Scooters Yard Page 6

  ‘People of Gornstock,’ he intoned. ‘This morning, the police of your city are the first to recognise that women can have a more important role in our society. We welcome our new recruits with open arms and hope that soon they will get the same respect and support from you that our male colleagues’ already receive.’ He thought he might be pushing it a bit, as a rat with a skin infection got more respect than the police ever did. ‘Progress is being made in our wonderful society, and today it can be said that we have taken the first step.’

  The crowd raised a half-hearted cheer and a smattering of applause permeated the morning air. Rose patted the commander on the arm and then turned to the girls, ushering them towards the Academy and away from the crowd. Diffin followed smartly behind. The morning would be one to remember, a first in Gornstock’s history; but the girls were here for a reason, they had to be turned into female feelers — hopefully, the first of many.

  CHAPTER 5

  As the crowd dispersed, order once again descended on the streets outside Pendon Police Academy. MacGillicudy would have liked to have thought restored, but that would have been a thought too far, as normally it would be the crowd itself that dictated when the police would be allowed to restore peace in Gornstock— generally a collective decision when boredom set in. Now, with nothing much to see, and the dissenters effectively silenced by the supporters of his new initiative, they all decided to go and find something else to do.

  Cornwallis and Frankie emerged from the thinning masses, both with big wide grins on their faces. MacGillicudy watched them approach with a look of relief on his face, relief that the crowd hadn’t turned ugly and that the entertainment had lived up to the expected standard.

  ‘Morning, Jethro,’ said Cornwallis, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. ‘Nice start to the day, don’t you think?’

  ‘Morning, Jack,’ replied the commander. ‘Nice? I hardly think a mob descending on police property could be in any way termed nice. I’m just thankful it all passed off as peaceful as it did.’

  ‘You mean you weren’t expecting it? Rose did. She told me last night that she thought something like this might happen.’

  ‘Well, I wish she had bloody told me as well.’ replied MacGillicudy, perhaps a little too forcefully.

  ‘Ah, but she couldn’t, it being a little late in the evening, and… er, being somewhat indisposed at the time.’

  ‘Uh?’ queried MacGillicudy.

  Cornwallis grinned ‘Jethro, don’t be indelicate.’

  ‘Ah,' replied the commander, making the correct assumption. ‘I’ll mention it to Rose later, I’m sure she would appreciate your candidness,’ he goaded.

  ‘I reckon you’re right there, Jethro,’ ventured Frankie, with a wink to the commander. ‘You go tell her, it’ll serve his loinship here right. Cut off his conjugals she would. She’d go back to the Stoat for an extended stay and he'll have to resort to—’

  ‘That’s enough, Frankie,’ interjected Cornwallis, with a chuckle. ‘Just because Isabella is nearly due, doesn’t mean you can take your frustrations out on me. I’m sure that service will resume in the fullness of time; however, with baby around, I’ll doubt you’ll have either the time or the energy.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack.’ Frankie’s face took on a sombre look, as that reality had already dawned on him.

  ‘You should be where I am,’ moaned MacGillicudy. ‘I’ve not had any time for longer than I can remember. You try and run a police service and fit in a little recreation. I’m too bloody knackered most of the time to do anything other than fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow — and that’s when I actually get time to get to bed.’

  ‘Here we go,’ chorused both Frankie and Cornwallis together.

  MacGillicudy looked peeved. ‘Thanks for your support, gentlemen.’

  ‘Anytime, Jethro. You know us, we’re all heart,’ replied a grinning Frankie.

  A feeler then appeared, walking down the street with a horse and cart in tow. MacGillicudy suddenly remembered the horse and cart that had come up the road earlier. As he looked, his eyes narrowed. He could see a cart, and a horse, but try as he might, he couldn’t see the driver.

  The young feeler plodded along at the old nag’s pace. As it got closer, MacGillicudy could see that the cart had seen better days, well past its use-by date — but so was the horse, if he was any judge of horseflesh.

  Slowly but surely, the little procession shortened the distance until the feeler came to a halt in front of his commander.

