The Jubilee Plot

by David Field

  ‘Not recently. Do you want me to take the initiative?’

  ‘And say what, exactly?’ Melville challenged him. ‘Best let him come to you — that way it doesn’t look too suspicious. We don’t want to seem over-eager.’

  ‘And in the meantime?’

  ‘Keep doing what you’re doing. Give every appearance of trying to build a wall of blue around the steps of St. Pauls on the Twenty-second. Do it as if you meant it, and as if you’re convinced that the second day is the vulnerable one. Share all your information with Doyle, so that he reports back to whoever’s pulling his strings that we’ve bought the entire subterfuge. We’ll need to meet every week now, and this time and place are convenient for me. So — while I still appear to have some biscuits left — that would seem to be all for this morning.’

  ‘What’s really going on, Jack, and why is that poor woman being kept virtually a prisoner in that awful doss house in Wapping?’ Esther demanded as they sat around the Sunday dinner table. ‘What’s her husband really up to, and how come you’re involved? Uncle Percy again, isn’t it? Not content with dragging you back into London, he’s somehow got you involved in God knows what skulduggery that also includes Mickey Black, whose wife doesn’t have a clue what he’s up to. Am I to be treated like her? The “Enright Code of Silence” yet again? I’m surely worth better than that.’

  Jack sighed, and was sorely tempted to reveal all, until he stopped himself with the reminder that if Esther knew what he was really involved in, she’d not only be scared to death, but would lecture him on his responsibilities towards her and the children. A bit like he’d been lecturing himself lately, but he didn’t need to hear it from her as well.

  ‘You must know by now that I can’t disclose any details of cases that I’m working on,’ was his first tame excuse, and it got the treatment it deserved.

  ‘Until you want my assistance in solving them,’ she reminded him. ‘How many times in the past have I proved to be the most valuable member of the team, the vital cog in the wheel? I was good enough to be given confidential information then, but this time I’m seemingly only your message girl.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Jack protested. ‘This latest job really is top-secret, as you’ll have to agree when the details finally become public knowledge, as they undoubtedly will. For the time being I can’t tell you anything, that’s all, any more than Lizzie Black can be told what her Mickey’s up to.’

  ‘Are you working with him?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, but I really can’t say any more.’

  ‘At least I’m not being held prisoner, like she is,’ Esther conceded. ‘I went to see her again last week, and she tells me that everywhere she goes she’s followed, and that when she tried to go and live with her sister she was forced into that dreadful single room on the top floor of that disgusting rooming house that makes the one I was staying in when we first met seem like the Grosvenor.’

  ‘You must stay away from there!’ Jack commanded her without thinking.

  The colour rose in her face in an expression of defiance. ‘And who are you to tell me where I should and shouldn’t go, while you spend your weeks prancing around London engaged in matters that you refuse to discuss with me?’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if I sounded a bit bossy just then, but it really wouldn’t be a good idea for you to visit Lizzie Black again. There are people watching her every move, and no doubt taking a good look at her visitors, and I don’t want you involved in all this. It’s bad enough that I am.’

  ‘And even worse that you won’t tell me anything about it!’ Esther replied accusingly, then her face softened. ‘I’m beginning to agree with your mother, that it would have been better if you’d chosen another profession — or at least a real profession, like your father’s.’

  ‘If I had done, we’d never have met,’ Jack reminded her.

  ‘And if we hadn’t, and I’d married a lawyer, or a doctor, or someone more likely to meet with your mother’s approval, at least I wouldn’t be left at home five days out of seven. I know that the woman’s place is in the home, Jack, but there’s no law that says that her husband can be somewhere else. It’s Sunday again, and I’m beginning to dread these Sunday dinners, knowing that in a few hours you’ll pick up your bag and head off again for another five days. I love you even more than I did when we first met, and I’ve just about had it with all these partings!’

  She threw her fork down on the kitchen table and burst into tears. Jack got up and hurried round the table to fold her in his arms as he knelt beside her and nuzzled her hair with his lips.

  ‘It won’t be for all that much longer,’ he assured her. ‘Just a few more weeks. It’s the beginning of May next week, and this will be all over by the end of June.’

  ‘That’s still two months. Eight more weeks! And how can you be sure that it’ll all be over then?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, but I promise that it will,’ Jack assured her. ‘And I promise never to get involved in another case that takes me away from you — ever.’

  She looked up through her tear streaks. ‘You promise? You really promise?’

  ‘I really promise. Now please don’t let’s quarrel like this, when I have to go away before supper time. Let’s just go and cuddle in the sitting room.’

  ‘Your week’s up,’ Markwell told Jack as he appeared in his doorway, ‘and frankly I’m surprised that I haven’t heard back from you already. You’re being offered a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate your loyalty to the Queen, which can only result in a rapid promotion through the ranks.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Jack replied in what he hoped was a suitable tone of deference, ‘but it’s all been a bit sudden, and I have my family to consider.’

  ‘They’re obviously important to you, and I respect that,’ Markwell said more softly as he entered the office and took the visitor’s chair in front of Jack’s desk, ‘but this is a matter that concerns the ultimate welfare of every family in the realm.’

