The Camberwell Raid (28 page)

A couple, walking up the hill, emerged from shadow into lamplight. Arm in arm, they strolled past Tommy’s house, came up with the parked car and gave its occupants an intrigued glance.

‘Waiting for Christmas?’ said the young man.

‘No, we’ve had Christmas,’ said Boots.

‘It’s Easter we’re after now,’ said Polly.

‘Easter’s nice for weddings,’ said the young lady, and the couple went on.

Polly’s hand touched Boots’s thigh and gently pressed.

‘I’d like a wedding, old love, if you’d like a divorce,’ she said.

‘Can you make do with a chocolate Easter egg?’ said Boots.

‘Yes, if you’ll bring it in person at bedtime,’ said Polly. ‘Don’t knock. Come in through the back door.’

A police car, travelling down the hill, pulled up behind them. A plainclothes man alighted and came up. He spoke quietly to Boots.

‘You Mr Adams, sir, of Red Post Hill?’

‘Yes,’ said Boots.

‘I’m Detective-Sergeant Halliday, sir. There’s a colleague of mine somewhere around, watching the house, and I’ve got two uniformed men in the car. We’re to wait, along with you, for Inspector Carson of the Yard. Who’s the lady, sir?’

‘A friend of mine,’ said Boots.

‘I don’t think Inspector Carson will go for having a lady around, Mr Adams.’

‘I’m not that kind of a lady,’ said Polly. ‘I’m made of stern and grim stuff.’

‘Miss Simms will play her part,’ said Boots. ‘You know the house?’

‘Yes, “The Manor”, sir,’ said the CID man. ‘Just down there.’

‘We haven’t seen your colleague,’ said Boots.

‘Well, that’s good, he’s got orders not to be seen. Not much traffic about, or people, that’s good too. We don’t want the operation turned into a circus. Hello, I think this could be the Yard car.’

A car, headlamps off, side lights on, was travelling at speed up the hill. With nothing coming the other
way
, it crossed the road, the driver switching off the engine to coast a few yards in neutral until the car stopped with its bonnet six feet from Polly’s spirited roadster. Two men got out, one tall and burly, the other as lean as a whippet. They closed the car doors with the merest click of sound.

‘Chief Inspector Carson?’ said Detective-Sergeant Halliday.

‘Yes, and this is Detective-Constable Fellowes. You’re—?’

‘Detective-Sergeant Halliday, sir.’

The Inspector conducted a quiet conversation with him, which helped to formulate an accurate picture of the circumstances and the situation. Boots was introduced as the man who had laid certain information with the police station, and who would show the Inspector how to get into the house. The Inspector said he understood it was by way of the coal cellar.

‘It’s the only way without breaking doors,’ said Boots.

‘Well, I’m damned if I could squeeze myself down through the hole,’ said the Inspector, ‘but Detective-Constable Fellowes can, and so, I hope, can your men, Sergeant.’

‘They’re stripped, sir, to their shirts and trousers.’

‘Who’s the woman?’ asked the Inspector abruptly.

‘The owner of this car,’ said Boots, ‘and she’ll use it to get back to my home at speed.’

‘H’m,’ said the Inspector.

‘I’m a hundred per cent reliable,’ said Polly, showing no evidence of strung nerves.

‘It might’ve been advisable for you to have taken on that responsibility, Mr Adams,’ said the Inspector.

‘It might, yes,’ said Boots, ‘except it’s my brother’s house and I intend to be around when your men go in.’

‘I see,’ said the Inspector. ‘Very well. The place is under surveillance, Sergeant?’

‘It is,’ said Sergeant Halliday.

‘And there’s been no movement, as far as you know, no signs that the wanted men are there?’

‘None, sir. We’ve had no signals from our man.’

‘I hope we’re not going to make fools of ourselves,’ said the Inspector. ‘Mr Adams, what exactly did your brother say over the phone?’

‘That I wasn’t to come over, that he’d got visitors,’ said Boots.

‘And you weren’t due to go over, anyway?’

‘No,’ said Boots. ‘That, and the fact that the van’s parked at the back of the house, according to the young lad I mentioned, made up my mind for me.’

‘Well, it’s made up my mind too,’ said the Inspector. ‘Right, let’s start moving. Sergeant, get your men out.’

A few moments later, the two constables were out of the local police car, and two others had emerged from the back of the Yard car. The responsibility of the latter men was to divert the attention or curiosity of any passers-by. There was a lack of people out-of-doors at this time of night, but always a possibility that some would appear.

‘Ready, sir,’ said Detective-Sergeant Halliday, his uniformed men in shirts and trousers, helmets off.

