‘It’s not a punishment. She wanted my best detective. Now Landseer’s gone that leaves you or Cath Dowling. And I doubt she’ll stay long.’
‘I’m being punished,’ Revelle repeated. ‘Punished for doing the right thing.’
‘Yes, well sometimes the right thing is the wrong thing,’ Albright said. He started down the cobbled roadway that led down from the main gate. ‘And arresting a senior member of the Council is definitely the wrong thing. You’re lucky you have a job at all.’
‘He’s guilty and I can prove it,’ Revelle said, catching him up.
‘Doesn’t matter what you can prove. He’s a Councillor.’
‘He’s a murderer.’
‘That too,’ Albright conceded. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about it, except stop you losing your job. We’re short enough of Watchmen as it is. And if you can get Miss Patterson the results she wants, that guarantees you a job, no matter what the Council say. For now.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up. Do you know what she wants?’
‘No, and I don’t want to. Don’t complain. You have to learn to pick the right fights. Or at least, the right time for the wrong ones.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And don’t get sarky.’
‘Sorry, sir. So why are you here?’ he asked. ‘Just checking I’m behaving myself? I’m honoured.’
‘Like hell you are.’
The road split, one way leading to a jetty where boats were moored. The other to the entrance to the tunnel system where Revelle had arrived. The moon glinted on the waters as Albright stopped at the junction.
‘I need you over at Whispers. There’s been a murder.’
‘There was a murder last week,’ Revelle reminded him. ‘At Councillor Halbard’s house. There are murders every day in the City.’
‘Not in Whispers Cathedral there aren’t. So you get over there and sort it out. I don’t expect immediate results. Take a look, get it cleaned up.’
‘But you do want results? Just so I know before I do the wrong right thing again.’
Albright met Revelle’s gaze. ‘I really don’t care,’ he said coldly. ‘It’s probably some street kid who got offed by one of the gangs. Or a water-hoarder. But I promised the Brotherhood of St Pauls I’d get my best man over there straight away. And that, God help me, is you.’
‘So Miss Patterson tells me. It’s nice to feel wanted.’
‘Isn’t it. So you make the Brothers feel wanted too. There’s always a chance the Brotherhood will feel divinely moved to make a small contribution to the Watchmen’s coffers.’
Revelle buttoned his coat and pulled the belt tight. ‘So you’re not bothered about getting the murderer, then. Just the Brotherhood’s bribes.’
Albright’s face darkened. ‘I want you down at Whispers,’ Albright said quietly. ‘And I want this sorted out. And if that means you have to find out who did it, then that’s fine.’
‘Just so long as it wasn’t a Councillor,’ Revelle said.
Albright’s mouth twitched, and Revelle realised with surprise that his boss was trying not to smile.
‘You’re getting there,’ Albright said. ‘You might not like it, but you’re learning.’
*
Albright offered to take Revelle to Whispers in the Watch Launch. But Revelle knew they didn’t get much of a fuel allowance. He was surprised Albright had used to launch to get to the Tower – the Brotherhood must have more influence than he thought. Or more money.
In any case, Revelle preferred to walk. He wanted time to clear his mind. He wanted to let his eyes adjust to the dim, uneven twilight outside the stark electrical lighting in the Tower. It might be a sign of wealth or power to be gridded, but Revelle didn’t like everything the bright electric lights showed. The world he usually inhabited was one of gloom and murk, of oil lamps and candles.
The Tunnel entrance was a dark, unadvertised opening that led down into the hillside and under the lapping waters. His eyes soon grew used to the near-blackness. There were lamps burning at intervals along the sloping tunnel, spitting and hissing because the fat they burned was so cheap and impure. Further in, the steep metal stairway was still lit with flickering faint electric bulbs. Their light ebbed and flowed like the water above. Once, someone had told Revelle, the stairs had moved, a great mechanism carrying people up and down. Back when trains ran on the rusting, abandoned rails.
