Sinclair directed his gaze at Bennett.
‘These men do crack,’ he said firmly. ‘We’ve seen it before. Hammer away at that front they’ve erected long enough, and sooner or later it splinters-’
‘Yes, quite. But surely that’s a decision we can take later.’ Bennett had become increasingly restive while the chief inspector was speaking. Aware of other, pressing demands on his time, he’d kept glancing at his watch. ‘We must concentrate on what’s to hand. Let’s trace the owner of that car first. Then we can decide what to do next.’ Picking up a pencil, he drew a pile of documents towards him. ‘Will that be all, Chief Inspector?’ He looked down.
‘Not quite, sir.’
Nettled at being cut off so abruptly, Sinclair made no haste about closing up his file. ‘There’s one further step I’d like to take. But I’ll need your authorization.’
Alerted not only by the words, but by the tone in which they were uttered, the assistant commissioner looked up sharply. ‘What is it?’ he demanded.
‘I want to send a telegram to the International Criminal Police Commission in Vienna. I’d like them to check their records for us.’
‘Now, wait a minute!’ Sir Wilfred put down his pencil. ‘The International Commission! What the devil have they got to do with this?’
‘Perhaps nothing, sir.’ The chief inspector carefully folded one well-pressed trouser leg over the other. ‘But we are still faced with the problem of what this man, this killer, who is not a tramp and almost certainly owns a motor car, was doing between the summer of 1929 and the end of last July, when he raped and murdered Marigold Hammond. It’s almost unknown for a sex criminal of this type to remain inactive for so long. We’ve checked prison records of known offenders and come up empty-handed. One other possibility is that this man was abroad during that time. If so, he may well have killed one or more children in some other country. If that is the case, we must obtain that information.’
‘Come now, Chief Inspector…’ Bennett had returned to drumming his fingertips on the desktop. ‘You know as well as I do what our policy towards the commission is. And that’s a government policy, let me remind you. We have as little to do with it as possible.’
‘Nevertheless, we are members of the organization, are we not?’ Sinclair affected an air of puzzlement. ‘It seems a shame not to take advantage of the connection. After all, their international bureau maintains an up-to-date list of known sex criminals in Europe, together with their modus operandi, and keeps track of their movements.’
‘I’m well aware of that,’ Bennett snapped. He looked at his wristwatch and winced. ‘The fact of the matter is, the commission’s a creature of the Austrian government. It’s staffed solely by Austrian police officials. There are grounds for believing it operates as an intelligence arm of the Austrian state.’
‘Really?’ The chief inspector appeared taken aback. ‘Strange that none of the other member countries – there must be thirty of them by now – seem to hold that view. But then they don’t enjoy our special advantages, do they, sir?’
‘And what might those be?’ The assistant commissioner’s voice had taken on a dangerous note; his pale cheeks were becoming flushed.
‘Why, that as British policemen we’re privileged to belong to the finest force in the world and have nothing to gain or learn by associating with a pack of foreigners!’
‘That will do!’ Bennett brought his fist down hard on his desk.
‘Angus!’ Arthur Holly wagged a disapproving finger at his colleague. ‘Now calm down, the pair of you,’ he added, for good measure.
Red in the face, Bennett rounded on him. ‘Don’t you tell me to calm down, Chief Superintendent!’
Holly regarded him with an unruffled gaze, and after a moment the assistant commissioner collected himself. Blinking, he sat back in his chair. ‘I’ve not heard any advice from your quarter for a while,’ he remarked spitefully. ‘Haven’t you got an opinion?’
‘Yes, sir, as a matter of fact I have.’ Holly cleared his throat. ‘Normally speaking, if it was a question of turning to a pack of foreigners for help, I’d be the first to vote against it.’ He grinned. ‘But in this instance, I think Angus might have a point. It’s the motor car, isn’t it?’
‘The motor car, Chief Superintendent?’ Bennett eyed him with suspicion.
‘Mobility, sir.’ Holly made his rumbling sound. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. It’s the curse of modern policing. Time was when a safe was cracked or a house robbed, you could put half a dozen names into a hat and be sure one of them was responsible, because they were the ones that lived in your manor. But not any longer. Now that every flash villain has a motor car, there’s no telling where he’ll do his next job.’ He looked at them both. ‘And isn’t that the problem we’re dealing with here? As far as we know this man has killed three girls: one in Oxfordshire, and two down south, but in different counties. So whatever else, he moves around. What’s more he owns a car – we know that, too – and a damned great tourer by the sound of it. Why shouldn’t he have gone abroad for a while? We can’t ignore the possibility.’ He turned to the assistant commissioner. ‘Sir, until we can positively identify him, I feel we should cast our net as widely as we can.’
‘Well said, Arthur!’ Sinclair beamed. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
His face flushed, Bennett looked from one to the other. Glancing at his watch, he groaned. ‘My God! Look at the time!’ He rose, pointing a finger at Sinclair. ‘Very well. You may draft a telegram to Vienna. You may not send it before it’s been shown to me. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly, sir.’ Sinclair’s smile was benign.
Without a word Bennett strode to the door. Holly waited until he had heard it slam behind them. Then he stretched, glancing sideways as he did so. ‘Sailing a little close to the wind, weren’t you, Angus?’
The chief inspector grunted. ‘Bennett’s a good AC. We’re lucky to have him. But we must see he gets his priorities right. Government policy be damned! What matters here is that this man is found before he kills again.’ He smiled at his superior. ‘By the way, thank you, Arthur. I wasn’t expecting you to come to my aid.’
Holly sniffed. ‘You always were too sure of yourself.’
Chuckling, Angus Sinclair accepted the reproof with good grace.
‘I meant to ask earlier’-the chief super rose-‘what are you doing with Styles now? Are you keeping him on the case?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Sinclair got to his feet as well, and they went to the door. ‘In fact, I’ve sent him down to Guildford and told him to nose around. It’s true, this lead with the car may crack the case for us, but you never can tell, and I don’t want to tread water in the meantime. Brookham’s the most recent killing, the freshest if you like, and I want to have someone down there on the spot. I’ve another reason, too, but this is between you and me, Arthur.’
‘What do you mean?’ Holly eyed him.
‘I’ve told Styles he needn’t feel shy about picking John Madden’s brains if the opportunity presents itself. John’s got a rare instinct for this kind of case and I want to know what he thinks.’
‘I see nothing wrong with that.’ The chief super was still puzzled.
‘Perhaps not. But I’m doing it in a rather underhand way. I can’t involve John directly. Helen would have my hide if she found out. But Styles’s position is different. His tie with Madden goes back to the time he worked under him, and he’s a friend of the family; what’s more, Helen has a soft spot for him. I’m hoping she’ll allow him some latitude when he comes to call.’ Sinclair scowled. ‘But I’ve a nasty feeling I’m walking on eggshells.’