It was a hot and humid day in Mallorca and having packed a new mobile phone in my rucksack I set off from the El Cid hotel in the early afternoon for the four kilometre walk to the quiet little town of Molinar.
Before leaving London I had replied to another text message from Paul King asking how I was, and did I have any news for him. The enquiry as to my health was nice, but was probably secondary to his desire to get some information on what might be the biggest scoop and biggest payday of his journalistic career.
As I walked along the coast I rehearsed in my mind how to handle what could turn out to be my very last encounter with the mysterious Sidney Ainsworth if he failed in any way to answer some important questions I intended to put to him.
Arriving at the Café Plaza I was surprised to see how busy it was. All the outside tables were taken and there was no sign of Sidney. I perched myself on a bar stool and ordered a beer.
Where was he I wondered? Had he been and gone? I finished my beer and ordered another one and as I did so, and to my delight, I saw Sidney hobbling across the square. For a moment I did not register that it was him for there was something different about the way he looked. I could see he was dressed very smartly but he was wearing white trainers, which did not go at all with his dark blue slacks and lightweight summer jacket. He was also walking with the aid of a stick. He approached the café very slowly, pausing only to share a few friendly words with one of the waitresses. As he made his way to the bar I waved and caught his eye. I pointed at a spare stool next to mine, whereby he smiled broadly, raised his stick in the air and gingerly made his way over to me. We shuffled our stools so that we could face each other and for a few seconds simply eyed each other silently and cautiously.
Sidney took off his panama hat and laid it on the bar. I noticed he had a bruise on his forehead and a certain blue-like darkness could be seen under his eyes. Despite this I had to admit he was still quite a striking individual for his age with those sharp inquisitive grey eyes and that lined leather-tanned face.
‘How are you Adam?’ he said softly, leaning forward and grasping my hand. ‘I’m so pleased to see you again my dear boy.’
I waited while the waitress poured him a large El Toro brandy.
‘I’m fine Sidney,’ I answered.
He took a sip of brandy and then cast his eyes around the busy café as though uneasy about something.
‘Are you alone Adam?’ he said turning his gaze back to me.
‘Of course I am,’ I replied firmly.
Sidney lit one of his small cigars and then considered me for a while as the smoke drifted between us.
‘Did you read my manuscript?’ he asked very quietly and carefully.
‘Indeed I did Sidney,’ I said. ‘I was shocked and truly astonished and that’s why I have come back to see you.’
He leaned towards me, wary eyes darting left and right ensuring nobody was in hearing distance. ‘So you know who I am then?’ he said, his voice just a whisper, his eyes examining me.
I took a sip of beer and looked at him hard. ‘No, I don’t Sidney,’ I said matter-of-factly, ‘I only know who you are claiming to be.’
Sidney rocked back on his stool showing a rebuffed but cool expression. He then deliberately changed the course of the conversation. He tapped his walking stick against the sole of one of his trainers. ‘What do you think of these Adam?’ he said in a slight mocking tone. ‘I feel somewhat foolish wearing them but I had a little stumble. My landlord,’ he said – and then broke off from what he was about to say. ‘Have I mentioned to you my landlord?’ he enquired in that slow velvet voice of his. ‘He is so good to me, nothing is too much trouble for him. Lovely man. He heard that I had taken a fall and so he kindly purchased these sports shoes for me from a shop in Palma.’
Sidney’s face held a wan smile. ‘I never thought I would wear such modern things but they are so comfortable and I find I am more steady on my feet with them.’
Perhaps Sidney was right, I thought, that we should talk of other things for a little while, there was no need for me to rush this meeting.
I pointed to the bruise on his forehead. ‘Did you get that from the fall?’ I asked. He wiped a finger gently across his forehead.
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘It’s my silly fault, I should be more careful. Anyway Adam,’ he said easily, ‘I really am pleased to see you. I was never sure if you would return here – whether I would ever meet up with you again.’
Sidney took a sip of brandy and eyed me thoughtfully. ‘Other than my friends who originally helped me you are the first person I have opened up to. I hope you will forgive me for taking you into my confidence in such a selfish and dangerous way.’
‘Why me Sidney?’ I asked gently, ‘It’s not as though you know me. You took a big gamble on a stranger, Oh, and bye the way,’ I added somewhat flatly, ‘I intend to keep addressing you as Sidney.’
He smiled weakly and tapped his stick on the floor. ‘That is perfectly fine by me Adam, best it should always remain like that. I do not want to get you into any sort of trouble dear boy. I have been most presumptuous in hoping that you might help me and I will fully understand should you wish to disregard this old man you see before you. To go on your way, to forget you had ever met me. I think I have put you in danger and I feel sorry I have done that.’
