The Magna Carta Murders (The Ralph Chamers Mysteries Book 12) Page 8

  They pulled up in front of a set of tall black wrought iron gates. A large notice proclaimed Engineering Solutions – Europe.

  “Looks like this is it,” Katie said. “Any idea how long you’ll be?”

  “It’s just on three, now. Say, four o’clock? That should give me plenty of time to have a look at one of those containers.”

  “I think I’ll explore around while you’re in your meeting, Ralph. There’s an old airfield around here. It might be where that girl at the restaurant said her great-grandfather was back during the war. Maybe I can get a few photos, if there’s anything left of it. Oh, and there must be a saddlery shop in town; I noticed quite a few stables on our way over from the river,” said Katie.

  Ralph opened the car door and started towards the gates where he could see a speaker grill.

  “Didn’t you forget something?” Katie asked. He leant and gave her a kiss.

  “And no heroics mind you,” Katie reminded him. “You’ll need all of your strength for gripping the dashboard on the way home. Anyhow, I’ll be waiting here. If you finish early, give me a call on my mobile.”

  “I didn’t bring my phone,” Ralph said. “The battery’s not charging properly so I left it with the people at the mobile phone place so they could take a look at it.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll be here.”

  Katie reached up and gave him another peck on the cheek before she waved him off and got back behind the wheel. Ralph flinched as he heard the tires spin in the gravel. He could just imagine what those flying rocks were doing to the paint job.

  Ralph announced who he was and that he had an appointment with Mr Kirby into the intercom. There was a delay before a disembodied voice instructed him to press the red buzzer. The gates slowly swung open and he walked up a long driveway to an entrance where a security guard stood on duty.

  “Sign in please, sir; and clip this to your lapel, if you will.”

  Ralph thought it odd that a place that made metal boxes was so tight on security, but then it was the same everywhere. When he had first started teaching, someone had broken into his office and stolen his PC and a new sport’s bag. Since the University had tightened up on security, there had been no repeat break-ins. This place was no different than practically every facility in the country and he realised that he was probably just a bit paranoid because of the two murders and an attempt to blow up a boat that Katie had been on.

  A young woman led him to an industrial looking building and opened the door to the CEO’s office.

  “Professor Chalmers, please come in, I’m Alan Kirby,” said the tall spare man who stood up and grasped Ralph’s hand in a vice-like grip. “Before we start, as I tried to point out when we spoke, our business is fabricating metal. We don’t supply run-of-the-mill containers. I hope that you haven’t had a wasted journey.”

  Not the best way to charm a potential customer, Ralph thought. On the other hand if for some reason Kirby wanted to close the door it was a good approach.

  “I understand that Mr Kirby.”

  “Call me Alan. Everyone around here’s on a first name basis.”

  “Alan, my interest is in finding a company that can produce a number of containers for shipping and storing some documents and paintings that we’ve got at the University’s Dorich House Museum.”

  He explained how Jack Riley had mentioned that Engineering Solutions had designed and manufactured the ones used to transport the Magna Carta manuscripts to and from London. It got an immediate reaction.

  “I think you may have misunderstood, Professor Chalmers.”

  “Ralph is fine.”

  “Well, as I said, we only fabricate to someone else’s specifications. We’re not a design firm.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Alan, but Doctor Rhodes at Imperial College told me only a few days ago that with the Magna Carta containers your firm provided some of the internal mechanical parts as well as fabricating the final piece.” Ralph had interjected the ‘Alan’ to keep a modicum of control in an exchange that might finish up with Kirby giving him short shrift and having him escorted off the premises. He could see that he had touched a nerve.

  Just then a young woman walked in with a tray of tea.

  “Get out! Kirby shouted at her. “When I want something I’ll bloody tell you!” The girl just walked out. No doubt she was used to it, thought Ralph. What an oaf. He could see that Kirby was trying to control his temper.

