Maurice Procter - Two men in twenty

'Somebody must have been in, and left the door open,' he decided and he was not thinking of thieves.

So he treated the unlocked door as an ordinary 'insecure'. He entered, and flashed his light around, and nothing seemed to be amiss. The door of the main office was open. It had a latch lock, and he did not notice that though the door was open, the tongue of the lock was protruding. On the other side of the main office there was an open door. It invited him, so he went that way. He stood in the doorway and flashed his light around, and saw the safe.

A policeman on night duty gets used to shocks. They disturb him only momentarily. This P.C. did not panic when his nerves jumped, though he immediately realized that there might be four, five, or six desperate men in the building with him, hiding and watching him possibly. He could have walked in there before they had had the chance to get away. That oxygen cylinder was still there, wasn't it?

His first idea was to return to the front door, not because he was afraid-being human, he was afraid-but because it was open, and a way out for fugitives. His second idea, even more essential, was to call for assistance in some way. He had reached the receptionist's desk before he remembered something about it. There was a telephone on it. Standing with his back to the open outer door, facing the danger which might come from the darkness inside the building, he dialled a number which was as familiar to him as his own name.

When he had made the call, he waited by the door. Behind him he could hear the sounds of the city, but inside Boulton's Warehouse there was utter silence. He began to realize that he was alone. The thieves had gone. Ah well, the bowler hat brigade would be here in a minute, asking sharp questions and ordering folk around. They'd find out as much as they'd found out on them other oxygen jobs, and that was damn all.

* * * * *

The following morning Mr. Barden of North Western Oxygen came into town to see Martineau. To reach the door of Martineau's small sanctum he had to walk through the main C.I.D. office. While doing so he paused and stooped to look at an oxygen cylinder which lay on the floor against the wall. He examined the cylinder near its base. His face was without expression, and he made no comment.

He rose and saw Martineau waiting in his own doorway. The two men met, and shook hands. 'Well?' Martineau asked as he indicated that his visitor should go through the doorway.

Before he answered, Barden waited until the door was closed. 'I think we're a bit nearer. Your man Birkett has been working very well with me. He's a good boy.'

Martineau nodded. It was no news to him that his boys were good boys.

Barden grinned. 'I'll give it you from the beginning, and then you'll see how clever we've been. We have a driver called Newby, Alec Newby. He's a smart lad; always clean, always on time. He comes to work in a nearly new Austin Healey, and I understand he's buying it on the never-never. The payments will be plenty, and he's not the sort to have money in the bank. He likes to run round the pubs with it, and I don't suppose he'll save a lot of money that way, either.'

'You're making your point,' Martineau said drily.

'Yes. I intend to. To continue. Newby comes from a poor family and he lives in a poor district, so it isn't likely he's being helped out by Mum and Dad. Well, I've had my eye on Newby for some time. Your man Rhodes is driving, and he can't do much, yet, except keep his eyes and ears open. But Birkett is checking. He's watching everybody, but I told him to pay special attention to Newby. He did, and eventually he saw the man slip something to a loader called Greaves. He says it was definitely surreptitious and a very slick move. He was lucky to spot it. Did Birkett report any of this to you?'

'Yes. But go on, then I'll have the whole story.'

'Well, Greaves doesn't always load Newby. Drivers don't have their own loaders: it's a case of first come, first served. But I suppose they can arrange it when they like. Newby can jockey for position, and Greaves can dawdle or make haste as the case may be, whenever it's the day for slipping him the odd cylinder. Anyway, we watched, and Greaves didn't load Newby for a week, so I thought something was about due.

'I devised a little scheme. I made out I'd received a complaint that one of our drivers had tupped somebody's nice new Ford Zephyr and driven on without stopping. I'm the nearest thing to a bobby we've got on our staff, so it was natural for me to get such an inquiry. I called in a few of the drivers and chatted 'em up and looked at their journey books and so forth, and said no it can't be you but it was definitely one of our lorries.'

'So that Newby wouldn't be suspicious when you chatted him?'

'That's right. That was last Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday morning the drivers were all talking about this so-called bump with the Zephyr, wondering who'd let the side down, and of course Newby got wind of it. He wouldn't worry, because he hadn't tupped anybody. Well, that morning Greaves loaded Newby. I was watching from the other side of the yard, and I definitely saw Newby let another driver go ahead of him so as he could get Greaves. I made myself scarce then, and phoned the checker's desk. Birkett was ready. We both knew what to do.

'Newby got loaded up, and as he drove out of the main gate there was I, on foot. I often take a walk right round the perimeter wall, to see if all is in order, so it was quite natural for me to be there. I stopped Newby, and said I'd like a word with him in my office. I wouldn't keep him more than a minute or two, I said. I told him his lorry would be quite safe outside the gate. The drive is firm's property. Nobody comes up there.

'He was quite willing. He came with me and brought his journey book, and I wasted his time quite convincingly for about twenty minutes. That was the agreed time. While I was chatting him Birkett picked up the check duplicate and sneaked out of the side gate and round to Newby's lorry. He checked the load and found Greaves had loaded one oxygen cylinder and two bottles of propane which weren't accounted for. So that was it. He'd provided himself with a diamond glasscutter, and he made a tiny mark of his own on every one of the cylinders.'

'And this cylinder we've got here?'

'It bears the mark.'

'That cylinder was left behind after the break-in at Boulton's Warehouse last night.'

'I supposed there would be something of the sort when you asked me to come into town.'

'Well, now we know the driver and no doubt there'll be a list of all his deliveries that day.'

'Here,' said Barden. He took a folded paper from his pocket and put it on Martineau's desk.

'But the actual place where the stolen gas was delivered might not be on this list?'

'It might be, it might not be. The chances are that it is. It'll be a regular customer. A driver has got to know a person fairly well before he'll start flogging him cylinders.'

'It's a pity we couldn't have followed Newby, then we'd have been sure.'

'Impossible. You can't follow one of those fellows for a day without being spotted. I know. I've tried it.'

'I expect you're right. We'll have to take a chance on this list. Then the next time Greaves loads Newby we'll have a scheme worked out whereby Newby can suddenly be called away, and a spare driver can take over his load. The spare man will be our man Rhodes, of course.'

'Today is Wednesday,' Barden said calmly. 'Greaves loaded Newby this morning. And Newby has more or less the same delivery list as he had last Wednesday. There was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't work the same gag twice. And Birkett didn't have time to double-check the load.'

Martineau frowned. 'So we're going to have another job. Come to think of it, we've been getting roughly one a week. Will Newby have the same delivery list next Wednesday?'