For a moment he stared in the direction of the sea, his mind somewhat preoccupied. Then he turned back to me. ‘Perhaps you would allow me to explain why I took such a big chance with you.’ His conversation was, as always, slow and deliberate, his words carefully chosen. He waited for some customers to pay their bill over the counter before continuing.
‘Time was marching on for me Adam. I knew that sooner or later I would have to take a gamble on someone if I wanted my story to be told. The friends who kindly helped me in the past are no longer around. I cannot return to England or, for that matter, to any other place as my passport,’ he paused for a few seconds and threw a throwaway hand before going on, ‘my passport, if I can call it that, has long since expired. So here I must stay. Here is where I am marooned which suits me fine as this is a lovely safe place for me to see out my days.’
He lit another cigarillo and thoughtfully watched a pall of smoke rise before continuing. ‘When we first met and I asked if you would post that letter for me I offered you some money which you refused to take and your obvious honesty impressed me. We talked happily about that casino case I had been following in the papers, which you knew about and like me you were interested in horse racing. But unlike me, it seemed you could enjoy having a bet and it had not developed into a problem, which it had been in my sorry life. Anyway, Adam, I enjoyed talking with you immensely and promised myself that should I meet you again I would stick my neck out and take a chance that you might help me. Over the years I have spoken to many people who have passed by here but nobody fitted the person I was looking for until you came along. Of course it was a huge gamble, but I had made up my mind that I would take one last punt, the biggest and maybe the last of my life. I would take a chance on you.’
A waitress buzzing nearby stopped and shared a little joke with Sidney about his new trainers. It was clear that the staff at the Café Plaza held him in great affection. He was a regular here and probably their best customer no matter what time of year.
But who was he really I was still asking myself? Was he attempting to pull off the most audacious impersonation act of all time – and if so why? If that was the case then how the devil had he contrived to identify himself to an old Clermont member, one of the few people still alive who knew Lord Lucan well and could confirm his story. If he was a fraud then all this was more than just clever, it was nothing short of bloody brilliant.
These thoughts were flashing through my mind as I kept an eye out for a table to become free as where we were sitting was far from ideal with staff and customers brushing past us.
I saw a couple and their young kiddies with toy scooters vacating a table in a nice secluded spot. I picked up my beer and Sidney’s brandy and moved fleet-footed to claim it. Sidney followed slowly with his walking stick held out in front of him like some sort of water divining rod. We made ourselves comfortable, arranging our chairs to gain some shade being offered by a few magnificent palm trees that acted like giant umbrellas against the glare of the sun.
I took a sip of beer and smiled thoughtfully at Sidney, still not sure what to think or what to make of him. It was very confusing and otherworldly. I could not relate this polite soft-spoken character to the criminal that I had read so much about – a man accused of killing a young nanny in Belgravia all those years ago.
‘I have to tell you where I am with this story of yours Sidney,’ I said, keeping my voice low and restrained, although now we were in a nice quiet spot and a fair bit away from other tables and the hustle and bustle of the bar area.
‘As I said,’ I continued. ‘I did read your document and as you might imagine I was pretty horrified but also suspicious. Against my better judgement I decided to follow-up your story once it had been posted to that publishing house and so I phoned Warren not knowing what to expect.’
Sidney moved a little uneasily in his chair, his eyes focussing on me intently.
‘Anyway,’ I went on in a considered manner. ‘I met this chap Warren, and we discussed the letter you had to sent to his father, and we also talked about your manuscript. Warren was not the nicest person I had ever come across and made it clear to me that he was unable to help you, that his publishing company could in no way handle such a risky and problematical story.’
Sidney remained silent, stroking his beard and eyeing me keenly, his face giving nothing away.
‘However,’ I said, still keeping my voice low, ‘he confided in me that your letter to his father was spot on, that his dad had confirmed it could only have come from one person.’
I noticed Sidney’s eyes brighten and glitter somewhat.
‘As it was possible your manuscript might be genuine, Warren handed all the papers over to a freelance journalist associate of his named Paul King.’
Sidney suddenly shook his head and looked very agitated.
‘You haven’t told anyone where I am have you Adam?’ he asked urgently.
‘No no, Sidney,’ I said firmly, immediately calming him down. ‘I have not told a soul where you live so you need not be concerned in that respect.’
Sidney gave me a relieved smile and thanked me softly. He settled back in his chair and lit another cigar. I caught the eye of a waitress and ordered some more drinks.
