Rogue Officer

by Kilworth, Garry Douglas

  The major was undoubtedly referring to the war over trading rights in the Spice Islands, an altercation that took place in the 1600s, centuries earlier.

  Jack sighed. ‘It seems I have little choice, sir. I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ cried the major jovially. ‘Didn’t expect any less, old chap. Now, will you have that noggin . . . ?’

  Jack was given no time to see Rupert Jarrard before he was mounted yet again on Cadiz and riding for Narwar. He took none of his men with him this time. They were all still either sick or exhausted after their ordeal in the jungle. Wynter, the only man to avoid that long trek, was in no fit state after his flogging. Jack was having twinges of conscience about the punishment meted out to the private. There was growing doubt in his mind about the guilt of Wynter regarding the Captain Swing death threat. Still, he could not imagine who else would have written such a note and signed it with such a symbolic signature. In any case it would have been more than wearisome to drag Wynter with him; the man would be complaining every yard of the way.

  As an arresting officer, Jack had reluctantly decided to wear his lieutenant’s uniform. It was still a little dangerous out in open country, past villages where there was no army presence, for a British officer to ride alone. But order was re-establishing itself throughout India and with that order came fear of reprisals. Before the mutiny a white man could travel anywhere in relative safety due to the firm action which followed any attack. That kind of law enforcement was swiftly returning and the rural communities were quick to adapt to the norm.

  After a long hard ride during which Cadiz did not once falter or complain in any way, Jack arrived at Narwar. He found a place to stable his horse and there asked directions to the house of Chandra. The osier regarded this Hindi-speaking British soldier with some suspicion and at first showed reluctance to give Jack the information he needed. However, two silver coins later and Jack knew where to find the building.

  Evening was coming on as Jack threaded his way along a narrow alleyway looking for a house with two lamps, one either side of a door studded with brass nails and bearing a knocker in the shape of a tiger’s head. Eventually he found the place he was looking for. He hammered on the door with the iron knocker and waited expectantly. Soon a little shutter opened in the middle of the door and someone peered out. Jack moved quickly up to the little window, so that only his face was visible and his uniform could not be seen. He put on an anxious expression and kept nervously looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Who is it?’ came a female voice speaking Hindi. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘A friend of the Dutchman, Hilversum,’ Jack replied in the same tongue. ‘Chandra knows I am here. Let me in, quickly – it is very urgent. Hurry, woman! A life depends upon it. Quick! Quick!’

  He had two pistols in his waistband and he now surreptitiously armed himself with one of these.

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then he heard bolts being withdrawn. He turned the handle, pushed the door and barged in, past a startled young woman carrying a lighted candle. She screamed something unintelligible, probably warning those in the back of the house. Jack swept on, past empty bedchambers that fronted a small courtyard. There was a light in a room at the end of a short corridor. He ran down and threw open the door, only to find he was in a kitchen with a startled cook. Jack withdrew and turned left, towards another lighted room. The entrance to this one only had a beaded curtain, on which he nearly strangled himself as he flung himself through the doorway.

  The two occupants of the room were already on their feet. One of them, the European man, was armed with a pistol. Jack pointed his weapon at Hilversum, for it was he, and ordered him to disarm himself. Hilversum blinked and then his face clouded over with annoyance.

  ‘Lieutenant Crossman! How very uncivil, not to say impolite of you to threaten me with one of my own weapons.’

  Jack glanced down and saw that he was indeed wielding the single-shot pistol which Hilversum had given to him as a gift.

  ‘I apologize for that,’ said Jack, ‘but you are under arrest. I have been ordered to take you to Gwalior,’

  ‘And there is a crime?’

  ‘Trading in arms without a licence.’

  Hilversum laughed out loud. ‘Sir, do you honestly believe they would send a lieutenant to arrest me for that? Trading in pop-guns? I’m sorry, it doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ agreed Jack, ‘but I’ve still got to take you in – orders, you see. If there’s a trial, I’ll speak up for you.’

  ‘You will? I understand you’re not in a great position of authority yourself at the moment. Perhaps I should speak for you.’