  ‘Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t think what else to do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked MacGillicudy. ‘Where’s the driver?

  ‘That’s the point, sir. I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? You’ve lost me lad. I distinctly remember that I saw a driver: big hat, old overcoat type of driver. He sat up front driving the bloody thing.’

  ‘There was, sir. I agree.’ The feeler became a bit worried now. ‘But when I got into Daggs Lane, I turned around and found that he’d disappeared. He was definitely there to start with, sir. But then he weren’t.’

  ‘You mean he buggered off?’

  ‘Must have done, sir. What do you want to do with it now? Put it into lost property?’

  ‘Lost property? It’s a bloody horse. How can that go into lost property? Do you think we’re going to dump the thing on a shelf and wait for the owner to turn up? Think of the mess it’d make on the floor.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ replied the feeler, meekly.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ MacGillicudy took off his hat and scratched his head in thought. ‘Well, if I remember right, you said he had a delivery to make. What’s in the back?’

  ‘He didn’t say, sir.’

  ‘Did he not? Oh well, I suppose we’d better have a look at what it is, then.’

  Cornwallis and Frankie were enjoying the little exchange as they looked on. Both the horse and cart were unlikely to do anything other than fall apart by the look of things. Cornwallis stepped forward and gave the cart a kick.

  ‘Reckon you could give this one a ticket for being unroadworthy,’ observed Cornwallis wryly. ‘Look at it. Bits are falling off as we speak.’

  ‘Don’t make it any worse, Jack. Let’s see what’s in the back first.’

  An old grey canvas covered the back of the cart. Cornwallis went to one side and grabbed hold of a corner, MacGillicudy went to the other and did the same. Frankie stood by Cornwallis while the young feeler held on to the horse. They pulled steadily to reveal the contents and were a bit perplexed at what they saw.

  ‘A Barrel. That’s it. Nothing else,’ said MacGillicudy.

  ‘Not any barrel,’ said Frankie. ‘Look at the writing on the side; it’s a barrel of Gornblasters Special. Nice beer that, three pints will get you pissed.’

  Cornwallis reached over, untied the strap tying it on, and then rolled it towards him. ‘Well, it may be a beer barrel, but it ain’t got any beer in it. It rattles.’

  MacGillicudy nodded. ‘It’s got a bit of string coming out of the bottom as well. Wonder why that is? Better have a look inside; he meant to deliver it to the Academy.’

  ‘Why order a barrel of beer with no beer in?’ asked Frankie.

  ‘As far as I know, nobody ordered anything,’ replied MacGillicudy.

  They tipped the barrel up so that it sat on its bottom and then Cornwallis got his knife out to prise open the lid. It took a few minutes of jiggling around as the lid had been rammed on really tight, but unfortunately, it had the effect of turning his nice straight-bladed knife into one that could stab round corners.

  ‘Bugger,’ said Cornwallis. ‘That was a good knife too.’

  ‘At least the lids nearly off,’ observed Frankie. ‘Just one more bit of prising and I reckon that’ll do it.’

  Cornwallis looked at his banana shaped knife and shrugged his shoulders. Nothing he could do about it now, he thought. He dug the blade into the lid again and levered up. Frankie was right; the lid sprang open.


  All three then stared into the inside of the barrel.

  ‘What the…?’ said MacGillicudy, as he tried to work out what he looked at. ‘It’s just loads of bits of scrap metal.’

  Frankie leant over and began to pick the bits of metal out. It was all rubbish, bent nails, off-cuts and all sorts of odds and ends, and all of it metal. Very soon, he had a nice little pile sat in the back of the cart. ‘Well I never, there’s another little barrel in ‘ere as well.’

  Cornwallis poked his nose in, then leant inside to grab the little barrel sitting inside the big barrel and pulled it out. The little bit of string that MacGillicudy had seen, easily slipped through the outer barrel’s hole, still firmly attached to this smaller one. All three had a confused look on their faces. Realising that his knife couldn’t suffer any more damage, Cornwallis began to lever the lid off of the new one.

