by Jack Murray
‘I think you’ve reached the heart of why he challenged me in the first place. Nothing would please his paymasters more than victory in a chess match against a representative of the elite, and an amateur to boot. To be fair to Filip, he would be confident of beating me. No point in picking a fight with someone who could give you a bloody nose. My word, the symbolism! I’m sure the Bolsheviks would have a lot of fun with that.’
Bright was laughing now.
‘Your defeat could herald the world revolution they’re so keen on. Imagine.’
This made Kit laugh again and then he stopped himself. Thoughts of Mary came back to him. Sensing his change in mood, and the reason for it, Bright stopped laughing also and gazed sympathetically at his friend.
‘She’ll come through Kit. Give it time. I haven’t known her long, but I recognize a fighter when I see one.’
Kit nodded in gratitude but could say nothing. His eyes stung for a moment and he fought to control his emotions. Glancing down at the telegram he seemed to arrive at a decision.
‘I’ll tell him I’m not going to play. He can say what he wants. I won’t respond. I’m not turning this into a three-ring circus.’
As he said this, Miller entered the room followed by Sam, Kit’s little Jack Russell. Sam hopped up onto Bright’s knee.
‘He senses weakness,’ acknowledged Bright, as Miller put down a tray with tea and some sandwiches.
Kit looked up at Miller, ‘Thanks Harry. Has the boy been fed?’
Miller laughed, ‘Yes, not that it matters. Even if he’s not hungry, he’ll target getting more food as a matter of principle.’
Bright laughed also as he fed Sam a bit of the cucumber sandwich, ‘Why ever do you say that Harry?’
‘Just a feeling Doctor Bright, call it intuition,’ said Miller as Sam gobbled down the rest of Bright’s sandwich and looked up at the doctor in expectation.
‘You have remarkable insight into the canine mind, Harry,’ smiled Bright.
‘Just this little so and so.’
Bright handed Sam his second sandwich, ‘Last one, Sam, last one.’ Both man and dog knew it wouldn’t be.
Chapter 4
Edinburgh: 2nd January 1920
Filip Serov stepped off the gangplank onto the wet, smoke-grey concrete dock, narrowly avoiding the puddle forming rapidly at its base. He glanced up at the leaden sky and the rain falling gently on his face. The temperature was probably around freezing point. He was surprised by how warm it was.
The three-day journey had taken him through the Arctic-cold of Petrograd, through the less-than-tropical Baltic Sea to Stockholm and, ultimately, to Edinburgh. New Year’s Day had come and gone somewhere near Stockholm, apparently, but not for him. It was another two weeks away on his calendar.
He saw a heavy-set man looking at him intently. The man was wearing a tweed overcoat, a scarf and a Homburg pulled down so that only his bespectacled eyes showed, and an impressive, dark moustache flecked with grey. A nod of the head told Serov this was the man who had come to meet him. They walked towards one another. The man spoke perfect, if slightly accented Russia.
‘Mr Serov, I presume.’
‘Yes, am I addressing Mr Bergmann?’
‘Please let us be less formal. I am Georgy,’ said Bergmann with a welcoming smile. They shook hands and Serov inspected him further. He was in his fifties, guessed Serov. The name and the accent suggested that he was from one of the Baltic states. His bearing was military. Serov suspected that he was a part of Cheka, Russia’s secret police. It made no difference if he was or was not. This man was part of the Revolution, a revolution that he, Serov, believed in. More importantly for Serov, this man clearly knew their leader, Vladimir Ilyich, or Lenin as the world knew him.
‘Filip,’ replied Serov smiling in return. He followed Bergmann as he led him out of the port to a waiting car.
Once inside, Filip saw there was a driver. He nodded to him. Bergmann introduced the other man, ‘This is my friend and associate Leon Daniels, I may have mentioned him in my correspondence.’ The two men shook hands across the seat dividing the driver from the passengers. If Bergmann was heavyset, then Daniels was constructed on a wholly different and even more epic scale. Serov made a mental note not to upset this man although he seemed quite friendly on this first acquaintance. The car quickly sped off into the centre of Edinburgh and Bergmann used the journey to outline the plan for the next few weeks of Serov’s stay.