The flaking whitewashed walls of the tunnels were sweating. Revelle picked his way round the deeper puddles and did his best not to bump into anyone. The stairs down from the White Tower were deserted, but as soon as he was in one of the main walkways, Revelle was fighting for space. He pushed past urchins and dockers and fishermen and avoided the drunks. He ignored costermongers who tried to sell him everything from clothes to hot bread, eels, and fish.
A Revenue man, in his distinctive dark uniform, passed Revelle heading the other way. The crowd parted for him, through fear rather than respect. Revelle watched the man continue on his way and wondered if maybe here was another career for him. He was aware that by contrast he cut a less impressive figure in his water-stained coat, with his close-cut fair hair covered with a shapeless felt hat. No one stepped aside for him.
It was raining in the tunnel when he reached Spawls. Just before the steps leading up to the nearest exit to Whispers, water was pouring through the broken brickwork of the curved roof. People ran through, jackets and coats pulled up over their heads.
‘They’ve sent for a work party,’ someone was saying. ‘Don’t think it’ll collapse. Water’s shallow up above here anyway.’
‘Don’t make no difference,’ a woman said. ‘Remember what happened at The Bankment.’ She hurried on her way.
Revelle turned up his collar and ran under the cascading water. He wouldn’t be sorry to get out of the tunnel. The woman was right – it didn’t matter how deep the water was above them, not when it started to break through and flood the tunnels.
There was a floating wooden platform with a mooring post at the top of the stairs. A construction barge was just arriving, men with shovels and buckets ready to leap on to the decking and head down to deal with the leaking roof. There was no sign of any other boats. Everyone else was hurrying in the opposite direction, along the wooden dryway.
‘Never a ferry when you need one,’ Revelle muttered.
He let the workmen hurry past and down the steps, then he called to the pilot of the barge.
‘What d’you want?’ the Pilot demanded. He was tying the barge securely to the mooring post, and laughed when Revelle told him. ‘And you’ll pay me for that, will you?’
‘It’ll only take you a minute. You’re not going anywhere else.’
‘Not going over to Whispers, neither.’
‘I’m asking politely.’ Revelle took out his Watch Officer’s badge and held it in the light for the man to see.
The Pilot glanced at it. Then he sighed. ‘Oh terrific.’
*
One of the Brothers was waiting for Revelle at the North Window of the Cathedral, and led him up to the gallery.
There were hundreds of candles arranged along the railing and the stone bench close to the figure lying motionless in a pool of congealed blood.
A man was bending carefully over the body. He straightened up as Revelle approached. ‘You took your time,’ he said.
Revelle recognised him at once. Doctor Barker was a local physician and he’d worked with Revelle before. He was older than Revelle – somewhere in his fifties, Revelle guessed – with a bushy white beard that contrasted with his dark grey hair.
‘I was at the White Tower,’ Revelle said. ‘Don’t ask,’ he added as Barker raised his eyebrows. ‘So what’s the story here?’
Barker turned back to the body. ‘Well, once upon a time, this gentleman died. From a knife blow to the heart – one of several knife wounds, I should point out.’
‘Once upon a time being when?’
‘About two hours ago, jud
ging by the blood. Body temperature won’t tell us as much as it might since it’s rather humid here anyway.’ Barker wiped his forehead with the handkerchief as if to demonstrate. ‘So far as I can tell, no one’s disturbed the body. He hasn’t been moved.’
‘There are footprints in the blood,’ Revelle pointed out.
‘The Brothers that found him.’
‘Possibly,’ Revelle conceded. ‘Probably.’
‘He was a Revenue man as you can see.’ Barker handed Revelle a small leather wallet. ‘Had his badge on him.’
Revelle glanced at it, then said to Barker: ‘Get him out of here and find out what you can. Size and shape of the blade, height of the attacker, more accurate time of death if possible.’
‘Will I get paid this time?’ Barker asked.
‘Probably not,’ Revelle admitted. ‘To be honest.’
‘An honest Watchman,’ Barker said. ‘You won’t last long.’ Neither of them laughed. It was too close to the truth to be funny.
*
The night was getting cold, and the chill was eating into Jake. He had been crouched in the damp and the dark for hours.