  ‘This one’s even tighter,’ he observed with annoyance.

  A few minutes later, the lid came off, and the three of them stared at a little barrel full of black powder.

  Frankie dipped his hand in and picked up a pinch between his fingers. He sniffed and then rolled it between the digits. ‘Do you want to know what I think this stuff is?’

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Cornwallis.

  ‘Well, don’t you remember when we were kids? We used to nick a few whizz-bangs from the alchemists; I know you didn’t, as you were too posh to nick stuff, just got us to do it for you. You know, those things they light with a match and then they shoot off up into the sky. Used to nip ‘round the back of the buildings and sneak in when they weren’t looking. We used to split them up and put all the gubbings into a pile, then leave a little trickle which we lit and then ran like buggery. You must remember; used to fizz and fart like a good’n, that did. I reckon this is the powder they use. Gonepowder, I think they calls it, because when you light it, it’s gone.’

  Cornwallis nodded, the memory coming back to him. Frankie’s mum used to work for his father, the Earl, and they played together as kids. A tingling feeling started to edge up Cornwallis’ spine as he began to remember. Bored with the spine, the feeling carried on up into his neck, and then suddenly the tingling engulfed him. When the goosebumps erupted, a strong shiver assailed every muscle in his body. ‘Oh shit,’ he said quietly.

  MacGillicudy turned to the young feeler, an angry scowl crossing his features, as he too realised the intention of the barrel. ‘The driver. What did he look like?’ he barked.

  ‘S… s… sorry, sir. I… I… I didn’t see him that well.’ The feeler had never seen the commander looking as angry as he did, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to wrack his brain for information. He didn’t know what had made his commander so angry, but he didn’t want to make things worse. ‘He had a big hat and a scarf covering his mouth. He just looked like a little old fella.’

  ‘Just a little old fella who wanted to blow the watch-house to bloody hell and gone. That, sonny boy,’ and he pointed to the back of the cart, ‘was meant to be the death of us all.’

  The colour drained from the feeler’s face. ‘Oh.’

  *

  He had had to think quickly as the feeler wouldn’t listen and insisted on carrying out the commander’s order to escort him out of the road and away from the crowd. The lad had grabbed hold of the reins and led the horse and cart through the crowd and down into the lane. He couldn’t take the risk of getting caught with the contents of the cart, so as soon as they entered the lane he slipped silently from the seat and ran down the nearest alley. The young feeler still talked to the empty seat behind, oblivious to his rapid and perfectly executed escape.

  This could be a big setback to the cause.

  He deposited his disguise into an alcove in the alley: a big brown wide brimmed hat, an old brown flea ridden coat and a once black, but now dirty grey, scarf. He discarded the lot as he sought to mingle in with the crowd

  He felt a degree of nervousness as he joined the throng and began half-heartedly to join in with the cheering, waving his arms and jumping up and down. The woman he stood next to looked at him suspiciously through narrowed eyes, as if she would tear him apart should he do anything else but scream and cheer enthusiastically, so he increased his animation to a point where it seemed to please her. When he thought he had been convincing enough, he started to ease surreptitiously through the throng, and out to the empty streets beyond.

  How were they going to react? The mission had failed and they would put it all down to him. They were not going to be happy. They had entrusted him to carry out this latest, and most important, operation by their leader himself; a man who would not countenance failure under any circumstances — but what else could he have done?

  *

  Cornwallis struggled to keep his temper in check. The initial numb shock of discovering the device gave way to red-misted anger, focused on the perpetrator of this crime. Bad enough that someone wanted to inflict some serious damage on Pendon Police Academy, but Rose would have been in the building as well; she could have been standing right next to the thing as it did what the designer meant it to do. How serious it would have been, he didn’t know — but he knew a man who would.

  The young feeler watched Cornwallis, Frankie and MacGillicudy nervously as they stared at the barrel and spoke quietly to each other. MacGillicudy nodded decisively to Cornwallis and Frankie and then turned to him. ‘Lad, you will show us where you parked the cart. We want to know everything that happened, understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the feeler crisply, feeling that his job could well be on the line.