  Jack stared at the Dutchman. ‘What do you know of my private affairs?’

  ‘Major Lovelace said he had heard you were in some bother or other.’

  Jack was greatly surprised. ‘You know Major Lovelace?’

  Hilversum was now smiling, as was the other occupant of the room, a slightly built Indian gentleman with dark-ringed eyes who twiddled a frangipani blossom between the fingers of one hand. The Indian was neatly dressed and had slicked his hair down with perfumed grease, the fragrance of which filled the whole room. This unlikely pair of criminals seemed to be enjoying some huge secret joke. Their attitude began to rankle with Jack, who believed he was on a serious business.

  The Dutchman explained, ‘We both do. We work for him. I tell you this, because I know you are also one of his spies. Major Lovelace recruited me and the talukdar here just a few weeks ago. We are part of a cell of three. We know none of the other spies who work for Major Lovelace – he tells us this is best for us and them, in case we are ever discovered and questioned by an enemy.’

  ‘And who is the third person?’

  Chandra, still smiling, spoke now and revealed the joke. ‘You are, sir. This is how we know you. You are the person to whom we must report if we cannot reach Major Lovelace.’

  Jack’s mind was spinning. ‘I’ve not been told of this.’

  ‘Have you seen the major lately? He’s been very busy setting up his teams of spies.’

  ‘That’s not your business,’ replied Jack, but he was losing ground rapidly. If none of this was known to him it did make sense. And Nathan Lovelace was such a shadowy figure in India it was unlikely these two characters would know of him and his work unless Nathan had indeed recruited them. Jack now dimly recalled Colonel Hawke telling him that Major Lovelace had been empowered to form an intelligence network, one greater than had ever existed before. At the time Jack had thought the colonel meant men like himself: British soldiers. Obviously not.

  Hilversum put his own weapon down on a table.

  ‘Well, are you going to take me to jail?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know what to do now.’

  ‘First, I would be grateful if you would lower that duelling pistol I gave you as a parting present – having adjusted the trigger mechanism myself I know it takes very little pressure to fire the weapon.’

  Jack lowered the Wurfflain and then noticed that Chandra was staring at his left wrist.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘no hand.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir – I don’t mean to stare at your affliction. It must be difficult to load your pistol quickly.’

  ‘You get used to it, tucking the thing under one arm and using the good hand to load. If you’re wondering whether I would have managed to shoot the both of you, had it been necessary, I have to tell you I have another pistol in my belt. It is merely a matter of dropping this one after discharge and whipping out the other.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Chandra, nodding, ‘of course. Tea?’

  Without waiting for a reply Chandra went over to a kettle which was hissing on a stove. Jack watched him, still a little wary. It would be foolish to drop his guard completely, though he was fairly satisfied this pair were speaking the truth.

  Once they were sat around the table, drinking and eating, Hilversum asked him, ‘Who was it ordered my arrest?
’

  ‘Well, it was a Major O’Hay who gave me my orders, but they came to him from General Martlesham.’

  Hilversum smiled broadly again.

  Jack said, ‘You seem to find a great deal of humour in all this.’

  ‘Humour? Not so much. Irony, yes. I smile because of the irony.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘General Martlesham is the one who ordered Captain Deighnton to kill you in a duel.’

  Jack was so taken aback he almost fell off his chair.

  ‘Ordered – to – kill – me?’ he repeated, haltingly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why would this Martlesham want me dead?’ Jack tried to recall if he had ever met the general and given him offence, but could find nothing in his memory to advance that idea. ‘I don’t even know the man.’

  ‘I don’t know the details, but Major Lovelace does. When I spoke about your trouble with the cavalry captain – you do remember telling me about it when we were last together? – it’s why I gave you the Wurfflein – when I spoke about this matter, Major Lovelace said under his breath, “Ah, yes, that’s Martlesham’s doing. He’s the man who put Deighnton up to that business.”’

  ‘And why does this general want you arrested?’

