‘The law of averages comes into play here. In every thousand good men, you are bound to have a tiny minority of blackguards. Some of them are employed here,’ Tallis continued, ‘and they think so highly of the benevolent Brassey that they’re prepared to do anything to stop this railway from being built. I’m sorry, Inspector. You may admire the way that he operates,’ he said, dismissively, ‘but I think that Brassey is too naïve.’
‘He’s a shrewd and hard-headed businessman, sir. You do not achieve his extraordinary level of success by being naïve.’
‘If he has problems here, it is up to him to sort them out.’
‘But there is a direct link with the murder of Gaston Chabal.’
‘So you keep telling me,’ said Tallis, ‘but we will not find it by unleashing Mulryne on this railway. All that he will do is to muddy the waters even more.’
‘Give him time,’ implored Colbeck.
‘We are returning to England today.’
‘But that would leave Mr Brassey in the lurch.’
‘He can call in the French police.’
‘Then we’ll never find the man who killed Chabal.’
‘Yes, we will,’ said Tallis. ‘If we hunt for him in the country where he resides – England.’
Further argument was curtailed. Tallis got up from the table and stalked off to his room to collect his bag. Colbeck thanked the farmer’s wife who had given them such a tasty breakfast and paid her for accommodating them. It was not long before he and Tallis were on their way to the site to take their leave of Thomas Brassey. During the drive, Colbeck made repeated attempts to persuade Tallis to change his mind but the superintendent was adamant. Activities in France had to be brought to an immediate halt. As a courtesy to the contractor, Tallis undertook to explain to him why.
Colbeck was faced with a dilemma. If he wanted to remain as a detective, he had to obey orders and return to London. If, however, he wanted to pick up a trail that led eventually to the killer, he had to remain in France until the information came to light. He was still wrestling with the dilemma when they arrived. Alighting from the trap, they walked towards Brassey’s office. Before they could knock on the door, however, it was opened for them. The contractor had seen them through the window.
‘I’m glad that you came, Inspector,’ he said. ‘She’ll speak to nobody but you.’
‘She?’ said Colbeck.
‘A young Frenchwoman. She seems quite agitated.’
‘Then I’ll talk to her at once.’
Colbeck went into the office and closed the door behind him. Tallis was annoyed at being left outside but he took the opportunity to explain to Brassey why they would be leaving the country that very day. Colbeck, meanwhile, was introducing himself to the barmaid from the village inn, who had befriended Mulryne and spent some of the previous night with him. Because they had got on so well, she had been entrusted with an important message but she would not pass it on until she was convinced that she was speaking to Inspector Robert Colbeck. Only when he had shown her identification, and explained that he was a good friend of Brendan Mulryne, did she trust him.
‘Cette nuit,’ she said.
‘Vous êtes certaine, mademoiselle?’
‘Oui.’
‘Merci. Merci beaucoup.’
Colbeck was so delighted that he wanted to kiss her.
Luke Rogan knew where to find him that late in the day. Sir Marcus Hetherington was at his club, whiling away the evening by conversing with friends about the merits of certain racehorses on which they intended to place a wager. When the steward brought him Rogan’s card, Sir Marcus detached himself from the group and retired to a quiet corner to receive his visitor. After crossing the Channel again when the waves were choppy, Rogan was looking distinctly unwell. He refused the offer of a whisky, vowing to touch neither food nor drink until his stomach had settled down. He lowered himself gingerly into a chair beside Sir Marcus.
‘Well?’ said the old man.
‘It was as I told you, Sir Marcus – no need to fear.’
‘You saw the men?’
‘I spoke to their leader.’
‘What did he tell you?’
When Rogan repeated the list of incidents that had occurred on the railway line, Sir Marcus gave a smile of satisfaction. His money had not, after all, been squandered. He now understood why none of the destruction that had been wrought had been reported in the French newspapers.
‘This is all very gratifying,’ he said.
‘To you, Sir Marcus, but not to me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Taking that boat when the waves were so high,’ said Rogan, holding his stomach. ‘It fair upset me, Sir Marcus. I feel ill. I went all that way to find out something that I knew already. You should have trusted me.’
‘I trust you – but not your friends.’
‘Oh, they’re not friends of mine.’
‘Then what are they?’
‘I’d call them the scum of the earth,’ said Rogan with a sneer, ‘and the only reason I employ them is that I can rely on them to do what they’re told. Pay them well and they do your bidding. But you’d never want to call any of them a friend, Sir Marcus. They’re ruffians.’
‘Even ruffians have their uses at times.’
‘Once this is over, I wash my hands of them.’
‘That brings us to the crux of the matter,’ said Sir Marcus.
