The Enemy Within E-Book

Edward Marston

• Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Home Front Detective
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 437

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Pentonville Prison. Wally Hubbard is serving a long sentence for arson. But after befriending and tricking one of the officers, Hubbard makes an audacious escape. Inspector Marmion, the detective who arrested Hubbard, is warned to watch his back, but it seems that Hubbard has another target in his murderous sights. However, the investigation is mired in confusion, the identities of killer and victim become increasingly ambiguous. An inmate at an internment camp who might be a spy sending intelligence to the Germans complicates matters further, and the multiplying manhunts, as well as Marmion's concern for his injured and withdrawn son Paul, leave the detective desperate and perhaps with too many threads to untangle.

Leseprobe

The Enemy Within

EDWARD MARSTON

Contents

Title PageCHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY About the Author By Edward Marston Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Kenneth Pearce knew the routine so well that he could perform his duties with his eyes shut – not that he’d dare to do that in a prison. It could prove fatal. After ten years as a warder at Pentonville, he was an established member of staff. Yet now he was actually thinking of leaving what he’d always considered a job for life. The pressure of events worried him. Since Germany had declared unrestricted submarine warfare, the noose had been tightened around Britain. Food shortages were causing serious problems and rationing was strict. Every time Pearce opened a newspaper, it seemed to contain bad news about the war.

He was a wiry man of medium height with a wispy moustache lending a touch of interest to an otherwise blank face. Pearce was preoccupied that evening. Wally Hubbard guessed what was on his mind.

‘You decided yet, sir?’ he asked, politely.

‘Yes and no.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I want to join up but my wife is begging me to stay where I’m safe.’

‘If you didn’t work here,’ said Hubbard, ‘you’d have to enlist.’

‘That’s what I keep telling her.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Pearce, removing his peaked cap to scratch his head. ‘If I join the army, my wife will never forgive me; if I don’t do my bit in France, I’ll never forgive myself.’ He replaced his hat. ‘What would you do?’

Hubbard laughed grimly. ‘I only wish I had the choice.’

Choices of any kind had disappeared from the life of Wally Hubbard. After being convicted of arson, he’d been given a long sentence and every decision was now made for him by someone else. He’d been deprived of his liberty, his personal possessions, his privacy and even his name. He was simply a number now. Many prisoners were seething with resentment when they first came to Pentonville and they caused endless trouble as a result. Hubbard was unusual in being ready to accept his punishment with a philosophical shrug. It had endeared him to Pearce. Most of the warders did nothing but bark orders at the prisoner but Pearce had conversations with him. While something close to a friendship had begun to develop, however, there was a dividing line between them that would never be crossed.

‘Wasn’t the missus upset about her brother-in-law?’ asked Hubbard.

‘Yes, of course, she was very upset. When we first heard the news of Leslie’s death, she was heartbroken. But she doesn’t want me to take his place. Because my brother was killed in the trenches, she thinks the same thing will happen to me.’

‘Not before you’ve shot a few Krauts, I hope.’

‘I’ve got this urge to join the fight. I feel so helpless, stuck here.’

‘Me, too,’ murmured the other.

‘I’ve talked to the chaplain about it,’ confided Pearce, ‘and he told me to follow my conscience. But with a wife like mine, that’s not so easy.’

‘You got my sympathy, sir.’

They were on the landing outside Hubbard’s cell. Pearce had just unlocked it to let the prisoner out before locking it again with one of the many keys that dangled from a large ring attached by a chain to his belt. He led the way along the landing, then descended the staircase. Hubbard followed him dutifully, their boots echoing on the steel steps. The warder then took his prisoner through a succession of doors, each one of which had to be unlocked and relocked. Since he was now a familiar figure in Pentonville, Hubbard collected nods of recognition from other warders. One of them even called him by his name. It was a moment to savour.

‘I still think I should go,’ said Pearce, solemnly. ‘It’s what Leslie would expect of me.’

‘What would your brother have done in your position, sir?’

‘Oh, there’s no doubt about that. If I’d been killed in action, Leslie would join up in a flash. He wouldn’t think twice about it. Mind you, there’s one big difference.’

‘Is there?’

‘My brother wasn’t married.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘There was nobody to stop him enlisting. In my case, there is.’

‘What about all those posters telling women to send their husbands off to war? Didn’t your wife see those?’

Pearce sighed. ‘My wife only sees what she wants to see.’

As they came out of the main door to the wing, he turned to lock it behind him and was momentarily off guard. It was a big mistake. Wally Hubbard suddenly came to life, producing a cosh from up his sleeve, knocking off the warder’s hat and felling him with a vicious blow. After hitting him again for good measure, he dragged him off into the shadows. Their friendship was over.

CHAPTER TWO

Claude Chatfield would never be popular but even his enemies – and he had several of them – had to admire his commitment. Nobody at Scotland Yard worked harder or for longer hours than the superintendent. His stamina was almost legendary. Conscientious to a fault, he expected the same dedication from his officers. Any sign of laziness, fatigue or lack of concentration was pounced upon. He was delighted to be given an excuse to reprimand Harvey Marmion when the latter eventually came into his office.

‘I sent for you fifteen minutes ago,’ he complained.

‘I was busy, Superintendent.’

‘What were you doing – tidying your desk or counting your paperclips?’

‘Neither, sir.’

‘Then why didn’t you respond instantly?’

‘Your message came at an awkward moment,’ explained Marmion. ‘I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.’

‘It’s not the first time, Inspector.’

‘I’m sorry that I was detained, sir.’

‘I don’t want an apology. I just need you to obey orders for once.’

‘The commissioner was with me.’

