by David Field
‘So what you need is for someone unlikely to look suspicious or out of place to go in there with a message that you need a meeting with Melville?’ Jack said, a horrible thought beginning to form inside his head.
‘Either Melville or one of his apes, yes. The first few contacts I made were through some bloke who enjoyed wearing disguises.’
‘What’s it look like inside that building in St. James’s Park?’ was Jack’s next question, and Percy spread his arms wide.
‘How should I know, since I’ve never been in there?’
‘Are they likely to employ women?’
Percy’s mouth opened in appreciation. ‘You’re ahead of me, Jack my boy, if you have in mind sending Esther in there, looking like a clerk or something. I’m sure they employ them in there somewhere, and a smartly dressed woman walking into a Government office wouldn’t be likely to attract any attention. All she’d need to do is leave a note from me, addressed to Melville, at what passes for their front desk. In that note I’ll ask him for a meeting, then wait for someone to contact me with the time and place. Too easy.’
‘I didn’t mention Esther,’ Jack smiled.
‘Your face did,’ Percy grinned back.
‘How do you know she’ll agree? She’s responsible for four children every day while I’m away.’
‘That’s what mothers-in-law are for,’ Percy assured him. ‘Added to which she’s got that big girl with the red hair who seems to be her fulltime domestic. What was her name again?’
‘Nell, but we can’t take Esther’s consent for granted. I’m sure that Mother would be happy to rule over the house while Nell takes Lily and Bertie to school and back, but it’s been a while since we got Esther involved in anything like this.’
Anything like what?’ Percy demanded. ‘We’re simply asking her to deliver a letter in central London, and she’d probably be glad of the day out. If you slip her some extra money, she can even go shopping in Oxford Street.’
‘I hand over all my money as it is,’ Jack advised him, ‘and I’m the one who has to pluck up the courage to ask.’
The sitting room door opened, and Beattie announced that supper was ready.
‘Is it turkey pie yet again?’ Percy asked resignedly.
Beattie shook her head. ‘We’ve eaten all that. Tonight it’s my new fish recipe.’
‘A good opportunity to polish up your courage, Jack,’ Percy grimaced as they rose dutifully from their seats by the fire and walked into the kitchen with all the enthusiasm of men trudging in manacles towards the gallows.
‘I might know that the two of you wouldn’t once consider what it’s like for me living here in isolation until you needed me for some devious scheme of your own,’ Esther pouted as Jack put the idea to her over a late supper on Friday evening. ‘Of course I’ll do it, and of course I’ll take the time to visit Oxford Street, always assuming that your mother will agree to hold the fort here for the day. It’ll cost you a new hat.’
‘I don’t need one,’ he smiled.
‘I meant for me, you idiot!’ she grinned.
‘And do you trust Nell to take the children to school and back?’
‘Of course, since she’s done it lots of times before, although I’ll get her to take Billy with her. He seems better able to control Bertie than she is, mainly because your older son gets no male influence these days.’
‘I’ll ignore that unworthy slight and ask that while you’re in London anyway you visit another lady who’s missing her man.’
‘Who said I miss you?’
‘You did, more than once in the past, and to judge by the kiss I got when I came home, you still do. But this woman hasn’t seen her man for some weeks and needs to be reassured that he’s still in the land of the living and missing her and the children.’
‘And where does she live?’
‘Wapping — a street just behind London Dock.’
Esther shuddered. ‘I might have known there’d be a catch. I hate that place.’
‘I’m not asking you to do anything dangerous,’ Jack argued. ‘It’s just that there’s a fellow police officer involved in something I can’t tell you about, and he’s not allowed to contact his wife and children until it’s all over. She needs to be reassured that he’s all right, and he needs to be reassured that she’s been reassured, if that makes sense.’
‘Insofar as anything you say makes sense, yes. And I can certainly relate to the misery of a woman with children who doesn’t see her man very often, so I’ll hold my nose, grit my teeth, and do it. But the new hat will now come with matching gloves.’
‘You asked to see me, sir?’ Percy asked as he stuck his head round the door of the office that housed Assistant Commissioner Doyle.
‘Indeed I did, Percy — come in,’ Doyle smiled back. ‘Tea?’
‘Thank you, although I can’t stay for long, given the bed of nails that I spend every day laid out on, working with my nephew to make the manpower stretch over two very demanding days in June.’
Doyle called out loudly, and when the constable occupying the desk in the corridor entered with a look of resignation, Doyle ordered tea and biscuits for two. ‘And make sure that there are plenty of ginger nuts, since they’re Inspector Enright’s favourites. Now then, Percy, how goes life on that bed of nails you just referred to? Any closer to a final manpower plan?’
‘It’s only February, sir, and the Jubilee’s in June. In any case, with the greatest respect to your office, I report directly elsewhere.’
‘Yes, Melville in Special Branch,’ Doyle reminded him. ‘But given that the task you’re engaged on is a routine police matter, my rank in here gives me a right to know how you intend to allocate my men. Where do you perceive the main danger to lurk?’
‘Clearly, in the East End on Day Two,’ Percy replied, happy to reveal that he had spotted the attempt to divert attention from Day One. ‘To be specific, the time when Her Majesty will be sitting in open view in her carriage at the foot of St Paul’s steps.’