  ‘He doesn’t just want me arrested, he wants me out of India, or just out of the way. Martlesham has business interests, vast estates, which actually conflict with his duties in the Indian Army. He is very jealous of those interests, even somewhat paranoid. I believe he will do anything to further his lust for wealth and power. If those interests are in any way threatened, he turns to unorthodox methods to remove the threat. Even a perceived threat is dealt with ruthlessly.’

  ‘I would call Sir Matthew Martlesham a madman,’ interrupted Chandra, ‘but then I am a plain-speaking person.’

  ‘Martlesham, Matthew Martlesham,’ murmured Jack, the name nagging at recent memory. ‘Where have I heard. . . of course, the Chinese runner, Reginald Lee, on the boat coming down the river. Sir Matthew Martlesham is an opium poppy grower.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘But,’ said Jack, ‘so far as I’m aware it’s not illegal to grow opium.’

  ‘There is a wider picture, Lieutenant. You are aware that China has been a powder keg of late? War with western powers only ceased in May. The Imperial rulers are about to sign the Treaty of Tientsin with several countries including America and Britain. The treaty will bring an end to hostilities and legalize the Chinese opium trade again. It is all very delicate and sensitive. It is in China that fortunes are to be made with opium. Martlesham is fearful of anything that might give rise to second thoughts. He is terrified this faction of Lord Holbrook will bring about a government change of mind regarding the opium trade.’

  ‘How does this affect me?’

  ‘Martlesham is convinced that there are spies out here gathering information which might be used against him by Lord Holbrook. You sir, are a spy . . .’

  ‘And,’ interrupted Jack, the light dawning on him at last, ‘my brother James is one of Holbrook’s supporters. Martlesham believes I’m an agent for my brother.’

  Hilversum said, ‘I was not aware of your brother’s involvement, but yes, that causes it all to fall into place.’

  ‘And of course,’ Jack mused in horror, ‘young Faulks – the nephew of Lord Holbrook.’ Jack’s eyes opened wide and he found himself scratching his stump, a thing he did when he was extremely agitated. ‘God, Hilversum, what it amounts to is that Deighnton is a paid assassin! He forces his victims into a position where they call him out – or they insult him so he can call them out – then disposes of them for Martlesham. It’s monstrous.’

  ‘Martlesham is a determined man who will brook no interference with his plans. Major Lovelace believes the killing of Ensign Faulks was a warning to Lord Holbrook that, if he did not cease his activities with regard to the opium trade, his immediate family would be under threat. I tell you, Martlesham is utterly ruthless. He will one day rule India – if he’s not stopped.’

  A lot of vague and misty things in Jack’s head now became clear. No matter what Jack said to Deighnton, the captain was not going to let him off the hook. Deighnton was a killer. Yes, he risked his life each time he stood up against a victim, but Deighnton was probably one of those unusual men who did not fear death. Jack had met them before: they were one in ten thousand. They were of course as mortal as any man of flesh and blood, but they had no care for their own lives.

  Naturally, since such men did not fear death, it became an inconsequential thing to bring death to others. If they did not fear it, why should the next man? Deighnton was doing nothing but hastening an inevitable event, the end of a man’s life. Jack knew such men were estranged from feelings of remorse or pity, or any deep emotion. They probably enjoyed the quick thrill of seeing a man fall with a bullet in his brain, but then it became nothing, a hollowness.

  ‘But what do I do now?’ said Jack. ‘I can’t take you back, Hilversum. Who knows what will happen to you?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But I shall be castigated for it, I’m sure.’

  Hilversum shrugged. ‘Tell them you could not find me.’

  ‘That will have to do,’ said Jack, rising.

  Chandra suggested, ‘You will stay here for the night?’

  Jack stared out of the window at the darkness.

  ‘Yes, thank you, I will.’

  Eleven

  Captain Deighnton, still technically an army officer but one who knew he had to sell his commission, came away from his meeting with General Sir Matthew Martlesham in a cold and sober mood. When he had applied to the general for assistance in remaining in the army, more specifically the light cavalry, the general had turned him away. Deighnton needed the cavalry like a man needs his heart. Without it he would be an empty shell of a man with nothing to live for.