‘Mr Adams, would you care to lead the way?’ asked the Inspector, bowler-hatted.

A gloved hand touched Boots’s arm as he moved out of the passenger seat of Polly’s car. A whisper followed.

‘Take care, darling.’

‘Don’t you think it was a bit ungrateful, Scotland Yard leaving us to come home on a bus?’ said Lilian, as she and Bill arrived at the door of her house.

‘It looked like there was a sudden emergency,’ said Bill. ‘Well, you’re back safe and sound, anyway, so I’ll push off.’

‘My life,’ said Lilian, ‘are you going to be ungrateful too?’

‘In what way, might I ask, Mrs Hyams?’

‘By pushing off and leaving me alone,’ said Lilian, opening her front door.

‘Well, as it’s late and you’ve got your reputation to think about—’

‘I didn’t know I had a reputation,’ said Lilian, ‘but if I have, it can look after itself. Well, don’t just stand there, come on in and I’ll make us a pot of tea.’

‘Mrs Hyams, that’s handsome of you,’ said Bill, and stepped in.

Lilian smiled and closed the door. Tomorrow, she thought, I’m going to have to tell Tommy I invited the milkman in late at night. I’m getting ideas about the man. Can I help it if I want to see him with his shirt off? It’s the first time I’ve had a weakness about a milk roundsman’s chest. I’m going daft. But I admire a weakness like that. It shows I’m still a woman. Not that I expect to get his shirt off tonight. In due course, say, and without letting Rabbi Solomon know.

‘How long before Polly gets back, I wonder?’ said Rosie to Mr Finch. They were in his study, the hall phone not far away, and Cassie and Freddy were
outside
the house, at the gate, waiting. ‘Not too long, I hope.’

‘I think the police will be very deliberate in their actions,’ said Mr Finch.

‘You mean it’ll be some time before we’re required to make the phone call,’ said Rosie. ‘Freddy and Cassie won’t go until the whole thing is over, and Eloise will be looking in any moment to demand to know what’s going on, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘And Emily’s curiosity will also get the better of her,’ said Mr Finch.

‘Well, Grandpa, if either of them come asking questions,’ said Rosie, ‘I’ll leave you to answer them. You’re like Daddy, you’re so good at giving disarming answers. I’m much more like George Washington myself.’

‘I think you can hold your own when awkward questions are flying about,’ smiled Mr Finch. ‘I think Major Armitage found he’d met his match.’

‘That gentleman isn’t relevant at the moment,’ said Rosie. ‘We’re only concerned with Uncle Tommy and his family, and frankly, Grandpa, I’m frightened to death. Only the Lord knows how I’m managing to sit here waiting, especially as we both know that neither of us can trust Daddy to keep his head out of the way. But first and foremost, I’m praying for Uncle Tommy, Aunt Vi and their children. Is there a hope that we’ve drawn the wrong conclusions, that those wanted men aren’t really there?’

‘It’s a hope, a wish and a prayer, Rosie,’ said Mr Finch, and Rosie reflected on his apparent calmness. There was always more to him than met the eye, she thought. He and Boots were very close friends, and much alike in the way they disarmed the curious.
Boots
never showed alarm or panic in any crisis, he just gave his mind in very controlled fashion to the problem and its solution. It was no wonder that in any family crisis, his brothers Tommy and Sammy accepted his leadership. She knew why he hadn’t contacted Sammy and Aunt Susie about this really alarming crisis. Aunt Susie was expecting her fourth child next month. Boots was the last man who’d land her with a shock at this stage of her condition.

Rosie thought it wasn’t unusual for Polly to be in on this emergency. Somehow, she always seemed to be around whenever there was any kind of family trouble. It would have to be Polly, of course, who was with Boots now. When she returned, then at last the phone call could be made.

‘Grandpa, what work do you actually perform for the Government?’

Mr Finch mused on the question.

‘I suppose you could say I’m a civil servant,’ he said.

‘You might suppose that,’ said Rosie, ‘I don’t.’

‘Well, you’re a very intelligent young lady,’ said Mr Finch.

‘That’s no answer,’ said Rosie. ‘Grandpa, you’re deep.’

‘Am I, Rosie? What makes you say that?’

‘My intelligence,’ said Rosie. ‘Listen, I think someone should go out and talk to Cassie and Freddy. Having to put up with this unwelcome business when their wedding’s taking place on Saturday can’t be doing them much good. Will you stay here while I do that? As soon as Polly comes in sight, I’ll fly back to you.’

‘Very well, Rosie,’ said Mr Finch.

