Chapter 5

“Jimmy, you still manage to confuse me with phrases that don’t mean anything to me. What does ‘hoist by my own petard’ mean?”

“Oh. It is quite simple and straightforward when you learn the word. In medieval French times, a petard was a small bomb used for blowing open a city’s wooden gate from the outside. Someone had to run to the gate, place it in position and light the fuse. If you as the bombsetter got it wrong, it blew back on you, throwing you into the air: that is what was meant by ‘hoist’ back then. So the phrase meant blowing yourself up with your own bomb.”

“Another way of saying ‘acting stupidly’, then?”

“Sort of like that, Charlotte. Throwing in a French phrase, or a phrase from French, makes you appear more erudite by your use of exotic language. It is really just affectation, but it sounds good to those not in the know about its original meaning.”

“You are staying off work again today?”

“That is the plan, Charlotte; stay away until fully recovered, was the instruction from Chairman Yeats.”

“Right. Fully recovered will mean able to make love to us all, then?”

Uncertain where this was going, with trepidation I replied cautiously, “I think so.”

“Fine, then we can start testing you today. Will you make love to me as soon as you feel up to it?”

“It will be up to me to decide, then?”

“Yes. You’ve got breakfast in front of you; get to it, my man.”

After eating my toast and washing it down with hot tea, I admitted to myself that I felt a lot better. When Charlotte returned to collect my empties, I told her of the improvement and she squealed, “Great! I have been horny for the last few days. You were right about pregnant women looking for more sex than before. The other girls are still asleep, so you can come with me to bed and fuck me until I squeal ‘Enough’.”

She grabbed my hand and dragged me upstairs as fast as I would allow. She was determined to get me to perform to her satisfaction. I managed to do that, just, and Charlotte forced me up to shower afterwards.

When they got back to the kitchen, with Charlotte hugging me as much as she could, we met Flora and Lily, the twin daughters of Bob Yeats. They took one look at Charlotte and Lily exclaimed, “You didn’t? You got him to fuck you?”

Charlotte simply grinned her satisfaction at her. They nodded to each other. Flora concluded, “She did. Jimmy, are you up to doing the two of us today?”

I rolled my eyes and said, “If you are prepared to wait. I need time to recover from being ravaged by Charlotte. She was insatiable.”

A few minutes later, Marjory appeared, fully dressed and ready for a day at work. She looked around at the other three, and pointedly asked me, “Feeling more frisky today, are we?”

“Yes, dear. You are dressed so you get to go to work unsullied.” I smiled as I spoke, so she knew she was being joshed. “Feed me, Charlotte,” she demanded. “I need sustenance to go all day without any loving from Jimmy.”

Charlotte had the fry pan sizzling away with bacon, breakfast sausage, an egg and two half tomatoes, with a batch of hash browns and some biscuits in the oven to share around all those who were having a fry today.

Offered the full range, Marjory decided, “I’ll skip the hash browns this morning, Charlotte. I don’t want to get fat.”

Charlotte quipped, “But you don’t mind a pregnant bulge, Marjory!”

“That’s a different ball game, Charlotte. That is not fat, it will be a love bulge, just like yours.”

Charlotte ran a hand over her obviously swelling belly, and smiled happily.

As she placed Marjory’s plate in front of her, they were interrupted by the arrival of Sharl and Cherry, groaning slightly.

“Don’t tell me you both have morning sickness?” said Charlotte.

“Just a little,” Sharl told her. “I’ll have toast and black coffee this morning. Same for you, Cherry?”

When Cherry agreed with her, she went on, “Someone else had best chauffeur Marjory to work. Are you up to driving her today, Jimmy?”

I suddenly brightened.

“That might be possible, as long as you don’t expect me to cross the front door there. I’ll drop you and come straight back, Marjory.”

“That will suit me, darling. The office are used to me walking in by myself at the moment. They have stopped asking where Mr Hargreaves is. They are now fully aware he is off ill.”

I informed them all, “Don’t work on me being available for sex at any specific time, girls. I may get phone calls at any time through the work day, as I am officially working from home.”

Lily declared, “They won’t expect you to answer your phone at lunchtime, Jimmy. We can have sex then. Sharl and Cherry will not be feeling like having sex today, I expect.”

Cherry moaned, “I would love to have sex, but I can throw up at any time, and Jimmy would not like the result...”

Sharlene commiserated, “I know what you mean and agree that sex is not practical for us two today.”

I quickly got dressed and drove Marjory to work, giving her a pecked kiss as she left the car. She leaned back in to kiss me passionately before leaving, saying, “Remember me for your schedule, darling.”

