1. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE RHL/XD/92/2-C01
The huge pile of newspapers sat on Claire’s desk that Monday morning; it leant slightly and threatened to spill onto the lino floor. Billy pushed the door open and dumped another pile onto the chair.
He huffed, “What do you want with all these papers? You must have enough here now to line every budgie's cage in London?”
From behind the pile, Claire looked at Billy; sometimes she wondered just how he managed to run this business. ‘Oh, that's right, without her he would have gone bust long ago.’
“Information,” she said, smiling, “your little brother reckons that one day we will be able to find out anything we want just from tapping a few keys on a keyboard. But until that time comes, little old me will keep looking in the papers.”
“But why?” asked Billy, although to be honest, he didn’t really want the answer.
“Like I said, information. Stuff that gets reported like this.” And she waved a copy of the Ealing Bugle.
“See here, on page 14, it says that Peter Bonner and his little brother Craig were spotted hanging around the Midland Bank in Ealing Broadway. A local PC recognised Craig and went to apprehend him, but he got away.”
Billy sighed. “But what has that got to do with gathering information?”
“Everything, you numpty, I went to school with Craig; well, he was a couple of years above me. And he was a right little tearaway even then, got into all sorts of trouble and even injured himself once when a prank went wrong. Anyway, as to why, Simon made me this unit to hold file cards, and I write little snippets down and file them. Sort of like my own evidence table as it were.”
“Right you are then,” replied Billy, “you want a cup of tea, although since I happen to be your boss, it should by rights be you doing the menial tasks.”
He exited the room just as the staple gun smashed into the doorframe.
Claire carried on reading the newspapers; every so often she made a note, and then in last week’s edition of the Ealing Bugle, she saw a piece about the signing of the Maastricht Treaty and the release of hundreds of thousands of pounds in bearer bonds that were being held somewhere in a West London bank.
‘That's strange,' she thought. ‘I wonder which bank the bonds are being kept in?’
2. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-2
Unfortunately, she didn't have the time to continue with this line of thought, as there was a loud rapping on the doorframe, and the door was quickly opened by Sergeant George Robinson; behind him was an unkempt man with shocking red hair. George smiled at Claire and stooped down to pick up the staple gun.
“Been having target practice with Billy again, I see.”
She smiled and waved him towards the two empty chairs by the window.
“What can I do you for today, George?”
“A problem that the locals don't want or care about; sorry, Jabez, but well, that's the truth.”
Claire looked closer at this man, and at the same time she could smell motor oil; there was a large stain from it on his elbow. Apart from his red hair, he had no beard or moustache; although his clothes were old but serviceable, something about him seemed off.
“So George, you bring me a man who obviously works in a car parts shop but also, in his spare time, makes models, and he has just been making lots of telephone calls. I can't understand why the Ealing police wouldn't take him seriously.”
The man stared at Claire, his ruby-red eyebrows lifting in wonder, and then he spoke in a voice that didn't match his appearance.
“I say, that's all very clever. Do you read the works of Sir Arthur as well?”
“As well as what?” Replied Claire.
“As do I; his words are a great comfort, but I was forced to go to the police about my predicament, and as I feared, they were none too sympathetic. One of them suggested coming to see you.”
He paused and added. “You are, of course, correct; I run 'Plugs & Points', the car parts shop in Ealing Broadway. The oil soaked into my jacket yesterday. As to the other things, how can you tell?”
Claire looked at George and then again at the man; his tone was rather old-fashioned, and she would have bet that he didn't get out much.
Instead, she said. “I read everything, and yes, I am familiar with Doyle’s work as well as many others. It never hurts to see how fictitious detectives solve puzzles. And you have some tiny plastic shavings on your other sleeve; behind the smell of oil there is some of the glue that comes with Airfix kits, and your fingers have paint and glue on them. I can understand why you ended up here, everyone does, so let's see what I can do for you?”
George butted in and said. “Jabez here came to the station and spoke to the desk sergeant; he wasn't very helpful because there is no real crime here to speak of. So they called me and, well, here we are as usual. I thought you might make some sense of the whole thing.”
“Right,” said Claire, “come on then, let's have the whole story, from start to here and now?”
The man pushed his hand into his pocket and took out a rolled-up and very wrinkled fax. He handed it over and started to speak.
“You have there the start of my troubles.”
