Kelso finished his brandy, and thought of the vole he and Ellie had found: Trewick’s little packages might well have had their contents spilled more than once – the animal had not been dead that long.
Slauden continued speaking and Kelso began to suspect that the drugs dealer’s frankness was merely a skilful ploy to encourage him to open up and reveal his own part in Trewick’s treachery. His only ace was that Slauden seemed to be underestimating his intelligence, treating him like a small-time crook. Some ace. He also wondered if he were not grandstanding for his own hirelings, a little man impressing his minions with his own cleverness. ‘We are still not certain of just who was stealing from us, but Andy Trewick was high on our suspicion list. He associated with the Americans on the NATO base, you see – a natural outlet for soft drugs. Also, his social activities were centred around Norwich and Ipswich, where there is a big demand for cannabis and marijuana. The last factor which made him highly suspect was that he was naïve enough to imagine he could get away with it; nobody else in my employ would be so stupid.’
‘Amen to that,’ Bannen commented, his wide grin accentuating the redness of his swollen nose.
‘Trewick was watched very carefully for some time until two events caused us even more concern. One was your arrival in Adleton. Your occasional “chats” with our wayward fisherman seemed innocent enough – we soon learned that you were supposed to be a conservationist – but your anxiety over his disappearance, even though your enquiries seemed casual, confirmed the connection. It was then we had to consider whether Trewick’s activities were just confined to the surrounding area, or had branched into a wider field, where the demand – and the price – is always high. We concluded that you were helping to push our property into the London market. And that, my greedy friend, would have proved extremely harmful to us. It also implied that we may have been wrong in estimating just how much was being taken from our laboratory. Dr Collingbury still insists the amount was minimal, but then at present-day street value, a single LSD microdot is worth more than £5, one pound of cannabis is worth between £600 and £700, and pure cocaine can fetch well over £13,000 per pound. Mix the coke with milk powder or lactose and your profit margin is phenomenal. So you see, quantity is relative to price. And, of course, a new source of supply in the city always creates interest, and speculation from outsiders – be it from the police or others involved in the drugs trade – is something we do not encourage.’
‘Look, you’ve got this all wrong . . .’
‘Allow me to finish. I said that there were two events which increased our concern. The second was the most alarming of all.’ Slauden reached into the fireplace and picked up a short log lying among others in the hearth. Kelso could feel his own muscles beginning to tauten as he watched him place the log in the fire. Another followed and the flames lapped hungrily at the damp wood. Finally, satisfied that the fire was replenished, Slauden wiped his hands with a handkerchief and settled back in the armchair. ‘I learned the other day,’ he went on as though he had not interrupted himself, ‘from inside sources, that a pilot from the NATO base had deliberately crashed his aircraft into the sea after having injected himself with LSD. I think you can well imagine the stir such an incident caused among the military and the Ministry of Defence. What if the plane had been armed with nuclear missiles? What if the deranged pilot had chosen to attack a strategic target? And what if the whole episode was part of some sinister plot by a foreign power to undermine confidence in the NATO Forces defence structure in Europe? Just imagine, if you can, the furore – suppressed though it was – that broke out.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Do you know the enemy whom many US military chiefs of staff fear most? The enemy inside. The left-wing infiltrators who supply their susceptible troops with drugs. It’s become a major headache since Vietnam, and the generals are still unsure how to combat it. Reds are no longer under the bed – now they’re making it. They know the moral fibre of the fighting man has been weakened by too much soft living and influenced by too much liberal thinking in the media. Pleasure and apathy are the trends, and the soldier, sailor or airman is no different from his civilian counterpart: he wants his share.
‘You may have noticed, Kelly, that in England alone, the frequency of military aircraft crashes has increased considerably over recent years. Much of the blame has been attributed to dangerous low-flying training exercises – the only way enemy radar can be foxed; but have you wondered if the cause of the “accidents” was not more sinister? Perhaps you haven’t, but those in authority certainly have. And that’s why the results of the autopsy on the pilot who crashed a few days ago threw them into such panic. It made matters very uncomfortable for us here, knowing the base would be overturned in trying to locate the drug’s source, and we knew that Trewick’s dangerous activities would have to be brought to a swift halt.’
