The Inscrutable Charlie Muffin by Brian Freemantle Read Free Book Online Page A

knew.
    ‘Scotland Yard,’ announced Johnson, as if producing a reference. ‘Fifteen years. Never an unsolved case.’
    ‘Just like this one?’
    Johnson put his head to one side, trying to detect the sarcasm.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Just like this one.’
    ‘I rather wondered if it might be possible for you and me to meet … at your convenience, obviously,’ said Charlie.
    ‘I’ve already made all the relevant material available to Mr Nelson,’ said the superintendent.
    ‘I know,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ve read your reports. You’ve really been most helpful. There are just one or two things that seem unusual …’
    ‘I’ve a busy diary …’
    ‘Of course,’ flattered Charlie. Pompous prick.
    ‘Lot of commitments …’
    ‘It wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes,’ persisted Charlie. ‘There’s a huge sum of money involved, after all.’
    ‘Talk to my secretary,’ Johnson capitulated. ‘We will see what we can do tomorrow.’
    ‘You’re very kind,’ said Charlie. Between what would he be fitted? he wondered. Golf and the yacht club lunch?
    An usher announced that the court was about to convene, interrupting them. There was a slow shuffle through the entrance, bottlenecked by two of Johnson’s officers scrutinising the entry tickets. Nelson and Charlie were allocated to the well of the tiny court, just to the left and below the dock. Charlie twisted as the men were arraigned, looking up at them. Why was it that criminals never had the stature expected of their crimes? The two accused Chinese entered the dock cowed and frightened, heads twitching like animals suspecting a trap about to close behind them. One wore just trousers and vest and the second had a jacket, grimed and shapeless from constant use, over a collarless shirt. The man’s trousers were supported by cord. Charlie recognised the opium habit from the yellowed, jaundiced look of their eyes. Their bodies vibrated with the denial imposed since their arrest.
    Charlie turned away, stopping at the sight of Johnson rigidly upright and towering above the other policemen at the far side of the dock. The sort of man, judged Charlie, who would stand up before he farted in the bath. Probably at attention. Johnson looked directly at him, his face blank.
    At the demand from the usher, the court stood for the entry of the magistrate. Immediately he was seated, the clerk announced that the accusation would be read first in English, then translated into Cantonese for the benefit of the accused.
    ‘The charge against you,’ began the official, looking first to the dock and then back to the charge sheet, ‘… is that on June 10 you did jointly commit an offence of arson, namely that you did secrete aboard a liner known as the Pride of America incendiary devices and that further you did, separately and together, ignite at various situations aboard the said liner quantities of inflammable material. Further, it is alleged that you interfered with the fire precaution systems upon the said liner in such a way that additional quantities of inflammable material were introduced into the flames …’
    He stopped, handing the sheet to the Chinese interpreter.
    The man began the accusation, but was almost immediately stopped by a noise which Charlie later realised must have been the sound of the first man falling. He turned at the scuffling movement, in time to see the warders move forward to try to prevent the second Chinese, in the crumpled jacket, from collapsing beneath the dock rail.
    There was a moment of complete, shocked silence broken only by the unseen sound from the dock of strained, almost screaming attempts to breathe, and then it was overwhelmed by the babble that erupted as reporters tried to get nearer the dock, to look in.
    Then there was another commotion, as Superintendent Johnson began bellowing at his policemen to restore order.
    A warder emerged from below the rail, and there was a second momentary lull in the noise.
    ‘Dead,’ he