“I suppose you’d better keep me informed,” he said unhappily. “Somebody has to fight for the men. God knows, two of them are dead and more could follow.” He met Pitt’s eyes defiantly. “I’m not going to let them be murdered, blown apart, burned and crippled, then when they can’t speak for themselves, blamed for it as well.”
Pitt hesitated only a moment. If he allowed Tellman to get away with that insult, something would be lost between them.
“Is that what you are suggesting I am going to do, Inspector Tellman?” he asked quietly.
Long tense seconds of silence hung in the room before Tellman answered.
“That possibility won’t arise…sir,” he said. He gave a curt nod and walked out.
Pitt leaned back in his chair feeling acutely miserable. He had had no choice but to inform Tellman of the general situation, because it could be part of the case. In fact, at the moment it was the only lead they had. But he had not handled it well.
His last visitor of the day was completely unexpected, and did not come to Special Branch in Lisson Grove, but was waiting for Pitt when he finally arrived home at Keppel Street. He had barely got through the front door and hung his wet coat on the rack in the hall when Charlotte came out of the parlor. He knew the instant he saw her face that something was disturbing her.
She smiled, but there was a warning in her eyes. She came forward and kissed him gently, just a moment of sweetness he would dearly like to have clung on to, but she pulled away.
“Jack has come to see you,” she said almost under her breath. “There is something about which he is deeply concerned. I’ll leave you to talk to him in the parlor. The fire is burning up well and there is sherry, if you want to pour him a little. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And after a moment of meeting his eyes again, she turned and went down the corridor and around the short corner into the kitchen.
Pitt opened the parlor door and felt the warmth of the familiar room close around him. It was quiet, full of pictures of the family, ornaments they had collected over the years. The picture over the mantel was a good reproduction of a Vermeer painting of a quiet harbor with sailing vessels and Dutch quayside buildings against a gentle sky.
The curtains over the French doors to the garden were drawn, keeping out the winter.
Jack Radley stood near the mantelshelf, handsome, well dressed as always. Whether he was at his ease or not, he always managed to look it. He had a natural grace. He straightened up as Pitt came in and closed the door.
“Sorry to call without warning,” Jack said. His smile was slight, and worried.
Pitt went over to the decanter on the side table and without asking poured two glasses of sherry. He did not particularly like it, and he took less for himself, but it gave him time to order his thoughts. Jack Radley was the second husband of Charlotte’s younger sister, Emily. He had begun as a remarkably handsome and charming young man about town with good breeding and absolutely no money. The fortune was Emily’s, inherited from her first husband, Lord Ashworth.
But Jack had taken his opportunities very seriously. He had worked hard to become a member of Parliament, fighting for a seat on his merit rather than accepting a safe one where he could afford to be idle. He had earned his present position in the Foreign Office. In fact, he had been extremely unfortunate not to be in an even higher one. A misjudgment, a loyalty betrayed, had robbed him of a position his diligence warranted.
He sipped his sherry. “Thanks. Rotten night. Feels like January already. I’m sorry to disturb you. You must be frantic with this appalling bombing.” It sounded like a casual remark, but Pitt knew it was not. Jack was becoming politically adept. Beneath the charm, he seldom wasted words.
“Indeed,” Pitt nodded. “I imagine you would much prefer to be at home with Emily. So what brings you here?”
Jack smiled sincerely this time. “Can’t waste time playing diplomatic games with you, can I, Thomas? Very well. To the point. I heard you spoke to Alexander Duncannon today. Whether it has anything to do with this bombing at Lancaster Gate or not, people will assume that it has. That has to be taking all your time and attention right now.”
“Of course. Yes, I went to see Duncannon. Why does that concern you?”
“Are you aware of who his father is?”
“No. Nor do I care.”
“Then you had better begin caring.” Jack’s smile had vanished and his face was marked with concern. There were lines Pitt had not noticed before around his eyes and mouth.
“Why?” Pitt said levelly.
Jack kept his temper with difficulty. “Thomas, don’t pretend you are naive. You’ve been in high office long enough to know that things are seldom that simple. I’m not asking you to lie, or to let a guilty man go, or arrest an innocent one-just wait a few days-a week maybe…”
“Wait for what?” Pitt asked.
“Until a certain contract of major importance has been negotiated,” Jack replied. “I can’t exaggerate how much it matters. It is with a provincial government in China, concerning the establishment of a free port on the China Sea. The boost to trade will be immeasurable. In Britain thousands of people will benefit. The work it will promote will make them richer and safer-once this contract is signed. That’s all I can tell you, so please don’t push me for more.”
“Why on earth should I hold up the investigation of a bombing because of that?” Pitt asked curiously. “I don’t see any connection.”
“Godfrey Duncannon is the only man who has the skills and the connections to negotiate it successfully. If his son is under investigation, or there is even a suggestion of it, it will handicap him enough to jeopardize the whole matter. The Chinese don’t trust us easily, which after the Opium Wars is hardly surprising! I wouldn’t trust us.”
“Replace him with someone else,” Pitt said. “Let him advise them from somewhere where he isn’t seen. They can report to him, and he can put his knowledge there, without anyone knowing.”
Jack lost patience. “For God’s sake, Thomas! It’s his standing, his reputation, his charm that matters! Of course we’ve got other people who could be schooled to say and do the right things. I could do it myself, with a bit of guidance. But I don’t have Godfrey’s personal connections. He’s spent a lifetime making friends, building up a network of obligations and debts of honor and gratitude within China. That sort of thing takes time, which we haven’t got if we go back to the beginning.”
Pitt hesitated.
“We need Duncannon,” Jack insisted. “I’ve no idea if his son has anything to do with the case or not. It’s possible he could have got himself caught up on the fringes. Solve it without his help. Or leave it a week or two until the treaty is sealed. Please!”
“I’m not sure that I can,” Pitt said slowly, searching for words as he went. “If the rest of the investigation comes back to him, I can’t tell the police not to question him.”
Jack’s face was tense, his voice hard-edged. “What can he tell you? That someone he spoke to bragged that he knows where to get dynamite? You’ll get that through another source. Don’t tell me you only follow up one man. You must have men in every cell of anarchists worth bothering with. Even I know about the Autonomy Club. You must know of a dozen other such places. Alexander Duncannon might be the easiest source for you to question, and the safest. He’s a damaged young man in plain sight, and you can go and find him without having to look. He had a bad accident and is still vulnerable. Leave him alone, Thomas. Get the same information somewhere else.”
Pitt saw the anxiety in Jack’s face and knew there was far more that he was unable to say. But was it because of the contract that he could not go into detail, or was it his own stake in the matter? Jack had made too many serious errors of judgment over the last few years. He had done no more than any other man in his place might have, but the results had been on the brink of catastrophic. Treason and murder had been involved. Jack was a diplomat, not a member of Special Branch. He had trusted people everyone else had also seen as above suspicion, and been wrong, but he had been close to these men; had worked hand in glove with them. It was Pitt who had learned the truth, and put together the pieces that formed a far different picture.