Stalin's Gold



The looting committee meeting had begun promptly at 8.30 and had finished two and a half hours later. Not a minute too soon in Peter Johnson’s view. Not much had been achieved apart from his meeting his co-members on the committee. The committee had been kept mercifully small – a couple of middle-ranking civil servants, a senior fellow from the ARP, a retired major from the Home Guard and the rather charming Scottish man from the AFS. In the hallway outside the meeting room this tall and languid man, Sir Archibald Steele, came over to Johnson. “May I walk you back to your office, Inspector? I think the rain has stopped now and I need a bit of air to blow the cobwebs away.”

As they walked towards Parliament Square, Steele gave Johnson the benefit of his views on their fellow committee members. “Craig’s alright, I suppose. He’s quite on the ball for a young office civil servant, which isn’t saying a lot, and as for Matthewson, he’s just a time-serving nonentity. The ARP fellow’s a jumped-up little prat – I’ve had a few run-ins with him in the last couple of months. The major’s not a bad old stick, but I wouldn’t expect much of a contribution from him, which leaves us pretty much holding the ball.”

Johnson swerved to avoid an oncoming taxi, as he struggled to keep pace with his colleague as they crossed the road.

“Sorry, Inspector. I forget how fast I walk sometimes. Too much tramping over the moors of my homeland. My wife is always ticking me off for it.”

“Not to worry, Mr, er… Sir… er.”

“Archie, if you please. No point in pomp and ceremony with me. And may I…?”

“Of course. Peter. Please.”

“Well, Peter, I think you know one of my protégés.”

They reached the turning on to the Embankment.

“I do?”

“Yes, Jack Stewart. He’s a friend of your boss, I believe?”

“Oh, yes. Jack Stewart. An interesting man. He and DCI Merlin are great pals. Like to spout poetry at each other over a pint or two.”

“Indeed. Indeed. A remarkable brain Jack has, all the more so considering the poverty of his childhood and education.”

“Yes. I know he’s also been a great support to the Chief Inspector during his, erm…”

“Yes, yes. I know. Poor fellow lost his wife and I understand Jack played a blinder helping him through it.”

They came to a halt at the entrance to Scotland Yard. “I have no idea how we are going to make this committee effective, have you, Inspector? Our manpower in the fire service is already stretched to capacity and things are likely to get a lot worse. I believe you chaps are in the same position?”

“We’re all doing pretty much double-time. I think a coordinated response to the looting problem is going to be very difficult. I was talking to Inspector Merlin about it yesterday. Obviously much of the looting, if it occurs as anticipated, will be one-off and opportunistic.”

Steele nodded his agreement.

“With such ad hoc looting, Archie, all we can hope to do is catch as many as possible and give them heavy sentences. However, where there is evidence of coordinated looting, we can perhaps aim to be more effective and influential.”

“How do you mean?”

Johnson set down his briefcase and folded his arms. “It’s possible that we may find looters operating in gangs with some sort of organised approach. They may target certain areas.”

“The richer ones obviously.”

“Yes, Archie. Mayfair, Chelsea, Kensington and so on. I would be surprised if we don’t find gangs working in partnership with professional fences and thieves.”

Steele extracted a handkerchief from his jacket and blew his nose discreetly. “Excuse me. And how do we approach that problem?”

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