‘Perhaps I could take over, sir,’ he suggested.
‘It’s like trying to get blood from a stone,’ said Tallis.
‘Then let me relieve you.’
‘If you wish.’
Tallis withdrew reluctantly to a corner of the room and watched.
Colbeck brought a chair and placed it directly in front of Shannon. He sat down so that he was very close to him.
‘When I first came to France,’ he told Shannon, ‘I brought my assistant with me – Sergeant Victor Leeming.’
‘I knew he was a bleeding copper,’ said the other with derision. ‘I could smell him. I enjoyed beating him up.’
‘I’m glad you mention beating someone up because that’s the subject I was just about to raise with you. Would you describe your friends – Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy – as violent men?’
‘They’re Irish – they like a decent brawl.’
‘The same goes for me,’ said Mulryne, happily.
‘I’m only interested in Mr Shannon’s friends,’ said Colbeck. ‘At least, they’re his friends at the moment. That, of course, may not last.’
Shannon was guarded. ‘What are you on about?’
‘The contents of your pockets.’
‘Eh?’
‘When we searched you earlier, you were carrying a large amount of money. A very large amount, as it happens. Where did it come from, Mr Shannon?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘it’s our business as well. And it’s certainly the business of your three friends. We searched them as well, you see, and they had substantially less money on them. Even allowing for the fact that they had spent some of it on drink, they were clearly paid far less than you for any work that they did.’ He turned to Mulryne. ‘How much were you paid for tipping over those wagons?’
‘A week’s wages,’ replied Mulryne.
‘Mr Shannon had over two years’ wages in his pocket, Brendan. Unless, that is, Mr Brassey has been particularly philanthropic. What this all indicates to me is that one person held on to most of the money he’d been paid while the other three were deprived of their fair share. That’s robbery. What do you think the others would do to Mr Shannon if they knew the truth?’
‘Break every bleeding bone in his body, Inspector.’
‘That’s the least they’d do, I should imagine.’
‘I earned that money,’ insisted Shannon. ‘I had the brains to plan things. The others are all fucking boneheads.’
‘I’ll pass on that charming description of their mental powers when I talk to them,’ said Colbeck, smoothly, ‘and I must thank you for admitting that you were, after all, paid by someone else.’ He flicked a glance at Tallis. ‘Our first trickle of blood from the stone.’
Shannon sat up. ‘I’m not saying another fucking word.’
‘Then you’re throwing away any hope of defending yourself. When we hand you over to the French police, you’ll be charged under their law and in their language. When you get into court,’ Colbeck went on, ‘you won’t understand a single word of what’s going on so you’ll be unable to offer anything by way of mitigation.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a way of shortening the sentence you’re likely to get. If you claim – as you did earlier – that everything that happened was your idea, then you’ll face several years in prison. If, on the other hand, you were simply obeying someone else’s orders – and if you tell us who that someone is – your sentence might be less severe. In fact, I’d make a point of telling the French police how helpful you’ve been.’
‘And he’d tell them in French,’ said Mulryne, proudly. ‘He speaks the lingo. Doesn’t he, Superintendent?’
‘Yes,’ said Tallis.
‘What about you, sir? Do you speak French?’
‘I’d never let it soil my lips.’
‘To sum up,’ said Colbeck, bestowing a bland smile on Shannon, ‘it’s a pity that you’ve elected to hold your tongue. You might need it to plead for mercy when we lock you up with your friends and tell them about the monetary arrangements you decided upon. When you get to court, however,’ he went on, ‘you can talk all you like to no effect because they won’t bother to hire interpreters for someone who was caught red-handed committing a crime. Expect a long sentence, Mr Shannon – after your friends have finished with you, that is.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s take him over there, Brendan.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Mulryne.
‘Wait!’ cried Shannon, as they each laid a hand on him. ‘There was someone who put us up to this.’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ said Colbeck.
‘But I don’t know his name.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that?’
‘It’s true, Inspector – I’d swear on the fucking gospel.’
‘There’s no need for blasphemy!’ shouted Tallis. ‘Keep a civil tongue in your head.’
‘You must have known who this man was,’ said Colbeck. ‘How did he get in touch with you in the first place?’
‘I was in a police cell,’ admitted Shannon. ‘Only for a week or so. There was an affray at a tavern in Limehouse and I got caught up in it by mistake. Anyway, this man read about it in the paper and saw that I was a navvy. He came to see me and asked me if I’d ever worked for Tom Brassey. That’s how it all started.’
‘Go on,’ invited Colbeck.
‘He tested me out then decided I might be his man.’
‘What name did he give?’
‘None at all,’ said Shannon, ‘but I did hear one of the coppers calling him “Luke” – you know, as if they were friends. I called him by that name once and he swore blue murder at me.’
‘How did he pay you?’
‘He waited until I’d got a job with Mr Brassey and settled in here. Then he told me what to do first so that I could prove myself. Once I’d done that,’ said Shannon, ‘he paid me the first half of the money so that I’d have enough to take on people I could trust.’
‘And cheat easily,’ said Mulryne.
‘It’s their own bleeding fault for being so stupid.’
