The Old Vengeful

though I reckon he'd like fine to take over the late Commander Hugh Loftus's custom . . . And Lippy would have advised your dad against that, in any case. But. . . Ray Tuck has got big ears—'

'You haven't talked to Ray Tuck?' cut in Mitchell.

'If I had, then I wouldn't be guessing, I can tell you,' said Del grimly. 'But no ... Ray Tuck is 'unavailable' at the moment.

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And we've got a three-line whip out on him ... so my only fear is that he's drifting on the tide somewhere around Wapping Stairs, after what you did yesterday, Dr Mitchell. Because I'm pretty sure it was Danny Kahn who contracted Oakenshaw to do this job—no proof, just m.o. and past history . . . Because I think that just recently Ray Tuck sold everything he knew about Commander Loftus, lock, stock and barrel, to Danny Kahn on a payment- by-results basis.'

'Why just recently?' said Mitchell.

'Because I don't think Ray Tuck knew who his Uncle's valued old friend was until just very recently,' said Del. 'To be exact

—until his old friend died.'

'You're not telling us that he read The Times obituary, man

—' Mitchell began incredulously.

Del grinned at him. 'Your trouble, Dr Mitchell, is that you read the wrong newspaper. Because, while The Times had a boring obituary, the Sun has a luscious nude on page three—

and a bloody marvellous picture of young naval officers and old ex- Vengeful heroes on page five, with a sorrowing veiled daughter, and her address, near enough . . . and a nice picture of Loftus of the Vengeful himself for good measure—

a very neat piece of nostalgia on a day when there wasn't much hard news . . . Apart from which, the same touching scene was picked up on both BBC and ITN local news, partly because it was photogenic, and partly because of the row he made about the Vengeful's, renaming a year or two back—'

'So what do you deduce from all that?' said Mitchell sharply.

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'I deduce, Dr Mitchell, that Ray Tuck saw it—or read it ...

doesn't matter which . . . and then he knew at last who the golden goose was—that's what I deduce. And because he hadn't time to suck the eggs, because of the way Danny's leaning on him for his money, he sold the whole goose—beak, feathers, gizzard, daughter and all. An' Danny reacted predictably, by not wanting to go on from wherever Lippy left off, just taking his cut like any honest villain, but going for the whole goose too. Because he's a greedy sod, an' because he's got his own troubles, with the recession, like any other businessman, and he's in need of capital just now.'

'Why did he call in Oakenshaw, though?' asked Paul. 'Why didn't he do the job himself?'

'Ah . . . now that's where the real guesswork comes in—

though to my mind it also strengthens the rest of it.' Del paused for a moment, first considering Mitchell, then Elizabeth. 'Now, I don't know what your dad was up to, dear

—it was dodgy, but I don't know what it was anywhere near, or how it fits in with what Dr Audley there wants . . . except that the name Vengeful comes into it somewhere . . . But I suspect it's not going to be easy to suss out, either way, an' I reckon Danny came to the same conclusion. Because, as I say, Danny's not stupid ... an' after he'd thought about what Ray Tuck gave him I think he decided that he needed real brains—trained, analytical brains ... a scholar, if you like. An'

that. . . apart from being a nasty-little murdering, torturing swine . . . was what Master Julian Oakenshaw was. An'

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Danny knew it, because he'd used Oakenshaw before, according to the skipper at Tower Bridge nick.'

'So where's Danny Kahn now?'

'That's the next piece that fits in,' Del nodded. 'Because Danny's gone to ground too, like Ray Tuck. 'Off on holiday in foreign parts', his Number Two says. An' no forwarding address because he doesn't want to be disturbed, 'cause he's been working so hard, an' needs a complete rest.' Del's lip curled. 'But he was still around yesterday, and he hasn't taken his latest girl-friend with him. So my next guess is that, with Julian Oakenshaw not surfacing— and Steve Donahue and Willie Fullick also absent without leave . . . and me going through the Jolly Caulkers like the fear of God . . . Danny's running scared too. Because he'll not only know the Old Bill is asking about Lippy and Ray Tuck, but with his contacts he may even know that I'm no longer the same Old Bill he knows and loves, but one of the funnies from the Special Branch who can be a whole lot meaner.'

'And what are the chances of finding him?'

'Of finding Danny, Dr Mitchell? Slim . . . Danny's the sort that's smart enough to plan for a rainy day, is the Tower Bridge opinion. But with Ray Tuck, we've got a better chance

—assuming that he hasn't already gone to the great dole queue in the sky—because no one's scared of him, like of Danny . . . and there's still one or two of Lippy's old mates that'd like to see 'im cut down to size for takin' Lippy's name in vain—Ray Tuck don't count as family any more, that's dummy3

going to be his epitaph if Danny Kahn hasn't carved it on 'im already.'

Paul Mitchell drew a deep breath, almost a sigh. 'I don't see how we're going to get anywhere without one of them.' He looked towards Audley. 'And if Danny Kahn is in with Novikov by any remote chance . . . which I still frankly doubt . . . then they both know more than we do, David. So whatever you're planning for Elizabeth—I don't like it. Our best bet is to keep her under wraps, and let Del here have his head, and give him all the manpower he needs.'

That was one score to Paul's credit, thought Elizabeth, observing both men through the candlelight across the table.

Because Del Andrew and Paul Mitchell were chalk and cheese, and sculptured by their backgrounds to be competitors even though they were on the same side; and also, doing nothing would be as much against Paul's