Sowerbutt's Revenge

“I want small groups of lads to go in and flush out some of the Reds. Smash up their pubs, do over the couple of shops run by Reds, grab any of the members or supporters and give them a hiding. You know the routine. Take shooters, but only use them if necessary. Fists and coshes should be enough," Sowerbutt said.
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Sowerbutt's Mail

“He won’t be there, Mr Sorbay, and that’s a fact. He’s a coward but there’ll be plenty of Reds, station hands,  and even Tube drivers. They’ll snatch you and that will be it,” Spaghetti said, a worried look on his face.

He had just read the hand-written note that arrived in the second post.
“Be at the clock on Platform 3 at Whitechapel Tube at 3 o’clock this afternoon. Come alone and unarmed. Your woman will be released.”
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Sowerbutt's Precautions

The old soldier fell silent, seeing the worried look on Sowerbutt’s face. “I need your help, Pop. The ring of match-sellers around the place is working well, a good flow of information about what’s going on. But some of the Stepney Reds have snuck into East India Dock Road and have been watching the business. I need your lads doing a regular stint close in to keep an eye on the place, dawn until late; a few coppers in their pockets for the street boys to run messages. Anybody of interest spotted and we’ll deal with it. I’ll look after your lads, of course.”

Pop nodded: “Of course, Mr Sorbay. They’ll be there first thing tomorrow. The lads love working for you.”
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Sowerbutt's Gift

Sowerbutt handed her a small packet. “Something for your wedding, Annie. Nylons, they call them. Only went on sale Stateside a few months ago. I’ve got one for Polly and one for your wedding.”

Turning to Pop, he said: “We’ll make a killing. Got them off a Yank sailor on one of the neutral boats. We’re going to establish a regular supply - well, as regular as you can these days. Sell them in the West End at four times the New York price.”
Annie was speechless, staring at the nylons, then she burst into tears and threw her arms around Sowerbutt and kissed his stubbly cheek. “Oh, Mr Sorbay, you are so kind to Pop and me. I shall be the happiest girl in the Smoke wearing these on my wedding day. I’ve read about them in the magazines."

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Sowerbutt's Puzzle

Rosetta pressed home her advantage. “You are growing slack, senor. I walk in and you didn’t see. We are in a back pool, back water, but you should not relax. Is that not so?”

Sowerbutt poured a couple of glasses of Old Bushmills. “You are working with dear John, no doubt. But indulge an old friend, how did you find us? John would not have said. Left hand, right hand, he’s never even introduced his hands to each other.”
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Sowerbutt's Vision

“Rosetta?” Sowerbutt cried in a strangled voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You recognise me despite the make-up, senor. I shed my clothes, but taking off the make-up is too much trouble.”
Sowerbutt grinned: “I’m pleased you shed your clothes, Rosetta, otherwise I wouldn’t have recognised you.”
“Tsk, tsk, senor. You talk about taking off my clothes, I recall you had a lady?”
Sowerbutt kept a straight face, he suddenly had a vision of Polly hurling phone books and shoes at him.
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Sowerbutt's Surprise

For once, Sowerbutt was speechless. A dowdy, middle-aged woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses was standing by the table inside the farmhouse. Before his hand could stretch inside his leather jacket for the Webley, his jaw dropped further. The woman pulled off her shapeless beret, threw it on the table and shook out her long raven-coloured hair. It couldn’t be, this woman was too old. She watched him as she threw off her padded raincoat, revealing a shapely figure. It was Rosetta.

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Sowerbutt's Duty

Churchill sat back in his armchair, puffing a cigar. “The Ghost made us look like fools once before, Brendan. Despite all the resources available to us, a petty criminal from the East End found him, not our much-vaunted security services. May I suggest that Mr Sorbay is brought in to help our nation once again.”

Bracken nodded. “I hoped to put Sorbay back into the shadows in case of any public difficulties. But you are right, Prime Minister. We have a dangerous killer to find.”
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Sowerbutt's Absence

Polly’s look was sub-zero. “It’s my business, Pop. My mother started it 25 years ago during the last lot. We’re not waiting for Sorbay, we could wait until kingdom come.”

She snapped out orders: “Pop, you and I are on the next fast train to the Smoke, I’ll pack a bag. Your match-sellers must be in place in East India Dock Road from first light. We’ll put the word out to some of the old Blackshirts, I need a dozen good men. Men I can trust with coshes, knives. We’ll have a few shooters on standby just in case.”
She turned to Dot: “We’ll be back in business by tomorrow night. If anybody gets in our way, so be it. I’ll leave it to Sorbay, in his own good time, to do whatever needs to be done with the Reds.”

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Sowerbutt's Visitor

Pop sipped the tea and munched one of the biscuits that Dot had put on the table. “Borrowed a motor-bike and got up here fast as I could. This place is nearer than chasing after Mr Sorbay. You’ve heard the news?”

Polly’s famous icy look spread across her face: “What is it, you’ve got me worried?”
“The maniac teacher, the Red, has barged his way into the business. He and a bunch of Reds threw out Madame Komarovski. Beat up Cocker and threw him out too. Told the girls, business as usual and he’d be pocketing the money if you please.”
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Sowerbutt's Justice

Polly smiled. “Now, jobs, Cocker. Clear up the crap in the kitchen when Sal’s finished beating him and tie him up outside somewhere. A sign round his neck saying ‘I’m a Rapist’. We’ll let our local families take care of him, then The River tonight.”