Claire unrolled the paper and read.
To the Red-Headed League: If this communication finds you and you are red-headed, then you are fortunate.
Mister Edmund Hopkins, of Bath House, Hounslow, left a bequest in his will to offer an appointment to all those men who have red hair and are sound in both body and mind. One hundred and fifty pounds weekly will be paid for the nominal services performed for the league.
Apply in person at the headquarters of the League at Saunders House,
52-53. The Mall, Ealing, W5 3TA.
She put the fax down, and it curled back up into a tube. She sat in silence for a couple of minutes before speaking again.
“Interesting, so why did you of all people receive this fax, Jabez? Did it have your name on it?”
“No,” Jabez replied, shaking his head. “It just came rolling out of the machine in the back office. Nigel, my assistant he heard the machine beeping and brought it through to me at the counter. He said it must be fate, what with me having such a distinct head of hair and business being so quiet of late. I assume that it was because of the article in the Gazette a couple of months ago.”
Claire whirled round in her chair and opened the drawer to her file system. She flicked through cards and then pulled one free.
“Yep, an advert in the Bugle and a piece about a gathering of all the boroughs' red-headed men. It seems the police thought it was a joke, as nobody could find who had run the advert. Again, very, very interesting, don't you think?”
Jabez Wilson mopped his brow with a rather dirty handkerchief and then spoke. “So, will you look into the matter for me?”
“I still have no real idea what the matter is.”
“Oh, yes, well, we talked about it, and I decided the extra money would be handy. So the next morning Nigel and I headed off to the building, and outside were all manner of redheads. I say red; most were very light, but one or two had hair as bold a red as I do. Nigel pushed and prodded the crowd, and we went upstairs to the office.”
“Wait a minute, who is Nigel when he is at home?”
“Oh, my assistant, a good man, he has been with me a few months, works well and keeps himself to himself. I advertised and he turned up and said he was willing to work for half wages as long as he could live in the attic space. At first I was concerned, and then he said his cousin Carol would help out with the cooking and cleaning. It seemed like a good balance, and he has been a good worker.”
“Half wages, that sounds weird, but if it works, then why not? So carry on and tell me what happened when you got to the office.”
“Well, there was quite a commotion; men with various shades of red hair were milling about in the corridors, and Nigel said something like, 'I wish I were red-headed now; there must be something worth having.' I laughed and we pushed our way to the door. As we got there, it burst open, and an angry man with more auburn than red hair came out and bellowed at the man inside. We took our chance and slipped in.”
George added. “Now tell her what the man in the office said.”
“Well,” continued Jabez, “the man jumped up from behind the desk and came and shook me by the hand. He said that finally someone worthy of the position had arrived and if I would answer some questions, the position might be mine. I was well confused by this point but said I would do as he asked.”
“So, you just answered truthfully and didn't think it was part of some clever scheme, correct?” Claire, who had leaned forward toward Jabez, as she asked this question.
“I did, and the man explained that a legacy had been left by a Mr Hopkins, as he had grown up in London and had been treated badly because of his looks. He had headed to America and made his fortune but never forgot his roots, and with that the man grabbed mine and tugged my hair. I was shocked, but he answered that it was a test, as people might try to cheat. He then introduced himself and said his name was Duncan Ross, one of the administrators of the fund. Then he asked me some strange questions.”
“By strange, you mean what?” asked Claire, who had now opened her notepad, busily scribbled down some of what Jabez had told her.
“He asked if I was married or had a family. Neither of which I do, and he looked worried. He then said that the grant was for family men, and it was to encourage them to add to the redheads in London. However, after a couple of minutes, he said that they would make an exception for me because I had such a remarkable head of hair, unlike anything he had ever seen.”
“That was lucky. I’d bet you were relieved?”
“Why yes, Miss Williams, I was at that. And then he asked when I could start my task. My hopes fell again when I told him I ran a car parts shop. But Nigel said he and his cousin would be happy to watch the shop for me, and he could get on with sorting the basement out. I then asked for the hours and was told they were ten till two and all he would tell me was that I had to be there for ten and stay in the building until two. If I were to leave at any time, I would lose my job and my money. So I agreed to his terms, and he instructed me to return the next morning, when he would provide a full explanation of the job. I was so pleased we stopped off at the ‘Golden Fry’ and had a lovely fish supper.”
