The Revenge of Captain Paine pm-2

by Andrew Pepper

  Tilling shook his head, clearly agitated now. ‘Whatever might or might not have happened, Peel simply won’t tolerate some kind of vigilante action.’

  ‘He should have thought of that before he sent me off on a wild-goose chase after Jackman and Captain Paine.’

  Tilling tried to wave the point away. ‘As you said, Captain Paine is nothing, a minor nuisance…’

  Pyke interrupted. ‘Except I found out tonight my wife is none other than Captain Paine and five days ago she was kidnapped together with my child.’

  For a long while after that, Fitzroy Tilling said nothing, but the stunned expression on his face told Pyke everything he needed to know.

  ‘And you think Gore might have arranged it?’ Tilling asked, still trying to come to terms with the shock.

  Pyke looked at Tilling and shrugged. He didn’t plan to tell him about Cumberland. He wanted to keep the pressure on Peel and his private secretary.

  ‘There hasn’t been a ransom demand yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how do you know they were kidnapped?’

  ‘I don’t. Perhaps it’s the optimist in me. I prefer to think they’ve been kidnapped rather than butchered like Jackman.’ Pyke swallowed the rest of his brandy and rose to his feet. ‘But maybe you can understand now why I want to do things my way.’

  ‘Pyke… I don’t know what to say apart from I’m sorry.’ All the wind had been taken from his sails.

  ‘Send word to Peel.’

  ‘And if he decides to stay in Drayton Manor?’

  Pyke allowed himself a smile. ‘Oh, he’ll return as quickly as his carriage’ll permit it. Don’t you worry about that.’

  Tilling stood up and followed him out into the hall. ‘Will you promise me to look after yourself?’

  ‘What? Peel cares about my safety now?’

  ‘I’m not speaking for Sir Robert now.’ He went to pat Pyke gently on the shoulder. ‘Look after yourself and be very careful. Underneath his charming facade, Abraham Gore is the nastiest, most ruthless man I have ever come across.’

  ‘By a degree, perhaps, but if you scratch the surface you’ll find that men like Gore and Peel have more in common than you think. Both are happy to employ abstract principles in order to conceal the whiff of moral depravity.’

  ‘If all politics was really like that, Pyke, we would have been buried as a human race long ago.’

  Pyke looked up at Tilling’s face and smiled. ‘You know something, Fitzroy? It’s a real shame you’ve devoted your life to cleaning up other people’s messes. You’re a much better and more intelligent man than the people you work for.’

  Tilling looked around him at the candle-blackened walls. ‘More intelligent maybe, but not nearly as rich.’ And when Pyke had reached the bottom of the steps that led down to the street, he called out, ‘Do you still want to know how Peel knew about you and Ned Villums?’

  Pyke spun around and felt the skin tighten across his face.

  ‘Your assistant, Nash.’

  ‘Nash told you?’

  Tilling nodded. ‘Peel needed something he could hold over your head.’

  ‘Do you know anything about his death?’

  ‘It was as much a surprise to us as I hope it was to you.’

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘For a while Peel reckoned you might have found out about his conversations with me and taken appropriate action.’

  ‘Cut off someone’s head?’

  Tilling reached down to pat the ginger cat on its head. ‘Well, you’re not exactly the squeamish type.’

  From the point at which the new railway disappeared under the Hampstead Road, Pyke gazed down at the man-made excavation cut deep into the earth beneath him and the intricate system of ropes and pulleys by which the workers hauled earth out of the ravine. A brick wall, fifty feet in height, had been built to support each side of the embankment and along each wall was a complex lattice of scaffolding and wooden planks for the barrows to move along. Farther down the hill, he could see the hazy outlines of Somers Town and New Road, where Bellows had bought up disused properties that would now be converted into railway hotels, boarding houses and cab stands at great profit. For a moment he watched as a crew of navvies hauled buckets of earth up out of the ravine using the pulley system. Red had been right, Pyke thought. It was grim, back-breaking toil and the navvies did it without complaint or pause for breath.

  A mammoth stationary engine house was starting to take shape on the east side of the ravine. This would house the monstrous contraption that Godfrey had told him about: the engine that would draw the trains up the steep incline from Euston. At present, however, its embryonic structure, a steam room and two half-built chimneys, teetered precariously on the bank and looked as though it might topple over into the ravine. Pyke continued to watch the comings and goings for a few minutes and, though it was hard not be impressed by the sheer scale of the project, he could think only about Jackman’s crucified body as he had seen it the previous night.

  Pyke found Abraham Gore where his private secretary said he would be — talking to the engineer and surveyor. When Gore saw him, he waved, as if greeting an old friend. Breaking off his conversation, he came over to where Pyke was standing and shook both his hands.

  ‘I’ve been trying to reach you at your bank,’ Gore said, his expression suddenly grave. ‘I’m afraid I’ve drawn a blank on the very serious matter we discussed at my office yesterday. But I’m still hopeful my contacts will be able to wheedle some information out of that idiot Bellows.’

  Pyke kept his expression composed. ‘I’m sure you’re doing all you can and it goes without saying your help is much appreciated.’