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Sowerbutt's Lady

In seconds, the burly ex-docker was kneeling naked on the kitchen floor. “Please miss, it was McGaskie. I just did as I was ordered, it was nothing to do with me. I hope I didn’t hurt the girl.”

Polly’s smile was sub-zero. “Sal, that stool needs breaking up for firewood, doesn’t it?”
Holding it with two hands, the slight girl smashed the kitchen stool over the naked docker’s head, then picked up a broken leg and jabbed the unconscious body amid grunts and groans.
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Sowerbutt's Nemesis

"It was no ordinary sniper, Sorbay, it was the Ghost. He laid several trails. Durruti, the Anarchist, would be killed at his home, his mistress’s brother was after him and so on. The Ghost also put out the story that the Nationalists were targeting Durruti in the fighting. And that’s where he died - a double bluff.”

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Sowerbutt's Secret

The slight military man said: “Yes, he did leave one clue, Anglo-American technology was the phrase. An area where we are ahead of the game, presumably. We think it may be aircraft engines where we are developing a version which will travel at very high speeds. This is top secret, Sorbay. You should be signing the Official Secrets Act, but I know it’s in your interests to keep quiet.”

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Sowerbutt's Lady

The icy smile that sent shivers up Sowerbutt’s spine spread across Polly’s face. “One last word, lads. You all know Sorbay and you all come recommended by WO. None of you have worked with me before, I am the hardest taskmaster. Do exactly as you are told and do it well and you’ll walk on the sunny side. Stuff up or disobey me and you can forget enjoying your girlfriend again. Are we clear?”

Cocker grinned as he remembered how the 10 hardened street fighters almost snapped to attention. To a man, they spat out: “Yes, Ma’am.”
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Sowerbutt's Ghost

“The Ghost was an elusive character in Spain. He was on my side and would slip into a Republican village or army barracks without a sound. When he flitted away, there’d be at least one body left behind. Dangerous man with a big body count," Sowerbutt said.

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Sowerbutt's Farm

Sowerbutt and Spaghetti were standing by the ancient Morris car they had hired for a pretty penny in Sheringham. Stretching into the distance away from the Kelling farmhouse were wheat fields ripe for harvesting with a few patches around the edges where the seed had not taken. A vegie garden in the home paddock was overgrown with weeds.

“Perfect for Tipper and his dog to recuperate. And we can bring up one of Cocker’s cousins to organise the late harvest. We need a base up here to keep an eye on things. We’ll get Gingernut to put in motion its requisition  - and put it in my name. Any luck we’ll keep it without paying a farthing,” Sowerbutt said, pulling his jacket collar up in the strong breeze.
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Sowerbutt's Despair

Sowerbutt and Spaghetti looked at each other. The grey flint farmhouse had neither mains power nor sewerage.  It had clearly been abandoned some weeks earlier with chickens nesting in the kitchen and several pigs taking up residence in the living room. Whoever had worked the farm had simply walked off, called up or in search of better-paid pastures in Norwich.

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Sowerbutt's Concern

Sowerbutt was worried about raising any suspicions. In the present war fever, encouraged by the authorities, people were reporting anybody who might be a German spy or sympathiser. In Luton, during the previous week, the wife of a councillor had been arrested over a cycling holiday in Germany in 1935. The magistrate was shown photographs of the then girl posing with uniformed members of the Hitler Youth. The case was dismissed.

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Sowerbutt's Thoughts

Sowerbutt handed Nero a Penguin bar. “It’s the bloke in charge that the Ghost is after. That small geezer in RAF uniform, a wing commander.”

Nero said: “I’ve seen him a few times. Bad-tempered bastard, always shouting at people.”

Sowerbutt nodded: “John’s plan is to put Missionary in as his civilian driver. Missionary’s charm should put a cap on the Pipsqueak’s bad temper – as long as he doesn’t try it on with the maid. Pipsqueak has rented a house on the other side of town for his family, but he spends most of his time here in the testing shed. Our job is to spot the Ghost, not protect the Pipsqueak.”

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Sowerbutt's Noise

Sowerbutt pulled Nero behind a brick wall, near the British Thomson-Houston testing shed in Lutterworth. The shriek from the shed had almost knocked the two men off their feet. “Hardly hear yourself think with that racket going on. How do people round here sleep?”

Nero grinned: “They call it the Silent Noise, Mr Sorbay. But that’s about all they’ll say. It’s very hush-hush and none of the locals will talk about it.”

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Sowerbutt's Offer

“Why don’t we go into business together, senor?" Rosetta smiled. "Lots of shortages and a big black market in London.”

Sowerbutt looked surprised: “And leave John, he wouldn’t be very happy. Room service in the Tower of London is not the best, I gather.”

Her eyes flashed: “I’m so bored, senor. Baby-sitting a spoilt rich boy who deserves a bullet, not an Iron Cross. My big excitement of the day is pedalling around a sleepy little village, where nothing has happened in a hundred years."
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