Day of Vengeance

by Jeanne M. Dams

  All eyes turned to Mr Cho, who came as near to a blush as his complexion would allow. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

  ‘He won’t tell you, so I will,’ said Mrs Smith. ‘He wrote it, especially for us. And it’s to be sung at King’s this summer!’

  ‘King’s College? That is an honour! Congratulations, Mr Cho.’ Alan stood and held out his hand to the musician, who took it with a slight bow and retired to the farthest corner, as if to efface himself.

  ‘We think our choir is at least as fine as theirs,’ said Mr Stewart, with robustly rolled Rs. ‘Their voices fill our church, though it’s a wee bit bigger than yon college chapel.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dean Smith, ‘we’re very proud of our choir. And it’s all Mr Cho’s work. The choir was in a sorry state when he came here ten years ago. The choir school had been allowed to fall into disuse, but he got it back up and running, and it wasn’t long before the school’s reputation began to be known.’

  ‘Hmph,’ said Mrs Stewart. That appeared to be a favourite word, if one could call a grunt a word. ‘It had a reputation before, and not the good sort. That’s what killed it – that and a poor excuse for a headmaster. It was Dean Smith got it up and running again, and don’t let him tell you anything different! His appeals for scholarship funds, the grants he brought in for putting the building to rights and hiring staff, his scouring the country for the best musician to head the school – that’s what put it on its feet again!’ She favoured the room with a glare that might have scorched the curtains.

  ‘Now, now, Mrs Stewart, you exaggerate.’ The dean looked embarrassed. The rest of us couldn’t think of anything to say, but Mr Cho rose out of his corner chair and bowed to us all.

  ‘It is true what the lady says,’ he said in his precise English. ‘I could not have come here without Mr Dean’s help. He is a very great lover of church music and a very good man. I am deeply indebted to him.’

  He bowed again and sat down, leaving even Mrs Stewart speechless.

  TWELVE

  We had to leave early in the morning, because Rotherford was no longer served by a frequent rail service. When British Rail was privatized, back the 1990s, a lot of small stations were closed or suffered greatly reduced schedules. Rotherford Station probably remained open only because of the cathedral, but, as it was well out of easy London commuting range, trains were infrequent. If we’d missed the earliest one, it would have meant waiting another two hours, and we were all eager to get back home. We made it by the skin of our teeth, and then had to do the journey across London, with luggage and dog, at the height of the rush hour (which I have always thought is ludicrously misnamed).

  ‘I’m absolutely in Dean Smith’s corner now,’ I said while we were stopped in a traffic tangle near Hyde Park Corner. ‘He’s the perfect man for the job. So I’m glad Mr Robinson doesn’t want it, and I hope to heaven Walter manages to get the goods on Lovelace. That would put him out of the running for sure.’

  ‘I wish Walter would get in touch. I’d like to stop and see him, but it’s impossible with the dog and all.’

  Watson looked up at that and whined slightly. ‘Dog’ is one of the words he knows, and he hadn’t quite liked Alan’s tone of voice when he uttered it. Alan patted him absently, but his mind was in the coffers of St Barnabas’ church.

  The train to Sherebury was delayed again, so it was early afternoon when we arrived, finally, at Sherebury Station. To our surprise, Jane was waiting for us. We had told her when we expected to be back, but hadn’t asked her to meet us.

  ‘We have our car here, Jane,’ said Alan. ‘I’m sorry you went to the trouble … No, it’s something else, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not the cats?’ I said anxiously.

  ‘Cats are fine. It’s Walter.’

  ‘What about Walter?’ asked Alan sharply.

  ‘Missing.’

  We left our car at the station so Jane could drive us home and talk on the way. ‘Sue called,’ she began. ‘Wanted to know if Walter was here. Said no, hadn’t seen or heard from him. No phone call, no email. Left in the morning to go to the BM. Still working there, unpaid, till his job comes through. Left there at noon to see Sue. Didn’t show up. Didn’t phone.’

  I tried to ignore the little pulse of unease that was beginning to beat insistently in one temple. ‘But, Jane, it’s only a few hours. You can hardly call him missing until he doesn’t come home at night. And even then … well, I suppose he’s too reliable to assume he’d go on a bender or something.’