‘From tomorrow, we have arranged a series of visits to chess clubs. You will start here in Edinburgh. After this, we will move south towards London. As I may have mentioned, our itinerary will include Manchester, followed by Birmingham, Cheltenham and finally a short period in London. All these cities, except Cheltenham, have a very large number of workers and trade unionists. You will have a chance to meet key leaders of the labour movement as well as play chess against enthusiasts in all of cities.’
‘Excellent. And Aston?’ asked Serov.
‘Sadly, Lord Aston has not been in contact since before Christmas when he’d suggested that he might be open to a correspondence-based game,’ replied Bergmann. He added, ‘But don’t worry, I have some ideas on persuading him.’
Serov smiled also, ‘I’m intrigued.’ He desperately wanted to renew his rivalry with the English lord.
‘Well, I’ve suggested to the press that a challenge has been laid down. With some sympathetic journalists, I hasten to add. I suspect pressure may be brought to bear on Aston even if he is reluctant,’ said Bergmann with a sly look which suggested Aston would be brought to heel.
Serov nodded grimly, ‘Good, I look forward to playing him again.’
‘You’re sure you can win?’
Serov looked at Bergmann and smiled. This made Bergmann smile also and he answered his own question, ’Forgive me Filip. As you know, a lot rests on the world seeing you take on and defeat the heroes of imperialism such as Lord Aston.’
Serov laughed, ‘Just concentrate on getting him to play and gaining the attention of the press. I’ll do the rest.’
Bergmann glanced at Daniels but said nothing. He noticed the hint of a raised eyebrow and a smile. For the rest of the short journey, he and Serov chatted amiably about Edinburgh and the people they drove past on the street.
They pulled up at an impressive building on Princes Street. The Old Waverley Hotel rose before the men as they exited the car. Made from Craig Leith sandstone, time had rendered the original tan colour dark. It gave the building a forbidding austere character. Serov liked this. He was a serious person. This was a serious building.
‘Good choice,’ said Serov to Bergmann as they entered the hotel. A doorman stood at the entrance and doffed his top hat. Bergmann nodded back. Daniels followed with his bags. His first impression of a man mountain was proved correct. Bergmann’s associate was enormous.
Rather than go to the reception, Bergmann led the two men to the elevator. They went to their second-floor rooms. Bergmann rapped the door and a few moments later, a small man opened the door. Serov felt instinctively that he would not like this man. A brooding insecurity hung over this man like a bad smell. Sly, greedy eyes studied the new arrival. Bergmann spoke in Russian to the little man.
‘Fechin, meet our guest, Filip Serov.’
Fechin’s handshake was limp which only added to Serov’s negative view of his character. Serov consoled himself with the thought that not all the soldiers of the Revolution would be to his liking but at least they were united in fighting for a just cause. Happily, the room was large and elegantly furnished. Serov hoped the other hotels would match the impressive grandeur, and seriousness of the Old Waverley.
Fechin called down for room service while Bergmann, Serov and Daniels sat down to discuss further the plans for the week. Daniels and Fechin were to accompany Serov to each of the locations but Bergmann would only be able to join periodically. His role would be to keep the momentum going on publicity and prime some of the people Serov would meet over
the course of his stay.
Serov was slightly disappointed to hear Bergmann would not be around for large periods of his tour. The thought of time with Fechin did not appeal. Daniels seemed a friendlier sort. Serov detected that he was no more enamoured of the little Russian than he. Bergmann shrewdly guessed the prospect of spending time with Fechin would not be appealing.
‘I should mention also that another gentleman will joining our party in Manchester. He sends you his apologies. His name is Mr Ezeras Kopel. I think the two of you will get on very well.’
Serov nodded and replied, ‘Kopel? Is he Latvian also?’
‘He is a fellow countryman, but he has lived in Russia for many years. I doubt you’ll find anyone more committed or more capable in bringing the Revolution to the rest of the world.’
‘I look forward to meeting Mr Kopel.’
