‘You wouldn’t want to know, sir,’ he said. ‘Or maybe you would. Maybe it explains things. Maybe you’d think it had me tagged.’
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Gently said.
‘No,’ Tallent said. ‘I don’t have to.’
He came back from the window, dropped in his chair. He sat with head slanted forward.
‘I don’t like black people,’ he said. ‘They don’t like me. Yeah, I’m prejudiced as hell. There was a time they didn’t bother me. Now they do. So there’s a reason.’
‘What happened during the war?’
Tallent shook his head. ‘I’m a damn fool to talk about this,’ he said. ‘It’s not on my record, here or at Uxbridge, and telling you won’t do me any good. I was a Corporal-fitter in the airworks.’
‘Overseas?’
‘In this country. All the war. Bomber Command. I did a circuit in 3 Group. End of the war we were shifted around, misemployed, that sort of caper. I got my ticket in ’46. My last station was Blackbushe.’ He glanced at Gently. ‘Mean anything?’
‘Not so far,’ Gently said.
‘I guess it wouldn’t,’ Tallent said. ‘Somehow it never made the papers. We had black servicemen there, West Indians, maybe a couple of hundred of them. There was trouble. We armed up, drove them out of camp.’
He locked his fingers together, squeezed.
‘It was me who triggered it off,’ he said. ‘One lunchtime a black guy beat me up. After that came the riot.’
‘I see,’ Gently said. He smoked.
‘No, you don’t see,’ Tallent said, squeezing. ‘When I walked into that bloody canteen at lunchtime it was like walking into a bucket of lightning. There were eighty, a hundred black guys standing around, one or two white blokes sitting at the tables. It stank of violence. You could smell it. It made the hair prickle on your head. I wouldn’t back out. I walked to the counter. A bloody great black thug came up and kneed me. Then he butted my face and I went down and he stood there kicking me, spitting on me. And none of the white blokes lifted a finger. Like they couldn’t see what was going on.’
Tallent breathed tightly, dragging, squeezing.
‘Next day we made the coshes,’ he said. ‘Loaded hose, bound with wire. All the workshops were turning them out. Lunchtime nobody went near the canteen. The black guys were strutting around like heroes. Then after work we set about them, sent them running and screaming like pigs. And I fixed the one that gave me the kicking. I cut him down. I smashed his skull and his ribs and his knees. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t walk. All he could do was grovel and scream. Maybe he’s going on crutches still. The rest we drove out into the fields. That was it. They never came back.’
‘And you live with it,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘You have to live with it. When I see a black face it all comes up, I have to beat him to the punch. Before that happened it was okay, I could see one of them and let him live. But not now. The beating spoiled me. One of us has to be the boss.’
‘Beating him didn’t get it out of your system.’
Tallent pulled his hands apart. ‘Nope,’ he said.
‘Would beating all of them do it?’
‘Nope,’ Tallent said. ‘Not beating all of them.’
Gently smoked. Tallent stared at his hands, leaning forward towards the desk. His lips were thin and pale. He pulled his breath in in snatches.
‘So I’m warped,’ he said. ‘I can’t help it. What I’ve been through would warp any man. If you want me off this case, okay I can understand your point.’
‘You kept going into that canteen,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘Always a sucker.’
‘So you’d better keep going with this case,’ Gently said.
Tallent’s head jerked. He said nothing.
‘Right,’ Gently said. ‘Stout will be coming up with that list of club members soon. I’d like you to get on with questioning them, seeing what they remember about Tuesday evening.’
Tallent just nodded. ‘Do
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Gently said.
‘No,’ Tallent said. ‘I don’t have to.’
He came back from the window, dropped in his chair. He sat with head slanted forward.
‘I don’t like black people,’ he said. ‘They don’t like me. Yeah, I’m prejudiced as hell. There was a time they didn’t bother me. Now they do. So there’s a reason.’
‘What happened during the war?’
Tallent shook his head. ‘I’m a damn fool to talk about this,’ he said. ‘It’s not on my record, here or at Uxbridge, and telling you won’t do me any good. I was a Corporal-fitter in the airworks.’
‘Overseas?’
‘In this country. All the war. Bomber Command. I did a circuit in 3 Group. End of the war we were shifted around, misemployed, that sort of caper. I got my ticket in ’46. My last station was Blackbushe.’ He glanced at Gently. ‘Mean anything?’
‘Not so far,’ Gently said.
‘I guess it wouldn’t,’ Tallent said. ‘Somehow it never made the papers. We had black servicemen there, West Indians, maybe a couple of hundred of them. There was trouble. We armed up, drove them out of camp.’
He locked his fingers together, squeezed.
‘It was me who triggered it off,’ he said. ‘One lunchtime a black guy beat me up. After that came the riot.’
‘I see,’ Gently said. He smoked.
‘No, you don’t see,’ Tallent said, squeezing. ‘When I walked into that bloody canteen at lunchtime it was like walking into a bucket of lightning. There were eighty, a hundred black guys standing around, one or two white blokes sitting at the tables. It stank of violence. You could smell it. It made the hair prickle on your head. I wouldn’t back out. I walked to the counter. A bloody great black thug came up and kneed me. Then he butted my face and I went down and he stood there kicking me, spitting on me. And none of the white blokes lifted a finger. Like they couldn’t see what was going on.’
Tallent breathed tightly, dragging, squeezing.
‘Next day we made the coshes,’ he said. ‘Loaded hose, bound with wire. All the workshops were turning them out. Lunchtime nobody went near the canteen. The black guys were strutting around like heroes. Then after work we set about them, sent them running and screaming like pigs. And I fixed the one that gave me the kicking. I cut him down. I smashed his skull and his ribs and his knees. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t walk. All he could do was grovel and scream. Maybe he’s going on crutches still. The rest we drove out into the fields. That was it. They never came back.’
‘And you live with it,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘You have to live with it. When I see a black face it all comes up, I have to beat him to the punch. Before that happened it was okay, I could see one of them and let him live. But not now. The beating spoiled me. One of us has to be the boss.’
‘Beating him didn’t get it out of your system.’
Tallent pulled his hands apart. ‘Nope,’ he said.
‘Would beating all of them do it?’
‘Nope,’ Tallent said. ‘Not beating all of them.’
Gently smoked. Tallent stared at his hands, leaning forward towards the desk. His lips were thin and pale. He pulled his breath in in snatches.
‘So I’m warped,’ he said. ‘I can’t help it. What I’ve been through would warp any man. If you want me off this case, okay I can understand your point.’
‘You kept going into that canteen,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘Always a sucker.’
‘So you’d better keep going with this case,’ Gently said.
Tallent’s head jerked. He said nothing.
‘Right,’ Gently said. ‘Stout will be coming up with that list of club members soon. I’d like you to get on with questioning them, seeing what they remember about Tuesday evening.’
Tallent just nodded. ‘Do
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