been placed on it. One was Outdoor Events, June. The others, each clearly marked on a tab, were all precisely described. One startled him: Superintendent Lemaitre: River Death Inquiry.
Lem certainly hadn’t been long and as certainly hadn’t been here, so this must have been put here by Gideon’s own deputy — Deputy Commander Alec Hobbs. So, of course had the others; all hang-over cases on which Yard men were working, some in London, some with Regional and County Borough police forces co-operating with the Metropolitan area. Apart from Lemaitre’s case, there appeared to be no new ones in, which meant that none of the overnight crimes had persuaded Hobbs that it merited Gideon’s personal attention. Only occasionally was Hobbs wrong.
He glanced through seven reports. Two bank robberies, a case of arson, a fraud case, an assault charge involving a woman against a woman, but not particularly serious. He looked through the rest saw nothing new in any of them, pushed the last one aside and dialled the number of the office next to his own. Hobbs was within a few feet, but Gideon didn’t want to see him yet; just wanted a little clarification.
Hobbs answered promptly.
“Good morning, sir.”
“What kind of a morning?” asked Gideon.
“Nothing of particular importance,” Hobbs answered, in his controlled and completely assured way. He was the other end of the scale from Lemaitre; Repton and Cambridge, very much the English gentleman. More a Scott- Marie type than a Gideon although they had come to know, like, and admire each other. “No one has specifically asked to see you and practically everything else is routine — except, of course, Lemaitre’s problem.”
“I’ve no appointments,” Gideon told him. “Have Lem over here by half-past eleven, say. He’s to call at ten.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And come in as soon as you’re through briefing,” said Gideon, and rang off.
Hobbs, although he had been deputy for a comparatively short time, had made a great difference to Gideon. It was a change which had come gradually and ostensibly at his, Gideon’s, instruction, but occasionally he wondered how much Hobbs steered him. At one time, Gideon himself would have interviewed every senior officer in charge of an investigation, not content to allow Lemaitre to handle major cases. Now, Hobbs did much of the briefing, and Gideon had come to rely on his judgment completely. This was largely because if Hobbs had any doubt at all as to the right course of action, he invariably consulted Gideon before making a move.
Gideon studied the few details there were, in Lemaitre’s report.
The dead man’s name was Charles Blake — good lord, little Charlie Blake! Gideon had known him on and off for twenty years; a perky little man who lived more on the fringe of crime than on crime itself. He would have thought him harmless enough. He was less an informer than a man who simply could not help talking to someone if he had any inside information, and he could be called a ‘friend’ of Lemaitre. There was nothing here that Lemaitre hadn’t told him. He put the report aside and glanced through Outdoor Events — June, then telephoned the Superintendent of AB Division, a Charles Henry, fairly young and fairly new to the command of one of London’s most important divisions, which included the whole of Hampstead as well as St. John’s Wood.
“Good morning, Commander.”
“Morning, Chas,” Gideon greeted him. “I heard a rumour last night that there might be a major demonstration at Lords for the second Test. You heard anything?”
There was a momentary silence, as if they had been cut off.
.”You there?” Gideon asked, sharply.
“Yes,” Henry said, in a curiously flat voice. “Sorry, sir — I was a bit taken aback. I didn’t expect you to be in the picture already.”
“If there’s a picture, why haven’t you shown it to me?” demanded Gideon.
“I’d planned to call later today,” Henry answered defensively. “There is a plan to raid Lords. I haven’t all the details yet, but I’ve a report due this afternoon. I-er—” Henry broke off again. Obviously Gideon’s request had utterly disconcerted him. Gideon, very pleased that the Force had not been taken unawares, gave him time to recover, and soon Henry spoke with much more confidence: “I’ve had one of our young women on the look-out, sir. She was seconded from NE, so that she wouldn’t be recognised here, and she’s joined a group of hot-heads. Pretty girl, looks years younger than her age. I always felt there might be serious trouble over this second Test.”
“Go on,” urged Gideon.
“There’s a lot of hot air,” said Henry. “And this girl’s given us a few tips on which we’ve taken no action-she wanted to make sure no one suspected her. And she’s now on what they call the Action Committee.”
“Ah!” said Gideon, with real satisfaction tinged only vaguely with anxiety.
“Last night, apparently, they talked of this raid on Lords. She put in a report at four o’clock this morning, and isn’t due in again until two.”
“Bright girl,” Gideon approved. “No danger, is there?”
“Danger of what, sir?”
“For her?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Henry, perhaps a little too briskly.
“Call me when she’s reported,” ordered Gideon, and rang off.
That last ‘Oh, I don’t think so’, was one he didn’t much like. Either Henry was being too casual, or else he did think the girl could be in danger but didn’t want to say so. It was a big mistake to take too much on oneself, and Henry might be tempted to. Gideon made a mental note that it might be a good thing to go and see both the Superintendent and the girl, that afternoon. It would put Henry on his toes and yet shouldn’t alarm the girl. The more he thought, the more Gideon wondered at the startled silence which had followed his first enquiry — could Henry have been planning some kind of coup, to spring on Gideon with an ‘aren’t I the clever one’ attitude? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