‘All the same Sidney,’ I said, ‘I did meet up with this Paul King and he impressed me immensely. He told me that he had travelled down to Surrey and spoke to your friend Colin about that letter and he is satisfied that you have identified yourself to the best of your ability. He thinks he might be able to help you get your story into print. The sticking point is this Sidney. Your letter and manuscript is most compelling and interesting, but in itself is not enough proof for Paul King to be able to persuade a newspaper to buy the story. To that end, he wants to interview you, to satisfy himself that you are who you say you are.’
Sidney hunched forward tapping his walking cane on the floor, his face suddenly full of anxiety. ‘I don’t trust journalists Adam, please don’t bring him here. I would sooner forget all about this and burn the rest of my papers than allow a newspaperman to know where I am. I’m sorry, I will not go that far.’
He leaned across the table and stubbed out his cigar shaking his head in a show of frustration. He had spoken with unusual speed and certitude, and his face had drained of some colour.
‘Tell me this Sidney,’ I said softly, trying to get the conversation back on track. ‘Would you undergo an interview and give your fingerprints if I could assure you that your whereabouts would remain a secret, that nobody could have any idea where you are living?’
Sidney leaned back clutching his stick in both hands. ‘Of course I would Adam, he said quietly and confidently. ‘I am willing to undergo any sort of scrutiny to prove who I am so long as I can finish my days here in Molinar, alone and in peace. That’s all I ask. I want my story to be told but I will never allow myself to be arrested after all these years and endure a trial that would drag up so much hatred, not just against me but my family and children. I cannot allow that to happen.’
We took a little pause from talking as the waitress replenished our drinks and cleaned our table.
Sidney hunched over his brandy. ‘I’m a bad man Adam, I know that, but the media and the courts were intent on a public crucifixion, a show trial. For all the wrong I had done the retribution directed to those associated with me was not right. That’s why I have stayed in hiding all these years. The police were not just after me but also my family and friends.’
He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small pill bottle that he rattled to the side of his face. ‘I have carried these with me for what seems a lifetime and they are never far from my grasp. The label states they are for a heart condition but they are not.’ He smiled grimly and put the bottle back in his pocket. ‘Aspers sourced them for me many, many years back, and luckily I have never had recourse to swallow a couple and say goodbye to it all. I have somehow survived these last forty years but it has been unimaginably fraught. I have always been looking over my shoulder, always aware that a knock on my door might be the police. Along with that I have carried with me so much shame and guilt. Not a day goes by when I do not think about poor Sandra, about my family and more especially my children who I could never see growing up and doing well for themselves despite all the grief I had brought to bear on them.’
Sidney took out a handkerchief from his top pocket and dabbed beads of sweat from his head, carefully avoiding that nasty bruise.
‘How did you fall?’ I asked, thinking a change of subject was in order.
‘I really don’t know what happened Adam.’ he said with a tight, self-depreciating smile. ‘I wasn’t drunk or anything like that, I just keeled over.’
‘Sidney, I need to ask you something,’ I said, in a careful tone. ‘I have been reading up on the Lord Lucan case and have tried to make sense of a huge amount of information from various sources, but there is one part of the case that has baffled and intrigued me no end, something I can’t comprehend or work out.’
Sidney leaned forward and gazed at me fixedly, ready for the question.
I was now going to ask him the 64,000 dollar question, not just to hear what he might say but more importantly to get his reaction. I looked him steadily in the eyes and asked almost in a whisper. ‘Why two murder weapons?’
Sidney suddenly stared at me aghast, his eyes seemed to bulge slightly. He made to respond raising a hand towards me, but as he went to speak he started to cough. He quickly reached for his handkerchief and covered his mouth. It was as though he had swallowed something that had gone down the wrong way. He rose slowly and stumbled towards a palm tree, which he leaned against while coughing furiously. I was about to go to over to him and pat him on the back or something, but I waited and after a little while he turned and made his way slowly back to our table. Once seated he raised a hand in a gesture of apology and then wiped moisture from his forehead and wet reddened eyes.
‘Are you alright Sidney?’ I said with a note of genuine concern.
‘I’m most sorry,’ he murmured, his voice still croaky. He released a last little cough and seemed to recover his composure.
‘You took me by surprise Adam.’ he said, his voice slowly calming. ‘If you would like to know why there were two pipes, about Terry and why…’
I quickly interrupted him. ‘Terry?’ I asked, confused.
Sidney smiled apologetically and shrugged. ‘How stupid of me,’ he said, almost talking to himself. ‘Of course you would not know about Terry, nobody would. I was getting miles ahead of myself.’