‘Pretty obvious, I would have thought,’ Doyle replied thoughtfully as he cleared papers from his desk to make room for the tray of tea and biscuits that had just been delivered. ‘Are you sure you’re not missing anything important on Day One?’
‘That’s Sergeant Enright’s responsibility, sir. He’s tearing his hair out trying to stretch a totally inadequate number of blue uniforms along the route into Buckingham Palace, then out again on the morning of Day Two.’
‘And the State Banquet?’ Doyle enquired.
Percy frowned. ‘Haven’t even thought about that, sir. I think we’ve both been assuming that Palace security will be sufficient to take care of that.’
‘Don’t you think that we should be planning for a force of elite officers to be allocated the task of policing the inside of the Palace during that banquet, bearing in mind the number of visiting heads of state who’ll be there?’
‘You may be right, sir, but where are they to come from?’
‘Would you be prepared to let me organise that?’
‘Of course, but it will only serve to reduce our already depleted numbers on the outside.’
‘Not necessarily, Percy. You’re not the only one who’s being relied upon to guarantee the Queen’s ongoing safety, and not the only one who takes instruction from outside the Yard.’
‘Special Branch?’
‘You don’t need to know, Percy. What you need to do is to ensure that whenever you and your nephew have completed your manpower distribution plan you let me have the details, so that I can ensure that none of the men you’ve delegated to “outside” duties are among those I wish to use inside the Palace.’ When Percy’s face expressed his indecision, Doyle pressed home his agenda. ‘I realise that you regard your first priority as being that of reporting back to Melville, Percy, but how do you know he’s got the best interests of the nation at heart?’
‘He’s head of Special Branch, that’s why,’ Percy insisted by way of justificatio
n, ‘and to have achieved that position he must have passed a lot of loyalty tests.’
‘And you wouldn’t draw the same conclusion regarding an Assistant Commissioner at the Yard?’
‘It’s not that, sir,’ Percy explained with a slightly red face. ‘It’s just that — well, Melville is better placed to see the whole picture, and … well, to be frank with you, sir, he has reason to believe that the threat comes from outside the realm.’
‘That must be obvious to anyone,’ Doyle replied with a frown of his own. ‘You don’t need to have access to all the information that lands on Melville’s desk to know that nobody within this country would wish Her Majesty any harm. The problem is that Melville’s very selective about who he shares his information with, and some of us are not convinced that he has his eye on the ball. Should he be wrong, then we may all be heading for a national calamity of massive proportions — perhaps even total anarchy. But those of us who’re in a position to prevent him dropping the ball at the vital moment will finally get the recognition we deserve for being the true guardians of the nation and will be rewarded with seats at the high table when the dust’s settled. I believe that you deserve to be one of those people, Percy.’
‘What do you want of me?’
‘Simply that you share with me the information that you’ve been instructed to pass on to Melville. You and your nephew, who I may say seems more amenable to being on the winning team, to judge by his eagerness to acquire membership of a certain West End club. Presumably he’s told you about that?’
‘Only in general terms, sir,’ Percy replied, maintaining a mask of apparent concern that he hoped conveyed the impression that he felt that something was being kept from him.
‘You needn’t worry about him, Percy, since he seems to know which side his bread’s buttered. In due course he’ll have no reservation in letting those who run that club know what the manpower allocations are for the West End; so far as concerns the East End, I’m well aware of your suspicions regarding Inspector Ingram, and if you’re prepared to share your East End proposals with me, I’ll have him transferred to somewhere harmless — perhaps across the river — then you’ll have Leman Street to yourself.’
‘I can’t ask for more than that,’ Percy conceded, ‘and I’d certainly feel happier if you gave me operational control of the East End for Day Two of the Jubilee.’
‘Consider it done, Percy, and just remember to keep me advised. You can obviously continue to report to Melville, but before you do that, just make sure that I have the same inside information.’
‘I think Doyle’s bought it,’ Percy announced with a grin as the new coal crackled and spat in the fireplace between him and Jack. ‘He’s made it clear that he has no problem with me reporting to Melville, but he wants the same information from me at the same time.’
‘Will you go along with that?’
Percy’s grin widened. ‘He’ll certainly be getting some information from me, but whether or not it’s the same information that I give Melville will depend. For example, I can have one manpower plan prepared for the reality of Day Two, while slipping Doyle another one that gives the impression that we’re far less prepared than we are.’
‘And do you expect two plans from me regarding Day One? Preparing one’s proving to be almost beyond me, to be perfectly honest.’
Percy shook his head. ‘Doyle seems to think that the people who’ll want to see your plan will be those in that club of yours. And there’s something else you should know in that regard. Doyle all but confided that he’s got a special force lined up to police the inside of the Palace during the banquet that’s being planned for that first evening.’
‘Surely the Palace has its own security, drawn from the various Guards regiments?’
‘Correct — so what’s Doyle up to, and where is this “special force” of his coming from?’
Jack’s eyes lit up as the penny dropped into the slot. ‘Mickey Black told me that he and a few other bobbies who’ve gone absent without leave spend their days in military type drill in the Waterloo Barracks! They must be the lot that Doyle’s talking about!’