Chatfield had to bite back the tirade he was about to launch. If Sir Edward Henry was in the inspector’s office, then Marmion had a legitimate reason for the delay. The Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police was a person who took precedence over everyone in the building. Nettled that he could not rebuke the inspector for his tardy arrival, Chatfield was also quivering with envy. Sir Edward, he believed, was far too indulgent towards Marmion. He had too high an opinion of the inspector and was always ready to defend him against criticism.

‘What did the commissioner want?’ asked Chatfield.

‘It’s a private matter, sir.’

‘Does it concern a case in which you’ve been involved?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ replied Marmion, enjoying the other man’s patent exasperation. ‘Do you have a new investigation for me, Superintendent?’

‘Yes, I’ve been waiting for you to deign to answer my summons.’

‘What does it concern?’

‘It concerns a man named Walter Hubbard.’

‘But he’s cooling his heels in Pentonville. I put him there.’

‘You may need to do the same thing again, Inspector.’

‘Why?’

‘He escaped yesterday evening.’

Marmion smiled. ‘Wally Hubbard always was a slippery customer.’

‘It’s not a cause for amusement,’ snapped Chatfield. ‘Apart from anything else, a prison officer was badly injured.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir.’

‘We’ve mounted a manhunt. I want you in charge of it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Marmion. ‘What are the details?’

‘All I know is that he overpowered the officer, used his keys to open a storeroom and hid the man there. Then, would you believe, he had the gall to change into the officer’s uniform.’

‘It sounds like just the kind of thing Hubbard would do.’

The superintendent glowered. ‘There’s an unwelcome note of approval in your voice, Inspector.’

‘It was a daring escape, sir, and involved high risks. I’m just acknowledging the courage it must have taken.’

‘That wasn’t courage,’ said Chatfield, rancorously. ‘It was low cunning allied to brutality. The injured man was unconscious for hours.’

Marmion was genuinely upset by the news. He had great respect for prison staff, men who did an important job but got scant praise for doing so. Danger was an accepted part of their lot. Behind the high walls of Pentonville, assaults of warders were always a possibility.

The inspector was a chunky man in his forties who was the despair of tailors. Even in his best suit, he contrived to look dishevelled. Chatfield, by contrast, was impeccably dressed. He was a tall, stringy man with thinning hair who – when they were alone together – didn’t bother to hide his dislike of Marmion.

‘Well,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘don’t just stand there, man.’

‘I’ll round up Sergeant Keedy and get over there right away.’

‘Don’t tell the governor that you admire what Hubbard did or you may find it difficult to get out of Pentonville again. He hates an escape. It reflects badly on his regimen and it means he’ll be pilloried in the newspapers.’

‘That’s never a pleasant experience,’ said Marmion, ruefully. ‘I’ve still got bruises from some of the treatment we’ve received from the gentlemen of the press.’

‘Well, don’t give them any more target practice. Find Hubbard and find him fast. After all, it’s very much in your own interests.’

‘Is it, sir?’

‘You have a short memory,’ said Chatfield, clicking his tongue. ‘When your evidence helped to convict Hubbard, he had to be restrained in the dock. As they dragged him out, he swore that he’d kill you one day.’

Marmion was unperturbed. ‘I’m used to empty threats, Superintendent.’

‘In this case, the threat may not be quite so empty. An escaped convict is usually a desperate character. Take great care, Inspector,’ he added, wagging a finger. ‘Find this man quickly – before he finds you.’

Ellen Marmion had tried almost everything to bring her son out of his melancholy but all to no avail. Paul remained in a world of his own, silent, troubled and disengaged. He was a well-built young man with a surface resemblance to his father. Before the war, he’d been a lively, confident, happy-go-lucky lad but that person had now disappeared completely. Having enlisted in the army with the other members of his football team, Paul had had to watch as they’d been killed in action one by one. His best friend, Colin Fryatt, had been the last to die on the battlefield and Paul, close to him at the time, had been injured and blinded. Suffering from shell shock, he’d been discharged. While there had been a slow improvement in his eyesight, there’d been none at all in his attitude. None of the members of his family could reach him. Over a late breakfast, his mother made one more doomed attempt to do so.

‘What are you going to do today?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why don’t you come to the shops with me?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘The fresh air will do you good, Paul.’

‘I’d rather stay here.’

‘It’s not healthy, spending all your time in your room.’

‘What else is there to do?’ he said, gruffly.

‘Well, you could get out and meet people of your own age.’

‘I don’t see the point.’

He’d said the same thing to his mother for months and it was lowering. Ellen took a deep breath. She was a plump woman of middle years with a homely face now distorted by age and lined with apprehension. When her son had first come home, he’d shuttled between extremes of gloom and exhilaration, frightened that he’d be blind for the rest of his life then seized by the hope that he’d make a miraculous recovery and be able to rejoin his regiment once more. That phase seemed to have ended. Paul now moved slowly around with an air of desolation.

‘I’ll need to change the sheets on your bed,’ she warned.

‘I can do that, Mummy.’

‘It’s no trouble.’

‘Leave it to me.’

It was the only pleasing reminder of his army career. Paul had been taught to look after himself. He kept his room tidy and was always well groomed. Even when he could hardly see, he’d shaved himself carefully every day. He wore his hair short and polished his shoes relentlessly. There were moments when he looked like the proud young soldier on leave for the first time but they were only fleeting. There was no sense of pride about him now.

‘Mrs Redwood is coming to tea this afternoon,’ she said.

‘Oh.’

‘I suggested that she might bring her daughter along. You remember Sally Redwood, don’t you? You were at school with her.’

‘Was I?’ he asked, uncertainly.

