Читать книгу The Adventures of Thadeus Burke Vol 1 - Terry Minahan - Страница 5

Immediately upon completing a modest breakfast of tea, toast and marmalade, Thadeus telephoned Inspector Jackson. He questioned him on the subject of the bottle of Drambuie. Jackson tried to go off at tangents regarding the events of the previous day, and other facts about Sir Percy Dennington, but Thadeus remained disciplined and eventually obtained the following specific facts: Drambuie is manufactured in two sizes of bottle, the full bottle and the half bottle – Sir Percy’s bottle had been the half bottle; it appeared to have been full of liquid, except for a couple of glassfuls; there was only one drinking glass at the scene – a Waterford Crystal small brandy balloon – the glass was of the same make and design as the drinking vessels used in the main house; the ‘scene’, incidentally, had been Sir Percy’s office, which was actually a converted horse’s loose box. Thadeus had requested full details of this at a later date! Thadeus thanked Jackson for the information and made a note of their next luncheon appointment, which would be subject to confirmation when he consulted the Burke & Co diary at his office.

He next consulted the label on the near empty Drambuie half-bottle that stood, for some strange reason, on the floor of the kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to ignore Hilton’s extravagant preparation of breakfast for his beloved sister, and engaged in some simple arithmetic.

A half-bottle equals one-half litre – information supplied by the label on the Drambuie bottle. A mouthful could be measured at 25 ml – information supplied by Freddie. The number of mouthfuls per half-bottle equals twenty; information calculated by the Cambridge graduate using a method called ‘simple division’.

Freddie’s bacon was beginning to smell very appetizing!

Somewhere at the back of Thadeus’ memory was the information about fatal dosage of arsenic but the active part of his mind was devoted to assessing the number of bacon rashers required to stabilize his equilibrium.

He instructed Hilton to set aside three or four slices of Norfolk best-back for his second breakfast, at which he would join his sister, as he felt it would be impolite to allow a guest in his house to eat alone. Hilton raised his eyes to the ceiling, speechless.

Freed of any further distraction the answer to the dosage question popped back into his mind: 250 mg, that is a quarter of a gram, multiply that by twenty and the answer is 5 g – less than a quarter of an ounce! Not a huge amount in general terms, but enough to frighten a chemist Thadeus thought.

Freddie confirmed this opinion over eggs, bacon and tomatoes a few minutes later.

Within the next four weeks Burke & Company started to flourish. The General Strike was still looming, but more of that later. Thadeus had built up quite a substantial portfolio of general non-marine business, country houses, factories and property investments throughout England and Ireland. Much of this business had come from Thadeus’ aristocratic connections, but their efficient service was beginning to attract a wider clientele. He had also established a reasonable book of agents supplying general non-marine risks to Lloyd’s.

James was developing a small, but useful book of motor business, both direct and through agents. But what really interested Thadeus was the bloodstock account, horses, particularly racehorses, stallions and mares. An area of business that Thadeus thought could establish the company as a major player within the Lloyd’s community.

They had employed three new members of staff. Miss Mills, a lady in her fifties with many years’ experience in the city. She had been private secretary to the chairman of a medium sized company of Lloyd’s brokers and when he retired she felt that a new position was appropriate. She had worked her way up from an office junior at the end of the last century, and knew ‘everything’ about Lloyd’s brokers. She was, frankly, a bit of a dragon – or should it be dragoness: Everyone, including Thadeus, leapt to their feet when she addressed them. She was appointed office manager. Essentially this title meant that she did everything that the others didn’t. James was appointed an assistant director at the same time, to keep him slightly out of her clutches.

Also added was Mr Emery, he was in his sixties and working his way to a well deserved pension that he had already established with one of the large firms of Lloyd’s brokers. By a special arrangement with them he had been engaged by Burke & Co to look after the policy documentation. He had substantial knowledge of the Lloyd’s Signing Bureau and had been involved within the sub-committee set up to consider the idea of a central policy signing office a few years ago.

