The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  ‘What next morning Colin?’

  As Ratcliff said this, they heard a door crash open downstairs. Footsteps followed up the stairs. Moments later they heard their front door knocker.

  A voice he did not recognise shouted ‘Police.’

  Ratcliff looked up once more to Cornell then said in a voice just audible enough to be heard, ‘In here. I’m unarmed.’

  -

  Hearing Ratcliff’s voice, the policemen took out and readied their revolvers. Kit stepped in front of them and Jellicoe, holding his hand up.

  ‘No. Let me.’

  Jellicoe looked unhappy and said, ‘Lord Aston, I must insist. He may be armed. There may be others in there armed. We can’t take a chance.’

  ‘No Chief Inspector. I know this man. Follow me. No guns please.’

  Not waiting for a response Kit walked through the door, followed by an unhappy Jellicoe. He walked along a short corridor and through an open door. The room was dark save for a small table lamp lit behind Ratcliff. Kit’s eyes went straight to Ratcliff sitting at the table. He could see the half-drunk bottle of whisky and the newspaper, with the pictures of Bergmann and Daniels on the front. Jellicoe stood beside Kit and for a moment there was silence in the room.

  ‘What have you done Roger?’ asked Kit, his voice barely a whisper.

  ‘You have to believe me Kit, I knew nothing of what was happening,’ replied Ratcliff. The tears began to stream down his face. He lifted his hand to wipe his cheek. It was then Kit saw the pills on the table.

  ‘What are those?’ Kit asked in a stronger voice.

  ‘It’s too late Kit,’ rasped Ratcliff, ‘but you must believe me. I knew nothing of the murders until I saw the newspaper. He used me. He betrayed us Kit. I see that now.

  ‘Who Ratcliff?’ interjected Jellicoe, ‘Kopel?’

  Ratcliff nodded but looked up at Kit, ‘He used me to get to you Kit. I’m so sorry Kit.’

  ‘Roger, what’s their plan? Tell me quickly,’ said Kit, now over by the table standing over Ratcliff.

  ‘Ask Colin, he’ll tell you Kit,’ said Ratcliff weakly, ‘I knew nothing.’

  ‘Who is Colin?’ demanded Jellicoe loudly, ‘Tell me man.’

  But it was too late. Ratcliff’s face fell forward, his lifeless still eyes open.

  Jellicoe turned wildly to Kit, ‘What did he mean, ask Colin?’

  Kit turned to Jellicoe. His face was desolate but there was something else. Jellicoe looked at Kit. The tall lord was shaking his head in puzzlement.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Kit, ‘Colin Cornell?’

  Part 3: End Game

  Chapter 31

  Petrograd, Russia: 11th November 1917 (November 23rd, 1917) - Early morning

  ‘We’ve been betrayed,’ said Ratcliff to the assembled men in the room. Kit, Olly Lake and Colin Cornell looked at their commanding officer. None of them seemed surprised by this announcement.

  ‘It’s been coming,’ said Cornell, ‘Too many people know us now.’

  ‘Somewhat defeated the notion of the Far-Reaching System, don’t you think?’ said Lake sourly. This brought a sharp look from Ratcliff to Lake, who merely shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘You may think this a time for your brand of humour, Olly, I don’t,’ admonished Ratcliff, although not too strongly, ‘The plain fact is we have to leave Petrograd until we’re in a position to return. We’ll need to create new identities. I’m fairly certain Hoare’s team will also have to leave.’

  Kit finally spoke up, ‘So what are our instructions? Who stays, who goes?’

  Ratcliff nodded to Kit, thankful to return to the reason for the meeting.

  ‘Kit, you and Colin will make your way to Helsingfors. A launch will take you to Kronstadt. It leaves tonight at six. At midnight, a boat is leaving Kronstadt bound for Helsingfors. This is the bit you won’t like. The secret police are watching all ports for British agents. You’ll meet the boat out on the Gulf itself. The captain can’t risk taking you before then. Rebrov is in Kronstadt, he’ll meet you there and take you to a rowing boat at Fort Rif. You’ll row out from there and get picked up by the boat.’

  Cornell and Kit looked at one another, each with the same thought.

  ‘Roger, can we be sure Rebrov has not sold us out?’ asked Cornell.