‘She remembers you very well.’

‘I can’t place her.’

‘You will when you see her, I’m sure.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s because she’s so pretty and full of life.’

‘What I meant was why should I see her at all?’

‘You have to be sociable, Paul.’

‘Mrs Redwood is coming to see you, not me.’

‘But she’s bringing her daughter.’

‘So what? I didn’t invite her.’

‘You’d have lots to talk about with Sally.’

‘No, I won’t.’

‘Won’t you at least try to be nice to her?’

He shook his head. ‘I remember her now,’ he said. ‘She was a skinny girl with freckles. I didn’t like her at school and I’m not going to start liking her now.’ Getting up from the table, he headed for the door. ‘I’ll change the sheets.’

Ellen bit her lip. Yet another stratagem had failed.

On the drive to Pentonville, they sat side by side in the rear of the car. Harvey Marmion explained to Joe Keedy why they were going to the prison. The sergeant was a tall, lean man in his early thirties with the kind of features that earned him a lot of female attention. Highly conscious of his appearance, he made Marmion look shabby. In a relaxed setting, they dispensed with formalities. Keedy was engaged to Marmion’s daughter, Alice, so the men were on first-name terms.

‘We had quite a game catching Wally Hubbard,’ recalled Keedy.

‘We got him in the end, Joe.’

‘My memory is that he put up a real fight.’

‘Wouldn’t you have done the same thing in his position?’

‘Probably – he was facing a long sentence.’

‘Arson is a heinous crime,’ said Marmion, ‘and it was also a case of attempted murder. It was just bad luck for Wally that the house he set fire to was empty.’

‘Bad luck for him, maybe, but good luck for the man who lived there.’

‘He’d have been burnt alive.’

‘Hubbard is a nasty piece of work.’

‘In some ways, yes, but I’ve got a sneaking regard for him.’

Keedy was surprised. ‘Regard for that cruel bastard?’ he said. ‘You can’t be serious, Harv.’

‘You’re forgetting why he torched that house.’

‘He wanted someone to go up in flames.’

‘But it wasn’t any old someone, Joe. It was the man who seduced his daughter then dumped her when she became pregnant. It was a sad business. The child was stillborn and the mother died of complications that set in during her time in hospital.’ His voice darkened. ‘In those circumstances, I think that a lot of fathers might want to get vengeance on their daughter’s behalf.’

‘I get the message,’ said Keedy, laughing. ‘If I don’t stand by Alice, you’ll come after me with a box of matches.’

‘I might be tempted.’ As they turned into the Caledonian Road, he saw the prison looming up ahead of them. ‘You’ve never been here before, have you?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘It has a rich history. Some notorious villains have ended up in Pentonville. Dr Crippen was executed here and so was Frederick Seddon, the poisoner. Last year, of course, Sir Roger Casement, the Irish republican, was hanged here for treason. He went to Germany in search of assistance for the Easter Rising. I thought he was supposed to be a diplomat.’

‘Seeking help from our mortal enemy was not very diplomatic.’

‘He found that out the hard way.’

The car drew up outside the prison and the detectives got out. Keedy had his first close sight of Pentonville. The perimeter wall was long, high and daunting. He was struck by the awesome solidity of the place.

‘I wouldn’t want to be locked up in here,’ he said with a shiver.

‘You may have to be for a while, Joe.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I have a special job for you.’

‘Oh?’

‘While I talk to the governor, I’d like you to interview Wally Hubbard’s cellmate.’

‘How do you know that he had a cellmate?’

‘This is not a hotel,’ said Marmion with a grin. ‘There are no single rooms with a bathroom attached. You have to share. As for the sanitary arrangements, all you get is a chamber pot that you’re allowed to empty once a day. It’s no wonder that Wally Hubbard decided to get out of here.’

In response to the bell, a small door was opened in one of the main gates and a prison officer glared inhospitably at them. When they identified themselves, the man stood back to admit them. They ducked their heads and entered the gatehouse. Another set of gates, barred this time, was facing them. The officer locked the first door then stepped into his office to make a phone call. He emerged a few moments later.

‘You’re to wait here,’ he said, crisply. ‘The governor is sending someone.’

The detectives looked through the bars. Built over seventy years earlier, Pentonville followed the standard Victorian design. It had a central hall with five radiating wings. It had originally held over five hundred inmates, each with a separate cell. Numbers had grown substantially since then and two-man cells were the norm. Although they had merely come through the main entrance, Keedy felt a keen sense of oppression. Marmion noted his unease.

‘How would you like to be banged up in here for twenty years, Joe?’

‘Twenty minutes is long enough for me,’ replied Keedy. ‘Look at the place, Harv. How on earth did Hubbard manage to escape?’

‘That’s not the question I’m asking,’ said Marmion.

‘Then what is?’

‘Where the hell is he?’

Maisie Rogers was a short, buxom woman in her early forties with blonde hair trailing down to her shoulders and large blue eyes. Having slept until late, she awoke and dragged herself upright to test the temperature. When she realised how cold it was, she grabbed the dressing gown that was lying across the bed and put it on. After a protracted yawn, she got out of bed, stretched herself then reached for the curtains. When she pulled them back, she was startled to see a man crawling towards her on the roof of the shed below. Her first instinct was to scream but she then recognised him. Unlocking the sash window, she heaved it up and put her hands on her hips.

‘What the devil are you doing here, Wally?’ she asked in amazement.

‘I’m freezing to death,’ he replied, scrambling up to her. ‘Get back into bed and warm me up a little. I’ll explain everything afterwards.’