The third new member was a twenty-six-year-old young lady, Elizabeth ‘Beth’ Bateman, previously employed by the Railway Passengers Assurance Company, situated just round the corner in Cornhill, and an occasional lunch companion of Ethel. She was handling claims, as she had done in her previous job. Her telephone manner was excellent and her paperwork meticulous. As Burke & Co did not have many claims at the present time, she was also taking all telephone calls for the office.

During this period Thadeus had had lunch with Johnny Jackson and received a full account of the Armstrong case, involving the use of arsenic, in Wales. A chap poisoned his wife and then proceeded to try his luck on a fellow solicitor. Unfortunately he got the dosage wrong and his competitor was taken violently ill, which lead to Mrs Armstrong’s body being exhumed and her husband hanged.

Thadeus had also acquired a description of Sir Percy Dennington’s office, the scene of his death. Sir Percy was attempting to establish a small band of thoroughbred broodmares at his farm near Newmarket in Suffolk, the home of English horseracing. To this end he had built two sets of loose boxes, both as a row of six, brick with slate roofs. He had two mares, both in foal, and with recently weaned foals. The two mares were in one unit and the foals in the other. The mare’s unit had a foaling box at one end and a box used for storage at the other end. The foal’s unit had one of the end boxes converted into an office, equipped with a mahogany roll-top desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet and a bookcase. In one of the bottom drawers of the desk Sir Percy kept a bottle of Drambuie, apparently his favourite tipple, practically addicted to the stuff, very rarely drank anything else. At the time of his death there was a half-bottle in the drawer; it was almost empty. There were no glasses in the drawer. The other, almost full, deadly half-bottle was on the desk with his one glass.

Thadeus made some notes and sketched a drawing of the house and outbuildings, and the looseboxes. He then worked on a detailed ground plan of the area and the office layout. Jackson was most impressed, particularly with the fact that Thadeus had bought these large sheets of paper with him to the restaurant. It was this sketched ground plan that attracted the attention of James Pooley the next day.

‘I have been working on a ground plan for Dad’s proposed new premises up in Essex,’ he explained.

‘How is the project getting on?’ asked Thadeus.

‘Actually it has run into a few problems,’ then James, slightly sheepishly added, ‘I wondered if I could seek your advice on a couple of matters?’

‘And you saw my plans of the Dennington estate and it gave you the ideal excuse to raise the matter?’ scoffed Thadeus, softening his observation with the words, ‘James, if you have a problem of any sort always talk to me about it.’ Thadeus thought, but did not say, that worried and distracted staff were bad for business and therefore bad for the firm, and for him.

It was nearly lunchtime and Thadeus suggested that they should partake of a beer and sandwich at The Lamb, as soon as he had completed a draft slip on which he was working. Thadeus handed his papers to Beth Bateman, who had started work at Burke & Co a couple of days before, and was now manning the secretary’s desk while Ethel had taken an early lunch. The two girls were not happy that they alternated at lunchtime as it meant that they were unable to take meals together. Thadeus promised that when Miss Mills and Mr Emery arrived on the Monday of the next week the situation would be reconsidered. What he really meant was that it would become Miss Mills’ problem, not his! What the firm really needed was a proper ‘office junior’ but they could not afford one at this time. The present staff expansion had pushed Thadeus’ budget to the limit.

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Thadeus, as they settled on a pair of stools at the bar with their beer, awaiting the ordered sandwiches.

‘There are two problems which may possibly be related,’ informed James. ‘You know some of the facts about the site in Essex, but I will just reiterate the exact position, by way of background. My father was offered a contract by the transport company for work on their buses. Frankly the contact came through a friend of Dad’s, with whom he used to work, but Dad gained the contract on merit. He was not the only engineer seeking the job! My uncle, Dad’s brother-in-law, works for the War Office and was able to inform Dad about this disused airfield that was being sold, so Dad was able to make an offer, agree a price and pay a deposit within an hour of the information appearing in the newspapers.’

