by Jim Eldridge
Some of the students joined Daniel in grinning at this, amused.
‘However, it is not in my nature to be warned off, nor is it in Miss Fenton’s. So we intend to pursue that line of enquiry. Having been warned off once, and at that time by three men, I fully expect that the next time there may be more of them.
‘Now I’m not looking for a brawl. Ideally, we’ll be able to settle this without the need for physical violence and get them to tell us who they’re protecting. The situation is complicated by the fact that the local law enforcement appears to have no jurisdiction over the army.
‘To that end the plan is that I return to the barracks and say that I insist on seeing the commanding officer. I’ve already been told that to do this I have to submit a request in writing. So I’ll inform them that I intend to return at such-and-such a time with that request in writing. It’s my guess that when I make that visit with my letter, they’ll send some men to follow me as I leave the barracks and attack me. And that is where you come in.
‘When they grab me I’ll blow my old faithful police whistle. That will be the signal for you to appear. My hope is that at the sight of you, they’ll surrender. But they might not.
‘Our aim is to get hold of as many as we can and take them to the local police station where I’ll make a citizen’s arrest and insist they are charged with assault. I’m hoping that at least one or two will be eager to avoid that, so they’ll tell us who is behind their actions. At this stage, that’s all we need – the identity of the person pulling the strings.
‘Now there may be violence, if they resist. I’m telling you this in advance and I won’t think less of you if some of you, having heard this, decide not to be involved. I will absolutely understand.’
A hand went up from a young man at the front. ‘How many of them do you think there will be, sir?’ he asked.
‘I have no way of knowing,’ admitted Daniel. ‘But my guess is there won’t be too many; they won’t want to draw attention to themselves by having a platoon walking along, none of them in uniform. They’ll look too much like a gang and someone might raise an alarm. And, as far as they’re concerned, there’ll be just me to deal with.’
Another hand went up.
‘When do you intend to do it?’ asked the student.
‘I was thinking of tomorrow morning, if you’re available,’ replied Daniel.
‘We’re available!’ offered a chorus of voices, and most of their faces broke into broad smiles and they rubbed their fists together in gleeful anticipation.
‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Daniel gratefully.
Creighton rose from his seat and joined Daniel at the front. ‘Well, there we are, chaps,’ he said. ‘I will be with you, of course. As Mr Wilson says, hopefully they’ll capitulate at the sight of us, but if they don’t …’ And he began to chuckle. ‘There’ll be a scrum to remember!’
Creighton made arrangements for them all to meet up again at the university the next morning, and then waved the students off to their various classes. One student, however, stayed behind, a shy-looking, short, young man, and slim for a rugby player, thought Daniel. Creighton gestured for the young man to join him with Abigail and Daniel.
‘Abi, I’d like to introduce Simon Cardew, our fly half, who’s very keen to meet you. He’s studying archaeology here.’
‘It’s my pleasure to meet another student of archaeology.’ Abigail smiled at the young man.
‘I’m not on your level, I’m afraid,’ said Cardew. ‘But I hope to be one day. When Professor Creighton told us you were here and that you’d be coming in today, I was almost lost for words. I’ve been an admirer of your work ever since my father told me about working with you at Giza.’
‘Cardew?’ said Abigail. ‘Not Hereward Cardew?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’ He gave an apologetic smile and said, ‘Actually, he’s Sir Hereward now, which he tends to be a bit dismissive of when it’s mentioned, but it’s bucked up my mother no end.’
‘Lady Cardew.’ Abigail nodded. ‘I can understand that.’
‘The thing is that Pa told us about you when he came back from Giza, said you were the most brilliant archaeologist he’d ever worked with. Even better than Petrie.’
‘Oh really!’ scoffed Abigail, but Daniel was amused to see that she was blushing, even though she was trying to appear nonchalant about this praise. ‘Your father was always a very nice man. I’m sure he was just being kind.’ Then she added, ‘And he’s an archaeologist of the highest stature himself, otherwise he wouldn’t have received the knighthood.’