  The young lad then stood there, still holding onto the reins, not sure whether he should let go or not; looking for some indication from his commander, who still conversed with the two detectives. Frankie eventually broke away and walked forward to take over the reins.

  Cornwallis and MacGillicudy walked down the street with the young feeler in tow. Frankie would take the horse and cart away to a secluded little workshop on the outskirts of the city — a little experimentation needed to be done.

  ‘Now then, lad,’ said MacGillicudy, placing a comforting arm around the feeler's shoulder. ‘Er … What’s your name, son?’

  ‘Billy, sir. Billy Pinchalily, sir.’

  ‘Well, young Billy. I want you to go through everything, starting from when I first sent you down. Don’t leave anything out, not a thing. I want everything you said and did and everything the driver said and did; even if you said something you shouldn’t. It will be just between we three, okay?’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, sir.’

  MacGillicudy nodded.

  ‘Well, sir. When you first sent me down, I went up to him and stopped the horse by holding onto the bridle. I asked him why he were coming down here, and he said that he had a delivery for the Academy, so I told him to wait and then I hurried back to you, sir,’

  ‘OK, Billy,’ replied MacGillicudy patiently. ‘Now, start again, please. This time, word for word.’

  Billy began to look really worried now. ‘Um, sorry, sir. I understand, sir. Er… do I have to say everything?’

  ‘Yes, Billy, even if you called me an interfering pain in the arse. Now, in your own time, please.’

  Constable Billy Pinchalily took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As jobs went, it wasn’t a bad one really, but he supposed he could always go back to stacking the fat in the lard factory.

  ‘I went up to him, like I said, sir, and stopped him by grabbing the bridle. Then I said…’ Billy took another deep breath. ‘… “All right, laddo, that’s far enough. You can’t come down here, there’s a bit of business going on.” And then he said. “Sod off, sonny, who do you think you’re calling laddo?” Then I said. “I’m an officer of the law, and if you tell me to sod off again I will bang you up. Now, laddo, what’re you doing coming down here?” And he says, pointing. “Delivery, sonny; Pendon Police Academy. Now sod off and tell the commander to let me through.” And then I stares at him a bit and
says, “If you move, I’ll do you for dangerous driving.” So then I ran up to you and says he has a delivery and you sends me back.’

  ‘Very good, Billy,’ encouraged MacGillicudy. ‘Carry on.’

  Billy swallowed nervously. ‘When I gets back to him I says, “The Commander says you can’t come through, so you be a nice little driver and let me lead you down the lane over there.”’ Billy began walking as he talked. ‘He weren’t happy ‘coz he glared at me and started mumbling something that I couldn’t quite hear, sommat like “interfering old scrote,” I think. Anyway, I grabbed the reins and began to lead him through the crowd. I told him this was a big day for Gornstock and that some girls were joining the police force. He said, “Worse day I ever saw. Wouldn’t of—” then he stopped talking and it all went quiet. I kept on talking but he never replied. I kept looking where I were going, so I didn’t look around ‘til I parked up. And then I found he’d gone.’

  MacGillicudy nodded. ‘And is this where you parked up?’

  ‘Yes, sir, just here.’ He pointed to a spot on the road and stood there, just around the bend in the lane.

  As they were walking down Daggs Lane Cornwallis kept his eyes open. On the right hand side there was an unbroken terrace of small cottages, but on the left there were a couple of old empty shops with an alley running between them, right on the crown of the bend. They couldn’t see the main street from where they were standing as the bend obscured it. ‘I reckon we should have a look down there, Jethro. He didn’t run off in front of young Billy here, and I doubt he would have gone back to the crowd, so that looks the most likely means of escape.’

  MacGillicudy nodded his agreement and then turned to the youngster. ‘Billy, you go back to the Yard, I’ll have another word with you later.’

  A bit of a panic crossed Billy’s face.

  ‘Nothing to worry about, son,’ added MacGillicudy, patting the young constable on the back. ‘You did well.’

  Billy wandered off, not quite sure whether to believe the commander or not.