James paused to sup his beer and ask Thadeus if he had any questions. Thadeus said that he might have questions later, but for James to kick-on with the story for the moment. Thadeus had thought of asking James whether his father was an old Etonian, but he held back any criticism of a nepotistic nature saying simply, ‘Let us attend to the problems!’

‘The first problem is with the bank. Dad has an account with the Co-operative Society Bank. He has banked with them since he left school. He has always been a prudent saver. The business, Pooley Motors Ltd, also have their account with the Co-op; I should mention that Dad is of a socialist persuasion, not involved in politics at all, but definitely “on the left”. He feels that the Co-op is the people’s bank! The land will cost £3,800. Dad has £500, in cash, in the bank. The company also has assets, machinery and tools. The bank agreed to advance £3,000, leaving Dad to find another three hundred. Now, suddenly, they say that in view of the current economic climate, general strike looming, etc. they have been forced to reconsider the loan and can only advance £1,000 pounds.’

For a moment it looked as though tears might swell in James’s eyes.

‘What is the second problem?’ said Thadeus quickly.

‘Dad’s friend is under pressure to cancel the work contract because Dad employs non-union workforce.’

At this point tears did swell into James’ eyes.

‘Pull yourself together James,’ instructed Thadeus. ‘It is just a “two-pipe-problem” instead of a quick gasper.’ With this remark Thadeus lighted the match that he had been holding between his fingers for over five minutes, and applied the flame to the bowl of his silver-topped Calabash.

James smiled and lighted a cigarette.

‘Union membership, tell me about that,’ ordered Thadeus.

‘Dad used to be a union member, but now that he has his own business he is not even eligible for membership. He has an apprentice, aged fifteen, who is also not eligible. The only problem is Philip, the mechanic who has been working with Dad for about six months. He has a strong aversion to unions. When he was demobbed from the army, which is when Dad first met him, he worked as a bus driver. He was newly married and they had a baby child; they now have two. Anyway when the first baby was small Philip was given a local bus route, the number 63 that runs from Forest Hill to Peckham, via OHHhhhhhHonour Oak and Nunhead. I do not suppose you know much about bus routes?’ questioned James.

‘It is a vehicle and enterprise that has escaped my studies,’ admitted Thadeus.

‘Generally bus drivers work shifts; the early shift starts work at about five o’clock in the morning and the late shift does not finish until about midnight. Local busses, like the 63, operate during the daytime only. So it was very convenient for Philip, leaving home at a reasonable hour and always home in time for dinner. After a couple of weeks on this job Philip was moved to a different route, one of the long routes that runs right across London, and needs early and late shifts. The reason was that as he was a new man the job should go to a longer serving employee. The man who got the job replacing Philip was the brother of the trade union steward! Atkins was his name, and Philip thinks that he is behind this problem. Philip does not trust any trade unionist.’

‘I can see that it is all a bit of a worry, James,’ said Thadeus, ‘but let us look at the options. One, Philip must join the union. Which one is it – the Transport and General Workers, or the Engineer’s Union?’

‘Either, I think,’ responded James. ‘It was the T&G that he belonged to at the bus garage.’

‘Then he must join the Engineers,’ instructed Thadeus. ‘It is always useless to harbour a grudge; the “grudgor” is the one that suffers, not the “grudgee”. He can resign when this problem is out of the way, if he thinks that it is really necessary. Point two, we must find another bank. We will go and see my own manager at Coutts & Co this afternoon. If he cannot help us, he will know somebody who can.’

‘I am sorry to be putting all this on to you,’ apologized James.

‘I love problems! I suppose you thought that the two incidents might be related because the Co-op and the trade unions both sponsor Labour parliamentary candidates. There might be a link. We must investigate!’

The sandwiches and drinks having been consumed the two men returned to their office.

Thadeus made a telephone call to Gerald Parker at Coutts and arranged to meet him, with James Pooley, at 3.30 pm that afternoon. He then gathered up the papers and newly typed slips from Ethel, who had replaced Beth at the secretary’s desk, and made his way to the Lloyd’s Underwriting Room.

