‘No,’ said Raymond, touching the wound gingerly, ‘my wife has not been attacking me with a beer bottle. Lily would never do that. I was hit by a stone while trying to help someone up from the pavement. It’s not the first time that’s happened, unfortunately.’
‘You’re a brave man to work here,’ complimented Keedy. ‘The East End is a jungle at times. If the kids are not hurling missiles at you, they’re trying to knock helmets off policemen on the beat. They have no respect for authority.’
‘And still less for the word of God, alas. But,’ Raymond went on, ‘you didn’t come here to discuss our mission. I take it that my brother sent you here. How can I help?’
Keedy did not need to give full details of the case in hand. Since he always kept an eye on his brother’s work, Raymond had been following its progress in the newspapers. He gave a sympathetic hearing to Keedy’s theory then opened a drawer in the table to take out a sheaf of papers. He found the relevant page.
‘This is what you need, Sergeant,’ he said.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a list of organisations — tiny groups in some cases — that try to blame the woes of the world entirely on the Jews. We don’t have pogroms here, thankfully, but we have people who conduct their own forms of persecution. If you’ve been in the police force for any length of time,’ continued Raymond, ‘then I don’t need to tell you how much immigrants have suffered in the East End.’
‘I remember the riots from years ago,’ said Keedy.
‘Russians seemed to get the worst of it because of their large numbers. Many of them had been hounded out of their own country for committing the crime of being Jews. Eastern Europe in general drove them west.’ Raymond gritted his teeth. ‘They came with nothing, Sergeant — except hope, that is. It was soon extinguished.’ He handed the list over. ‘I’ll need to keep that but you’re welcome to jot down those names.’
Keedy studied the paper. ‘Very few seem to have addresses.’
‘That’s deliberate. They move around all the time, holding meetings in different places so that they can’t be tracked.’
‘How many of these groups are still active?’
‘It’s difficult to say,’ replied Raymond. ‘Some disappear for long periods then suddenly spring back to life. And, of course, the real militants may belong to a number of groups, shifting to the one that’s planning some action at any particular time.’
‘Beatings, destruction of property, poison pen letters?’
‘All that and much more — they had a field day when the Lusitania went down. That was a signal to go really wild. German homes and businesses were the principal targets but Jewish immigrants from other countries were caught up in the wave of violence. I speak from personal experience,’ said Raymond. ‘We sheltered some of them in this very building.’
‘Have things died down now?’
‘There are still rumblings below the surface.’
Taking out his notepad, Keedy copied the list onto a blank page. When he’d finished, he handed the sheet of paper back to Raymond.
‘Thank you, Major. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘I’m always ready to assist the police.’
‘The inspector has obviously got you well trained. I hope that we’ll be in a position to help you in return one day.’
‘Oddly enough, I was about to suggest that.’
‘Oh?’
‘Do you play a musical instrument, Sergeant?’
‘No,’ said the other, ‘I’m tone deaf.’
‘Then it sounds to me as if you’re better off with a bass drum. You’re strong enough to carry it and clever enough to beat it. Can we count on you joining our band on Sunday morning?’
Keedy was alarmed. ‘Hey, now hold on a moment,’ he said, backing away. ‘I’m not volunteering for the Salvation Army.’
‘Don’t you want to save sinners with rousing music?’ asked Raymond, grinning broadly. ‘It’s very rewarding work.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, Major.’
‘Our door is always open.’
‘The inspector warned me that you’d try to recruit me.’
‘I’ve been trying to recruit Harvey for almost twenty years but he says that he has important work to do.’ He indicated the crucifix on his collar. ‘What’s more important than serving Jesus Christ?’
The detective wisely chose not to reply. Although there was a humorous note in Raymond’s voice, Keedy had no wish to be drawn into an argument with him. Even on their brief acquaintance, he could see how plausible and persuasive Major Marmion was. Keedy had been brought up in the Anglican Church but rarely attended services now. Religion was something that had gradually faded from his life. It was not the moment to rekindle it.
Raymond gave him a firm handshake and pumped his arm.
‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Keedy,’ he said.
‘The pleasure was mutual.’
‘You have a devoted admirer in the family.’
‘Oh,’ said Keedy, misunderstanding, ‘Inspector Marmion is not always full of admiration for me. If I make a mistake — and I do that from time to time — he comes down on me like a ton of bricks.’
‘I wasn’t talking about Harvey. I was referring to my niece.’
Keedy was jolted. ‘Alice?’
‘Who else? Your name often comes up when we all get together. Alice speaks very well of Joe Keedy.’
‘Thank you for telling me.’
The news brought a smile to his face and ignited a memory of their time together washing the dishes the previous Sunday. Until he turned up at the house, Keedy had forgotten how attractive Alice Marmion was. It had been months since he’d last seen her and she’d matured in the interim. It made him look forward with anticipatory delight to their next meeting. Conscious that Raymond was watching him, Keedy became serious and waved his pad.
‘This list will be extremely useful, Major,’ he said.
‘It’s not comprehensive, I fear. Old groups emerge in new forms all the time and some may consist of no more than a handful of people. Of one thing, however, I can assure you,’ said Raymond, seriously. ‘Anti-Semitism is as virulent as ever.’
They moved with speed. When the lorry drew up outside the synagogue, they jumped out and unloaded cardboard boxes filled with firewood and newspapers. The boxes were piled against the double doors. Then the man in the dungarees doused them liberally in petrol from a large can. Lighting a cigarette, he took a couple of puffs before tossing it into the biggest of the cardboard boxes. There was an immediate explosion and flames began dancing against the doors. Seconds later, the lorry sped off down the street.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ruth felt increasingly oppressed. Though the wider family was still mourning the death of Jacob Stein, they also kept a close eye on his only daughter in case she should be tempted to take her own life again. Suffocated by their love, Ruth was simultaneously worn down by their surveillance. Privacy was a thing of the past. There was always somebody there and she came to see her nearest and dearest as so many warders changing shifts outside her cell. It was her mother’s turn to be on duty that morning.
‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked, solicitously.
‘I’m fine, Mother.’
‘Did you have a better night?’
‘Not really,’ said Ruth.
‘What kept you awake?’
‘It was the usual thing.’
‘You must stop blaming yourself for what happened,’ said Miriam, gently. ‘Those two evil men were to blame — not you. They’ve both been arrested and will be convicted of the crime. Doesn’t that give you a feeling of relief?’