They Made Their Mark: Chapter 3

"Sounds good," Fatty remarked, as Larry finished his life story. "I'll buy your books. What's it like at the Gazette, Larry?"

"Brilliant! They let you go your own way most of the time and that suits me fine. You can't really run things that way in the mother office."

"Aris's in Birmingham?"

"That's right," said Larry. "The Birmingham Gazette is a well-run paper but too impersonal when compared with any local rag – and it's a bonus working for one in my own home town. There's rumour that the parent will be merged soon but I'm not worried."

"Not as long as you're working industriously. You should write a series about your travels in the R.A.F. – a few columns each week like the one Noble writes."

"Could do, but he's the current columnist."

"What's your most memorable experience, in the Air Force, Larry?"

Larry paused for a moment. "It wasn't strictly Air Force business, but following the route that Amelia Earhart took on her round-the-world flight would be high on the list – a movie-crew was making a documentary and I was asked to stand in for the Master Navigator who had fallen ill. That was a memorable experience, but standing on Auyan-Tepui and witnessing the Angel Falls cascading over the edge was mind-boggling and I think I'd plump for that simply because it was so awesome."

"Tell me about it."

Larry put down his cup and looked positively animated as he spoke. "When I was on leave I volunteered to accompany a Flying Officer pal who was making a delivery to Ciudad and for some adminstrative reason we couldn't return until the Monday. Carl, whom I accompanied, knew a guy called Paco who did contract work as a helicopter pilot for the Venezuelan military and as we were at a loose end we tagged along with him on a trip to El Callao. Paco was a terribly obliging fellow, always smiling and asking if we were comfortable and pointing out all the sights that we passed along the way."

He took a sip of his coffee before continuing.

"We arrived when the pre-Easter carnival was on and so we did what everyone else was doing – a little revelling, and we stayed the night in a depot. On the Sunday before we returned, Paco took us on a side trip to the Gran Sabana region and rather against the rudimentary rules that are in place over that way – you'd never get away with it in the R.A.F., he flew us to the top of what's locally known as Devil's Mountain. I can recall every detail of that trip which is surprising because I have the odd memory lapse... it was about 5 a.m. and the helicopter took us through clouds and about 3000 feet up the side of this massive cliff with the jungle stretching out on all sides. The view from the top was incredible. You look down upon this great mass of white clouds spread out as far as the eye can see and on this particular morning there were breaks through which we could glimpse the jungle."

Larry became more descriptive as his passion grew.

"As I looked down, the clouds were parting and the sun rose – accompanied by a crescendo of jungle sounds heralding the dawn. It sounded like an eerie symphony performed by the thousands of birds and animals moving about in the trees – a symphony exclusively for us three lonely figures way up there on the mesa. When you approach the edge of the cliff you have to walk through this fine spray from the water where it plunges down into a seething cauldron below and there are rainbows dancing all round where the sun's rays strike the vapour."

He looked at his friend earnestly. "You know Fatty, standing up there so far away from life as we know it and looking out over the great expanse was like being transported back to the dawn of time. Just as I was beginning to think I should pinch myself, Paco reached into the 'copter and turned on a portable recorder which belted out the Hallelujah Chorus through a tannoy and I remember wondering if there was any music that could compliment the surroundings more aptly. It got really hot in the sun so we climbed back into the helicopter, soared high above the waterfall and sailed over the edge of the precipice heading due north where we diverted to view the Orinoco River before landing back in Ciudad."

Larry paused and frowned. "Fatty?" When Fatty's eyes remained closed, Larry raised his voice. "Fatty!"

Fatty's eyes opened with a start. "Golly and gosh, Larry – that was beautiful. If you hadn't called out just then I'd have nodded off and dreamt that I was up on top of that mesa with the jungle and the clouds." He laughed. "Add a dusky maiden, and you could relive the Garden of Eden... Larry, that's honeymoon territory and I'm ready to go!"

"Find yourself a friendly helicopter pilot and make sure you do visit the place, Fatty. You'll never regret it – in fact I'll come with you."

"I have my pilot's licence, Larry, but I'm not up to helicopters."

"Frederick, surely you joke!"

"No. seriously. I hung around the local aero-club for a while because I thought it would come in handy in my work. I get called out occasionally to some remote area and the quicker I can get there the better because clues can disappear in a very short time – as you probably know."

"That's wonderful! Another notch in your belt, Fatty. How advanced are you?"

"Only basic at present, Larry – nothing up to your standard of expertise."

