The Loss of the Jane Vosper (32 page)

It was probable, he thought, though of course not certain, that the genuine cases had been removed from the shed by Cruttenden himself with his Ford van. Other things being equal, he would wish to keep the knowledge of their origin from outsiders.

But if so, they could not in the nature of things have been taken very far. A long haul would have meant spreading the operation over too long a time. If, therefore, they had been taken a comparatively short distance only, to where could it have been?

The obvious suggestion was a railway goods station or a ship.

If he were right in this, the problem should be an easy one. He had only to enquire at the various adjoining goods yards and docks to get what he wanted.

He was about to start on this when a further idea occurred to him. Russia! Cruttenden’s Russian passport. Had the man sold the 350 sets in Russia?

Here might be a tremendous narrowing of his investigation. His first step at all events must be to find out if any steamer to Russia had recently taken with her 350 4 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet cases.

A telephone call to Lloyd’s soon supplied him with a note of all ships which had sailed for Russian ports within the period during which the sets must have been dispatched. Of these, two at once attracted his attention. They had sailed from the north riverside wharf between London Bridge and the Tower. This was exceedingly close to Redliff Lane. Moreover, they were Russian ships. Further, no other vessel had sailed to Russia from anywhere nearer the shed than the Surrey Commercial Docks.

Lloyd’s people had given the owners or agents of each of the boats on their list, and in less than an hour French was at the office of the agents of the promising two.

The manager was not at first inclined to give away information, but on being assured that the matter did not affect him or his steamers, but only the senders of the consignment, he thawed. Yes, there had been such a consignment. It had gone on the steamer
Chernigov
.

‘Who sent it and to whom was it invoiced?’ French asked in high delight.

Books were sent for, and in a few moments the information was available. The 350 crates were brought to the wharf by a private carrier, and they were invoiced from the Corona Engineering Company of Claygate, Surrey, to the Commissar for Agriculture of the Soviet Government.

French’s satisfaction now knew no bounds. Here at last was the essential link that he had so long sought! At last the entire scheme was clear. It was not for the insurance money on ship or cargo that Cruttenden and Henty had laboured and schemed; it was to steal the sets! The sinking of the ship was a mere incident – a precaution designed to prevent the theft becoming known.

French took out his notebook and began to figure. The sets were sold by the Weaver Bannister Company at £350 apiece. Suppose Cruttenden and Henty had got £300 from the Soviet Government. It would have brought in £105,000! Knock off £5000 for expenses, and there remained a profit of £100,000. One hundred thousand pounds!

No wonder the men had taken trouble and undergone risks to carry out their plans! There was here an amply sufficient reward.

But, French once again told himself, personal belief, however well founded, was not enough. Before he could say with certainty that what he suspected had been done, he must get a lot more proof.

Well, it should not be hard to get.

Returning to the Yard, he put his newly-obtained information before Sir Mortimer Ellison. That that astute gentleman was delighted he could see at a glance. The AC even allowed himself a brief word of compliment.

‘And what do you want next?’ he went on.

‘An application to the Russian Embassy, I suggest, sir,’ French returned. ‘If the Soviet Government have bought the sets, the Embassy people will know something about it. I suggest that if our facts were put before them they would react suitably.’

‘A good phrase,’ Sir Mortimer said dryly. ‘Then let us leave no stone unturned to get them to do so. With the help of the Home Office we shall explore every avenue. I’ll arrange for someone to call. You’d better go with him.’

French, slightly confused, agreed that this would meet the case, and withdrew.

At the interview which was afterwards arranged, the representatives of the Soviet Government proved entirely helpful. They were horrified to learn that the sets which they had bought were stolen, and assured their visitors that they had taken all reasonable precautions against fraud. They produced documents and laid the whole of the facts as they knew them before French and his companion.

