George’s scream ripped out, echoed by a gasp from the people below. Arms flailing, he clutched air and found the chains of the crane. Hanging by one hand, he swung above their heads.
For a fraction of a second Jack stood frozen with shock, then, with an explosion of movement, raced up the ladder, ran along the board-walk and flung himself out at full length on the walk above George, looking into his friend’s white face. He stretched out, trying vainly to touch him, but the distance was too great. George was a full three fingers out of reach. ‘Get your other hand on to the chain,’ Jack commanded.
‘I can’t.’ George’s voice was a thin whisper of despair. Jack looked at the clutching hand so frustratingly close. George’s hand only just encircled the link of the chain. To get his other hand up would mean shifting his weight and if he did that he would certainly fall. George’s fingers tightened convulsively on the link. ‘I’m going, Jack.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Jack wrapped his legs round one of the metal struts of the guard-rail and flung his body out from the board-walk, his fingers clawing forward. He grabbed George’s wrist with both hands. George’s body swung forward. Vaguely Jack heard the shouts from below and then with a rattle the chain started to move. George clutched at his arm with his other hand. With a feeling of sick horror Jack felt himself being pulled over the edge. His leg screamed a protest as he tried to force the tortured muscles to obey him. His arm was cracking, but it was his leg, his damned useless damaged leg, that was giving under the strain. Underneath him flash-bulbs flicked like lightning as the press caught the agonizing moment. He shut his eyes, trying to hold on by sheer willpower, when a voice, calm and controlled, sounded beside him and the intolerable weight was gone.
He hung limply for a moment then with a shudder clutched on to the guard-rail, heaved himself back on to the board-walk and, eyes shut, lay without moving. Gradually the noise of his harsh breathing was replaced by other sounds and he flickered his eyes open. In a sharp focus that filled all his world he saw the dust and the grain on the wood of the planks, and beyond them, a pair of boots. A hand awkwardly encircled his shoulders, helping him to sit up. It was Benson, the foreman, a large, kindly man. Jack slumped against his rough jacket, deriving enormous comfort from the man’s solid bulk. ‘What happened?’ he managed to say at last.
‘It was Mr David who did it, sir. He got up the other ladder to the cab of the crane and was coming with a rope, when we saw that you’d got Mr George’s hand off the links. So Mr David stood on the hook of the crane and I sent him along underneath Mr George and he was able to catch his legs and take the weight off you. I think we were just in time as well, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but do you think you can climb down the ladder? I’ll help you, of course.’
Jack nodded, and with a hand from the foreman, stood up, clutching the guard-rail. The man looked critically at Jack’s dragging leg. ‘Done some damage to that, haven’t you, sir?’ Jack tried to take a step forward and his knee buckled. The foreman caught hold of him. ‘Hold up, lad! Let me help you.’ He put his arm under Jack’s shoulders and helped him limp to the ladder.
With Benson below him he made a slow and jarring descent, wincing every time his foot touched metal. As he reached the ground, he turned and faced the circle of people crowding round the foot of the ladder, screwing up his eyes to avoid the jabs of light from the flash-guns.
Mr Lassiter, his face white, shook his hand. ‘Major Haldean, thank God you’re in one piece. That was one of the bravest bits of work I’ve ever seen. If you hadn’t held on to George I dread to think what would have happened.’ He stopped and swallowed. ‘Thank God you were able to get to him in time.’
Jack took a deep breath. ‘It was just as well David came along when he did, sir. He deserves a good deal of the credit.’
‘He’s getting it, don’t you worry. He showed marvellously quick thinking.’ Mr Lassiter turned to the foreman and held out his hand. ‘And you too, Benson. I saw what you did. Thank you.’
The foreman smiled shyly and shook the outstretched hand. ‘It wasn’t anything really, sir. Not put against what this gentleman did.’
‘It won’t be forgotten, Benson, I can promise you that. Can I get you anything, Major Haldean?’
‘I’d like my stick, sir,’ said Jack tightly. ‘I don’t usually need it, but just now I could do with it.’
