1950 - Mallory (12 page)

H
ow does it feel to have a noose around your neck?’ Corridon asked, stretching out his legs and looking at Jan with his jeering smile.

‘Don’t move your hands.’ There was a vicious gleam in Jan’s eyes. ‘And you; sit down,’ he went on to Ranleigh.

Ranleigh sat down; he seemed glad to.

‘Talk about bad pennies,’ Corridon went on. ‘I suppose you followed Ranleigh here?’

Jeanne came up behind him.

‘Yes, we followed him,’ she said. ‘Don’t move. I’m taking your gun. If you move Jan will shoot.’

‘Take it by all means. I hoped I’d seen the last of you two,’ Corridon glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘I suppose you know the police are right outside?’

Jeanne slipped her hand inside his coat and pulled out the automatic. She stood away.

‘I know all about the police,’ she said shortly. ‘Don’t try any tricks, Corridon. Nor you, Ranleigh.’

She moved round Corridon, slipping the automatic into the pocket of her trench coat.

‘Keep out of my line of fire,’ Jan said impatiently, ‘Keep to one side, can’t you?’

‘There’ll be no shooting. We have common difficulties now. It is better we work together.’

‘I’m not interested in your difficulties,’ Corridon said. ‘I don’t believe in shooting policemen. That’s very much your funeral. And that popgun looks uncommonly like the weapon that put poor Crew to sleep. I shouldn’t imagine my fingerprints are on it any longer. At a guess I’d say that lets me out.’

Jeanne pulled out a midday newspaper from her pocket and tossed into his lap.

‘Guess again,’ she said with a bitter little sneer. ‘They’ve found Rita Allen and are looking for you. They have even printed your name. You are in as much trouble as we are, my friend; more so. They know you, but they don’t know us.’

Corridon glanced at the front page of the paper and grimaced.

‘Taxi drivers are one of the biggest menaces to criminals,’ he said. ‘I thought that chap would pull the plug out before long. And they call me dangerous. Well, well, someone has worked himself into a nice state of nerves.’ He tossed the paper on to the floor. His eyes were hard and his smile without humour. ‘Do I look dangerous?’ He lit a cigarette, stared at Jeanne blankly, then went on, ‘I wonder how long this has been on the streets. Not more than an hour I should think.’

‘Why do you ask? Have you been seen here?’ she asked sharply.

‘Certainly. I’ve talked to two policemen and one of the neighbours. They were searching for Comrade Ranleigh. Didn’t you see them? When they read this description of me they will be back, and in force.’

‘What description?’ Ranleigh asked hoarsely. They were the first words he had uttered since Jeanne had burst in on them.

Corridon picked up the newspaper and tossed it over to him.

‘Here you are. You’re not the only fugitive around here.’ He looked at Jeanne. Well, it’s no good staying here. We’d better be off.’

She made an impatient movement.

‘The police are watching every street in the district. We can’t possibly go in daylight.’

‘If we don’t go now we’ll be caught like rats in a trap,’ Ranleigh said after a quick glance at the newspaper.

‘I was waiting for someone to use that cliché,’ Corridon said and laughed. ‘I object to being called a rat.’

Ranleigh stared at him wildly.

‘We must go! We can’t stay here. They’ll be back.’

‘Don’t let’s get excited. The police and this chap Holroyd have seen me here. All right, the thing to do is to move into Holroyd’s studio until tonight. If the police come here they’ll find the place empty and think - let’s hope - I’ve got through the cordon. If they search the studios I’m sure Jan can persuade Holroyd to bluff them.’

‘Who is Holroyd?’ Jeanne asked.

‘One of the good neighbours. He lives across the way.’

‘Where’s Mallory’s sister?’

Corridon studied her thoughtfully.

‘It’s remarkable how you keep abreast with the latest information. How did you know about her?’

She regarded him with an odd expression on her white, drawn face. He eyes glittered.

‘Don’t waste time! Where is she?’