The heavy cloaks helped – kept out the cold, and kept them hidden. It was clear as soon as they got out of the Cathedral that they couldn’t get back to Geoff’s boat without being seen. Assuming that no one had found the boat, tied up out of sight round the other side of the dome.
Now Jake was hiding with Sarah and Geoff in the shadow of one of the smaller windows close to the huge North Window. When the physician arrived, Jake thought they’d soon be able to move. He was wrong. His hopes rose again when the Watchman arrived in his long coat and battered hat. But several Brothers still stood by the North Window blocking the way back to Geoff’s boat.
‘We’ll have to make a run for it soon, or I won’t be able to move,’ Sarah whispered. ‘My dad will be getting worried if I’m late home.’
‘At least you’ve got a home,’ Jake thought, but he didn’t say it.
‘They’ll have to move soon,’ Geoff said. ‘Once they’re gone we can leg it.’
They pulled back further into the shadows as figures emerged from the North Window. They paused on the short walkway between the window and the jetty where the Brothers’ boats were moored. The two Brothers standing at the end of the jetty were dark silhouettes against the grey of the water.
‘It’s the Watchman,’ Jake said quietly.
‘And the physician. It’s Doctor Barker,’ Sarah said. She knew so many people from working in her father’s shop.
‘Why do you suppose he came here?’ Doctor Barker was asking. The breeze carried his voice clearly to where Jake and his friends were hiding. ‘To pray?’
The Watchman gave a short laugh. ‘Didn’t do him much good if so. More likely he was meeting someone. Or hiding from them maybe.’
‘I’ve radioed for a barge to have the body moved to the mortuary,’ the Doctor said. ‘Shouldn’t be long.’
‘The Brothers have a radio? What’s it run on – candles?’
‘You wind it up.’
‘Maybe I should call the Revenue and tell them their man is dead. They’ll know who he is from the badge number.’
‘His clothes smelled of fish,’ Barker said. ‘So I assume he worked at the docks.’
‘Probably checking the boats coming in at the end of the day.’ The Watchman nodded. ‘I’ll get his name in the morning, and then check out his beat. Find out when he finished and where he was going.’
‘The Brothers said they saw someone here.’
‘They said they heard someone,’ the Watchman corrected him. ‘Several people. Fast and light on their feet, so probably urchins or waterlarks.’
‘Murderers?’
The Watchman shook his head. ‘I doubt it. But they may have seen something.’ He turned, and seemed to be looking right at Jake as he said: ‘I wonder where they are now.’
Chapter 4
The Watchman and the physician didn’t talk for long. One of the Brothers took the Watchman away in a boat, the other went inside with the doctor. That was their chance. Jake, Sarah and Geoff ran across the drywalk and clambered round the dome until they reached Geoff’s boat.
After twenty minutes hard rowing by the two boys, Geoff tied the boat to a mooring post at the end of Shaft Street. Jake waited in the boat while Geoff walked Sarah home. Then Geoff took Jake back to the docks.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Jake said. ‘You got any plans?’
‘Yeah,’ Geoff said, his eyes glinting with excitement. ‘I’m going down to the docks. Keep a look out for that officer of the Watch.’
‘Why?’
Geoff shrugged. ‘See what he finds out. Don’t you want to know? Sarah said it was a good idea.’
‘I suppose,’ Jake admitted.
A few minutes later, Jake was sitting on the edge of a makeshift bed in an upper floor of a derelict warehouse. Through the open loading bay he could see the flickering lights that illuminated the dome of Whispers. In his hand he cradled the cavalryman. Now he’d washed it clean of mud and dirt, it looked so lifelike. It was stained and discoloured and he wondered if it had ever been painted, or if it had been plain brilliant white. It might just be heavy plastic, but he hoped it was ivory or stone. He rubbed at it with a grubby corner of his shirt.
Pleased with his work, Jake set the figure down on an upturned packing case beside his bed. The horse was caught in mid-step, a front leg raised. The soldier was holding a long spear.
