The Shadow of Treason (22 page)

The commissioner smiled. ‘Are you sure about that, Mr Westley?’

Major Fry intervened. ‘Don’t make trouble for yourself, Commissioner. Your lot are out of power. Any minute now you’ll see crowds in the streets, supporting the new regime!’

‘We’re a republic now!’ Barrett affirmed. ‘No more fascist police. In future the law will be in the hands of The People’s Militia.’

The major was regaining his buoyancy. ‘The British public are with us. That broadcast will cause them to rise up and
overthrow
their masters!’

Now Hoskins spoke for the first time. ‘I don’t think so, old chap. The thing is, none of the British public will have actually heard the broadcast.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Westley. ‘Fifty per cent of the British public switch on for the one o’clock news.’

‘And I’m sure they did today. They’ll have heard the normal news bulletin, coming from our Birmingham studios.’

‘What?’

‘I’m afraid your little bit of nonsense went no further than the recording machine in the basement. The line from here to the transmitter was cut off at Droitwich.’

Barrett turned on Alex Price. ‘I thought you said everything was working!’

‘Don’t blame him, old chap, he had no way of knowing. We thought we’d let you go ahead with your speech – the recording will be useful evidence at the trials.’

Westley was now lost for words. But the major was not yet crushed. ‘Never mind the broadcast. The point is, The People’s Militia are at this moment taking control of all areas of power.’

‘Ah. Sorry. Wrong again. Five thousand members of the Home Guard, who were planning to take part in this
insurrection
, were arrested in their homes at dawn today. Well, four thousand, eight hundred and something, actually. Does the number ring a bell?’

Although shaken, the major still managed a little more bluster. ‘I don’t believe it! We’ve heard nothing of this.’

‘That was our intention. We took trouble to ensure the news didn’t reach you and your little gang here. We thought it best if you went ahead in this one location. Let the poison out of the system. So we all know where we stand.’

Fry now saw that his hopes were dashed. He would not be getting instant promotion to the rank of general, and the post of British army supremo. He fell as quiet as Westley and Barrett. For a brief moment there was silence after the turmoil. Then a resentful voice was heard from the sidelines.

‘You mean you let these bastards come here and crack my arm when you could have stopped them?’ protested Owen.

‘Sorry, dear boy,’ said Hoskins. ‘Can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs. You’ll get compensation, of course. Think of it as a war wound.’

‘I have first aiders with me,’ said the commissioner. ‘They’ll look after you till the ambulances arrive.’

‘Ambulances? I don’t need an ambulance!’

‘No, but these characters do.’ The commissioner indicated several of the red-band soldiers who were nursing wounds. ‘The Middlesex Hospital have four blood-wagons standing by.’ He turned to one of his aides. ‘Curtis, ring and tell them they’re needed now, to tidy up after Operation Mike.’

As Curtis went to the phone, Hoskins spoke to the leader of
the commandos. ‘Captain Cole, perhaps you and your chaps could go down and sort out the riff-raff who’ve taken over the ground floor here.’

Cole snapped to attention. ‘With pleasure, sir.’

‘They’re a rabble, but they’re well armed. So be ready for anything.’

Cole was reassuring. ‘With respect, sir, we always are. That lot shouldn’t detain us long.’

Westley raised a hand to halt the proceedings. ‘Just a minute. No point in further bloodshed.’ The phone hadn’t rung, no supportive crowds had appeared outside. ‘It seems the Establishment have won again. No doubt this place has
loudspeakers
. I’ll tell our soldiers to lay down their arms.’

‘Very wise, Mr Westley,’ said Hoskins. ‘And humane. I’ll see it’s taken into account when you appear in court.’

Westley sighed. ‘How did you know our plans? I suppose someone ratted on us.’

‘Not exactly,’ said Hoskins. ‘Let’s just say, a little bird told us.’

T
HERE WAS A
clink as something solid was put down on Adam’s bedside cabinet. ‘A cup of tea,’ the nurse announced brightly.

Adam opened his eyes wide enough to confirm that she had identified the object correctly. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and then he closed them again while he made up his mind whether or not to wake up properly. The tea was always piping hot, so he had a couple of minutes to think things over.

