‘Let’s see how plausible he is at the end of a rope.’
‘We have to find him first, and that,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘will not be easy. He’s as slippery as an eel.’
‘So it seems. How would you describe him?’
‘He’s rather different from the villains we normally pursue. In fact, you wouldn’t take him for a criminal at all. Oxley, by all accounts, is good-looking, personable and educated. He has the talent to succeed in most professions. The tragedy is that he chose to make his living on the wrong side of the law.’
Leeming regarded him shrewdly. ‘Catching him means a lot to you, doesn’t it, sir?’
‘Yes, it does,’ admitted Colbeck. ‘I’ve been after him for years and this is the first time he’s crossed my path again. I’m going to make sure that it’s the last time as well. It’s a debt I have to pay to Helen Millington. This is not just another investigation to me, Victor,’ he stressed. ‘It’s a mission. I won’t rest until we have this devil in custody.’
It was several hours later but Irene’s hands were still shaking slightly. Oxley enfolded them in his own palms and held them tight.
‘You’re still trembling,’ he observed.
‘I can’t help it, Jerry. When I shot that policeman, I felt as cool as a cucumber. It was only afterwards that I realised what I’d done.’
‘Yes – you rescued me from disaster.’
‘I killed a man,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I never thought I’d be able to do that. I hoped that they’d release you when I pulled out the gun. It never crossed my mind that I’d have to pull the trigger.’
‘But you did, Irene,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead. ‘I knew that you wouldn’t let me down.’
She gave a shrug. ‘I love you. That’s why I did it.’
‘And because you did it – I love you.’
He squeezed her hands then sat back in his chair. They were in a public house in Stafford, sitting in a quiet corner where they could talk freely. Oxley had already changed his appearance so that any description of him would be misleading. He’d shaved off his neat moustache, combed his hair in a different way and put on a pair of spectacles with clear glass in them. He looked quite different. In the interests of evading suspicion, Irene had also made adjustments to her hair and to her clothing. Witnesses who saw her diving onto the train in Wolverhampton would not recognise her now. After calmly leaving the train at Birmingham, they had bought tickets to Stafford and travelled there in separate carriages. Nobody on the same journey would have connected them.
While Oxley was in a state of euphoria after his escape, she remained anxious and preoccupied. She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Looking up at him, her eyes were moist.
‘Was it like this for you, Jerry?’ she asked, nervously.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The first time you killed someone. Did you have this terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach? Did your hands shake? Were you haunted by remorse?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ he said, coldly.
‘You must have had some regrets.’
‘I put them out of my mind.’
‘I can’t do that somehow. I keep seeing his face at the moment I actually shot him.’ She shook her head. ‘I just can’t believe I did that.’
‘Would you rather have seen me put on remand?’
‘No, no – I’d have hated that.’
‘Then you did the right thing.’
‘Did you feel that you did the right thing when you killed a man for the first time?’
‘Of course – he was foolish enough to chase me when I robbed his jewellery shop. It was the right thing to kill him and the right thing to kill her as well.’
She was shocked. ‘You killed a woman?’
‘She was going to bear witness against me.’
‘When was this – and how did you do it?’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said, dismissively. ‘It was a long time ago and I’ve put it all behind me. That’s what you must do. All I can tell you is that I felt proud.’
‘Proud?’ she echoed. ‘How can you be proud of taking a life?’
‘It showed I had the courage to do so. Most people don’t have that courage. They never know that sense of power you get. That’s what I had, Irene, and – when you get over the initial shock – you’ll enjoy remembering that same thrill as well.’
She was unconvinced. ‘I doubt that, Jerry.’
‘There’s nothing quite like it.’
They had been together almost a year now and it had been a very fruitful partnership. Her air of innocence and wholesomeness belied the fact that she was an accomplished thief and had long since abandoned any claim to respectability. Oxley had used her time and again to distract people while he stole things from their premises. As the more experienced criminal, he was able to teach her the tricks of the trade. Drawn ever closer to him, Irene became so besotted that she did not realise that Oxley was manipulating her emotions. She was utterly devoted to him. When his luck finally ran out and he was captured, all that she could think about was setting him free. Her audacious plan had worked. It had involved killing one man and helping to hurl a second one to his death, but her lover was back with her again. Irene just wished that she could relish his company instead of being assailed by regrets over what she’d done.
Taking her hands again, he looked deep into her eyes.
‘Are you happy, Irene?’
‘Of course I’m happy,’ she said, forcing a smile.
‘You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re under no compulsion. If you’d rather go your own way, we can part here and now. You’re not at my beck and call.’
‘But I want to be, Jerry.’
‘I sense that you’re getting cold feet.’
‘That’s not true,’ she asserted, sitting up straight. ‘I was a little troubled about it, that’s all. It’s past now. I feel much better, honestly. The only thing I want is to be with you.’
‘Then we have something in common,’ he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, ‘because the only thing I want is to be with you. Let’s find somewhere to spend the night, then I can tell you why.’
‘I thought we were going to Manchester.’
‘That can wait until tomorrow. Given what we did today, I think we’re entitled to celebrate.’
‘Yes, we are!’
‘Are you ready to be my wife for another night?’
Irene laughed. ‘I’m ready tonight and every night.’
They got up from their table and headed for the door. As they came out of the pub, they were elated. With Irene on his arm, Oxley strode purposefully along, distributing smiles to everyone he passed and making the most of his freedom. He then pulled Irene gently into an alleyway so that he could confide something to her.
‘Remember this, my love,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t shoot a human being on that train this morning.’
‘But I did, Jerry,’ she said, earnestly. ‘You saw me.’
‘All you killed was a policeman.’
‘So?’
Oxley beamed. ‘They don’t count.’
CHAPTER THREE
As soon as they arrived in the town, they hired a cab to take them to Garrick Street, home of the Wolverhampton Borough Police Force. Roland Riggs, the duty sergeant, was a big, beetle-browed man with an instinctive dislike of anyone who tried to take over an investigation he felt should be carried out by his own men. Colbeck and Leeming were given a frosty welcome. Accustomed to such treatment, they asserted their authority and drew all the relevant information out of Riggs. They learnt the names of the two murdered policemen and heard how the both of them had been hit by a train coming in the opposite direction. What Riggs could not explain was how two of his best officers had been unable to stop the prisoner from escaping.