The Camberwell Raid (27 page)

‘Oh, just for formal enquiries,’ said Inspector Carson. ‘When he left this morning, what did he take with him?’

‘Only ’is suitcase,’ said Mrs Wetherby. ‘Bless us,’ she said, putting a hand to her fluttering bosom, ‘he ain’t a criminal, is he? Only he never said much and always looked as if he ’ad something to hide, like.’

‘What was his job?’ asked the Inspector.

‘I don’t know he ’ad any job,’ said Mrs Wetherby.

‘Didn’t he drive a baker’s van?’

‘Not as I know of,’ said Mrs Wetherby.

‘Wasn’t there one outside sometimes?’

‘Not as I ever saw.’

Inspector Carson glanced at Bill.

‘There was one outside last Monday week,’ said Bill.

‘Not as I noticed,’ said Mrs Wetherby, ‘but of
course
I can’t see what’s in the street when I’m in me kitchen, like I mostly am if I ain’t out shoppin’. ’Ere, just a minute, ain’t I recognizin’ you now, ain’t you our new milkman?’

‘That’s me, Mrs Wetherby,’ said Bill.

‘Well, if you say you saw a baker’s van outside me home sometime last week, I believe yer,’ said the landlady.

‘Why d’you believe him?’ asked Lilian.

‘He’s got an honest look, and doesn’t ’ave eyes like marbles like Mr Barnes did,’ said Mrs Wetherby. ‘Mind, I ain’t sayin’ Mr Barnes wasn’t honest, only that he didn’t say much, and his eyes looked most times as if he ’ad something to hide, like I said before. Of course, if he did ’ave, it wasn’t my business.’

Inspector Carson asked if he could look around the vacated room. Mrs Wetherby said yes, she hadn’t touched it yet. The Inspector and his sergeant carried out an inspection and search, but found nothing. Down in the parlour again, he asked Bill if he’d like to accompany him to Scotland Yard and take a look at photographs of known criminals, with a view to finding out if he recognized Barnes among them. Bill said certainly, and Lilian asked if she could go too. The CID men had no objections.

In the back of the police car on the way to Scotland Yard, Bill said, ‘Nice to have your company, Mrs Hyams, I’m pleasured.’

‘Myself, I’m daft,’ said Lilian, ‘I’ve got a hundred things to do at home.’

‘I’ll drop in tomorrow evening and help you with them,’ said Bill.

‘If you do, you’ll find yourself having to iron my smalls,’ whispered Lilian.

‘No problem, seeing I iron me own,’ said Bill.

Tommy and his family, locked in the attic, had made up their minds that the stony-faced bank robbers were going to make a run for it any moment. The attic was full of family junk, such as old suitcases, an ancient trunk, pieces of rolled-up carpet, and discarded kitchen chairs. They were at least able to sit down, on the trunk and the chairs. An electric bulb ensured they were not without light. Tommy had suggested they all remained quiet for the time being, so that they would be able to hear the sound of the car’s engine firing. When it did, and when the car was on its way, they could then use chairs to smash the door open. Vi said she could hardly wait to hear the sound of the car.

They sat in silence, Tommy thinking the children were bearing up like the King’s troopers. Actually, poor old Kingy wasn’t very well, but his troopers were young and healthy, and would help him celebrate his Silver Jubilee next month. I’ll take the family to see that, thought Tommy, they’ll enjoy a bit of pageantry and flag-waving. Be a lot more lively and healthy than what they’re putting up with now, bless ’em. As for Vi, if I didn’t know before what she was worth to me and the kids, I know now.

Vi thought if this is a nightmare, I’ll be glad when I wake up. Still, there’s one thing I’m sure of, and that’s that I’d have gone off my head if Tommy hadn’t been here. The way he talked to those rotten crooks, calm as you like, which helped to keep the children from panicking. Not even Boots could have been calmer considering I know Tommy was furious underneath. Well, if things don’t get any worse than this, we can
still
enjoy the double wedding on Saturday, and take the children to Brighton on Sunday. That’ll do us all good, a trip to Brighton. Oh, Lord, when’s that car going to start?

I’d like to kick those men, thought David.

I’d like to give mum and dad a kiss, thought Alice.

Paul was simply relieved those men weren’t with them any more.

Outside, at the end of the landing, Ginger Carstairs was using kitchen scissors to cut lengths of cord from the large ball.

‘Better keep that for later,’ said Miller, ‘no point in tying these weak-kneed middle-class cockneys up just yet.’

‘I can’t stand their kind,’ said Carstairs.