CHAPTER THREE

Geoffrey Wilson-Smith, the prison governor, was a big, broad-shouldered man in his fifties with a large paunch cunningly disguised by expensive tailoring. His bald head gleamed and his eyes blazed. Seated in a high-backed chair, he told his visitors what had happened, punctuating his tale by tapping on the desk with his knuckles as if using a secret Morse code. They listened patiently. When the recitation finally reached its conclusion, Marmion was ready with the first question.

‘So you’re not absolutely sure how Hubbard escaped, are you?’

‘There are various possibilities, Inspector,’ said the governor. ‘The most likely one is that he mingled with the other officers when they came off duty and slipped out in the crowd.’

‘Wouldn’t he be recognised?’

‘Not necessarily. He was wearing a uniform. At the end of a long day on duty, all that my officers wish to do is to get back home to a hot meal and to enjoy the luxury of putting their feet up. Also, of course, it was dark. Hubbard deliberately waited until evening.’

‘Why was he out of his cell in the first place?’

‘He was being moved to another wing.’

‘There is another explanation,’ suggested Keedy.

The governor turned to him. ‘I’d be interested to hear it.’

‘You mentioned a delivery van that brought in food supplies.’

‘That’s right. It comes every day at the same time. The diet here is not exactly enticing but we’re duty-bound to feed the inmates.’

Keedy snapped his fingers. ‘There’s your answer then.’

‘What is?’

‘Hubbard could have concealed himself in the van and been driven out.’

‘Give us some credit, Sergeant,’ said the governor, loftily. ‘We’re not that stupid. Every vehicle is searched before it’s allowed in or out of the prison.’

‘I’m sure that they looked inside the van, sir, but did they go to the trouble of looking underneath?’

The other man began to bluster. Marmion jumped in quickly.

‘I see what the sergeant is getting at, sir,’ he said. ‘We had a case last year where a prisoner on remand escaped by clinging to the underside of a lorry that had made a delivery. As soon as it stopped at a junction, he let go and made a run for it.’

Wilson-Smith lifted an eyebrow. ‘Was he recaptured?’

‘No, sir – he was knocked down by a car, but the point is that he did actually enjoy a brief moment of freedom. Only a strong and determined man would dare to choose that means of escape. Hubbard, I can assure you, is both.’

‘It’s a possibility, I grant you,’ said the governor, huffily, ‘but I incline towards my earlier theory. He used his disguise to walk out of here. Hubbard was clever. When he picked on Pearce, he chose an officer with the same height and build as himself. The uniform fitted perfectly.’

‘Right,’ said Marmion, jotting something in his notebook, ‘there are lots of other questions I have, sir, but I’d like to ask a favour before I do that.’

‘What is it?’

‘Could the sergeant please have permission to speak to Hubbard’s cellmate?’

‘Waste of time.’

‘Why do you say that, sir?’

‘I’ve already grilled the fellow myself and got nothing from him.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Barter – Vincent Barter. He’s an incorrigible burglar. This is his fifth stay with us in Pentonville.’

‘I’d still like to talk to him, sir,’ said Keedy. ‘What harm could it do?’

‘You never know,’ added Marmion. ‘The sergeant might be able to elicit something from Barter. If he’s a regular customer of yours, he’ll have known the routine here inside out. That information would have been valuable to Hubbard.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he was an accessory to some degree,’ said the governor, ‘but you’ll never get him to admit it. Speak to him, if you must, Sergeant, but you’ll come up against a brick wall.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Keedy, exchanging a glance with Marmion.

Picking up the telephone, the governor made a quick call. In less than a minute, an officer arrived to escort Keedy out of the office. Marmion was left alone with the governor.

‘You’ve told us about his exemplary conduct here,’ he said, ‘and how he won the confidence of this particular officer. Have you considered the notion that he might have had an accomplice?’

The governor bristled with indignation. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that one of my officers helped him? That’s out of the question.’

‘I was thinking of someone who could have thrown a rope ladder over the wall at a prearranged time. Hubbard knew the date when he’d be moved to another wing and seized his chance.’

‘How could he get word to this phantom accomplice?’

‘Quite easily, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘You allow visitors. Have you checked to see if anyone came here recently for Hubbard?’ The governor looked embarrassed. ‘Perhaps you’d do so, sir. Our starting point will be the friends and associates of the escaped man. The likelihood is that he’ll have gone to ground with one of them.’

Getting up, the governor crossed to a filing cabinet and opened a drawer. He took out a thick ledger and put it on his desk, slapping it with a palm.

‘I’ve got all the details you need in here, Inspector.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You will find him, won’t you?’

‘Oh, I’m certain of it,’ said Marmion, cheerfully. ‘We caught him once before and we can do so again. I’m looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with Mr Hubbard. He led us a merry dance last time. We won’t let him do that again.’

Maisie Rogers flopped back on the pillow and let out a full-throated laugh. Hubbard enjoyed watching the way that her breasts wobbled. She was the one person who’d have taken him in without a qualm. In the days when he’d run a pub in Brixton, Maisie had been one of his barmaids. She was loyal, efficient and straightforward. He liked that. Having told her in detail how he’d escaped from Pentonville, he warned her that he wouldn’t be able to stay there long.

‘Why ever not?’ she asked, peevishly.

‘I don’t want to put you in danger, darling. Before too long, the coppers will be knocking on your door.’

‘I’ll get rid of them, don’t you worry.’

‘You’re a close friend, Maisie. They’ll guess that I might come here.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t come earlier. Where did you spend the night?’

‘I was on the move,’ he told her. ‘I couldn’t stay in that uniform so I broke into a second-hand shop and helped myself to some old clothes and a big hat. In any case,’ he went on, nudging her, ‘it would have been rude to disturb a lady in the middle of the night. You might have had company.’

