Perseverance Street (34 page)

Pinkney gave this some thought, then looked down at his unconscious son. ‘Is he all right?’

‘For the
time being, Mr Pinkney. If I don’t get what I want from you I’ll kill you both and bury you on your farm. From what I hear not too many people will come looking for you. But before then I’ll do my best to persuade you to do the right thing.’ He reached down and grabbed one of Pinkney’s hands, gripping his middle finger and pulling it back.

‘ALL RIGHT!’ roared Pinkney. He had tears of pain streaming down his face, mingling with the blood dripping from his ear. ‘Leave me alone. What d’yer want ter know?’

‘Good,’ said Charlie. ‘We’re beginning to understand each other.’

He said nothing more for a while. He allowed the room to fall into a silence, broken only by Pinkney’s moaning and his son’s noisy breathing. He looked at Lily. ‘Could you lock the door then go to the window and check we’re not having any visitors?’ He then returned his attention to Pinkney.

‘Right, Mr Pinkney. It’s time for you to try and save your miserable hide and that of your boy. I want you to tell me everything you know about Mancini. And I mean everything, from the beginning. From how you first met him. And if I think you’re lying I’ll start breaking fingers again.’

‘I met him when he came ter work here,’ Pinkney began.

‘He was an officer,’ screamed Charlie. ‘Officers weren’t forced to work.’

‘He only came here now and again at first,’ said Pinkney quickly, hiding his hands behind his back to keep his fingers away from this madman. ‘He told t’ camp guards he liked t’ exercise. He knew about me from an organisation called Fascists Abroad.’

Charlie switched off his unbalanced rage. ‘
Fascisti all’Estero
,’ he said, in a perfect Italian accent. And you’re a member of the BUF.’

‘
Was
a
member,’ groaned Pinkney, holding his broken hand to his damaged ear. Had he not been so vile to her earlier Lily would have felt sorry for him. ‘They got banned back in ’40.’

‘When the Italians were moved from Eden camp,’ said Charlie, ‘he destroyed his camp records and came to stay with you.’

Pinkney gave a painful nod.

‘And you told everyone he was a Greek refugee and nobody questioned it, not even the police?’

Pinkney managed a laugh. ‘Mancini had money being sent to him. He gave t’ coppers back-handers ter keep quiet. With t’ war in Italy bein’ over they thought nowt of it.’

‘How did he get hold of the money?’

‘I picked it up fer him. It were sent over to a London bank belongin’ ter some business man or other, never knew his name.’

‘Another BUF man?’

Pinknet grimaced and moaned in pain before answering. ‘Prob’ly, aye. There’s still a lot about yer know. Mancini married into a wealthy family. They had money in Swiss banks what they transferred over here. I used ter go ter London ter pick it up, as and when it were needed. I gave it ter Mancini. It made his life a damn sight sweeter in that camp.’

‘I bet it made your life a bit sweeter, too.’

‘He gave me a few quid fer me trouble, yeah.’

‘One day last April you were sent to pick up two thousand pounds. Did you know what this was for?’

‘Last April? Aye. No
idea what it were for, not at first. It were a rush job. Randle rang up early one mornin’ askin’ ter speak to Mancini. After he put t’ phone down Mancini asked me ter get mesen down ter London that same day and bring a parcel back that night. I’ve no idea what were in it. I thought it might be money.’

‘Would that have been back in April?’ asked Lily.

Pinkney looked up at her, ‘Back end of April – aye.’

Charlie looked at Lily. ‘My guess is it’ll have been the same day as Randle and his wife came to see you. They’ll have been banking on getting Michael from you that day and they’ll have told Mancini to have the money ready when they dropped the boy off. He must have held on to Michael overnight to give Mancini time to get the money together.’ He turned back to Pinkney who was alternately nursing his broken thumb and tenderly fingering his damaged ear to check the extent of the damage.

‘Go on,’ Charlie ordered.

‘Well, it were well past midnight when I got back here. My lad had ter pick me up from York station. Randle turned up early that same mornin’. That’s when Mancini told me he’d decided to leave.’

‘Did Randle have a small boy in the car?’ Charlie asked.

Lily was now listening intently for the first definite confirmation that her son was alive.

Pinkney clammed shut,
believing he’d now said too much. Charlie reached round Pinkey’s back and took hold of his middle finger once again. ‘I’ll count to three,’ he said, coldly, bending the finger back to breaking point.

‘One, two, thr—’

‘All right! I saw a kid in the car.’

