The Railway Viaduct

The interrogation took place in Thomas Brassey's office. It was obvious that Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy had no idea who had sponsored their work from England. They were mere underlings who obeyed orders from Pierce Shannon. Accordingly, the three of them were taken away and held in custody. On the following morning, they would be handed over to the French police. Shannon sat in a circle of light provided by a number of oil lamps. Colbeck and Mulryne were present but it was Edward Tallis who insisted on interrogating their prisoner. Hands behind his back, he stood over Shannon.

'Who paid you?' he asked.

'Nobody,' replied the other, rubbing his aching jaw.

'Don't lie to me. Somebody suborned you. Somebody told you to bring this railway to a halt. Who was it?'

'Nobody.'

'So you did everything of your own volition, did you?'

'What's that mean?'

'That it was all your own idea, Pierce,' explained Mulryne.

'Yes, that's right.'

'So why did you do it?' said Tallis.

Shannon gave a defiant grin. 'Fun.'

'Fun? Is it your notion of fun to cause extensive damage to the property of the man who is employing you? Is it your notion of fun to put the thousands of men on this site out of work?'

'Yes.'

'He's a bleeding liar, sir,' said Mulryne.

'Keep out of this,' ordered Tallis.

'But I know the truth. Liam told me. That's Liam Kilfoyle. He's the scrawny one that fell into your arms like an amorous woman when you came in here. Liam reckons this man met up with Pierce and offered him money to wreck this railway – a lot of money. Enough to let them all retire.'

'And who was this man?'

'Liam didn't know.' He pointed at Shannon. 'But he does.'

'Shut your gob!' snarled Shannon.

Mulryne laughed. 'Compliments pass when the quality meet.'

'If I'd known you were a fucking traitor, I'd have killed you.'

'You're in no position to kill anyone,' Tallis reminded him. 'Now stop playing games and answer my questions. Who paid you and why did he want this railway to be abandoned? He's the man who dragged you into all this? Do you want him to get off scot-free?'

'Yes,' said Shannon.

'Who paid you, man?'

'Nobody.'

'Tell me, damn you!'

'I just did.'

'Give me a name.'

'Pierce Shannon. Would you like another? Queen Victoria.'

'I'd like you to tell me the truth.'

'I have.'

'Who is behind all this?'

'Nobody.'

Shannon was beginning to enjoy the situation. Resentful at being caught, and infuriated by Mulryne's part in his capture, he was at least getting some pleasure out of frustrating Tallis. No matter how hard the superintendent pressed him, he would volunteer nothing that could be remotely helpful. Tallis kept firing questions at him with growing vexation. Eventually, Colbeck stepped in.

'Perhaps I could take over, sir,' he suggested.

'It's like trying to get blood from a stone,' said Tallis.

'Then let me relieve you.'

'If you wish.'

Tallis withdrew reluctantly to a corner of the room and watched.

Colbeck brought a chair and placed it directly in front of Shannon. He sat down so that he was very close to him.

'When I first came to France,' he told Shannon, 'I brought my assistant with me – Sergeant Victor Leeming.'

'I knew he was a bleeding copper,' said the other with derision. 'I could smell him. I enjoyed beating him up.'

'I'm glad you mention beating someone up because that's the subject I was just about to raise with you. Would you describe your friends – Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy – as violent men?'

'They're Irish – they like a decent brawl.'

'The same goes for me,' said Mulryne, happily.

'I'm only interested in Mr Shannon's friends,' said Colbeck. 'At least, they're his friends at the moment. That, of course, may not last.'

Shannon was guarded. 'What are you on about?'

'The contents of your pockets.'

'Eh?'

'When we searched you earlier, you were carrying a large amount of money. A very large amount, as it happens. Where did it come from, Mr Shannon?'

'That's my business.'

'No,' said Colbeck, 'it's our business as well. And it's certainly the business of your three friends. We searched them as well, you see, and they had substantially less money on them. Even allowing for the fact that they had spent some of it on drink, they were clearly paid far less than you for any work that they did.' He turned to Mulryne. 'How much were you paid for tipping over those wagons?'

'A week's wages,' replied Mulryne.

'Mr Shannon had over two years' wages in his pocket, Brendan. Unless, that is, Mr Brassey has been particularly philanthropic. What this all indicates to me is that one person held on to most of the money he'd been paid while the other three were deprived of their fair share. That's robbery. What do you think the others would do to Mr Shannon if they knew the truth?'

'Break every bleeding bone in his body, Inspector.'

'That's the least they'd do, I should imagine.'

'I earned that money,' insisted Shannon. 'I had the brains to plan things. The others are all fucking boneheads.'

'I'll pass on that charming description of their mental powers when I talk to them,' said Colbeck, smoothly, 'and I must thank you for admitting that you were, after all, paid by someone else.' He flicked a glance at Tallis. 'Our first trickle of blood from the stone.'

Shannon sat up. 'I'm not saying another fucking word.'

'Then you're throwing away any hope of defending yourself. When we hand you over to the French police, you'll be charged under their law and in their language. When you get into court,' Colbeck went on, 'you won't understand a single word of what's going on so you'll be unable to offer anything by way of mitigation.'

'What's that?'

'It's a way of shortening the sentence you're likely to get. If you claim – as you did earlier – that everything that happened was your idea, then you'll face several years in prison. If, on the other hand, you were simply obeying someone else's orders – and if you tell us who that someone is – your sentence might be less severe. In fact, I'd make a point of telling the French police how helpful you've been.'

'And he'd tell them in French,' said Mulryne, proudly. 'He speaks the lingo. Doesn't he, Superintendent?'

'Yes,' said Tallis.

'What about you, sir? Do you speak French?'

'I'd never let it soil my lips.'

'To sum up,' said Colbeck, bestowing a bland smile on Shannon, 'it's a pity that you've elected to hold your tongue. You might need it to plead for mercy when we lock you up with your friends and tell them about the monetary arrangements you decided upon. When you get to court, however,' he went on, 'you can talk all you like to no effect because they won't bother to hire interpreters for someone who was caught red-handed committing a crime. Expect a long sentence, Mr Shannon – after your friends have finished with you, that is.' He stood up. 'Let's take him over there, Brendan.'

'With pleasure,' said Mulryne.

'Wait!' cried Shannon, as they each laid a hand on him. 'There was someone who put us up to this.'

'Now we're getting somewhere,' said Colbeck.

'But I don't know his name.'

'Do you expect us to believe that?'

'It's true, Inspector – I'd swear on the fucking gospel.'

'There's no need for blasphemy!' shouted Tallis. 'Keep a civil tongue in your head.'

'You must have known who this man was,' said Colbeck. 'How did he get in touch with you in the first place?'

'I was in a police cell,' admitted Shannon. 'Only for a week or so. There was an affray at a tavern in Limehouse and I got caught up in it by mistake. Anyway, this man read about it in the paper and saw that I was a navvy. He came to see me and asked me if I'd ever worked for Tom Brassey. That's how it all started.'

'Go on,' invited Colbeck.