The work proved simple, underwriters just loved office blocks in West London, even if the premium rates were a bit thin! He was back in the office by 3.15, leaving plenty of time for a leisurely stroll through the alleys to Lombard Street.

An elegant young lady, who placed their bowler hats in a cupboard, escorted them into Gerald’s private office. James placed his umbrella in a stand himself; the young lady smiled, but appeared to be devastated by the deprival of this duty. Thadeus had the good manners to hand his umbrella directly to the charming female, who gave him an appreciative nod of the head.

Gerald rose from his chair and quickly approached the two men with his hand outstretched. Greetings were exchanged and introductions made.

Gerald was in his mid-thirties, elegantly attired in a full frock coat and high collar, the required habiliment of the bank. Had Thadeus been aware of this meeting while at his matutinal preparations he would have been similarly attired. The lounge suit that he wore that day put him, he felt, at a distinct disadvantage in the forthcoming negotiations.

James outlined the proposed purchase of land in north Essex, describing the old airfield site. The area to be bought by Mr Pooley senior was about two-thirds of the original operational airfield; the other one-third, the eastern side, was to be used by the local council for a new industrial estate, an area where local businesses could be established without interfering with the plans for the nearby towns. Work had already commenced on the site.

The Pooley land included two large aircraft hangers on the northern border, and some huts and small offices at the far western end. The original landing strip had been nearly halved by the division of the land. Mr Pooley intended to retain his half of the landing strip for test-driving buses and other vehicles. He might introduce a skid-pad! All the land transfer documents were ready for signing; only the money was missing!

When questioned more intensely James admitted that there was one small problem concerning a right of way’. The previous owners, the War Office, had been able, legally, to ignore this issue, but new owners, including the local council had to recognize the pre-war rights. The pathway crossed the eastern end of the land diagonally, from south-west to north-east. The council proposed to move the right of way so that it left the southern border roadway at the original point, but travelled directly north along the division between the newly divided land. Local rambling and horse-riding groups had been consulted and no problem was anticipated. The council intended to make the redirected pathway into a proper roadway, which would better suite the industrial estate, and Mr Pooley, giving them access to their properties from two sides.

The problem was the other end of the right of way, which obviously also needed to move. This was across the county border in Suffolk and the local council on that side of the divide had proved unhelpful, and nobody seemed to know who owned the adjacent land. Lawyers were working on searches, without much success! The Essex Local Council and, consequently, the Ministry of Defence, were loath to finalize matters until this problem was resolved.

James left the meeting with two foolscap sheets of notes and questions that needed answers, and a long list of documents that would need to be produced for the bank’s perusal, otherwise the meeting went well. Gerald seemed confident that the bank could advance a sum up to four thousand pounds, subject to agreed repayment terms and an interest rate of one and a quarter per cent above the bank of England lending rate. Following a frown from Thadeus this figure was reduced to a more acceptable three-quarters of a point. As they left the room Thadeus said that he wanted a private word with Gerald and returned behind closed doors for a few minutes. Then Thadeus and James collected their belongings and returned to the office in good humour.

Before leaving the office that evening Thadeus asked Inspector Jackson if he was free for a quick conversation at about 6.00 pm. Jackson suggested a beer at The Lamb, but Thadeus declined, his excuse being: ‘I have promised my sister that I will run through some old oral examination papers with her this evening, as she has an important test coming up, and I need all my wits clear and unadulterated for the long Latin words! Can we just meet in the street? Outside my office?’

At 6.00 pm they walked down Gracechurch Street together. Thadeus outlined the shenanigans that were hassling the Pooley family.

Jackson enlightened, ‘I am investigating a case of alleged fraud and embezzlement within the T&GWU which may have nothing to do with your problem. The two people involved know nothing about this, and I can say nothing, officially. If the facts concerning the matter were exposed it would ruin my case, not to mention a slight case of slander! Off the record, and putting my life in your hands, I will mention two names.’

Thadeus placed two fingers in front of his mouth indicating his continued silence.