From these it seemed that in the previous June the Soviet Government had advertised for 500 petrol-electric sets of a special type. They were to be larger than such are usually made, and were for the purpose of lighting the groups of buildings which were coming into being on the Soviet collective farms. The English manufacturers, however, had proved somewhat disappointing, and, though the matter was discussed with some of them, the price quoted was not considered satisfactory, and no contract had been placed. The matter had dragged on for some weeks, and then they received a visit from a man giving the name of James Rice. He was, he said, agent for the Corona Engineering Company, which was about to build large works near Claygate in Surrey. At the moment he had rented a small shed near the Tower, but his small firm was being incorporated in the Corona Company, and he would be moving to Claygate when the new works were ready.

He had, he went on, a number of sets which, though not absolutely what the Soviet Government had specified, were, he believed, equally suitable. He was not going to sing their praises, but he asked that a representative might be sent down to the shed to inspect a sample. If it proved not up to requirements no harm was done, but if it gave satisfaction negotiations might be entered upon. He said that unhappily he couldn’t supply 500, he had only 350. These, however, he could hand over within a comparatively few days.

Here the story was taken up by the engineer representative who had acted for the Soviet Government. This man, a big six-footer named Chmielinski, said he had fixed up an appointment with Cruttenden and they had met at the shed. On his remarking on the nature of the premises, Cruttenden had told him the story of their being only a makeshift until the works at Claygate should be finished.

This seemed reasonable to Chmielinski, though he did not give the matter a great deal of thought. What interested him was the set, which he examined and tested thoroughly. It was a beautiful piece of work, entirely suitable for their requirements. But there was only one. Cruttenden said the others were still at the Corona factory, but that that need not affect the matter. He proposed that this set should be marked by both parties, and that it should then be taken by the Russians as a sample to which all the remainder must conform. These others would be subject to inspection and test, and payment would not be expected unless they were found to be similar.

Chmielinski reported accordingly and in due course a firm agreement was entered into between the Government and Cruttenden. Nothing was heard of the matter for some time, then on the 8th October they were asked to send a representative to the shed to examine the 350 sets. Chmielinski had gone down again and had found them in opened cases. He had not actually unpacked them, but as all seemed of the same excellent quality as the sample, he had passed them for export. As it was impossible to test each one under load in the shed, it was arranged that this would be done at Leningrad, before the Soviet representatives there took them over. Cruttenden undertook to go to Leningrad for this purpose. He had done so, and, so far as they knew, the tests were in progress. It was part of the bargain that if the sets proved satisfactory the money should be paid in English pound notes. They had not considered this suspicious, owing to the difficulties connected with currency and exchange.

‘What was the agreed price?’ French asked when Chmielinski had finished.

‘Rice asked £325 each, but after further negotiations he agreed to take £295, provided we met him on some points of detail. These were of no importance, and we were glad to do so.’

So French’s estimate was correct, and the scoundrels had netted just about £100,000 as the result of their scheme.

French was not interested in the question which was then discussed, what was to be done to square up between Messrs Weaver Bannister, the Land and Sea Insurance Company, and the Soviet Government. What mattered to him was the whereabouts of Cruttenden. He waited till a favourable break in the conversation, then asked the question.

The Embassy representatives did not know. But they would find out. There was obviously personal feeling in their reply. French felt that they would do their utmost to help him to get his hands on those hundred thousand one-pound notes. The subject had evidently become a sore one.

Deeply satisfied with his progress, French returned to the Yard to lay his plans for the tracking down of his two criminals.

French had not much more than settled down to work when he was rung up from the Russian Embassy. A reply had come in from Leningrad. Cruttenden had been there for some days while the sets were being tested. The tests had been completed, the sets found satisfactory, and the money paid. Cruttenden had left for London on the Russian steamer
Kursk
,
due in the Thames on the following morning.

Nothing could have pleased French better. He set to work at once to ensure that Cruttenden should be suitably greeted on his arrival.

