Bloodhounds

Chapter Eight

An air of urgency was gusting through Manvers Street Police Station when Peter Diamond and Julie Hargreaves returned from Saltford. Constables and civilians carrying faxes, files, and clipboards hotfooted it along the corridors. Phones were cheeping like cicadas. Diamond stopped a chief inspector and asked, "What's up? Everyone's behaving as if King Kong dropped in."

"It's the ruddy media," he was told. "They won't leave us alone."

"What media? The Bath Chronicle?"

"The nationals. Mainly the tabloids. Not to mention radio and TV. They're driving John Wigfull spare."

"Why? What do they want?"

"A statement on the break-in. He's due to give one shortly, but they won't wait."

"What break-in?"

"Where have you been all day? Someone did the Postal Museum last night and pinched the world's oldest stamp."

"In Bath? I didn't know we had the world's oldest stamp."

The chief inspector managed a weary grin. "We don't anymore.

It emerged that the world's oldest stamp was not normally kept in the Postal Museum, but had been loaned by the owner (whose identity was a secret) for a special exhibition. It was in the city of Bath on May 2, 1840, that the Postmistress mistakenly date-stamped an unknown number of letters bearing the new Penny Blacks four days before the service was due to start. An envelope bearing the famous stamp and date had survived for over a century and a half.

"What's the value?"

"Only two are known to exist. Covers, they call them when they mean the entire face of the envelope. One like it was sold in auction in 1991 to a Japanese collector for one million, three hundred and fifty thousand pounds. It's in the Guinness Book of Records. The biggest price ever paid for a postage stamp."

"Insured?"

"Their people are here already."

"What was the security?"

"They have video surveillance and strong locks on the doors. The stamp was on the upper floor in a special cabinet screwed to the wall. The thief got in through a window upstairs."

"Where was this?"

"You know that passage leading up the side of the building, from Broad Street to Shires Yard? He had cutting gear to break into the cabinet. The SOCOs are saying that he left by way of the window he forced. It was a sash window. He must have used a ladder."

"And nobody noticed?" Diamond said in disbelief.

"The theory is that he posed as a window cleaner and did it in broad daylight between seven and nine in the morning. As everyone knows who is out early, a small army of window cleaners is at work every day before the shops open, washing the windows. He could stroll up Broad Street with a ladder and a bucket, and no one would give him a second look. He'd have his tools in the bucket covered with a leather."

"Cool."

"John Wigfull doesn't think so. We're taking a lot of flak from the broadcast media, and the papers are going to have a field day tomorrow. The point is that we had a team guarding some painting in the Victoria Gallery, and no one seemed to know about the stamp."

As soon as they were alone, Diamond warned Julie that if asked, she should say she was working flat out on the Saltford bank murder. "You can't be spared, even for half a day, right? You've got all those statements from the staff to check, and it's opened up several new lines of inquiry."

"Has it?"

"Well, if you want to spend the day mopping John Wigfull's fevered brow…"

He felt in his pocket for the scrap of newspaper he had tucked away that morning. After reminding himself precisely what he had written, he went in search of Wigfull. The man of the hour wasn't difficult to find in one of the offices on the first floor. All the activity was focused there. Faxes and files were going in at a dizzying rate. The chief inspector was entrenched behind a large desk heaped with paper. His body language- the hunched look as he talked into a phone-said everything Diamond expected. One hand was curled around the back of his head. The big mustache was lopsided, as if it had partially collapsed, the brown eyes glazed and bloodshot. You had to feel sympathy.

A sergeant Diamond scarcely knew said unnecessarily, "He's terribly busy, sir. We're giving a press conference shortly."

"That's what this is about."

Wigfull put down the phone, and immediately it started beeping again. Diamond's hand was on it first, keeping it in place.

"Half a mo, John."

"I'm about to meet the press," said Wigfull.

"I know. Have you thought it through?"

"Thought what through?"

"The statement you're about to make."

"Certainly. I'm not wet behind the ears."

"May I read it?"

"It's being photocopied right now. You'll get one if you want it."

"What do you intend to say about Bumblebee?"

Wigfull looked into the distance like a camel unwilling to move. "I won't be mentioning Bumblebee. The Turner's got nothing to do with this. I've no doubt that we prevented a possible crime in the Victoria Gallery, but there's no connection with the loss of this stamp."

"I think you'll find there is, John, and I think the press boys will be onto it. They're not slow. You're going to face questions, so you might as well have something ready to say."

"About the Turner?" Wigfull was still uninterested.

"The message we had on the radio this morning." He fished it from his pocket again and read it to Wigfull.

"J.M.W.T.

Surrounded by security.

Victoria, you challenge me.

I shall shortly come to thee.

Wigfull stared at him without a glimmer of comprehension. "Well?"

"Isn't it clear to you?" said Diamond through the din made by the phone. "We were set up, John. The Turner was a distraction. The Victoria he was talking about wasn't the name of the gallery. It was the stamp. The Penny Black with Queen Victoria's head on it."

"Do you think so?" Wigfull said. His weary eyes held Diamond a moment, slipped away, and came back to him twice as large. " 'Victoria, you challenge me.' My God. Why didn't I think of it?"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Diamond generously said. "It could have happened to any of us. So easy to get bogged down in one line of inquiry."

"When did you put two and two together?"

"A few minutes ago, when I heard about the break-in."

"The bastard's made a laughingstock of me. He told us what he was planning, and I didn't see it."

"Which is why you should be boxing clever when you meet the press. They will have cottoned onto this, John."

Wigfull raked his fingers across his scalp. "How would you handle it?"

"Tell them it's no ordinary break-in. It was well planned and boldly carried out. You're dealing with a smart aleck who takes pleasure in announcing his plans, but in cryptic form. Take them through the rhyme showing how devious it was. That 'Victoria' could have referred to half a dozen locations in Bath. Tell them this aleck is not so smart as all that, because he won't be able to sell the stamp. It would be like trying to unload the Mona Lisa."

"Good point," said Wigfull. "What does he hope to do with it-demand a ransom?"

"Probably. But I wouldn't open that can of worms with the press, even when they suggest it. If you'll take advice from someone who has dealt with those guys, don't be tempted to speculate on what might happen next. Deal with the facts as known. Tell them a full-scale investigation has been launched, and leave it at that."

"Peter, I appreciate this," said Wigfull.

"Forget it."

"No, I mean it."

"All right. Don't forget it until you've bought me a drink."