information to us.”
“I can’t imagine a judge giving him more than a stern wigging for that. Anyway, how could Craig have obtained such detailed information?”
“Simple,” Miller said. “He’s an electronics expert. Directional microphones, transistor transmitters the size of matchboxes, fountain pen receivers. You name it, he’s got it.”
“Nothing illegal in that considering the nature of his business.” Grant shook his head. “Proof, Nick — real proof. That’s what you need. You haven’t got it and you never will have unless I miss my guess.”
“All right,” Miller said. “You win. What about Vernon? Do we bring him in?”
Grant hesitated. “No, let him stew for a while. He’s always covered his tracks perfectly in the past so there’s no reason to think things will be any easier for us this time. If we’re going to get him, it must be through Morgan and his boys. Put two men on watch at his club and leave it at that for the moment.”
Brady knocked on the door and entered, a sheaf of teletype flimsies in his hand. “I thought I’d get the facts on all of them while I was at it. Our awkward friend is a bloke called Jack Fallon — a real tearaway. He’s even done time for manslaughter.”
“He certainly met his match this time,” Grant said.
Miller was reading the reports quickly and he suddenly frowned. “Cable Diamonds — that has a familiar sound.”
“It should have,” Brady said. “It was mentioned in that confidential file on Vernon that we got from C.R.O. in London. Another of the jobs he was supposed to be behind.”
Miller grinned. “You’re going to love this, sir,” he said to Grant and passed one of the flimsies across. “Joe Morgan was nicked for that job after getting clean away. He did five years, but the diamonds were never recovered.”
“He doesn’t seem to be having much luck with Max Vernon, does he?” Brady said.
Grant nodded and got to his feet. “Let’s go and remind him of that fact, shall we?”
CHAPTER 13
From one-thirty onwards Max Vernon knew in his heart that something had gone badly wrong. By two- fifteen he was sure of it. He poured himself a large brandy, went to his desk and flicked one of the switches on the intercom.
“Get in here, Ben.”
The door opened a few moments later and Carver entered. “Yes, Mr. Vernon?”
“Something’s up — they’re way over time. Take the car and go for a drive past Chatsworth’s. See if you can see any action.”
Carver nodded obediently and left and Vernon lit a cigarette and moved across to the fire. He stared down into the flames, a frown on his face. What could have possibly gone wrong? It didn’t make any kind of sense. The thing was foolproof.
The door swung open behind him and Carver came in looking pale and excited. “A couple of coppers out front, Mr. Vernon.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain — I can smell ’em a mile away. I’ll show you.”
Vernon followed him out into the corridor and Carver turned into the cloakroom and paused by the window. “I came in for my overcoat. Lucky I didn’t turn on the light.” He pointed across to the sycamore on the other side of the fence beyond the first street lamp. “There, in the shadows.”
“Yes, I’ve got them.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it stinks to high heaven,” Vernon said, and the telephone started to ring in the other room.
He moved back quickly, Carver at his heels, and stood by the desk looking down at the ’phone.
“It’s Morgan,” Carver said. “It has to be. Who else would be ringing in at this time in the morning?”
“We’ll see shall we? You take it on the extension.” Vernon lifted the receiver. “Max Vernon here.”
“That you, old man?” Craig’s voice rang mockingly in his ear. “I’m afraid Joe Morgan and his boys won’t be able to join you after all. They ran into a little trouble.”
Vernon sank down in his chair. “I’ll kill you for this, Craig.”
“You’ve had it,” Craig said cheerfully. “Joe Morgan and his boys are being squeezed dry at this very moment. How long do you think it will be before one of them spills his guts? You’re on borrowed time, Vernon.”
“As long as I’ve enough left for you that’s all I ask,” Vernon said.
“Sorry, old man. I’ve decided to take myself off into the country for a couple of days’ shooting. Nothing like a change of pace. If you want me, you’ll have to come looking.”
He was still chuckling as Vernon slammed down the receiver. Carver replaced the extension ’phone, a bewildered look on his face. “But how could he have known?”
“How the hell do I know? Another of his damned gadgets probably.”
“What do we do now?”
“Get out while the going’s good — on foot the back way. I’ve got an old Ford brake parked in a lock-up garage on the other side of the river. I always did believe in covering every eventuality.”
“Where are we going, Mr. Vernon — Ireland?”
“You can if you like. I can manage a couple of hundred. That should see you through.”
“What about you?”
Vernon unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a Luger pistol. “I’ve got an account to settle.”
“With Craig? You don’t even know where he’s going.”
“I shouldn’t imagine I’ll have any difficulty in finding out.”
Carver frowned in bewilderment. “I don’t get it.”
“A challenge, Benny. A challenge — something you wouldn’t understand.”
“You mean Craig wants you to follow him?”
Vernon opened the wall safe and took out a black cash box. “That’s the general idea.” He returned to his desk with the cash box and unlocked it. “This is what he’s been aiming at from the beginning — him and me in a final showdown, but he’s made a big mistake.” When Vernon smiled he looked like the Devil incarnate. “I was a good man in the jungle, Ben — the best there was. Craig’s still got to find that out.”
He opened the cash box, tossed two packets of fivers across and started to fill his pockets with the rest. “There’s two hundred there and good luck to you.”
Carver shook his head slowly and threw the money back. “We’ve been together a long time, Mr. Vernon. I’m not dropping out now.”
Vernon stared at him incredulously. “Loyalty at this stage, Ben?” And then he laughed harshly and clapped him on the shoulder. “All right then. Let’s see if we can’t show the bastard a thing or two.”
“But who turned you in, Morgan, that’s what I can’t understand?” Miller said.
It was just after four a.m. and the pale green walls of the Interrogation Room seemed to float out of the shadows, unreal and transitory as if they might disappear at any moment.
Joe Morgan sat at the plain wooden table under a strong central light that made him look old and sunken. Brady leaned against the wall near the window and a young constable stood stolidly in the corner.
“Nobody turned us in. The whole thing went sour, that’s all.”
“Then who closed the strongroom door on you and Martin?”
“I don’t know — maybe it just slammed shut.”
“All right, miracles sometimes happen. That still doesn’t explain how we found Jack Fallon lying beaten and unconscious in the passageway.”