  ‘Not an ordinary day,’ said Jane gruffly. She sounded as though she was trying hard not to cry. ‘Was to meet Sue for lunch and then go to pick out wedding rings.’

  I drew in my breath and turned to my husband. ‘Oh, Alan—’

  ‘Yes. That puts an entirely different complexion on it. I’d better phone Sue.’

  His jaw was set. He stared straight ahead. I could read his thoughts as clearly as though they were imprinted on his brow. If only I hadn’t set him that task …

  I was thinking the same thing, but I kept my mouth shut.

  He called the moment we got home, using the landline so I could listen in.

  ‘Sue? Alan Nesbitt here. Jane has just told us about Walter.’

  Sue’s voice was very wobbly. ‘I know it sounds foolish, but do you think something might have happened to him?’

  ‘I think it’s possible. You’ve heard nothing from him?’

  ‘Not a word. Oh, Mr Nesbitt, I’m so worried!’

  ‘Yes. I’d like to come and talk to you, if it’s convenient. Or would you rather come here?’

  ‘I … I hate to make you come all the way to London, but I don’t want to leave here, in case he comes home. Would it really be a terrible imposition for you to come here?’

  ‘No imposition at all. I can’t say when we might be there. The train schedule’s quite unreliable just now. We’ll drive in until we hit frightful traffic, and then take the train or the Tube or whatever offers. I’ll ring you before we board the Underground and let you know when we might be at Russell Square. If you could meet us there?’

  Jane had recovered her equanimity, possibly because she had something to do. Always practical, she had packed us some lunches to eat on the way – sandwiches, chocolate biscuits, and apples. ‘Been stored since autumn, but still edible,’ she said. ‘Can eat everything while driving.’

  Jane took charge of Watson, who was bewildered at being abandoned when he had only just got home. I kissed her as I got in the car. ‘We’ll tell you the moment we know anything.’

  Mid-afternoon is a better time than almost any other to drive into London. We penetrated quite far into the suburbs before Alan decided we’d do better off the road. So we spotted an Underground station, parked the car, and got to Russell Square in good time.

  Sue was waiting for us, worried and frightened, but in command of herself. I gave her a hug, and Alan asked, ‘Any word?’ She bit her lip and shook her head.

  ‘Well, then, the first thing is to get you some tea. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten anything lately?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘No buts. The Russell Hotel is just around the corner, and you can talk on the way. I’m sure they’ll do us a good tea. Trust me, child. You can’t think properly with low blood sugar.’

  ‘I can’t think properly at all! This was to be a special day for us, and he’s simply disappeared!’ She was hard put not to burst into tears. ‘He’s never thoughtless. He would have phoned.’

  We went into the venerable hotel, found a table, and ordered quickly. ‘Sue,’ said Alan quietly, ‘I can’t report this to the police and expect them to take it seriously until at least twenty-four hours have passed. But I take it seriously, knowing Walter, and I want to do anything I can to help you. I want you to tell me exactly what you and he said and did from the time you awoke this morning.’

  She folded her hands in her lap – to keep them from shaking, I suspected. The effect, with her short blond curls, w
as of a child determined to behave well in front of its elders. ‘We were both pretty excited, because just yesterday we set a date for the wedding, and we were going to pick out rings today. They couldn’t be anything very expensive, but we have a bit of money put by. We talked about that at breakfast. We decided to go to Hatton Garden and just browse, and then if we couldn’t find anything we could afford there, we’d ask someone to recommend a reputable dealer that was less expensive. We’ve never bought any jewellery before, not what you’d call jewellery, so we don’t actually know how!’

  Her voice quavered a little at that, and she clasped her hands more tightly.

  Alan said, in his most down-to-earth, practical voice, ‘So, you discussed Hatton Garden over breakfast. Then what? You must have decided when and where to meet.’

  ‘Yes. I was going to the V and A this morning to fill out some paperwork. It looks as though I’ve landed that job at the Museum of Childhood. I was really excited about that.’ Her voice held no excitement now. ‘So we went online and found a little caff in Smithfield Market that looked pleasant. I could get there easily from the Bethnal Green station, and Walter said it would be handy for him, too.’