This seemed to satisfy Bergmann, who smiled back to Serov. It was clear to Serov that Bergmann was most desirous that he should have a comfortable stay. This was reassuring. The meeting concluded with Bergmann announcing his intention to travel to London on the overnight train. They would meet up again in Manchester two days from now. By then he hoped that Lord Aston would have been persuaded to play the game.
‘You should use the next hour or two to take a walk around Edinburgh. It’s a beautiful city. The castle is well worth a visit. Leon, perhaps you could accompany Filip.’
Daniels looked at Serov, who made it clear he was more than happy with this arrangement. Turning to Fechin, Bergmann said, ‘In the meantime, could you come with me? I have some tasks that need attending to.’
The small Russian followed Bergmann from the room, leaving Daniels and Serov to one another’s company.
Serov looked at his companion. Although serious, he felt a kinship with this man. He sensed an integrity in him, and Bergmann which was clearly absent in the other. Men like this had made the Revolution happen. They were brothers in arms against the imperialists. Literally, as he was to find out.
Chapter 5
The next morning saw Kit, Esther and Richard arranged around Mary’s bed. These visits had settled into a familiar routine. Initially, Esther and then Kit would speak into Mary’s ear. Each took one of her hands to stroke it in the hope that the stimulus of the senses would ‘wake’ Mary from the coma. Invariably they would begin to converse about other things after the initial efforts to arouse Mary failed.
‘I heard from Henry this morning. I gather things are rather tense again between him and Aunt Emily. She’s still not accepting that Henry’s in love with Jane,’ said Esther.
Kit smiled in sympathy. ‘You know the change in Henry over that holiday was remarkable.’
Esther thought for a moment and then replied, ‘Yes and no. He wasn’t always such a gloomy goat. Up until he was thirteen, you wouldn’t have said he’d become so morose and moody. Before then he was good fun, and he was always bright. In fact, he was more than bright. He was smart. When Governess Curtis left us, and Jane was sent to the school, it all coincided with his teenage years. Then he lost Uncle Robert. It wasn’t easy for him to adjust. Speaking of it now makes me think, it wasn’t such a big change really. I can remember Uncle Robert would sometimes needle him about his lack of interest in sport. But I can tell you, Henry gave it back with interest. He had the beating of Uncle Robert in these verbal duels. Mary even said as much. She thought one of the reasons Uncle Robert backed off Henry in the end was that he knew he was getting bested.’
‘Really? I never suspected Henry of being so combative.’
‘Oh, he was. Then, particularly after we lost Uncle Robert, that side of him seemed to disappear. Instead of arguing he just went into himself, excluding everyone, except Jane obviously. I think we’re seeing the real Henry now and I’m so glad.’
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at her sister. Seeing this, Bright immediately held Esther’s hand and tried to console her.
Esther continued, ‘It’s such a pity, you know. Mary and Henry were such a pair. Occasionally, before Henry became so morose, she and I would treat him and Jane awfully. Nothing cruel. But Henry and Mary would have real flare ups. She enjoyed provoking him. He was a match for her, I can tell you. I think Mary relished the duelling because he was so good at it, too.’
Kit smiled despite the sadness he was feeling, ‘I suspect both of you were too conspiratorial ever to fall into disagreement.’
Esther laughed and wiped her eyes, ‘Yes we were. Always.’ Then the tears came again, and she fell upon her sister sobbing uncontrollably. Kit shook his head at Bright. There was little point in intervening. Both understood how Esther was feeling. A little later a nurse knocked at the door and inquired if they would be happy to receive more visitors.
Surprised, Esther asked, ‘Who are they?’
‘A Mr Chadderton and a Mr Stevens,’ replied the nurse.
Kit looked at Esther and they both smiled.
‘Please send them in,’ said Esther.
Moments later Charles ‘Chubby’ Chadderton and Aldric ‘Spunky’ Stevens entered the room. Kit and Bright rose immediately.
‘Esther, my dear, so sorry it’s taken so long,’ said Chubby walking over to Esther and giving her a hug.
Bright looked at Kit expectantly but Chubby beat him to it.
‘Doctor Bright, I’m Charles Chadderton, I’ve known your two friends longer than they care to mention.’