‘Tied up on the bed in her bedroom.’

‘She has seen you?’ she asked, turning to Ranleigh.

‘Yes.’

‘Then she can’t be left here.’

Corridon knew she was right, but he was reluctant to agree.

‘I suppose we’ll have to move her to Holroyd’s place,’ he said. ‘It complicates things—’

‘Look, there’s Holroyd,’ Ranleigh broke in, pointing out of the window. ‘He’s looking this way.’

Through the fine net curtain that covered the window they could see Holroyd standing in the back doorway of the studio immediately opposite No. 2a. He was watching the bungalow, an intent curious expression on his pale, flabby face.

‘I’ll handle him,’ Jeanne said briskly. ‘Get the Mallory woman and come after me. Bring everything with you.’ She left the studio, opened the front door and walked quickly down the path towards Holroyd.

Corridon didn’t wait to see what happened. He went into Ann’s bedroom. She was lying on the bed, and by the disordered coverlet he guessed she had been trying to free herself.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with alarm.

‘Things are happening,’ he said curtly as he bent over her. ‘I can’t free you yet. The whole gang’s arrived. Jeanne Persigny and the Pole, Jan. We’re going over to Holroyd’s bungalow as the police may come here. Don’t make a fuss.’ He untied her ankles and pulled her to her feet.

Ranleigh appeared in the doorway.

‘Come on,’ he said sharply. ‘She’s in there now.’

‘Bring my hat and coat,’ Corridon said, ‘and don’t forget my rucksack.’ He caught hold of Ann’s arm. ‘Don’t be frightened. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

But this time he didn’t reassure her and she jerked away.

‘Now look,’ Corridon said patiently, ‘be sensible…’

Jan pushed Ranleigh aside and came in.

‘You’re wasting time,’ he said furiously. ‘You were told to bring her. Well, bring her, and hurry.’ He waved his pistol at Ann who stood petrified at the sight of him.

‘Come on, kid,’ Corridon said. ‘You’ll be all right if you don’t make a fuss.’

Jan was staring at her.

‘Take that gag out,’ he ordered. ‘She may be seen. If she screams I’ll shoot. Put a coat over her shoulders.’ He moved close to Ann as Corridon went to the wardrobe in search of a coat. His oyster-coloured eyes were cold and deadly. ‘If you try any tricks I will kill you. It would mean nothing to me to kill the sister of a traitor.’

Corridon stepped between them, shouldering Jan aside. He removed the gag, and draped the coat over her shoulders, concealing her bound wrists.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘Come on.’

‘Go on, get out,’ Jan snarled to Ranleigh, who went first.

Corridon and Anne followed him.

H
olroyd’s studio was untidy and dirty, and crowded with de-pressing little watercolour paintings of Cheyne Walk and the Thames Embankment. There must have been over a hundred of them, Corridon thought as he sat in a dusty, shabby armchair before the big combustion stove that still contained the ashes of the last fire of the winter; uninspired efforts of an untalented brush, doomed to hang on those walls for a lifetime.

Jeanne sat on the arm of another shabby chair facing Corridon, her strong brown hands gripping her knee. There was a brooding, sullen expression on her face, and her eyes moved restlessly, continually shifting from Corridon to the curtained window.

They could hear Ranleigh moving about the tiny kitchen, preparing a hurried, makeshift meal. The smell of frying bacon reminded Corridon that he was hungry.

In the bedroom, leading off the studio, behind the closed door, Jan reluctantly guarded Ann and Holroyd.

When Corridon had brought Ann into Holroyd’s studio, they had come face to face with Jeanne. For a moment the two girls had looked at each other. Jeanne had turned grey, and into her eyes had come an expression of vindictive hatred, and Corridon had hurried Ann past her into the bedroom.

Even now Jeanne hadn’t recovered her usual bitter calm, and watching her, Corridon felt uneasy, knowing that Ann must not be left alone with her; sure that so great was her hatred of Mallory she would not be able to control that hatred in the presence of his sister.