  Our tea arrived just then. I poured out, giving Sue quite a lot of sugar. I doubted she’d notice the taste, and it would do her good.

  ‘So he was coming from the British Museum?’ I prompted, when she’d taken a valiant sip of tea.

  ‘Oh, no. Didn’t I tell you? He said we’d have to make lunch a little late, because he was going to be at the museum till around noon, and then he was going to St Barnabas’ for a few minutes.’

  At that, all my radar went on red alert. St Barnabas’. His last known destination. St Barnabas’, where he was trying to uncover evidence of malfeasance on the part of an extremely intelligent, extremely ambitious, and, I suspected, extremely ruthless man.

  ‘And when were you to meet?’ Alan sounded calm, but he had that ability, even in moments of great tension.

  ‘Around one, he said. Of course, he couldn’t time it to the minute, because London Transport can be infuriatingly slow.’ She swallowed, and had to swallow again before she could go on. ‘I waited until two. Then I tried to phone him, and he didn’t answer. I’ve left messages, voice and text. I phoned the museum. They said he left around twelve; no one was sure just when.’

  ‘Did you ring the church?’

  ‘Yes. The secretary said no one had seen him. She wouldn’t let me talk to Mr Lovelace.’

  ‘So sometime between, let’s say, quarter to twelve to quarter past and one o’clock, he seems to have vanished.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sue’s mobile rang. She dived for it. The hope in her face died when she saw the display. ‘Robocall,’ she said. The first tear slid down her cheek. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that …’

  ‘He’s going to be fine,’ I said, knowing it might be a big fat lie. ‘We’ll find him. What could happen to a grown man in the middle of London, in the middle of the day?’

  I thought as I spoke of the iffy neighbourhood of the church, of the suspicions we had about Lovelace, of the murder of a dean. I was afraid my thoughts would show on my face, and tried strenuously to stop thinking at all.

  But Sue was watching Alan’s face, not mine. ‘There’s nothing you can do, is there?’

  ‘There is one thing,’ he said, his voice now grim. ‘It would be counterproductive for me to go to the church and inquire. The people there know me, and I’m not terribly popular with some of them. Especially the secretary. She wouldn’t tell me anything, even if she were inclined to be helpful about Walter. And, of course, we have reason to suspect that she might not be so inclined. If there is some hanky-panky going on with the books, I’d lay fifty pounds she knows about it.

  ‘So I can’t go myself. And I no longer have minions at my command. The Metropolitan Police have any number of men who could take on a search, but I can’t go to the Met, not just yet, anyway. But there is one person I can send – a very capable former policeman who owes me a favour.’

  ‘Jonathan!’ I brightened up instantly. ‘Why didn’t I think of him right away? He’s the very person!’

  ‘If he’s available,’ cautioned Alan. ‘He’s doing consulting work now, you know. He could be anywhere from China to Peru, but if he’s in London, or can get here quickly, I know he’ll help.’

  Alan and I had saved Jonathan Quinn from a difficult and dangerous situation a while back, and I knew he’d do anything for us. ‘He’s a terrific person,’ I said now to Sue. ‘Alan was one of his mentors, and he rose to great heights in the Met until an accident left him unable to pursue active police work. But there’s nothing wrong with his head, or his heart, either. Now, look, Sue. I know you’re scared silly – I would be, too – but try to think. Did you help Walter at all with what he was doing at the church, poking into the books and so on?’

  ‘Not really. We did do one session of counselling with Lovelace, but I had a hard time keeping a straight face. He’s so phony! All grave concern on the one hand, full of platitudes about what makes a happy marriage and that, and all the while he couldn’t keep his eyes off my legs. I told Walter I’d for sure wear slacks next time! If there was a next time. But, fortunately, he said he would be too busy for a while to meet. So Walter said he’d just go to the church when he could and put in some secretarial work, and, of course, he intended to try to sneak a peek at the books while he was at it. He thought it would look suspicious if I came, too.’

  ‘And was he able to find out anything?’

  ‘Not yet. That secretary – her name is Steele—’

  ‘Appropriate,’ I said. ‘She’s hard and chilly.’

  ‘She’s all of that. Anyway, Walter said she was looking over his shoulder every minute, nearly. He didn’t dare touch anything he wasn’t supposed to, for fear she’d walk into the room.’

