Inspector West Takes Charge (17 page)

Mark straightened up, dazed. The handle of his stick, with its silver top, remained in his hand. His wrist was painful where it had been jarred when the stick had caught.

George came rushing out of Potter’s office.

Mark stared at him, less dazedly, as George said in a hoarse voice: ‘Are you all right? That damned lift ...’

Mark pushed past him, reaching Potter’s outer office and ignoring the typists and the girl at the switchboard. He saw her push in a plug, but before she could call Potter he had pushed open the door of the inner office. Potter looked up from his desk, and for the first time Mark saw fear on the man’s drab face.

Potter pushed his chair back.

‘Lessing! What are you –?’

Mark said nothing. His face was livid, his eyes were burning. He took two steps forward, gripped Potter’s shoulder, and pulled him nearer. He bunched his right hand and drove it on to Potter’s chin. He heard the
crack from
the blow, and saw Potter’s eyes roll. The man would have fallen had Mark not continued to hold him.

From the door, a girl screamed.

Mark let Potter go. The man crumpled up, and sprawled over his desk. Mark turned. The girl jumped to one side. George was entering the outer office, but at sight of Mark’s expression he stood still. Mark passed him blindly, then went out, down the stairs and into the coolness of the street.

It was a welcome coolness. He breathed deeply. He looked at his watch, cursed the fact that he could not buy a drink, but went into the nearest café for some tea.

He felt very much better twenty minutes later, and took a taxi to the Yard.

‘What’s made you so mad?’ Roger asked him.

Mark told him everything.

‘D’you think Potter would have stopped the lift trick if you’d come to terms?’ Roger asked.

‘Probably,’ said Mark. ‘I think he meant what he said. But why the hell pull that one so soon afterwards? What do I know, Roger? Damn it, even Potter wouldn’t rig that booby-trap for me unless it realty mattered. I’ve stumbled on something, heaven knows what.’

Roger drew at his cigarette.

‘So Garielle Transom and David Anderson visited Potter yesterday morning. They weren’t together, were they?’

‘Pep didn’t say so. He would have done.’

‘Yes. What do you think we should do next?’

‘The same as you, I hope.’

‘Harrington,’ murmured Roger. ‘Another, much more positive interview with Bill Harrington. It’s time he stopped being so secretive. I had another idea after we split up,’ he added, ‘and got Sloane busy again with the Ministry of Supply. Harrington’s factory is controlled by them, and I want to know what he’s doing. I told Sloane to ring me at Harrington’s flat at half-past five, if I hadn’t countermanded the order. Just in case of accidents I’ve asked Lampard of Guildford to keep an eye on Harrington’s place.’

‘Odd thing,’ said Mark. ‘I asked Pep Morgan to do the same thing. Any objection if I come?’

‘We can do this together. It’s going to be strictly legal, but you’ll add the touch of informality Harrison may like. Oh, while I remember –’ he opened his wallet and extracted some pink petrol coupons. ‘There’s twelve gallons, but go easy with them. I had to perjure myself to get ‘em.’

‘Heartfelt thanks,’ said Mark. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go in my car.’

‘Mine’s nearer,’ said Roger.

He drove at speed to Kingston, explaining that he had learned about Harrington’s prowess with a rifle, and the shooting ability of the
Dreem
directors. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long, or go to the factory.

He need not have worried, for Harrington opened the door. He was wearing a blue dressing-gown over his shirt and trousers. His welcome was not enthusiastic.

‘You again?’ he said. ‘And both together. You’ll have to be careful.’

Roger said: ‘When are you going to stop being bloody minded?’ He stepped into the box of a hall, and was led into the lounge-cum-dining-room. Harrington eyed him warily, and said: ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘That’s better than trying to dodge me. Where were you last night?’

‘At my factory. Didn’t
he
tell you?”

‘What time did you go there?’

‘About half-past ten.’

‘Did you stay in the factory all night?’

‘I was there until after seven this morning.’

‘Can you give me the names of any people who saw you?’

‘Twenty or thirty, if you’ll come over to the factory with me.’ Harrington began to fill his pipe. ‘I didn’t shoot Anderson, if that’s what you’re driving at. I’ve often felt like it, but I didn’t.’

