9. Council of War

Montpelier,France – what a relief! Back to civilisation after all those bears. Daddy lecturing at one of the universities on botany – his orchids –mimosas in blossom, glorious. Un grand câlin pour mon petit, Mama.

(4g6t12dgp Rabat)

Dunstable Downes spent most of the following morning at the library reading all the old press reports of the Canes fiasco.

He learnt that the brothers’ sister Mimi had married a man named Parks – an up and coming midland metal basher and entrepreneur. She had given birth to twins, the notorious black country wide boys Hilton and Hopwood. Their solicitor, the one who had written such a nasty letter to the Duchess, was none other than their cousin Norton Canes, son of Milton who had disappeared presumed shredded. The family business had risen from the ashes somehow a few years after the war ended, but under the new name of Parks, Canes having become toxic as a result of the scandal.

DD attempted to discern a picture, a pattern, an explanation that linked all the discovered fragments of the plot but he was frustrated. The lawyer Canes’ testy rejection of the Duchess’s request; Baldock’s wobble at the mention of the Camino Real; the Canes – Parks family history; Lee Delamere’s melted mush – he just could not make sense of it. But two days later it all came into sharp focus with the arrival, in the afternoon post, of a parcel from Foggy.

DD was testing his imaginations and speculations on Toddington, always and excellent foil, in the kitchen at Cahuenga fuelled by strong coffee and Mimm’s country slices when the parcel was dropped on the table by Miss Strensham.

“I hope there’s nothing alive in there,” she quipped with a smile as she swept out of the room, recalling the time DD had bought two milk snakes for pets by mail-order.

The cardboard tube was about three feet long and three inches in diameter and quite still. A note from Foggy dropped out of it.

“Touched and old friend in Antiquities who came up with the enclosed. Hope useful. F.”

They carefully withdrew from the tube a rolled up document, brown and brittle. It was a hand-drawn map of the UK showing a spidery network of lines and junctions. In the bottom left hand corner in flowery manuscript was the legend “The Camino Real”. From the scribbled notes around the edges it was apparent that this was not an original but a carefully made copy – though from its condition it was itself clearly quite old.

DD spread the map out on the table as he and Toddington pored over it intently. They quickly identified the Duchess’s commandeered and contested strawberry patch at one of the junctions on the network. Then DD spotted to the west, another node just below the mouth of the River Avon, where the docks are now located. And as the ball bearing dropped into the socket, the light went on.

He grabbed the folder from Frankley which was on the sideboard where he had left it. As he excitedly flipped through the papers calling out the locations at which lorries had been hi-jacked, disappeared and reappeared, Toddington placed a finger on the map, each location within spitting distance of one of the hubs.

“They’re using the Camino Real,” DD mused, almost disbelievingly.

Always the practical one, Toddington questioned “But what possible interest could the MOT or DICS have in a criminal enterprise. Surely they can’t be involved? But that chump at the MOT ... “

“Baldock.” DD interjected, “he definitely knew something. His reaction was a dead giveaway – he’s involved in this thing somehow. But it would be an unusual and complicated conspiracy if people from three different organisations were involved.”

“Maybe it’s just a few corrupt officials being paid to turn a blind eye by the Parks?”

“We’re just speculating now Toddington. But we have more than enough to go back to Frankley with ... and the Duchess. We need a council of war.”

ooooo

Two days later they met at the Duchess of Membury’s home. DD and Toddington arrived in time for dinner. Frankley was to join them later, being detained by a late running case at Chippenham Assizes. Toddington produced two bottles of the amber nectar from the latest batch to appear in the porch. He and Clackett – who could now be found frequently sharing a noggin in the coach house at the end of the day - had started referring to it as the Tears of St Patrick. He hoped it might expand their outlook as they deliberated on their plan of action.