‘Not me, Wally – I’m keeping myself pure for you.’

He cackled. ‘What about that landlord who was making eyes at you?’

‘Oh, he’s harmless. Eric flirts with me but he does that with all the barmaids. The truth is that he prefers boys. He’s never laid a finger on me.’

‘Good – are you pleased to see me?’

‘I was thrilled – once I got over the shock of spotting you on that roof.’

He pulled her close. ‘This is what I missed most when I was locked up.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to break out?’ she asked. ‘When I visited you in prison, you didn’t even give me a hint.’

‘I didn’t dare, Maisie. Somebody’s always listening.’

‘What happens next?’

‘This does,’ he said, kissing her and fondling a breast.

She responded willingly and they were soon entwined but their pleasure was short-lived. There was a loud knock on the front door. Hubbard sat up.

‘That sounds like the coppers.’

‘Calm down, Wally. There’s no need for alarm.’

‘Yes, there is. I’ve heard that knock before.’

‘Leave them to me,’ she said, hopping out of bed and putting on her dressing gown. ‘I’ll send them on their way.’

After stepping into her slippers, she opened the door and went quickly downstairs, running a hand through her hair. As she went along the passageway, the frail voice of her landlady came from the front room.

‘Will you see who that is, Maisie?’

‘Yes, Mrs Donovan. I’m on my way.’

‘Thank you.’

Maisie pulled back the bolt and opened the door. Bracing herself for the sight of a policeman on the doorstep, she was instead looking at a small, bird-like woman in her sixties who peered at her through wire-framed spectacles. She was clutching a pot in both hands.

‘Good morning, Miss Rogers,’ she said, sweetly.

‘And the same to you, Mrs Abberley.’

‘I’ve brought some more broth.’

‘That’s so kind of you,’ said Maisie, standing back to let her in. ‘Mrs Donovan will be very grateful. Why don’t you come in and give it to her?’

‘I’ll heat it up when she’s ready for it.’

‘You know where the kitchen is.’

‘I should do.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘How is she this morning?’

‘You’ll be able to ask her.’

After closing the door, Maisie showed the visitor into the front room. Her landlady was virtually bedridden and relied on neighbours like Mrs Abberley for companionship and for occasional treats such as hot broth. Maisie was relieved that it had not been the police and pleased that she would not have to spend any time doing chores for her landlady. Since she’d been taken ill, Mrs Donovan needed more and more help and her lodger had become an unpaid carer as well. Maisie was now off duty. The visitor would take care of everything now. The two old ladies would talk happily for hours. Running back up the stairs, Maisie went to her room to pass on the good news to Hubbard and to climb back into bed with him.

There was, however, a problem. He was no longer there.

The room was bare and featureless, with a naked light bulb and a barred window high up in the wall. A table and two chairs comprised the only furniture. It was like every other interview room that Keedy had been in when visiting a prison. It was resolutely depressing. He had a lengthy wait before a warder arrived with Vincent Barter in tow. The prisoner was told to sit on one side of the table. Keedy took the chair opposite him. Having locked the door, the warder stood in front of it.

Barter was a short, skinny man in his fifties with close-cropped grey hair and a rat-like face. His ingratiating grin annoyed Keedy. For his part, the other man was weighing up the detective, wondering if he could wrest some small favour from him or gain some slight advantage. When Keedy introduced himself, Barter winked at him slyly.

‘Haven’t got a spare fag, have you, sir?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Pity – I’m gasping.’

‘You know why I’m here,’ said Keedy, brusquely. ‘Tell me about Hubbard.’

‘I already spoke to the governor.’

‘Well, I want to hear you now.’

Barter shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell.’

‘When you share a cell with someone for months, you must get to know them pretty well. Do you agree?’

‘Yes,’ said Barter, sniggering. ‘You soon discover if they fart in their sleep.’

‘What was Hubbard like?’

‘He kept himself to himself.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘I was there, Sergeant. You weren’t.’

‘We arrested Wally Hubbard,’ said Keedy, ‘and he never stopped talking. He worked in the pub trade most of his life. There’s no such thing as a quiet landlord. So don’t try to fob me off by telling me he’d taken a vow of silence.’

‘He was an angry man,’ conceded Barter. ‘Deep down, that is. On the surface, he was all smiles but that didn’t fool me.’

‘Did he ever talk to you about escape?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Did he ever ask you about the geography of the prison?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Did you ever describe the routine here to him?’

‘Never,’ said the other, feigning innocence. ‘All he ever talked about was missing a woman and missing the smell of beer.’

‘Did you see any signs that he might be hoping to get out of here?’

‘None at all, Sergeant – and that’s the honest truth.’

He smirked at Keedy as if he’d just scored a debating point. Having withstood an interrogation by the governor, Barter was confident to the point of being downright cocky. His manner irritated Keedy.

‘When did you start to go blind, Mr Barter?’ he asked.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my sight,’ protested the other.

‘When did deafness begin to set in?’

‘What are you on about?’

‘I’m talking about your unfortunate deficiencies,’ said Keedy, looking around the room. ‘You spend the majority of each day in a cell no bigger than this and yet you neither see nor hear anything that arouses your suspicion. Criminals – even hopeless ones like you – usually have heightened senses. They read people for signs of danger or hints of weakness. You did that to Wally Hubbard.’

‘We never talked about escape,’ insisted the other.

‘Then what did you think he was going to do with that cosh?’

‘What cosh?’

