The crowd around the lift backed slowly away, apparently deciding she was no longer a threat, their faces showing more irritation than fear, while one or two scowled at her and tutted in annoyance. Flora debated what to do first. ‘I need to call the police,’ she addressed the porter, enunciating each word as if she was speaking to a child. ‘Where’s the hotel telephone?’
‘Going to turn yourself in, are you?’
‘No, that isn’t— Look.’ She pointed her hand at the far end of the lobby, creating a murmur of panic through the small crowd, though her hand was empty. ‘That man who rushed through here a moment ago is the dangerous one. He’s wanted by the police. Now where’s the public telephone?’
‘Er,’ the porter frowned as her calm request seemed to flummox him. ‘There’s one in the corridor leading to the function rooms for the use of guests.’
‘Thank you. I hope you haven’t just helped a murderer escape,’ she snapped in a combination of relief and tension.
‘I fear you are mistaken, madam.’ The porter recovered himself and peered down at her from his unusual height. ‘The man you pointed your weapon at is Mr Leonard Hunter-Griggs, a part owner of this hotel.’
‘No, he isn’t. I mean I know who he is, but— Oh, never mind.’ She had barely gone three steps before the main doors crashed open and several policemen surged through in a wave of navy blue, helmets bobbing as they took up places inside the doors and the front desk. Once in position, they produced guns from their belts while shocked murmurings went up among the crowd that milled inside the doors, spreading rapidly across the lobby.
Inspector Maddox, in his ubiquitous mustard check suit and bowler hat, pushed through to the front desk and addressed a shocked clerk. ‘I’m looking for a man named Eric Paige.’
Flora exhaled in relief and turned an imperious gaze on the porter. ‘Now do you believe me?’ She eased sideways through the crowd at the lift, most of whom had stopped staring at her as if she might grow horns, their attention on the irate man at the front desk.
‘I… I don’t know of such a person,’ the clerk stammered, his gaze transfixed on the sea of blue invading the lobby. He pulled a large ledger towards him and ran a finger down the list of names. ‘We… we have no Paige in the hotel.’
‘I’ll handle this, Reeves.’ Mr Jessup, the manager appeared and shoved the clerk to one side. ‘There must be a misunderstanding, Inspector. If you’ll just wait here a moment, I’ll inform my employers.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you, I have a job to do.’ Maddox glared at Mr Jessop, then addressed his men. gesturing with both hands to the side and rear of the hotel. ‘Paige is here somewhere. Spread out and guard the doors. No one leaves.’
‘Inspector,’ Flora eased to his side.
He glanced down at her, his glare still in place. ‘Mrs Harrington?’ His eyebrows took up residence in his hairline. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘The same as you. Trying to flush out Leo Thompson’s killer. I was right, wasn’t I? It’s Eric Paige?’ She leaned closer, not intimidated by his furious expression.
‘Yes, it is,’ he lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. ‘But I thought I warned you—’
‘Yes, I remember all your warnings, Inspector, but never mind that now. I cannot find Ed. Paige said he recognized him from the train and now I don’t know where he is.’ She stared frantically round the lobby, which was crowded with both anxious and interested guests, several policemen and a few staff, but no sign of Ed.
‘Lord Trent?’ Maddox’s face fell and he propped both hands on his hips beneath his unfastened overcoat. ‘Don’t tell me he’s here as well?’
‘Isn’t that what I just said?’ Why was he being so slow? ‘Ed went to find a telephone to call you, but it wasn’t long ago and, pardon me, Inspector, I doubt you work that fast, so I assume you were already on your way here?’
‘I’ll ignore that.’ Maddox’s upper lip curled briefly. He nodded to where his officers had spread out through the ground floor and one mounted the stairs. ‘This is a carefully planned operation.’
‘Then where is Ed?’ Flora’s gaze swept the lobby again, greeted only by fearful and interested faces. ‘And more importantly where is Paige? He took off through the crowd just before you arrived. I didn’t see where he went.’
‘You’ve seen him?’ The policeman gave her his full attention. ‘Which way did he go?’