  Jack allowed his expression to appear unconvinced, and Markwell fell for it.

  ‘Has Liam Brennan told you exactly what will be involved, Jack?’

  ‘Not precisely, no.’

  Markwell looked furtively behind him, then lowered his voice. ‘We have every reason to believe that an attack will be made on the Queen’s life during the State Banquet on the first day of the Jubilee celebrations — the Twenty-first of June. The only security inside the Banqueting Hall in the Palace consists of toy soldiers in fancy uniforms. We need a team of real security professionals, and that’s why the men you’ll be leading are being specially trained to form an elite guard of their own. Once we catch the assassin he’ll be carted away by police officers and locked up where we can interrogate him regarding his motivations and loyalties.’

  ‘And my job will be what, precisely?’ Jack enquired.

  ‘To command the men, who’ll be on standby to effect the arrest.’

  ‘But who’s going to prevent the actual assassination?’

  ‘You don’t need to know that,’ Markwell replied abruptly. ‘Just take my word for it that we have the matter in hand. Now, are you prepared to take on this responsible duty for the nation?’

  ‘Can I have another week?’ Jack asked meekly. ‘I need to reassure my wife that I’ll be in no danger and let her know that I’ll be missing on the day when she no doubt wants to bring the children down to London to wave their flags for Her Majesty.’

  ‘Very well,’ Markwell agreed, ‘but that’s the final limit. After next Friday, the honour will be offered to someone else.’

  By the time that Wednesday dawned, the memory of that gentle afternoon on the Sunday had faded in Esther’s memory, and had been replaced by the more familiar resentment. Once Lily and Bertie had disappeared from sight at the end of the front drive, in their school clothes and shepherded by the ever-reliable Nell, Esther pulled on her boots, put on her coat, scooped up Miriam into her pram and tucked Tommy in beside her. Then she
headed off the half mile or so down the lane, and persuaded Constance to devote the following day to presiding over the house in Bunting Lane while Esther made another trip into London.

  She fed Constance the little white lie that she was visiting an old friend who had recently lost her husband in tragic circumstances, and who was in need of the sort of spiritual upliftment that members of the St Margaret’s Ladies’ Guild were committed to dispensing, and by ten o’clock on the Thursday morning she was rattling her way down to Fenchurch Street with a light heart and a handful of sweets in her coat pocket for the Black children.

  As she got off the bus at Nightingale Lane, there were once again two loafers on the corner to ogle her passing. Had she paid them any great attention, she would have realised that they were the same two loafers as on the previous occasions, but she was too intent on keeping her head down in the faintly guilty realisation that Jack had told her not to come back here. But she was intent on defying him, not just for her own satisfaction, but also in the belief that the poor woman would welcome any company in her enforced loneliness. After all, Esther got to see Jack two days a week at least, whereas poor old Lizzie Black didn’t even have that comfort.

  Three hours later, in a warm glow of self-righteousness, Esther walked back to the bus stop, her mind full of the fact that Jack would be home the following evening. Once again she kept her eyes on the uneven ground ahead of her as she picked her way down Ratcliff Highway, and failed to notice the old lady with the shopping basket who followed her from the shade of a shop doorway and climbed onto the bus platform behind her.

  In due course the old lady was replaced by a middle-aged man who kept Esther in his sights all the way back to Fenchurch Street Station, where he nodded to the youth with the school bag who sat three carriages back from hers until the train reached Barking, where he kept two hundred yards behind her and kept on walking down Bunting Lane when she turned into her driveway, slowing down only to make a note of the number on the gatepost as he walked casually by, then turned back five driveways later and hurried back towards the station with a triumphant glint in his eye as he calculated how many pints he could get for the shilling he’d just earned.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘We haven’t seen you at the club lately,’ Liam Brennan commented casually to Jack as they sipped their morning tea in the tearoom inside Bow Street Police Station. ‘Have you been too busy with all that paper that you’re pretending will make all the difference on Day One of the Jubilee bunfight? You already know where the real security will be coming from, and Chief Inspector Markwell won’t wait forever, you know.’

  ‘I have a wife and four kids to think about,’ Jack reminded him. ‘From what I’ve been told, leading that team will take me right into the centre of an assassination attempt, and…’

  ‘You too scared, is that it?’ Brennan challenged him.

  ‘Not for myself, no,’ Jack replied curtly, ‘but I’m the family breadwinner. If you had any family of your own, you’d know what a responsibility that imposes on you.’

  ‘How do you know I don’t? Have you been checking up on me?’

  ‘Of course not, why would I?’

  ‘Just wondered. You’re right, of course, which leaves me free to take full advantage of the benefits of club membership, particularly of the female variety. But even if you’re not interested in those, which I assume you’re not, why don’t we see you at the club so much these days? What do you do with your time in the evenings?’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business,’ Jack replied coldly, ‘but if it makes you feel any happier I’ll drop by this evening.’

  ‘Excellent. The coach will leave around six, and we can travel there together.’

  As promised, Jack was propping up the bar mid-evening when he was joined by Mickey Black, who seemed to be clinging to him after the favour he’d performed in getting a message to Lizzie several weeks earlier.