‘The one used to knock Mr Pearce unconscious. It was discarded in the storeroom where the victim was left. According to the governor, Pearce was trussed up like a Christmas turkey. That means Hubbard had a gag and some rope hidden about him when he left here yesterday evening.’ Keedy leant across the table and fixed him with a stare. ‘Where did he get them?’

‘Search me.’

‘You must have seen them.’

‘I didn’t, I swear it.’

‘My guess is that you even told him how to get hold of them.’

‘That’s slander!’ howled Barter.

‘I’ve met dozens of people like you,’ said Keedy with disgust. ‘They know how to survive in prison. As soon as they’re jailed, they quickly get to know everyone and everything in there. They learn who to befriend and who to avoid. They lap up information like sponges because it could come in useful. That’s what happened with Wally Hubbard, isn’t it? You had information that he needed.’

‘I never told him a thing.’

‘How much did he pay you, Barter?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the other, defensively.

‘You’d have to be blind, deaf and half-witted not to realise what he was up to. And Hubbard obviously trusted you enough to turn to you.’

‘I was kept in the dark. I’d take my Bible oath on that.’

‘Come on,’ said Keedy, ‘I’ve seen the way it works. You can get almost anything in prison if you have money and Hubbard was more than smart enough to bring some in with him. You wouldn’t have helped him out of the kindness of your heart, would you? So you had to be bought. He had to pay you to get hold of the things he needed to escape.’

Barter laughed wildly. ‘You’re making this up.’

‘You were his accomplice, weren’t you?’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘You helped him work out every detail of his plan.’

‘It’s a rotten lie.’

‘It was you who told him to work on Pearce.’

‘I wasn’t involved in any way.’

‘Then why didn’t you warn the staff what Hubbard had in mind?’ asked Keedy, raising his voice. ‘You must have realised that it would be bad for you if he escaped. Everyone would assume that you were in league with him and add a few more years to your sentence. Do you actually like being caged in here?’

‘No,’ snarled Barter, ‘I hate every bleeding day. That’s why I did my best to talk Wally out of it. I knew I’d suffer as a result.’

Keedy sat back in his chair and smiled. He’d got the confession he was after. Barter could no longer pretend that he had no intimation of what his cellmate had had in mind. The prisoner’s head had drooped. It was time to press home the advantage.

‘Why did he want to get out of here?’

‘We all want to get out of this hellhole.’

‘But what was the reason Wally Hubbard gave?’

‘He had a score to settle.’

‘Go on.’

‘Wally said that he had to get out of here to kill someone.’

‘And who was that someone – Inspector Marmion?’

‘No,’ replied Barter.

‘Then who was it?’

‘It was a man he hated – Ben Croft.’

CHAPTER FOUR

It had never been Alice Marmion’s intention to join the police force. She’d been perfectly happy in her job as a teacher, enjoying the work and being adored by her pupils. War had rearranged her priorities. After a testing spell with the Women’s Emergency Corps, she’d followed her father and her fiancé into law enforcement. Unlike them, she had limited powers and was not involved in dealing with serious crime of any kind but she nevertheless felt that she was performing a useful duty. When she was out on patrol that morning, her partner was Iris Goodliffe, a chubby young woman whose only previous job had been in a family pharmacy business. On a chilly day, they kept up a steady, unvarying pace.

‘You ought to be promoted, Alice,’ said Iris.

‘Don’t be silly!’

‘I’m being serious. You’re too intelligent to walk the beat.’

‘Everyone has to do that at the start.’

‘Yes, but you’ve served your apprenticeship now. Inspector Gale must see how much brighter you are than the rest of us. Police work is in your blood. Your father is a famous detective.’ 

‘That’s the very reason I’ll never be considered for promotion,’ said Alice, resignedly. ‘Gale Force will never forgive me for being the daughter of a detective inspector and engaged to a detective sergeant. She can’t cope with it somehow.’

‘Don’t underestimate her. She has her virtues and she knows a good policewoman when she sees one.’

‘I agree – unless she happens to be looking at me.’

Alice gave a brittle laugh. After all this time, she was still having problems with Inspector Gale, a woman who seemed to divide people into friends and enemies. While Alice was kept very firmly in the enemy section, Iris was treated as a friend. It was deliberate and it irked Alice. She was always pleased to be on patrol with Iris because the latter was such pleasant company. Committed to her job, Iris was vigilant and quite fearless when having to confront someone. Though her uniform was still too tight for her, she now looked and sounded like a real policewoman.

‘There are some good films on at the moment,’ she said, fishing gently.

‘I wish I had the time to see one of them.’

‘Try to make time, Alice.’

‘I’ve got too much to do.’

‘All work and no play …’

‘I’m not that dull, am I?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Iris with a laugh. ‘You should pamper yourself a little more, that’s all. If you want to see a film, I’ll always go with you.’

‘Thanks, Iris, I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘It’s ages since we went to the cinema.’

Alice remembered the occasion only too well. It had been months ago. They saw and enjoyed a film together before going on to a bar. Having only seen Iris when she was sober, Alice was not prepared for what happened when her friend had had a couple of drinks. Iris had become loud, brash and very embarrassing. In the end, Iris had had to be hustled out of the bar by Alice. It was an experience that was never repeated. Happy to work alongside her, Alice kept her at an arm’s length when off duty.

‘I’m going to the hairdresser on my day off,’ said Iris.

‘You deserve a treat.’

‘I’m going to change the style completely and have it much more like yours.’

Alice was wary. ‘Is that wise?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it may not suit you.’

Iris grinned. ‘What you mean is that it’s perfect for a lovely face like yours but it would be wrong for someone like me with a big head and bulging cheeks.’

‘You have a very nice face.’

‘It’s too fat.’