“It all seems logical to me so far, if a bit far-fetched, but I'm going to assume something happened, and that's why you are sitting there now.” Asked Claire.
George smiled at her; he knew how her mind worked, but this time he was certain even the ‘Shy Private Eye’ couldn't work this one out.
“No, at first everything went according to plan. I turned up the next morning, and there was the desk, and on it sat a telephone, a notepad, a copy of the Yellow Pages and a script. Mr Dawes explained that all I had to do was start at the beginning and phone each business and just confirm they would be continuing with their inclusion. I have personally received such calls in the past, and so I got down to business and, for the rest of the week, worked my way through the directory. On Friday I was presented with my one hundred and fifty pounds, and so it progressed for the next couple of weeks.” He paused and wiped his forehead again.
“Mr Ross came and checked on me, sometimes daily and then, as the weeks went by, less and less. Soon I had spent nearly eight weeks working, and then one day last week I turned up to find a notice on the office door.”
He handed Claire a card with the following:
THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED
Claire looked at the card; she turned it over and looked again. She then started to laugh.
“I can't see why you would find this amusing, Miss Williams. That's what the police did, and I was assured that you would take the matter seriously. After all, I am losing about one hundred and fifty pounds a week.”
“No, sorry,” exclaimed Claire as she stood up, “I really wouldn't miss this case for the world. It's one of the most unusual I've been offered. And I’ve researched battle scones, but that is an entirely different story. Tell you what, get yourself home, and George and I will go hunting for this man Ross and find out what the situation was all about. Oh, one last thing: describe Nigel and his cousin, please.”
Jabez closed his eyes and quietly spoke. “Nigel is about thirty-five and a little over five feet tall; he is slight, but you can tell he is strong. As for the cousin, she appears quite manly; I would estimate her age to be around twenty-eight. Nigel said she was about seven years younger. She has mid-length brown hair and a rather nasty scar on her left arm.”
At this Claire stopped and looked at him. “That's interesting, tell you what, if I come into the shop, please don't talk to me as if you know who I am. I’d like to see your assistant without him knowing.”
“I won't question your methods, Miss Williams, and I won't act as if I know you.”
Jabez Wilson then stood up and shook Claire warmly by the hand; he then thanked George and headed downstairs, a happier man.
After he left, Claire turned to George and said, “Bloody hell, the things you bring to me! Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes myself. All I need to do now is start smoking and take up the fiddle. And don't correct me while I'm having a go.” She paused and breathed out. “First off, I need a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, and then you and I are going to see where all the trouble happened. Do you know the janitor in Saunders House?”
George replied that he did and they would easily find out what they needed to know, so the pair went along to the cafe and had lunch.
3. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-3
The pair headed for Saunders House, which is an impressive 1960s building right in the heart of the town, George headed inside while Claire waited out on the pavement. Something was bothering her and she still couldn't work out why Jabez was told he had to stay in the building from ten until two. What if anything was he not supposed to see?
A couple of minutes later a dejected looking George joined her outside.
“Well, thats a bust. The janitor reckons that nobody called Ross has been in the building, but there was a red headed man and a lot of commotion on the day Jabez said he was here. The same day strangely that the papers reported on. Jonny did say that the bloke gave his name as Steven Stevens and said the office was being used for an experiment.”
“Interesting,” replied Claire, “do you see anything out here that someone might want our Mr Wilson to miss? Everything looks normal to me, but I spend far too much time in the office these days. Time for a bit of legwork I think, George you can head off if you like.”
George smiled and walked back to the car park, and then he remembered that Claire had driven so he walked back to the police station, where an annoyed Inspector Henderson was waiting for him.
Claire in turn decided to go and take a look at ‘Plugs & Points’ as she could do with getting a new air filter for the Triumph, she walked from Saunders and down to the shop.
Number 44 The Broadway was filled with a jumble of car parts, oil cans that looked like they were from the 60’s and a thick layer of grime seemed to cover all of it. Strange how she had never taken any notice of this shop before, but she was familiar with the bank next door.
This building and the others had been left over from the development of the shopping centre in nineteen eighty-five, as she walked past here , she was surprised to see extra security at the door and inside.
A little lightbulb went on and she smiled, and she returned to the shop. The little bell clanked as the door opened, and she headed for the counter, hopefully Jabez would be as good as his word, but she need not have been worried. As a man of about thirty-five came out from the rear and spoke to her.