He reviewed the last few days, which had been strangely calm and uneventful after all the preceding turbulence. Of the night he’d been involved in the pier affray, he remembered little that happened after Hoskins flicked the lights off. He’d felt a searing pain in his chest, and a blinding pain in his skull, as his head hit something on the way down. Then it had been
blackness
, punctuated by vivid impressions of flames and frantic activity. There was a vague memory of being bumped along on a stretcher beneath a bewildered moon.

He’d first regained full consciousness in a hospital bed. Not the bed he was in now– this one was by a window. He’d been exhausted and in pain and attached to blood transfusion equipment. He’d instantly started worrying about Jane. There’d been a nurse in the room, and he’d managed to stay awake long enough to ask her if Mr Hoskins was all right. She’d seemed to know who he was talking about, and said he was. ‘Please ask him to tell my girlfriend I’m OK,’ he’d pleaded. And she’d replied, ‘I think that’s taken care of. But I’ll check.’

Reassured, he’d switched off and slept for what seemed like a week, but was probably just ten or twelve hours.

Next time Adam woke, it was because a doctor was pulling off dressings in order to inspect the wounds in his chest and back. The doctor had been relaxed and cheerful, telling Adam that he was a fortunate fellow. The bullet had passed right through the flesh without hitting anything vital. The pain as the dressings came off was like being shot all over again. The doctor had revealed that, as well as the bullet wound, Adam had suffered substantial concussion, a cracked rib, severe bruising, and slight damage to the kidney area. He would make a full recovery but he’d have to rest in bed for several days, until his wounds were seen to be healing. The varied injuries had made the doctor wonder if the young man had been in a brawl, as well as a gunfight. But Adam had been too weary to explain.

‘I think I fell in with the wrong crowd,’ he said.

The doctor smiled indulgently, and made no further enquiries. He applied new dressings as gently as he could, and said that Adam’s transfusion could now be terminated, and the line removed from his arm. Adam expressed his thanks, and then asked the doctor where he was.

‘The Middlesex Hospital,’ the doctor replied.

‘In London?’ Adam expressed surprise. ‘I thought I was in Southend.’

‘You were initially taken to Southend Hospital. But someone in authority intervened. A person called James Hoskins. He wanted you transferred here.’

‘Why?’ asked Adam.

‘I don’t know. I think he must like you. He’s got one of his men on guard outside your door.’

That had brought a grunt from Adam. It was a reminder that he’d been wanted by the police. Was he still, he wondered? Why had nobody told him anything? He cleared his throat and said, ‘Has anyone been asking about me?’

‘Several people. They’ve all been told you’re OK, but you have to rest in hospital for a few days. A Miss Hart sent her love.’

That was good news. ‘Can I have visitors?’ he asked.

‘Not until Mr Hoskins says so. I don’t know who this Mr Hoskins is, but it seems we all have to do as he tells us.’

‘I think he’s second-in-command to Winston Churchill,’ said Adam.

‘That’s certainly how it looks,’ said the doctor. ‘In fact, Winston had better watch out he doesn’t take over. That reminds me, I’m supposed to let Hoskins know as soon as you’re sitting up and taking notice.’

‘I notice they’re only putting one lump of sugar in my tea,’ complained Adam. ‘D’you think you could persuade them to manage two?’

‘Don’t you know there’s a war on?’ said the doctor, falling back on the nation’s favourite excuse. ‘Still, the nurse likes the look of you, so you may be in luck. And now I’d better ring Hoskins’ office.’

‘Will you please remind him he owes me a favour? And tell him I’d like to know what the hell’s going on.’

The doctor had left his bedside with a grin. ‘I will convey the message,’ he said. ‘But perhaps not in quite those words. Anyway, I’ll see that he knows you’re becoming restless. Now try and get some sleep.’

Half an hour later a nurse had come in, wheeling a trolley with a telephone on it. Rather attractive, Adam thought, and realized he must be getting better. The nurse brought the trolley to Adam’s bedside and announced, ‘A phone call for you.’ She spoke in tones that betrayed some interest. All the staff were intrigued by their mysterious patient, and his apparent
importance
to officialdom.

