“That’s him. When I was a young sergeant, I met him while working on the Brighton trunk murders. A very clever chap.”
Merlin shook hands with Ross. “Well, Lieutenant. I’ll rely on you to ask Spilsbury or whoever else is in charge to look after this body carefully. We’ll get in touch with them about the post-mortem.”
A loud creaking noise was followed by the sound of timber falling to the ground nearby, just missing a passing warden. “Come on, you two, before we join Kilinski in a box as well. Let’s see where Mr Webster found the poor chap.”
*
Jake Dobson tossed and turned on the flimsy bed in his dingy rented room. Last night had been very dodgy. Very dodgy indeed. Billy and he had found some good stuff in the wreck of an old residential house in Covent Garden and they had received prompt cash payment from the Russian that afternoon. He was worried though. The dangers were increasing – both the physical danger and the danger of apprehension. As they had been leaving the ruins with a nice load of artwork and gold and silver, Billy had tripped on something that he realised with horror was an unexploded bomb. Nothing had happened, but still… Then as they’d got out into the street a warden had accosted them. Before entering the building, they had tried, as usual, to gauge its distance from what seemed to be the bombers’ main target areas for the night and thus get a lead as to the likely absence of wardens, firemen and soldiers. That night the bombers’ focus seemed to be the City, and Covent Garden had seemed safe but… Anyway, he had smashed the warden’s head with a heavy silver lamp stand he had in his bag and they had got away safely this time.
And then he knew for certain that the Russians were shafting them. Regardless of the value of the items – and, of course, they had to have their profit – he thought that danger money should be factored in. Billy thought he was the clever one while Jake’s pathetically unsuccessful life to date did not indicate great talent or brainpower – but Jake knew when he was being diddled even if Billy did not. He had noticed that Trubetskoi made a point of lurking in a corner with the poncy valuer to discuss the goods. He knew that Trubetskoi was up to no good, but Billy seemed to be perfectly happy with the wodge of cash they got up front and the promise of a cut in the understated proceeds of sale. He’d like to get Evans in a dark alley and squeeze the truth out of him. Maybe after their next meeting he’d get a chance. He wouldn’t tell Billy about it as he’d probably be old womanish and warn him off. It wouldn’t take much to get the information out of Evans but then again, perhaps he was a straight shooter and wouldn’t have a problem giving him the proper valuation.
He reached out a hand and grabbed the half bottle of brandy from the floor. Pleased that he had come up with a course of action that should resolve his concerns, he took a long swig, then lay his head back on the thin and grubby pillow. Within minutes he was asleep.
*
Inspector Johnson had arranged to meet Jack Stewart at his station to discuss the looting problem. The place seemed to be empty when Johnson arrived, but he could hear a faint sound of snoring somewhere in the back.
In a small alcove behind the tea station, Jack Stewart was catching forty winks, perched a little precariously on two chairs. As Johnson approached, one eye snapped open. “Hello, Peter, how are you?”
“Fine, Jack. Couldn’t you find somewhere more comfortable to take a nap?”
Stewart swung his legs to the floor. “Wasn’t really intending to take a nap. Just nodded off waiting for you.”
Johnson smiled. “Where is everyone?”