‘I’m not sure. He disappeared beneath the curve of the staircase and I lost sight of him. But the function rooms are in that direction, and the dining room which leads to the kitchens.’
‘You.’ He tapped the shoulder of an officer beside him. ‘Take two men and go where she said.’
From the corner of her eye, Flora spotted the porter who had demanded she hand over her gun at the lift. Keeping his steady gaze on her he shoved through the crowd, halting beside Inspector Maddox.
‘I think you ought to be aware, officer,’ He pointed an arrogant finger at Flora. ‘This lady is armed.’
‘Armed?’ Maddox’s penetrating gaze swivelled towards her. ‘Is that true?’
Flora rolled her eyes. ‘It’s only a small revolver. Nothing like the ones your men are carrying.’ She nodded to where at least three policemen used their weapons to wave back the crowd in the lobby.
‘Hand it over.’ Maddox waggled the fingers of one hand, sighing.
She was about to refuse, but the combined scrutiny of the clerk and that of Mr Jessup, as well as the critical stares directed her way, changed her mind. Sighing, she retrieved the Bulldog from her bag and slapped it ungraciously into his open palm.
‘You realize you might have scared off Eric Paige?’ Maddox examined the little gun minutely. ‘What were you doing with something like this in a public place?’
‘I scared him?’ Flora gaped. ‘I’ll have you know, he trapped me in the ascending room and was taking me goodness knows where. I only got out by producing…’ She made a vague gesture at his hand, where the gun looked impossibly small and harmless.
‘Really?’ Maddox raised one eyebrow. ‘But you have no idea as to where Paige is now?’
‘I told you, he ran off. But he’s probably still somewhere in the building as you got here a few minutes after he left the lift.’
‘Let’s hope so, for your sake, madam. My men have orders not to let anyone leave the hotel until Paige is in custody.’
‘Then will you please send someone to find Ed?’
He stared at her for a tense moment before exhaling in a sigh and signalled to a nearby officer.
‘Tell Hicks to make a search for Lord Trent. Nineteen-years-old, sandy hair, arrogant expression and a penchant for meddling.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’ Flora could breathe again. ‘Now may I have my gun back? I promise I won’t use it.’
‘Hah! Not likely.’ He clutched at his pocket as if she might try to retrieve it herself. ‘The last thing I want is a civilian running around the place with a dangerous weapon. Especially a woman. Leave this to my men. They’re armed and well trained.’ He pointed at another of his men. ‘You, stay here and keep an eye on Mrs Harrington. She tends to get into trouble if left to wander.’ He aimed a slow wink in her direction. ‘And move these people back would you, Constable? I need some space to manoeuvre and could do without the flapping of idle ears.’
The officers dashed away in all directions, while alarmed and curious onlookers were ushered to the rear of the lobby, leaving the main doors and the staircase clear. The police presence with all its frantic activity should have reassured her, but Flora still felt helpless with nothing to do but watch.
Chapter 32
Guests already inside were ordered to stay where they were, while those attempting to pass through were subjected to close scrutiny before being sent back. Confined to a square yard of carpet by a stern officer who glared at her at intervals, Flora fretted, searching every face for Ed, but there was no sign of him.
With her nerves stretch
ed to the limit, she spotted William on the far side of the lobby. The sight of a familiar face made her heart jump almost painfully as she watched him conduct a brief but intense exchange with the policeman who guarded the door. For an anxious moment she thought he would not be allowed past but finally, the policeman lowered his arm and allowed him through the crowd towards her. Tears welled, her hands twitching as she resisted the need to throw her arms round him.
The policeman set to guard her blocked his way just as he reached her, one hand pressed against William’s chest. ‘Excuse me, sir, but you must step back.’
‘Inspector Maddox knows me,’ he whispered, elbowing the man aside. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’ he asked in a falsely bright voice, then more urgently, ‘What happened? There are armed police everywhere.’
‘Miss?’ His eyes widened pointedly and she caught on. ‘Oh, yes of course, thank you – sir. Just a little shaken.’ She wanted to hug him but resisted, whispering, ‘Not my doing this time.’