Bright and Chubby shook hands across the end of the bed. The tall man was in no way as large as his name suggested. He was, however, clearly full of good humour and Bright found himself taking an instant liking to the new arrival.
‘And I’m Spunky,’ said the other man holding out his hand.
A look of amused shock passed over Bright’s face and he looked at the innocent face of Kit, who was trying not to laugh. Spunky was like a dastardly villain from a penny blood. An eye patch over one eye and a monocle over the other. It quickly became apparent he was very far from being a scoundrel.
‘You’re Spunky?’ said Esther naively.
Bright nearly choked when he heard this and began coughing. Esther stood up and gave Spunky a peck on the cheek. This brought a caddish smile and colour to his face.
‘Thank you for everything you did, Mr Stevens. Richard are you unwell?’
‘Fine,’ coughed Richard, who was anything but.
‘I’m so sorry also, Miss Cavendish. I hope your sister will soon recover,’ said Spunky with genuine concern.
‘If I know Mary she’ll be up and about giving you hell in no time, Kit, old boy,’ added Chubby.
Kit smiled and nodded appreciatively. Things were never gloomy with Chubby and Spunky around. He was glad to see his two friends. All that was missing was Olly Lake and the gang would be back together again. He wondered where Olly was now. It had been too long. He made a note to himself to see Olly as soon as was possible. Hopefully, by then, Mary would be at his side.
The introductions made, chairs were found for the new arrivals and they chatted about the recent events. Chubby and Spunky filled in Esther and Bright about their role in helping Kit uncover Strangerson. When they reached the part about breaking into Strangerson’s apartment, Spunky halted and glanced at Kit. Receiving nodded confirmation from Kit, he continued with his story. He had a natural story teller’s gift for holding the attention of his audience and it was a good story. Adjusting his monocle, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat before continuing.
‘We used somewhat nefarious means to uncover Strangerson’s connection to the threatening Christmas cards.’
Bright broke in at this point, ‘I thought it was the police that searched Strangerson’s flat?’
‘Oh, they did old boy,’ smiled Spunky, ‘It’s just that we were there first. It was, principally, to establish if there was a typewriter in his flat. No point in sending our flat-footed cousins along on a wild goose chase. Did them a favour if you ask me. Anyway, once we’d established beyond a shadow that this blighter c
ould’ve typed the cards, we gave Kit the nod and then Inspector Stott organized the rest.’
Bright nodded at this, then said laughing, ‘Well the scoundrel had it coming, even if it wasn’t quite...’
‘Legal?’ suggested Chubby with a grin.
‘Quite,’ agreed Spunky. “Luckily Inspector Stott suspected nothing.’
‘Far from it, Spunky, he knew full well what was happening. He chose not to notice,’ smiled Kit. ‘A good man, Stott. Wasn’t sure at first but he grew on me.’
‘Really? Pragmatic goose,’ said a surprised Spunky.
‘Indeed,’ said Kit.
The morning passed quickly as the group chatted about Strangerson’s impending trial. All felt confident he would hang. There was little sympathy for Strangerson on this score. Soon, a nurse came to tell them that visiting time was over and the group left together.
‘Will you join us for lunch?’ asked Esther.
Neither Chubby nor Spunky were free and they separated outside the hospital. Kit cried off also, preferring to give the couple a little time together. For this, he received a grateful nod from Bright. After dropping off the pair in Leicester Square, Kit and Miller returned to the apartment. As they entered the concierge handed Miller an envelope addressed to Kit.
Kit opened the envelope which contained a short, handwritten note. After a few moments he turned to Miller, ‘Seems we’ll have to head out again immediately. My former commanding officer wants to meet up. He suggested a rendezvous in St James’s Park.’
‘Shall I bring Sam? He probably needs a walk. The old boy’s been stuck in here all morning.’
‘Good idea, Harry. You can both indulge your favourite past time.’
Miller glanced up with a smile on his face, ‘Yes, usually lots of very attractive ladies in the park when it’s not raining.’
A moment later, Sam came bursting into the room yelping in delight. He ran around Kit, excitedly.