They dined on pork belly – Marquis of Membury, first bred and registered by the late Duke’s grandfather in the 1830’s – braised on a bed of fennel and root vegetables, all from the estate’s kitchen garden. Just for Toddington the Duchess had asked her chef, Gordano, to make apple pie and custard, his favourite. Gordano was an old friend whom she and her husband had found working in a hotel when they were on tour in the Bay of Naples. They had helped him and his family escape the Camorra after a rival chef spiked a timballo he had prepared for the don. By the time they were enjoying coffee and petit fours in the Duchess’s withdrawing room, Jimmy Frankley had joined them and was demolishing a pork and apple sauce sandwich furnished by Gordano from the left overs. The conversation veered towards the main thing.

DD brought the company up to speed with his and Toddington’s findings and deliberations. For Frankley’s benefit he described the Duchess’s little problem. He told them of his visit to the MOT; of Baldock’s momentary reaction to his question; of his father’s postcard and their visit to Foggy. He relayed the history of the Camino Real as he laid out the map and demonstrated the correlation of the nodes and hubs with the locations of the stolen lorries. 

Frankley’s concentration and expression intensified.

Then he produced a plan he had obtained only that day from the government’s stationery office. This had been published originally as part of a public consultation and showed the national road network which was already under construction, for which the Parks were one of the main contractors and for which reason they were unwilling or unable to countenance the return of even a small tranche of the Duchess’s land. Its correspondence with the Camino Real was immediately apparent as the maps lay side by side. 

DD explained his puzzlement that the hubs in the Camino were not, as one might have imagined, in sync with the junctions of the road network. In fact, in most cases they were actually some distance along the roads from the major junctions.

“But what are these markings on the plan where the nodes are? There’s one here.” asked Frankley, placing a finger on the point on the plan close to where they were now sitting.

“Well, they just seem to be areas designated for development as rest areas, you know, toilets, a cafe, maybe petrol pumps. It’s in the notes that came with the plan.”

Frankley had no problem believing the Parks were behind the hijackings and utilising their position as MOT contractors to spirit away the trucks. They had been high on his list of suspects. It was typical of their MO, running a profitable legitimate business in parallel with more nefarious activities. But he found it hard to imagine DICS and the MOT getting involved with people like the Parks. But if they were innocent dupes this would not explain Baldock’s wobble.

DD, “Forget about the crime for a moment. What if the Parks, along with their cousin, have revived the research into the Camino Real at the point where their uncles/father diverted into defrauding the government? Remember Foggy never questioned that the Camino worked, he explained the science – I think – he said the Caneses just didn’t succeed in reliably controlling the entry and exit points.”

Frankley, “and typically, they are using their position as MOT contractors to gain access to the whole of the network ...”

Toddington, “... and surely DICS and or the MOT would have a civil defence interest in a secret internal transport system ...”

DD,”... especially one that mirrored a conventional network of major routes.”

The Duchess, a little tearful, “I don’t know what you boys are waiting for. I think you need to go down there and take a look. You won’t learn anything sitting here drinking cider and eating sweets – much as I enjoy your company.

Whatever it is the Parks are up to, I can understand them not wanting me near the place. But ultimately the land is still in the possession of the government and I still can’t see why they would not return an unused corner of the property to me. Perhaps if you can prove these criminals are abusing their position we can bring pressure to bear and I can grow my strawberries once more.”

Frankley, “I guess now would be a good time to go down there – after dark, when it’s all quiet.”

The Duchess coughed and smiled, “Oh dear, you are hopeful Inspector Frankley. They’re often busy day and night down there. I can see the lights from my bedroom window at night – and sometimes I can hear them too, heavy machinery, but thankfully not that often.”

DD, “We’ll just have to be careful then ...”

Toddington, business like and rubbing his hands together, “ ... a little sortie into no man’s land. I’ve got the toolkit in the boot.” He winked at DD who knew exactly the pieces of kit to which he referred and hoped he would not be indiscreet with Frankley around.

DD assuredly, and looking straight at Frankley, “That settles in then. Let’s take a look.”