aftermath…’
‘So you think we should tell Probst about it?’ Sir Wilfred no longer seemed so opposed to the notion. ‘Very well. At least it will keep our German colleagues occupied. You realize this whole business may come to a head this afternoon?’ He shot a piercing glance at Sinclair.
‘Only too well, sir. But in the meantime we should continue conducting the investigation in a normal way. The Surrey police have been informed of Beezy’s revelations – Madden rang them first. They’re putting the Sussex force in the picture and will see to it that the Dorset police retrieve the tramp’s body. It’s only right we should tell the Germans about it, as well.’
The concession wrung from the assistant commissioner had made Sinclair’s final meeting with the Berlin policeman more agreeable than those that had preceded it, when he’d had to guard against giving any indication that Scotland Yard had any information about the case it was not prepared to divulge. Indeed, once or twice, detecting what he thought might be humour in the inspector’s cool, unrevealing glance, he’d wondered whether Probst had guessed as much. If he’d been surprised by the unusually detailed accounts offered him of the investigations currently under way – a case of over-egging the pudding in the chief inspector’s jaundiced view – he’ d contrived not to show it.
‘That is most interesting. The connections with our own case are multiplying. I feel we are drawing closer to our man.’ Probst had listened raptly to what Sinclair had had to tell him. ‘And just who is this John Madden?’
‘A former colleague. A fine detective. He took it into his head to become a farmer, though. More’s the pity. Connections, you said. What did you have in mind, exactly?’
‘Our witness’s account of the man removing his shirt seems to be borne out here. Perhaps this is also part of his ritual. The battering he gives his victims’ faces would be bound to produce a spray of blood. He’s fastidious, perhaps. Or just practical.’
‘The birthmark – if it’s a birthmark – could be on his face.’
‘Not if he’s the man who was seen eating lunch in that roadside hotel. A mark like that would certainly have been recalled by at least some of the witnesses. No, it suggests a blood-coloured stain on his body to me.’ Probst had risen from his chair in front of Sinclair’s desk and was pacing up and down. ‘He is washing the blood off his arms and chest – that’s where most of it would fall. The blood comes off, but the birthmark remains. The tramp could hardly have had a clear view. He must have been in hiding…’
‘Yes, it’s established he was deaf, so it’s likely he didn’t hear the murderer approaching until he was almost on him. He’d have had to find what cover he could in the undergrowth.’ Sinclair was catching some of his visitor’s enthusiasm for the hunt. ‘And then there’s the question of the stream…’
‘Ah, yes… the stream.’ Probst paused in his pacing to cast an eye on the chief inspector. ‘He chooses these places with care, it seems, and there’s always water nearby. He’s quite cold-blooded in his approach, no matter how frenzied he may become later. This is a man of unusual self-control.’ The inspector brooded. ‘Is this a way we can track him down, do you think?’
‘By his birthmark, you mean? If he has one.’ It had taken Sinclair a moment to catch up with the other’s train of thought. ‘Difficult, I should say.’
‘Yes…’ Probst examined his own proposition, frowning. ‘After all, who does a man take his clothes off for? His wife or mistress, certainly. But we doubt this killer has either.’
An image of Philip Vane’s thin, mask-like features came into the chief inspector’s mind at that moment. His discreet inquiries, which had not ceased during the days they’d had to wait to secure their interview with him, had revealed that the man was a bachelor. Recollection of this fact now caused an involuntary spasm to cross his face. It went unnoticed. Probst was still wrestling with the question he’d raised.
‘His doctor, perhaps?’
They got no further in their speculations. Glancing at his watch, Sinclair saw that it was time to leave and five minutes later they were joined in the lobby downstairs by Arthur Holly, who had indicated his desire to accompany them to the station.
At Victoria, the chief super disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a selection of newspapers and a bar of chocolate which he pressed on their visitor.
‘Something for the journey, Inspector.’ He seemed intent on making up for any shortcomings in his earlier behaviour towards their guest. ‘It’s been a pleasure to have you with us.’
He ushered Probst aboard the train and waved a last goodbye to him through the carriage window.
‘Quite an impressive fellow, I thought.’ Holly watched as the train pulled out of the station, sealing his words with a quiet rumble of approval. ‘For a foreigner, that is.’
It was a large concession on the chief super’s part, but one that failed to register with his companion. Sinclair’s thoughts, not without trepidation, were already on the call that he and Sir Wilfred Bennett would be making at the Foreign Office that afternoon.
‘Chief Inspector… come in.’ Bennett gestured to a chair in front of his desk and Sinclair sat down, curious to know why he’d been summoned. Their meeting with Vane had been set for three o’clock and he’d been expecting to meet his superior down in the lobby fifteen minutes before the hour so that they could make the short trip to Whitehall together. Instead, he had received a message saying the assistant commissioner wanted to see him before they set out. It was now a quarter past two.
‘I’ve something to say to you…’ Bennett rose. Gesturing to Sinclair to remain seated, he went from his desk over to the windows by the conference table, where he stood, hands on hips, looking out into the grey November day. ‘I realize you feel I’ve been unnecessarily obstructive where Philip Vane is concerned… no, there’s no need to deny it.’ He waved away the instinctive protest that came to the chief inspector’s lips.
‘Your attitude was quite understandable. I should have felt the same in your position. But there are issues at stake here of which you’re unaware and on which, up to now, I’ve not felt in a position to enlighten you.’ He looked directly at Sinclair. ‘However, the situation has changed. Since we’re to speak to Vane together, it’s necessary that you should know what I know… or at any rate suspect.’ He bit his lip. ‘But this must remain between us, and that includes the chief superintendent. I’ve told him I don’t want to overwhelm Vane with numbers – that a deputation of three from the Yard might seem like an attempt to cow him. But in fact I have another reason, and I can only hope he hasn’t taken offence.’
Sinclair smiled. ‘Arthur’s not given to taking offence, sir. The word equable might have been coined to fit him.’
‘How very true…’ Sir Wilfred’s smile eased the tension between them for a moment. Turning from the window, he came back to his desk and sat down. ‘Not everything one learns in government comes through official channels, Chief Inspector. Some things are not written down, or even communicated directly. One picks them up from hints dropped in conversation. Do you follow me?’
‘Up to a point, sir.’ Sinclair sat still.
‘As I think I mentioned, I’ve met Philip Vane on a few occasions. I’ve also heard his name mentioned… in some unexpected quarters. Naturally, I was curious, and I asked questions…’ He shrugged. ‘Answers were not forthcoming. But hints were dropped…’ Bennett cleared his throat.
‘My reluctance to see him dragged into this inquiry doesn’t stem only from a desire to avoid any scandal,’ he said. ‘I can’t give you chapter and verse, Chief Inspector. I can only tell you what I strongly suspect: that Vane’s job at the Foreign Office is not what it seems. In reality I believe he’s a senior intelligence officer.’
19
‘Mr Vane will see you now.’
The young man rose from behind his desk in the anteroom and went to an inner door. The very epitome of diplomatic tact, he had apologized gracefully to Bennett and Sinclair when they’d arrived for the austere conditions of his tiny office. Taking their hats and coats, he’d invited them, again with an apology, to sit down in two straight- backed chairs of civil service issue while he reported their presence to his superior.
It was the first time the chief inspector had set foot in the Foreign and Colonial Office and his impressions thus far had been fleeting. The marble-floored entrance below had been imposing enough, as were the uniformed