Colbeck’s ears pricked up. ‘You say that you had the first half of the money?’ Shannon nodded. ‘When would you get the other half?’
‘When we brought the railway to a standstill.’
‘But how would you get in touch with Luke?’
‘He gave me an address in London,’ said Shannon. ‘I was to leave a message there, saying what we’d done. Once he could confirm it, he promised to leave the second half of the money for me to collect it. And – as God’s my witness – that’s the fucking truth!’
‘We’ll need that address,’ said Colbeck.
‘As long as you don’t tell the others about the money.’
‘We don’t bargain with criminals,’ said Tallis.
‘It’s a reasonable request, sir,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘and, now that he appreciates the predicament that he’s in, Mr Shannon has been admirably cooperative. Some reward is in order, I believe.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shannon with great relief.
‘We’ll need that address, mind you.’
‘I’ll give it to you, Inspector.’
‘There you are, Superintendent,’ said Mulryne, hands on his hips. ‘You should have let the Inspector question him from the start. He’s a genius at getting blood from a bleeding stone.’
Luke Rogan was working in his office when he heard the doorbell ring insistently. He looked out of the front window to see Sir Marcus Hetherington standing there while a cab waited for him at the kerb. Rogan was surprised. The only place they ever met was in the privacy of the Reform Club. If he had come to the office, Sir Marcus must have something of prime importance to discuss. Rogan hurried along the passageway and opened the door. Sweeping in without a word, Sir Marcus went into the office and waited for Rogan to join him.
‘What’s the matter, Sir Marcus?’ asked Rogan.
‘This,’
said the other, thrusting a newspaper at him. ‘This is what is the matter, Rogan. Look at the second page.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do as I say.’
‘Very well, Sir Marcus.’
Rogan opened the newspaper and scanned the second page. He soon realised why his visitor had come. What he was looking at was a report of the arrest of four men who were accused of trying to disrupt work on the railway that was being built between Mantes and Caen. Rogan recognised one of the names – that of Pierce Shannon – and assumed that the others were his accomplices. The name that really jumped up at him, however, was not that of the prisoners but of the man who had helped to capture them.
‘Inspector Colbeck!’ he gasped.
‘Read the last paragraph,’ instructed Sir Marcus. ‘The much-vaunted Railway Detective believes that he now has evidence that will lead him to the person or persons responsible for the murder of Gaston Chabal. In short,’ he said, hitting the top of the desk hard with his cane, ‘evidence that points to you and me.’
‘But that’s impossible!’
‘So you assured me.’
‘Shannon didn’t even know my name.’
‘He’s obviously told them enough to steer them towards you.’
‘He couldn’t have, Sir Marcus.’
‘Then how do you explain this report?’
‘Colbeck is bluffing,’ said Rogan, trying to convince himself. ‘He’s done this before. He pretends to be in possession of more information than he really has in the hope of making someone fly into a panic and give themselves away.’
‘The newspaper certainly gave me a sense of panic,’ confessed Sir Marcus. ‘My wife thought I was having a heart attack when I read that – and I almost did.’
‘He knows nothing, Sir Marcus.’
‘Then how did he manage to arrest four men in France?’
‘Pure luck.’
‘Colbeck never relies on luck. He believes in a combination of tenacity and cold logic. He’s been quoted to that effect more than once. I do not want his tenacity and logic to lead him to me.’
‘That’s out of the question, Sir Marcus.’
‘Is it?’
‘I’m the only person that knows you were my client.’
‘Do you keep records?’ asked the other, glancing down at the desk. ‘Do you have an account book with my name in it?’
‘Of course not. I know how to be discreet.’
‘I hope so, Rogan.’
‘Colbeck will not get within a mile of us.’
‘What can he possibly have found out?’
‘Nothing of value.’
‘He must have squeezed something out of those Irishmen.’
‘Shannon was the only one I had dealings with. The others don’t even know that I exist. And all that Shannon can do is to give them a rough description of me.’ Rogan showed snaggly teeth in a grin. ‘That means he’d be describing thousands of men who look just like me.’
Sir Marcus relaxed slightly. He removed his top hat and sat down on a chair, resting his cane against a wall. Rogan took the unspoken hint and went to a small cupboard. Taking out a bottle of whisky, he poured two glasses and handed one to his visitor.
‘Thank you,’ said the old man, tasting the whisky. ‘I’d hoped to toast our success but our plans have obviously gone awry.’
‘We can try against at a later date, Sir Marcus.’
‘This was our chance and we missed it.’
‘Bide our time, that’s all we have to do.’
‘Until a certain detective comes knocking on our doors.’
‘That will never happen,’ said Rogan, airily. ‘The one thing that Shannon knows is an address where he was to leave a message. Nobody at that address knows my name or where I live. It was simply a convenient way of paying Shannon the second half of his fee when his work was completed.’
‘But it was not. He failed and you failed.’
Rogan was hurt. ‘You can’t put the blame on me.’
‘You selected this idiot.’
‘With the greatest of care, Sir Marcus. I asked a friend about him before I even went near him. He told me that Shannon was full of guile and quite fearless. That’s the kind of man we wanted.’