She rushed off to enter the building, and I steered the car out of the office parking area and off home. I was back home before anyone would have assumed me to be available for work questions. Getting indoors, I asked Charlotte for a repeat of earlier: toast and hot tea. She was happy to oblige, and it stayed down.

The rest of the morning was pleasantly quiet, and it was afternoon before I got my first phone call. It came from the Copies representative at the warehouse hangar, Jack Spratt, who was supervising delivery of parts from the defunct engineering company.

“Mr Hargreaves?”

I admitted to that identity.

“Jack Spratt of Copies. I am at the new warehouse on the airfield, and I have had a query from the movers. It seems when they were lifting crankshafts into their removal truck that they thought something was excessively heavy. They asked me about them, so I assured them that crankshafts are about fifty per cent heavier than if they were made entirely from steel. Part of their construction is made from tungsten, to make the balancing correct and stop rough running of the engine.

The moving man said he was told that was the reason, but why was one a bit heavier than the rest? There were about fifteen and only one is excessively heavy, they said.”

I responded, “That sounds most peculiar, Mr Spratt. Have you had an opportunity to make a close examination of the offending item?”

“Yes, once the movers had unloaded all their stuff and departed. I had a close look and the dimensions were exactly the same as the others. What struck me was that the surface looked more like paint than metal. You know how metal paint has a slightly odd look to it; a smoothness of the surface that comes from paint and is not there with solid metal? Metal always has a few imperfections.”

“Now that I think about it, yes, you’re right. So why are you ringing me about it, if it is a fake, made of lead. Just junk it if that is the case.”

“It is not quite that simple, sir, and I am told you are the one to contact about oddities.”

“Well, not about every oddity. I don’t advise on counterfeit goods, as this appears to be.”

“If it was a fake, that would be simple, but I ran my penknife over the surface, and the metal paint scraped off a little and revealed a gold tinge below.”

“Gold? Are you sure?” I questioned.

“Not one hundred per cent, no. It might be a gold coating, covering a lead object, but why then paint it with gray metal paint?”

I started to worry about what this might be.

I told Spratt, “I think I should come over and have a look at it with you, if I am careful; I am not too well at present. Do you have an accurate weighing machine there?”

“No. There is at least one back at Copies. Do you want it brought here?”

“That would be sensible, if we are going to get to the bottom of this puzzle. I’ll jump into my car and be there in about 25 minutes, if the traffic permits. You see what Copies can do about weighing machines.”

I called to the girls, “I have to go out for a short while, ladies. I’ll be at the air base for an hour or so. I’ll ring to let you know when I’ll be back home.”

On the way there, my mind was whirling. What if it was genuinely gold? It would be worth a fortune! Why would you hide a load of gold in a warehouse, and disguise it as a car crankshaft? Then my mind did a quick turnabout as it switched to a new query: Why did the firm go out of business? Was someone an embezzler? I would need to investigate that question once I had the facts right.

I got there almost on the 25-minute mark, and drove in the open hangar door, coming to a halt near the man standing beside a pile of crankshafts. Exiting the car, I shuffled slowly over to the man, determined not to exert myself unduly.

“Mr Spratt? Jimmy Hargreaves. Pleased to meet you.”

We shook hands.

“Hi, Mr Hargreaves. The set of scales is on its way on a truck, and the boss is hopping mad about losing the use of it, even if temporarily. It was only when I told him that Mr Hargreaves wanted it here for a special measurement, that he calmed down. I hope we get a decent result from this, sir.”

“So do I, Jack. Call me Jimmy. It is less formal. Show me the offending object.”

Spratt pointed it out, and I applied the same test to another surface on the crankshaft. Sure enough, the paint was scratched to reveal a gold colour. It looked to me for all the world like real gold.

I asked Spratt, “What is the normal expected weight of a crankshaft, Jack?”

The man answered, “As best I can recall, it must be approaching 70 pounds, but they vary according to length and intended usage. Some are made for a specific engine model.”

“That will do for a ball park figure. Now how much of a crankshaft is tungsten?”

“That varies a lot, depending on the number of rods and total length.”

“But less than 100 per cent?”

“Oh, yes, a lot less. Why?”

“Bear with me. Am I right in thinking that tungsten and gold have similar densities?”

“Yes, they are almost the same.”

“So, if this crankshaft is comprised entirely of gold, or even all tungsten, it will weigh more than a normal crankshaft of the same dimensions?”

“Yes.”

“And have we another crankshaft of identical dimensions, so that we can compare the two?”

“Yes, two more actually, of the same manufacturer.”

“Therefore, if we weigh any of the normal ones, they should all be the same weight; and if the suspect one is much heavier than expected, it must be denser throughout and not just where tungsten is used in the design, right?”

“Correct. That is what I would conclude.”

“Then either the gold surface is gold plating on top of solid tungsten, or the entire mass is gold.”

