Page 7
were the sounds of blows and the rapid exhalation of breath. A cell door opened and someone was thrown to the ground inside. The door slammed shut. Poor old Frank he thought, his luck too had finally have run out. He gave it a few minutes then softly called Labied’s name. There was no reply. He tried again; still nothing.
She particularly loved the garden in the early morning. Goodness, how she would miss it but it would be worth it she told herself. They were experiencing an Indian summer and the roses still looked wonderful. Even with the autumn chill it was still a lovely place to be. She tried to imagine life without her garden but it made her feel unhappy so she thought of him and it cheered her up a bit. Of course they would find somewhere where she could begin again, maybe they would even find a place that already had a lovely garden. It had taken her twenty years to achieve what she had, she wondered if she had another twenty to invest. She found herself frowning. It was unlikely that her husband would look after things as she had. She went back into the house; perhaps a cup of tea would make her feel better.
It was an hour before the sergeant came to get him from his cell. The fellow spoke only halting English but he thought he understood something about a visit from the consul. He sat in the inspector’s office for another fifteen minutes, the sergeant, large and menacing stood behind him. All his efforts to engage the man in conversation came to nothing.
Ram Chand came into the room as the sergeant snapped to attention. With the inspector was the British representative. It took a real effort not to cry out as Grindley recognised Labied. The inspector was in high spirits. He offered his new visitor a seat. Labied ignored Grindley and continued the conversation the two men had obviously begun earlier.
“My dear inspector, you are to be most heartily congratulated on the spectacular capture of Aram Singh. It is hard to believe that I won’t be addressing Superintendent Ram Chand this time next week.” Labied was laying it on with a trowel.
The inspector was clearly delighted. It seemed he too had forgotten about Grindley. “Well you know Mr Labied, I have been on his trail for months. Last week we tracked down and killed two of his associates. I finally wore him down. Not an hour ago he walked in to this station and surrendered himself to me.”
Labied was once more effusive. “Quite a coup inspector, almost unprecedented. Simply a fabulous piece of police work.”
Ram Chand sat at his desk and beamed. Then suddenly he remembered Grindley and the smile was gone. He pointed to his other prisoner waiting nervously in his chair. “But we must not forget the purpose of your visit, our apprehension of an almost as important criminal.”
Labied nodded and pulled out a notepad. “Indeed so inspector. You will understand I have my report to write and I am sure things will take their proper course but I would be grateful for a few facts so that we can, when the time is right, notify the family and put me in a position to handle the press when the story breaks.”
The policeman was happy to cooperate. “Of course, a few facts, where should I begin?” He went through, more or less, the same damning litany he had given Grindley earlier, throwing in a few more incriminating details here and there. “I’m afraid we have your countryman bang to writs,” he didn’t quite get the aphorism right but seem pleased with his efforts. The inspector was in a good mood.
Grindley looked across at Labied waiting for the telling words that would reduce the inspector’s case to ashes and set him free. “It would seem to be an open and shut case. Thank you for your time inspector.” Labied said, rising to leave. Grindley couldn’t believe his ears.
The inspector held up his hands. “Where are my manners Mr Labied?” He asked. “Before you set off back to the embassy perhaps you will take a little tea?” Labied sat down again and said he would like that very much. Ram Chand said something to the sergeant in a local language and the man left the room.
“There’s just one thing inspector,” Labied addressed the policemen. The inspector leaned across the desk expectantly. “You mentioned a book of bonds, is it possible I might just have the merest sight of it?” Labied asked.
Ram Chand thought about the request for a moment then nodded his assent. He stood and, to Grindley’s horror, drew his pistol and released the safety catch. Labied watched, seemingly unperturbed. Grindley was convinced the game was up. He half expected the inspector might shoot Labied there and then but instead the policemen gave Grindley a pointed look and turned away to face a photograph of Gandhi on the wall behind him. Placing the gun within easy reach, on a windowsill, he pulled the picture aside to reveal a safe. He dialled in the combination and opened the door. He took out the much-handled Gulliver’s Travels and turned back with it towards his desk. As he did so Labied shot him. It was another of those neat, through the top of the head jobs that seemed his speciality. Ram Chand opened his mouth but nothing came out. He fell in a heap behind his desk.
For the umpteenth time in the past few hours Grindley was left aghast by the turn of events. “Christ,” he stammered, “you’ve just killed a policemen.”
Labied looked irritated, “What would you have suggested?” He asked dryly, “a tango in the moonlight?”
At that moment the sergeant kicked open the door and burst into the room, foolishly, carrying a tray of tea things. Labied once again had him down with a single shot. Then he was across the desk and into the safe. Quickly he picked out the gun he had given Grindley earlier and tucked it into his belt. He lifted the book from the inspector’s hands and carefully unstuck the corner of another bond. “We will need this to finance our little excursion.” He handed the book to Grindley. “Guard this with your life,” he said, with just a hint of derision.
Suddenly there was a loud explosion from somewhere in the building. Within seconds all hell had broken loose outside. Grindley ducked down involuntarily as a barrage of shots were fired. Get out of this he thought, mentally daring Labied’s resourcefulness. Labied checked his watch. “Bang on time,” he murmured. Grindley gave up trying to work out what was going on. It was best to just go with the flow. The sounds of a gun battle came from all around them. It subsided as quickly as it had begun. A short, dark, heavily moustached man appeared in the doorway with what looked like a sub-machine gun in his hands. Grindley expected Labied to shoot him or vice versa. “Frankie Sahib,” The man looked across at Labied and gave him a toothy grin.
Labied went over and shook his hand. “Aram Singh, my old friend, what’s the score?”
Aram Singh flicked his head. “All dead,” he replied cheerfully.
Labied handed him the bond. The Indian looked it over carefully, displaying more expertise than Grindley would have expected but by now nothing surprised him. The little man flicked his head again. “OK” he said.
“It’s time we weren’t here,” Labied grabbed Grindley by the shoulder. “This time I am coming with you.” He turned to Aram Singh. “I’ll leave you to finish up here.” Aram nodded. “Wait.” Labied went back to the safe and pulled out a big bundle of Indian currency. He tossed it to the Indian. “A bonus for your lads, you can all get drunk tonight.” Aram smiled and bowed lightly. Then the two westerners were out in the road and moving fast as a crowd begin to gather, no one tried to stop them.
“What’s going to happen now?” Grindley asked as they moved towards a main road.
“We go straight to the airport and Aram Singh and his boys burn the place down.” Labied told him as he hailed a cab. Labied greeted the driver. “Ranjit, perfect timing”. The driver looked in the rear view mirror and acknowledged his passengers.
The Emirates flight to Dubai felt like heaven. They were the only passengers in first class. Grindley had spent the first half hour expecting the plane to be recalled. He still couldn’t completely believe they were home and dry.