‘Pa says it’s certainly helped when they’re trying to raise funds for an expedition. Anyway, Miss Fenton, I know this is terribly forward of me, but when I heard you would actually be coming here today with Mr Wilson, I asked Professor Creighton if he wouldn’t mind introducing us so I could shake your hand.’
‘It will be my pleasure to shake the hand of the son of Hereward Cardew,’ said Abigail, and held out her hand for the young man to shake. ‘And do please pass on my regards to your father when you’re next in touch with him. And to your mother, of course.’
As they walked away from the university, Daniel grinned as he said to Abigail, ‘I’m beginning to understand how Prince Albert must have felt when he and the queen appeared somewhere. Like “Who’s that man standing beside that famous woman?”’
‘Jealous?’ Abigail smiled. ‘It’s the same for me when people talk about the famous Inspector Wilson from Scotland Yard, hunter of Jack the Ripper, and treat me as if I’m not there.’
‘That’s not been the case here, or elsewhere when we’ve been investigating a case,’ said Daniel. ‘Everyone seems to have heard of the internationally renowned Egyptologist Abigail Fenton.’
‘That’s because the cases we’ve investigated have been centred on museums that are known for their archaeological displays,’ pointed out Abigail. ‘So of course my name is familiar to them. Just as yours is to the policemen we meet.’
‘But often with a different attitude,’ said Daniel. ‘You are treated with veneration. For me, here, with Inspector Grimley, as with Superintendent Armstrong at Scotland Yard, the reaction is to treat me with open contempt.’
‘Perhaps archaeologists are more polite than policemen,’ mused Abigail. ‘Although I can recall one or two who refused to work with me purely because I’m a woman.’ Suddenly she stopped and looked at Daniel with a thoughtful expression. ‘We keep talking about a mysterious someone in the army who RSM Bulstrode is working hard to protect. What if it’s Bulstrode himself who’s the murderer? He’s a soldier; he’d know how to use a bayonet effectively. And if it’s about protecting the good name of the regiment from some dreadful secret coming out, he’s shown he’d certainly do that.’ She looked at Daniel as he stared at her. ‘Or is that too simple?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m only staring at you because it’s brilliant! I’ve been thinking that Bulstrode is trying to protect a senior officer, but say the secret is somewhere in his family? Many soldiers follow their fathers into the army. Say his father, or grandfather, were at Peterloo?’ He frowned, frustrated. ‘But how do we find out if he was in the museum on the Thursday morning? He’ll deny it even if he was.’
‘Jonty Hawkins,’ said Abigail. ‘He’s got a good eye and a good memory. He spotted Bickerstaff. If Bulstrode was there that morning, he might have seen him.’
‘Excellent!’ said Daniel. ‘I’ll ask Mr Hawkins if he will agree to accompany me when I go to the barracks with Creighton and his rugby squad tomorrow.’
‘You’re surely not going to involve him!’ said Abigail.
‘No,’ Daniel assured her. ‘I can’t see Jonty engaging in a brawl with some soldiers. I’ll ask him to stand across the road from the barracks while I engage Bulstrode in conversation when I first arrive. After, he’ll be able to say whether Bulstrode was at the museum that morning.’
‘He might not; he told me the museum got very busy,’
cautioned Abigail.
‘It’s worth a try,’ said Daniel. He smiled at her. ‘If it is him, he’s been under our nose all this time, and I missed it. Thank heavens for a partner with a brain!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Next morning they decided they’d go to the museum first and ask Hawkins if he would accompany Daniel to the barracks for discreet observation and hopefully recognition of RSM Bulstrode. Then, if Hawkins agreed, Daniel would take him to the university to meet up with Creighton and the rugby squad, while Abigail stayed at the museum looking at the artefacts from Hawara so that she could refer to them during her talk.
It was as Daniel saw the look of doubt on Jonty Hawkins’s face as he outlined what they were planning that morning that he had misgivings about asking the young man.
‘I can see you have reservations,’ he admitted.
‘Not really,’ said Hawkins. ‘I was just wondering how much you wanted me to be involved. You said you expected to be attacked.’