Mr Lassiter picked up the stick Jack had flung at the foot of the ladder in his dash upwards. ‘Here you are.’ He turned to the crowd pressing round them. ‘Make a bit of room there, please. George is over here, Major. If you come this way, you can sit down.’ The crowd parted and, leading the way, Mr Lassiter took him over to where George, nursing his arm, was sitting with David Lassiter. Mr Lassiter beckoned to a waiter, took a drink and pressed it into Jack’s hand.
Jack held the glass and raised it in salute to George and David. He took a sip but the reaction had set in and the alcohol made him feel slightly sick. Flash-bulbs flared again as the pressmen caught the moment. He held up his hand to ward off the barrage of questions from the reporters. ‘I’ll talk to you properly later. We all will.’ He saw Joe Hawley and motioned to him. ‘Joe, call off the pack, will you? I promise I’ll give you all a lovely quote for tomorrow’s paper but just give us some time, will you?’
‘Gentlemen?’ said Mr Lassiter.
The pressmen grinned. ‘Very well, sir.’
Jack put the glass down as the crowd thinned out and looked up to see Stella Aldryn and Peggy Culverton. Habit made him try and stand.
‘Don’t get up, Major Haldean,’ said Mrs Culverton quickly, ‘When I think what could have happened . . .’ She broke off, sat down beside David and shot him an anxious glance. David smiled reassuringly at her.
Stella Aldryn put her hand on George’s arm. Her eyes were frightened.
‘I’m all right,’ he said awkwardly, constrained by his grandfather and the crowd around them. ‘Honestly, I’m all right.’ He tried to cover her hand with his and gave a sharp intake of breath.
‘What is it?’ asked Stella anxiously.
‘Nothing much. I’ve crocked my arm, that’s all.’ He gave a covert glance at Mr Lassiter. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Stella swallowed, followed his glance and nodded in understanding. With a deep breath she let go of his arm and pushed her way back into the crowd.
‘What happened, George?’ asked David. ‘Why were you up there in the first place?’
George raised his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘It sounds stupid, I know, but there was a cat stuck on the board-walk. It never occurred to me there was any danger. After all, the workmen are up there all the time. Even now I don’t know what went wrong.’
‘You slipped,’ said Jack.
George put his hand to his mouth. ‘My feet just seemed to go from under me. There might have been some oil spilled up there or something.’
‘Oil?’ David Lassiter’s eyebrows rose. ‘Someone’s going to hear about it if there was. Are you sure, George?’
‘No, I’m not. I wish I was sure but it was over so quickly it’s hard to pin down exactly what did happen. I know I was treading on solid ground and then it all seemed to open up in front of me. I just managed to grab that chain in time.’ He smiled ruefully at Jack. ‘And then you came along. Thanks, old man.’
Jack offered him a cigarette with a grin. ‘I feel as if my arm should be as long as an orang-utan’s after having you dangling off it.’ George laughed and Jack looked at David. ‘Thanks for the way you weighed in there. I couldn’t have held him much longer.’
David Lassiter shook his head. ‘It was the obvious thing to do.’ He stood up and offered his arm to Mrs Culverton. ‘Nigel was about to make a speech. I think we’d better go and listen to him.’
Followed by Mr Lassiter, David and Peggy Culverton walked away, the crowd drifting after them.
Across the room a hammer banged on the table for silence and Nigel Lassiter started to speak. George leaned forward and, nodding towards Nigel, lowered his voice. ‘He’s a bit of a contrast to his brother, isn’t he? The plane’s fantastic, Jack, but I can’t say I like Nigel much.’
‘Me too,’ agreed Jack. It seemed to be a long time since Nigel had snubbed him yet it could only be half an hour or so.
‘I think he’s a bully,’ said George unexpectedly.
Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Why?’
‘It was what he said to Stella. When I got down from the crane everyone was fussing over me and David. Nigel was speaking to Stella. She’d come forward to see how I was. Nigel looked at her and said something – I couldn’t catch what – and then he added, “Bloody fool.” He was furious, Jack. You should have heard him.’