Kelso was angry despite his fear. ‘But you had no definite proof it was him?’
‘His running away was proof enough. He knew we were onto him.’
‘And you killed him for that?’
‘His death was premature, but yes, we would have disposed of him anyway as soon as we had learned what we needed to know.’
‘So when I talk, you’ll “dispose” of me.’
‘Not necessarily. It may be that you can be absorbed into my organization. If you can prove to me that your outlets are worthwhile, then perhaps you can be of use.’
Kelso did not believe him for one moment, but he was trapped by his own cover, a guise that had developed into something more. He shook his head and said doubtfully, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Then let me take you into my confidence and tell you more of my organization. Perhaps I’ll manage to convince you of my sincerity by showing you how you could fit in.’
‘I don’t think he should be told anything more,’ Henson commented.
‘Me, neither,’ Bannen put in. ‘Let’s get rid of him now; you know we can make him disappear off the face of the earth without leaving so much as a fingernail.’
Slauden’s eyes blazed. ‘I don’t believe I need your opinion, Bannen. That goes for you, too, Julian. Allow me to handle this in my own way.’
Kelso wanted to make a break for it there and then. He knew ultimately there was no way he could win, no matter how he lied, or whoever listened. He glanced towards the door, but the two men who had brought him up from the basement stood before it, looking bored yet nonetheless menacing. The chemist still sat at the writing desk by the window and looked frightened by the whole situation. Bannen stood beside Slauden’s chair, ready to pounce on Kelso at the slightest provocation, while Henson sat nonchalantly on the arm of the settee.
Kelso knew it was no use: even if he had not been in such a battered state, it would have been impossible to tackle all of them. A burning log on the fire crackled and he stared hopelessly into the flames. His attention was drawn back to the small man opposite.
‘Our set-up is simply this: we deal in the importation of raw material and the exportation of the fully processed product.’ Slauden smiled. By “raw material” I do, of course, refer to various basic drugs. Cocaine comes from Peru, cannabis from Pakistan, India and the Middle East. Opium comes mainly from Turkey. My own legitimate chemical company provides certain precursors and compounds used in processing or synthesis, although we bring in ergotomine tartrate, the base used in the synthesis of pure LSD, from a company in Laupheim. Ironically, the government, itself, encourages the production of milk powder in my own mill across the river – providing it’s suitable only for animal consumption – whenever the country suffers yet another “milk mountain”. All negotiations are carried out in the Algarve area of Portugal, which, I’m sorry to say, is fast becoming known as the mecca of such transactions; it’s from there that all materials are brought into this country.’
‘You’ve got boats from Portugal coming upriver?’ Kelso’s curiosity was overcoming his apprehension.
‘That would be rather stupid. It could b
e done, of course, but it would be too risky. Even the once relatively safe method of smuggling items in aboard light aircraft has become too obvious for safety. No, Kelly, the boats come nowhere near our own shoreline. Surely Trewick told you that?’
‘I’ve already told you: he was cagey. He wouldn’t let me know too much.’
‘And you couldn’t work out that the goods were exchanged at sea?’
‘Trewick’s fishing boat!’
Slauden looked at Kelso in surprise. ‘Tom Adcock’s boat, actually; your friend was only a deckhand. Do you really mean to say you didn’t know?’
‘Andy kept everything to himself,’ Kelso replied. ‘He said it was best I didn’t know too much.’
