Battle for Inspector West by John Creasey Page B

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    He did not realise how remarkable it was that he did not take it for granted that Carosi would be caught tonight.
    â€˜Where is he?’ West demanded urgently.
    â€˜Upstairs. West! There’s something I must tell you.’
    â€˜Keep it,’ said West. ‘Stay here.’ He slipped out into the porch again, and Grant heard him whisper. A moment later an engine started up, and a car moved down the drive.
    West came back.
    â€˜Better let them think you’ve gone,’ he said. ‘How many people are there about; do you know?’
    â€˜I—I’ve only seen two,’ said Grant. ‘West, my wife—’
    â€˜If she’s here we’ll get her,’ West said. ‘Don’t worry, Grant.’
    â€˜If Carosi thinks I planned this, he’ll kill her.’
    â€˜If he’s got any sense, he’ll know we had police in cars, on bicycles and on foot keeping a look-out for you, and were in touch by radio nearly all the time,’ West said. ‘I was on the train from Salisbury, too. We’ve a dozen men, some at the back, some at the drive-gates, some on each side. Carosi hasn’t a chancel’
    Had Christine?
    If Grant joined with West now, if Carosi got away, if Christine wasn’t here …
    The thoughts and fears made anguish in Grant’s mind, and suddenly, wildly, he hated this policeman, with his damnable calm and cocksureness, for West might be passing sentence of death on Christine.
    He mustn’t let West get Carosi.
    â€˜Where was Carosi?’ West asked. ‘The quicker it’s over the better, now.’
    Now that he had made up his mind, Grant felt much easier.
    â€˜He was in my room,’ he lied. ‘Upstairs, along the first wide passage, and it’s the second door on the left.’
    â€˜In your room?’ West looked startled.
    â€˜This is my father’s house.’
    â€˜Good Lord!’ said West. ‘That’s hard.’ Damn him for the compassion in his voice. ‘Lead the way, will you?’
    Grant said: ‘West, I’ve had a hell of a time, and I’m all in.’
    Now he needed that compassion.
    â€˜All right, stay there,’ said West, and raised his voice just loud enough to be heard in the hall. ‘Follow me, you two.’
    Grant waited until they had disappeared at the head of the stairs, then hurried after them, the carpet muffling the sound. Their backs were towards him when he entered the sitting-room, crossed to the study, and opened the door. Carosi was standing by one of the book-lined walls.
    â€˜Grant, why are you here?’ His voice was still hoarse and unflurried. ‘I told you that—’
    â€˜West is here, and has men all round,’ Grant said. ‘If you’re to get away, you’ll have to use the side door. Go through—’
    â€˜I know the way,’ interrupted Carosi, and gave a smile that was surprisingly human as he added: ‘You will be well rewarded for this.’
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    Roger West went up those stairs with a vigour and eagerness which matched his mood. They’d catch Carosi. He had staked everything on this one throw, and could afford to pat himself on the back for anticipating what train Grant would catch, for getting some theatrical make-up from the hotel, borrowing an old suit from Fratton, making-up on the train. Fleet Street would give this banner headlines.
    â€˜Yard Man, Disguised, Catches Carosi!’
    He felt a fierce excitement as he tried the handle of the door, and then felt it yield. The other men were poised and ready.
    West flung the door back, on to an empty room.
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    Half an hour later, he gave up the search.
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    At half past ten next morning, Roger entered Scotland Yard, and found a kind of furtive interest everywhere – among the men on duty in the main hall, in the uniformed and plainclothes officers, and especially in Eddie Day. Eddie was alone in the office.
    â€˜Been having