Sidney had recovered from his coughing fit, so much so that he lit another cigarillo and then having sent a puff of smoke into the air took a good sip of brandy.
He inclined towards me and spoke with quiet passion. ‘Adam, the story is all there, every damned word, all typed on my trusted Olivetti. You were the first person I trusted to read the beginning of my story and I would be happy for you to read the rest. Part two is finished and but for a few words, part three and the final part of my life’s story will be completed.
Everything is explained in all its ugly detail. I have left nothing out. Better my story does not die with me but the truth is told. I have thought about doing this for many years and feel the time is now right to come clean and get all this off my chest. It’s the one decent act I can do before I die. Then the guessing and wild speculation that has gone on for the last forty years can come to an end. The police and the media had got it all wrong. That’s why it’s right for me to relate the real events while I can.
And let me tell you this Adam,’ he said, shaking his head sadly, ‘When people read my story they will know the silly conclusions they arrived at were way off the mark.’
Sidney rocked a little in his chair and considered me for a moment. Then he took off his watch and handed it to me in silence. It was a heavy, chunky Rolex. I turned it over and read the inscription on the back: ‘BE LUCKY J.A.’
‘Very nice,’ I said, as I handed it back. ‘I take it the J.A. is John Aspinall?’
Sidney nodded. ‘Aspers gave it to me a lifetime ago. It would be my insurance he told me. I believe it’s very rare. Only about a dozen were ever made. Aspers told me that if I was ever in money trouble then I would always have this watch as a guarantee to raise some money but never to part with it permanently.’ Sidney tapped the face of the watch, his face set hard with the memory. ‘Aspinall was a good and most generous friend to me. Fortunately, I have never had to pawn or sell the watch. I believe it has increased in value over the years. It would be nice if I could leave the watch to one of my children but I guess that might not be possible.’
Sidney arched his eyebrows at me as though having a sudden idea. ‘Adam,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘If anything should happen to me, please take the watch, I would very much like you to have it. I believe it’s very valuable.’
‘Thank you Sidney,’ I responded warmly, ‘That’s a most kind and generous offer, but you must hold on to it. I’m sure it means a lot to you.’
Sidney gazed at me for a few seconds, his face betraying a mixture of decades old emotions. Then he asked softly. ‘I must ask you an important question Adam.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘Do you believe who I am?’
He had taken me somewhat by surprise. I thought for a few moments and then held his eyes. ‘I’m not sure Sidney, I’m not sure what to think. All this seems so unreal, so incredible.’
He moved his chair a little closer to the table. ‘Allow me to tell you a story Adam,’ he said, his tone engaging. ‘In my letter to Colin Hedley-Davies, I mentioned a girl called Nicole and I would like to tell you the story behind that.’
I nodded and gestured for him to continue.
Sidney rested his cane between his legs and settled himself. ‘Colin and I were very good friends and regulars at the Clermont Club, although Colin was not a gambler like myself, his passion was bridge, which was also a favourite card game of mine. We played regularly at the Clermont and the Portland Club.’
Sidney lit one of his cigarillos and spoke as if to the thin trickle of smoke that drifted away into the warm air, only occasionally turning to meet my eyes. ‘We became friendly with Nicole, a young girl who worked at the Portland Club. Colin and I were very fond of her. She was French but spoke perfect English. Nicole was not only very pretty but was an excellent worker. She remembered everyone’s name, where they liked to sit and what their favourite drinks were. We would often chat with her and as time went by she let it be known to us that she would love to work at the Clermont and learn about the gaming industry. She asked us ever so discretely if we could put a word in for her. We said we would, but that it might not be easy, as the Clermont did not train their own dealers or inspectors. Aspers recruited his people ready trained from the casinos in Paris and Deuville. Nevertheless, we did manage to get Nicole a job at the Clermont once we told Aspers what a wonderful girl she was and that it would be worth the effort in giving her a foot up on the ladder and teaching her to be a dealer. On our recommendation they took her on and all went well. She took to the job like a duck to water and the players and staff loved her. She was also making good money, double what she had been earning at the Portland.’
Sidney paused for a few seconds as though turning the events over in his mind before continuing in a calm, reminiscent tone.
‘As I say, all went well for the first few months, but then suddenly there was a slight visible change in her demeanour, as though something was troubling her. I think only Colin and myself noticed this as we had come to know her so well and were keen to see her make a success of her new job.
While dining at the Criterion one evening I saw Nicole at a far table with two men I recognised as recent members of the Clermont. She did not see me and eventually they all left together. In the following weeks I became aware that whenever Nicole was dealing roulette these same two men would be gambling at her table. Whenever the opportunity presented itself I would stand behind her table and watch her dealing at a discreet distance. She was cheating – ‘palming’ high value chips. These, no doubt, she would later pass on to her two male accomplices.