‘I hope not,’ said Roger grimly. ‘Did you know that Anderson was acquainted with Potter?’

Harrington stopped work on the pipe.

‘I certainly did not.’

‘How long have you known Potter?’

‘I’ve told you, and I’m not wasting my time going over it again.’

‘You’d never met him before?’

‘No.’

‘He’s never approached you on any matter except that which you have told me about?’

‘The grammar’s bad but the context is right,’ said Harrington. ‘No, he hasn’t’

‘Does the same apply to Mrs Prendergast?’

‘It does.’

‘Claude Prendergast?’

‘Yes,’ said Harrington and turned away to get some matches from the mantelpiece.

‘Had you ever known the other Prendergasts?’

‘They weren’t people I wanted to know.’

‘That’s not answering the question,’ Roger snapped. ‘Harrington, I’m going to have the whole truth from you. If you won’t give it me here, we’ll go to the Yard and get it from you there. Had you ever known the Prendergasts?’

Harrington eyed the bowl of his pipe, then looked at Roger squarely, and said: ‘Yes.’

‘What were the circumstances?’

Harrington drew a deep breath.

‘I knew they were wealthy, and was foolish enough to think they would be interested in financing a small venture. I wanted their backing; I had something which I believed would one day make a fortune. In spite of their moral obligations, they refused,’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did anyone else know of the proposition?’

Harrington hesitated. He looked massive and tough, but Mark had an idea that he was relieved by the trend of the questions.

‘Yes, they did,’ he said at last ‘All the
Dreem
directors knew of it. That -’ he paused ‘was how I met Miss Transom. There was an informal meeting of the
Dreem
company board, and she had driven her father over from Yew House. That was just after the outbreak of war,’ Harrington went on, ‘and I had newly arrived in England. I felt sore about being turned down, and approached Transom privately. He also turned me down, and we had a few words he can be a rude devil. I was feeling very raw. If you’d like the more intimate details,’ Harrington went on, ‘Garielle later had a row with her family about it. That’s why she joined the WAAF when she did. The primary cause of her row,’ Harrington went on, ‘was that she continued to see me, although her father “forbade” it. When Potter got in touch with me, I thought it might be because the firm had changed its mind, and wanted to put money into my business. Believe me, I longed for them to make the offer, so that I could turn it down. I’ve been wanting a chance to do that ever since the first negotiations.’

‘So you’ve got enough financial backing now?’ asked Roger.

‘Doesn’t it look like it?’

‘Who financed you?’

‘I don’t see that it affects the case,’ said Harrington. ‘I was asked not to disclose his name.’

Roger said grimly: ‘He didn’t expect the police to be interested.’

‘I’ll pass him your question,’ Harrington said easily.

It was then, just when they appeared to be at an
impasse,
that the telephone rang. It was just within Harrington’s reach, and he stretched forward, lifted the receiver, and then said in obvious surprise: ‘Yes, hold on.’ He looked up at Roger. ‘It’s for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Roger took the receiver and heard the flat voice of Sergeant Sloane.

‘Reporting as requested, sir,’ said Sloane. ‘I’ve been able to check on all the matters you left with me. The gentleman was at his factory from ten o’clock last night until seven o’clock this morning. He was observed by at least twenty people all the time, as he worked on a machine which had broken down and held up production for one of the departments.’

‘Good,’ said Roger.

‘The Company in question is concerned with the manufacturing of rubber parts for aero-engines, tanks, and naval craft,’ went on Sloane, as if reading from his report. ‘Its Research Department, called the Development Department, is engaged on exploratory work in connection with synthetic rubber. The Ministry of Supply particularly requests that no hint of this is given to the Press, sir.’

‘Oh,’ said Roger. ‘I get it. Anything else?’

‘Not at the moment, sir.’

‘Thanks.’ Roger rang off. Staring at Harrington, he was faced for the first time with the fact that Harrington was probably one of the few men in the country fully equipped for investigating the processes for the manufacture of synthetic rubber. It was a development vital to the national interest at a time when the natural rubber sources in Malaya and much of the Dutch East Indies were in the hands of the Japanese. And it was just as important to the future economic soundness of the nation.

Roger sat down again, glanced at Mark and back at Harrington before saying heavily: ‘Have you any specific objection to Mr Lessing knowing what you’re working on? I’ve just had a confidential report, but I’m prepared to tell him.’