‘I see.’ The detective caught the look that passed between Slauden and his personal secretary. ‘Then no doubt you are anxious to learn just how the goods were brought in under the watchful gaze of the coastguard and police patrols. It’s all very simple, really; an idea taken from the Germans in the last World War. They used to secretly bring down submarines through the fjords of Norway into the open sea by towing them beneath harmless-looking trawlers. We have merely adapted their idea: the drugs are sealed in watertight, weighted containers, attached to Adcock’s drifter somewhere in the North Sea, then towed back into Adleton’s harbour. When the time is right, and always at night, my men – we have some excellent underwater divers – detach the container and hook it onto my own motor cruiser, which is conveniently anchored nearby. From there, the container is brought upriver to my boathouse and its contents unloaded. The underground passageway – built, by the way, by the original owners of Eshley Hall, who were smugglers like myself – provides a discreet and useful link to my laboratory. The empty container is returned for the next run and exchanged for another, which holds the new merchandise. Rather clever, don’t you agree?’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Kelso was forced to admit, even though the revelation confirmed his fear that there was no way they would let him go free. Slauden was feeding him the information in the sure knowledge that it would get no further.
‘Once we have the, uh, raw materials, as it were, safely in the laboratory, processing and packaging takes place. Our LSD tabletting, for instance: we take great care in producing as many variations of shapes and colours and content as possible, so that they cannot be traced back to one particular source. How many variations do we have now, Dr Collingbury?’
For the first time, the bespectacled man spoke and his voice was as nervous as his demeanour. ‘I, er, er, nearly sixty now. I think.’
‘Yes, nearly sixty. We also produce LSD in liquid or crystal form, as you well know. From crude morphine blocks we produce heroin of the highest quality, and naturally, it’s safer than the extremely nasty “Chinese” which has flooded the market in recent years. Of course, ours is far more expensive, but then “Chinese” contains many impurities – highly toxic poisons, in fact, such as strychnine. It’s hardly surprising brown powder often comes cheaper than cannabis. Two other synthetic drugs we produce with similar effects to the opium alkaloids are Pethidine and Methadone, and even ready-mixed pure cocaine and heroin is packaged here.’
‘It’s some operation,’ Kelso commented flatly.
‘Quite so.’
‘And you manufacture THC. Isn’t that as dangerous as “Chinese”?’
‘Hardly. The risk is only from overdose and that is entirely up to the individual. We merely cater for every need and, if cannabis is too mild for certain people, we are happy to provide something stronger.’
‘Terrific,’ Kelso muttered under his breath.
Slauden’s voice became tight. ‘We deal only in quality merchandise here, Kelly. I’m sure you realized that when you sampled what you stole from us.’
‘You should get the Queen’s Award for Industry.’
The little man’s smile was strange. ‘In a way you are right. My organization is both efficient and productive. The standards I set are high.’
‘Do you mind telling me how you distribute the drugs?’
‘Why not? I’ve told you everything else.’
‘That might not be wise, Sir Anthony,’ Henson quickly said.
‘Nonsense. At the end of this conversation, Kelly will either be with us, or against us. The latter has only one consequence. He cannot harm us in any way.’ Henson looked uncertain, but Slauden continued: ‘The drugs are taken across river to my mill, which not only produces animal feedstuffs, but specializes in transforming certain raw materials that other mills cannot utilize because of lack of equipment. It gives us more delivery outlets, d’you see? We supply to other mills all over the country.’
‘And the drugs go with the deliveries?’
‘Can you think of a more innocent guise? Who would imagine that among twenty tons of animal feed there would be perhaps half-a-million pounds’ worth of drugs. The appropriate sacks are dropped off at certain points along the route, of course, many at ports from where they can be shipped abroad. Obviously we work on a cell system after the delivery point, so that if one group is discovered, then we, the nucleus, cannot be traced. Occasionally, I export direct from here, using coasters from Amsterdam and Rotterdam that bring in dicalcium phosphates or fertilizers. Unfortunately, such legitimate shipments are not frequent and the 250-ton vessels coming upriver attract attention, so their use is limited. However, dispersement of our product has never been a serious problem.’
Kelso was shocked. Slauden’s operation was simple, productive, and effective. He had a perfect personal cover and an ideal business front. No wonder the reprisal against Trewick had been so severe. He wondered how many other ‘misguided’ employees had suffered the same fate.
‘Now perhaps you can see how you could personally benefit from joining my organization. I promise you, the rewards are great. But first you must give me some information about your own network.’