‘Bloody fool? That’s a bit rich. If it makes you feel any better, I imagine he was talking about you. There’s no doubt which story’s going to be headline news and he probably resents his press coverage being taken over.’
George frowned. ‘I didn’t think he was speaking about me,’ he said doubtfully. ‘He didn’t look in my direction at all. I’m sure it was Stella he was angry with. Now I’ll grant you he might think I’m an absolute idiot, fooling around on top of the board-walk, but what’s Stella done? I can’t stand the idea of him talking to her like that. He shouldn’t swear at any girl, especially not one who works for him. She can’t tell him to go to the devil,’ he added. ‘It’s not fair.’ There was a long pause. ‘Jack,’ he continued hesitantly, ‘are you going to tell Inspector Rackham about David and . . . and well, you know what I mean.’
Jack took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got to.’
George’s eyes narrowed. ‘Even after what he’s done?’
‘Yes.’ He flinched at George’s expression. ‘What else can I do?’ he demanded. George didn’t answer. ‘I’ve got to, George,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve got to play fair with Bill.’ Again George said nothing but his silence was more telling than any words could be. ‘I’m going to tell him the whole story though, not just part of it. David saved both of us. I know that.’
And he had. That’s what made it so very hard.
William Rackham rang the doorbell of Mrs Culverton’s flat. He glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock in the evening.
He had already seen Anne Lassiter and, although she was the one caught out, it was Rackham who felt like the guilty party, as if he had done something utterly crass, such as using bad language in church or taking pennies from a beggar’s hat. She was – Rackham felt the full force of this – a lady. She greeted him with guarded politeness and, in the quiet of the library at Eden Street, listened while he stated his case. Reduced to its brutal essentials it was that she was a liar. Anne listened in silence, then raised her head.
‘You’re right, Inspector. When Roger realized what I had done he advised me to tell you what actually occurred. I chose not to take his advice.’
She was, astonishingly, going to leave it there.
‘When did Dr Maguire realize that you had given Mrs Culverton a false alibi?’
‘This afternoon, Inspector. I foolishly said more than I intended and Roger guessed what had happened. You mustn’t think that Dr Maguire was involved in my deception.’
He demanded more details and Anne, reluctantly, provided them. She had left Eden Street with Peggy Culverton as she had stated and gone to Peggy’s flat. That was true. Then – she couldn’t exactly recall but it must have been after six o’clock – she had left Peggy. She was hungry and had called into her club, the Three Arts in Piccadilly, for something to eat. There she had met some friends – Rackham had their names and addresses – and they had decided to go to Hurry Along! and for supper afterwards. And that was that. She refused to offer any defence or any explanation and Rackham had unhappily taken his leave.
And now he was standing outside Mrs Culverton’s front door waiting to tell another woman she was a liar. David Lassiter, whom he proposed to tackle later, would make a nice change, he thought ironically.
Jack hadn’t envied him the interview. He had sounded tired and dispirited on the phone, as if the colour had been drained out of him. David Lassiter, Jack had been at pains to point out, had saved his and George’s lives that afternoon. The man was a hero. Jack had left him in no doubt. The story would be in tomorrow’s press, and he had to be cautious with heroes. However, Jack’s very depression pointed to the fact that he believed that at long last there seemed to be a credible motive attached to a credible suspect in the Culverton case.
There were footsteps behind the door. Rackham straightened himself up as the door was opened not by Mrs Culverton but by David Lassiter. The startled apprehension in the man’s eyes told him that Lassiter knew why he was there. Lassiter hesitated, then held the door open. ‘You’d better come in.’ He turned and called down the corridor of the flat. ‘Peggy, Inspector’s Rackham’s here.’
