Harm's Way by Catherine Aird

Author:Catherine Aird [Aird, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504010597
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Your adversary the devil

“I say, Calleshire,” chattered the voice on the telephone line, “you do realise that today’s a Sunday, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Sloan evenly. In the police force you knew not the day nor the hour when you might be working. “Yes, Met, I do.”

“City,” the voice corrected him with celerity. “Not Met.”

“Sorry,” said Sloan. That had been a faux pas of the first order.

“You’re talking to the City Fraud Squad,” said the voice. “That’s who you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” said Sloan. “I’m sorry about its being a Sunday but we’ve got a bit of a problem down here.”

“Speak on.”

“Can you tell me anything about a character called Ivor Harbeton?”

“You bet I can.” Something approaching a cackle came down the telephone line. “Don’t say that he’s been operating in your neck of the woods, too?”

“Not operating, exactly,” said Sloan obscurely.

“But—”

“But there may be a link.” Perhaps, thought Sloan, that was too restrained a way of putting it. Mrs. Meg Mellot had canted over at the mere mention of the man’s name. And taken her time to come round.

“You’ll be lucky to come off best,” said the voice frankly. “Nobody else has that we can see.”

“Tell me,” invited Sloan. Victims often brought death on themselves. In more ways than one.

“He’s clever,” said the voice grudgingly. “I give him that.”

Sloan was not surprised. The unclever did not as a rule attract the attentions of either the Fraud Squad or the newspapers. The Bench of Magistrates dealt with them and then went home to their wives complaining about the low level of education in the country.

“An entrepreneur,” expanded the man in London, “that’s what I would call Ivor Harbeton.”

It wasn’t surprising, thought Sloan, that a nation of shopkeepers didn’t have the right word.

“And,” went on the voice drily, “he’s nearly always nearly legal.”

“Ah,” said Sloan. Those were the difficult cases. Give him a flagrant breach of the law any day. Justice hanging on a pure technicality didn’t go down well with either judge or jury. Even less well when hanging had been the operative word.

“Quite ruthless, of course,” continued the voice in a detached way.

Ruthlessness was not an endearing characteristic. It might have been that that had made a victim of Ivor Harbeton. If he was the victim, that is. Sloan didn’t know yet. What he did know was that Meg Mellot had abruptly fainted at his feet. And that her husband had gone down on his knees beside her, imploring her to lie quiet and still until she felt better.

“There’s no sentiment in business,” carried on his interlocutor in the City breezily, “but I would have said Ivor Harbeton was born without it anyway.”

“Anything known?” enquired Sloan. That was police shorthand for a lot.

“He hasn’t got form,” replied the voice, “but then generally speaking the villains we deal with in this department don’t have.”

In police parlance, though, they were still villains.

“Not until the balloon goes up in a big way, that is,” said the Fraud Squad man.

“And has it with Ivor Harbeton?” asked Sloan.

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