‘Nor any kind,’ said Miller.

‘Most people are bloody idiots, the rest are a pain in my elbow,’ said Carstairs. ‘Okay, we’ll truss this family up a few minutes before we go, and before we’ve changed our clothes.’

‘It’ll keep them from informing on us until it’s too late,’ said Miller. ‘I think I’ll have that second Scotch now, I need something that’ll help me keep awake all night.’

‘Whisky won’t help,’ said Carstairs.

‘It’ll help me,’ said Miller.

‘You’re a bloody weakling, then,’ said Carstairs. ‘See if there’s any coffee. Middle class cockneys might drink coffee and kid themselves they’ve got real class.’

Boots had spoken to Mr Finch, who agreed with his suggested plan of action. Boots thereupon phoned the local police, gave his name and address, then advised the sergeant on duty that a friend, one
Freddy
Brown, had located the bank robbers’ van. He detailed where it was, behind the house of his brother Tommy Adams, and that the police could reasonably assume the wanted men were in the house, particularly as two phone conversations with his brother had indicated something out of the ordinary was happening. He recounted the gist of the conversations, including the fact that his brother had said they’d got visitors.

The local police sergeant said a colleague would put a phone call through to Scotland Yard at once, on another line, and Boots heard him urgently instructing the man.

The sergeant then said, ‘Carry on, Mr Adams.’

Boots pointed out there was a way of getting into the house without alerting the wanted men until the police were in. This was to drop down into the cellar through the outside coal-hole, and up the cellar steps to a door adjacent the kitchen. The police would understand it was necessary, however, not to take the risk of rushing into the house without knowing where the wanted men were holding the family. That might cause havoc. Once the police were up the cellar steps and at the door, they should wait for a distraction, that of the phone ringing and being answered. Obviously, the phone would have to be answered, and it would ring until it was. Boots said he’d see to that. His brother would probably be the one who’d be allowed to answer it, but not without one of the wanted men accompanying him, leaving the other to keep an eye on the rest of the family. That would split the swines, and the one with Tommy could be taken first. The policemen waiting at the cellar door would know when to make their entry,
for
they’d be able to hear the phone ringing in the hall and to act the moment it stopped. That would be when Tommy lifted the receiver, and the cellar door wasn’t far from the hall.

‘Are you with me so far, Sergeant?’

‘I’m with you, Mr Adams. But they’re armed, those wanted men. At least, one of them is.’

‘He’ll be the one who accompanies my brother to the phone,’ said Boots. ‘I’d bet on that. I hope it’ll be Tommy who answers. He’s a formidable physical specimen. But there’s a chance it may be his wife, of course.’

‘But who at your house will know when to make the call to your brother’s house, sir?’

‘I’ll arrange that,’ said Boots.

‘Well, you’re a cool one, Mr Adams, I’ll say that.’

‘Believe me, Sergeant, at the moment I’m livid,’ said Boots. ‘I’ll meet your men and the men from Scotland Yard in Denmark Hill, a little way from my brother’s house, and be there in ten minutes or so.’

‘Hold on a bit, Mr Adams.’ The police sergeant went absent from the phone for a few minutes, then returned to say, ‘Chief Inspector Carson of the Yard is on the other line, and wants you to know you’re not to take any action by yourself until he sees you, and then, sir, it’ll all be done by the police.’

‘I’ll still make certain arrangements,’ said Boots.

‘That’s as maybe, Mr Adams. At the same time, don’t think we’re not appreciative of all this information and suggested action. We’ll get men there quick, and they’ll then wait for Chief Inspector Carson and his men. He’ll be leaving the Yard any moment.’

‘Ask him not to hang about,’ said Boots, and put the phone down.

Then he spoke to Rosie, Polly and Mr Finch.

Five minutes later, Polly was all nervous tension. She was even experiencing the kind of apprehension she hadn’t known since the war years, when she and other ambulance drivers knew there was another big push coming.

She was on her way to Tommy’s house in her sports car, Boots beside her. They’d left Cassie and Freddy behind, although Freddy had wanted to come. He still owed those geezers, he said. But Boots said no, he had his wedding to think of. And Cassie had put her foot down, in any case. You’re not going down any coal-hole, she said, or you’ll arrive at the church looking like a chimney sweep, and I’m not making my vows to a chimney sweep. Freddy asked what it was that was holding him back. Me, I’m holding you back, by your trousers, said Cassie, to make sure they stay here, with you inside them.