Following David Lassiter, Rackham went into the sitting room. Mrs Culverton stood by the bay window. She wore a red, square-necked dress and, as she stood, framed against the tapestry curtains, she fleetingly reminded Rackham of a picture he’d seen of Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary, Queen of Scots, Rackham thought, had been well loved if controversial, with great dignity and unquestionable presence. She’d also been accused of murdering her husband, her adulterous, deeply unsatisfactory husband. The parallel caught him off guard. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Culverton,’ he said. That wasn’t what he’d intended to say but her still presence demanded courtesy. She didn’t answer but stood, waiting with a questioning, wary smile and guarded eyes. ‘The fact is,’ he continued, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt, ‘I’ve got good reason to believe that your account of how you spent the evening of 31st October is inaccurate.’
She gave a little sigh.
‘Are you calling Mrs Culverton a liar?’ demanded David Lassiter.
She held up her hand. ‘David, please.’ Her shoulders dropped and her smile faded, leaving only tiredness. ‘What exactly do you know, Inspector?’ she asked quietly.
‘I know,’ said Rackham, ‘that you did not spend the evening with Anne Lassiter.’ Looking at her defeated face he felt like a clumsy brute. And that’s ridiculous, he told himself savagely. This woman had lied to him and if it wasn’t for Jack she would have continued to lie. He looked at David Lassiter, glad to turn away from that pale, weary face. ‘I’m sorry to talk about your private affairs, sir, but I also have good reason to believe that you and Mrs Culverton are more than friends.’ He glanced apologetically at her. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Culverton, but the lack of motive for your husband’s death has plagued the investigation. You must see that your failure to tell the truth about that evening makes you – both of you – open to suspicion.’
‘For God’s sake!’ David Lassiter stepped towards him. ‘What are you saying, man? That I killed Culverton?’
Mrs Culverton held out her hand to him. ‘David, be fair. After all, it’s what we were afraid of. It’s what I’ve been afraid of all along.’ She looked at Rackham. ‘You’re wrong, Inspector. You’re very wrong.’ She indicated the armchairs either side of the fireplace. ‘Please, sit down. David, we have to tell the truth.’
She sat on the edge of the chair and wrapped her hands around her knee. ‘We were frightened, Inspector. Both of us knew perfectly well the construction that could be put on our actions but it was all so much simpler than you believe.’
She glanced reassuringly at David Lassiter, still standing beside her. ‘You know what my husband was like, Inspector. Everything I said about him was true. There’s a new law which makes it possible for a woman to divorce her husband. I had been thinking about leaving him for some time but it’s a huge step to take.’ She shrugged. ‘I was nervous and unsure. Alexander wasn’t the sort of man to make things easy for me. I . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I was worried about what people would say.’
She smiled, fleetingly. ‘That matters to me, Inspector. It’s silly to pretend it doesn’t.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It all changed when I found the newspaper cuttings and those postcards. I told you what happened. I fled. I honestly can’t think of another way of putting it. I went to Anne and it was she who pointed out I had a ready-made refuge in this flat. I could have stayed at Eden Street, I know that, but it would have meant explaining exactly what I was so afraid of. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After all –’ she smiled briefly once more – ‘I knew it sounded ridiculously melodramatic. If Mr Lassiter had any hint of what I believed he would have first tried to reason me out of it and then, if I did convince him, insisted on my going to the police. I didn’t want to do either of those things. All I wanted to do was hide.’
‘Did you tell Mrs Lassiter about the newspaper cuttings?’ asked Rackham.
Peggy Culverton nodded. ‘Oh yes. I don’t know if she agreed with my interpretation of them but she saw how scared I was.’ She smiled once more, a genuine smile this time. ‘Anne knew exactly what to do.’ She reached up and took David Lassiter’s hand. ‘She called David.’
Rackham coughed. ‘Did Mrs Lassiter know you were . . .’ He stopped, warned by the sudden, dangerous light in David Lassiter’s eyes, and tried again. ‘Did Mrs Lassiter know about your relationship?’
