by Jack Murray
‘By the same token, we need to catch these people. You must follow up on every lead, and yes, this will mean speaking to members of the Irish and Russian communities who might include the killers in their midst, albeit unknowingly. We must find the killer. We must do it soon. Thank you, gentlemen.’
The policemen filed out from the conference room leaving the Jellicoe with the three other policemen. No one was prepared to speak. They all looked at Jellicoe expectantly.
‘One thing I neglected to mention just now to the wider team, but I shall to you, relates to the national security aspect of these cases. Clearly, we have departments of state who, shall we say, are actively involved in promoting our national interest abroad. I won’t dwell on who for obvious reasons. They are, I assure you, taking a close interest in these murders. I understand they’re conducting their own investigations in the countries in question. If any information should come to light which can expedite our investigations, and which does not compromise the source of this information, I shall forward to you immediately.’
The three officers looked at Jellicoe. It would be fair to say they were all impressed by what they saw. In Jellicoe they sensed a man who could head up an investigation as complicated as it was likely to be political. There was no question the level of scrutiny had risen. Each of the inspectors was relieved Jellicoe would be the public face of the investigation. The idea of dealing with the concerns of senior policemen, the press and politicians was anathema to the three men.
Jellicoe finished the impromptu meeting by saying, ‘Good governance is critical in this investigation. We need to work with porous walls, share information regularly, maintain frequent contact at all levels. Please, gentlemen, encourage cooperation as much as possible. Without it, we will fail. It’s as simple as that. Understood?’
There were murmurs of agreement from each of the men. Wishing each other luck, and meaning it, the meeting finished. Soon Jellicoe was alone in the conference with his thoughts, and they were dark thoughts. The prospect of Russian involvement in these murders had introduced a new level of complexity not to say urgency also. This was the stuff of sleepless nights. The case desperately needed a break, something to give it direction, focus and momentum. His wish was soon to be granted.
-
Esther Cavendish looked across the dinner table at Richard Bright. She wasn’t sure how she could have borne the last two weeks without him. His presence also brought pain, worse, it made her feel afraid. She realised that love, and pain are not like oil and water; they are, in fact, suffused together like the dark streaks in marble.
There is a sense of betrayal to someone you love when you find happiness with another. This sense is no less when it is family. She and Mary were close. They’d often discussed how they would feel when the inevitable happened; when someone would come who they would want to be with more than the other. A tacit promise existed for each to be free to experience falling in love without reproach or jealousy.
Now it was replaced by something almost unbearable: guilt. The guilt borne from anger at being denied the chance to fall in love freely. In place of the joy, she should be feeling was a numbness. She felt imprisoned. Only Mary could release her now. Until Mary returned, Esther would live with fear. This dread, she knew, was a selfish one. It was not just for Mary, but for herself. The thought of losing the man before her because she was not free to love him completely. It was like being unanchored in a sea of troubles.
Tears tricked down her cheeks.
‘I’m so sorry Richard.’
She felt his head against hers, his breath on her shoulder, a hand caressing hers. It was like a cool breeze on her face in summer. He cradled her in his arms. This was all she needed from him at this moment. It provided reassurance, certainty, and a balm for the wound. Slowly, the pain receded like the tide.
At the end of the meal, Bright led Esther to the hotel lift. It was the same routine, but Esther looked forward to it with a mixture of delight and dismay. A chaste kiss and embrace followed by separation, if only for a night. Bright stared up at her for as long as possible while the lift ascended.
The lobby of the hotel was empty except for one, rather large, man. Bright was glad not many people had witnessed such an intimate moment. He turned and made his way towards the exit. As he did so, he became aware of the man again. It seemed as if he was following him, or perhaps it was his imagination. He walked through the doors and into the cold night, pausing only briefly to nod to the doorman.
-
Kit sat alone in the flat, staring out at the night sky. The moon and the stars were obscured behind a dense, black shroud. Kit felt jealous of their ability to hide. He wished he could disappear also, sometimes. But where? And without her. Never.