As if at the sound of his name, Inspector Maddox appeared. His gaze slid over William without interest, then he did a double take, his jaw dropping in disbelief. ‘Good God, Mr Osborne, is that you?
‘I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down, Inspector,’ William’s fierce whisper silenced him. ‘I’m not here, if you get my drift.’ He tapped the side of his nose with a finger. ‘My, er, associates observed your arrival and were understandably concerned. I volunteered to investigate. This young lady appeared distressed. Is everything all right?’
‘I assume your – associates,’ Maddox put mocking emphasis on the word, ‘are most likely holed up in a back room expecting to be rounded up at any moment. I imagine that happens a lot where they come from?’ He chuckled at his own joke, then in a stage whisper, said, ‘You can inform Mr Lenin he’s quite safe. I’ve not come for him or his Bolshevik friends.’
‘His Boll… er thank you, Inspector, I’ll let him know. Erm … how did you know they were here?’
‘In this hotel, or this country?’ Maddox chuckled again at William’s obvious bewilderment. ‘You don’t think a group of socialists would be on my patch without my knowledge? They were here two years ago and we had to keep an eye on them then.’
‘I meant the hotel, and you’re quite right, Inspector. Your intelligence is obviously as extensive as ours at the Foreign Office.’ William’s gaze swung to a point over their heads to where Vladimir Lenin and six swarthy men pushed their way through the crowd towards them.
‘Oh, blast,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I told him to stay in the meeting room. Flora, make yourself scarce, would you?’
‘Do I have to? He doesn’t know me, and I’d be interested to meet him.’ She raised herself onto her toes to get a good look in the pressing crowd.
‘Yes, you do. Now go.’ He gave her a firm shove.
Sighing, she eased beneath the curve of the cantilevered staircase, taking care to stay close enough to observe the exchange between Maddox and the Russians.
‘Mr Lenin, sir,’ Maddox grasped the Russian’s hand and gave it a hearty shake, forestalling whatever apology William had been about to offer. ‘Welcome back to London.’
The Russian’s cat-like eyes narrowed even further. ‘I had no idea the British police were so interested in my travels.’ Lenin said in surprisingly good, though heavily accented English.
‘The Metropolitan Police are aware of everything, sir. As guests in our country, your welfare is important to us.’ He waved an arm at the chaotic room. ‘I apologize for the disruption, but I’m in pursuit of a murderer at present, therefore I would ask you to remain here while we apprehend him.’
‘Are you referring to the man who killed a member of my delegation a few days ago?’ Mr Lenin withdrew his hand slowly from the policeman’s grip, his steady gaze fixed on Maddox’s face.
‘Yes, sir. A Mr Thompson. Found stabbed on a train,’ Maddox replied.
‘Mr Osborne told me of this.’ He nodded first at William, then approached his fellow Russians, who immediately closed into a tight circle and began talking loudly over each other in their own language.
A young policeman arrived at a run and halted beside the inspector. ‘Sir! One of our men thinks he saw Paige near the owner’s suites on the fourth floor ten minutes ago.’
The low murmur escalated into a muted roar as this news spread rapidly throughout the lobby, including the Russians who if anything talked faster and louder.
Maddox gestured to two policemen. ‘You two, get up there and see if you can flush him out. I’ll have men standing by down here.’
Flora emerged from under the stairs and crept back to where the Inspector stood.
‘It was the newspaper that brought you here, wasn’t it, Inspector?’ she whispered at his elbow. ‘The one Mr Thompson had in his suitcase.’
‘Still here, Mrs Harrington?’ Maddox’s narrowed-eyed stare told her he would have preferred otherwise.
‘Where else would I be? You have all the doors locked and guarded.’ She nudged him gently. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? The paper was a copy of Iskra’
‘It was, although not the most taxing part of the investigation.’ He sighed, resigned. ‘Once we established the connection between that publication, this hotel and the Hunter-Griggs, it wasn’t too difficult to put together. At first, I was unhappy about those Bolsheviks. I wanted to round up the whole bunch and drag them down to Canon Row, but my superiors instructed me to abandon that idea.’ He nodded to where William stood with Mr Lenin, their heads close together in urgent discussion. ‘And you don’t have to look so worried, I obeyed the order.’ His upper lip curled into a ghost of a smile. ‘Wouldn’t want to upset Whitehall, now would we? And it turns out the Russians had nothing to do with it.’
