George MacDonald Fraser - Mr. American

MRAMERICAN

GeorgeMacDonald Fraser

FirstPublished in 1980

Acknowledgementis due and gratefully given to Peter Newbolt for permission to quotefrom Sir Henry Newbolt's "The Fighting Temeraire"; and toB. Feldman & Co. Ltd. for permission to quote from "Everybody'sDoing It (Now)" and from "It's a Long Long Way toTipperary"; and to Herman Davewski Publishing Co. for permissionto quote from "Goodbye, Dolly Gray".

PartOne

InspectorGriffin came down to the landing-stage on a raw autumn morning to seethe _Mauretania_ berthing. It was part of his job; there was alwayssomeone from the detective department on hand when the Americanliners docked, but for Inspector Griffin it was a pleasure, too. Heloved the bustle of the wharf at dawn, and the sight of the huge ironship edging gently into the quay, the busy little tugs, the squealingwhistles, the propellor churning the yellow Mersey into dirty foam;he even enjoyed the bite of the wind and the cold drizzle which wascausing his colleague, young Constable Murphy, to hunch his collarround his chin as he stamped his feet on the wet flags. To Murphy itwas just another tedious chore; he wiped his nose and glowered at thelow clouds over the river.

"Won'tbe worth their while takin' off at Doncaster this afternoon," heobserved glumly, and Inspector Griffin understood. Constable Murphywas a flying enthusiast, like most of the population these days;since M. Blriot had come winging ghost-like out of theChannel mist a few weeks before, the first man to fly from Franceinto England in a crazy contraption that looked like an overgrownkite, the country seemed to have gone flying daft, Inspector Griffinreflected. He didn't like it; perhaps he was getting old andconservative, but the thought that a man could fly in a few minutesacross England's last line of defence--and from France, of allplaces--made him uneasy. It wasn't natural, and it wasn't safe. Andwhat use would the Royal Navy be, if Frogs and Germans and God knewwhat other breed of foreigners could soar unscathed over their heads?

"Farmanan' Cody's goin' to be at Doncaster," said Murphy, with relish."First flyin' meetin' on British soil, by gum! Wouldn't I liketo be there? Cody flew from London to Manchester the other day, overthe railway tracks, special markers they had on the ground to guidehim--an' they say Farman's been up six hundred feet, an' can gohigher yet." He shuddered deliciously and wiped his nose again."Think of it, sir! Just them tiny machines, an'--"

Females,football and flying, Griffin reflected irritably, that was all theseyoung fellows thought about. The gangways were down, and the firstpassengers were picking their way gingerly down to the quay,shepherded by the _Mauritania's_ stewards, but Murphy, who shouldhave been casting a professional eye over them, was plainly milesaway in the sky above Doncaster, performing aerobatics with Cody andFarman and his other heroes.

"Cody'sgoin' to become naturalised British, they reckon," he went on."If he lives long enough--there was a crash at Paris t'otherday, fellow broke his neck, shocking risks they take--"

"Thoughtyou were more interested in Everton," said Griffin, vainlytrying to stem the flood. "Aren't they playing Liverpool thisafternoon?"

"Gah,they'll get beat, them," said Murphy derisively. "Playfootball, that lot? They dunno what football is--you should have beenup in Glasgow the other day, sir, my Saturday off. Glasgow versusSheffield, that was something. See that McMenemy, an' Quinn--bloodymarvellous! We don't see nothing like 'em, down here. Now, Quinn,he--"

Iwas a fool to mention it, thought Griffin, and a bigger fool forbeing so soft. Any right-minded inspector would have shut up thegarrulous Murphy with a look, but he wasn't a bad lad and Griffin hada liking for him. Irish though--mind you, who wasn't, in Liverpoolthese days? Griffin the Welshman had strong views about immigrants,and while the Micks were undeniably fellow-Britons there were still adamned sight too many of them about.

"Comeon," he said, "they're coming ashore," and the twoofficers moved off into the long, dingy Customs shed where theofficials were waiting with their watchful eyes and pieces of chalkamong the mounds of baggage, to deal soft-voiced with the firstpassengers who were congregating at the tables.

Thiswas what Griffin liked. The faces, the clothes, the voices--above allthe voices. Many years before, Inspector Griffin had been a strappingyoung constable in the North-west Mounted Police; it was where hiscareer had begun, and he had never lost his affection for the NorthAmerican accent--even the harsh nasal Yankee voice which was so oftenheard in that shed awoke memories for him; he had that vagueprivileged feeling of kinship that one feels for foreigners in whosecountry one has lived. Not that Canada was foreign, of course, quitethe opposite; neither were Americans, really--he scanned the facesbeyond the tables with an interest that was only part-professional,indulging in his habitual speculation. Who were they? Where were theyfrom? What would they be doing in England? How many of them wererascals? One or two, in his experience, but nothing serious thistrip, or Delgado in New York would have telegraphed. He'd never metDelgado, and knew him only as a name at the end of cables andoccasional official reports--Delgado would know him in the same way.Wonder what he was like?--sounded like an Italian name, maybe. Goodpoliceman, anyway, whatever he was; it was Delgado's tip that hadhelped them nail that German forger in Leeds a year ago.

"DoI look as though I am carrying more than half a pint of spirits?"A mountainous lady in an expensive sealskin coat and a mountainousEnglish accent was glaring at a Customs man. "Spirits, indeed! Inever heard of such--"

"Perfumesare spirits, madam," said the Customs man quietly. "Haveyou any perfume, madam?"

"Ofcourse I have. A normal quantity, and certainly not half a pint--"

"Andchocolates, madam? Confections of any kind?"

"Chocolates?"

"Sweetsare dutiable, madam. Any American candies, or bon-bons--"

"Whatarrant nonsense!" The lady turned indignantly to the pale youngcompanion at her side. "Have we any sweets, Evelyn? Dangerous,highly contraband sweets whose introduction into England willunbalance the Budget?"

Griffinsmiled, but his eyes were elsewhere, running over a small, stout manwaiting his turn at the next table, politely allowing a lady to gofirst, smiling affably and tapping his fingers on the handle of hisvalise. Three or four bottles of brandy in there for a start, thoughtGriffin. That was not strictly speaking any of his business, but thestout little man could easily be a sharp. Griffin sauntered closer tolisten to the voice.

"...onebottle of bourbon, open, and a half pound of cigars, nothing else,officer." It was an American voice, sharp and eager, perhaps alittle too conciliatory. "Oh, and I have a copy of one of MrConan Doyle--I beg your pardon, _Sir_ Arthur Conan Doyle's novels,printed in America. I know that English copyrighted books are liableto confiscation, but I assure you it's the only one I've got."

"--an'anyway, Liverpool'll win by two clear goals, easy," ConstableMurphy was saying. "Want me to keep an eye on that one, sir?"

Griffinturned away, surveying the other passengers. Rich, influential,upper-class, most of them, as one would expect aboard the_Mauretania._ Well-fed faces, substantial broadcloths and tweeds onthe men, furs on the ladies, fox stoles and sealskins, diamond pins,gold watch-chains, a profusion of expensive rings and brooches--apickpocket's paradise, if any of the local dips had had the nerve toinvade the area between the quay and Riverside Station, well-policedas it was. About half were American visitors, about half returningBritons; the voices mingled in a babble round the Customs tables."Anything to declare...? Well, I don't know how many cigars makea pound, officer...I have this silk scarf, but it's a present for mymother, don't you know...if you'll open the large trunk, please,sir...but it's an _engagement_ ring--this is my fianc--surelyyou won't charge on that?...anything to declare, madam?"