“Yes, Miss,” he smiled, “what can we do for you today?”
“I need an air filter for a nineteen seventy-six Triumph Dolomite and a set of windscreen wiper blades please.”
The man turned and rummaged in a draw, he placed the blades on the counter and then headed back into the rear and Claire could hear him moving boxes. He returned with the filter and Claire mentioned the mess he had made of his trouser knees.
“Its nothing we are having a huge reorganisation, the basement is a mess but soon it will all worth it. Is there anything else?”
Claire paid for the parts and left the shop, she slowly walked around the corner and noticed the alleyway, it was all dim and dank looking. Just a couple of cabinets for the phone-lines and a couple of basic alarm bell boxes. She was wondering how it all went together when she bumped into a tall well dressed woman who exclaimed.
“Watch out, oh its Claire. What a surprise, fancy seeing you around here, I would have thought after the trouble with the Oak Street case you would have stayed away.”
“Hello Natalie, how are you?” Replied Claire, unhappy that her thoughts had been derailed by the local clothes hanger. Natalie Cole changed outfits more often than she had cups of tea, and that was saying something.
The pair talked for a few moments and then Natalie asked.
“So are you part of the undercover lot the bank have hired to watch the bonds?”
“If I am then I cant really say now can I?” Laughed Claire. “I’m on a job and you can help me with something if you dont mind.”
They headed off to Oliver’s and Claire ordered a tea and a Chelsea bun, Natalie had black coffee and a macaroon.
“So are you enjoying working at the town planners then?”
Natalie put down her cup and grimaced. “Not really, I thought it would be all high powered meetings and travelling to London for finance requests. But all I do is sort applications for building permits, changes of use and so many other mundane and frankly boring things.”
Claire was just about to say something but Natalie continued.
“And you will never guess what I had to rubber stamp the other day? Only a request from a telephone company to do work on that box down the side of the bank, a firm I had never heard off but the young man was very nice, he had a nasty scar on his arm though. So I approved it, he came back the next day with a box of chocolates.”
“Some people are nice,” replied Claire, “I wish I knew someone like that?”
“Oh, having Simon issues are you. I told you that boy was only interested in machines not women.”
“No not him, the police have been feeding me dull silly cases they dont want. I think Inspector Henderson enjoys it far too much sometimes.”
“Dont take it to heart, at least you have one. I heard that Kim Henderson is as cold as ice. Oh look at the time, I have to get back to work, I just popped out to get some clothes for Tuesday.” And Natalie got up and started to leave.
“Whats on Tuesday?” Asked Claire.
Natalie turned and replied. “The march silly, the one about the anti recession protest. It's going to come all the way down the Broadway in the evening.” And with that she was gone.
Claire took out her notepad and wrote.
1: Jabez Wilson, lured from his shop daily.
2: The Bank is sitting on a huge amount of bonds (evident by the security and from Natalie)
3: Peter and Craig Bonner have been seen in the area and they are known for daring bank raids.
4: The cabinets down the alleyway looked like they had been tampered with.
5: There is a march planned for Tuesday evening which would give a robber a good escape.
She tucked the notebook back in her satchel and went to have a closer look down the alley. Apart from the rubbish and the smell of old tramps, it was just like all the others. But there at the end were three large grey cabinets, one had the BT logo on and the door was damaged. She peeked inside but it was just a mess of wires and little connection things. The two electrical boxes were also damaged, one had lots of empty drinks cans in and the other looked like a squirrel had taken up residence as it was all full of leaves and paper. She was turning to leave when she noticed a grating in the corner by the wall of the bank. Bending down and sweeping the rubbish from it she sees its an old Victorian sewer grating, which must have been left over when they did all the remodelling in the area in eighty-five, and it looked like it had never been removed for inspection.
4. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-4
Claire heads off to the police station in search of Simon, and she finds him in the file room down in the basement of the building where he is surrounded by cabinets and a huge desk with a screen that gives the room a strange, eerie green glow.
She drops the fax on the desk and says.
“Do me a favour and check the fax out; I have a feeling that it's more important than it looks."
Simon picks up the fax, unrolls it and clips it onto a board. He takes out a magnifying glass and scans the text; there are lines missing, and parts are already beginning to darken.
