8. In The Barley Mow

A discussion between DI Florence and Jerry

“My boss has ordered Glimpton to help me from tomorrow,” Jerry told the DI when they were sitting in the Barley Mow soon after opening time and had found out-of-the way seats in an alcove

“I can’t remember you mentioning him before,” frowned Florence, “what’s he like? I mean, is he going to be much use to you? Or get in the way?”

“He’s the most reprehensible rogue under the sun,” growled Jerry. “I’ve never actually met the guy, but his reputation is far from being shiny white! He’ll do anything to get the approval of the Major, or so it’s said by those who know him. Anyone would think he was on the side of chaos and evil! But as I said I haven’t actually met the guy so I won’t personally prejudge him,”

“Fair enough, Jerry, though that’s what you’ve done! So we’ll make our own minds up, eh?”

“That’s always best. So, Florence, did Jack tell you anything helpful? I know he’s my son, but he’s also very observant and even quite intelligent. Now you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to because I’ll sure wheedle everything he knows out of him before midnight strikes the end of the day!”

“It’s all right, Jerry, you’re the boy’s father and have every right to know. He mentioned two individuals he met as he wandered through the woods looking, he said, for hat he called a skellington! The first he thought was most unpleasant, a rough type who called himself Barney. We have him on our books. He’s not averse to doing a bit of bullying if he reckons he’ll get away with it and if I understand things properly he’s probably one of the characters you’re here to keep a friendly eye on.”

Jerry nodded. “I know a character who goes by the name of Barney all right. He’s by no means the brains in the cell who call themselves Gloopy of all things. As I heard it they chose the name because they reckon it’s too soft and cuddly to be nasty! But nasty it is. Their main objective is to overturn any government of any shade of the rainbow if they don’t get their own way, but Barney is more a foot soldier than a brainbox. But you mentioned that there were two people our Jack came upon in his gory search?”

Florence smiled and nodded. “Ah, yes, Jerry. Apparently the second guy says that he’s a schoolmaster at the Grammar and of all things teaches ornithology. You know, bird watching. And from my research, which isn’t so deep yet, I can’t find any trace of him. Jack said he was called something White by name. But there’s nobody on the school staff with White as a surname, though there is a Brown.”

“I’ll see if he’s in the Gloopy cell,” nodded Jerry. “Another drink?”

“I shouldn’t,” sighed Florence, and then she smiled, “but I will! I’ll have another of these.”

“An Italian red wine from the Tuscany region, and I thought you’d like it because, well, I do, and you asked me to surprise you and get you something I reckoned you’d like.”

He wandered towards the bar and returned with two drinks. “It’s good that its quiet in here,” he said, “it would do you few favours if word got around that you were out boozing with a spook and in cahoots with him.”

“Tell me about the assistant being sent from HQ,” asked Florence, “I mean, it’s clear he’s not popular and you seem to hate him even though you said you’ve never met the man.”

“Some people get reputations, and he’s got one of those in spades,” explained Jerry, “and if things are going to go wrong then nine times out of ten he’s in the middle of it.”

“Oh dear. Does that mean he’s some kind of, I don’t know what you’d call him, double agent or something like that?” asked Florence.

“Hush! That language is for James Bond films! We’re all thoroughly vetted before we so much as say hello to the boss! And he’s as pure as driven snow himself. Major Witherington has had an impressive career and sorted out more than one major threat to the peace of our fair land. He’s beyond doubt a first class person in every possible respect. But Glimpton is a very different kettle of fish. Nobody’s quite sure where he hailed from, certainly not a military background, probably more academic from what the others say. But he’s not trusted by anyone except the Major and I find that hard to reconcile with what I understand to be Witherington’s methods.”

“Suspicious. All right, then: tell me about the cell you’re watching, or at least as much as you can. And why did one of them want to do in your lady friend?”

Jerry grinned. “My lady friend? She’s not that exactly, though I do find her decent company. She was my late wife’s best friend, and that made her okay by me. I reckon that what’s happened is the Gloopy idiots have discovered that I’m an agent with a close interest in what they’re thinking and wanted to warn me off. Maybe the character with the beard is their hard man or fixer or whatever you want to call him. But he’s one that I’ve yet to get a fix on, though, to tell the truth, I thought I had the entire cell sussed out if he’s one of them. They’re mostly reasonably well off critics of the way our society is run. What they seem to want is something like the dictatorsyhips of the mid-twentieth century and they can’t get it in their heads that in that direction lurks danger.”

“Are they communists?”

“Fascists more like. In fact it’s my opinion that Hitler wouldn’t have looked out of place sitting at the same table as most of them. In particular the one who spoke to Jack, Barney by name. A bully boy who reckons that if anyone’s going to get his way over anything then it’s going to be him. And he’s no stranger to demanding the loyalty of others which, in his mind, means being surrounded by a posse of yes men.”

Florence nodded and frowned. “And what’s their objective?” she asked

Jerry frowned. “Overturning anything that smells of democracy and replacing it with rule by their cell, bypassing democratic processes as they go. They certainly don’t promote things like general elections in their manifesto, with public choosing governments, though the local branch seems a bit undecided about what it really wants. But go down south and you find more insane and dangerous individuals, and please note: they’re mostly fairly affluent, have quite a bit of wealth themselves and their plans involving them keeping it or increasing it, and to hell with those who’re less well off. They work on the theory that a man with wealth must be bright to have it.”

”Oh dear,” smiled Florence, “and where would that leave me if thet took control?”

“Or me,” added Jerry.

By then one or two strangers had entered the pub and he decided it was time for him to leave. He felt that he constantly needed to maintain a distance from strangers while he was in work mode, just in case.

© Peter Rogerson 04.07.24