‘That was my conclusion as well.’ Not that he would give her any credit. ‘I don’t mean to tell you your job, Inspector, but are you aware he isn’t working alone? There’s also a woman who—’ she broke off as Frederick Hunter-Griggs pushed his way through the cordon of police.
‘What’s the meaning of all this?’ he demanded. ‘Some flatfoot just told me there’s a murderer on the premises.’
The manager, Jessup, appeared from another direction, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. ‘It’s all most irregular, sir. The Inspector appears to think Mr Leonard is a person of interest to the constabulary.’
‘There must be some misunderstanding!’ Mr Frederick insisted. ‘My brother can be headstrong at times, even reckless, but surely you cannot suspect him of murder? If you’ll allow me to send for him, I’m sure this can all be cleared up in a matter of moments.’
‘Our information says otherwise, sir,’ Maddox said. ‘Besides it appears your “brother” has made a run for it. If you would allow us to do our job, everything will become clear.’
Frederick’s confused gaze slid from Maddox to Flora. ‘My dear Mrs Harrington, how did you get caught up in this fiasco? Weren’t you upstairs with my sister?’ His gaze swept the crowded lobby. ‘Incidentally, where is Francis?’ The quick nervous movements of his hands showed discomfort at having lost control of the situation.
‘I… er haven’t seen her since the police arrived.’ Flora hesitated, unsure if he was complicit in the deception or not. His agitation certainly seemed genuine, as did an involuntary tick beside his left eye.
‘I assure you, Mr Hunter-Griggs,’ Maddox replied, ‘I have everything under control.’
‘I beg to differ, Inspector. What with your men dashing about in all directions with guns. Most upsetting for my guests.’
There was still no sign of Ed among the worried guests, harassed hotel staff and the half dozen serious-faced policemen. Her stomach knotted with worry, and she debated what to do next when a loud crack echoed round the lobby, followed by the tinkle and whoosh as the bevelled glass in the dining room door shattered.
Instinctively, Flora covered her head with her arms and dropped into a crouch behind a pillar. Heads swivelled to
wards the source of the noise, women screamed, men threw themselves upon their female companions, who cried out in alarm as a wave of shining crystals rained over them. Slivers of glass speared arms and faces, the scene magnified and reflected by the array of mirrors on the walls.
From among the chaos, a figure dived through the empty space where the glass had been, arms braced over his head to protect his face. Revolver in hand, he landed with a crunch of glass, staggered, but stayed on his feet, then let off another shot, which punctured the pillar beside Flora. More screams sounded and he waved the gun wildly in case anyone was reckless enough to approach him as he headed for the main doors.
Paige.
One of the policemen let off a shot from near the stairs, which missed its mark but pinged off a metal urn, while the next exploded a vase of flowers into a colourful rainbow, showering purple irises and pink chrysanthemums in all directions.
‘Don’t they practise with those things?’ Flora muttered, more annoyed at how chaotic everything had become and yet no one seemed concerned for Ed. Guests, staff and policemen dived to the floor. A man hit by flying glass toppled into a pedestal dislodging a five-foot-high plaque on the wall that crashed heavily onto the floor and disintegrated into chunks of jagged plaster.
Still on her knees, Flora poked her head out from behind the pillar just as Paige reached the entrance. One of the still standing policeman was about to raise his revolver, but it barely skimmed his waist before Paige punched him squarely in the face. The officer crumpled to the floor, dropping his gun which discharged, shattering a plate-glass window that overlooked the street; the destruction greeted by more panicked screams from inside the lobby and the road outside.
Paige’s own gun had also been knocked from his hand by the falling policeman. It sailed through the broken window and skittered across the pavement into the road. An urgent car horn sounded, while passing pedestrians visible through the broken front window scattered as Paige leapt through the jagged edges of the glass that still clung to the frame.
The Bloomsbury Affair Page 29