‘Then why has he let us down so badly?’ asked Sir Marcus. ‘And why is Inspector Colbeck coming back to England with such apparent confidence to hunt down Chabal’s killer?’
‘He’s trying to frighten us.’
‘He frightened me, I can tell you that.’
‘You’re as safe as can be, Sir Marcus,’ Rogan assured him, taking a first sip of his whisky. ‘So am I. London is a vast city. He could search for fifty years and still not find us. Colbeck has no idea where to start looking.’
‘There’s that address you gave to Shannon.’
‘A dead end. It will lead him nowhere.’
‘Supposing that he does pick up our scent?’
‘I’ve told you. There’s no hope of him doing that.’
‘But supposing – I speak hypothetically – that he does? Colbeck has already come much farther than I believed he would so we must respect him for that. What if he gets really close?’
‘Then he’ll regret it,’ said Rogan, coolly.
When he got back from work that evening, Caleb Andrews found a meal waiting for him. Since he had good news to impart about the murder investigation, he surrendered his paper to Madeleine and drew her attention to the relevant report. She was thrilled to read of Robert Colbeck’s success in France. Her faith in him had never wavered and she had been disturbed by the harsh criticism he had received in the press. Public rebuke had now been replaced by congratulation. He was once again being hailed for his skill as a detective.
When the meal was over, Andrews was in such an ebullient mood that he challenged his daughter to a game of draughts. He soon repented of his folly. Madeleine won the first two games and had him on the defensive in the third one.
‘I can’t seem to beat you,’ he complained.
‘You were the one who taught me how to play draughts.’
‘I obviously taught you too well.’
‘When we first started,’ she recalled, ‘you won every game.’
‘The only thing I seem to do now is to lose.’
He was spared a third defeat by a knock on the front door. Glad of the interruption, he was out of his chair at once. He went to the door and opened it. Robert Colbeck smiled at him.
‘Good evening, Mr Andrews,’ he said.
‘Ah, you’re back from France.’
‘At long last.’
‘We read about you in the paper.’
‘Don’t keep Robert standing out there,’ said Madeleine, coming up behind her father. ‘Invite him in.’
Andrews stood back so that Colbeck could enter the house, remove his hat and, under her father’s watchful eye, give Madeleine a chaste kiss on the cheek. They went into the living room. The first thing that Colbeck saw was the draughts board.
‘Who’s winning?’ he asked.
‘Maddy,’ replied Andrews, gloomily.
‘This game was a draw, Father,’ she said, eyes never leaving Colbeck. ‘Oh, it’s so lovely to see you again, Robert! What exactly happened in France?’
‘And why did you have to solve crimes on their railways? Don’t they have any police of their own?’
‘They do, Mr Andrews,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but this was, in a sense, a British crime. It was almost like working over here. British contractors have built most of their railways and French locomotives are largely the work of Thomas Crampton.’
‘I’m the one person you don’t need to tell that to, Inspector,’ said Andrews, knowledgeably. ‘In fact, there are far more Cramptons in France than here in England. Lord knows why. I’ve driven three or four of his engines and I like them. Shall I tell you why?’
‘Another time, Father,’ said Madeleine.
‘But the Inspector is interested in engineering, Maddy.’
‘This is not the best moment to discuss it.’
‘What?’ Andrews looked from one to the other. ‘Well, perhaps it isn’t,’ he said, moving away. ‘Now where did I leave my tobacco pouch? It must be upstairs.’ He paused at the door. ‘Don’t forget to show him that picture you drew of the Sankey Viaduct, Maddy.’
He went out of the room and Colbeck was able to embrace Madeleine properly. Over her shoulder, he saw that the tobacco pouch was on the table beside the draughts. He was grateful for her father’s tact. He stood back but kept hold of her hands.
‘What’s this about the Sankey Viaduct?’
‘Oh, it was just something I sketched to pass the time,’ she said. ‘It’s probably nothing at all like the real thing.’
‘I’d be interested to see it, all the same.’
‘Your work is far more important than mine, Robert. Come and sit down. Tell me what’s happened since I last saw you.’
‘That would take far too long,’ he said, as they sat beside each other on the sofa. ‘I’ll give you a shortened version.’
He told her about his visit to Paris and his long conversation with Gaston Chabal’s mother-in-law. Madeleine was startled by the revelation that the engineer appeared to have seduced another woman for the sole purpose of gaining an additional investor in the railway. She was fascinated to hear of Brendan Mulryne’s success as a spy and pleased that Superintendent Tallis had been forced to admit that the Irishman had performed a valuable service.
‘Mr Tallis couldn’t actually bring himself to thank Brendan in person,’ said Colbeck. ‘That would have been asking too much. What he did concede was that the notion of putting an informer into the ranks of the navvies had, after all, been a sensible one.’
‘Coming from the superintendent, that’s high praise.’
‘I pointed out that Brendan Mulryne would be an asset if he were allowed to rejoin the police force but Mr Tallis would not hear of it. He’d sooner recruit a tribe of cannibals.’
‘Why is he so critical of your methods?’
‘There’s always been a degree of animus between us.’
The Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series) Page 73