  ‘I’d stake my life on it, Colin,’ replied Ratcliff firmly.

  ‘Strictly speaking, it’s our lives that our being staked,’ said Cornell, smiling grimly. Ratcliff smiled back and nodded. It was difficult to argue against this.

  Ratcliff turned his attention to Olly Lake, ‘You’ll stay on if that’s your wish.’

  ‘It is,’ said Lake.

  ‘Where’s Kristina?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Safe. I’ll join her soon. We’ll make our way to Moscow in the next day or two,’ replied Lake.

  ‘They’ll be after her too, won’t they? They’ll think she can lead them to Kerensky,’ pointed out Kit.

  ‘True, but these people are, fundamentally, idiots. When I’m in Moscow I’ll be joining the Secret Police along with Roger, here.’

  Kit looked askance at Ratcliff.

  ‘It’s true, Kit,’ said Ratcliff, ‘We’ve been planning for this contingency for a while now. We still have some friends there, that’s how we received this tip off.’

  ‘Do they know who betrayed us?’ asked Kit.

  ‘No but it goes all the way up to Felix Dzerzhinsky’

  Mention of Dzerzhinsky quietened the room. He had been a central figure in the Revolution. Currently he headed the Bolshevik security but was rumoured to be reforming the Russian secret police. If he was involved in the search for British agents, then they were up against a formidable opponent.

  Kit felt relieved to be going. The atmosphere since the end of the Revolution was, if anything, even more febrile than before. Already food was becoming scarcer than dogs or horses on the streets. Kit was sure the two were linked. He looked at his old friend Olly Lake. Staying in Russia would be dangerous, but his friend was suicidally attracted to danger in a way he could not understand. But it was more than just the danger. It was Kristina. This made more sense, but Kit suspected he would have stayed anyway.

  Lake caught Kit looking at him. He smiled and nodded his head to reassure Kit. Ratcliff turned towards Kit and Cornell.

  ‘From Helsingfors you’re to make your way directly to Stockholm. “C” is moving our centre of operations there. I understand you’ll receive further instructions in Stockholm.’

  Kit and Cornell both nodded, neither said anything else. The four men looked at one another in silence. Finally, Ratcliff ended the meeting.

  ‘Well gentlemen, this is it. I hope we shall meet up again one day in London, soon, when this ghastly business in Europe is over.’

  The four men shook hands and wished each other luck. Kit and Cornell each grabbed a small bag. Kit turned to Lake and smiled.

  ‘See you in the library at Sheldon’s.’

  -

  For what seemed like the thirtieth time that night, Cornell cursed the moonlight as he and Kit trudged their way along the coastline of Kotlin Island. Behind them the town of Kronstadt was brightly lit, but it was the light of the moon overhead that concerned them.

  ‘You lack a sense of romance Colin,’ said Kit, although he was worried. Their companion Rebrov was uncommunicative. He was clearly unhappy at having to accompany these men. This worried both Kit and Cornell. The sense of treachery hung heavy in the air. Neither knew Rebrov. He was Ratcliff’s contact. His demeanour suggested he would rather be anywhere else than with them. Kit couldn’t blame him for this, but would he go so far as to betray them?

  The three men kept up a good pace. They needed to; such was the cold. Kit wore several layers of underclothes and a heavy leather coat. It was barely enough against the icy chill. Cornell had long since abandoned his bag, but Kit had kept his backpack for reasons that even he found scarcely credible. He was carrying a first edition of ‘Anna Karenina’ to add
to his Tolstoy collection. It was clearly a folly, but walking along the coast, near midnight, with the secret police on their tail was madness anyway.

  Suddenly, Rebrov dived to the ground behind some scrub. Kit and Cornell did likewise. Rebrov pointed ahead. They could see several torches and several men. Cornell glanced nervously at Kit.

  Kit shrugged. He wasn’t sure if it was just a patrol or whether they were searching for them. Instinctively his hand moved down to the revolver in his pocket. Cornell was of a similar mind. His revolver was out of his pocket and it was clear he was ready to shoot Rebrov should their companion do anything to give away their position.

  The patrol walked inexorably towards where they were hidden. Quietly, Kit removed the revolver from his pocket. His breathing became shallower and the sound of his heart, thumped like a tympanum against his chest. How could they not hear this?