‘How many?’
‘No accurate idea, at this stage. But how soon before I get the offer that I can’t refuse, and get to learn the price of my club membership?’
‘Hopefully that won’t be long, Percy suggested, ‘but I need to contact Melville before all this gets out of hand, so the sooner you get Esther to deliver the message the better. Here’s the note, already written — take Friday off, give her the note for Melville, then when we come back on Monday you might wish to take yourself back to Bow Street. That way you’ll be easier to approach.’
Chapter Eighteen
Esther threw another handful of crumbs from the remains of her cheese sandwich to the eager pigeons that cooed appreciatively round her boots and smiled as she breathed in the fresh air from her bench seat a few yards down from the Marlborough Gate entrance to St. James’s Park. Then she gazed appreciatively to her left, where in the distance she could just make out the rigid roofline of Buckingham Palace through the trees that were just coming into bud.
Her first two missions had been accomplished, and in her capacious shopping bag was a box containing the new hat with matching gloves, both in her favourite blue, which she had purchased at a reasonable price from the John Lewis store in Oxford Street. The letter had been handed over at the front desk just inside the imposing Government building with its Georgian pillars in Marlborough Road, and hopefully it would now be in the secure hands of the man to whom it had been addressed in Percy’s immaculate copperplate hand. Now there was only one task left before she could take the bus back to Fenchurch Street Station and home, and she sighed as she regretted having left it until last. Had she undertaken it first, then this seat in the Park would be her final memory of a day out in London; as it was, she now had to make the depressing trip down into the sordid backstreets of Wapping in order to keep her promise to Jack.
As she alighted briskly from the bus platform at the stop by the junction of Nightingale Lane with the Ratcliff Highway she kept her head well down, conscious of the leering stares of two lounging labourers on the corner. She scuttled hastily down the wide expanse of roadway along which tobacco carts were plying their way towards Whitechapel, wrinkling her nose against the sickly-sweet odour of their cargoes that blended with the stench from the recently dropped horse dung. She took the first side street to her right, then turned left into Pennington Street in the hope that number fifteen was at the end of the street closest to her.
With a sigh of relief she found it several alleyways up on her left and walked down the dank approach to the outside door of the communal kitchen where, if the lodging house was anything like the ones she had known in the Spitalfields of her youth, she would find the Superintendent. Instead she found his wife, who looked Esther’s relatively fine clothes up and down with suspicion before advising her that she’d find Mrs Black on the fourth level up, and that ‘Yer can’t miss it, since ’er noisy bleedin’ kids’ll be blockin’ the stairs as usual.’
There were two fairly ragged children of around eight years of age sitting gloomily at the top of the third landing, who confirmed that ‘Mam’s one floor up, but she’s not expectin’ nobody.’ On the top landing at last, Esther tapped smartly on the door, and a few moments later it opened to the sight of a scrawny woman with greying auburn hair who smelt heavily of yesterday’s sweat and was carrying a mewling baby under her arm.
‘Mrs Black?’ Esther enquired politely, and the woman’s eyes narrowed defiantly.
‘You from them “child neglect” busybodies?’ she demanded aggressively.
Esther shook her head. ‘No, I’m here with a message about your husband.’
The woman’s eyes widened, and her mouth relaxed. ‘Yer’d best come in,’ she told Esther with a gesture to indicate the open doorway, and as Esther slipped past her she heard her bellowing down the staircase from the top balcony, ‘L
iza! Jimmy! Get yer arses up ’ere afore I comes down an’ grabs the pair o’yer be the scruff! Sorry about that,’ she smiled at Esther as she nodded towards the vacant chair, then perched herself on the end of the unmade bed with the infant still in her arms, ‘but the little buggers get in the way o’ the other folks what lives ’ere, an’ I’m constantly gettin’ complaints. Now, what were that about Mickey?’
‘I haven’t seen him myself,’ Esther hastened to advise her, ‘but my husband has, and he asked me to come here with a message that your husband is fine and well but won’t be able to come home for a little while longer.’
‘What’s ’e workin’ at?’ Lizzie Black asked. ‘Is ’e still a copper?’
‘As far as I know,’ Esther replied. ‘My husband met him in the course of his work, since he’s a police officer himself.’
‘Yer name’s not Enright, by any chance?’ Lizzie demanded bluntly.
‘Yes. But please call me Esther.’
Lizzie looked thoughtful for a moment as she gazed appreciatively at Esther’s full-length wool coat and polished lace-up boots. ‘I don’t reckon as ’ow I’ve ever met anyone o’ that name afore. Yiddish, innit?’
‘Jewish, yes. Is that a problem?’
‘O’ course not. I’ve got lotsa friends what’s Yiddish — leastways, I used ter ’ave ’til I got dumped in ’ere, where I don’t know nobody ’cept them what moans about the kids.’
Right on cue the two urchins from the stairwell slouched through the open door, and Lizzie yelled for them to shut it, which they did before taking sullen seats on the bare floor, making no attempt to conceal their curious stares at their new visitor with the ‘posh’ clothes.