Jeanne said suddenly as if she sensed he was thinking about Ann, ‘You’d better talk to her. Find out where this island is. We’ll have to take her with us.’

Corridon had already decided that too was inevitable and it worried him. But there was no alternative. If Ann was to tell them where the island was to be found, she couldn’t be left to give away their proposed hiding place to the first detective to question her.

‘I suppose so,’ he said, and took out a crumpled packet of cigarettes and tossed her one. ‘How about this chap Holroyd? What are we going to do with him?’

‘Leave him here. He knows nothing about us. Besides it’s essential someone should know we have taken the Mallory woman. Mallory will hear and come after her. I intend to use her to bait the trap we shall prepare for him.’

‘What makes you so sure he will come after her?’

‘I think he will,’ she said softly and the brown hands clenched.

‘Well, we have a lot to do before that. We have to find the island. It’ll be a long journey, and it won’t be easy going. Every policeman in the country will be on the lookout for us.’

‘Do you think that worries me? We avoided the Gestapo; we will avoid the English police.’

‘She thinks her brother’s dead. The Air Ministry informed her he was shot while escaping from the Gestapo. You are sure this fellow’s alive? There couldn’t be a mistake, could there?’

‘Are you suggesting his ghost killed Harris and Lubish and pushed Rita Allen downstairs?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘It would suit him to be thought dead until he got rid of us, then he could miraculously come to life again.’

Corridon shrugged.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I suppose it would. Well, I’d better have a word with her. The first thing is to find this island.’ As he got to his feet, he went on ‘And while we’re on the subject of Mallory let me remind you you’ll have to change your ideas. If we ever catch him he’s to be handed over to the police. Do you understand that? He’s wanted for murder now and he’s going, to clear me of Rita’s death. He’ll hang. You’ll get your revenge but neither you nor Jan can touch him. He’s my baby now. Do you understand?’

She gave him a cold sneering smile.

‘We haven’t caught him yet. We may never catch him. Let us wait and see.’

Corridon knew by her manner that he couldn’t rely on her.

They intended to kill Mallory if they caught him. That was obvious. They didn’t care what happened to Corridon. He would have to forestall them. He must be the one to capture Mallory and when he caught him he’d have to keep him away from these two until he turned him over to the police. It would be a tricky operation.

He went into the bedroom without attempting further argument. There would be time for that later. Ann and Holroyd were sitting on upright chairs their hands bound behind them, Jan was lying on the bed, smoking, the Mauser by his side. He looked up and stared at Corridon, a baleful expression in his eyes.

‘Take Holroyd out of here and get out yourself,’ Corridon said curdy.

Jan slid off the bed.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’m going to talk to her,’ Corridon said and nodded at Ann.

‘Come, you,’ Jan said to Holroyd, pointing the pistol at him.

Holroyd’s face was the colour of tallow. When he stood up, his legs were so shaky he staggered and would have fallen had not Corridon caught hold of him and steadied him.

‘Bear up,’ Corridon said. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you. In a few hours we’ll be gone. Then think how you’ll be able to talk. You’ll be the local hero.’

He pushed
the trembling man to the door.

Y
ou’ll be more comfortable with that off,’ Corridon said as he undid the belt that bound Ann’s wrists. ‘It’s about time we had a talk, isn’t it?’

She rubbed her wrists, restoring her circulation, but didn’t say anything.

‘I want you to get this straight,’ he went on, a little disconcerted by her steady, calm gaze. ‘The Pole is a killer. Make no mistake about that. The girl is neurotic; probably a little cracked. Ranleigh is harmless enough, but weak and scared of the other two. The three of them are wanted for murder. Jan thinks nothing of murder. He’s shot two policemen, and a chap called Crew who happened to get in his way. If Jan thought either of us were going to be troublesome he’d wipe us out too. I’m telling you because I want to impress on you how dangerous it would be for you to try to get away.’