  Closer came the patrol. Kit tensed. His revolver, like Cornell’s, was pointed through the scrub, directly at the patrol. A light breeze caused the scrub to tickle Kit’s face. It was freezing cold but a bead of sweat developed on his forehead.

  Closer.

  There were four men. The problem wasn’t killing them. Both he and Cornell were expert marksmen. It was the noise. It would give them away and there was nowhere to run. It was also the idea of cold-blooded murder. The slaughter of France seemed less intimate than what they faced here. Kit recoiled at the thought.

  The four men passed to within a few yards of Kit and his companions. They were laughing and joking. Was this a diversion or were they really not on the lookout for anyone? Kit held his breath. And then they were past. Walking ahead, oblivious to the presence of the men huddled behind the scrub.

  The three men eyed the patrol all the way to the crest of the hill, and then they were gone. They waited another two minutes and then Rebrov stood up and marched ahead. Cornell and Kit replaced their guns and glanced at one another in shared relief. Just over the next knoll, they could see Gulf open out in front of them. A few minutes later they were on the beach. In the distance was a small rowing boat tied to a jetty.

  Rather than walk onto the sand, they picked their way along the edge of the beach, fearful of the exposure. Finally, they reached the jetty and climbed into the rowing boat. They had ten minutes to row out to the point at which the boat could rendezvous with them. Rebrov helped them push the boat out onto the water. Each took an oar and began to row at a steady pace. They could see Rebrov wave to them and then turn to walk away.

  The breeze was stronger once they had escaped the immediate confines of the beach. The water chopped up over the sides. A glance back told Kit that Rebrov was away from the beach safely. He turned back and focused on rowing away from the shore.

  Just in time, they saw the lights of the fishing boat sailing towards them. Kit stopped rowing for a moment and shone a torch to indicate their position. On board the boat, they saw someone hold a torch up in reply. They continued to row.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ rasped Cornell, ‘Look.’

  Kit turned around. On the headland at Fort Rif, they could see several men holding torches. Moments later they came under fire. Both ducked low. The rowing boat was struck half a dozen times but was well made. The bullets could penetrate no further.

  The fishing boat was now alongside them. A rope ladder was thrown down over the side. Cornell arched his head towards the ladder, indicating for Kit to go first.

  Kit let go of the oar and scrambled towards the bow of the rowing boat. Grabbing hold of the ladder he hoisted himself off the boat and onto the second rung. He felt something thud into him. No pain. He continued climbing. Within seconds he was grabbed by several hands and hauled onto the deck of the fishing boat.

  Cornell was onto the ladder quickly. Unencumbered by the backpack, he made swift progress. Kit, sensing his arrival, stood up to help him onto the boat. He grasped the arm of Cornell as it appeared over the side and hauled with all his might. As Cornell appeared, his head jerked back suddenly.

  Kit pulled him onto the boat. But Cornell was already dead. Kit stared down at the body of Cornell lying on the deck. His head encircled by a halo of blood.

  ‘Oh God, Colin.’

  Kit felt himself being pulled roughly down onto the deck. He nodded to the seaman who had, in all probability, saved his life. Shots were still being fired, but Kit could not hear them. He stared into the eyes of his dead companion. The boat tilted in the waves. Kit looked down as the blood ran slowly along the deck onto his hand.

  Chapter 32

  Jellicoe stared at Kit then shook his head in disbelief. Their chief suspect was dead and the only lead he could give them was a man who was also dead. It was clear Kit was caught between grief for his old commanding officer and anger for having been used. He put his hand on Kit’s arm.

  More police had arrived on the scene. The lights in the room were on. Kit glanced once more at Ratcliff. A wave of pity overcame him. It didn’t have to be this way, he thought. The guilt must have been unbearable. If Ratcliff was telling the truth it meant someone else was responsible for the murders. Not only this, but also for the original betrayal back in Petrograd. An image of Colin Cornell swam into view. Another image followed it: a book with a bullet embedded in it. He looked down at his hands. There was no blood on them.

  ‘Search the flat’ ordered Jellicoe to the other policemen. Find something that can tell us who Ratcliff has been in contact with. Find me someone.’