"We'll have to go on a flight together." Larry rubbed his hands briskly. "Now, to bring you up to date, last year after resigning from the R.A.F. I left Gibraltar, arrived back in the Mother Country, and hung around Cranwell for a month or two – that was where I had done a portion of my initial training. I spent the time sorting things out as far as the Air Force goes and then flew back to London where I was very lucky to meet up with an old friend who'd gone into journalism. He put me onto a couple of leads in the newspaper world and one was in my home town which was the very best news I could have received so I duly applied. The Gazette managers in Brum looked at their prospective employee and examined his references which were helped a little by the fact that in the R.A.F. I'd been co-editor of the base newsletter and, added to that, I'd completed a London School of Journalism course. My bona-fides seemed bona-fide so I was hired and that was about a month ago. I arrived here and a few days after commencing work I ended up chatting with the ex-head of the Find-Outers who's apparently still a Find-Outer. Now, do me a favour."

"What, Larry?"

"Help me."

"Sure!"

"I think we've both forgotten my reason for being here and, as my position at the Peterswood Gazette depends on what I contribute, I must gently and persuasively turn the conversation back to Frederick Trotteville for a while so that I can qualify for this week's pay cheque."

"Sure, Larry. I was so carried away with your account that everything else was wiped from my mind. But yes, let's get back to Peterswood, although I'll want to hear more of your adventures sometime."

"You bet!" Larry opened a pad, took a pencil from his pocket, and began writing. "I want material that's reasonably relevant to the content of a nice little article about the humble beginnings of a local guy who made good. All other stuff is between you and me, naturally, and I'm sure there'll be far more personal stuff than the newspaper will ever receive."

"Right," said Fatty. "As I said, my line of business is detection and here's something rather curious – you know of course that I read a lot about Sherlock Holmes' methods when I was younger? Well... in a small way, I've followed his course."

"How do you mean, Fatty?"

"Holmes was, in his own words, a consulting detective, and that's what I've become. But not exclusively because, although most of the run-of-the-mill stuff is handled through the other office, I help with that as well."

"You're a consulting detective? Detectives or police come to you for advice?"

"Yes! It grew out of a passion and you of all people will understand that statement, but let me start at the beginning. As you know, I wanted to enter the police force and Jenks – "

"Jenks!" Larry interrupted. "The Super? Superintendent Jenks?"

"Yeah. Jenks had expressed once or twice that he'd help me when the time came because he was aware of my determination to take up detecting. You have all kinds of lofty ideas of what you want to be when you're young but I knew very early on that I wanted to be a detective and as the standard route was via the police, I thought I'd better enter without delay. When I was at uni I'd kept in touch with the Super – visited him many times and got to know the various police personnel around his area and I was deluged with reading matter from the Police HQ library. I also searched out a lot for myself and soon began delving into the refined area of Pure Analysis. This was the Sherlockian side emerging and, briefly, it's the art of being able to distance yourself from any emotions, then place all factors of a case alongside each other in graduated positions, and deduce whatever there is that can be deduced. It's a bit like a visualized chess game, if you can follow me."

Larry stopped writing. "I think I can. I once played chess with a fellow who lay on his bed and imagined the board and the chessmen. I had the game on a table and he directed me to move his pieces here and there and I did so accordingly with him playing the whole game in his mind. At one stage he questioned a move so I back-tracked and saw that a mistake on my part had been made which I corrected, and I remember being impressed no end over that. He won!"

"Yes. You have to picture the whole case in your mind and manipulate all the information as one would the chessmen. With this interest increasing day by day I applied for the police and the Super paved the way."

"You'd get in anyway, Fatty. I know you've got the intelligence and the fitness and everything else needed for the job."

"Thanks for that, Larry. Yes, I passed all the entrance exams, they whisked me away to Hendon, and after about six months Constable Trotteville emerged..."

"Nice!"

"Corny, I think. Doesn't sound right – bit of a mouthful. Detective Trotteville was what I wanted to be."

"Point noted."

"Constable Trotteville weathered a couple of years in three different locales – the first was in the Newington area and then, with Jenks's help, I was transferred to Bucks..."

"Peterswood?"

"No, Larry. Can you imagine me being transferred to Goon territory?"

"Goon! Theophilus Goon! How's the old warrior? I thought he'd have been given his marching orders ages ago. Did he know about you? Did you meet up with him, Fatty?"

"Probably, and yes – but we're side-tracking... I was going to mention that I spent some time under Jenks's direct jurisdiction and we "clicked" in our ideas concerning routines and procedures and I was sorry when I had to move on to Amersham. Jenks, being the wise soul that he is, managed very neatly to steer me clear of Goon. I'll fill you in on him later of course but to answer your question – I'm sure he knew that I was in the Force. He must have known simply from everyday chat with colleagues in the canteen. However, I had no contact with him in the very early stages of my career and thank goodness for that! He doesn't worry me, of course, but there might have been a hint of discomfort and embarrassment for him if "That Toad of a Boy" was once again within grappling distance. I got on well where I was and made good friends and, most important, I built up plenty of contacts and learnt a considerable amount about policing. And then – changes came. Jenks was posted to the Yard. He'd been promoted and it appeared that London needed him so he was up and away to involve himself with Bigger Things and there was I – stuck in Amersham."

