Fleischer raged at hearing his real name being spoken over the phone, the line to the Isle of Wight suddenly died, and in desperation, he pressed down on the telephone’s cradle, bellowing angrily into the receiver, ‘hallo, hallo. Falcon… Damn you!’ He placed the receiver back onto the cradle. ‘And damn you to hell, Mr Swan!’
Swan was also on the telephone, speaking to his SID associate at the police station. ‘So, I take it, Lovett has now left you both to carry on?’
‘Yes Alex. It’s just me and Fred here now. We have been thinking though, maybe these were perhaps professional killers.’
Swan raised a brow. ‘And what makes you think that Arthur?’
‘Well, we’ve just got the ballistics report from Lambeth, on the gun that was used to kill Ruger. It was a 9mm automatic pistol, and the bullet was of German origin. The ballistics boys think, the pistol could have been a Mauser. Probably a P-38. So, if these were professionals, you know what this could mean?’
Swan nodded. ‘I do, indeed. Someone could be pulling their trigger fingers, and, they could also be of German origin.’
‘You got it one,’ praised Gable.
Swan thought for a few moments. ‘Okay, let’s run with this, for now. Have you and Fred managed to think about who and why?’
‘The only link we know Alex, is that the victims, were both ex-German Nazis.’
Swan flinched at the term used by his colleague. ‘Quite so. Well, you better prepare yourself for this then old chap, Ruger and Kappelman, did work together, on the ME-163 Komet rocket fighter at Peenemunde, and became firm friends. I interviewed the other German engineer, a man named, Heinz Gruber, and he told me all about them. So, it is looking like the theory, you chaps have, may carry some weight. If this is the case, then we are looking at something that may have happened with them, in the past. I’m thinking, Ruger went to see Kappelman, before he was shot. He was then followed and chased down to the river. Then, after they shot him, these assassins also paid Kappelman a visit, probably because they were interrupted by Eddie Stevenson, and they couldn’t get the information they needed to know, from his old friend. This, of course would account for the bruises found on Kappelman’s body. They obviously roughed him up, trying to get him to talk.’
Gable became excited. ‘Do you know Alex? You may have something there. We’re going to call it a night, and resume in the morning. I’ve asked Mr Stevenson to come in tomorrow on the off-chance, he may have thought of something else that might help us. So, how about you? Have you a place to stay tonight?’
Swan smiled looking over at Morris. ‘Because of the incident, we’re on an MOD lock-down. So, it looks like Detective Sergeant Morris from Newport CID and I, are staying here for the night. Have a nice evening old chap, give my love to Annie, and I will speak with you, in the morning. Hallett is under pressure to do another test firing of Black Arrow, so I think tomorrow, will be a busy day.’
In the early hours of the following morning, at the GPO’s Mount Pleasant sorting office, in Central London, Jim Osborn, emptied the bundle of letters and small parcels from the SW1A 2AF-labelled pigeon-hole, into his brown mail sack. The building, situated off the Clerkenwell Road, was vast, with a network of tunnels beneath it serving a special railway that carried the mail across London.
Osborn, walked past the long line of tables, situated in the centre of one of the large sorting rooms, bumping into his colleague, Mike Murray, shouted to him. ‘Jim, I forgot to tell you, I found one of your letters in with my pile, on Saturday morning.’
Murray walked over and handed Osborn the envelope. He looked at it inquisitively. ‘There you go, mate. I hope that this wasn’t important.’ Murray gave his colleague a sarcastic smile, referring to the date stamped on it, from the Brixton depot, the previous Friday.
Osborn thanked Murray, exited the building, and climbed into the van. A short while later, having driven through the empty early morning streets from Farringdon, along the London ring road into Westminster, he parked the red coloured vehicle in the small cul de sac of Wellesley Mews, reached behind him to retrieve his sack, then climbed out of the van, to begin his Whitehall post-round.
Suddenly, remembering the letter given to him by Murray, he stopped to look at the handwritten address, walked up the steps and posted it through the letter box.
A few hours later, an exuberant Detective Inspector Lionel Dugdale burst through the door of the Firing Officer’s office. ‘Morning chaps,’ said Dugdale, jovially.
Swan looked up at him from the desk, nursing a mug of coffee, and DS Morris sat opposite, his coffee mug masking the bottom half of his face, as he gave out a big yawn.
Swan smiled, staring at the object in the Inspector’s hands. ‘Good morning, Lionel. How did it go with the brace?’
Dugdale gave them both a broad smile, holding up the brace from Gantry 1. ‘Looks like we have a perfect match, gentlemen! Powell was killed with the brace from Gantry 2. All we need to do now, is find it. My guess is, that our killer flung it over the cliff, after murdering his victim. I have taken the liberty in commandeering some officers from the escaped convict hunt at Parkhurst, to search the bottom of the cliff under the gantry. They’ll be arriving later on, this morning.’
Swan gave a positive sigh. ‘That will please Mr Hallett, especially, as his Black Arrow, is due for another test this afternoon.’ He clutched his empty mug, rose from the desk, and walked over to the filing cabinet for a re-fill of coffee. ‘I’ll talk to him, when he comes in, and inform him of our developments. I would also like to see Heinz Gruber, again. But, before we do that, let’s wait and see if this brace can be found.’
Morris, lifted his tired head. ‘Do you think Gruber is our man, Alex?’ Swan turned around, taking a sip of coffee. ‘I think so. But, what I also need, is the tie-in to the other murders. So I think we’ll wait for a while. Gruber can’t go anywhere right now, but at least we can keep him within easy reach, until it’s time.’
The others agreed with Swan, and with the planned test firing, also knew that time was not on their side.
Chapter 19
In Totland, Trost climbed back into the car, and having just finished a phone call with Fleischer, spoke to his big colleague. ‘Merlin, says to wait, in case Falcon, contacts him. He also gave us a new potential target. His name is Alex Swan, an official sent from London, to investigate the death of Ruger, and he drives a British sports car, a green one.
Baumann, gave a menacing smile. ‘So, why did Falcon, not meet with us yesterday?’
Trost explained the situation, ‘he has killed someone, who witnessed him trying to sabotage the rocket, and now all the workers are not allowed to leave the site while the investigation is taking place. We will have to…’ Trost abruptly stopped in mid-sentence, as four marked police Panda Cars passed by them, their sirens wailing. All were full of uniformed men, and Trost guessed that they could be heading in the direction of Highdown. When the last car had passed, the two men looked at each other. ‘It looks like we will now have to wait a lot longer.’
The Desk Sergeant at Battersea Bridge Road Police Station, showed Eddie Stevenson, into the interview room.
Gable approached him and shook his hand. ‘Thanks for coming in, Mr Stevenson. This is Detective Inspector Whitaker, please take a seat.’ Gable sat opposite him at the aging wooden table; its own history in the room, stretching back since the early days of the Metropolitan Police.