  From the pit of his stomach, Kit felt a cold fear grip him again. It had started in the car journey and returned, this time more strongly. He knew Ratcliff was telling them the truth, and he knew who was responsible and he knew why.

  He turned to Jellicoe.

  ‘It’s Olly.’

  Jellicoe glanced back at Kit, confused. Olly?

  ‘Olly Lake is Kopel,’ said Kit in a voice that mixed certainty with anguish and something else: anger.

  ‘How can you be so sure? Shouldn’t we wait for the artist impression?’ replied the astounded Jellicoe.

  Kit walked absently over to the sofa and sat down. He needed to think. The commotion in the room was distracting. He rose to his feet slowly and walked out of the flat, somewhere quiet. The corridor was cold, but it acted to sharpen his senses. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jellicoe follow him. The Chief Inspector remained quiet, thankfully, and left Kit to his thoughts.

  Why hadn’t they killed Adam Walsh? Kit walked up the corridor outside Ratcliff’s apartment. It made no sense. Yet this was key. They hadn’t killed him for a reason. It was important he lived. It was even more important he was found, saved even. Kit’s mind raced furiously. They needed him to live.

  ‘Why didn’t they kill Walsh?’ asked Kit but more to himself than anyone else.

  ‘Perhaps they thought they had,’ suggested Jellicoe.

  Kit shook his head, ‘No. They wanted him alive. Olly wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.’

  Then a thought struck Kit. It reared in front of his eyes like a phantom, a silent scream in the night.

  ‘What hospital did they take him to?’ asked Kit, his eyes widened by the knowledge of the answer he expected to receive.

  Jellicoe thought for a moment, ‘I think I heard them say the hospital at…’

  ‘Teddington,’ finished Kit.

  ‘Yes, that’s the one,’ replied Jellicoe, unsure of what Kit was driving at.

  ‘We have to go to the hospital immediately,’ said Kit with urgency.

  ‘I don’t understand, Kit, why?’

  ‘You remember how we thought the ambulance was very quick in arriving? It was Olly. He’s the one who took Adam to the hospital, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘But why? I’m still not with you.’

  Kit was already moving down the stairs, forcing Jellicoe to follow him. The Chief Inspector gesticulated to other officers to follow.

  ‘The King and the Queen are visiting the hospital today. He’s going to kill them. It’s all been leading to this.�
��

  -

  The Teddington and Hampton Wick Cottage Hospital was nearly fifty years old and resembled a well-to-do suburban villa. In fact, the name of the building was Elfin Villas. The hospital had expanded, slowly, from its original four beds to twenty-four. But there were high hopes in the community of it growing further. Such was the pride in the hospital, many thousands of pounds were being raised to develop a nearby site to extend the hospital’s capacity. The presence of the Royal couple set the seal on its undeniable place in the healthcare of the community.

  Hundreds of locals were lined along Elfin Grove as Kit and the police drew up in several cars. All were waiting to see King George V and Queen Mary, the Queen Consort. Elfin Grove was a very narrow road. The combination of the crowd of locals as well as the police meant progress was slow. Jellicoe ordered the car to stop and he, Kit and another officer hopped out and made their way on foot to the hospital. Police presence was not heavy, noted Jellicoe sourly. He made his way towards an older officer he knew.

  ‘Hello sir,’ said the officer, recognising Jellicoe.

  ‘Hello Johnson, who’s in charge here?’

  Johnson pointed to a man dressed in plain, dark clothes, called Macintyre. He was clearly military. Ramrod straight back, and shiny black shoes. It was early evening, and the sky overhead was black. It felt like a storm was coming. Jellicoe glanced upwards at the sky and then at the crowds, amazed so many people could be bothered to stay out on such an evening. He made his way through several large policemen towards Macintyre, followed by Kit.

  ‘Are you Macintyre?’ said Jellicoe.

  Macintyre looked at Jellicoe suspiciously, ‘Yes, and you are?’ He had a Scottish brogue and clearly was in no mood for time wasters.

  ‘I’m Jellicoe from Scotland Yard,’ said the Chief Inspector, showing his identification. ‘We believe an attempt may be made to assassinate the King and Queen Consort today.’

  ‘Good lord! Why wasn’t I told of this?’ demanded Macintyre.