The Enemy. Desmond Bagley
They got Gillian into the ambulance very quickly. Penny used her authority as a doctor and went into the ambulance with her, while Ashton followed in a car. I judged he was in no condition to drive and was pleased to see Benson behind the wheel when he left.
Before he went I took him on one side. ‘I think you ought to know I’ve sent for the police.’
He turned a ravaged face towards me and blinked stupidly. ‘What’s that?’ He seemed to have aged ten years in a quarter of an hour.
I repeated what I’d said, and added, ‘They’ll probably come while you’re still at the hospital. I can tell them what they need to know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll stay here until you get back.’
‘Thanks, Malcolm.’
I watched them drive away and then I was alone in the house. The maid lived in, but Sunday was her day off, and now Benson had gone there was no one in the house but me. I went into the living-room, poured myself a drink and lit a cigarette, and sat down to think of just what the hell had happened.
Nothing made sense. Gillian Ashton was a plain, ordinary woman who lived a placid and unadventurous life. She was a homebody who one day might marry an equally unadventurous man who liked his home comforts. Acid-throwing wasn’t in that picture; it was something that might happen in Soho or the murkier recesses of the East End of London – it was incongruous in the Buckinghamshire countryside.
I thought about it for a long time and got nowhere. Presently I heard a car drive up and a few minutes later I was talking to a couple of uniformed policemen. I couldn’t tell them much; I knew little about Gillian and not much more about Ashton and, although the policemen were polite, I sensed an increasing dissatisfaction. I showed them the tracks and one of them stayed to guard them while the other used his car radio. When I looked from the window a few minutes later I saw he had moved the police car so he could survey the back of the house.
Twenty minutes later a bigger police gun arrived in the person of a plain clothes man. He talked for a while with the constable in the car, then walked towards the house and I opened the door at his knock. ‘Detective-Inspector Honnister,’ he said briskly. ‘Are you Mr Jaggard?’
‘That’s right. Won’t you come in?’
He walked into the hall and stood looking around. As I closed the door he swung on me. ‘Are you alone in the house?’
The constable had been punctilious about his ‘sirs’ but not Honnister. I said, ‘Inspector, I’m going to show you something which I shouldn’t but which, in all fairness to yourself, I think you ought to see. I’m quite aware my answers didn’t satisfy your constable. I’m alone in Ashton’s house, admit to knowing hardly anything about the Ashtons, and he thinks I might run away with the spoons.’
Honnister’s eyes crinkled. ‘From the look of it there’s a lot more to run away with here than spoons. What have you to show me?’
‘This.’ I dug the card out of the pocket which my tailor builds into all my jackets and gave it to him.
Honnister’s eyebrows rose as he looked at it. ‘We don’t get many of these,’ he commented. ‘This is only the third I’ve seen.’ He flicked at the plastic with his thumbnail as he compared me with the photograph. ‘You realize I’ll have to test the authenticity of this.’
‘Of course. I’m only showing it to you so you don’t waste time on me. You can use this telephone or the one in Ashton’s study.’
‘Will I get an answer this time on Sunday?’
I smiled. ‘We’re like the police, Inspector; we never close.’
I showed him into the study and it didn’t take long. He came out within five minutes and gave me back the card. ‘Well, Mr Jaggard; got any notions on this?’
I shook my head. ‘It beats me. I’m not here in a professional capacity, if that’s what you mean.’ From his shrewd glance I could see he didn’t believe me, so I told of my relationship with the Ashtons and all I knew of the attack on Gillian which wasn’t much.
He said wryly, ‘This is one we’ll have to do the hard way, then – starting with those tracks. Thank you for your co-operation, Mr Jaggard. I’d better be getting on with it.’
I went with him to the door. ‘One thing, Inspector; you never saw that card.’
He nodded abruptly and left.
Ashton and Penny came back more than two hours later. Penny looked as tired as she had the previous morning, but Ashton had recovered some of his colour and springiness. ‘Good of you to stay, Malcolm,’ he said. ‘Stay a little longer – I want to talk to you. Not now, but later.’ His voice was brusque and he spoke with authority; what he had issued was not a request but an order. He strode across the hall and went into the study. The door slammed behind him. I turned to Penny. ‘How’s Gillian?’
‘Not very good,’ she said sombrely. ‘It was strong acid, undiluted. Who would do such a barbarous thing?’
‘That’s what the police want to know.’ I told her something of my conversation with Honnister. ‘He thinks your father might know something about this. Does he have any enemies?’
‘Daddy!’ She frowned. ‘He’s very strong-minded and single-minded, and people like that don’t go through life without treading on a few toes. But I can’t think he’d make the kind of enemy who would throw acid into his daughter’s face.’
Somehow I couldn’t, either. God knows some funny things go on in the economic and industrial jungles, but they rarely include acts of gratuitous violence. I turned as Benson came out of the kitchen carrying a tray on which were a jug of water, an unopened bottle of whisky and two glasses. I watched him go into the study then said, ‘What about Gillian?’
Penny stared at me. ‘Gillian!’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re not suggesting Gillian could make that kind of enemy? It’s preposterous.’
It was certainly unlikely but not as impossible as Penny thought. Quiet homebodies have been known to lead exotic and secret lives, and I wondered if Gillian had done anything else on her shopping trips into Marlow besides buying the odd pound of tea. But I said tactfully, ‘Yes, it’s unlikely.’
As I helped Penny get together a scratch meal she said, ‘I tried to neutralize the acid with a soda solution, and in the ambulance they had better stuff than that. But she’s in the intensive care unit at the hospital.’
We had rather an uncomfortable meal, just the two of us because Ashton wouldn’t come out of the study, saying he wasn’t hungry. An hour later, when I was wondering if he’d forgotten I was there, Benson came into the room. ‘Mr Ashton would like to see you, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ I made my excuses to Penny and went into the study. Ashton was sitting behind a large desk but rose as I entered. I said, ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am that this awful thing should have happened.’
He nodded. ‘I know, Malcolm.’ His hand grasped the whisky bottle which I noted was now only half full. He glanced at the tray, and said, ‘Be a good chap and get yourself a clean glass.’
‘I’d rather not drink any more this evening. I still have to drive back to town.’
He put down the bottle gently and came from behind the desk. ‘Sit down,’ he said, and thus began one of the weirdest interviews of my life. He paused for a moment. ‘How are things with you and Penny?’
I looked at him consideringly. ‘Are you asking if my intentions are honourable?’
‘More or less. Have you slept with her yet?’
That was direct enough. ‘No.’ I grinned at him. ‘You brought her up too well.’