‘But we didn’t have a relationship,’ said Peggy Culverton. ‘Not then. I liked David, liked him a great deal, but it had never occurred to me to do anything about it.’ She squeezed Lassiter’s hand. ‘As I said, Inspector, it matters to me what people think and – well, I suppose I’m rather a conventional person.’
Lassiter’s hand tightened on hers. ‘You believe in marriage, Peggy,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t apologize for that. So do I.’ He looked at Rackham. ‘I hadn’t realized that Anne knew anything about my feelings for Peggy. They were real enough, even though there was nothing between us. When I got the phone call from Anne saying Peggy was desperately upset, I came straight here from the works at Tilbury. Anne, very tactfully, faded away.’
‘I didn’t know she’d gone,’ said Peggy Culverton thoughtfully.
‘What happened next?’ asked Rackham.
‘For God’s sake!’ said Lassiter desperately. ‘What d’you think happened?’
Rackham held up his hand. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, sir. As I say, I have no desire to poke around in your private affairs. What I meant was, granted what you’ve told me, it would be natural for you to try and find Mr Culverton. I know that in the same circumstances, I’d be tempted to get hold of him, if for no other reason than to warn him to stay away from Mrs Culverton.’
‘You did think that, David,’ said Peggy Culverton. ‘You asked me where you could find him. You said you wanted a word.’
Lassiter suddenly grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, I think I put it rather more strongly.’ He let out a deep breath. ‘All right, Inspector. When Peggy told me how scared she’d been and what she believed Culverton to be, I wanted to find him. I had visions of giving him a damn good hiding – I would have beaten the truth out of him – then hauling him off to the police. Peggy said he had rooms at the Mulciber Club. My idea was to go there and either see him right away or wait for him to turn up. However . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Peggy didn’t want me to leave her.’
‘I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone,’ she said quickly. ‘Not then.’
‘So you stayed here?’ asked Rackham.
Lassiter nodded. ‘So I stayed here. It was the early hours of the morning before I finally left. The next day I went round to Culverton’s office, hoping to see him, but his secretary, Lloyd, told me he had gone to Paris. I left a message for Culverton to get in touch when he got back and that was about that.’ He shrugged and, walking to the sideboard, poured himself a whisky and soda. Leaning against the sideboard he held the glass thoughtfully. ‘Anne covered up for us. Peggy didn’t want anyone to know how things were between us.’
Peggy Culverton drew her breath in. ‘No. No, I didn’t.’ She looked at him. ‘I didn’t want you to see Alexander, David. I simply wanted to get a divorce as quickly and as painlessly as possible and if he had any idea we cared for each other he would have used that against us. I wanted you to stay away from him. I said so. You thought you could get the truth out of him but you didn’t seem to realize – nobody ever did seem to realize – just how dangerous he was. Even if you had taken him to the police he’d have got out of it somehow. He’d have destroyed you, David.’
Lassiter took a long drink. ‘I wasn’t frightened of him.’
Mrs Culverton turned away for a moment. ‘Perhaps you should have been.’
Rackham looked from Peggy Culverton to David Lassiter. ‘So when you got the news Culverton was dead, why didn’t you tell the truth?’
David Lassiter gave a short laugh. ‘Because neither of us is stupid, Inspector. As it happened, Anne had given Peggy an alibi. When we heard the news of Culverton’s death she wanted to tell the truth but I asked her to keep stumm. I expected you to find the killer pretty quickly and then, after a decent interval, I was going to ask Peggy to marry me. But, as time went on, it became obvious that you couldn’t find the killer and would be very interested in anyone who’d had a motive. What happened? Did Anne’s conscience get the better of her?’
‘David!’ said Mrs Culverton, shocked. ‘Anne wouldn’t let us down.’
‘She didn’t,’ said Rackham. ‘The truth came out by accident, as it often does.’
Lassiter grimaced. ‘I don’t suppose this afternoon helped. I know Maguire put two and two together. I could see him doing it.’ Rackham didn’t contradict him. Lassiter put down his glass with a sharp click. ‘How could we have told you the truth? I didn’t kill Culverton but there’s no denying I might have done if I’d got hold of him that night.’
