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Chapter 11 - MY ENEMY'S ENEMY

"A bit late?"

Alexis's voice, an audible murmur in the twilight.

"Sorry."

She stood at the door of the caravan, more imagined than seen against the blackness of the unlit interior. Heavier storms rolled in, and heavy drops of freezing rain uninterrupted in the desolate holiday park.

Alexis locked the door and moved around in the darkness, adjusting the drapes, and flipping on a small table lamp, which gave tiny light. Nothing would show up through the curtains, not advertising Dr. Fawx might be up late at night would be the last thing we wanted to do.

She wore a red silk dressing gown, and nothing underneath.

She served me an alcoholic beverage, a smaller one for herself, and added water to both.

"Something happened?"

"I discovered two dead Russian operatives in a houseboat. Taken away by officials, where I gave a statement about why I came here. Burgled the land agents in the village, where I found photographic evidence on how the trawler sank and glimpsed a submarine near the tourist viewing area."

"The same one from the photograph?"

Alexis's eyes gazed down at the glass in her hand. I wished to heaven she would show some characterization on her attractive face.

"Yes, and I believe responsible for the sinking of the vessel, which killed those local men."

Alexis poured herself another drink. A much larger one. She swallowed half in one gulp.

"Who annihilated the Russians?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

For the first time, a flicker of declaration showed on Alexis' face.

"Their throats cut by a sharp implement. Whoever executed them would be strong."

"A professional hit?"

"Not sure."

Alexis set her tumbler down. She proceeded, letting herself go now, allowing her beautiful face its second affirmation in ten minutes, and not an encouraging one. She picked up her glass and grinned.

"Want to stay the night?"

The downpour still battered with relentless persistence on the meranti roof, which helped make my decision.

"Can I sleep on the sofa?"

"Of course. Let me find some blankets."

The over-blankets irritated my skin while I lay on the hard cushions, but somehow I still slept. Not for long, though.

Our visitors came at twenty past four in the morning.

Unhushed voices conducted a fierce conversation over my head. With woolly wits, exhaustion drifting inside my skull like puff-ball clouds on a summer's day, I tried with little enthusiasm to make sense of what continued being said.

"This is important."

I listened to Alexis doing her best to prevent them from coming in but fighting a losing battle.

With reluctance, I opened my eyes.

A globe of electric light shone on the ceiling. The room filled with four policemen.

Fitzgerald stared at me from a chair opposite, with Smee beside him.

The two special constables behaved agitated. Their uniforms ill-fitting, and they never spoke or made a gesture.

They couldn't understand what we said.

"I believe strolling out of our headquarters without being discharged, is not the done thing?"

Fitzgerald inquired.

"Fancied some clean air."

"We did not finish asking questions."

"I finished answering them."

"After departing the station, where did you go?"

"I walked about, and afterwards I came here."

"Didn't go anywhere else?"

"No, why?"

"Been a break-in at Mill-House Properties."

"So?"

"Someone spotted you."

I experienced icy fingers playing up and down my spine before, but not a centipede with a hundred hefty boots on.

"They must be mistaken."

Funny how a frosty sensation made me sweat. I took a risk on this one, but a fair attempt. I sensed a bluff, unless the rough sleeper took umbrage at me, disturbing him.

"We cannot reveal our sources."

Smee stared at me.

"I bet!"

Her sombre expression cracked, a little more certain now.

"No need for insubordination."

"I apologise. How can we help?"

"Can we make a quick inspection?"

Fitzgerald said.

"Why?"

Puzzlement in my voice and mind. I didn't understand what I possessed in my hands.

"If we remain courteous and cooperative, can we ask for an explanation?"

"No reason in the world, sir?"

The Sergeant sounded almost regretful.

"They took private documents from the estate agent's office and information received. We recognize the perpetrator came in this direction."

My focus rested on the two special constables. They acted odd and uncomfortable, and I didn't comprehend why, and when one of them looked at me there appeared to be a flicker of recognition on his face.

"How?"

"Sorry, sir. Confidential. This stands as the third site we visited along the Suffolk coast, and the thirteenth camper -- the fourth in Cape Ore - searched in the past couple of hours. I try to keep busy."

Fitzgerald tried the pleasant angle.

"We don't think a man with such a reputation would commit a wrongdoing like this. We got a job to do."

"Investigate all these caravans on different sites? Fresh arrivals? Didn't occur, Alexis Fawx lives here and doesn't fall into this category?"

"No, but others do."

Smee spoke without patience. I wondered how they managed, but from the East Anglian shoreline all the way around Britain, every Constable kept the comparable wooden voice, the identical characterless face, and the same cold eye. Must be something to do with the job they did. I ignored her.

"What crime?"

"Someone brought the telephone wires down, and the mobile-phone transmitter went on the blink."

"Am I capable of sabotage?"

"I won't answer, as I don't want to cause offence."

The arachnid started up again and broke into a fast gallop. Cut off. How convenient for somebody. I didn't spend any time wondering who dragged the cables down and put the aerial out of action. -- would be no act of God; I remained convinced.

"So, the constabulary suspects the reputable doctor and me, of causing blatant criminal damage?"

"We can't take chances."

Almost too apologetic now.

"If we take a brief peek round, we can be on our way."

Fitzgerald appeared more sympathetic.

"With the lines down, please understand."

His voice trailed off, and he smiled.

"The chance we find anything might suggest being saboteurs would be downright remote, but still -- if we didn't examine -- be out of a job tomorrow. A formality."

"We wouldn't want to witness this happening."

Fitzgerald and Smee stood aside, and the two silent volunteer special constables stepped forward together.