A knock at the door intruded upon his melancholy. Expecting to see Bright, Kit went to the door himself. Instead, it was a young man delivering a telegram. After tipping him, Kit took the telegram inside and opened it.
He stared at the telegram. Miller arrived late to the corridor to see Kit staring in shock at the note.
‘Is everything alright, sir?’ asked Miller.
‘No, Harry, it’s just become worse.’
Chapter 22
Harry Miller was holding the young woman from the Telegraph Office close. Only moments would pass before he was kissing her. He desperately wanted to draw this moment of anticipation out a little longer. At last, she was finally in his arms, looking in his eyes, lips apart. The sound of his heart beating was deafening. How could she not hear it? Blood coursed through his veins as the excitement grew. She, too, was excited, unable to breathe almost, panting. Loudly. Her face moved closer to his. Her mouth opened. Then she began to lick his face.
Miller awoke with a start. Sam was on top of him. He wanted something.
‘Thanks Sam,’ said Miller, disgruntledly to the little dog. ‘That was the best dream I’ve had in ages.’
Sam, front paws on Miller’s chest looked down and tilted his head slightly. He nuzzled Miller. Sometimes these men didn’t get the message first time.
‘Let me guess. Food?’ asked Miller.
Sam gave a yelp to confirm assent and leapt off the bed and scuttled into the kitchen, slipping, as usual, just outside the door in his haste. Miller rose more slowly, put on his slippers, and shuffled off in pursuit of the terrier. Half an hour later breakfast was prepared for Kit and Bright. He lightly rapped on the doors of both men.
Lord Aston, thankfully as far as Miller was concerned, did not need help in being dressed. Miller found the idea bizarre that any fit and healthy adult would need such help. His only role in the morning was to get everyone awake and fed. After giving Kit a few minutes to wake he went into the room and opened the curtains.
‘Thank you, Harry,’ said a sleepy voice somewhere underneath a pillow.
Miller made his way towards Bright’s room. He gave the door a brief rap then entered. Much to his surprise, Harry found Bright’s room empty. The bed was as Miller had made it the previous morning. It was clear Bright had not slept in the room. Harry chuckled to himself.
‘Lucky devil.’
At the breakfast table, Kit noted the absence of his friend.
‘Where’s Richard? Is he still in bed?’.
‘Not sure sir. He didn’t sleep in his room last night,’ replied Miller, unable to suppress a smile.
Kit glanced at Harry with a raised eyebrow. He smiled also before saying, ‘I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions yet, Harry, if I read your smile correctly. And I think I do.’
Miller laughed, ‘You should be a detective sir. Would you like the newspaper sir?’ He placed the folded paper on the table beside Kit.
‘No thanks, Harry, let’s go to the hotel and pick-up Lady Esther. Not to check obviously,’ added Kit quickly. He, too, was smiling. He rose from the breakfast table and made his way into the living room. It looked like rain outside. Grey clouds moved with menacing purpose.
Kit stopped to look down
at the two chessboards again. The latest move by Serov, delivered the previous evening, had been a surprise. It had caught him out. He had not anticipated a continuation of the game in advance of their face-to-face encounter, furthermore, the move had been audacious.
Miller looked at Kit staring at the board, ‘Are we in trouble?’
‘Deep trouble, Harry, deep trouble. I looked at this but didn’t think he would be so brazen. He’ll almost certainly take my Castle in two moves. Not sure how I can stop him. He’s up to something. I wish I had more time to work out what that something is.’
‘Shall I bring your revolver to the match?’ smiled Harry.
‘You may need to Harry, at this rate,’ said Kit smiling grimly.
-
Kit walked into Esther’s hotel. There was no sign of her. He walked over to the reception and asked them to ring her room. No answer. Kit was not sure whether to be worried or to smile. As he stood at the reception desk pondering his options when he saw Esther step out of the lift. As she glided over through reception, looking around her, Kit was able to observe, with some amusement, the reaction of people to her as she passed them.