  “Sorry, Alan it looks as though my lack of knowledge here is showing. I must have misunderstood Professor Rhodes. Maybe he meant that he’d specified some parts that you subcontracted out to another firm.”

  Kirby sat back. “Anyone could make a mistake like that, Ralph. My fault entirely. I just assumed that you knew that was how most engineering firms worked. I’ll get that stupid girl to bring us some tea.”

  “She seemed a bit upset just now. I hope she doesn’t put something in it,” said Ralph in an attempt to lighten things a bit. He still had the ‘big ask’ to make: he wanted to see one of the containers, and if tensions kept up as high as they had been a few minutes ago, that would be highly unlikely.

  “No worries,” Kirby replied. “Actually she’s not a bad kid, but she’s been here long enough to know not to interrupt me when I’m with a prospective client. Everyone here knows that my bark’s a lot worse than my bite.” he laughed uneasily.

  Ralph was not fooled. This man was an outright bully. One sign of weakness and he would pounce. I can just imagine what they call you behind your back, thought Ralph.

  The tea was duly served with Kirby reminding the girl that she should always check before barging into the office. To Ralph’s amazement, the girl actually thanked him and smiled. He needs to meet Katie, he mused. On a bad day she could knock anyone into shape, on a good day, this Kirby would be ‘dead meat’, as his students referred to someone who had got caught out and now must suffer the consequences.

  They chatted about trade, and how the defense industry had changed now that it focused more on software than metal fabrication. Ralph looked at his watch: 30 minutes gone. It was time for the big question.

  “Alan, I don’t suppose it’d be possible for me to take a look at one of those containers you made for the British Library?”

  “Not possible,” he gasped as he almost spilled his tea. “Once we send something off to the customer, that’s it. They were a one off; sorry.”

  “Perhaps you have a prototype or a mock up I could look at?”

  Kirby was now standing up. He was around six feet and a fit well muscled 210 pounds. Not a man to argue with, thought Ralph, who was no lightweight himself.

  “I think that about wraps it up, Professor,” Kirby said as he stood up and started to walk around to Ralph’s side of the desk. His tone was now much more formal. “Sorry that we couldn’t be more helpful, but you have our contact details if we can be of service in the future. Shall I call you a taxi, or do you have a car?”

  “My car’s just outside your gate,” Ralph said as he got up.

  Kirby was obviously relieved that the meeting was over.

  “You could have driven in through. We’ve plenty of spaces for visitors. I’ll ask Mary to show you out. Have a safe drive back to Surbiton.”

  They shook hands and Kirby closed the door behind him. While he waited outside the office for Mary to show him out, he heard Kirby on the telephone, and he sounded extremely agitated.

  As he followed the young woman along the corridor, she asked him if he had far to go as the traffic around Maidstone got busy soon. That was odd, he thought. He was certain that Kirby had said Surbiton. How would he know that unless he had checked into Ralph’s background. Ralph was almost certain that he had not mentioned it.

  He thanked Mary and handed in his ID badge. The guard told him to press the green button on the wall and the gate would open.

  As he walked down the graveled driveway he saw a notice on the building at the side that said ‘Experimental Division’
. He glanced through the window. There on a workbench he saw a container that appeared to be identical to the one that he had seen on the drawings in the brochure that Jack Riley had shown him at Slough. ‘So the bugger was lying’, he muttered. He glanced around before he tried the handle. The door opened and he flinched as it squeaked. Once inside, he moved swiftly to the workbench. Next to the container he spied an invoice or receipt of some sort with a South London address and the name of a company on it. He made a note on a scrap of paper that was on the bench and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he looked at the container. It was obviously a prototype, as the outer case was unfinished. He flipped the catch. He could see that the locking mechanism with the code keys that he had seen in the brochure was not fitted. Inside there were two trays, one above the other: each one could hold a display case the size of the ones they had used to house the Magna Carta. ‘So that’s how they did it’, he muttered as he thought it through.

