of
that. If Iâd really been from the HSE, the lack of courtesy would have had me sharpening my knives for Trevor Kerrâs well-cushioned ribs. I waited for the secretary to withdraw, then I said, âHave you recalled the rest of the batch?â
He nodded impatiently. âOf course. We got on to all the wholesalers, and weâve placed an ad in the national press as well as the trade. Weâve already had a load of stuff back, and thereâs more due in today.â
âGood,â I said. âIâll want to see that, as well as the dispatch paperwork relating to that batch. I take it that wonât be a problem?â
âNo problem. Iâll get Sheila to sort it out for you.â He made a note on a pad on his desk. âNext?â
âDo you use cyanide in any of your processes?â
âNo way,â he said belligerently. âIt has industrial uses, but mainly in the plastics industry and electroplating. Thereâs nothing we produce that weâd need it for.â
âOK. Going back to the original blackmail note. Did it include any instructions about the amount of money they were after, or how you were to contact them?â
He took a cigar out of a humidor the size of a small greenhouse and rolled it between his fingers. âThey didnât put a figure on it, no. There was a phone number, and the note said it was the number of one of the public phones at Piccadilly Station. I was supposed to be there at nine oâclock on the Friday night. I didnât go, of course.â
âPity you didnât call us then,â I said.
âI told you, I thought it was a crank. Some nutter trying to wind me up. No way was I going to give him the satisfaction.â
âOr her,â I added. âThe thing that bothers me, Mr. Kerr, is that killing people is a pretty extreme thing for a blackmailer to do. The usual analysis of blackmailers is that they are on the cowardly side. The crimes they commit are at armâs-length, and usually donât put life at risk. I would have expected the blackmailer in this case to have done something a lot more low key, certainly initially. You know, dumped caustic soda in washing-up liquid, that sort of thing.â
âMaybe they didnât intend to kill anybody, just to give people a
nasty turn,â he said. He lit the cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke that gave me a nasty turn so early in the day.
I shrugged. âIn that case, cyanideâs a strange choice. The fatal dose is pretty small. Also, you couldnât just stick it in the drum and wait for someone to open it up. There must have been some kind of device rigged up inside it. To produce the lethal gas, cyanide pellets need to react with something else. So theyâd have had to be released into the liquid somehow. Thatâs a lot of trouble to go to when you could achieve an unpleasant warning with dozens of other chemical mixtures. If it was me, Iâd have filled a few drums either with something that smelled disgusting, or something that would destroy surfaces rather than clean them, just to persuade you that they were capable of making your life hell. Then, Iâd have followed it up with a second note saying something like: âNext time, itâll be cyanide.â â
âSo maybe weâre dealing with a complete nutter,â he said bitterly. âGreat.â
âOr maybe itâs someone who wants to destroy you rather than blackmail you,â I said simply.
Kerr took his cigar out of his mouth, which remained in a perfect âO.â Finally, he said, âYouâve got to be kidding.â
âItâs something you should consider. In relation to both your professional and your personal life.â He was having a lot of trouble getting his head round the idea, I could see. If heâd been a bit nicer to me, Iâd have been gentler. But I figure you shouldnât dish it out unless you can take
M. R. James, Darryl Jones