody eunuchs,’ she said.

‘Not when the hangman is round the corner.’

‘Go to hell,’ Wanda said. ‘Ponce.’

He went out. She slammed the door. He heard the bolt shot, the brush of her feet. The noise of the traffic was suddenly loud, dulling the sensitivity of his ears. He went slowly to the 105, unlocked it, got in, left the door open. The heat inside made his skin prickle and brought out a fresh lacing of sweat. He sat with one leg out of the door. He took his pipe from the stowage, filled and lit it. The traffic kept rolling by, self-intent, pounding trucks, impatient cars. Few of the drivers looked at The Raven. The Raven stood by itself. Tired timber, rusting red roof, untidy park, derelict pumps. By itself under the sun. A few yards away from the Road’s thunder. The windows blind with faded curtains, the notice on the door saying
CLOSED
. Gently smoked, wiped his face. None of the curtains showed movement. No sound came from the building that could be heard above the traffic. He went on smoking till the tobacco was burned out. Still the silence beside clamour. He knocked out the pipe on his palm, closed the door, pressed the starter.

Going northwards was a Commer truck squarely loaded with wooden crates. The truck was overtaken by two cars, then by the 105, touching the sixties. The sound of the truck vanished behind. About ten seconds later came another sound. It was a persistent rattle which seemed to shake the car and which ended in the shattering of the rear offside-door window. Along with this rattle was a background noise. It sounded like a very fast pneumatic drill. The 105 swerved. There was a thudding patter behind it. Gently went on driving fast, pulled in half a mile down the road. In the driving mirror he saw the Commer following him. It slowed, braked. A man got down.

T
HE MAN CAME
running round to the 105, a hard-framed man with a sunken-cheeked face. He grabbed the door and hauled it open, stared at Gently with white-rimmed eyes.

‘Blimey!’ he said. ‘Are you all right, cock?’

Gently said nothing, got out of the car.

‘You were bloody strafed, cock!’ the man gabbled. ‘Christ, what’s it coming to on this sodding road?’

‘Did you cop any?’ Gently said.

‘Not for want of him trying,’ the man said. ‘He was in the bushes. Up at the lay-by. I was shitting myself, I daren’t stop.’

‘Did you get a look at him?’

‘Not bloody likely. Just the smoke, I could see that.’

‘Get back in your truck,’ Gently said. ‘Drive to Everham phonebox. Inform the Offingham police.’

The man stared, his mouth open. ‘What are you going to do, cock?’ he said.

‘Police,’ Gently said. ‘I’ve got a job here. Get back in your truck and warn Offingham.’

He walked round the car. The nearside panels were perforated in a line that slanted upwards. The line began at the bottom of the front door and wavered uncertainly to the smashed rear door window. At the back of the car was a scattered group of deep dents, but no penetration. None of the tyres had been punctured. Only the one window was broken.

‘Blimey!’ the man said, coming to look. ‘You’re a lucky bastard, you are. If he’d held that frigger straight you wouldn’t be worrying about the bomb.’

‘Go and get that call made,’ Gently said.

‘You’re going after him?’ the man said.

‘Just do what I ask you,’ Gently said.

The man looked at him, frowning. He shook his head. ‘You’re mad,’ he said. ‘But I’m a mad bugger too, I was in the Parachute Regiment. It’ll need a couple of us, I reckon, if we’re going to stand a chance. You lay for him, I’ll draw him. I’ve got a wrench in the truck you can have.’

Gently said: ‘You’ll get in that truck and you’ll drive straight to Everham phonebox. You’ll ring the Offingham police and you’ll tell them that a wanted man is in the vicinity of The Raven roadhouse. Tell them that the message is from Superintendent Gently and that he wants roadblocks and a cordon round the area. Tell them that the man is armed with a Sten gun and that revolvers are to be issued. Have you got all that?’

The man swallowed. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said.

‘Do it directly,’ Gently said. ‘I may be prevented from getting to a telephone. What’s your name?’

‘Sam Ives. I come from Harlow New Town.’

‘On your way,’ Gently said.

Ives went back to the Commer, jumped in.

Gently got in the 105, backed it on the verge, swung it round. He drove slowly towards the lay-by. He watched the traffic coming north. There was a big articulated with other traffic hung behind it. He put on speed. He passed the lay-by almost square with the articulated. He kept accelerating. He didn’t hear anything. He braked by The Raven, cut across to it, parked. He went to the door and wrenched at the handle, drove his foot into it. The door fell open. Wanda came running from the kitchen. She was dressed. She carried a handbag.

‘You!’ Wanda said. Her eyes were fearful. ‘You aren’t hurt – he didn’t hurt you?’

Gently brushed past her. He grabbed the phone, began to spin off a number.

‘You bloody fool,’ Wanda screamed. ‘He’s coming back. He’s going to kill you. Get to hell out of this place, you can’t stop in here.’

‘You can’t stop here either,’ Gently said. ‘Take the car. Drive to Baddesley.’

‘Oh God, oh God,’ she cried. ‘He’s going to kill you, he’s going to kill you.’

‘Take the car,’ Gently said. ‘Police. Superintendent Gently speaking.’

‘Oh God,’ Wanda sobbed. Her stub heels pattered out through the kitchen. The car door slammed, the engine started. The car didn’t pull away.

‘You’ve had a message from Ives,’ Gently said. ‘If you haven’t, this is the message.’

He held the receiver away from his ear, listening, watching, his back to the wall. He spoke softly.

‘Right. You’re getting it. I’m at The Raven. He’s somewhere close. Come straight to The Raven. Put a cordon round it. Take special care to cover the fields. Set up roadblocks at Everham and Huxford to stop all traffic. Send them armed.’

He stopped speaking. The black-and-white kitten had run in from outside. It ran up to Gently, rubbed against his ankle, purred, whisked its tail, stalked away. He hung up the receiver very quietly, began to move along the corridor. He could hear nothing except the 105’s engine filling in the gaps in the traffic.