“See here,” he says, pointing to a row of numbers and characters.
“These are the sending and receiving machine codes, but the information is all wrong. The data says it was sent and received by the same machine but a couple of hours apart.”
“Bloody genius,” exclaims Claire. "Oh, not you, but you are as well.” And she kisses him and turns to leave; as she does, she calls out. “The game is afoot, Sherlock.” And then she is gone.
Simon sits there, the cursor on the screen blinking at him, and then he looks at the top of the screen:
METROPOLITAN POLICE HOME OFFICE LARGE MAJOR ENQUIRY SYSTEM TERMINAL 04-1.
And he smiles as he realises why she said what she did. The computer system was named HOLMES.
5. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-5
Back at her office, Claire pulled out various cards from the ‘Evidence Table’ and laid then on her desk. She opened her notebook and added to her list.
6: Jabez Wilson has a new assistant and his ‘cousin’
7: The cousin has a scar on the left arm, similar to that of Craig Bonner.
8: re 1 Why make sure Jabez is out of the shop?
9: …………..???
She sits there staring at the page, and then all of a sudden she gets up and rushes out to Hanwell Library. Inside it is as usual silent, the wraith of Mrs Pentecoastal making sure everyone knew their place. Claire approached the desk, and her legs turned to jelly, and she was twelve again. In a timid voice, she said.
“Please, can you tell me where the books on the Victorian sewers here in Ealing can be found?”
Mrs Pentecost turned and surveyed Claire over the top of her horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Why, it's Claire Williams, Victorian sewers, you say. Is there a plot to cause a malfunction of our plumbing afoot?”
Claire shank even more and mumbled something about the layout of the sewers under and around the new shopping centre. A long bony finger pointed to the left, and the voice informed her that shelf 4B, second row, should be her destination. Thanking the woman, Claire headed for the shelf, and she spent an hour or so copying out the plans from a huge volume of what the Victorians did for Ealing.
With her work done, she headed home and spent the evening checking through all she knew about the case so far, which unfortunately wasn't much.
6. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-6
The next morning Claire returned to her office and spent most of the morning going through the newspapers. She wasn't sure what she was looking for but hoped that inspiration would jump out of the pages at her. There were articles about a series of house burglaries, which she attributed to the Erickson's because the description of how the break-ins occurred closely resembled their methods. The police could handle that one, so she phoned George and told him. He asked how the redheaded case was going, and Claire groaned as she said it was ‘in progress,’ a term she hated.
Billy came in with tea and an iced finger; she drank the tea but couldn't face the idea of a stale bun with icing on it. She could hear Billy and Malcolm laughing in the other office, and then she glanced back at the paper and saw something strange.
A spate of small fires has been reported in Acton. The police have informed this reporter that there is a gang (likely youngsters) going around setting fire to small external telephone junction boxes outside shops. This causes severe disruptions to local businesses' protection circuits. When engineers checked the damaged sites, they discovered the alarm monitoring panels had been bypassed by a simple electronic device, stopping the security systems from dialling out to their central monitoring providers. A spokesperson from Maplin Electronics said it was possible to build such a loop-bypass kit using basic components carried in their catalogue and in store. The police have not confirmed this action.
‘That changes things,’ she thought. ‘It's not the usual way they work, but crooks learn new tricks every day.’
But now she faced a dilemma: tell George and Inspector Henderson and have them storm Jabez Wilson’s shop, or let the events unfold and try to catch them in the act. She was pretty sure now of how they were going to get into and out of the bank. She also thanked Natalie for the timing.
‘In for a penny,’ she thought as she picked up the phone and dialled the Ealing police station.
7. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-7
Later that afternoon Claire heads to Ealing police station, where she is to meet with Inspector Henderson. What she doesn't know is that there will be two other people in the room, and both of them have never seen Claire at work before. They have already dismissed what the inspector told them, which is both unfair and true.
Claire walks into the incident room and is instantly struck by how bright it is; huge fluorescent lights glow and flicker, and it makes her eyes hurt. At the end of the room is a massive board with photographs, newspaper cuttings and bits of string; she smiles as she realises that this can only be the work of Detective Matthews.
Matthews is the Metropolitan Police’s lead detective; he has been successful in bringing criminals to justice for nearly thirty years. He believes in the old ways: a word here and a small payment there and things fall into your lap.