‘It makes no odds to me,’ Harrington said. ‘That’s your pigeon. So you’ve got it as quickly as that,’ he added ruminatively. ‘I suppose it was inevitable. I’m working on synthetic rubber, the first to-be simple and cheap to manufacture, I’ve had special machinery installed at Dean Park. Anderson was one of the few men who really knew what he was doing in the experimental stage. My company,’ went on Harrington with deep satisfaction, ‘is going to expand tenfold. I’ve a big new factory almost ready, and it will be large enough to cope with twenty-five per cent of British rubber requirements once it’s in operation. I’m out of the experimental stage.’

Mark broke his silence.

‘We see a genius before us,’ he said solemnly.

‘This isn’t funny,’ said Harrington. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time in the Far East, and if you’d seen the slow way we get rubber and smoke it, you’d know that with increasing consumption we need new and revolutionary sources of supply. I started off trying to find a better way of curing crude rubber, and then went on to one development after another. Once the war started, it was all Singapore to an onion that there would be trouble with the Japs, and that they’d go straight for the rubber and the oil. I came here and set to work on a synthetic product. That’s all there is to it. Naturally I haven’t wanted the fact known too widely. Nor has the Ministry of Supply.’

‘Did all the
Dreem
people know of this?’ Roger asked.

‘They knew I was making synthetic rubber. I don’t think they knew anything else. Why?’

‘He means,’ said Mark, ‘that we’ve been searching for a motive for the murder of the Prendergasts. We’d concentrated on
Dreem
cigarettes and the Company. It could be nothing to do with
Dreem,
but only with you. What’s the estimated value of your process?’

Harrington gave a bark of a laugh.

‘I couldn’t give a value. When it’s fully exploited it will make the
Dreem
company look small. It’s outsize. You don’t need me to tell you that. And it’s simple enough, while there’s nothing very difficult about raw materials. It’s partly from coal, partly from certain ores and oils.’

‘And Anderson knew the process?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘When you said last night that “it couldn’t be anything like that”,’ said Mark, ‘you meant that it had occurred to you that Anderson might have been selling the secret process?’

‘I did. It would be foul if he had.’

Roger put in: ‘Anderson might have sold out to Potter, and been double-crossed. That could explain why he had a go at Gabby, and why he was killed. All roads lead to Potter. I’ll find what they’ve been doing between ‘em,’ he added. ‘May I use your phone?’ He was soon connected with Sloane. ‘About the dead man Anderson,’ he said quickly.’ Concentrate on his association with Gabriel Potter, will you?
Get
a full story as quickly as you can.’

‘Right you are, sir.’

Roger replaced the receiver.

‘Just for the record, Mr Harrington, I would like to see your passport, and the other documents of identification.’ He did not smile, but his eyes were amused. ‘Mrs Claude Prendergast apart, I need to see them.’

‘Please yourself,’ said Harrington. ‘They’re in my bureau. I’ve a box-room I use as a study-cum-lab. Would you like to see me take them out of the drawer?’

‘We’ll trust you,’ said Roger amiably.

Harrington nodded. He went out. Quite suddenly Mark got up, opened the piano, and began to play very gently.

He conjured magic out of the keys, yet Roger felt irritated; he did not want music or anything else to interfere with his thoughts, already varied enough, but he found himself listening against his will. He did not notice Harrington return and stand in the doorway, watching Mark. It was an odd interlude, made more unreal when Mark stopped and swung about on the stool.

‘Forgive the liberty,’ he said.

Roger turned to look at Harrington, and as he did so, saw a shadowy movement at one side of the man. He shouted: ‘Look out!’ and leapt forward.

Harrington swung round.

Now Roger saw the shadow materialize into a man’s hand and arm. The man held a length of iron bar. It rose and fell, catching Harrington on the side of the head. Harrington fell sideways.

Roger rushed forward. The man who entered came at a run, taking a flying kick at his hand. Roger snatched his hand away.

Mark, just behind him, drew in a sharp breath.

Behind the first man was a second, smaller one, He held a gun, and covered both Mark and Roger. Roger had a quick vision of flame, a stab of imaginary pain, as if a bullet had entered his chest.