Kelso cleared his throat, thinking fast. ‘I worked alone with Andy Trewick. It was no big deal, just a steady supply to friends of mine in London. Students, photographers, advertising people – like I said, nothing big.’
‘And the service men from the NATO base.’
‘No, that was Andy’s side of things. I only dealt with the London end.’
‘And the girl?’
‘Ellie? She’s just my girlfriend; she’s got nothing to do with all this.’
‘He’s lying again.’ The words were soft, unaccusing, and came from Henson, who was casually examining his fingernails.
‘I’m not. Why the hell should I lie to you?’
‘To save your fuckin skin,’ Bannen snarled. ‘He’s not in this alone. If he’s peddlin in town, he’s got a lot more backup. Let me get it out of him my way.’
Kelso tensed, but Slauden shook his head. ‘I had hoped, Kelly, that by taking you into my confidence in such detail you might be equally frank with me. Please try a little harder.’
‘I’ve told you the truth. There’s nothing more to tell.’
‘I hope I haven’t wasted my time, Kelly.’
‘That’s all there is to it.’
Bannen moved away from the chair and towards Kelso. ‘Come on, you fuckin toe-rag, what other villains are workin with you?’
‘Bannen, he may not be working with other villains at all.’ Henson was looking across at Slauden, who gave the slightest nod of his head.
‘What are you talkin about?’ Bannen spat out. ‘There’s bound to be others involved. Gawd knows how much Trewick creamed off.’
Henson switched his gaze to Kelso. ‘Oh, there may be others involved, but perhaps not the sort you’re thinking of. It could be that our friend here is working for the police.’
Bannen was stunned. And so was Kelso.
“You’re crazy!’ Kelso protested.
Henson smiled.
‘I think we’ll find out soon enough.’ Slauden leaned forward in his chair. ‘Dr Collingbury, you know what’s needed.’
The bespectacled man left the room and
Slauden said, ‘We may well be crazy, Kelly – if, indeed, that is your real name – but I’m afraid we can’t take the chance with you. We’re expecting our next shipment tomorrow, which means we will be frantically busy over the next few weeks; we will have no time to play games with you. Frankly, you’re a disappointment to me, neither convincing nor interesting. But there is a way of finding out the truth without resorting to Bannen’s brutal methods.’
‘For Christ’s sake, I am telling you the truth!’
Slauden appeared not to have heard. ‘There is another kind of violence, you know; a violence far worse than the physically bruising kind.’
Dr Collingbury re-entered the room clutching a small, black case.
‘I refer to,’ Slauden continued, ‘violence of the mind.’
The black case was placed on a sideboard and opened. ‘Sir Anthony, is this really necessary?’ the chemist asked nervously.
Henson rose from the settee and went over to the sideboard. ‘Yes, it is,’ he answered for his employer. Brushing the thin man aside, he busied himself with the contents of the case.
‘The absorption of lysergic acid into the system can usually be a most euphoric experience,’ Slauden said. ‘Or, under certain conditions and at too large a dosage, it can be a mind-shattering nightmare. The conditions you will be thrown into and the amount you will receive will send you into extreme shock. It will be an experience I don’t think you will wish to repeat. We have to know about you, Kelly, so why not tell us now and avoid this unpleasantness? It really would be the best thing to do.’
Kelso said nothing.
Slauden sighed, then snapped, ‘600 microgrammes, Julian.’
Kelso knew the standard dose was 100 microgrammes.
Henson turned to face them, holding a syringe filled with clear liquid. ‘Roll up his sleeve, Bannen,’ he ordered as he came towards them.
Bannen was only three feet away when Kelso reached into the fire and drew out a burning log. The detective ignored the pain from the hot timber and swung the firebrand towards the advancing man’s face. Bannen tried to duck, but wasn’t fast enough; the burning end of the log struck his cheek, leaving red-hot cinders clinging to his skin. He screamed and tried to beat them away with his hand, but Kelso struck again, using the log as a short spear. It struck Bannen just below his already swollen nose and he fell backwards, hands clutched to his face.