  ‘How’s it all going?’ Mickey enquired casually.

  ‘Pretty well, I suppose,’ Jack conceded, hoping that the conversation would turn towards what Mickey and his fellow deserters were preparing for. Mickey’s next comment made him pay more attention.

  ‘We was told this mornin’ that we’ll be finished the job they’ve got in mind fer us by the end o’ June, but I’m not prepared ter wait that long. I’m plannin’ ter run away, but I’ll need somewhere ter keep me ’ead down fer a week or two. I’ve gorra bruvver what lives in Shoreditch, an’ ’e’ll see me right fer a day or two, if yer could get a message ter Lizzie ter join me there wiv the kids. She knows the place.’

  ‘What about the others in your team?’ Jack enquired.

  ‘Bugger the others,’ Mickey smiled. ‘This is just me, right? Tell me yer’ll do it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Jack assured him, ‘but it won’t be until next week some time, so don’t make your run too early.’

  ‘Next week’ll be fine — and thanks, pal.’

  Esther was surprised that Jack was prepared to let her go back to Wapping, even though she would simply be carrying a message. But it was a happy message, and as she watched Jack disappear down Bunting Lane on the following Sunday afternoon she reminded herself of how lonely she felt watching him walk away and tried to imagine what it must be like for Lizzie.

  Happy to be the bearer of good tidings, she made the now familiar arrangement for Constance to come over on Tuesday to supervise the house for the day and set off with a light heart back to Wapping. The usual loungers were hanging around the junction near the bus stop, and she paid them no heed as she walked cheerfully down Ratcliff Highway, not once looking round, and therefore not realising that she was being followed.

  As she reached the top landing of the lodging house, she half noted with curiosity that the door to the opposite room was wide open, with seemingly no-one inside. Too late she became aware of the stealthy footfalls behind her, and with a brief yell of protest she felt herself being lifted bodily off the floor with a burly hand under each armpit, and seconds later she was inside the empty room, the door barred behind her, screaming to be let out, but realistically knowing that her protests were in vain.

  On the following day, Jack was irritated to look up and see Chief Inspector Markwell once again darkening his open doorway, this time with a smirk wide enough to join one ear with another.

  ‘Have you made your mind up yet?’ Markwell demanded, and Jack frowned.

  ‘You gave me one more week. I don’t know about you, but my weeks end on a Friday.’

  ‘When you go home to your family in Barking?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Jack replied nervously.

  ‘Well, while you’re deciding whether or not to join us, you might like to be advised that when you go home tomorrow, you’ll find one less person there waiting to greet you.’

  Jack froze, then shot Markwell a murderous look. ‘Have you kidnapped one of my children or something?’

  Markwell smiled. ‘Let’s just say that your dear lady wife will be our guest while you fulfil the role allocated to you in ensuring the Queen’s safety.’

  ‘You bastards!’ Jack yelled.

  ‘Clearly, the time for diplomacy and polite walking around each other has expired,’ Markwell responded with a sneer. ‘You have my assurance that your wife will come to no harm, provided that we receive your co-operation in what is to come. No more questions, no more less than subtle attempts to probe the activities of the Home Front Club, and no more pretence of compiling manpower figures for the Twenty-first of next month. Understood?’

  ‘What about my children?’ Jack demanded, outraged and fearful. ‘Even if you assure me that you don’t mean them any harm, who’s going to look after them while I’m down here in London?’

  ‘Your mother lives down the road, does she not? And she brought up two of her own in her time. That’s not a skill that you lose over time.’

  ‘She’s a sick woman!’ Jack protested.

  ‘Then what about the girl w
ho takes your two eldest to school and back every day? And that young man of hers?’

  Jack’s next objection froze in his mouth as he took in the implications.

  ‘You obviously know a great deal about my family life, and I think I can guess where that information came from. Which tells me precisely who’s behind all this, and if I get my hands on him, brother-in-law or not, I’ll…’

  Markwell raised his hand in the air by way of a request for silence. ‘Never mind the wild speculation, Sergeant. I imagine that you have a few domestic arrangements to make in your wife’s absence, so I won’t keep you.’

  As he disappeared from the doorway, Jack leapt from behind his desk and headed full pelt down the stairs to the front door. He dived onto the platform of the first bus heading towards Whitehall, and within half an hour he was gasping for breath as he burst into Percy’s office in the Yard with the dreadful tidings. Percy looked shocked at first, then his rational brain took over.

  ‘The chances are that they mean what they say, Jack, and they need your co-operation. I’ll obviously send men over to the address of this Lizzie Black, in case Esther made it that far, but my guess is that they’ll have her secreted away somewhere where we won’t think to look. You’d best get back to Barking immediately and check that everything’s in order, then you’ll have to make arrangements for someone to see to the kids while you come back here on Monday and do what they require of you.’

  ‘I can’t just sit down here in London while Esther’s in danger!’ Jack protested, and Percy tried his best to be both logical and supportive at one and the same time.

  ‘The only way she’ll be in danger is if you don’t go along with what they’re demanding,’ he reminded Jack. ‘And wherever they’re holding her, it’s almost certainly here in London. So what choices do you have?’