  Step 1 - A case identical to the one that the genuine manuscript was housed in but containing a fake manuscript would have been placed in one of the trays by someone, perhaps even Kirby himself.

  Step 2 - When the courier opened the container at Salisbury Cathedral, only the empty tray was exposed.

  Step 3 -The genuine manuscript, in its case, was placed in the empty tray and the container was closed.

  Step 4 - When the container was reopened at the exhibition venue, the tray that was exposed held the genuine manuscript and could be studied by the experts and the public. The fake, in an identical case in the concealed tray stayed hidden in the container.

  Step 5 - Once the exhibition was over, the courier placed the genuine manuscript, still in its case, back in the container. Then, the courier, or someone else, somehow triggered an internal mechanism that caused the two trays and their contents to change places and effectively swap the documents.

  Step 6 - Once back at Salisbury the container was opened exposing the case containing the fake manuscript. This would then be put on display.

  Step 7 -When the container was returned to the British Library an accomplice removed the case containing the genuine manuscript and passed it on to whoever was behind it all.

  Damned clever; and the poor buggers who did the dirty work are now both dead, he mused just as the sky fell in. Ralph never stood a chance. He woke up with a splitting headache. It was dusk. ‘Whoever hit me was obviously working on instructions from the mastermind behind all of this’, he muttered. Then he froze as he heard a voice.

  “Ralph, what on earth’s going on? I waited for ages for you. Then when I tried to call through on the intercom to find out what’d held you up so long, no one answered the bloody buzzer.”

  “Can you open the door?” he rasped.

  “I’ve got a crowbar I found in the boot with the wheel-jack. Just in case,” she said.

  “What on earth for?” He asked, but she did not reply.

  “Wait I can bust this lock,” he heard her say more to herself than to him.

  Then he heard a crack as the wood on the door-jam broke.

  “You’re covered in blood, Ralph. What happened?”

  “Never mind about that. But where is everyone?”

  “They all left at six. I watched them streaming out. There’s an old security bloke somewhere around here that I saw earlier, but he disappeared into that office. I expect he’s fast asleep or watching TV or something. Is that the damn box you were going on about? Looks like a Heath Robinson job to me.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Let’s just get out of here,” Ralph said as he grabbed the prototype container and they headed for the gate where they pressed the green button.

  “How’d you get in, anyhow?” Ralph asked.”

  “I climbed over that wall. By the way, you owe me a new pair of sandals; I broke the stupid strap on mine and they’re practically brand new.”

  “You don’t usually wear them.”

  “Just be quiet, Ralph. I’m driving you to the nearest hospital to get some stitches in that head. Some of those cuts look pretty deep. Here, put my sweater on the back of the seat; I don’t want blood all over the car,” she said as she reached around and retrieved her jumper from the back seat.

  Practical but kind, he thought as Katie headed for the town. He had to admit that he did feel a bit rough as he clung on to the panic bar as Katie swung the car through the country lanes. He looked across at the container which he had thrown onto the back seat. That thing has caused a lot of grief, he thought. Someone, hopefully Mr bloody Mankovich is going to pay for all of this. He glanced across at Katie as she turned into casualty at Maidstone hospital; she was quite a girl.

  “Better put the hood up Katie. I don’t want someone stealing that container.”

  “Stop fussing, Ralph. You just get that head of yours seen to; I’ll take care of this and meet you inside.”

  ***

  Ralph had plenty of time to think as he had been given strict orders at the hospital to have complete rest for at least a week. Granger had not been best pleased when Ralph phoned in and said that he had picked up a stomach bug and would not be in. He had talked things over with Katie and she agreed with him that it was best to tell no one about Kirby and the prototype container until he had spoken to Colonel Stigart. A short phone call and the Colonel said he would come to Ralph’s apartment the next day.

  When Stigart arrived, he made the usual sympathetic remarks and then Ralph explained what had happened.