‘Is there anyone who can support your story, Mr Lassiter?’ asked Rackham. ‘Is there anyone who saw you leave this flat, say?’
David Lassiter shook his head. ‘I wish there was, Inspector, but no.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I was trying not to be seen, you understand. I simply slipped away as quietly as I could.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m innocent but I know how it looks. What will you do?’
Rackham got to his feet. ‘At the moment, nothing, sir. However, I must ask both you and Mrs Culverton to stay in London for the time being.’
Peggy Culverton rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, Inspector.’ She sounded genuinely grateful. ‘The last few days have been awful. Watching, wondering . . . Just being afraid.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I’m glad in a way the truth’s come out. Now it has, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it might be.’ She glanced at David. ‘Thank God I stopped you going to find Alexander that night. He was dangerous, David. You were so sure you’d have it your way but he would have struck back, you know.’
‘So you tell me,’ said Lassiter. ‘You’ve been frightened of him for too long, Peggy. It’s over now.’
She breathed a deep sigh of relief. ‘Yes, it’s over now.’ She half-smiled. ‘I’m glad. It’s hard to believe. I feel as if I’m coming back to life again.’ She looked at Rackham. ‘I’m sure, as sure as I can be of anything, that he was the man you were looking for. I don’t know if this makes sense, but he was empty, empty in a frightening way. He could only destroy, not create.’ She shook her head with a little choking noise. ‘I never knew that about him until afterwards. Even the things he had cared about he destroyed. When I first met him he really did care about his business and he had plans, great plans in a way. That was real but even that was destroyed.’
‘Wasn’t he successful?’ said Rackham, startled.
‘Like everything else, Inspector, it was all show. Empty show. The company couldn’t have lasted, the way he ran it. It would have gone under.’ David Lassiter moved towards her protectively. ‘David knows the truth. Alexander was no longer a rich man and I am certainly no longer a rich woman.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Lassiter quickly.
She turned and smiled at him and, for the first time since he had met her, Rackham could sense she was happy. ‘No, it doesn’t, does it, David? I’m glad I stopped you from going to find him that night.’
Which was, Rackham thought as he walked down the stairs from the flat, very moving and very convincing. He wanted to believe it was true. The trouble was, as he remarked to Jack the next day, even though it chimed in with Anne Lassiter’s story and Gilchrist Lloyd confirmed that David Lassiter had enquired after Culverton on 1st November, he wasn’t completely sure it was.
Nigel Lassiter strode into his father’s office, slamming the door behind him.
David, who was standing by his father’s desk, jerked his head up. ‘What the hell’s got into you?’
Nigel ignored him and threw down a letter in front of Mr Lassiter. ‘Read that. Just read that. That bloody woman!’
Mr Lassiter gazed at his furious son, then picked up his reading glasses and glanced at the superscription. ‘From Mrs Culverton. Thank you . . . efforts involved . . . of great interest . . . long association . . . cannot see my way to . . . however. . . however . . .’ He put down the letter and drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘It could be worse,’ he said at last. ‘It could be a great deal worse.’
‘How?’ demanded Nigel, flinging himself into a chair. ‘We don’t get another penny from her until the maiden flight to India. India, for God’s sake! I don’t care about India, it’s a week on Friday I’m bothered about. If I can’t get some more money we’ll have to call off the dinner and we’ll look like complete idiots.’
David picked up the letter and read through it. ‘She says she expects the final cost of the aircraft to reflect the money already paid towards the project by Culverton Air Navigation.’
‘She says she’ll fund part of the production – part, mind you – if we agree to virtually give her a blasted plane. How the blazes are we supposed to make any money out of that?’
David’s voice was deliberately calm. ‘I can’t help thinking that’s fair enough, Nigel.’
‘You would. You’ve never believed in the Pegasus. Why didn’t you tell the bloody reporters it was going to crash on take-off? It’s what you expect, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not expecting anything of the sort,’ said David patiently. ‘For God’s sake, Nigel, you know it needs more work.’