‘If this is true,’ Ann said, ‘how is it you’re with them?’

‘I told you Jan shot this chap Crew. I happened to be with Crew a few minutes before he was shot. I was seen leaving his place. The police assume I did the shooting. I won’t waste time going into details, but if I’m caught I’d have difficulty in beating the rap. I might not beat it. That’s why I’m with them. I’m hoping to prove it was Jan and not I who shot Crew.’

She looked distrustfully at him as she continued to massage her wrists.

‘I don’t understand any of it, let alone believe it. It’s all fantastic. How can I believe anything you say?’

‘Wait here,’ Corridon said. ‘Don’t try to get away.’ He went into the studio where Jeanne and Jan were whispering together, watched by the terrified Holroyd. Corrigan ignored them. He searched amongst a pile of old newspapers that lay in an untidy heap on a table, selected one and returned to the bedroom.

‘Here, read for yourself,’ he said, handing her the paper. ‘That’s the account of Crew’s murder. You’ll see they have my description.’

She looked hurriedly through the account and then put the paper down. She wasn’t so calm now, he noticed.

‘But how do I know you didn’t kill him?’ she asked.

‘I’m not asking you to believe it. To be frank I don’t care two hoots if you do think I killed him. All I’m concerned about is the police shouldn’t think so.’

‘I see,’ she said flushing. Then she asked abruptly, ‘And what has my brother to do with all this?’

‘I don’t think I said he had anything to do with it, did I?’

‘Then why did you come to me? Why did you ask so many questions about him? I don’t believe you’re a friend of his. And why did that man call him a traitor? What did he mean?’

‘Your brother is dead. Leave him out of it.’

‘Do they think he’s dead?’ she asked sharply.

‘No; but that’s neither here nor there.’

‘And you don’t either; nor does Rita Allen.’ She was breathing quickly, and there was a frightened expression in her eyes.

‘Isn’t he dead? Is that it? Is that why they’re here? Has he done something to them? Are they after him? Please tell me. Is he alive?’

‘They think so,’ Corridon said guardedly.

‘And they are no longer his friends?’

‘Well, no.’

‘Why? I must know if my brother’s alive. Please tell me that.’

‘You know as much as I do. You say the Air Ministry informed you he was dead. They out there think he’s alive and hiding from them. That’s all I can tell you. They think if they take you along with them your brother will come after you. In that way they hope to trap—’ He broke off and snapped his fingers in irritation. ‘I’m talking too much.’

‘Please tell me the rest of it,’ she said quietly. ‘There can’t be much more, can there?’

‘Well, all right. You’ll have to know sooner or later. I warn you it’s not a pretty tale, but I don’t think you’ll believe it anyway. This is what they told me. Three of them, Jeanne, your brother and Ranleigh were captured by the Gestapo. They weren’t important, but their leader, Gourville, was. Jeanne and Ranleigh were tortured, but they wouldn’t give Gourville’s hiding place away. Your brother volunteered the information before he was even touched. Gourville was captured and killed. These three are here to avenge Gourville’s death. That’s why they are looking for your brother.’

Ann sat down abruptly, white-faced, her eyes bright with furious, unshed tears.

‘Oh no! It’s a lie!’ she cried passionately. ‘A beastly, horrible lie! Brian would never have done such a thing. He would never have betrayed anyone. How dare they say such a thing?’

Corridon lit a cigarette and placed the match in an ashtray with exaggerated care. He didn’t look at her.

‘I’m telling you what I was told. They were there. Why should they lie? What’s the sense in all this elaborate preparation and murder if he didn’t betray Gourville?’

‘I tell you it’s a lie! Brian would never have betrayed a friend, and Gourville was his friend. I won’t believe it!’

‘No one’s asking you to believe it,’ Corridon said dryly.

‘They believe it, and that’s enough for them.’

‘You think he did it too, don’t you?’

‘It’s nothing to do with me what he did.’

‘But you do! And you’ve never met him.’