“Solid gold? Good God!”

“Yes. At a guesstimate, if that crankshaft is solid gold, it is worth over a million and a half.”

Spratt gulped, and said, “The sooner that weighing machine gets here, the better. But who does the crankshaft belong to?”

I pursed my lips in thought before stating, “Legally, us. The Yeats Group purchased the shelving plus all the products sitting on the shelves, including the stuff that is now sitting in front of us, so quite clearly it belongs to the Yeats Group. What is more puzzling is, where the hell did it come from? Who put it on the shelving, and effectively hid it from view? I see no functional reason for a solid tungsten crankshaft, or a reason to hide it. Gold makes more sense.”

There was the sound outside of a truck horn. The two of us walked to the door to find a truck with a solidly-built set of industrial scales loaded. The driver demanded, “Who needs this fucking machine? I was pulled off another job to bring it here, to be delivered to a Mr Hargreaves. Is one of you Hargreaves?”

“That’s me,” I admitted. “Tell me, can you operate that weighing machine while it is still on the track?”

The driver stared back and challenged, “Well, you can operate it from the truck bed, I think, but it is easy to lift it off for floor use. I am a driver, so it has nothing to do with me.”

I said pleadingly, “I have been ill. If you have seen it working, can you perhaps guide us poor weak fools?”

Feeling on top of things, the driver said, “Yeah. It is simple enough, and not that heavy. The thing comes with its own battery pack, so you just follow the on-screen instructions. The two of you can heave the platform off the truck to where you want it, and there is the control unit attached.”

I asked, “In that case, can you run your truck inside to where the pile of crankshafts are sitting? We need to weigh some crankshafts, you see.”

The now obliging driver stepped back into his cab, while Jack and I walked back to where the crankshafts lay, and stood pointing to the pile, so the driver could see where he was wanted. Getting there, he left me and Jack to pull the platform off the open bed, while he lifted the control unit for us. That was the easy job.

We quickly had the machine in place, and Jack indicated the three crankshafts that were to be weighed. The two of us were able to lift the first shaft onto the platform for weighing, while Jack measured, then I pulled a notebook from my pocket and wrote up the results in pounds. We removed the first shaft and replaced it with shaft two, and got the same weight. Finally we heaved the suspicious one onto the platform scales and the readout was distinctly heavier.

That confirmed it for Jack and me. This crankshaft had to be either solid gold or solid tungsten, and solid tungsten would be pointless as a working unit or any other rational possibility, so it had to be solid gold in disguised form.

I looked at my companion. “Mr Spratt, do we need the scales for anything else?”

“I had no other comments from the movers about items being heavier or lighter than expected, so my belief is that this is the only example we needed to measure. The driver can take the scales back to where he got them.”

The driver was happy to hear this, and reluctantly helped Jack and me load the scales set back aboard his truck.

He told them, “The guys I got this from need to have it back for weighing stuff they will have to load for moving to here, they told me, so they want the scales back as soon as possible. The only reason you got them was because Mr Davis insisted that if you needed them, Mr Hargreaves, there was a good reason, one which was essential for the business. What makes you so special, Mr Hargreaves?”

“I have no idea, my friend. I just do my job as best I can, and the results have been beyond my expectations. Put it down to hard work and beauty!”

The driver said, dubiously, “Well, my hard work has not got me far yet, and beauty I don’t have; neither have you!”

I volunteered, “Well, perhaps my attitude helped a little. I never said, ‘It’s not my job,’ at any time. I also helped my boss with problems from time to time, so helpfulness may have had a hand in it too.”

The driver scowled at this unexpected response, but as he drove away with the reloaded scales he reflected a little more on Jimmy’s words. Jack Spratt was busy concealing his glee at the altercation.

Back at the hangar/warehouse, I told Jack Spratt, “This is a peculiar find, Jack. I need to learn a lot more about the company that went bust. If they had a large hunk of gold just sitting in their stores, why did they go broke?”

I retrieved my phone and dialled through to the Yeats Group, asking for Neil Gow. When I was put through, I quizzed him.

“Neil, do you know what was the reason for that company to go out of business? Was it bad trading conditions, or what?”

“No, it was simpler than that. It was wholly-owned by one man, and he took a heart attack in his office; just collapsed and died before anyone could do anything to help. With the sole owner dead, the business immediately went into administration. Everything stopped, and the liquidators were called in and tasked with finding a buyer. If no buyer could be found, it was a case of selling off the assets for the man’s estate. That was the state of things when we stepped in with our offer for the shelving. The business was completely halted, and the staff sent home. Later the staff were all paid off by the liquidators, for there was no work for them to do; they were just a drain on the remaining assets. The liquidators took over the office and looked at how best to realise funds.”