  “You were wise in not calling the police or getting Commander Renton involved,” said Stigart, “at least not yet. And having Kirby arrested at this stage wouldn’t help, especially as you have no witnesses and he could turn around and claim that you’d broken into one of his buildings and stolen his property, - ,” he hesitated. “Well, you can see what I mean.”

  “Quite,” said Ralph. “But what about the fake manuscript? If I’m right, then the one on exhibit at Salisbury is a fake. And worse, Mankovich must have the original.”

  “You said that your friend Professor Rhodes at Imperial was involved in the design. Is it possible that Mankovich got him to design this mechanism that you say could move the trays? Was he in any sort of financial difficulties that you know of?”

  Ralph knew that Bob would need money, what with all the divorce costs and setting himself up with a new life in Germany. But he had known Bob for years, and Ralph knew that he would never risk getting mixed up with someone like Mankovich.

  “No. There’s no way Bob Rhodes would do that sort of thing,” Ralph said.

  “I hear what you say, but people do odd things when they are under pressure. We’ll have to have him checked out, of course.” Stigart refilled his cup and walked across to the window.

  “Do you think I’m wrong about the Salisbury manuscript being a fake?” Asked Ralph as he could see that something was puzzling the Colonel.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll get our technical people to take a look at that container. But even if Mankovich had a good plan and a chain of accomplices, I still don’t believe he pulled off the switch. If he had, why bother with that botched job at Runnymede if he already had the Salisbury Magna Carta? Why not simply use the manuscript for leverage with the case against his colleagues in America? At the very least he would’ve used it to ransom money from the British Government. I think it’d be premature to alert the authorities at this time.” There was a silence as both men thought about the consequences of a national scandal or uproar, especially if it turned out to be a false alarm.

  “So you want me to back off,” Ralph asked.

  “No, but I do think you should keep a low profile. You said that this Kirby chap knows where you live. I’ve no doubt that he and Mankovich are in cahoots. Not to put too fine a point on it, Ralph, Mankovich would be happy to see you out of the picture.”

  “So what are you suggesting I do? Just wait around for someone to put a bullet in my head while I’m sitting in my den listening to Mozart?”

  “We al
ready have two men assigned to make sure that you’re safe.”

  Ralph sat back. The plan did not appeal to him in the slightest. He always felt more secure when he had control over things.

  The Colonel told Ralph to enjoy his enforced convalescence and that he would keep in touch.

  ***

  Ralph tried to get on with a paper that he was writing for a Conference in Edinburgh in October, but he was finding it hard to concentrate. Once or twice he looked out of the window to see if Stigart’s men were lurking about. He jumped when the phone rang.

  “How’s it going Ralph? I popped in to see you and Janice told me that you were off with a touch of Delhi Belly.”

  “Hi, Peter. No, just something that I ate the other day. I’ll be back by the end of the week.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that, old chum. We’re off to Salisbury day after tomorrow. Get some of that Kaolin and Morphine mixture that Lance took when he got that stomach bug in Gibraltar. You’ll be right as rain in a couple of hours.”

  Ralph had completely forgotten about the concert at Salisbury Cathedral.

  “How are you and Marcia going?”

  “Marcia can’t make it. She’s on that Rome assignments. La Dolce Vita and all that. Anyhow, I’m going down with the London Philharmonic. It’s a bit of a crowd, but I know most of them, so it’ll be a bit of a busman’s holiday.”

  “We’ll take the Jag. We can give you a lift back, if you like.”

  “I might just take you up on it,” Peter replied.

  Peter chatted on about the concert and reminded Ralph that they were all booked in to The Milford Hall hotel. Ralph promised to get a bottle of Lance’s magic mixture from the chemist and told his pal that he would see him at Salisbury.

  After they hung up, Ralph must have dozed off. When the phone rang again, it woke him up. It was Brendan Ogilvy from the British Library.

  “Sorry to call you at home, Professor Chalmers, but I remembered our conversation about authenticating manuscripts and thought this might interest you.”

  “Yes?” Ralph asked, completely wide awake, now.