Jake yawned, and pulled a threadbare blanket over himself. ‘Goodnight,’ he said quietly to the cavalryman. He laughed. ‘Or maybe it’s good knight.’ With the light from the moon and the docks behind it, the figure looked almost alive. The horse was rearing up, both its front legs in mid air, ready to crash down as it started to charge.
Jake’s eyes closed. But only for a moment, then they snapped open again. Both legs raised? That couldn’t be right. Jake sat up, staring at the horse and its rider close beside him.
And as he watched, the horse’s front hooves came down and it took a step forward. The lance thrust forwards, and the soldier turned its head, just slightly, to look right at Jake.
*
Eventually, Jake had drifted into an uneasy sleep. He woke to find the sun was already up. The smell of fish from the docks told him the boats had been out and back already. The chimes of Baby Ben soon announced it was eight o’clock – time to meet Geoff.
The warehouse floor was rotting. Some of it had given way already, leaving jag-toothed holes. Jake could see down to the water lapping round below. He had to be careful where he put his feet, but he’d come to know which boards were the most secure and solid.
Before he left the warehouse, he examined the cavalryman and his horse again. He was sure the figures had moved. But he could see no evidence of an internal mechanism, so sign of working joints. He folded the figure inside a bit of rag to keep it safe and put it in his jacket pocket. Then he picked up his rucksack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out to the docks.
He found Geoff bartering a piece of coal for a bread roll. Jake had some scraps of metal he persuaded the stallkeeper to take for another roll, and they sat together leaning against a mooring post at the end of the main jetty.
‘Reckon we’ll see this Watchman, then?’ Jake asked.
‘Reckon we might.’
‘Think it’s worth it? I mean, what are we going to find out?’
Geoff finished his bread, and reached into his pocket with his free hand. He took out the toy soldier. ‘Might find out about this. I’ll tell you something,’ he said. ‘Something creepy. I reckon it’s moved since I put it away.’ he laughed and pushed the soldier back into his pocket. ‘Tell me it’s my imagination.’
‘I wish I could,’ Jake said.
But Geoff wasn’t listening. He was pushing himself upright and brushing the crumbs off his shirt. ‘Here comes Sarah.’
*
Some of the old streets were still
above the water. When the landscape had moved, it pushed up some areas of the City while others dropped away. You could see the buildings that had straddled the fault lines. They were fractured, split in half – one side sinking the other rising. Most had collapsed as a result, but some still stood, mismatched often by several storeys. The roof of one side might cut across to the lower floor of the other…
If he was taking the roofwalks and then a drywalk, there was only one way the Officer could come from the Watch Tower over near Baby Ben. Jake, Geoff and Sarah found a good place to wait, sheltered between several large crates that had just been unloaded.
The first boats had returned from the morning’s fishing and were unloading at the floating quays, together with cargo ships bringing in supplies for the markets. Boatmen handed boxes up to warehouse windows, or dumped them on the decking.
They didn’t have to wait long. ‘There he is,’ Sarah said.
She pointed to where the Watch man was making his way slowly along the quay. He was a distinctive figure in his long coat and battered wide-brimmed hat. He was holding what looked like a Revenue Officer’s log book, checking the names of boats as he passed.
‘Let’s follow him,’ Geoff said.
‘Are you sure?’ Jake protested. ‘What if he sees us.’
‘Come on,’ Sarah urged, leading the way.
They stayed in the shadows, close to the tall warehouses. They were close enough to catch something of the conversation between the Officer and a lad unloading carrots and potatoes from The Jolly Mermaid. Close enough to hear him introduce himself as ‘Officer Revelle of the Watch.’
The lad was wary, talking quietly and nervously. Eventually he pointed along the quay, and Revelle nodded and moved on.
The Endeavour was a much bigger boat than the Jolly Mermaid. Its captain was a tall, lean black man with an easy manner that belied the obvious precision and efficiency with which he ran his boat. He took Revelle’s badge from him and examined it closely. They exchanged some words, and then the captain gestured for Revelle to come aboard, and led him below deck.
‘Right, come on,’ Sarah hissed.
‘Where to?’ Jake asked.
The Skeleton Clock Page 4