He realized this was true. He had never questioned Ranleigh’s story, and even now, seeing her pain and anger, he wasn’t influenced. He still believed Ranleigh’s story.

‘Well, it seems likely. He had every excuse. They knocked out Ranleigh’s eye and smashed his arm. They gave Jeanne a special kind of hell reserved for women. Sooner or later one of them would have cracked. He said as much when it was over. He avoided being maimed. I can’t say I blame him.’

‘Don’t you? Well, I would!’ She clenched her fists and he thought she was going to hit him. ‘If he betrayed his friend I wouldn’t care what happened to him. But I know he didn’t.’ She turned away, struggling with her tears. ‘He wouldn’t do such a thing.’

‘All right,’ Corridon said indifferently. ‘It doesn’t help one way or another. I shouldn’t have told you this. I didn’t mean to.’

She swung round. ‘Is Brian alive?’

‘Yes. He’s alive all right. There’s no doubt about that.’

‘Oh!’ She sat weakly on the bed.

Corridon moved over to the window and stared at the opposite bungalow. There was a long silence.

‘Is he in danger?’ she asked at last.

‘I don’t know,’ Corridon said without turning. ‘If they corner him they’ll shoot him, but from what they tell me he can more than look after himself.’

There was another silence, then she said, ‘What are they going to do with me?’

Corridon turned.

‘Your brother has a place near Dunbar, hasn’t he?’

She looked up, startled.

‘Why, yes. How did you know about that?’

‘It’s an island, isn’t it? Do you know where it is?’

‘Of course. It belongs to me now. Why do you ask?’

‘That’s where we are going. You’re coming with us.’

‘And you think Brian’s there?’

‘I don’t know, but they think he’ll come after you.’

Her eyes lit up.

‘He will if he knows I’m there.’

Her faith in her brother irritated Corridon.

‘He may not. You haven’t seen him for years.’

‘He’ll come. He’s very possessive.’ She sat thinking. Corridon watched her. He came to the conclusion that she was extraordinarily attractive. This conclusion surprised him.

‘You asked a little while ago whether I was going to take sides.’ she said suddenly. ‘I’m going to ask you that now. Are you on their side or mine?’

He wasn’t expecting this and looked blankly at her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You asked me to trust you. Why did you ask that?’

‘Well, I suppose I was sorry for you,’ Corridon said, feeling awkward. ‘I wanted to help you. I felt it was my fault you’ve been mixed up with these two.’

‘Well, it is. Are you still prepared to help me?’

‘Of course,’ he said a little curtly. ‘I’ll see no harm comes to you.’

‘You’ve told me you’re only with them because you want to clear yourself of a murder charge. That must mean you are against them. So am I. Wouldn’t it be sensible for us to join forces?’

‘I suppose it would,’ he returned and smiled. ‘You’re no fool, are you?’

‘And you’ll find Brian isn’t either. If he’s alive and in trouble I am going to help him. I want you to help him too. You have nothing against him, have you?’

Corridon hesitated, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that Mallory was a murderer.

‘I’ll do my best to see they don’t shoot him,’ he hedged.

‘He didn’t betray Gourville,’ she went on in a quiet, steady voice. ‘I know you don’t believe it, but he didn’t. If you meet him on Hermit Island you’ll know he didn’t.’

‘Is that what it’s called?’

‘Yes. It’s about twelve miles off Bass Rock, between Bass Rock and Dunbar.’

‘Could you take us there?’

She nodded.

‘And will you?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said without hesitation.

He studied her pale, determined face, puzzled.

‘Why?’

‘I want him to meet those three on his home ground. You have no idea how dangerous the island is to those who don’t know every step of the ground. It’s full of hiding places. Fogs come unexpectedly. It is lonely, and its rocks are sharp and there is quicksand. Brian and I know it well,’ her eyes sparkled. ‘They don’t. Oh, yes, I’ll take them there, but they’ll be sorry, I promise you that.’