Men and women stopped and looked at her. Kit was not surprised. She was extraordinary. Her dark mauve dress was fashionably short stopping just beneath her knees. It emphasized her slender build and grace.
After a moment or two, she spotted Kit. She smiled and waved. A moment later the smile became a look of surprise and then a puzzled frown. It was a frown that reminded him so much of Mary, that Kit felt his heart crash through the wall of his chest. Trying not to alarm her, Kit walked forward to greet her with a smile.
‘Where’s Richard?’
‘I was hoping you could tell me,’ replied Kit. ‘He doesn’t appear to have come home last night.’
‘I don’t understand. He left me around eleven. He didn’t mention going to visit anyone,’ said Esther, clearly perplexed and now a little worried.
They both went out to the car. Rain was beginning to fall gently. Outside the hotel a newspaper boy stood beside a street billboard. In large, black capital letters against a stark white background were written: Latest Murder
Miller opened the door as Kit and Esther arrived at the car. They sped off towards the hospital. Neither said much in the car. The absence of Bright lay heavy in the air. For Esther, it rekindled the fear and insecurity lurking deep within. Was Richard trying to escape the day-to-day gloom of their life now? He had no role. There was nothing he could do to help Mary. The wedding would need planning, but Esther did not anticipate much help coming from him, nor would she want it. This would be a Cavendish sisters’ production. The thought of Mary prompted the wound to open wide. She could no longer stifle her feelings. All her defences were washed away by the flow of her emotions. Without Bright, she wasn’t sure how she could cope. The muffled sobs alerted Kit. He immediately put his arms around her.
‘Oh Kit. What if he’s had enough? I can’t do all this on my own.’
Holding her close he struggled to find something to say. The possibility that Esther Cavendish could possibly feel insecure had never occurred to him. It was almost laughable the idea of Richard Bright throwing her over. In any other circumstance he would certainly have made Esther see the funny idea of such an outlandish notion. Her body shook like a leaf in a gale. The storm subsided when they pulled up at the hospital.
They stood outside the hospital for a moment to allow Esther to compose herself. Then Kit led her in through the front entrance past the newspaper seller. Miller watched them go and drove to a nearby car park. He left the car and walked towards the hospital entrance. The headline on the newspaper seller’s board had caught his eye.
-
Kopel and Daniels were each reading an edition of the Daily Herald. Billy Peel had written the following:
As reported in yesterday’s special afternoon edition of the Daily Herald, the double murder of Trade Unionist, Herbert Yapp and Civil Servant, Sir Montagu Forbes-Trefusis is now a treble murder. The Daily Herald was sent another letter from the same group claiming responsibility for the murder, in Gloucester, of Bishop John Gordon. Police are treating this letter as genuine.
We believe that far from being an Irish republican group active in this country the murders may be the responsibility of a foreign government: Russia.
We know, Britain’s hostile attitude to workers extends beyond its own borders. Through its global imperialist adventures, Britain has time and again sought to exploit the poor, the dispossessed and working men from Australia to India to Africa and beyond. Is Britain, at long last, facing its day of judgement?
Police remain baffled by how the three men are linked but seem now to be discounting Irish involvement. Both Yapp and Forbes-Trefusis might have been considered legitimate targets for Irish republicans. The latest letter and the murder of Bishop Gordon takes the investigation into new territory.
Daniels looked up from his paper at Kopel, ‘How do you feel about this?’
‘This is what I wanted. Peel is proving remarkably useful. I’m glad Bergmann chose him,’ said Kopel, not looking up from the paper.
Daniels nodded but, in truth, was none the wiser. He liked Kopel, but, unlike Bergmann, he feared him also. The problem was Kopel could be opaque. Like their former co-conspirator, Fechin, Daniels would have preferred more demonstrable trust from the Kopel. Unlike Fechin, he accepted his role and did not question their plans or seek more information. He was always a soldier first and foremost. However, his curiosity about Bergmann overcame his usual reluctance to ask Kopel too many questions.