  ‘So he didn’t tell you anything that might help us.’

  ‘I’ve thought and thought about that. Truly! Yes, I’m scared, but trying to remember is better than imagining … Anyway, he hadn’t learned anything. But he had been able to see where the important ledgers and other records were kept. They were in a locked cabinet, and Mrs Steele keeps the key. But she doesn’t take her keys when she just leaves the office to go to the loo or something. So one day Walter pinched them and unlocked the cabinet. It’s just one of those cheap locks, where a metal slat goes into slots at the top and bottom of the door when the key turns. You know?’

  We nodded. My first husband had owned such a cabinet. He always said the lock was useless, except to keep the honest people honest.

  ‘Walter’s very strong, you know, and those slat things are pretty thin. He managed to bend the bottom part up, so it didn’t go into the slot at all, and he got the key back in Mrs Steele’s desk before she came back. He thought, if he got there on her lunch hour, he could manage to work the slat out of place in the top, too, and get the cabinet open. Then he could photocopy some of the ledger pages, and a few other documents. He didn’t say what, and I probably wouldn’t have understood anyway – finance isn’t my thing. And I think that was what he was going to try to do today.’

  ‘Isn’t the office kept locked?’

  ‘Yes, but Walter’s made friends with the sexton, who doesn’t like Mrs Steele much. He was sure Jed would let him into the office if he said he had some work to finish, or something.’

  ‘Then the first person Jonathan needs to talk to is Jed,’ said Alan. He leaned over and took her hand. ‘Sue, I’m not going to tell you not to worry. This could be nothing. Walter could be following up some sort of lead, and not able for one reason or another to phone you. The problem could be as simple as a mobile that he left behind, or forgot to charge. But it also could be something serious. I’m going to try to reach Jonathan Quinn—’

  ‘Jonathan Quinn! Is that who you’re talking about! Why, I know who he is! He’s that big hero who saved the little girl, and got the George Cross, and everything!’

&n
bsp; And everything sort of summed it up, I thought with a private smile. We’d been successful in keeping the rest of the mess out of the media, so Jonathan’s image was left untarnished. ‘That’s the one,’ I said. ‘And if Alan can find him, I imagine he’ll want to come here and go over the same ground we’ve just covered. Not easy for you, I do realize.’

  ‘I’ll do anything, if it’ll help find Walter.’

  I persuaded her to nibble a sandwich, while Alan tried to call Jonathan. He tried twice, with no luck. He left a voicemail. I talked Sue into a piece of cake, and we prepared to leave. ‘I’ll be in touch, Sue. By this evening, I hope. Chin up.’ Alan shook her hand gravely, I gave her a hug, and we made our tortuous way back to our car and thence home.

  THIRTEEN

  Alan tried to phone Jonathan from the train, but couldn’t get a signal. As soon as we got home he tried again, this time with success. Jonathan had gone to a concert, with his phone turned off, and had just turned it on again. Of course he would come to help Sue. Address and phone number, please?

  We went over to see Jane to give her the non-news. She looked dreadful, her full age and more. Her face was nearly as grey as her hair, and the lines in it sagged even more than usual. ‘Doing what you can,’ she said gruffly. And when Alan tried to apologize for putting Walter in harm’s way, she shut him up. ‘Rubbish. Old enough to make up his own mind. Not your fault.’

  We went home, seeing we could do Jane no good, and sat up late, mulling over the situation, trying to think of any way we could help find Walter. We jumped every time the phone rang, hoping it would be good news. It was never anything important.

  When we finally went to bed, it was to a troubled sleep. I had one of my recurring nightmares, in which I was in a building and unable to find a way out. I kept wandering from one area to the next, and doors that seemed to lead to the outside would lead instead only into another corridor, or an enclosed courtyard. Sometimes, with the supreme illogic that governs dreams, I was driving a car through the building. Sometimes the building would disappear, and I was trying to drive out of a canyon, or away from a beach where the tide was rising. In one scenario, I was looking for something. It was terribly important that I find it, or something horrible would happen. I tried to run to escape the horrible fate, but my legs felt weighted down. I tried to scream for help … and Alan shook me awake.