  Gore nodded his gratitude. ‘So what brings you here today?’ He glanced down at the scene in front of them with evident satisfaction.

  ‘If possible,’ Pyke started, trying to keep his tone matter-of-fact, ‘I’d like to revise the terms of our business agreement.’

  ‘Oh?’ Lines of concern instantly creased Gore’s forehead. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

  ‘You were willing to pay sixty thousand for a third stake in Blackwood’s bank.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So would you be prepared to pay one hundred thousand for my entire two-thirds stake?’

  Gore’s unease was suddenly palpable. He hadn’t expected this and for a while he was silent. ‘You want to sell me your entire stake in the bank?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Pyke checked himself, aware that his tone had perhaps been a little sharp.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask you why?’

  ‘After what’s happened to my wife and child,’ Pyke said carefully, ‘my heart is no longer in it.’

  Gore nodded, as though he understood. ‘But you surely don’t equate the two? This dreadful business regarding your family, on the one hand, and your running of the bank, on the other.’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what to think any more.’

  ‘I can well understand how you must be worried half to death at the moment and, believe me, no one wants to help you more than I do. But have you really thought about this? That’s to say, is it what you really want? You see, Pyke, I’d rather hoped we might work together. My reasons are selfish, I know, but as the years pass and my age catches up with me, I’ve started to look for suitable candidates to take over from me at Gore’s and I have to say no one has really excited me. I rather thought you were different.’

  ‘You had considered me as a candidate to take over from you at Gore’s when you retire?’ Pyke tried to feign both amazement and enthusiasm. He didn’t know whether he’d done a good job or not.

  ‘I thought you were a man cut from the same cloth as me,’ Gore replied, sounding injured and self-righteous.

  ‘But not any more?’ Pyke asked, fighting the urge to reach into Gore’s mouth and rip out his tongue.

  ‘Do you really think that when I was your age, I would have
sold out my interest in Gore’s?’

  ‘Then we’re perhaps not as alike as you imagined we were.’

  Gore studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I’d say you’re a rather complex man, Pyke. Relentlessly self-interested and oddly principled. Until now, I’d been hoping your better self might win the day.’

  ‘And that would be?’

  ‘Misguided principles have led many a good man to ruin.’

  This time Pyke let a little of his anger show. ‘And is the love of one’s family such a principle?’ He thought about Jackman, nailed to the crucifix, and the others who’d been killed, too.

  ‘A man’s place is in the public realm. That’s where his reputation and fortune are earned. And lost.’

  ‘So you’re intimating that my decision to want to sell my share in Blackwood’s is misguided?’

  Gore turned from him and gazed out across the construction site. ‘In its own way, it’s rather beautiful, isn’t it? Mark my words. It won’t be long before our poets are writing about scenes like this rather than mountains and lakes.’

  Pyke laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t think human exploitation will ever be celebrated as an aesthetic achievement.’ The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He waited to see how Gore would react.

  ‘I look down there and I see admittedly coarse specimens who are, nevertheless, being assimilated into the workforce. Is that such an evil? A year ago, many of these men would have qualified for poor relief. Now they’ve learned to sell their labour at the marketplace and they’re earning a fair wage dictated by the forces of supply and demand. And in the process, they’re helping to build something that will change everyone’s lives for ever.’

  Pyke allowed himself a quiet sigh. He would have to be more careful. His slip had unnecessarily alerted Gore’s suspicions. ‘I’m sure you’re right. But I didn’t come here today to debate the undoubted merits of your railway.’

  ‘No, you came to try and sell me your entire stake in Blackwood’s.’ Gore studied his expression.

  ‘If you wanted a third, then why not extend your stake to two-thirds? The bank’s a very profitable enterprise.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘The problem?’ Gore looked at him. ‘Who said there was a problem?’

  ‘You don’t seem to be particularly keen on the revised terms I’m offering you.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Gore murmured, scratching his chin. ‘Can I be blunt with you, Pyke?’

  ‘By all means.’

  ‘A man of your mettle doesn’t simply walk away when things get difficult and his problems mount up.’

  ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’

  Gore eyed him cautiously. ‘It looks very much like that.’

  ‘What’s happened in the last few weeks has made me reassess my priorities. Let’s just say your initial offer came at an opportune moment.’

  ‘Then it’s to be my fault the world of commerce loses one of its brightest stars?’

  A brief silence lingered between them. Pyke tried not to think about how Gore had used and betrayed him and how ruthlessly he had exploited his perceived friendship with Morris. ‘So does that mean we have an agreement?’ Pyke tried to inject a degree of hope into his voice.

  ‘I think you’re a fool but yes, we have an agreement.’ They shook hands but there was suddenly no warmth in Gore’s actions. Briefly Pyke wondered whether Gore already suspected that he knew about his complicity in Jackman’s death.

  If so, it meant Pyke would have to tread very carefully. It wasn’t just a question of getting his hands on Gore’s money. That was simply a means to an end.

  ‘Now it’s just a matter of agreeing a schedule for the exchange of contracts,’ Pyke said, trying to appear calm, when all he wanted to do was squeeze Gore’s neck with his hands.

  ‘I see no reason for delaying the matter.’

