DEADLY
LOOT

Pat Barnett

The Inspector eyed the wizened private detective with a look of disbelief.

He’s pulling a fast one, thought Bob Richmond.
But the old sleuth merely gave him one of his customary sneers and, returning his stare, he whispered, “I wish this was a joke, Bob, but it isn’t — it’s deadly.”

“All the more reason to phone the Home Office?” urged Richmond. “We need to get specialists combing the streets, looking for these guys.”

“Can’t. So far, no bank has reported a break-in.”

“No bank?”

“My information is that during the last six months, several of the international banks have been broken into, but, they insist, nothing has been stolen.”

“Look old mate, I know your informants are sacred to you, but if what you say is true, then confidentiality has to go through the window.”

“Bob, when I feel I must share their names, I will, I promise — but until then, please allow me to do this my way.”

“Then why bring me into it? Why tell me about this deadly piece of loot?”

“Treasure, Bob. Let us refer to it as treasure.”

The waiter came to the table. “Ah Kenny, how’s the world with you nowadays?”
“Very well thank you, sir. And you? And you, sir — I believe congratulations are in order, soon to be wedded, eh?”

Kenny cleared the table of empty glasses, gave it a wipe, and took their order before heading off to serve another table.

“How did he know that?”

“Can’t keep owt quiet nowadays. You should know that, Bob — what with that nosy concierge who mans the desk at your fancy block of flats.”

“They’re apartments, Chas. And yeh, I’ll give it to you, he is a nosy sod. Bet all of bloody Yorkshire knows my business.”

“No, only the locals and Scarborough’s police force.”

“Hell. Why Scarborough’s?”

“Said it not to make you paranoid. York and Bridlington know some girl had snared D.I. Richmond.”

The waiter placed a whisky in front of Chas, and a pint of bitter for Bob. They waited for him to return to the bar before getting back down to business.

Chas poured a drop of soda into his drink, gave it a sip and sighed.

Bob Richmond took a long swallow of the amber ale, and as he placed it back on the beermat, he also gave a sigh.

“Okay,” Bob leaned towards Chas’s ear, “correct me if I’m wrong, but this treasure has the capacity to give symptoms of a nuclear war. So, am I to look for bank tellers whose teeth have slid out of their gums, or have sudden hair loss or other kinds of reactive sickness?”

Chas shook his head. “Whilst the loot was deposited — it was contained within a lead-lined box.”

“So I’m looking for someone with the muscles of Hercules. How big is this thing? Come on Chas, you’ve got to open up. This should be dealt with properly, by the Home Office.”

“It is, Bob. But they want to keep it quiet — to avoid panic. If you must know, this thing has to be a covert operation.”

“I’m no longer in the army — why don’t they use the SAS?”

“Because they don’t want to attract attention. I’m waiting for copies of the treasure to be sent to my office. I’ve to treat this like a simple theft, contacting all the fences I know who deal with this sort of treasure.”

“Oh, I see — I think. Did these clients of yours ask you to put me in the picture? Did they say why they want me on this case? Have I to spy on the friends I’ve made in the nightclub industry? Honestly Chas, they’re no angels, but none of them would be remotely interested in toxic treasure.”

“Some would.”

“Who?”

“The owners of Romanoff’s — the new nightclub near the pier.”

“They’re Russian, and I don’t know them personally.”

“Then you must make it your business. The owner lost his entire family when Chernobyl blew.”

“Ahh — now you tell me. This treasure is contaminated from there.”

“Most of it, from a church where our friend was raised. He was just a child when the explosion happened. But he saw who raided the church and the temporary place where they stashed it. He’s made it his life’s work to revenge those that caused the slow death of his whole family.”

Richmond took a long swallow of his beer, wiped the foam with his thumb and, deep in thought, licked it clean.

“Why wait for revenge until now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him.”

“Well I never thought I’d hear the great sleuth of the North admit to not knowing anything.”

“Don’t laugh, Bob. They’re relatively new to England — new to Europe I think. I gleaned the bit of knowledge about him from my office cleaner.”

“Ah — what would we do without cleaner’s gossip. You’ve made my day, Chas. I’m owed a month’s leave so, when do I start?”

“I’ll have the photographs sent to your apartment. I don’t want anyone else to see them.”

“That’s fine, but don’t give them to the concierge — he reads everyone’s mail.”

“I won’t. I will ask your beloved lady friend to deliver them.”

“Playing with fire there, Chas. Michelle doesn’t get involved with my kind of business — so leave her out of it.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t, but she will jump at the chance of a scoop when it’s all over.”

“I don’t want her in any danger.”

“She won’t be. She offered to help in exchange for the story.”

Richmond drained his glass. “Want a top-up?”

“Why not — and whilst we are working out of our normal sphere, don’t pay Kenny. I’ve opened a special client account behind the bar, so make mine a double.”