“That’s what I’m saying,” Buffrey shouted. “So what’s the point in even being here? If any one finds out what you have done, we will hang.”
“Well—” Hood sipped his brandy. “I suppose the diamond is still some sort of a bargaining tool. Might it be possible to reach an agreement with the Russians that could stop them from all out hostilities? We could expose their duplicity regarding their secret operations over here. How much will they concede to keeping us quiet?”
Hood’s words were wise, their logic possible. The capture of Konstantin Raevsky at the Embassy, and the resultant discovery of The Third Section in Southwark had been a surprise and a revelation, notwithstanding Hood’s and William’s earlier suspicions, but it didn’t alter the fact that they still hadn’t recovered the diamond. The Southwark shop was empty when his men raided.
“Very little I’m afraid. In their eyes, the past is irrelevant. Our only chance of keeping this business quiet is by getting the diamond back.”
“Well that’s it then.” Buffrey staggered to his feet, his bloated face red with fear. Hood had told him the saga of Buffrey’s panic at the Embassy, and it looked as if a repeat performance might be imminent. Forewarned, he’d had time to prepare.
“I don’t want anything more to do with it,” Buffrey gabbled. “It’s pointless sitting here talking. We’ll never get the diamond back. Gentlemen, I relinquish my membership of The Brotherhood. I’m leaving.” He fumbled his brandy, and some of it spilled on the rug as he slid the glass onto the mantelpiece and made for the door. “I’m leaving.”
“If you go I shall kill you.”
Buffrey jolted to a stop at The Chief’s words. “What?”
“If you go I shall kill you.” He rested his hands on the chair arms. He didn’t relish the prospect of bringing down the Judge, such a big man to overpower. Hood, he hoped, might help.
“Kill me? You can’t kill me.”
“I can and I will.” He stood.
“It’s—it’s not— Have you gone mad? You can’t—” Buffrey waved his hands in confusion. He looked to Hood for some sort of explanation.
The Chief cracked his fingers. “Membership of The Brotherhood is for life. To give it up requires your death. That is the only way out.”
“But—but—why can’t I?”
Hood sprang to his feet and took the Judge’s arm. “Come, come, Buffrey. You’re tired and overwrought. We all are.” He dragged him back to the fireside. “We have reached a delicate moment when time and circumstance are against us. But we need to press on. Don’t let fearful thoughts overwhelm your commitments to The Brotherhood. We need you.”
Buffrey’s hands shook with the violence of a palsy sufferer. “I can’t do it—I’m—it’s I’m—scared.” He burst into tears.
Hood’s eyes rose in resigned despair. He retrieved the Judge’s brandy and pressed the glass into his hands. “Sit down.”
The Chief regarded how hopeless the man was when faced with the reality of a dangerous situation. William’s betrayal had left The Brotherhood in tatters, and he couldn’t allow it to fragment any further.
“For goodness sakes,” he exclaimed. “Straighten up. Of course you can’t just walk out. What are you thinking?” He bent down, his face level with the Judge’s. “We have lost the diamond. The Brotherhood works to keep it safe, and we have to try and get it back. That is what we are here for. This is not the time to have a fit of hysterics at the first whiff of trouble.”
“But suppose we…”
“Suppose nothing. At a time of increased diplomatic tension we have every reason to question the Russian’s whenever and wherever we like. I took the decision to question them outside London as a simple precaution against interruptions or distractions.”
“But the soldiers?”
“A necessary safeguard against trouble.”
“But suppose the Russian wife tells—?” Brandy slopped out of Buffrey’s glass and into his lap.
“Tells who what?” interrupted The Chief.
“The newspapers, that you kidnapped her to recover the diamond.”
This problem, and it was a possibility, he had solved. To speak the words would clarify their effectiveness, if this situation became public knowledge. He stood straight and affected a look of confused surprise.
“That’s a preposterous story. What diamond? What does a diamond have to do with the crisis in the Holy Lands? I’ve never heard of the Russian White.”
Buffrey gawped in disbelief. Perhaps the Judge wasn’t the brightest target on which to practice this deceit, still, he persevered. “The Ambassador’s wife must be off her chump. Send for Doctor Hood and clap her in Bedlam.”
Buffrey swallowed, and the fear in his face lessened.
The Chief ceased his pretence, confident that such an approach might work. “Nobody knows about the diamond,” he concluded.
“No but Chief—”
“Nobody will believe what she says. She’s a Russian, an enemy. The sooner we’re shot of her the better, that’s what people will say.”
“But somebody might find out.”
His patience evaporated at wasting such valuable time. “Oh for goodness sakes! Nobody will find out unless one of us goes to the newspapers. And even then, who is going to listen to some crackpot story about a missing diamond and the spreading of the Orthodox faith in the Holy Lands. And quite honestly, who is going to care? Nobody knows anything about the Russian White. We know how serious it is, and we know what we have to do to remedy it.”
“All the same—”
“Enough.” He raised his hand and Buffrey spluttered into his brandy, but stayed quiet.
Hood wandered over to the window, apparently unworried by the terrors that consumed the Judge. He hoped he had the Doctor’s support. So far, his loyalty to this crisis had been admirable, though he had his moments of doubt about Hood. That evening at the Club; he feared a conspiracy between him and William, yet Hood’s unbelievable shock at William’s deceit convinced him that his reaction was genuine, and his heartless stripping of William’s assets confirmed it. Hood’s commitment to The Brotherhood was, he thought, still strong.
He joined him by the window, and gazed across the Terrace and the Park beyond. The light had faded, and grey clouds flew overhead, driven by a keen wind that shook the foliage on the trees and shrubs in fitful gusts.
“Our stay here must be short. My secretary will tell Parliament that I am away on private business, but I can only spare two days at the most.”
Hood sighed. “I don’t see the point in being here at all. It’s clear that the Russian Ambassador has the diamond.”
“Maybe, but I need to be sure of that. And we might learn his whereabouts.”
“Well let’s get on with it then.” The Doctor put down his glass. “Who do you want me to question first?”
“Isobel, and I’ll tackle that Konstantin fellow.” He had the situation under control. Energy ignited his blood with new keenness, and his heart beat with building excitement. He spun on his heel and faced the Judge.
“And as for you—” Buffrey jumped as if he’d been slapped. “Go with the Doctor. I can’t let you loose on them until you stop blubbing.”
Chapter Thirty One
Peggy knelt in the dumb waiter and pulled the rope, hand over hand, to lower it down the dark shaft. How far till she reached the kitchens in the basement?
The wooden box rocked, and sometimes it bumped against the stone wall. Her wrists hurt, and she stopped pulling to give herself a rest. It was pitch-black.
The rope creaked, and the box slipped sideways and hit the wall with a loud clunk. She blocked out the thought of the deep drop below and remembered instead all the laden dishes hauled up and down these same ropes to Sylvia’s bedroom every day. Their weight must be heavier than her tiny frame.