  ‘Nor I.’ Pyke even managed a smile. ‘In fact, I’d be happy to proceed as quickly as possible.’

  ‘What if I were to instruct my lawyers to draw up the contracts today? You could join me at my office later this afternoon and sign them then.’

  ‘In principle, it sounds perfectly acceptable,’ Pyke said, working out a way to turn the situation further to his advantage. ‘The only problem is whether you could arrange for the money to be transferred into my bank account by then.’

  That seemed to throw Gore off his stride, as it was meant to.

  ‘Of course,’ Pyke added quickly, ‘if you opened an account for me at Gore’s and credited my balance to the tune of a hundred thousand pounds, I could sign the necessary paperwork this afternoon.’

  The suspicion seemed to return to Gore’s eyes. ‘It’s a slightly odd request but one that could be accommodated.’

  ‘So we have a deal?’ Pyke held out his hand again.

  This time Gore took a little longer to shake it. The sun was directly in his eyes and he held up his hand to shield them from its glare. ‘I’m disappointed not to have you as my business partner,’ he said, gravely, ‘but it goes without saying I’ll continue to work round the clock to try and get to the bottom of this despicable business involving your wife and child. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll have more news for you when you come to my office this afternoon. Shall we say four? That should give my lawyers plenty of time to draw up the necessary contracts.’

  But Gore wasn’t quite finished with Pyke. Turning to him, he indicated the construction site and added, ‘They look like tiny ants, don’t they? Do you imagine for one second that if a terrible accident was to befall one of them, if someone was to drop dead right in front of our eyes, I would lose any sleep over it?’ Blinking, he continued to gaze out at the landscape before them. ‘A sense of perspective is sometimes needed, don’t you think?’

  Pyke watched Gore as he strolled back to rejoin the two surveyors and wondered whether he knew more about Emily’s and Felix’s abduction than he was letting on. Could he trust anything at all the man said or did? And had Gore already implicitly grasped the changed nature of their association?

  At least Pyke knew why Gore wanted to buy a stake in his bank. The committee of the Grand Northern Railway was due to meet early in the following week to appoint a new chairman and discuss future plans for the troubled venture. As Blackwood’s was one of the railway’s major creditors, a nominated figure from the bank would be allowed to sit on the committee and, as Morris had suggested at the outset, would be given three votes on any substantial issues. In a potentially tight contest, these votes could make all the difference.

  But according to Gore’s initial terms, Pyke could have retained a fifty-one per cent stake in Blackwood’s and therefore taken this position for himself. The question remained therefore: what did Gore know that he didn’t?

  Perhaps William Blackwood himself would have some answers.

  An hour or so later, Pyke found Blackwood sitting at the writing table in his office, stacking papers into neat piles. It was an orderly room with papered walls and varnished, grained oak furniture, a black marble fireplace and a clock ticking on the mantelpiece. Blackwood looked up at Pyke, his expression betraying surprise and fear. Nervously, he went to arrange a stray hair on his balding pate. Pyke closed the door and sat down. He waited for Blackwood to look at him and said, ‘You needn’t be afraid. I haven’t come to harm you. I just want to talk about our recent difficulties.’

  Blackwood glanced over at the door. ‘You do know if the police find you, they’ll arrest you on sight.’

  ‘Very soon, I’ll be the least of your worries.’

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘I want to know whether you took the loan papers from the vault.’ Pyke hesitated. ‘It’s a simple question and I’d like a straightforward answer.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t. To be honest, I thought you’d made the whole thing up, just to defraud the bank of the money.’ The indignation on Blackwood’s
face appeared genuine.

  ‘William, William.’ Pyke sighed. ‘Where did it all go wrong? For a few years we were a good team.’ He looked around the room. It was odd to think that this would be his last time in the building.

  When Blackwood didn’t speak, Pyke tapped his fingers on the polished surface of the writing table. ‘And that’s why you brought in this lawyer, Herries?’

  Blackwood nodded.

  ‘And no one prompted you to do it, had a quiet word in your ear, a few firm words of encouragement?’

  Pyke studied Blackwood’s expression carefully; in the end it was a slight twitch of the eyelid which gave his partner away. The indignation was gone, too. He was trying to give the impression he didn’t know what Pyke was talking about, but his denial struck a hollow note.

  Pyke pulled his chair a little closer to the table and said, ‘I’ve agreed to sell my share of the bank to an interested party. It’s something I thought you had a right to know.’

  Blackwood licked his lips and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Do I get to find out who I’m to be sold to?’

  ‘I think you already know the answer to that question.’

  ‘How on earth would I know?’

  ‘Initially Abraham Gore just wanted a third share of the bank. I proposed to retain a fifty-one per cent stake, which in effect would’ve meant selling Gore fifteen per cent of my stock and forcing you to relinquish, let’s say, eighteen per cent of your holdings. But you see, even if you voted with Gore, this would only have given him forty-eight or forty-nine per cent of the bank. I’d still retain overall control. What I can’t work out is why he only wanted a third of the bank and why, when I offered to sell him my entire share, he didn’t leap at the chance with both hands. Do you understand my predicament?’