Jackson looked around the street suspiciously, turning casually towards Thadeus’ right ear, ‘Sid and Len Barber,’ he said, and immediately changed the subject of conversation to the weather.

Freddie seemed happy with the questions fired at her that evening, while Thadeus, although armed with the correct answers was still left totally bewildered.

The next morning Thadeus was introduced to Mr Sydney Pooley, father of James, who had appeared especially to thank him for his assistance with the bank. He was slightly taller than his son, wearing a black Homburg and a black overcoat, with a velvet collar. Thadeus thought that this apparel only appeared for funerals, and bank managers. Apart from the black garb he was very much a manual worker, his hands were strong and, although slim, his body was of a sinewy structure. Mr Pooley was armed with two briefcases packed with documentary evidence of the land deal; the bus repair contract, his business accounts and budget figures and details of all his personal wealth. Thadeus advised him that he was confident that the bank manager would be impressed. He did not mention that during his final brief conversation with Mr Gerald Parker he had agreed personally to underwrite the loan against his assets at the bank, secured against the land, of course!

Thadeus invited Mr Pooley to partake of a cup of Beth’s excellent and fresh coffee. When served Thadeus asked Beth to close the door of his little office.

‘Mr Pooley, have you ever heard of a “Sid and Len Barber”?’ he put to the elder man, inwardly crossing himself for the life of Johnny Jackson.

‘Two of the worst East End gangsters in London!’ exclaimed Pooley Senior. ‘Do you think that they have anything to do with my problems?’

‘Oh God,’ thought Thadeus, ‘I should not have mentioned the names!’ Then aloud, ‘No, no. I read something about them in the papers and thought that they operated in South London,’ he lied.

‘They are a couple of brothers, real hooligans; terrified the Isle of Dogs for some years before moving out to one of those new towns in Essex. They live nowhere near the land that I am buying. I came across them when they were involved with the Southwark Trade Council – a devious pair! Sid, the elder one is now quite high up in the Trade Union Council and I think that his brother is the treasurer of a T&GWU branch somewhere.’

‘Oh right!’ said Thadeus, casually. ‘What time is your appointment at the bank?’

‘Not until 2.00 pm,’ replied Mr Pooley, ‘I was hoping to leave my bags here in the office, if that is all right, while I have a look around St Paul’s. Wonderful piece of work, wonderful piece of work,’ he enthused.

Thadeus agreed, adding that he thought that it was also ‘a beautiful piece of mathematics’, then the elder Pooley said farewell to his son and set off along Cornhill.

Before he vacated the office he said, quietly to Thadeus, ‘I will not be mentioning our conversation about the Barbers to anybody!’

Thadeus offered a grateful smile.

The rest of the morning everybody was busy on insurance matters; there were plenty of orders and quotations to be completed that week, therefore the staff were surprised when Thadeus announced that he would be leaving the office at 12.30 as he had a lunch date outside of the city. Privately he advised James that his appointment was with his father at the House of Lords, and that he anticipated at least two bottles of decent red wine between them, so it was possible that he would not return to the office that afternoon. He instructed him to telephone him at home if there were any problems, particularly if they concerned his father’s meeting at the bank. Thadeus and James then put in a good hour’s work in the Underwriting Room; James returning alone to the office laden with files and slips, Thadeus having taken a taxi to Westminster.

Thadeus met his father in the Great Hall and they wound their way through the building for lunch on the terrace. Thadeus had hoped that they would eat in the Lord’s refectory surrounded by steaming beef, lamb and pork trolleys, but as things turned out the lighter terrace menu suited him better.

Thadeus’ relationship with his father had always been very formal; he always referred to him as ‘sir’. His father always called him ‘Thadeus’ but there was always a slight pause before he used the name, as if he needed to recall the word out of some distant archive of his mind.

They discussed politics, particularly the hopeless position of the Liberal Party and the constant wrangling therein. Shared thoughts on the forthcoming general strike, Lord Ashmoor feared that Churchill would have the nation swarming with armed troops. Thadeus was sure of one thing; the miners were not going to get much help from anybody, a sad reward for the men working at the very surface where nature and civilization meet.