Mr Finch and Rosie were close to the phone, the phone Boots had used to call up the local police station and to speak his piece. Since then, Scotland Yard had been alerted by the station, two night-duty constables ordered to stand by, and two CID officers contacted in their homes. From the Yard, Inspector Carson was rushing to Denmark Hill. The call had come at a moment when Bill Chambers, looking through a file of photographs, had picked out a man whom he recognized as Barnes, but whose real name was Miller.

Inspector Carson had asked the local police if it was definitely known that the wanted men were in
the
house in question. No, it’s not definite, according to the information given by Mr Adams of Red Post Hill, but it’s almost certain because of the attendant circumstances. Inform your men to do nothing until I get there, said the Inspector, who had also asked for Boots to do nothing off his own bat.

Polly, travelling behind a bus on Denmark Hill, slowed down and pulled up thirty yards from Tommy’s house. She switched off the engine. Street lamps illuminated the hill at intervals, the night traffic desultory. The sky was completely clear of clouds now, the half-moon brilliant. Polly touched Boots’s knee with a gloved hand.

‘Now what do we do, old scout?’ she asked.

‘We wait for the police,’ said Boots.

‘But I’m game to investigate if you are,’ said Polly.

‘Haven’t you heard about fools rushing in, Polly?’

‘I’d rather play the fool with you, old love, than hang back with the angels,’ said Polly. ‘Got a fag?’

Boots produced his packet of Players, Polly helped herself and Boots took one. He struck a match, Polly leaned close and he applied the flame to the tip of her cigarette. Boots lit his own. Polly suggested he wasn’t quite himself.

‘Does it show?’ he asked.

‘Usually when you’re up to something out of the ordinary, you suck your pipe,’ said Polly.

‘Forgot it,’ said Boots.

‘Forgivable on this occasion,’ murmured Polly. ‘It’s Tommy and his family, isn’t it? I’d feel the same in your shoes. I feel the same now. In fact, old darling, I’m bloody pent-up. What a ghastly pair of lousy crooks, if they’re really in Tommy’s house and frightening the life out of
Vi
and the children. The thought’s killing me, and I know it must be killing you. It’s been one damn thing on top of another for you lately.’

‘You’re damned right it has,’ said Boots, but he wasn’t thinking of Major Armitage, he was thinking that not so long ago his stepfather, Edwin Finch, had been held hostage by a couple of pro-Hitler Germans. He and his brothers had pulled Mr Finch out of that situation, without any blood being spilt and without any publicity. It wasn’t going to be so easy to deal with armed bank robbers. Back home, he’d left Emily, Tim, Eloise and Chinese Lady ignorant of present events, having told them he had to go out on behalf of Freddy and Cassie. Emily asked if Polly was still with Rosie. Not now, he’d said. Polly at that particular moment had been waiting for him in her car. Chinese Lady asked him what her husband was doing. Talking to Rosie, he said.

He thought now of Alice, David and Paul, Vi’s cherished trio. He’d have given much to know exactly what was happening to them at this moment, while hoping it was nothing that would scar their young minds. Tommy had been cryptic on the phone, but not desperate, which might have indicated that he and his family were helpless but in no real danger. Real danger, however, might rear its ugly head if the police made a mess of things. Boots had in mind a pistol being pointed at Vi’s head, and a threat of murder being issued unless the police allowed free exit for the two thugs.

‘It’s a swine, Boots, sitting and waiting,’ said Polly.

‘It’s not what I like doing,’ said Boots.

‘I know,’ said Polly. ‘I don’t want to sound flippant, but how about a little loving, would that help? There’s
no-one
about, and even if there were, well, you know me. I’d be the last one to scream for help if your redhot passion made you force yourself on me.’

‘I’d be tempted if—’

‘If you weren’t such a family man,’ said Polly, blowing smoke. ‘I’ve a colleague at school who’s convinced that acceptance of the family as a basis for an orderly society is rhubarb and rubbish. Families suffocate society, she says. She’s one of a large family herself, and assures me that at every reunion it’s a wonder murder doesn’t take place.’

‘I daresay there are times when most family relationships amount to hard going,’ said Boots, ‘but murder’s not my idea of a solution. Too messy, and you can’t undo it.’ He regarded the lights and shadows of the hill.

‘Well, dearly beloved, I’ve wanted to murder you more than once,’ said Polly, ‘but if I did and I couldn’t undo it, I’d shoot myself. Oh, hell, what’s the point, anyway, of trying to get you to seduce me here and now? You’re totally with Tommy and his family, aren’t you? Come to that, old sport, so am I, and I’m gassing on about nothing very much to hide my screaming nerves. Hello, who’s that?’