Dennis Wheatley - Black August

The crowd thinned, and Kenyon was able to proceed slowly through it. Soon they were running at a good pace down Victoria Street, which was almost deserted; long lines of shuttered shops, gloomy and lifeless in the shadows, for there had been more trouble at the power stations and only one side of the street was lighted.

At Westminster there were crowds again also apparently waiting for something to happen. The great bulk of the Parliament Houses loomed up grim and silent, deserted after the last momentous session. The strong iron gates were closed, and police mounted guard at the entrances. In the yard, which is habitually the parking place for Members' cars, Kenyon saw groups of soldiers sitting about or leaning on their rifles.

By sticking close behind a police van, he managed to get through the square without difficulty, and round the corner to Westminster Bridge, but to his surprise he found the bridge head guarded. A large tank stood in the middle of the road, chains had been drawn across from side to side and detachments of police stood on either pavement. An inspector came forward.

'Can't I go through?' asked Kenyon.

'No, sir. I'm sorry, but this bridge has been closed to traffic and pedestrians.'

'But why?'

'Well, it's not that we mind people going south, sir, but to prevent them coming over from the other side. If we took the barrier down they might rush us.'

'Good gracious, who?' smiled Veronica looking at the empty bridge.

The inspector grinned. 'You'd soon see, miss, if you was on the other side. That's where the real barrier is; this is only a sort of second line. They're a real ugly lot over by the County Hall tonight.'

Kenyon nodded. He had meant to avoid the worst districts on the south side by going out of London via Brixton and Herne Hill, then through Bromley into Kent. Now he would have to rearrange his plans. 'Are all the bridges closed?' he asked.

'No, sir, it's just the Houses of Parliament and the Government offices round Whitehall that we're anxious about at the moment. It's important that there should be no trouble round here.'

'I want to get on to the Maidstone Road,' Kenyon confided, 'but I thought it would be a bit risky to take the ordinary way.'

'It's a pity you didn't go yesterday, sir. So much has happened these last twenty four hours, and in some places the people are a bit out of hand we can't be everywhere at once you see. I'd cut back as far as Putney Bridge if I were you, and make a big circle you'll be out of all the trouble then.'

Kenyon frowned. The plan was a good one, but he was anxious now about his supply of gas. He had not been able to fill up to capacity the previous day, and had used a lot in the last twelve hours. A circuit by Putney Bridge would increase his mileage enormously and if his pressure failed they would be stranded by the roadside. It occurred to him that if he telephoned to his Party headquarters they might be able to tell him of a place in the neighbourhood where he could pick up some more, so he nodded to the Inspector and backed his car. 'There's a call box in the Underground Station, isn't there?' he asked.

'There is, sir, but there are only skeleton staffs on the exchanges now, and they're too busy to put through any but official calls. The military take over at midnight.'

'Thanks, Inspector.' Kenyon turned to the faithful Carter who had now pulled up behind him: 'You'll be all right for gas with the small car, so you'd better leave us here go out round Putney. I'm going to the office, it's only just round the corner, and I'll follow you if I can, but get out of London as quickly as possible and don't worry about us.'

'Very good, milord just as you wish,' Carter touched the absurd bowler hat, Lucy smiled brightly, and the small car backed away.

When he reached his office he looked at Ann doubtfully. 'You won't make trouble or anything, will you?'

’No I’m sorry I made a fuss. I'll come with you to the country, but no further you understand that, don't you?'

He smiled at her downcast face as he got out. 'An armed neutrality, eh? well, just as you like.'

In the office he found everything in confusion. Not being actually a Government department its continuance was in no way vital, and most of its principal executives being people with some sort of official position, they had abandoned it to attend to more urgent affairs. Normally it would have been closed hours before, but owing to the crisis a certain number of clerks and typists who had congregated there during the day now displayed no intention of even endeavouring to get home. Kenyon could find no one in authority and, after refusing half a dozen cups of tea from female members of the staff, went out into the street again.

A commissionaire was on duty, but when questioned about gas, shook his head. 'Thirty bob a thousand, sir, it was today, but I doubt if you'd get any anywhere now. Most of the gas filling stations have been cleaned out.'

Scotland Yard was only just across the square, so Kenyon thought he would go there. He did not expect that they would be able to help him in the matter of gas, but they would probably know about conditions on the other side of the river, and if there was any real danger in taking the direct route over London Bridge and down the Old Kent Road.

Whitehall was a thick jam of people right up to Trafalgar Square and more seemed to be flooding in every moment, despite the fact that the bridge was closed and the tubes and buses not running. Up near the Horse Guards the crowd was singing, and Kenyon recognised the tune as the Red Internationale, so things did not look too good in spite of the squads of police who kept the people moving.

The car crept along at a foot pace but after he had gone about fifty yards he was forced to bring it to a standstill. A mob of roughs were eddying round a big Daimler. Inside, gaunt impassive monocled, sat a grey moustached General, apparently on his way to the War Office. They were booing him but he appeared quite unconcerned. A detachment of mounted police rode up, edging their horses through the crush with the skill born of long practice. The hooligans dispersed, the Daimler moved on, and Kenyon followed.

The gates at the entrance of Scotland Yard were closed, but they were opened for a minute to admit a lorry on which was mounted an enormous searchlight. Kenyon caught a glimpse of motor cars, reserves of mounted and foot police, and the steel helmets of soldiers in the courtyard. Every window of the great building was brightly lighted and the shadows which moved constantly across them told of an intense activity within. Kenyon was directed to the entrance further down, at Cannon Row Police Station; there he had to wait some little time. Half a dozen rioters were being brought in and a wounded policeman. A little batch of sad eyed aliens stood in a corner of the room; they had no knowledge of what was happening in their own countries, but now that England seemed to be on the verge of Revolution, they were anxious to get away, and turned with pathetic confidence to the police.

A hysterical woman was loudly insistent that the Sergeant should find her husband, who had gone out the evening before and failed to return. 'There would be plenty of that,' Kenyon reflected, 'in the next few days.'

At last he managed to get a few words with the harassed officer. Gas was out of the question. Even if he could find a supply he would not be allowed to buy it without a permit. All stocks had been commandeered by the Government. The bridges were open except for Westminster and Waterloo. As far as the Inspector knew there had not been any serious rioting in Southwark or Bermondsey. Isolated cases but nothing more, and cars had been going through up to the last hour.

The Sergeant attributed the comparative quiet in the South Eastern area to the fact that the majority of roughs had come up to the West End. There had been considerable looting in the Strand earlier in the evening he said, but the mob had been dispersed by baton charges and the situation was well in hand. 'If things get worse we've got plenty of tear gas inside,' he ended up jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 'We'll have to give 'em a real lesson.'