Cassie and Freddy, waiting on tenterhooks, were happy to have Rosie join them at the gate.

At this moment, Lilian and Bill were sitting together on her small settee listening to the wireless and waiting for the next news broadcast. Bill was chatting in his usual way, and it occurred to Lilian that he had the virtue of not being a boring man. He hadn’t mentioned new-laid eggs once. He kept that for his rounds. My life, thought Lilian, I’m bothered if I’m not beginning to like him quite a bit.

And I don’t feel at all daft about it.

I think I’ll give him an order for six eggs tomorrow.

Now, come on, wireless news, let’s hear if Bill has helped Scotland Yard to lay their lawful hands on the villains of the piece.

Apparently not, according to the measured tones of the newscaster.

‘Hard luck,’ said Lilian.

‘Give ’em time,’ said Bill. ‘By the way, you ought to come round to my place one day and look at the piano. See if it’ll fit against your wall there.’

Lilian laughed.

Chinese Lady, Emily and Eloise were now in a decidedly fidgety and curious state about what was going on. Tim said not to worry, his dad was sorting it all out on behalf of Cassie and Freddy. He added, irrelevantly, that he’d just remembered he’d promised to take Nick’s sister Fanny to the pictures one day.

‘If you made a promise, you ought to keep it,’ said Emily.

‘She’s got a nice little nose,’ said Tim.

‘You funny boy,’ said Eloise.

THE APPROACH TO
‘The Manor’ was made silently, and without any resident or pedestrian in sight. Boots walked at the front of the little file of men, Inspector Carson immediately behind him. One of the constables was carrying a length of coiled rope. Boots had a torch and so did Detective-Sergeant Halliday. The high front hedge of the house was on their left as the men advanced to the open gate. An additional man materialized and joined them, the man who had had the place under surveillance.

From her car, Polly watched, gloved hands a little clenched, mouth set. Bank robbers armed with a gun, exactly what kind of men were they? Thugs to begin with. Freddy could have suffered a fractured skull. With his perky gift for repartee, he and that imaginative girl Cassie were an engaging young couple, cockneys both, and making no bones about it. Freddy, who worked in Sammy’s brewery, ought to have the kind of job that would enable him to keep Cassie in style when they were married. Cassie had the kind of looks and character that entitled her to some of the good things of life. Well, thought Polly, I’ve known every Adams family member long enough to ask Sammy to give Freddy a job with genuine prospects. A brewery, for God’s sake, what sort of future did that hold for him? The
keeper
of the vats? Not good enough, Sammy. I’m going to do some work on you.

Ye gods, she thought, what am I now, some kind of floating fairy godmother?

Except for the two men responsible for ensuring members of the public were kept away, the slow-moving line of policemen, turning into the drive of Tommy’s house, disappeared from her vision, and she began to hold her breath. She jumped as a man on a bike cycled past the cars, going downhill at a lick.

Boots stopped when he reached Tommy’s car in the drive. Here and there the house showed lights behind drawn curtains. Inspector Carson moved noiselessly on to pass the side of the house and to vanish. Boots and the rest of the men waited. Back came the Inspector. He nodded, an indication that he had seen the parked van. Boots crossed the forecourt to the other side of the house, and everyone else followed like flitting ghosts on rubber-soled footwear. In the lee of the house, Boots switched on his torch, and the beam picked out the iron lid of the coal cellar. The men formed a circle around it. Boots illuminated coal dust around the lid.

‘Recent delivery,’ he whispered.

‘There’s a heap of coal down there?’ breathed Detective-Sergeant Halliday.

‘Someone could break a leg,’ said Boots.

‘Lift the lid,’ whispered the Inspector.

One man took a grip of the handle, flush with the lid, and cautiously heaved. Up came the lid to reveal a gaping black hole. Carefully and gently, the lid was set down at a distance. Boots pointed his torch and its beam shone downwards into the cellar. Blue-black chunks of coal glinted. The man as lean as a whippet
took
off his hat and jacket and laid them down. The rope was handed to him and he tied it around his waist. From the house there was no sound, and if it had not been for the lights at some windows, one could have said it was sleeping.

The roped man sat on the rim of the gaping hole and let his feet and legs drop in. Colleagues took hold of the rope and steadied themselves. The detective-constable from the Yard slid in, the rope taut, his hands gripping it. He was lowered slowly and cautiously into the cellar. His feet touched the top of a large stack of coal. The summit collapsed beneath his feet, but the taut rope held him. The beam of the torch shone into the cellar. There were little sharp sounds as pieces of coal fell away.