Someone had thought he looked like the man whose picture had been featured after the Tilfleet murder. But a senior consultant had ruled that out. Someone else had heard that he’d escaped from Germany after a failed attempt to assassinate Hitler. Staff had been told not to ask him questions. But there was nothing to stop them speculating.

Adam had lifted the receiver and heard the now-familiar
voice of James Hoskins, apparently in genial mood. ‘How are you, dear boy?’ he asked. ‘Able to take a little nourishment?’

‘I’m surviving, thanks, but I’m confused.’

‘Confused?’

‘No one’s telling me anything. Why can’t I have visitors? And there’s a guard outside my door.’

‘Ah yes. Arthur French, one of our best men. Very
experienced
. You’ll be all right with him.’

‘But why is he there? Am I under arrest?’

‘You could put it like that if you wanted to.’ Hoskins sounded amused. ‘Or you could call it protective custody.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘None. They both mean you’re not going anywhere. But then I don’t suppose you feel like going anywhere. The thing is, at present I can’t have you talking to anyone except hospital staff. And they have orders not to discuss anything except medical matters. It’s just until I can give you a proper briefing.’

‘Can’t you do that now?’

‘No, sorry, old chap. Unfinished business. But don’t worry, Jane’s all right, she knows you’re all right, and everything’s under control. With a bit of luck, I’ll be in tomorrow. Till then, no chattering about recent goings-on. Understand?’

‘I suppose so,’ Adam had reluctantly conceded. By now he was tired. He wasn’t sorry when Hoskins rang off and he was free to go back to sleep again.

That had been yesterday. Today Adam felt stronger. His
recollections
completed, he decided that he would definitely wake up and drink that cup of tea. It was now only lukewarm, but seemed to contain at least two sugars. He was further cheered by the presence of a couple of biscuits. Intravenous feeding was all very well, but he’d be glad to start using his teeth again.

There were headphones hanging over the bed-head. With these, Adam could listen to the BBC Home Service or the Forces’ Programme. During these last few days he’d caught some news bulletins, but he’d always fallen asleep before the end. More
alert today, he tuned in to an Agatha Christie whodunnit on
Afternoon Theatre
.

After fifty minutes, the detective had gathered all the suspects together in the drawing room, and was just about to denounce the culprit when the door of Adam’s room opened and in came James Hoskins, wearing a neat dark suit and a cheery smile. There was a red carnation in his button-hole.

‘Good afternoon, dear boy,’ he said.

The nurse had followed him in, and she put a chair for him at Adam’s bedside. Hoskins thanked her, and then politely
indicated
that he’d like to be left alone with her patient. The nurse left, a little disappointed, and Hoskins sat down, resting his furled umbrella on the floor.

‘How are you feeling today?’ he enquired.

‘D’you mind hanging on a moment?’ asked Adam. ‘I’m listening to the end of an Agatha Christie.’

‘Which Agatha Christie is it?’ Hoskins demanded.

‘It’s about a chap called Ackroyd.’

‘
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
,’ said Hoskins. ‘The narrator did it. Now switch it off, there’s a good chap. I’ve a lot to do today.’

Adam sighed and complied. This was no time to fall out with the man in charge. He removed the headphones.

‘Well, dear boy,’ said Hoskins, ‘the quacks say you’ll be out of here in four or five days, and fully fit in six weeks. Good news, eh?’

‘Yes,’ Adam agreed. ‘I’ve been very lucky. But what happens then? And what’s been going on while I’ve been lying here?’

‘Let’s take the second question first, shall we? You must have heard some of the news on that thing.’ Hoskins indicated the radio.

‘I heard about the fire on the pier. And then there was some sort of attack on Broadcasting House. A group of anarchists, they said. That’s all I know.’

‘That’s all the public know. And it’s all they’ll ever know.’

‘But what about Brigden and his gang? What about the Red Brigade?’

Hoskins blew out some air through pursed lips. ‘I suppose, after all you’ve been through, you’re entitled to know the full story. But this is for your ears only. Right?’

‘All right. If that’s the way it has to be.’

‘It does,’ said Hoskins. Then he told Adam all about Brigden’s demise, the fire on the pier, the dawn arrest of all the potential insurgents, the foiled assault on Broadcasting House, the failure of the coup, and the arrest of the ringleaders.