Lily suddenly burst into tears. Her boy was alive. Pinkney continued: ‘Only fer a few minutes. He were in the back o’ Randle’s car, fast asleep. I asked Mancini who he was. He told me he were an orphan who were goin’ to a better life. That’s all I know about him.’

Lily screamed at him. ‘He’s my son. Randle stole him from me and you helped – you vile bastard!’

‘What do you think the police will make of all this?’ said Charlie. ‘How long do you think you’ll get? My guess is twenty years fer you and ten for the lad if he’s helped you harbour Mancini, which is not punishment enough – but I know what is punishment enough!’ With a deranged grin he took his gun out and stuck it in Pinkney’s face.

‘Charlie, don’t!’ shouted Lily, genuinely alarmed.

Her concern convinced Pinkney that Charlie wasn’t bluffing. If she thought this madman was about to pull the trigger maybe he was in more trouble than he thought. ‘Jesus!’ He shouted, holding out his arms in supplication. ‘Please, don’t shoot me. I’ve told yer everythin’ I know.’

‘No you haven’t,’ said Charlie, lowering the gun, his voice icy with feigned madness. ‘You haven’t told us where he is now.’

Pinkney hung his head in relief. ‘To be honest, I think he could be back in Italy. I heard Randle and Mancini talking about going to London to meet the London connection.’

‘And the
London connection somehow smuggled them over to Italy?’ said Charlie. ‘How the hell would that work?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Pinkney miserably. ‘I know money makes most things work in this world and Mancini had stacks of that. My guess is that Mancini stayed in London until the war was finally over and his contacts somehow bought him and the boy a passage to Venice.’

‘Venice?’ said Lily. ‘Oh my God! Is that where my boy is?’

Pinkney looked at her and shrugged. ‘All I know is that’s where Mancini lived.’

‘I want his address, you fat, slimy bastard!’ said Charlie, holding the gun to Pinkney’s head once more. He sounded frighteningly unbalanced once again. Pinkney looked beseechingly at Lily. ‘Call him off, will yer, luv?’

‘Just give us Mancini’s address in Venice,’ she said, pretending to be a bit unbalanced herself now. She was about to learn exactly where her boy was.

Pinkney inclined his head towards a distressed-looking chest of drawers. ‘There’s an envelope with his address on it in t’ top drawer over there. He were gonna post it, but he never got round to it. I think he took t’ letter with him.’

Lily went over to the drawer, inside which was a jumble of items. She found the envelope with an Italian address and handed it to Charlie. The envelope was empty. He read the address. ‘Palazzo Cominelli. Sestiere di Dorsoduro. Four-oh-eight-one. Venezia, Italia.’

‘Do you know Venice?’ Lily asked.

‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘I never got over there, but it was still under German occupation until April this year.’

‘It was
April when Michael was taken.’

‘I know,’ said Charlie, looking down at the men on the floor. Ezra was stirring, Bert was moaning.

He stuffed the envelope in his pocket. ‘OK, gentlemen. We won’t mention this discussion to the police if you don’t. If I need any more information from you I’ll be back and I trust you’ll be more hospitable.’ He looked at Lily. ‘They didn’t even offer us a cup of tea.’

Charlie gave Pinkney a wide-eyed manic stare. ‘Mr Pinkney. You probably think I’m an unreasonable man but if you try to get word of our visit to Mr Mancini or to the police I will know and I will come back here and show you just how unreasonable I can be. Do I make myself clear?’ His voice rose to frenzied proportions towards the end of this. Once again Lily was glad he’d warned her about his act, which was very impressive.

‘I should take him seriously,’ she said to Pinkney. ‘You’ve caught him in a good mood today. He can go a bit too far when he’s crossed.’ She looked at the dog, still asleep under the table. ‘Good guard dog you’ve got, by the way.’

Pinkney closed his eyes to shut out the pain in his ear and fingers. Ezra’s eyes were open and he was feeling the pain from his broken nose and broken teeth once again.

Lily breathed out a long sigh as they drove out of the farmyard. ‘Whew! That was something of an experience, Charlie.’

‘You think I went over the top, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know. You
were a bit scary. I suppose I wondered if it might have been possible to use less violence.’

‘Oh, it’s definitely possible, given time. By time I mean days, sometimes weeks. I didn’t have that luxury. I had to convince the Pinkneys that I was prepared to kill them, if need be. I also had to inflict fear and unbearable pain to get Bert to talk quickly and truthfully. I didn’t inflict too much lasting damage, apart from his ear – and that was only cosmetic. Broken fingers and noses heal fairly quickly. I knew it’d look scary, which is why I warned you.’