Nigel Lassiter buried his head in his hands. ‘Work! That’s all I ever do. I’ve worked so hard and this – this bloody letter – is all the thanks I get for it. We need sales. I need money.’
‘The press presentation caused a lot of interest,’ said Mr Lassiter. ‘Some of the comments make wonderful reading.’
Nigel looked up. ‘So what? They were bound to like it. They couldn’t but like it. I was relying on Culverton’s. What the devil does she mean, she expects a substantial reduction? Does she want me to be grateful? Why the hell should I be?’
David folded his arms and sat on the corner of the desk. ‘What now? The company’s stretched as it’s never been before. If we had the funds we could carry the seaplane until orders came in but we haven’t. I’ll freely admit it, Nigel, the plane’s a beauty. Once you’ve had a successful maiden voyage to India, the aircraft will virtually sell itself. But – and it’s a big but – you’ve got to get her to that stage. Is there anyone else you can approach?’
Nigel’s shoulders sank. ‘I don’t know.’ He bit his nails broodingly. ‘The firm will have to pay up. You’ll just have to give me the money.’
‘We haven’t got it!’ said David angrily. ‘I always said this was too big a project for us.’
‘Yes, I know. You wanted to stick with your businessmen’s bus. You’ve got it in for me, David. You want me to fail. Ever since Thomas’s crash you’ve been trying to undermine me. Don’t deny it. You know it’s true but it was his fault, not mine. He couldn’t control the plane.’
David Lassiter got to his feet and, hands opening and closing, towered over his brother. ‘You think I’ve got it in for you, do you?’ he said in a deceptively quiet voice. ‘You think Thomas was to blame?’ His hand shot out, grasping Nigel’s shirt and hauling him to his feet. ‘Well, let me tell you –’
Nigel, his dark eyes alight with fear, wriggled as helplessly as a worm on a hook.
Mr Lassiter brought his fist crashing down on the table. ‘David! Calm down.’ David Lassiter didn’t respond. ‘David!’
David slowly turned his head to look at his father, then, like a man coming up from underwater, looked at his hands, shook himself and released his grip.
Nigel dropped back into the chair, staring at his brother. ‘You damned lunatic,’ he said softly. David was staring at his hands. Nigel straightened out his shirt. ‘It’s not safe to be in the same room as you.’
Mr Lassiter smacked his fist down on the table again. ‘Nigel! That was completely uncalled for. David, you mustn’t let your temper get the better of you, no matter what the provocation.’
David, still staring at his upturned hands, blinked and looked at his father. It was as if he was coming back from somewhere very far away. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I forgot myself for the moment.’
Nigel, still straightening his tie, continued to stare at David. ‘What about me? Don’t I deserve an apology?’
David, white-lipped, swallowed and flexed his hands. Nigel instinctively started back in his seat.
Mr Lassiter leaned forward warningly. ‘David!’ he said urgently.
David Lassiter took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. ‘Sorry,’ he said evenly.
A thin smile curled Nigel’s mouth. ‘That’ll do, I suppose. Now, if we can return to business, I’d like to point out that Mrs Culverton has given us all a problem. This firm needs the Pegasus and I’d like to remind you both that you promised you’d see the Pegasus through, not abandon it at the last minute. I need money!’
‘The press presentation –’ began Mr Lassiter.
Nigel cut him off. ‘The press presentation! Don’t talk to me about that. Yes, we got mentioned in the aviation papers but the Pegasus should have been headline news. What happened? All the coverage was about that South African idiot and his pal, to say nothing of Daring David here, cavorting around the roof. I wish the bloody idiot had fallen off. It would have served him right.’