‘Phew!’ said Adam. ‘All thanks to that logbook! Lucky the decoded version wasn’t lost in the fire!’

‘It wasn’t luck, actually. It was thanks to your boss, the
formidable
Dr Bird.’

‘Old Bossy Bird? What did she do?’

‘She was the heroine, took charge of everything. She
organized
Newman and others to get you ashore and into an ambulance. And she remembered to shove the vital documents down her Harris-tweed knickers.’

‘Brilliant!’ said Adam. ‘They’d be safe enough down there.’

‘Quite,’ said Hoskins drily. ‘Now then, I’ve had to neglect you for a few days, because there’s been a fair amount of clearing up to do. I’ve also been involved in lengthy discussions about your future.’

‘My future?’

‘Oh yes, you do have one. It looked a touch bleak at first. Possibly a long spell in chokey on account of all the offences you committed. Including the capital crime of hitting a policeman.’

‘That was a mistake,’ said Adam. ‘And I did help at the end, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you did. And that’s the point I’ve been making. Fortunately, I have a few fairly influential friends. I’ve been bending their ears on your behalf.’

‘Thanks. Any luck?’

‘A lot more than you deserve, dear boy. No charges will be brought. Adam Webber died in the Blitz. You’re Adam Carr, and you’re a free man.’

‘Wow!’ Adam attempted to raise his arms in jubilation, but they didn’t get very high. He winced and sank back on his pillow, but there was a broad smile on his face.

‘There is a condition.’

‘Ah. I might have guessed. Oh well, as long as it’s nothing illegal.’

‘The one vital thing is that you have to keep your mouth shut. The government’s imposed a total security clamp-down on this whole business. People must never know there was nearly a revolution. And the Home Guard’s reputation must remain untarnished.’

‘But surely everyone’s heard about the attack on Broadcasting House!’

‘An isolated incident. A bunch of left-wing students who’d dressed up in combat gear, obtainable at any army surplus store. Not connected with the accidental fire on Southend Pier.’

Something clicked in Adam’s brain. ‘So how did I manage to get shot?’

‘You didn’t,’ said Hoskins, ‘you were hit by flying debris while working at the Marine Research place. That’s all that happened. And if you ever say anything different, you’ll be locked up in the Tower of London for a hundred years. Have you got that?’

‘Yes, I’ve got it,’ said Adam. He was still euphoric over his escape. He relaxed and thought for a moment. ‘I still can’t get over the Oozlum Bird saving the nation. I shall look on her with new respect.’

‘Ah. Sorry. The sad fact is, henceforth you won’t be looking on her at all.’

‘My God! You don’t mean …’ Adam hesitated.

‘No, I don’t. But she’s moving into government circles, which is almost as bad. She’s been made assistant to the government’s chief scientific officer.’

‘Good for her!’ said Adam. ‘From what you say, she deserves it.’

‘Also, you won’t be doing any Marine Research for a long time. The unit on the pier was totally destroyed by the fire.’

‘There are other Marine Research units.’

‘True, but I’m afraid you won’t be working in any of them. There’s something else you need to know about your future. The fact is—’

At this moment the door was knocked on and opened and the security man put his head round.

‘Excuse me, sir. Miss Hart is here. You said to tell you when she arrived.’

‘Yes. Thank you, French. Just ask her to wait half a minute, would you?’

‘Very good, sir. And there’s a man with her,’ said French.

‘Right. The same goes for him. And check his identity, please.’

French withdrew, and Hoskins addressed the patient sternly. ‘Adam, that embargo extends to what you say to Miss Hart. When I spoke to her on the phone, she thought the whole shenanigans was about some black market racket. She’s to go on believing that. Otherwise she could face charges of obstructing the police. OK?’

Adam had been looking forward to explaining everything to Jane. However, there was no option but to agree, so he did. ‘OK, if you insist.’

‘I do. No doubt the man with her is that Dudley fellow you were living with. I assume he thinks the same as Miss Hart. He too must retain that illusion.’

Once more Adam nodded his assent. Then Hoskins went to the door and told French to let the visitors in.