‘When we first went in there, why did you let them bully us? Why didn’t you go straight for them?’

‘Because I needed to prove to myself – and to you – that they deserved what I was going to do to them. If they’d been all reasonable and pleasant I couldn’t have done it, even if they refused to tell me what I wanted to know.’ Charlie pulled a face. ‘Actually, I hate having to do that. I thought that was all in the past.’

‘Being Superman’s quite a handy skill to have,’ she said.

‘It’s not too good for peace of mind, knowing I’m capable of stuff like that. I’d rather never have to do it again but, if I need to, to get Michael back, I will.’

‘So, what do we do now?’

‘Well we can’t tell Bannister I’ve just scared the truth out of Bert Pinkney. I’d get locked up for assault.’

‘Right then, Mr Cleghorn. I assume you know the way to Venice.’

‘Head for the
Alps and turn left, you can’t miss it.’

Mary had a map of Europe spread across her kitchen table. Around it sat the four of them: Mary, Lily, Charlie and Dee. A thought struck Charlie. He looked up at Lily.

‘You’ll need to get a passport – that might take a while.’

Lily looked at him through disapproving eyes. ‘So, you thought a poor, back-street girl like me wouldn’t have a passport? I’ve had one since my Larry got big ideas of going over to Norway for a family holiday. Getting a passport was as far as we got. Michael’s on my passport as well.’

Charlie held up his hands in apology. He looked at Dee, who said, ‘I’ve been around Europe a bit myself, Charlie,’ she said. ‘My passport’s not out of date yet, even if I am.’

‘OK,’ said Charlie. ‘Immediate problem solved. Three to go, four to come back. Problem number two is how to get there. Do we fly, do we go by train – or do we go in my van or on our bikes?’

‘I think you
can cancel three of them out,’ said Mary. ‘Van and motorbike – lack of comfort for a thousand-mile journey, and flying would cost a fortune right now.’

‘Train it is then,’ said Charlie.

‘How do we get across the Channel?’ Lily asked.

‘Ferry from Folkestone,’ said Charlie.

‘To where?’ said Lily, poring over the map. ‘Calais?’

‘I think Calais’s out of action for civilians right now, but I know we can get to Ostend.’

All four of them examined the map, Mary ran a finger from Ostend to Venice, tracking railway routes. ‘Ostend to Paris, Paris to Milan, Milan to Venice,’ she said. ‘You should still be able to get a through train from Paris if the war hasn’t messed things up.’

‘Still?’ said Charlie. ‘Mum, have you actually been to Venice?’

‘Yes, I have. I spent a whole summer there when I was twenty-two. I was just out of university and was offered a job as an English tutor in a Venice summer school. I got to live in a marvellous apartment overlooking the Grand Canal. Then I came home and met your father. Talk about the sublime to the ridiculous – sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean that.’

‘Oh, yes, you did,’ said Charlie, grinning.

‘Talking about my ex-husband, how about cost? Can you afford it or shall we bully Tom for the money?’

The four of them looked at each other. ‘I’m OK for money,’ said Lily. ‘I still haven’t drawn any of my warwidow’s pension.’

‘I can pay my way,’ said Charlie.’

‘I’ll give
Henry Smithson a ring,’ said Dee. ‘He works on the
Craven Herald
,’ she explained to Mary. ‘I’ve given him first dabs at an exclusive on this story. Now that it’s coming to a head I think they can get their hands into their pockets and pay our expenses. If not, I’m OK for money.’

‘That’s it, then,’ said Charlie. ‘We go by train and we don’t have to worry Dad.’ He pushed the envelope with the address written on it over to his mother. ‘What are we to make of this address?’

Mary examined it carefully. ‘Well, the very word
palazzo
means we’re looking for a really high-class residence.’

‘Yeah, I figured that,’ said Charlie. ‘The direct translation is palace.’

‘Dorsoduro,’ said Mary, ‘tells me it’s in Venice itself and not on mainland Venice, which means it could be a devil to find without directions, despite having an address.’

‘What’s Dorsoduro?’ Lily asked.

‘It’s a
sestiere
,’ said Mary. ‘It means area. There are six of them in Venice: I lived in one called San Marco when I was there.’

‘Pity you can’t come with us,’ said Dee.

‘It’s a question of where I’ll be most use. Here looking after Christopher or showing you round Venice.’