With the cheese, and second bottle of claret, questions were raised about life in the city and Lloyd’s in particular. Lord Ashmoor was keen to expand his syndicate portfolio and asked Thadeus to seek out any new and adventurous underwriters that might be of interest.

‘How is your venture into the world of bloodstock insurance progressing?’ questioned the Earl.

‘Slower than I would like, sir,’ replied Thadeus.

The Earl removed a sheet of paper from his inside coat pocket and handed it to his son. ‘I have told these chaps that you will be contacting them to sort out their affairs.’

Thadeus glanced down the list. ‘Good Heavens, sir, half of these accounts will make me the leading bloodstock broker in the world!’

‘I thought that was what you had in mind!’ puzzled the Earl.

‘Yes, sir, I’ll get onto this straight away.’

‘That chap at the top of the list has a very good horse out at Newmarket next week. Be there!’ instructed the Earl. ‘And send that sister of yours back up to Edinburgh, she is wasting too much time piddling about at that hospital, and spending money on clothes.’

‘She seems to be working very hard, sir,’ defended Thadeus. ‘I tested her for hours only last evening with past exam papers.’

‘Yes, but I see the invoices coming in from London fashion houses, and from Paris! Did you know that she had been over there?’

‘Yes, I think she was away for a few days, with some friends,’ admitted Thadeus.

‘Enough said! There is an interesting debate in the lower house this afternoon. Drop in and see if you can catch some of it, if you have the time,’ said Lord Ashmoor rising from his chair and indicating that the interview was concluded.

Taking a seat in the gallery of the Commons, Thadeus was pleased to find a debate concerning methods of taxation taking place in the chamber. Neither the Prime Minister nor the Chancellor were present but there was a good back-bench tussle, every system of raising revenue from income tax, through import duties and purchase taxes, to land value taxation, was being advocated and praised, questioned and ridiculed. The only consensus was the opposition to the reintroduction of window tax!

Thadeus was particularly impressed by the young Labour Member for Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent, with a strong voice, flavoured with a hint of Scottish accent. His preference was land value taxation and he spoke well on the subject. Thadeus could not fault his argument, but what really caught his attention was the member’s response to an interruption doubting the ability of the authorities to identify the responsible landlord for tax purposes. ‘Very easy!’ dismissed the young Scotsman. ‘I would walk onto the land with a pickaxe in one hand and a shovel in the other, and I would start digging. It would not be long before somebody tapped me on the shoulder. That would be the landlord!’ The House enjoyed that, so did Thadeus; what a good idea!

Thadeus telephoned his office as soon as he returned to his house, told them that he was back, spoke in a manner that amplified his sobriety, and requested that James should ring him as soon as he was back in the office. This duly occurred at a couple of minutes before five o’clock. There were few business problems to worry about; a pair of underwriters had gone ‘missing’ after lunch, nothing new there! One chap thought that the value of a racehorse could never be as high as £10,000 and that there was probably a typing error on the slip! All routine stuff!

Mr Sydney Pooley had satisfied all the requirements of Coutts & Co and the money was ready to transfer into the newly opened account of Pooley Motors as soon as the outstanding papers were signed. James also informed Thadeus that Philip Mahoney had made an application to join the Camberwell branch of the Engineers Union.

When the final items of the bulletin were despatched, Thadeus advised James that he recommended a visit to the proposed Pooley Motors North Essex Branch at the weekend; the party to be equipped with pickaxes and shovels.

‘Good heavens!’ responded James, ‘I do not pretend to understand your plan, but Dad already has permission to visit the site at the weekend to look over the aircraft.’

‘What aircraft?’ Thadeus immediately queried.

