‘And that’s Madden’s view, too, is it?’
‘I believe so.’ Sinclair frowned. ‘But he was going to ask Helen her opinion. Neither of them got close to the girl while she was working for them, but of the two, Helen probably knew her better. It was her impression Rosa’s melancholy sprang from the tragedy that had overtaken her family, and though it’s tempting now to think it might have had another cause, I very much doubt it. After all, whatever she witnessed in Paris had happened four years before. There’s no reason to think it still loomed large in her mind. Not with all that has happened in the world since then. But it’s unlikely we’ll ever get to the bottom of that. If Rosa told anyone about it, it was most likely her aunt, and I’m afraid that road’s closed to us now.’
‘Has she gone then?’ Bennett asked.
‘Yesterday afternoon. We rang the hospital before Madden left. We were told she’d fallen into a coma some time earlier, so we couldn’t have spoken to her even if we’d wanted to.’
The chief inspector bit his lip.
‘It may seem cruel to say so, but at least we can put Rosa’s death to one side now. We know why this man killed her. It was because she could identify him. He knew that if ever he was arrested she could send him to the guillotine — for the murder of Sobel at least, if not for any of his other victims. The same applies to Florrie Desmoulins. He knew we were bound to interview her — that we’d make the link between the man she had words with and Rosa’s murderer — so the sooner he cut that thread the better. His pattern doesn’t change. Fontainebleau … Wapping. It’s the same wherever you look. He leaves no witnesses behind.’
‘Yes, but still …’ The assistant commissioner stirred unhappily behind his desk. ‘He was in no danger of arrest when he murdered Rosa Nowak. We had no idea he was here. All he’s done is stir up a hornet’s nest. It makes no sense to me.’
‘I agree. Until you look at it from his point of view.’ Sinclair eyed his superior meaningfully. To begin with there was no way he could have guessed that Rosa Nowak never made contact with the French police, never offered herself as a witness. He would have assumed the opposite, and that with Paris liberated now there was every chance the Surete was back on his trail. And since Britain was one of the countries he might have fled to, they were either already in touch with us, or soon would be. He was safe enough during the war years, but if a hunt for him was launched here then Rosa’s presence, her very existence, became a threat that he couldn’t ignore, especially as the French were bound to pass on her name to us. Or so he’d assume. So his action was pre-emptive. In effect, he was cutting the chain of evidence before the links could be joined. It’s his actions after that that are harder to read. Killing Rosa seems to have forced him into further action. Immediately afterwards he set up the Wapping robbery, and while we can’t be sure what his motives were it suggests he wanted to be ready to leave the country at the earliest possible moment once the war was over.’
‘With money in his pocket?’ Bennett asked, and Sinclair nodded.
‘He set out to lure Silverman to that pub with a case full of cash and he succeeded. Now he has both the money and the diamonds. He’s ready to run. At least, that’s the theory we’re working on. But John has raised an interesting question. Why was he in such a hurry? Granted Rosa was a threat he had to deal with. But once she was dead he was under no pressure: he could have planned his next move carefully, chosen someone more reliable than Alfie Meeks to do his bidding. He was safe for the time being. So why the rush?’
The assistant commissioner had been listening closely. ‘So he’s still giving this some thought,’ he remarked. ‘Madden, I mean.’
‘Sir …?’
‘I would have thought he’d got the answer he was looking for. Why that girl was murdered.’
‘That’s true, certainly.’ The chief inspector chuckled. ‘But John’s got more of an old copper’s instinct in him than he’s prepared to admit. He doesn’t like letting go. But you’re right — there’s nothing more he can do. This is a purely police matter now: a question of tracking this Marko down. We’re having a drink later, by the way. John’s going back to Highfield tomorrow, but he wants to know what’s in that dossier before he leaves.’
‘A question of tracking him down …’ Bennett was reflecting on the other’s words. ‘Just how difficult do you think that will be?’
‘Well, it rather depends.’ Sinclair scratched his head. ‘Granted, we know when he arrived: it must have been in the days, or at most weeks, following the German occupation of Paris, and if he entered the country under an alias — as a foreigner — we can probably get on to him quickly. His name would have been noted and placed on the official register of aliens. His whereabouts now would be a matter of record.’
‘You say “if”.’
The chief inspector nodded. He began gathering his papers.
‘Unfortunately we’ve every reason to believe he’s British, and if so it’s more than likely that he arrived here under his own name — his real name — which he may have been keeping in reserve for just such an eventuality; and if that’s the case, finding him could prove a lot harder.’
Bennett watched as he rose to his feet.
‘Perhaps the French can help us there,’ he suggested. ‘That information might be in the dossier.’
‘It might.’ Sinclair stood poised to go. ‘But I doubt it. If Duval was aware he was British he would have said so yesterday. And if he knew his real name, he would have told us.’
In the event, it took the chief inspector very little time to discover he was right on both counts. On returning to his office he found a package wrapped in brown paper delivered by a military courier only a few minutes earlier lying on his desk, and before the hour was out, with the help of a translator, he learned that in spite of the wealth of new information it contained, the one piece of knowledge they sought more than any other was still to be unearthed.
‘All the French could tell us was what he was calling himself when he passed through Paris,’ he told Madden when they met that evening. ‘Klaus Meiring. He had French papers, and later it turned out he’d been living under the same name in Amsterdam. But there’s no Meiring listed as having entered this country in 1940, and although there are a couple of men with the same surname on the aliens register, neither one of them is our man. By the time he stepped ashore here he was someone else. British, at a guess, but that still doesn’t help. He came over at a time when the ferries had all been suspended: so anyone who crossed the Channel then must have hired a French fishing boat to bring them over. As a number of people did, the Coast Guard tells us, and the proper procedure would have been for them to report their arrival both to the police and to Customs and Excise. However, I doubt our friend Marko did either. It’s far more likely he slipped ashore unnoticed, and if that’s the case it’s quite possible there’s no record of his arrival, no name we can trace.’
Somewhat to the chief inspector’s surprise, his old colleague had suggested they meet in Bloomsbury — he had left a telephoned message with the switchboard to that effect — and when Sinclair reached the designated rendezvous, a pub in Museum Street, he found it was little more than a stone’s throw from the spot where Rosa Nowak had been murdered.
‘I went over to the hospital where Mrs Laski was admitted,’ Madden told him when he arrived. He had already ordered a beer and was standing at the bar gazing into his glass (like a fortune-teller studying his crystal ball, Sinclair felt). ‘I wanted to be sure arrangements were in hand for her funeral. She had no family over here; no one other than her niece. But I found a Polish couple had got there before me and were taking care of things. Then I thought since I was in the area I’d have another look at the spot where Rosa was killed. I’ve only seen it by day. But it turned out to be a waste of time. That street’s pitch-dark. If he came up on her from behind, he must have eyes like a cat.’