Sitting next to him is a small man who looks rather nervous; he has 'bank manager' written all over his face, and he is dressed as if he is off to church later. Inspector Henderson is, as usual, standing almost to attention, her uniform pressed to within an inch of its life, her eyes are their usual cold hazel, and her expression is blank. Over to one side George Robinson is sitting, and he shrugs his shoulders as Claire approaches.
“Claire, meet Detective Matthews of the Met and Brian Winterbottom, who is representing the bank.”
Claire smiled. “Detective Matthews, it's a pleasure. I believe you knew my father?”
The booming voice of Matthews replied. “I did know your father, young lady, and it is solely for that reason that you are speaking with us. Mr Winterbottom and the banking group he represents do not take your warning seriously, though.”
“I understand,” replied Claire, “but I have information that leads me to believe that the bank in Ealing Broadway is going to be robbed sometime on Tuesday evening.”
Winterbottom leaned forwards; he steepled his fingers in front of him, and Claire shuddered slightly. It was like being back in school and having to visit the headmaster's office. Although she didn't mind the head, it was old Mr Hammond-May that frightened her and all the other kids.
“The information you have given is at best guesswork, Miss Williams. If we are to suppose that two small crooks from West London are capable of committing such a crime while being watched by some of the best-trained security personnel available, then please elaborate, as I, for one, think you are wasting both our and the police’s time. Then please elaborate, as I, for one, think you are wasting both our and the police’s time.”
Claire pulled out a chair from under the table, ensuring it scraped across the concrete floor so it would squeal loudly. She sat down and opened her satchel and removed her notebook.
“Firstly, Mr Winterbottom, neither Peter nor Craig Bonner can be considered small. The pair have been responsible for quite a few robberies in the past, and Detective Matthews is well aware of the daring ways they execute their crimes. Although this one is a leap of faith, I have a complex filing system in my office.”
She paused and smiled. “Just like the fictional Sherlock Holmes, he had his alphabetical card indexes and rooms full of newspaper scrapbooks. Well, I don't have a Scotland Yard archive, but I have what I like to call my 'Evidence Table', where I collect snippets from newspapers, local gossip, and information that is passed to me in the street. It doesn't take a genius to work out that the Bonners were seen in Ealing Broadway, and there have been a series of small unconnected fires in telephone routing boxes. To me it all points to a well-planned bank job, and your bank is the number one target.”
Winterbottom leaned back. “But we have little or no cash on deposits on a Tuesday evening. Saturday night the night safe is full. But come Tuesday morning it has all been logged and shipped off.”
Matthews was looking at Claire; he had realised just what she was saying. “No, Winterbottom, I think Miss Williams is referring to the huge pile of bearer bonds languishing in your secondary vault.”
“Rubbish,” cried Winterbottom. “That vault is impregnable; it was built with a thick reinforced concrete floor, and the outer walls and door are just as safe.”
Claire pushed her notebook forwards; it skidded to a halt in front of Kim Henderson, who up to now had been silent. She picked up the book, looked at the drawing and the scribble and almost started laughing.
“Well, Winterbottom. I think you need to look at the evidence; it appears that you might be correct in the floor being impenetrable, but Claire has discovered that there is an old Victorian sewer running underneath that was not backfilled during the refurbishment of the bank and the building of the shopping centre.”
"That's right,” replied Claire, “and if I'm correct, the Bonners are holed up in the shop next door. They concocted a plan to get the owner out of the way every day for four hours while they worked in the basement. If you look at the plan, you will see that there is a basement and then another space below no. 44, which extends under the bank and into the shopping centre. At the extreme end there is a hollow section, where I assume an old wall was, and they can use the opening to come up and then go through the two layers of brick into your vault.”
Winterbottom lost the remaining colour in his cheeks and simply replied. “The alarms — what about the alarms?”
“They won't work, or they might work, but the security service will not receive a signal. I'm thinking that they will set a charge to burn the power supply, the bank will lose power, and the alarms will switch to backup batteries. They break through the wall, and the inner alarm goes off. But, and this is the intriguing bit, they have some sort of device that fools the bank and the security system into thinking that nothing is wrong. Then they have all the time they need to steal the bonds and scarper, as it were.”
Claire folded her arms and leant slightly forward, and her initial pendant swung out.
“So how do you like those onions?”