‘I haven’t told you before but in one of the hangers are a couple of Sopwiths,’ explained James, ‘They were delivered to the airfield just at the end of the war and nobody seems to want them. Most of the ex-war Sopwiths were sold to Australia and other overseas countries but these two got forgotten because there were no personnel on the airfield apart from a caretaker. The War Office says Dad can keep them. It will cost too much to take them away now, especially as the council have cut the runway in half!’

‘Good heavens! What sort of condition are they in?’ exclaimed Thadeus.

‘Excellent, I do not think that they have ever been flown, apart from the delivery flight. The Camel 2F1 has a 150 horse-power Bentley engine, and the Dolphin has a 200 horse-power Hispano-Suiza,’ explained James.

‘Amazing,’ was all an amazed Thadeus could say. ‘Can you telephone me this evening at about eight o’clock? By that time I should have been able to work out some sort of itinerary and timetable.’

‘Yes, sir,’ responded James.

Thadeus replaced the telephone receiver and thought, ‘What on earth is “sir” going to come up with?’

That evening a temporary ‘war cabinet’ consisting of Thadeus and Hilton, assisted by Freddie demoted to serving coffee, considered the options. Hilton acknowledged that, in a previous life, he had encountered some very hard men, but his advise was more of a cautionary nature rather than protagonistic, if not positively obstreperous or aggressive! However a plan was devised, the magic ingredient being supplied by Freddie. Thus it was that at an early hour on Saturday morning a small convoy entered the main gates of Boxheath Airport. Philip Mahoney released the padlocks and the strange party drove past the unmanned sentry boxes and deserted guardhouse. They wove their way across to the Suffolk border, the Bentley with its two passengers; Freddie had reluctantly been restrained at home; parked up about fifty yards from the chosen spot. This was an area of light scrubland without trees.

Philip and James put the Morris Oxford next to the Bentley in a suspiciously protected position. Stanley Pooley drove the pick-up truck close to the fairly dilapidated fence. The five men carefully removed about twenty yards of fencing, placing the woodwork in a neat heap on the Essex side. The surveyor’s plans showed these to be airport property. Stanley unloaded his cargo, Freddie’s magic ingredient, an old Eccles trailer caravan. In the recent past it had been the subject of an accident; that is actually a rather kind description of the vehicle. It was dented all over and the inside resembled a bombsite. It was manoeuvred into position about ten yards inside the Suffolk border. The gang then retreated for a well earned breakfast supplied, and served, by Hilton.

During the two and a half hours that they waited for some reaction to their activities, the party toured the premises. The control tower and its subsidiary equipment had gone, but there were three general-purpose huts, two with old beds and one with tables and chairs. The hangers were the main attractions, particularly the one with the two aircraft. They all spent what seemed like hours gawking at the Sopwith Dolphin and the Sopwith Camel standing majestically at separate corners of the building. James was eager to jump up into the cockpit of the Camel but his father advised him that it was not a toy and that a proper inspection could take place when they had the necessary equipment for handling such a delicate precision machine. Hilton and Philip, who had been partaking of a quiet smoke outside the hanger, alerted the group that they ‘had a bite’.

A gentleman in a tweed suit was standing in the newly created gap waving his arms. The team strolled over to meet him. He introduced himself as a local councillor who had been alerted that a possible trespass was being enacted. Was some local by-law being breached – no! Was he in some way representing the local constabulary – no! Was he acting in the interest, or on behalf, of the landlord – sort of! He knew the owner of the land and knew that the owner would not be pleased by this interruption to the quiet enjoyment of his freehold.

‘Excellent,’ said Thadeus. ‘We are anxious to discuss certain matters related to this landholding with the owner.’

‘I regret that that will not be possible, he lives at some considerable distance from here,’ was the reply.

Then Thadeus played his wild-card, ‘Perhaps we could arrange a meeting with his brother?’

The councillor visibly froze, his mouth opened but nothing came out. He composed himself, saying ‘I will see what I can arrange,’ and hastily withdrew, walking quickly towards the neighbouring farm.

‘We have more than a bite chaps. We will shortly need the nets,’ triumphed Thadeus.

‘What nets?’ enquired James.

