“Let go of me,” Kaz said, digging in his heels. “I must pack my belongings if I am to go to London.” Kaz and I looked at each other, neither of us understanding what was happening. Kaz looked stunned as the MP held his arm.
“No need, Lieutenant,” the MP said as he pulled Kaz toward a waiting staff car. “Your suitcase is in the automobile. We are leaving immediately.” With an MP on either arm, all Kaz could do was shrug helplessly as they led him away.
“You’ve got someone waiting inside, Captain Boyle,” Morris said. His eyes flicked up and down the street, then settled on the automobile carrying Kaz back to London as it drove away. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and I could make out the bulge of a revolver on his right. “Don’t worry, lad, I won’t shoot. A friendly visit inside, that’s all.”
“Who are you?” I asked. Not a traveling salesman, that was for sure.
“Whoever I need to be,” Morris answered. “Now go inside and see Mr. Flowers. He’ll direct you.” I went to pass the MP, who was standing at parade rest like he was guarding a military headquarters. He put out his arm and asked for my weapon. Reluctantly, I handed it over and went inside. Flowers stood in the hallway, his hands stuffed in his pockets, showing the same telltale bulge. His face was stern, a far cry from the visage of the friendly banker. He nodded toward a small room off the dining area and bar, and I entered.
Inside, seated next to a coal fire burning low in the fireplace, was the man who had made Major Cosgrove sweat, sipping a glass of sherry.
“Ah, Captain Boyle,” he said, in a quiet voice drenched in authority. “Please sit down.”
“Not that I have a choice, with your goons outside the door,” I said, sitting across from him. He had a strong chin, thin lips curved into a slight smile, and lively eyes that drilled into mine. He was well dressed in civvies, worn but with a faintly academic air, like a distracted professor who didn’t quite pay attention while knotting his tie. He was trim, in good shape for a fellow with strands of grey in his close-cropped hair.
“Goons. I rather like that. Yes, I do have goons, Captain. They come in handy from time to time.”
“Who are you, and why am I here?”
“We’re in no rush, Captain Boyle. Let us take a moment and get to know each other.”
“Names are a big help. See, you know mine, and isn’t that useful for carrying on a conversation?”
“Not here,” he said, waving his hand. “Not that names wouldn’t be useful, but the walls have ears, as they say, and I keep my own secrets.”
“Okay,” I said, figuring my next move. “So we’re talking about secrets. Whose?”
“His Majesty’s, of course. The deepest and darkest secrets of the war, perhaps.”
“There are a lot of dark secrets in this war, Professor,” I said. “Professor? Why do you say that? I am simply a government bureaucrat.”
“You have the look, that’s all. And most bureaucrats have a paunch by your age. You have a healthy look that doesn’t come from sitting in a government office year-round. So a professor at some swank college, where maybe you played rugby when you were a student.”
“Oxford, and mainly cricket,” he said. “Charles said you were a smart one, but hard to control. Seems like he was right on both counts.”
“Major Cosgrove? How is he?”
“Greatly weakened, I’m afraid. But resting comfortably.”
“At Saint Albans,” I said. I didn’t have to reveal I knew where Cosgrove had been taken, courtesy of Kaz and his snooping, but I needed to get an edge on this guy. His eyes widened a fraction before he resumed his pose of bemusement.
“Smart and resourceful too,” he said. “Reading your file, I am not surprised at your capabilities, Captain Boyle. But there is a streak of antagonism to authority, especially British authority, which troubles me.”
“What’s it to you?” I asked, getting impatient with this exchange. And then I realized, it was something big to him. Whatever he was leading up to, it was because he needed me. Otherwise, I’d be headed back to London between two oversized MPs right now. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, but I’d bet it was outweighed by what he needed me for.
“That’s quite to the point,” he said. He finished his sherry and set the glass down, then sat quietly, his fingers steepled in a thoughtful pose. Maybe for a minute, but it seemed like an hour. He was deciding on me, and I let him take his time. “Let’s take a walk, Captain,” he finally said, and I followed him out of the room. Flowers handed him his overcoat, and we took the path along the canal, Morris up front, Flowers to the rear, both out of earshot.
“Are they your bodyguards?” I asked. He ignored the question.
“My name is John Masterman,” he said, glancing around to be sure there was no one nearby. The sun was right at the horizon and the wind was picking up, a chill breeze sliding along the canal. Anyone with any sense was indoors, waiting for the dark to descend. “What I am about to tell you is covered by the Official Secrets Act. You are aware of that document?”
“Sure. They had me read that my first day in England.”
“It gives us extraordinary powers to imprison you for revealing anything I say. I am certain you do not need to be reminded, given your exemplary record, but I do so to stress the seriousness of what I am about to reveal.”
“Understood, Professor Masterman,” I said, wondering what kind of rabbit hole I had fallen into.
“Even given your powers of observation, Captain Boyle, I would be surprised if you have heard of our organization. The Twenty Committee.” He spoke in a hushed voice, his head bent toward the ground. He wasn’t a man who liked giving up his secrets.
“No, I haven’t. Is Major Cosgrove a member?”
“He acts as a liaison with MI5,” Masterman said. “He was in charge of this issue, until his attack. It was he who suggested your involvement.”
“The murder of Stuart Neville, you mean.” The presence of Flowers and Morris led to that obvious but strange conclusion.
“Yes. We wanted the killing looked into, and we wanted more resources than the local constabulary offered. But we couldn’t reveal our interest in the case.” Masterman turned up his collar and checked to see if Flowers was still close behind. The sky in that direction was streaked with sunset reds and yellows. Ahead it was the dark blue of coming night.
“So I was chosen, with the cover story of being brought in because an American sergeant was in the house.”
“Correct,” Masterman said. “It was a good plan, the only drawback being you couldn’t be told the reason behind all the secrecy.”
“You mean the reason for the hands-off policy with George Miller. Is that what you were talking to Cosgrove about at Bushy Park? It looked like you were laying down the law to him.”
“Ah, the ever-observant Captain Boyle,” Masterman said. “Yes, I was telling the major that you had to be controlled. I was worried about what steps you might take, and with good reason, evidently.”
“Such as having Miller brought in for questioning?”
“That was the first thing. I sent Major Cosgrove here to make sure that did not happen again. I assume he spoke with you before he suffered the attack?”
“He did. He wasn’t happy. Are you going to tell me why?”
“Bear with me, Captain. I don’t have many opportunities these days for a stroll beside the water. It was the second breach that brought me here, by the way.”
“What breach?”
“You asked George Miller if he knew Major Cosgrove. You dressed it up quite innocently, but it told me that you were still determined to go your own way. I wanted you off the case, but Charles convinced me you could be trusted, if you knew the truth. He said it was a common American failing, this need to understand why an order was being given.”
“That sounds like him,” I said, wondering if Masterman would actually ever get around to spilling the beans. We walked a few paces in silence as I imagined him working up to telling the actual truth.