Not immediately on his arrival. There still lurked in the background the shadowy individual known as Henty. It was but just that the welcome to be prepared for Cruttenden should be extended also to Henty. Now Henty’s whereabouts was unknown. Could it not be arranged that Cruttenden’s last service to his King and country should be the clearing up of this essential point? French thought it could.

For the remainder of the day French sat in his office, first considering his plans, and then interviewing those concerned to ensure that his arrangements should be carried out without a hitch. Then, supremely pleased with himself, he went home.

The
Kursk
was due to pass Gravesend about midday, and well before that time French had reached the riverside town and introduced himself to Dr Busby, one of the port health officers. The doctor was a big man with a hearty manner and a loud voice.

‘Ha,’ he greeted French with a twinkle in his eye, ‘my new clerk, are you? I hope you can write better than the last, or you’ll not hold your job long.’

‘Have I much writing to do?’ French asked meekly.

‘Now how do I know?’ the doctor queried. ‘I suppose you scarcely expect me to teach you your work?’

‘No,’ said French, ‘I don’t suppose you could do that. I think I’d better have a lot of writing to do. Keep my face out of the limelight, you know.’

‘Righto, I’ll fix it. What’s this Johnny been up to that you want to get your claws into?’

‘In confidence?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then I’ll tell you. The
Jane
Vosper
.’

‘Holy smoke! You mean he sank her?’

‘He was the ringleader. There was another man in it, too.’

The doctor shrugged. ‘Then he deserves all that’s coming to him. I’m glad to have a finger in the pie.’

A man put his head into the room. ‘Steamer’s just coming up, sir,’ he declared. ‘Boat’ll be starting in two or three minutes.’

‘Good. Will you come along, clerk?’

The
Kursk
was a raised quarter-deck vessel of about 2000 tons register. French followed the doctor aboard a launch containing some other port officials, and in a few moments they were out in the river and transferring to the Russian. French was curious apart from his quest. It was the first time he had been on a Soviet vessel, and he had somehow expected to see something different from what might normally be expected. He had read tales of the strange equality that obtains between officers and men, and hoped that some interesting scenes would take place for his entertainment.

However, the men of the
Kursk
did not seem very different from other seamen. He thought they were a mild, kindly-looking crowd, not perhaps of a superlative intelligence, though he reminded himself that he had yet to see the ship’s company which exhibited the latter trait in a marked degree. He noted with some surprise the good terms on which Dr Busby seemed to be with the Russians. The same, indeed, applied to all the port officials.

After various formalities had been gone through the crew lined up on the deck and Dr Busby passed from one to another, looking at their tongues and asking them questions. As he did so he barked out cryptic utterances to French, who dutifully made a show of writing them down.

At the first glance French saw Cruttenden. There was no mistaking him, as the photograph was a good likeness. French was careful neither to stare nor to avoid looking at him. He contented himself with a mere glance, passing on at once to the next man.

This was half of what French wanted: to satisfy himself that Cruttenden really was on board. The second half was to see that he didn’t leave the ship before the proper point of disembarkation, at which Inspector Tanner and Constable Shaw would be prepared to welcome him. As soon, therefore, as the doctor had finished, French faded away to the captain’s cabin, where, owing to a note sent from the Embassy, he was received as an honoured guest.

The port officials having left in their launch, the
Kursk
went on up the river. It was a dull day with a cold wind blowing in from the east. The river showed the colour of lead, mottled with the lights and shades of waves and relieved with occasional flecks of white. The banks were low and the buildings drab and uninspired looking. French, staring along the deserted deck from the captain’s porthole, was glad of the warm shelter.

They passed through the Tower Bridge as dusk was falling and drew in to the wharf on the south side of the Upper Pool. From his retreat French watched the berthing. So far his man was all right, for the
Kursk
had not stopped since leaving Gravesend. But now a critical time was approaching. Cruttenden must neither be allowed to get out of sight nor to obtain a glimpse of his bodyguard. French could now see him on deck, shooting little suspicious glances around, and from the shelter of a boat spying out on those on the wharf.