One evening Colin and I waited outside the club for Nicole to finish her shift. As she approached us she looked happy but her smile quickly vanished. She knew immediately why we were waiting to see her. She stopped in front of us and began to sob. We told her that we had no intention of getting her into trouble. If Aspers knew she had been cheating at his casino he would not have called the police but would have made sure she was disgraced and her name blackened all over town.
We told her what she must do and nothing more would be said. The next day she dropped a note into the Clermont explaining that her mother had been taken ill in France and regrettably she had to return home. The club were sad to lose her, she had, all agreed, been a wonderful addition to the staff. We never saw her again.’
Sidney turned to me and let out a resigned sigh.
‘I doubt that Colin has ever related this story to a living soul and you are the first person to have heard this little tale from my lips. We would have both kept this story to ourselves for the last forty-odd years. So you see Adam,’ he said, his eyes showing a sudden intensity. ‘Though it shames me to admit it, and despite closing my mind and running away from the past, I am the person who I say I am.’
Sidney turned sorrowful eyes over my face.
‘My name is Richard John Bingham – and what’s more, I can prove it.’
I told myself to stay calm and think carefully of how I would now proceed with this meeting. ‘Sidney, you told me that you would undergo an interview and give your fingerprints if you could be assured that nobody would know of your whereabouts, is that correct?’
Sidney tapped his cane against the table and nodded solemnly. ‘Of course I will,’ he said with an easy assured tone.
‘Very well then,’ I said evenly. ‘This is the plan.’ I rummaged in my rucksack and handed Sidney a mobile phone.
He held the phone as though it might blow-up in his hand. He shook his head doubtfully which I was expecting. ‘Have you used one of these?’ I asked.
‘I know of them of course, everyone seems to have them,’ he said dubiously. ‘But I have never had the slightest reason to own one.’
I took a gulp of beer and stretched out my legs. ‘The idea Sidney, is that Paul King interviews you over the telephone.’ I spoke firmly, trying to muster enthusiasm in my voice. ‘I will ask him to use my mobile and at the end of the interview I will take my mobile back from him. That way there can be no chance that he could do a trace on the call. I don’t think he would try to do that, or if it would be possible anyway, but we will take no chances. Your whereabouts will remain a secret.’
Sidney was clutching the mobile with both hands and looking very bemused. ‘I don’t know how these work Adam.’ He laid the mobile on the table and smiled sadly.
‘It’s not easy to teach an old dog new tricks you know.’
I delved into my rucksack and handed him a charger unit, an adapter and a small user-guide booklet.
‘Just familiarise yourself with the basics Sidney,’ I said, trying to sound encouraging. ‘But don’t worry too much, just get the feel of the thing. Tomorrow I will call by your apartment at twelve noon, if that’s fine by you, and we will go over everything and have a little rehearsal. All I would ask you to do for now is put the mobile on charge before you go to bed tonight. I think you will find that quite straightforward.’ I pointed at the little booklet. ‘It’s all in there.’ Sidney nodded, still looking very doubtful and sheepish.
I finished my beer and let out a tired sigh. ‘It’s been a long day Sidney, what with my early flight. I think we should break off now and make a fresh start tomorrow.’
Sidney showed a contented smile. ‘That sounds a good idea Adam,’ he said brightly. ‘Thank you for all you are doing for me. I feel guilty that I have burdened you with so much. If my story is worth anything then I hope you will take whatever you wish, that you are rewarded for the work and the risk you are taking on my behalf. I do not want anything myself, just that my story is told and that you remain safe and come out of this on top.’
Sidney went quiet, deep in his own thoughts, gazing past me at nothing in particular.
I studied him, assembling in my mind all the strange aspects of this amazing story. That letter he had sent identifying himself, which was almost certainly genuine. His somewhat noble bearing still clinging to him, a leftover of a former life. The charming and totally believable story about the French girl which can easily be double-checked. The clear willingness to be interviewed and give his fingerprints. And that Rolex watch with its inscription. It all fitted together. The parts of the jigsaw had been gradually, and scarily locking into place.
As ridiculous as it appeared, I was looking at Lord Lucan. Surely, it had to be. Nobody could possibly conjure all this up were it not true. Could they?
I suddenly felt very tired and uneasy about the situation I found myself in. I could feel my heart fluttering and beads of sweet running down my cheeks. The palms of my hands had suddenly become wet and clammy.
But, there again, it was a very hot day.