‘Mummy says that mine is starting to look too thin.’

‘Then I wish I knew how you managed it,’ said Iris, wistfully. ‘I’m eating less and getting more exercise but my weight keeps going up.’

‘We can’t all be the same.’

‘I’d just like to be attractive.’

‘You are,’ promised Alice. ‘Men are not blind. Sooner or later, one of them will notice. In fact, one of them already has. Joe said how good-looking you were.’

Iris rallied. ‘Did he?’

‘Yes, he did and he meant it.’

Though Alice was glad to put a broad smile back on her colleague’s face, the latest news worried her. Iris already wore her hat at the same angle as her and had picked up all of Alice’s favourite phrases. Having started using the same cosmetics as her when off duty, she was now planning to have a similar hairstyle. Iris was aping her in every way. There was an even more disturbing development to come.

‘How is your brother?’ asked Iris.

‘Oh, he’s … very much the same.’

‘Does he still spend all his time alone?’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘Then he needs a girlfriend, someone who could bring a spark into his life. What happened to him at the Somme was terrible. He needs help to get over it.’ Iris turned to her. ‘I’d love to meet him one day.’

Alice felt quietly horrified.

With the governor as his guide, Marmion followed the route that Wally Hubbard had taken. When they started outside the main door to one of the wings, the inspector noticed the bloodstains on the ground. That was the point where Pearce had been clubbed into unconsciousness. The storeroom to which he’d been carried or dragged was only a short distance away. It would have taken seconds to get there. In the gloom, nobody would have seen a thing. When they inspected the storeroom, Marmion saw some more blood spatters. Evidently, the warder had been hit very hard.

‘I’d like to question him, if I may, sir,’ said Marmion.

‘He’s still a bit groggy.’

‘Has he been able to tell you anything?’

‘Not really,’ said the governor. ‘He keeps mumbling apologies.’

‘The poor man must feel very guilty at what happened.’

‘Pearce must take some blame, Inspector. It was a bad mistake and a great pity. Until now, he had a spotless record.’

‘Is he a married man?’

‘Yes, his wife has been informed that we had a … spot of bother. We’re not letting her see her husband until he’s in slightly better shape.’ He extended a hand. ‘This way, Inspector …’

It was a fair walk to the hospital area but it gave Marmion the chance to see parts of Pentonville he’d never visited before. In the wake of the escape, security had been tightened. More officers were on duty and all prisoners had been kept locked in their cells. When they entered the room where the wounded man was being tended, they saw that he had dozed off. Pearce was in a sorry state. His head was encircled with thick bandaging and he’d acquired ugly bruises on his face as he’d struck the ground. One lip was badly swollen. The governor offered to rouse him but Marmion raised a hand, indicating that he was ready to wait until the warder woke up in his own time. He sat down beside the bed. Wilson-Smith left him alone with the patient and the nurse.

In the event, Pearce seemed to know that someone wanted to speak to him. His eyelids fluttered, his head moved and he slowly stirred. The nurse moved in to help him sit a little more upright.

‘Hello, Mr Pearce,’ said Marmion, gently. ‘I hate to bother you like this but you may be able to help us. I’m Inspector Marmion from Scotland Yard and my job is to catch the man who escaped.’

It was an effort for Pearce to speak. The words dribbled out slowly.

‘Wally Hubbard tricked me.’

‘So it seems.’

‘If it hadn’t been for my brother, it would never have happened.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Leslie was killed in combat in France, Inspector.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Pearce.’

‘Have you any idea what it feels like to lose a member of your family?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ explained Marmion, softly. ‘My father was murdered when he was on duty as a policeman. As for the war, my own son was injured at the Battle of the Somme and invalided back home. I know all about grief, believe me,’ he said, soulfully, ‘but that’s not to minimise what you’ve suffered. The news must have come as a shattering blow. Tell me about your brother.’

‘Leslie was a policeman before he joined up,’ said Pearce, fondly. ‘He always wanted a job with plenty of action. As soon as the war broke out, he enlisted like a shot. He thought we’d give the Germans a good hiding and that it would all be over by Christmas.’

‘A lot of people made the mistake of thinking that.’

‘The war dragged on and on and our lads died in their thousands. But Leslie was somehow untouched. He seemed to have a charmed life and walked away from every battle.’ His eyes moistened. ‘Then his luck ran out.’

‘How did you hear?’

‘We had a telegram. That’s what started it off, see.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I mentioned it to Hubbard. I told him about Leslie.’

‘And he pretended to be sympathetic, I daresay.’

‘Yes, he did,’ said Pearce, bitterly. ‘I know he committed a dreadful crime but he’s not rotten to the core like some of them. I’d never turn my back on most of the people in here, Inspector. It would be too risky. Wally Hubbard was different. He showed an interest. That’s why I told him about my plan. Because of what happened to my brother, I was thinking of joining up. To be honest, I could think of nothing else.’

‘So you were distracted when you let him out of his cell.’

‘I was – and this is the result.’

He touched the bandage and winced in pain. Marmion felt sorry for the man. Nursing a private sorrow, he’d made himself vulnerable and the prisoner had struck.

‘I could lose my job over this,’ said Pearce, sadly.

‘That’s very unlikely. The governor knows you have a good record here.’

‘I’d have expected it of Barter – but not Hubbard.’

‘What is his cellmate like?’

Pearce wrinkled his nose. ‘He’s the scum of the earth, Inspector,’ he said. ‘As soon as he’s released, he’ll go back to his old ways.’

‘How did Hubbard get on with him?’