‘When will this finally be over? What they have accomplished so far is a series of delays and I willingly applaud them for that. Delays, however, are mere irritations to a man like Brassey. He’s indomitable. He’ll shrug off temporary setbacks and press on regardless. When are your friends – your hired ruffians, I should say – going to make it impossible for him to carry on?’
‘Soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Within a day or two, Sir Marcus,’ said Rogan, confidently. ‘That’s what I was told. They’re going to make one last strike before getting away from the site for good.’
‘One last strike?’
‘It will be much more than a simple delay.’
‘Why?’
‘They’re going to burn down Mr Brassey’s office and destroy all the surveys that people like Gaston Chabal prepared for him. Without anything to guide them, they simply won’t be able to go on with the work. But there’s more, Sir Marcus,’ said Rogan, grinning wolfishly, ‘and it will give them the biggest headache of all.’
‘Go on.’
‘They’re going to steal the big safe from the office. It not only contains valuable documents that cannot be replaced, it holds all the money to pay the navvies.’
‘So they’ll get no wages,’ said Sir Marcus, slapping his knees in appreciation. ‘By George, this is capital!’
‘No money and thousands of angry men to face.’
‘Come pay day and Brassey will have a veritable riot on his hands. I take back all I said, Rogan,’ the old man added with a condescending smile. ‘I should never have doubted your ability to pick the right men for the job. Ruffians or not, these fellows deserve a medal. They’ll have brought the whole enterprise to a juddering halt.’
There were five of them in all. One of them, Gerald Murphy, was employed as a nightwatchman so he was able to tell them exactly where his colleagues were placed and how best to avoid them. Another man, Tim Dowd, drove one of the carts that took supplies to various parts of the site. Pierce Shannon, Liam Kilfoyle and Brendan Mulryne completed the gang. When they slipped out of the inn after dark, their leader noted that someone was missing.
‘Where’s Brendan?’ he said.
‘Saying farewell to his lady love,’ replied Kilfoyle with a snigger. ‘He’s probably telling her that he’ll see her later when, in fact, he’ll be on the run with the rest of us.’
‘Go and fetch him, Liam.’
‘Never come between a man and his colleen.’
‘Then I’ll get the bastard.’
Shannon turne
d on his heel but he did not have to go back into the building. Mulryne was already walking towards him, still savouring the long, succulent kiss that he had just been given in the privacy of the cellar. He beamed at the others.
‘Ah, isn’t love a wonderful thing?’ he announced.
‘Not if it holds us up,’ said Shannon, brusquely. ‘Forget about her, Brendan. After tonight, you’ll have enough money to buy yourself any pair of tits you take a fancy to.’
‘I’m sorry, Pierce. What must I do?’
‘Shut up and listen.’
Keeping his voice low, Shannon gave them their orders. Murphy was to act as their lookout and he rehearsed a whistle he would give them by way of a warning. Dowd was to bring his horse and cart to the rear of Brassey’s office. Kilfoyle was charged with the task of creating a diversion by burning down Aubrey Filton’s office. When all the attention was fixed on that, Shannon himself would start a fire in the contractor’s office.
Mulryne was baffled. ‘What do I do, Pierce?’ he asked.
‘The most difficult job of all,’ said Shannon.
‘And what’s that?’
‘Lifting the safe on to the wheelbarrow that Tim will bring.’
‘Oh, that’s easily done.’
‘It won’t be,’ warned Kilfoyle. ‘I’ve seen it. That safe will be a ton weight, Brendan.’
‘I’ll manage it,’ boasted Mulryne. ‘If it’s full of money, I’ll make sure that I do. Though it’d be a lot bleeding quicker if we blow open the safe there and then. We can just grab the money and run.’
‘That’s too dangerous,’ said Shannon. ‘You can’t control an explosion. Besides, we’ve no more gunpowder left. It’s far better to steal the fucking safe and take it away on the cart. By the time they discover it’s gone, we’ll be miles away.’
‘Counting out our share of the money,’ said Kilfoyle.
‘I’ll do that, Liam. You only get what I give you.’
‘That’s fair,’ agreed Mulryne. ‘Pierce has done all the hard work, planning everything. It’s only right that he should get a little more than the rest of us.’
Shannon looked around them. ‘Are we all ready, lads?’
‘Yes,’ they replied in unison.
‘Then let’s kill this fucking railway line once and for all!’
Robert Colbeck had been rescued at the last moment. The information passed on by the French barmaid had persuaded Superintendent Tallis to stay for one more day. He accepted that it might, after all, be possible to catch the men who had caused so much disruption on the railway and, in doing so, discover who their English paymaster was. Along with Thomas Brassey and a group of his most trusted men, Tallis was in hiding not far from the contractor’s office. All but Brassey were armed with cudgels or guns. Nobody expected that the Irishmen would give up without a fight.
