juggle with them, the more emphatic they become. It was an organized killing, an act carried out by a group of some description… who knows?’
The grey eyes slid up and fastened on Gently’s, holding him, commanding him.
‘A political killing, Inspector. The execution of a traitor… that’s my reading of the situation. Your man was a fugitive. He chose Starmouth for his haven. But the organization he had betrayed found him out and exacted justice… doesn’t that seem to fit what we know?’
Gently blew an exquisite ring.
‘I think it does… better than any other interpretation. I hope I’m wrong — for your sake, Inspector. I believe these political killings are planned with a care which makes detection onerous and arrests unlikely. But the odds seem to lie that way… at least to my amateur way of thinking.’
The smile strayed back into the magnetic eyes and Louey part snuffed, part sucked a tremendous inhalation of smoke.
‘I’d like you to know I appreciate your difficulties,’ he concluded, spilling smoke as he talked. ‘My admiration for your abilities won’t be lessened, Inspector… what can be done by the police in these cases I am sure you will do.’
Gently nodded towards a peak in Darien. Then he reached for the photograph, pulled out his pen and drew on the matt surface a clumsy circle divided by a line. Without looking he handed it to Louey. The big man took it and stared at it.
‘Is this something I should know about?’ he inquired softly.
Gently lofted a careless shoulder. ‘You were wearing it on your ring last night.’
‘My ring?’ Louey extended his hand to display his solitaire.
‘The one you were wearing last night.’
Louey hesitated a split second and then laughed. ‘No, Inspector, you are mistaken… this is the only ring I wear. Tell him, Peachey, tell him… I wear this diamond to impress the clients… eh?’
The miserable Peachey contrived to nod.
‘They like to do business with a man of substance… it’s paid for itself over and over again.’
Gently turned towards him. There was a glint of excitement in the masterful, smiling eyes.
‘So you see, you were mistaken, Inspector… you do see that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ murmured Gently, ‘I see it very plainly indeed.’
He didn’t have far to go outside before he was joined by Dutt. The sergeant’s cockney visage had a glum expression which told Gently all there was to know…
‘No pigeon, Dutt… the dovecote was empty.’
‘That’s right, sir. Not a flipping feather.’
‘I got the impression it might be. Everyone was so pleased to see me. A pity, Dutt. I get more and more interested in that laddie.’
‘We could put out a portrait parley, sir. He shouldn’t be difficult to pick up.’
‘I wonder, Dutt. My feeling is that he’s a bit of a traveller… it’s the docks and airports that’ll need an eye kept on them. On the other hand…’
‘Yessir?’
‘If he’s the bird I think him, it’s a matter of some curiosity why he’s hung around here so long already.’
‘You mean you know who he is, sir?’
‘I wouldn’t put my hand to my heart, Dutt. I’m of a suspicious character, like all good policemen. And then again… it doesn’t do to overestimate. There’s one thing, though: I want a sound sure ruling on the origin of that circle with a line through it.’
‘You mean that little charm, sir?’ queried Dutt, brightening.
‘I do indeed, Dutt — that little charm.’
‘Well, sir, I can tell you that right off the cuff… it came to me as I was standing there watching, sir. I knew I’d seen it before, like I said when we found it.’
‘Go on, man… stop beating about the bush!’
‘It’s the sign of the TSK Party, sir — I come across it when I was attached to the Special.’
Gently halted under the blaze of one of the multicoloured standards that afforested the Front. ‘And what,’ he inquired, ‘do we know about TSK Parties, Dutt?’
‘Not a darn sight, sir,’ replied Dutt, ‘not if you put it like that. It’s a sort of Bolshie outfit — they reckoned it picked up where the old Bolshie boys left off. They didn’t even know wevver Joe was backing it or not — sort of freelance it was, if you get me. That Navy sabotage business was TSK. We had some US Federal men attached to us — they’ve had a lot of trouble with them in the States.’
‘The States!’ echoed Gently, ‘It’s always the States. Have you noticed, Dutt, how the American eagle keeps worrying us as we go about our quiet Central Office occasions?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
The flap was still on at headquarters, in fact it had stepped up considerably during Gently’s absence. There were lights on where they were usually off at such an hour, cars parked that ought to have been garaged and policemen due off duty, still buzzing around like (as Dutt rather coarsely described it) ‘blue-arsed flies’. Gently, going down the corridor, was nearly bowled over by an impetuous Copping clutching a file.
‘We’ve picked up the boyo who passed that note!’ exclaimed the Borough Police maestro, sorting himself out. ‘He’s a skipper from up north — he’s lousy with them — and what a yarn he’s spun! They must think we’re cracked, trying to pull gags like that. But the super’ll give him a going over he won’t forget in a hurry!’
Gently sniffed a little peevishly. ‘Don’t think I’m frivolous… I’m still trying to keep my mind on the crime before the last. Did your man get some prints?’
‘Oh, the prints! He got a couple of sets that didn’t tally with anything we’ve got.’
‘A couple?’
‘That’s right… one lot on the suitcase and one on the window-frame. They turned up in other places, too, but those were the best impressions.’
‘He compared them with Mrs W’s and the rest, of course?’
‘We know a little bit about the job…!’
‘And you’ve sent them to town?’
‘Right away, as per instructions.’
Gently fished out his wallet and extracted from it the doctored photograph. ‘I want this printed now… is your man still around? He’ll find mine on it amongst some others, but he needn’t bother about them
…’
Dutt was despatched with the photograph and Gently accompanied Copping to the super’s office. That austere abode, always impressive, was now fairly crackling with forensic atmosphere. The super sat behind his desk as stiff as a ramrod. At a discreet distance a sergeant was ensconced at a table, taking down some details. At the same table sat a constable with a shorthand book and three pencils. On the door was a second constable, uneasily at ease. The focus of all this talent, a fresh-complexioned middle-aged man, had been arranged on a chair in the geometrical centre of the office: he sat there with a nervous awkwardness, like a member of an audience suddenly hoicked up on to the stage.
The super nodded to Gently as the latter entered and motioned him to take a seat. ‘You’ll excuse me, Inspector… I’m rather busy. I’d like a conference with you later, if you don’t mind waiting.’
Gently inclined his head and sat down at the less congested end of the office. Copping delivered the file and appended himself to the end of the super’s desk.
‘Dalhoosie Road,’ spelled out the sergeant. ‘McKinky amp; Mucklebrowse Ltd, Potleekie Street, Frazerburgh. I think that’s the lot, sir. It checks with the ship’s papers.’
The super stiffened himself a few more degrees. ‘Now, McParsons… I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say. I’m charging you with being in possession and uttering a counterfeit United States banknote,
