Читать книгу Standish Gets His Man - Percy Francis Westerman - Страница 6
ОглавлениеIntroducing Mike Doran
What motives had induced Mike Doran and Toni Pergelli to forsake the Land of the Almighty Dollar and to seek fresh pastures in Great Britain?
Actually it was a combination of circumstances. Primarily the G-men had made Chicago too hot for this enterprising couple even though they had aimed to become amongst the first half dozen of America's public enemies.
A weird sense of vanity prompted them to try their luck in England, where, according to what they had heard, transgressors against the law were poor stuff compared with the toughs on the other side of the Herring Pond. The British policeman, in their opinion, was "easy meat", relying upon measures very mild compared with the shoot-at-sight methods of the American cops. And, of course, the British public did not know how to defend itself since the civil population do not go about with automatics in their hip-pockets.
Mike and Toni imagined that they could handle a bunch of British civilians like a flock of sheep.
Doran was in his late twenties. He had graduated at Princetown University, but quickly drifted into the underworld. It was somewhat remarkable that although he had an American accent his speech differed widely from the mongrel English as spoken by the gunmen of Chicago. Nevertheless he had acquired a reputation as a daring and cold-blooded killer and had already eight murders to his record.
In appearance he was of middle height and of slim build. There was nothing remarkable about his features except that his eyes were set rather closely together. Beneath a commonplace exterior Doran concealed an astonishing alertness of body and mind. In tight corners he kept remarkably cool and collected and it was this fact that enabled him to extricate himself from many a difficult situation.
Toni Pergelli was built on a different mould. The son of an Italian father and a Polish mother—like many another citizen of the United States claiming to be one hundred per cent American—he had started upon his career of crime when only fifteen years of age. That was five years ago.
In appearance he was short, heavily built and swarthy; temperamentally he was quick and excitable. Thus the two bandits acted as foils to each other in many respects, although when they "got busy" they were admirably suited to undertake the cold-blooded and often sordid crimes that had already gained them a sinister reputation.
Obviously two American gangsters working alone in a strange country would be heavily handicapped. Accomplices were necessary; and since Doran and Pergelli were well equipped with funds, these were easy to obtain.
Three months before the gunmen's departure from the States, a self-styled Canadian—actually a native of Detroit—arrived at Liverpool accompanied by his wife and three hefty sons. They had with them two men servants and a chauffeur.
Mr. Ambrose Montgomery—for that was the name he had assumed—was a big burly man with engaging manners. His story that he had made his pile in wheat and had come across the Atlantic to settle in the Old Country was accepted on its face value.
For a mere song he purchased a derelict mansion in an out-of-the-way part of Cannock Chase. Geographically it was not far from the accepted centre of England. It was within seven or eight hours' car distance from Berwick, Dover and Penzance, and only a matter of an hour or so by air from either of these towns.
Once installed in Backdarley Manor, Mr. Ambrose Montgomery got busy in anticipation of the time when his employers, Doran and Pergelli, should arrive to embark upon the business of shooting their way through England and getting away with a goodly pile.
One of the first of Ambrose Montgomery's improvements was to convert a spacious barn into a hangar. Since Backdarley Manor lies in a hollow surrounded by tree-clad hills it served admirably as a secret barn for aeroplanes. Unless the homing machine was spotted from the air it would appear, through the eyes of an observer on the ground, to be passing over the house, owing to the interception of the surrounding hills.
Dead on time, Doran and his accomplice arrived at Backdarley Manor by air.
Their monoplane was of unique design. Built by a well-known American firm ostensibly to the order of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for service in the North-West territories, it possessed a flying radius of three thousand miles at a cruising speed of two hundred and twenty miles an hour. It was not a large machine, but it was remarkable for its narrow wing-span, the wings being disproportionately broad and acutely set in relation to the centre line of the fuselage. It was propelled by two engines, placed one on each side of the fuselage and almost amidships. Each motor was provided with a long shaft and was pivoted at right angles to the fore and aft centre line. Thus, in a few seconds, the machine could be converted into a full-powered helicopter capable of being brought almost vertically to earth and landing safely in a space no larger than a tennis court. Once it was on the ground the wings could be removed in a very little time, by merely unlocking two intercepted threads on each.
In this machine Doran and Pergelli left the state of Michigan. They were provided with false passports and other documents that purported they were John Blenkinsop and Dexter van Huyler, citizens of the United States, and engaged upon a leisurely aerial world tour. Amongst their baggage was nothing that would excite the suspicions of the most alert Customs officer.
They flew to Europe via the Azores and alighted on the outskirts of Liège. Here, since the restrictions on the sale of arms in Belgium are lax, they bought a dozen sub-machine-guns, half a dozen automatics, and two thousand rounds of ammunition. Also they had no difficulty in getting hold of a number of tear-gas bombs. Such crude articles as sticks of gelignite they left severely alone; they were out-and-out gunmen, not safe cracksmen.
That night they alighted, the tide being out, on one of the numerous sandbanks between the Friesian Islands and the mainland. Here they repainted the machine with quick-drying paint until, devoid of identification marks, it was cleverly camouflaged so as to be invisible from the air when resting on the ground.
Next they had to run the gauntlet of the patrolling machines of the Royal Air Constabulary. This they did by crossing over the east coast between Harwich and Lowestoft at an altitude of nineteen thousand feet. Favoured by a following wind, they shut off both engines and glided with very little loss of altitude until they were over Ely.
Thanks to recent regulations issued by the Air Ministry, to the effect that all towns in Great Britain with a population of ten thousand persons and more must display a large illuminated sign bearing the name of the place, the gunmen had no difficulty in finding their way.
An hour before sunrise, guided by pre-arranged signals from Backdarley Manor, Doran and Pergelli arrived at this base of operations.
They had no intention of using the 'plane except as a means of effecting a quick get-away. A swift car—and there were plenty to be had owing to the happy-go-lucky habits of a vast section of the British motoring public—would be their chief ally. It took them two days' practice to enable the gunmen to accustom themselves to the insular prejudices of Britishers, who in contrast to the practice in almost every other country, drive on the left-hand side of the road. Traffic signals they learnt with a view to ignoring when they commenced operations.
Next day came the Brackley affair—a typical example of the brutal and callous methods of gangsterdom.
Doran and his accomplice drew up outside the bank during the lunch hour. The cashier, thinking that the levelled automatics were toy weapons, attempted to hurl a paper-weight at Doran's head. Before he could raise his arm the gangster fired, seriously wounding the devoted official. The junior clerk, ignoring Toni's warning, rushed to the cashier's aid, only to be felled by the gunman's knuckleduster.
Coins the bandits ignored. They were too bulky and too heavy to risk removing. Helping themselves to all the notes on which they could lay their hands, they got away without molestation. A few minutes later, Doran vaingloriously telegraphed to Scotland Yard from Northampton—entrusting the message to a chance errand boy—announcing the disturbing fact that American gunmen had commenced operations on British soil.
To a certain extent Doran's telegram assisted him in his "get-away". The authorities at Scotland Yard regarded the message as a hoax, never thinking that the American gangster would have the colossal nerve to advertise his initial crime on this side of the Herring Pond.
Consequently, when a message arrived from the Brackley police—if acted upon promptly the net would have been cast with excellent prospects of success—too much precious time was wasted in deciding whether this wire was also in the nature of a practical joke.
When at length "The Yard" did get busy, Doran and his accomplice were for the time being safe from pursuit.
Then came the astounding bank robbery at York, an attempt that, though successful, very nearly put a final stopper to the nefarious activities of Mike Doran and Co.