Determined to be at the heart of the action, Colbeck had put on an old coat and hat so that he could replace the nightwatchman who normally patrolled the area. He carried a lantern in one hand and a stout wooden club in the other. He followed the identical routine as his predecessor so that it would look as if the same man were on duty. When the raid came, he knew, it would take place when he was at the farthest point from the designated target. The first hint of trouble came when he heard a horse and cart approaching. At that time of night, all the drivers should have been fast asleep while their horses were resting in their makeshift stables. Pretending to hear nothing, Colbeck turned away from Brassey’s office and began a long, slow, methodical walk to the edge of the camp.
The attack was imminent. He sensed it. As soon as he reached the outer limit of his patrol, therefore, he did not amble back at the same pace. Blowing out his lantern, he ran back towards the office in the dark. Colbeck did not want to miss out on the action.
Everything seemed to have gone to plan. Murphy’s whistle told them that the nightwatchman was some distance away from the office. Dowd’s horse and cart were in position and he had trundled the wheelbarrow up to the others. Shannon gave the signal, smacking Kilfoyle on the back so that the latter went off to stand by Filton’s office, then leading Mulryne and Dowd towards their target. The door of the office had two padlocks on it but Shannon soon disposed of them with his jemmy, levering them off within seconds before prising the door open. Holding a lantern, he went across to the safe. Mulryne followed and Dowd came in with the wheelbarrow.
‘Jesus!’ said Dowd when he saw the size of the safe. ‘I’ll never be able to wheel that bloody thing away.’
‘Leave it to Brendan,’ said Shannon. ‘That’s why he’s here.’
Mulryne bent down and got a firm grip on the safe. When he felt its weight, he lifted it an inch off the floor before putting it down again. He spat on both hands then rubbed them together.
‘This is not really heavy,’ he boasted. ‘Hold up that lantern, will you, Pierce? I need all the light I can get.’
Shannon responded, lifting the lantern up until his whole face was illumined. Mulryne seized his moment. Pulling back his arm, he threw a fearsome punch that connected with Shannon’s chin and sent him reeling back. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. Coming into the office, Colbeck had to step over the body. It took Dowd only a moment to realise that they had been duped. Escape was essential. Running at Colbeck, he tried to buffet him aside but the detective was ready for him. He dodged the blow and used his club to jab the man in the stomach. As he doubled up, Colbeck hit him in the face and made him stagger backwards into Mulryne’s bear hug.
‘Timothy Dowd,’ said Mulryne, lapsing back into his days as a constable, ‘I’m arresting you on a charge of attempted burglary.’
‘You double-crossing bastard!’ howled Dowd.
But it was the last thing he was able to say because Mulryne tightened his hold and squeezed all the breath out of him. Kilfoyle came running to see what had caused all the commotion. When he burst in, he almost tripped over Shannon’s body.
‘What happened to Pierce?’ he demanded, bending over his friend. ‘Who hit him?’
‘I did,’ replied Mulryne, triumphantly. ‘He’ll be out for ages, Liam. I caught him a beauty.’
Kilfoyle let out a roar of anger and pulled out a knife. Before he could move towards Mulryne, however, Colbeck stepped out to block his way. Kilfoyle waved his knife threateningly.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘The man who’s here to disarm you,’ said Colbeck, hitting him on the wrist with his club and making him drop his weapon. ‘You must be Liam Kilfoyle.’
‘What of it it?’
‘I’m a friend of Victor Leeming.’
‘That dirty, treacherous, lying cunt!’
‘He asked me to pass on a message,’ said Colbeck, tossing the club aside so that he could use his fists. ‘Attacking people from behind is unfair. This is how you should do it.’
He pummelled away at Kilfoyle face and body, forcing him back by the sheer power of his attack. The Irishman tried to fight back at first but he was soon using both hands to protect himself. When Colbeck caught him on the nose, Kilfoyle stumbled back into the arms of Superintendent Tallis as the latter came into the office.
‘Have we got them all?’ asked Tallis, holding his man tight.
‘Hello there, sir,’ said Mulryne, effusively, as if encountering a favourite long-lost relative. ‘How wonderful it is to see you again, Superintendent, even if it is on foreign soil. Forgive me if I don’t shake hands but Timothy here needs holding.’
‘How many of you were there, Brendan?’ said Colbeck.
‘Five, including me.’
‘We’ve three of them here – that leaves one.’
‘He was caught as well,’ said Tallis. ‘We’ve got the whole gang.’
‘And you saved me the trouble of trying to pick up this bleeding safe,’ said Mulryne, giving it a kick. ‘It weighs three ton at least.’
‘It shouldn’t.’ Colbeck picked up the fallen lantern and walked across to the safe. He opened
the door to show that it was completely empty. ‘Thanks to your warning, Brendan, we took the precaution of removing everything of value out of it.’
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.’
The Railway Viaduct Page 19
