‘It was given to me, in a box. I don’t know who gave it, but I know where it is. I’ll look for “Made in Taiwan”.’
‘There were thousands made in World War Two, but they are collectors’ items now. And, of course, in Britain one can no longer buy, sell, advertise or even give such knives since the Criminal Justice Act of 1988. A collection can be confiscated. No one who owns a collection will have it on display these days.’
‘Really?’
He smiled dimly at my surprise. ‘Where have you been, young man?’
‘I live in California.’
‘Ah. That explains it. Knives of all sorts are legal in the United States. Over there, they have clubs for aficionados, and monthly magazines, and shops and shows, and also one can buy almost any knife by mail order. Here, it is illegal to make or import any knife with a point where the blade has two cutting edges and is over three inches long.’ He paused. ‘I would guess that both the trench knife the police showed me, and your putative commando knife, came here illegally from America.’
I waited a few seconds, thinking things over, and then said, ‘I’d like to draw another knife for you, if you have a piece of paper.’
He provided a notepad and I drew the Fury, giving it its name.
Derry looked at the drawing in ominous stillness, finally saying, ‘Where did you see this?’
‘In England.’
‘Who owns it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I hoped you might.’
‘No, I don’t. As I said, anyone who owns such a thing in Britain keeps it invisible and secret.’
I sighed. I’d hoped much from Professor Derry.
‘The knife you’ve drawn,’ he said, ‘is called the Armadillo. Fury is the manufacturer’s mark. It’s made of stainless steel in Japan. It is expensive, heavy and infinitely sharp and dangerous.’
‘Mm.’
After a silence, I said, ‘Professor, what sort of person likes to own such knives, even in secret? Or, perhaps, particularly in secret?’
‘Almost anyone,’ he said. ‘It’s easy to buy this knife in the United States. There are hundreds of thousands of knife buffs in the world. People collect guns, they collect knives, they like the feeling of power…’ His voice faded on the edge of personal revelation and he looked down at the drawing as if unwilling for me to see his eyes.
‘Do you,’ I asked carefully, without inflection, ‘own a collection? A collection left over, perhaps, from when it was legal?’
‘You can’t ask that,’ he said.
A silence.
‘The Armadillo,’ he said, ‘comes in a heavy black leather protective sheath with a button closure. The sheath is intended to be worn on a belt.’
‘The one I saw had no sheath.’
‘It isn’t safe, let alone legal, to carry it without a sheath.’
‘I don’t think safety was of prime importance.’
‘You talk in riddles, young man.’
‘So do you, Professor. The subject is one of innuendo and mistrust.’
‘I don’t know that you wouldn’t go to the police.’
‘And I,’ I said, ‘don’t know that you wouldn’t.’
Another silence.
‘I’ll tell you something, young man,’ Derry said. ‘If you are in any danger from the person who owns these knives, be very careful.’ He considered his words. ‘Normally knives such as these would be locked away. I find it disturbing that one was used on Newmarket Heath.’
‘Could the police trace its owner?’
‘Extremely unlikely,’ he said. ‘They didn’t know where to begin, and I couldn’t help them.’
‘And the Armadillo’s owner?’
He shook his head. ‘Thousands will have been made. The Fury Armadillo does, I believe, have a serial number. It would identify when a particular knife was made and one might even trace it to its first owner. But from there it could be sold, stolen or given several times. I cannot envisage these knives you’ve seen being allowed into the light of day if they were traceable.’
Depressing, I thought.
I said, ‘Professor, please show me your collection.’
‘Certainly not.’
A pause.
I said, ‘I’ll tell you where I saw the Armadillo.’
‘Go on, then.’
His old face was firm, his eyes unblinking. He promised nothing, but I needed more.
‘A man I knew was murdered today,’ I said. ‘He was killed in a house in Newmarket with an ordinary kitchen knife. It is his mother’s house. Last Saturday, in the same house, his mother was badly slashed by a knife, but no weapons were found. She lived, and she’s recovering in hospital. On the Heath, as I told you, we believe the star of our