‘A good question Mister James! I think that we should retreat to the main hanger – with our vehicles!’ interposed Hilton.

It was agreed.

Within thirty minutes of their encampment the giant hanger door behind the Camel moved and a gunshot was fired into the air above the heads of the five men standing around the Bentley. As they scuttled to the other side of the large motor-car Thadeus just had time to ask James if this sort of thing was covered by his motor insurance. James‘s vocal system had completely closed down; so had Philip’s and Stanley’s. Only Hilton was able to express himself in sound, and this he did so by repeating certain well-versed obscenities in short loud bursts!

Before they had time to recover from the shock a new and more terrifying sound split the air. Machine-gun bullets spattered the back wall.

‘Good God, it’s the Lewis!’ exclaimed Philip and Hilton together recognizing the report of the Camel’s armament. They had no time to evaluate this new threat, before the firing ceased, and the expletives ‘shit, shit!’ echoed from the aircraft’s cockpit.

‘The Lewis has jammed!’ cried Hilton.

‘Is there not a saying in the east that “one animal’s excrement is another animal’s nourishment”?’ exclaimed Thadeus rhetorically.

Hilton murmured something about ‘muck and brass’ with reference to east Yorkshire, but Thadeus had stood up, assessed the position, and was running towards the Camel aircraft. He arrived underneath the front of the fuselage and was surprised to find himself facing a very rough-looking fellow at the other end apparently trying to lift up the aircraft’s tail plane. Using no words, in an instant, his mind recognized that the villain’s idea was lower the Camel’s nose in order to operate the fixed and synchronized Vickers at ground level. He contemplated swinging the propeller as a shield, but there were only two blades, and they were made of wood! As these thoughts flashed through his mind the third, and final, horror started. The Lewis on the Dolphin opened fire. Thadeus experienced one of those moments when time stands still; frozen as Rupert Brooke had ably described in a more favourable situation over a teacup.

The Dolphin’s Lewis sent a short burst sweeping across the dusty floor. The scruff at the rear of the Camel fell to the ground clutching his legs and moaning loudly. From his hand fell a handgun. Thadeus rushed down the port side of the Camel and grabbed it. Before he could stand upright the Dolphin was in action again, a well-directed burst hit the occupant of the Camel’s cockpit, just as the first rounds left the Vickers on their way towards the far end roof. All was now quiet! Thadeus paused, then ducked under the fuselage and walked with trepidation towards the other craft, gun in hand.

A voice boomed out into the large hanger from a megaphone. ‘Thadeus, please do not shoot Detective Sergeant Anderson.’ It was the unmistakeable voice of Inspector Johnny Jackson.

An hour later they were all assembled in a private room at the local hostelry. Explanations were being given. The police had arrived as the first shots were fired. The detective sergeant was familiar with the Lewis gun, but it was the first time he had used one to attack a Sopwith Camel. His last victim had been a Hanover C Type over France as a member of the RFC.

What Thadeus could not understand was why even an East End gangster would want to machine-gun five people to settle a dispute over the route of a public right of way?

Jackson explained. ‘It might have been the last straw, or more likely the last haystack. My investigation was getting close to his illegal activities, and then he suddenly discovers that Stanley and Philip, two old union adversaries, who knew his name, and knew his signature, where about to unearth his secret land ownership, bought with money stolen from union funds. He also owned the farm, beyond the scrub strip, an area of over 120 acres.’

‘How did you know that we were there?’ asked Thadeus.

‘I telephoned you at home to give you some more information about the Barber brothers. I spoke to your sister, she sounds very nice.’

‘She is invaluable,’ confessed Thadeus.

Then Jackson enquired, ‘How did you wheedle them out?’

‘When I was told that we could not meet the landowner, I asked if I could talk to his brother.’

Jackson laughed. ‘You chaps will be needed at the enquiry.’

That evening Thadeus felt an overwhelming need to bathe in the beautiful; to rid the body and mind of violence and aggressive impulses. He entertained the clientele of the public bar with parts of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 27.