Alan Hunter: Gently by the Shore

‘It had to come, Louey,’ he said grimly, ‘there has to be an end to this sort of thing.’

‘Ha, ha, ha!’ giggled Nits, dancing around them and brandishing Louey’s knife, ‘we’ll take him away now — we’ll take him away!’

Gently put out his hand for the knife. It was a curious weapon. The hilt and blade were one piece of steel, the former heavy, the latter relatively light and narrow. On each side of the hilt was engraved the mark of the TSK along with a number of Egyptian hieroglyphics.

‘Double-edged, about three-quarters of an inch wide,’ mused Gently, ‘it couldn’t be any other… it would have to be this one.’

Louey struggled up into a sitting position. He was still gagging for breath, his face was grey. He stared at Gently, at the knife, at the discreet links shackling his enormous wrists. ‘No!’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘you weren’t big enough… you just weren’t big enough!’

Gently nodded sadly and slipped the knife into his pocket. ‘It’s you who weren’t big enough, Louey… that was the mistake. We’re none of us big enough… we’re just very little people.’

Half the Starmouth Borough Police Force seemed to be congregating in the garden as Gently led Louey out. There was the super with Copping and three or four plain-clothes men, at least ten constables and the complete Special Branch outfit. Dutt came panting up the steps, relief showing in his face at the sight of the handcuffs and an unmarked Gently.

‘You’re all right then, sir — he never give you any trouble?’

Gently shrugged faintly. ‘About the routine issue…’

‘And Peachey, sir — you got him away safe and sound?’

‘Safe and sound, Dutt… all Peachey had was a scare.’

‘By thunder, Gently, you’ve pulled off a splendid piece of work!’ exclaimed the super, striding across. ‘I have to admit it — I thought you were going to fall down over this fellow. I suppose it’s unnecessary to ask whether you’ve got the goods on him?’

‘I got him red-handed… he was going to stab Peach with a TSK patent executioner’s knife. I think we’ll find it adds up to the weapon which was used on Stratilesceul.’

‘You’re an amazing fellow, Gently!’ The super gazed at him with honest admiration. ‘You’re not an orthodox policeman, but by heaven you get the results!’

There was a cough of some penetrative power indicative of the near presence of Chief Superintendent Gish. ‘I’m sure you’ll forgive me for interrupting,’ he observed bitterly, ‘but we, at least, have still some business to transact in this affair. I take it that Chief Inspector Gently no longer has any objections to my carrying out my duty?’

Gently signified his innocence of any such desire.

‘Then possibly Peach can be produced to answer a few of my irrelevant questions?’

Gently deposited Louey with Dutt and took a few steps towards the edge of the wildered garden. ‘Peachey!’ he called softly.

There was a rustling amongst some rhododendrons.

‘Peachey… it’s all right. We’ve got Louey under lock and key. You can come out now.’

There were further rustlings and then the parrot-faced one emerged. He was still trembling in every limb and his knees had a tendency to buckle, but the sight of so many policemen reassured him and he walked shakily over to the front of the house.

‘That’s the boy, Peachey… nobody’s going to hurt you.’

‘You got his kn-knife?’ gabbled Peachey, darting a wild-eyed glance at his shackled employer.

‘Yes, Peachey, we’ve got his knife… everything’s as safe as houses. All we want now is a little information — just a little, to begin with! I suppose you’re in a mood to do some talking, Peachey?’

Peachey was. He had never been so much in the mood before. Shocked to his plump core by his experiences in the house, Peachey had learned the hard way that honesty was his only hopeful policy and he was prepared to give effect to that policy in all-night sittings, if that should be required. Chief Superintendent Gish, however, was more moderate in his exactions. He was obstinately and snappily interested in but one set of facts — a short-wave transmitter and some records — and when he had obtained the address of same he departed in haste, leaving Peachey to waste his sweetness on the East Coast air.

‘But you wanted a statement about the m-murder, didn’t you?’ asked Peachey aggrievedly, though with an anxious look at the silent Louey.

‘We do, Peachey… don’t you worry about that,’ Gently assured him. ‘We’ll take you right back now and you can tell us about it over a cup of canteen tea.’

‘Then there’s Frenchy… she can b-back me up…’

‘She hasn’t been overlooked.’

‘And I dare say some of the boys… it was only me what was sworn into the p-party.’

Gently nodded and urged him towards the gate. The super signed to his men and Dutt touched Louey’s arm. From below them, through the scrub trees, came a murmur like a swarming of bees, a murmur that grew suddenly, became a frenzied roar. Louey stood his ground a moment. It was another race in progress.

And then there came a second sound, a rumbling, subterranean sound

… like the first one and yet strangely unlike it. The roar of the crowd died down, but the second roar didn’t. It seemed to be vibrating the air, the trees, the very ground itself. Yet there was nothing to see. There was nothing to account for it. It was Copping who suddenly realized what was going on.

‘Run for it!’ he bellowed, ‘it’s the house — it’s going over — get the hell out of here, or we’ll all be over with it!’

A sort of panic followed his words. There was a general and high-powered movement on the part of one super, one inspector, four detective sergeants, ten constables and a plump civilian in a down-hill and due south direction. This left a balance of three to be accounted for and a backward glance by Copping revealed them in a snapshot of dramatic relation which rooted him to the ground. There was Dutt, sprawling on the pavement; Gently, racing up the path; and Louey, roaring defiance from the top of the steps. And the house was already beginning to move.

‘Come back!’ howled Copping, ‘it’s on its way — come back!’

Gently pulled up short some feet from the steps. A crack was opening like magic between himself and the house.

‘What are you waiting for?’ roared Louey. ‘Come on, Mister Chief Inspector Gently — let’s die together, shall we? Let’s die as though we were men — let’s die as though we were more than men!’

Gently measured the distance and poised himself for the leap. Louey rattled his handcuffs in ironic invitation. Then, as though his good angel had whispered in his ear, Gently flung himself backwards instead of forwards: and at the same instant ‘Windy Tops’, complete in every detail, lurched out frightfully into space…

They ran to pick him up, Dutt, Copping and two uniform men. As they pulled him to safer ground another chunk of cliff dropped thundering to the beach. Down below them a raw gap loomed, large enough to put the Town Hall in. There was a curiously unnerving smell of dank and newly-revealed gravel. On the beach was piled the debris, lapping into the sea, a cloud of dust and grit still rising from it. Gently tore himself loose from his rescuers and stared down into the settling chaos.

‘Not so close!’ shouted Copping, ‘you don’t know where it’s going to stop!’

But Gently remained staring from the edge of the yawning pit. Then he turned to Dutt, a curious expression on his face. ‘All right… fetch him up. Use that little path over there and fetch him up.’

‘Fetch him up?’ echoed Dutt. ‘Yessir. Of course, sir. But we’ll need some picks and shovels, sir, and maybe a stretcher…’