"The Super at the Yard, eh? That's great, I'm sure he deserved the promotion. What did he do there, Fatty?"

"He became a Chief Superintendent and after a time he went to the division of his choice, namely the Special Branch. Jenks' forte is in national security issues and that includes things like the protection of foreign dignitaries or hunting out spies and he was just the man for the job. Did you know he was dabbling in the same field before he went to the Yard – remember that mystery we solved involving Fellows and Bobby-Boy."

"Fellows!" Larry looked up again. "The entertainer chap who rented The Cedars?"

Fatty nodded. "Yeah."

"Wasn't he a counter-agent or something?"

"Well, his boss was..."

"Don't tell me, I want to remember his boss's name. Fatty, I have to tell you before we go any further that I have lapses of memory due to an accident in a decelerator."

Fatty's eyebrows shot up. "A whatter?"

"A decelerator. It's a machine that tests the effects of fast slowdown on a pilot's system. I took part in a demonstration about six months ago and the rockets that propel it misfired. I was jerked off beam and that, together with the abrupt stop, caused an injury to the extent that I suffer lapses. I can remember very clearly the more recent happenings but, as far as my earlier years go, I might remember almost everything about a particular incident but with the exception of little details here and there which have completely vanished."

"Nothing permanent I hope, Larry?" Fatty's voice showed concern.

"Fortunately the answer is no. The medics who examined me gave their opinions and told me that the condition will fade away in several months or so – and it definitely is, but I still have the lapses now and again and that's why I'm looking forward so much to your reacquainting me with past times. Here's such an instance – I want to remember the name of Mr. Fellow's boss and I've forgotten it but I was advised to associate known factors when something like this came up. I can see the doll and I remember a friend of the Super talking to us about the owner and it's... it's.. no, I can't get it."

"Try, Larry."

"European? Was the man a European... from Greece, maybe? I keep seeing 'Euro' and that's all."

"Eurycles?"

"OF COURSE! That's the one – and I've just given you an excellent demonstration of my condition."

"I'm really glad that it's not long term or anything, old chap. Does it affect your current employment?"

"Very little, Fatty, because I'm writing in the present time and if I need to check facts, there are plenty of facilities."

"O.K. That's good; well, as you know, Mr. Eurycles took his stage name from the original Greek ventriloquist, so you were very near. Now, it wasn't long after Jenks was established in London – about a year later, that I received the surprise of my life."

Larry stopped scribbling in his pad and looked up expectantly. "Yes? What was that?"

"With a little string-pulling Jenks got me transferred to the Met. – the Metropolitan Police. You haven't forgotten, have you, that the Super, as he was in the early days, wanted me to be his right-hand man?"

Larry nodded. "I remember him mentioning it a few times. He didn't really mean it, though, did he? I always thought he just said it as a kind of joke."

"Well, that's right, and I'm sure he was just stringing me along a bit. However, later on, he knew I wanted to expand my knowledge and I couldn't really do that where I was stationed. Once or twice he told me I had high potential and he wanted me near him so that he could act as a mentor... I would be his protégé."

"Well, I think I could believe that, Fatty... he was always singing your praises. Great bit of luck."

"Yes. A relevant factor is that we got on so well together. We liked and respected each other and, if it hadn't have been for the age difference, we would have been best friends right back in the Find-Outer days. He told me that I had an innate talent for detection and that I was very organized when it came to crime solving – and I'm not going to contradict anyone who tells me that. The idea was that I'd be assigned a partner and work off the time I was required to pound the beat before I was elevated to something more respectable. Larry, the Chief was so good to me. When you know someone like that who trusts you implicitly and has such faith in whatever latent abilities you have... well, I simply determined to myself that I wouldn't let him down. He wangled a few courses for me and off I went to study criminology and advanced detection techniques and I took to them like a fish to water."

Fatty decided it was time for another piece of cake, and he finished it as Larry made more notes.

He continued. "Jenks had told me that he thought I would benefit greatly from the courses because of my interest in the subjects, and he turned out to be right. I sailed through with very high marks then did my groundwork, was promoted, and several months after that I entered the same area that he moved in, although I wasn't in his particular division. He wanted me involved in detection and also to assist him from the side by taking the overflow and organizing it. While I was doing this I was also concentrating on my Pure Analysis project, and I even started experimenting a little. With, I might add, quite spectacular results."

Larry leaned forward. "Such as?"

To be continued...