Sowerbutt's Suggestion

“I’m probably on a wild goose chase, Mr Sorbay, but one of the bosses at New Scotland Yard has a theory,” Sergeant Le Clay, who worked for Special Branch, said. “About the Croydon robbery. Between you and me, they got away with a fortune ˗ more than £200,000, not that we’re letting on. He thinks it is an underground Blackshirt group, planning to use the money to finance a pro-Jerry coup. Says it was too clever and too big to be ordinary crims. His report has gone up the ladder to Commissioner Game and caused a panic.

“I’ve been landed with checking out the theory on the ground, I’m supposed to be an expert on Blackshirts. Load of tosh, I’d expect.”
Sowerbutt smiled:  “Nothing on the grapevine, sergeant. You’d hear something on the street if one of the London gangs was responsible or even one of the provincial gangs for that matter.”
“I was afraid you’d say that, Mr Sorbay. They got away as clean as a whistle, nobody saw or heard anything untoward.”
Sowerbutt sipped his whiskey. “What about the IRA, sergeant? They generally keep themselves to themselves and they need money for their bombs and guns.”
“Good point, Mr Sorbay. They’ve been busy here on the mainland and over in Ulster, as we all know.  I might have a word with the Garda, we’ve got good relationships with Dublin, go back a long way. More likely than our home-grown Fascists, I’d say.”
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