Marmion probed him for details of anyone who seemed to have befriended Hubbard and who might conceivably have aided his escape. Pearce could think of nobody. Hubbard, he explained, had taken care to isolate himself.

‘He kept his head down, Inspector.’

‘Did anyone bother him?’

‘They wouldn’t dare. He was convicted of trying to burn someone to death. That gave him status. Respect is important in here. Compare him to Barter, who used to burgle houses in Stepney and snatch bags off old ladies. Nobody respected him.’

Pearce talked at length about life in Pentonville and how Hubbard had appeared to fit into it so easily. But he was not simply reviewing what had happened. He was slowly working his way towards an important decision.

‘My wife will just have to put up with it,’ he said at length.

‘Put up with what?’

‘I don’t care if I do get the sack.’

‘There’s no chance of that, I’m sure.’

‘I’ve finished with prison life for a while,’ said the warder, firmly. ‘If they don’t boot me out, I’ll resign. My place is in the trenches. Leslie can’t fight for this country any more but I certainly can.’

Marmion thought about his son’s situation and he quailed inwardly.

‘Whatever you decide,’ he said, quietly, ‘I wish you the best of luck.’

The visitors came earlier than expected but Ellen Marmion had everything ready. She’d got the best china tea set out and baked a cake for the occasion. Patricia Redwood belonged to the same sewing group as Ellen, meeting on a regular basis to exchange gossip about the war and to knit gloves and other items they deemed useful in the trenches. She was a fleshy woman with a habit of talking too loudly and laughing inappropriately. Her daughter, by contrast, was thin, flat-chested and desperately shy. Because of her ginger hair, she’d been known as Sally Redhead at school and Paul Marmion had been one of the boys who routinely used the irritating nickname. She was not looking forward to meeting him again and was clearly there under duress.

‘Sally was so keen to meet Paul after all this time,’ said her mother, clearly unaware of her daughter’s real feelings. ‘She hasn’t seen him for years.’

‘He’s changed a lot,’ warned Ellen.

‘Yes, he’s a war hero now, isn’t he?’

‘I don’t think that Paul would call himself that.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s upstairs in his room at the moment, Pat. I’m hoping that he’ll pop down in due course. Let’s have a cup of tea while we’re waiting, shall we?’

While Ellen made, then later poured, the tea, her friend delivered a non-stop monologue about the effects of wartime privations, letting out an incongruous laugh from time to time. Even when she was offered a slice of cake, she didn’t stop. She simply popped it into her mouth and carried on speaking.

‘If you ask me,’ she said, ‘these submarines are out to starve us all to death. You can’t fight a war on an empty stomach, that’s what I say. Everything will be rationed before long, mark my words. I’ve seen it coming.’

‘And what about you, Sally?’ asked Ellen, determined to bring her into the conversation. ‘What are you doing with yourself?’

‘Sally has a new job,’ said her mother, proudly.

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ replied the girl, nervously. ‘I start on Monday. It’s in Newsome’s, the jewellery shop in Queen Street.’

‘It shows how much they trust her,’ Patricia argued, ‘and it’s a big step up from Woolworth’s. Sally will meet a better class of customer.’

‘Are you looking forward to it?’ asked Ellen, deliberately aiming the question at the girl. Sally nodded. ‘What did they ask you at the interview?’

‘They just wanted to know what experience I’d had.’

‘They’ll train her,’ said the mother, pausing long enough to gulp down some tea. ‘Sally will learn about watches and jewellery, won’t you, dear?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

‘That was lovely cake, Ellen.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ellen, ‘would you like another slice?’

‘I think I can force another one down.’

Patricia Redwood rocked with laughter and her daughter gave an obliging titter. Ellen was already regretting the invitation she’d given them. Trying to reunite Paul and his old school friend had not been a good idea. He was hiding upstairs and Sally was shaking with trepidation at the prospect of meeting him again.

‘How is his eyesight now?’ asked Patricia.

‘It’s steadily improving,’ said Ellen.

‘Is he able to get around on his own?’

‘Oh, yes. Paul is very independent.’

‘Sally could always take him for a walk.’

The suggestion made Ellen squirm in her seat. It sounded as if Paul was a dog that needed to be taken out on a lead. She was grateful that he was not there to hear the suggestion. When she least expected it, however, she heard his bedroom door open and footsteps descending the stairs. Paul stuck his head into the living room.

‘I’m going out,’ he said.

‘But we have visitors,’ Ellen pointed out.

‘Yes, Sally and I came especially in the hope of seeing you,’ said Patricia with a girlish giggle. ‘You’re much bigger than I remember. What do you think, Sally?’

‘He looks much the same to me,’ the girl piped up. ‘Hello, Paul.’

‘Hello, Sally Redhead,’ he replied with a derisive sneer.

He disappeared at once, leaving the visitors shocked and his mother mortified.

‘You’ll have to forgive my son,’ she said, awkwardly. ‘He has moods …’

After some hours spent in Pentonville, the detectives had adjourned to a nearby cafe so that they could have a lunchtime snack and compare notes. Apart from his lawyer, only two people had visited Wally Hubbard in prison. The first had been an old friend of his, Felix Browne, who had owned a few pubs with Hubbard. They’d had great difficulty tracking him down because he always seemed to be one step ahead of them. It was late afternoon when they eventually cornered him in a small, terraced house that he’d just bought. Browne was supervising renovations to the property. He was a lanky individual with a flashy suit and long dark hair slicked down with brilliantine. At a glance, he knew that they were detectives. Marmion performed the introductions.

‘Wally told me about you two,’ he said.

Keedy smiled. ‘It’s always good to be mentioned in dispatches.’

‘You wouldn’t have said that if you’d heard what he called the pair