  In his grand library the general had been in an imperious mood and less than sympathetic.

  ‘You are on your own, sir. Your destiny is in your own hands. Tell me, do I owe you something?’

  ‘I did your work, sir, thoroughly and efficiently.’

  ‘I am aware of that, and I am also aware you were handsomely paid. Gratitude, I think, is not in either of our vocabularies.’

  ‘I am not asking you to be grateful, General. I’m asking you to use your influence on my behalf. I shall still continue to do what is requested of me. You will have in me – ’ Deighnton swallowed hard and uttered words which almost choked him – ‘a good and faithful servant.’

  Martlesham had then reached for a book from the bookcase, signalling that the meeting was over, but he added, ‘I have no further use of you, Captain. The Treaty of Tientsin has now been signed.’ He turned cold eyes on the tall cavalry officer. ‘You may go.’

  Deighnton stayed just a short while longer, then left as the servants came running.

  The morning after the meeting with Chandra and Hilversum both Jack and Cadiz had rested and were refreshed. He was easier on his mount on the return to Gwalior, having nothing to race back to but possibly a prison cell. He surprised himself by talking to the horse, explaining his troubles, knowing of course that the beast could not understand one jot. But for once Jack imagined the tone of his voice was drawing feelings of sympathy from the impassive Cadiz.

  And once back in Gwalior, the expected trouble was immediate.

  Major O’Hay was incensed.

  ‘What do you mean, you couldn’t find him? I told you where to look for the man.’

  ‘He was not there.’

  ‘You’re lying to me, Lieutenant.’

  Jack flared. ‘If I am, you know what you can do, Major.’

  The major did it. He placed Lieutenant Jack Crossman under arrest pending court martial. Among other crimes he was charged with wilfully disobeying an order.

  Jack spent a miserable time under close arrest. Sergeant King tried to see him, but was refused entrance. So was Rupert Jarrard. Private Wynte
r passed the building where Jack was being held and managed to jeer at his commanding officer before being grabbed and dragged away by the collar, courtesy of Corporal Gwilliams. So far as Jack’s own senior officers were concerned Jack felt he had been abandoned. He had been told by Hawke that this happened to intelligence officers from time to time, but he was none the less embittered by the experience. Sitting in his lonely room, with no one to counsel him, Jack’s hard feelings focussed on one man – Captain Deighnton. It raised all the fury of hell in him that this man had written lies to Jane – his beloved wife – and felt no remorse.

  ‘I shall make him pay,’ Jack resolved, ‘if it’s my last act on earth.’

  Knowing Deighnton’s reputation, he was aware that it probably would be Lieutenant Crossman’s final curtain call.

  His resolve had hardened to stone by the time Major Lovelace was standing in the room with him.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘Nathan. At last.’

  ‘Sorry, got held up. You know how it is. All been cleared up now. That idiot O’Hay has gone away ruffled, but the charges have all been dropped.’ The major extended a hand. ‘How are you?’

  ‘A bit ruffled myself.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nathan, I have to do something. I made myself a promise.’ Jack fingered the scar from the wound he had caused himself in order to escape the re-duel with Deighnton. Every time he looked at that scar he felt a flush of shame. It did not matter that Jack did not believe in great heroes or craven cowards, but believed men acted purely on impulse. He could no longer bear the thought that he had allowed Deighnton to bring scandal down on his marriage. ‘Will you act as my second? Along with Rupert Jarrard?’

  ‘I don’t need to ask who the quarry is. Must you do this? It’s all very unnecessary.’

  ‘I know, I know. And I’m aware that though you, Nathan, can be . . . well, determined in your aims, you only employ your skills when it is absolutely necessary. You would never waste your obvious talents on a duel, which is by definition a destructive thing. However, I have borne more than most men could bear, and can no longer turn my back. It is regrettable, I’m fully aware of that, but necessary to my self-esteem and my mortal soul. I cannot go through life carrying this with me.’