UNDERCOVER
They
said he’d have a sign. A placard printed with his name in thick black letters.
Ladislaw Polk. What they don’t tell Weston is what the bloody chap looks like.
Without a hint of description, he could be any one of the arrivals. A spare figure
of a fellow or beefy? Bearded or stubble-free?
He expects
more from Scotland Yard, but this time he suspects some Metropolitan bloke
spent overtime in the loo and missed the chief’s briefing on Polk. A field man,
Weston is already out on the street; in fact, he is at the baggage station at
Heathrow, waiting for the Yard to give him a bell, but no joy there. Not a
peep from his mobile. He keeps it nestled in his side pocket.
Why attempt a conspicuous
move that might alert Polk? For all Police Constable Edward Weston knows, the killer
could well be poking his hidden revolver at him, breaths away from squeezing
the trigger.
This
time in desperation Weston tries giving a bell to the Chief. No one answers.
Out
from the crowd, gripping an overnight valise, a man walks smilingly toward him.
Weston reads “Ladislaw Polk” on the white placard before Polk rests it against
the revolving baggage carousel. He is tall, imperially slim, clean-shaven.
“Might
you help me? It appears I am carrying too much baggage today.”
###
“Polk, the best of them?”
The
bobbies nod in unison like carnival clown dolls.
Chief
Constable counters with quick shakes of his shiny head. Finally, he snaps the
pencil he is twirling finger to finger and says, “Weston fooled us all. Took us
for barmy fools. You know what ticks me more than most anything in this job.”
Again,
the bobbing heads.
“A
good man, years of service high on the honor pole, and one day he wakes up, sees
there’s a world out there filled with euros for the taking-- millions of them!
And he puts himself under the hot lights of his own self-grilling where each
question “Why” grows easier to ask, “Why not?”
All
heads turn to the telephone on the desk of the chief who, without speaking, holds
it to his ear.
On
the other end, Polk says, “It was a delightful trip.”
The
chief is relieved.
“Difficulties?”
“None,”
says Polk. “I got lost in the crowd.”
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