‘What of comrade Bergmann?’
As he said this, he noticed Serov had just joined them at the table. Daniels scolded himself for being indiscreet and he hoped Kopel would not be angry. Kopel smiled up at Serov, who was usually the last to arrive for breakfast, and folded his newspaper.
‘Filip, so good to see you. I trust you slept well.’
Serov looked around the breakfast room at the Waldorf Hotel. The surroundings were very much in the Art Deco style of the day. There was an open, airy feel to the décor that contrasted with the heavy, overworked interiors of hotels in his homeland. In place of heavy marble floors and railings, was parquet and thin metal rails, exuberantly shaped to delight the eye.
‘Yes, thank you, I feel quite refreshed.’
‘Well prepared also? Two days and you will be facing Aston.’
‘Yes, I feel ready,’ replied Serov before adding,’ I’d like to visit the venue soon, if I may.’
‘Good idea, Filip. We shall arrange this for later today. Is this convenient?’
A waitress came over to take Serov’s order. She looked uncertainly at the big Russian, as she had overheard them speaking in a foreign language.
Serov smiled at her and replied, in accented English, ‘Tea please.’ Then added, ‘Earl Grey.’
‘I heard you talking about comrade Bergmann. Will he be attending the match also? It’s been a while now since we’ve seen him.’
Kopel smiled towards both men and replied, ‘I’m not sure now if it will be possible. Other matters have arisen requiring his attention.’
Daniels and Serov glanced at one another. Neither seemed entirely happy with the answer, but neither seemed inclined to probe further.
-
Kit and Esther sat either side of the bed, each holding Mary’s hand. Without Bright the atmosphere felt different. Both more relaxed and more tense, Kit couldn’t decide which. They had spoken more to one another during the morning than they had at any point over Christmas, when they had first met.
At one point, Esther looked at Kit with a mischief he had not seen since those first days, ‘Did I ever have a chance?’
Kit smiled, ‘Well I certainly liked both of you. For what it matters, Esther, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so beautiful. I could see Richard was smitten immediately. I was quite jealous.’
‘Of Richard and me?’
‘Yes. And
then I wasn’t sure if it was you or Mary he liked.’
‘I think this probably clarified matters for you regarding Mary and myself,’ said Esther with a surprising degree of insight.
‘Yes, I rather think it did,’ admitted Kit smiling boyishly.
‘What do you think has happened Kit?’ said Esther, the frown returning to her face.
She looked as fragile as he had ever seen her. The loss of her grandfather, Mary’s coma and now the disappearance of Richard were taking their toll. Dark circles had appeared beneath her eyes which were still red from the tears.
‘I wish I knew Esther. He said nothing to me about meeting anyone. The only thing I’m completely certain of is how crazy he is about you. Whatever has happened, I don’t believe this has changed or ever will change. The Cavendish girls have cast a spell on us.’
Esther looked at Kit and smiled gratefully. It wasn’t much, but, for the moment, it was enough.
Suddenly Esther gave a start. A hint of a twitch in Mary’s hand.
‘Did you feel that?’ said Esther, staring at Kit.
‘Yes, you felt it too?’ replied Kit looking down at Mary. He lifted her hand in his. ‘Come on my love. Come back.’
-
Miller saw Kit and Esther walk through the front entrance of the hospital. He put the Daily Herald down and drove the short distance to collect them. Outside the hospital, a newspaper seller shouted the latest news.
Miller opened the door to Kit and Esther, and both climbed into the back of the car.
‘That’s terrible, isn’t it?’ said Esther as she sat down.
‘What is?’ asked Kit, obliviously.
‘The news. There was another murder. They burned him at a stake,’ continued Esther with a shudder.
‘How horrible. Is it connected with the other murders?’ inquired Kit.