Mr Lassiter took off his glasses and stared very hard at his son. Then he placed his hands flat on the desk in front of him and concentrated on keeping them steady. Nigel, suddenly aware that he had gone drastically too far, swallowed and waited. When Mr Lassiter eventually spoke, it was in a quiet, even voice that Nigel had only heard a very few times before. ‘That South African idiot, as you call him, is my grandson. I do not feel I have to add to that statement. If you –’ here he gave Nigel such a withering glance that he flinched – ‘had an ounce of his concern for others then I would be a far happier man. I could describe your character; I prefer to leave such things unsaid. As for the Pegasus, unless fresh money is forthcoming soon, then I am afraid that the seaplane will have to be postponed until we have recouped at least some of our losses.’
Nigel glanced at him then fumbled for a cigarette. ‘Postponed?’ He rubbed his forehead and gave his father an agonized look. ‘You don’t mean it, do you? You can’t.’ He mouth twisted. ‘Look, it’ll be all right. I’m sorry I said that about George. I didn’t mean it. You must know I didn’t mean it. You can’t hold it against me, not now. All I need is a bit more money to bridge the gap. It’s going to be a success. You must help. We’ve got to fly next week. It’s all arranged. It was Anne who suggested I host a dinner, a dinner in the air over London. If it wasn’t for Anne I could have postponed the first flight but I’ve got to fly next week. She said it would be a success. She’s put a lot of thought into it. You can’t let Anne down. You wouldn’t let Anne down, would you, David?’
‘That’s a bit transparent,’ commented David.
‘She really has put a lot of effort into it,’ said his father. ‘I can see she’d be disappointed if it didn’t come off. There’s been quite a bit of excitement in the press about it. And Nigel’s quite right. It would cause some very adverse comment if the dinner were to be cancelled.’
Nigel stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. ‘I can’t let that happen. I’m so close,’ he said, more to himself than to the other two men in the room. ‘I’m so very close . . .’
It was Sunday afternoon. Jack, alone in his rooms, lay in drowsy comfort full-length on the sofa, the Messenger discarded in a heap beside him. Outside, the rain-filled wind rattled against the windows. He felt a warm sense of pleasure at the contrast. A coal fell on the glowing fire, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. From the hallway below a distant telephone bell jangled. It was probably the telephone which had woken him up. He snuggled back into the cushions, gazing abstractedly at the ceiling. George was at Eden Street and it was pleasant to have only his own thoughts for company.
George had suffered as a result of his experiences at the factory. He’d wrenched the muscles in his arm and had to wear a sling all week. Still, compared with what could have happened . . . He thought once more of George’s white face and the agonized clutch of his hand and shuddered. That moment when he felt himself being pulled inexorably over the edge of the board-walk was easily one of the worst in his life. My God, but he was grateful to David.
David: his mouth tightened as he thought of David. It seemed incredible that, granted the sort of man Culverton had been, the only person who seemed to have any motive to kill him was David. Bill had put in no end of work, chasing up Culverton’s associates, but there was nothing. Peggy Culverton had a motive, of course, and, like David, a trumped-up alibi, but that was all. Bill had had a long discussion with the Assistant Commissioner about them. As the AC had pointed out, there wasn’t a shred of any real evidence, only a circumstantial case. In the AC’s opinion, once Anne Lassiter, David Lassiter and, most of all, Peggy Culverton had explained those circumstances, no jury in England would bring in a guilty verdict. And Bill’s opinion? Agnostic would probably sum it up. However, he agreed with the AC about the reactions of any jury, especially if Mrs Culverton even hinted what she believed about her husband.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Major Haldean?’ It was Mrs Pettycure. ‘There’s a telephone call for you, sir.’
Damn. ‘Thank you,’ Jack called back as he levered himself off the sofa.
Bill Rackham was on the phone. ‘Jack?’
His voice was urgent and Jack was instantly alert. ‘What is it?’
Rackham’s voice was sharp and thin with worry. ‘We were wrong about Culverton. Another girl’s been found in the river.’
‘Dead?’
‘Very dead.’ Jack could hear the emotion in Rackham’s voice. ‘She was marked with a cross. I thought this was over. I thought it had stopped but we were wrong, Jack, wrong. We’re back to square one.’