The room was quiet for what seemed like ages; Claire looked over at George, and he winked at her. Then Detective Matthews took the book from Inspector Henderson and examined it. Finally, he said.
“I think it would be foolish of us to ignore what Miss Williams has given us. Inspector Henderson, what do you think?”
Kim Henderson smiled slightly. “I think we do whatever Claire wants done; it's not the first time I have witnessed her leaps of faith. So what do you want to do, Claire?”
Claire was shocked, partly at herself for the way she had spoken to these people, but inside she was screaming at herself. ‘What do you think of those onions?’ How could she have said that?
“I think" she said finally after calming down, “that the Ealing police, with the assistance of the bank and Detective Matthews. The Ealing police, with the assistance of the bank and Detective Matthews, should arrange for the bonds to be removed quietly on Monday evening, along with the uplift from the night safe. Then on Tuesday evening you lay in wait for the Bonners to appear. If I am right, you will have finally caught up with a couple of London's criminals. If I am wrong, the bonds were going to be moved anyway at some point; all I have done is force your hand.”
Winterbottom looked at Claire. “So you do not want to play any part in the capture of these criminals, then? I find that very hard to believe. Do you not think your plan is good enough to be there at the kill, as it were?”
“No, I’m known around here as ‘the shy private eye’, and I like to keep it that way. I will be there, but not inside the bank; I want to watch what happens with the way they get around your security outside.”
The meeting breaks up, and Claire is left with George and Henderson.
“So, you really think that the Bonners will do what you said?” Asked Henderson.
“Yes, what I didn't say was that I knew Craig at school; he was one of those kids who were into everything. He made silly smoke bombs in chemistry classes; it was the talk of the school. I was a couple of years below him, but he was a legend then, and I know he is still the same today.”
“Right, George. Set up a task force. Obtain a couple of plainclothes officers on overtime for Tuesday evening near the bank; they can watch the crowd. I'm going to make sure we have all the exits covered for my escape attempt. George, you and I will sit in the vault alongside Matthews and Winterbottom and see what happens. Claire, I suggest you go home and prepare yourself for whatever you will do tomorrow."
8. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-8
Tuesday morning came and went; the weather deteriorated, and it was raining quite hard while Claire was in the office adding more cards to her filing system. But then it was time to head off, and she picked up her Polaroid camera and took the bus to Ealing Broadway. When she got there, the rain had slowed to a fine drizzle, but the streets were still filled with people, banners were being waved and there were groups chanting slogans. She headed for Oliver's and grabbed a quick cup of tea before heading back out, where she found a spot across the road from the bank and where she could see down the alleyway.
Meanwhile, George Robinson, Kim Henderson, Detective Matthews and Winterbottom were sitting on uncomfortable chairs in the gloomy vault. George was humming a tune until Matthews shone his torch in his face, so he stayed quiet. The sounds of the march outside were a muffled roar, and then all of a sudden there was a distinct hammering sound that felt like it was all around them.
Matthews waved at them, and they all went and hid behind the large oak cabinet that was located near the strongroom door. Dust started to float around the room within minutes as the hammering grew louder and closer. George stopped himself sneezing just as a brick was removed from the opposite wall.
Everything stopped for a second as a loud, muffled bang was heard and the emergency lights came on. Winterbottom jumped, as he expected the alarms to ring, but they didn't. Instead a small slightly dazzling beam of yellowish light flickered across the room, and then more bricks were slowly and carefully removed from the hole that was appearing in the wall. When some twenty or so had been removed, two men climbed through the hole and headed for the large metal cabinets that lined the far wall. As one of them pulled the door open, Matthews shouted. “Hands up.”
In the confusion the two men ran for the opening just as George arrived; one of them kicked him, and the pair headed back the way they had come. Henderson calmly pulled her police whistle from her tunic, and taking a moment to brush off some dust, she blew the whistle with all her might. In the vault the whistle rang out, and the three men clasped their hands over their ears. From the hole came shouts and the obvious noise of a scuffle; George went through and rushed off after the fleeing robbers. Some moments later Henderson casually followed along with Matthews and the stunned Winterbottom.
They followed the disused sewer into the lower basement of the shop, where three uniformed officers had captured the Bonner brothers. Henderson allowed George to read them their rights, and they were marched off. In the excitement, nobody thought to check on Mr Jabez Wilson.
9. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE XD/92/2-9
The next morning, Claire headed to the office and was surprised to see Mr. Wilson waiting for her. From the look on his face, she could tell he was both annoyed and confused. She unlocked the door, and he followed her up to the office.
“Miss Williams, I find myself at both a loss and rather confused,” Jabez said. “I awoke this morning to find my basement full of bricks and footprints, and my assistant and his cousin missing. Can you offer an explanation?”
Claire smiled; this was not going to be easy.
“Mr. Wilson, where do I start?” she began, leaning toward him. “How was it that you slept through all of the commotion last night? The police trampled through your shop, your basement, and via a disused Victorian sewer, right into the bank next door. There, they apprehended two crooks they have been searching for, who are now in police custody.”
“But where are my assistant and his cousin?” blurted out Jabez.
“The robbers were your assistant and his cousin—who was also a man. They are the Bonner brothers, and they have been committing crimes all around London for the past five or so years. I'm going to assume they drugged you and then put you to bed while they executed their plan to steal thousands in bearer bonds.”
“But why me?”
“That's the ingenious part, Mr. Wilson. The brothers had already worked out how to rob the bank. You see, Craig—the one you call Carol—is your assistant's younger brother, and he is the brains of the outfit. They located your shop and realized they could work on breaking into the sewer, which I'm guessing they learned about the same way I did: by visiting the library here in Hanwell. They devised a plot. Firstly, Jabez, you greedily took on an assistant who would work for half pay as long as he got free lodgings. And then, they worked on that greed to get you to leave the shop during the middle part of the day, allowing them to break down the wall and work out their entry point into the bank. It was a touch of genius for them to send the fax from your office and then delay it a couple of hours for you to receive it.”
Jabez sat there in silence. He ran his hands through his red hair and then asked, “What about the noise?”
“Easy, they didn't have to hide much, as the buses rumble past your door day and night. The streets are quieter after ten in the mornings as people are at work, and anyone who did hear anything would just think builders were on the job.”
Again, Jabez asked a simple question. “But I’m out a hundred and fifty pounds a week now, and I have no assistant. What will I do?”
Claire got up, crossed to the other office, and put the kettle on. While she was waiting, she rummaged in Billy’s cabinet and took out a well-thumbed business card. She made the tea and handed a mug to Jabez.
“Here, take this card and phone this bloke. I'd bet he would pay good money to hear your story and how you were hoodwinked by two notorious bank robbers.”
Jabez drank his tea and departed. As he walked away, Claire was sure he was whistling.
The rest of the day blurred into more filing, reading reports, and deciding which of the many silly—and in some cases, downright dangerous—crimes people wanted investigated. She decided to head home at four o'clock and take her mother out for a meal.
Case Closed, Filed, and Archived
A day or so later, she was again in the office. Billy was banging on about some case or other that he was trying to palm off on her when George turned up with a copy of the Ealing Gazette. He smiled and tossed the paper onto her desk. There, on the front page, was the headline:
BANK ROBBERY FOILED BY A JOINT EALING AND METROPOLITAN POLICE OPERATION. DETAILS BELOW.
And, in pride of place, was a picture of Inspector Henderson, Detective Matthews, and a rather scared-looking Mr. Winterbottom.
Claire laughed like a drain and, picking up her scissors, cut the article out and grabbed the pot of glue. She started to paste the back of the newspaper clipping, where there was a report about Jebez and then her eye was drawn to a small headline that simply read:
RED-HEADED LEAGUE SEEKS ABLE MAN FOR INTERESTING POSITION: DETAILS COMING SOON…
Shrugging her shoulders, she slapped glue all over it and pasted the paper into her new scrapbook.
George said, “What are you doing that for?”
Claire looked at him and smiled. “If its good enough for Sherlock Holmes, who am I to argue? It's just another item for my evidence table.”
Closing the book, she continued, “Come on, George. Buy me a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea, and tell me all about the daring arrest of the Bonner brothers.”
“Ok,” replied George, “but I have one other thing for you.” He fished about in his pocket and threw a box on the desk. Claire opened it and inside was a circuit board and two screw terminals.
“Whats this for?” She asked, turning the device over in her hand.
“Thats what Craig used to ‘fool’ the alarm systems, I thought you might like to have it. It's your reward for solving another case.”