‘You will absolutely not be involved in that,’ Daniel assured him quickly. ‘The extent to which we’d appreciate your assistance is for you to stand on the other side of the road when I meet with RSM Bulstrode at the main gate, and afterwards tell me whether you think he might have been at the museum on the morning when the young woman was killed. And then afterwards for you to take a bus back to the museum.’
‘And shortly after that you expect to be attacked,’ said Hawkins.
‘If I’m right, I will be,’ said Daniel. ‘At which point the rugby squad from the university will come to my defence. You will have no part to play in that. Your role will be purely observational. But if that gives you pause, I will absolutely understand if you decide—’
‘No, no,’ said Hawkins quickly. ‘I’m happy to join you. But first we need permission from Mr Steggles for me to leave my post temporarily.’
‘Of course,’ said Daniel. ‘I’ll come with you and explain the situation to him.’
Steggles was intrigued, and then supportive, after Daniel had explained to him their plan.
‘Of course, the reputation of the museum is our top priority,’ he said.
‘Absolutely,’ said Daniel. ‘And Mr Hawkins will not in any way be involved in any action; his role will be purely to say whether he believes that RSM Bulstrode may have been here at the museum on that Thursday morning. After that, he will return here.’
Steggles looked enquiringly at Hawkins. ‘Is that acceptable to you, Mr Hawkins?’
‘Very much so, sir. I will do anything I can to help find out why this poor woman met such a terrible end.’
With approval granted, Daniel and Hawkins set off for the university. As they walked, Daniel glanced at Hawkins’s attire of the long velvet frockcoat and his long hair curling over his collar, and the hint of rouge on his cheeks, and wondered how the rugby-playing students would react at his arrival. It therefore came as a complete surprise to Daniel when they entered the same lecture theatre where Creighton and the students were waiting, and Creighton let out a warm cry of ‘Jonty! Look, lads! It’s the Killer!’ and the students rose from their seats and crowded around Hawkins, shaking his hand in obviously warm greeting.
‘You know Mr Hawkins?’ Daniel whispered to Creighton.
‘One of the finest rugby players Manchester ever produced,’ said Creighton. ‘Used to play for the Old Athenians. A super flanker, before, sadly, he found his muse in poetry and abandoned the game.’
‘Why did you call him the Killer?’ asked Daniel.
‘Because we played the Athenians twice, and both times Hawkins absolutely killed us with his pace and the way he ran the game. Gosh, I wish he’d been at this university; we could have built the team around him.’ He looked towards where Hawkins was enjoying animated conversation and asked Daniel, ‘Is he taking part in the action?’
‘No. He’s just coming with me to hopefully identify someone, then he’ll be returning to the museum.’
‘Pity,’ said Creighton. ‘You won’t find a better man in a ruck.’
With that, he called the crowd to order and ran through the plan of action. They would make for a side road not far from the barracks, where Creighton knew they would be able to hide themselves. ‘It’s an alley by the railway arches where there are mainly small businesses. They’re used to groups of young men hanging about there, so we won’t look out of place. And it’s near enough to the main road for us to be able to hear your whistle, Daniel. Providing you manage to get it to your mouth if they jump you.’
‘I’ll have it ready to hand,’ Daniel assured him. ‘We shouldn’t have long to wait. Once Mr Hawkins and I have carried out our observations, I’ll join you all for twenty minutes or so to give them time to assemble their men, then I’ll return to the barracks and deliver my letter. That should be the trigger for them to make their move as I walk away.’
‘And then, into battle!’ exclaimed Creighton.
The party set off, and Daniel was surprised to observe how little notice the rugby players seemed to be taking of Jonty Hawkins’s attire, or his hints of rouge. As far as they were concerned all they saw was an old rugby opponent who’d run rings round them, and they engaged in conversation with him on their walk, leaving Daniel and Creighton free to converse.
‘You feel sure this will reveal the murderer?’ asked Creighton.
‘If the murderer and the person the army are covering up are one and the same,’ said Daniel. ‘Of course, there may be two different things happening here and they may not be connected, but my nose tells me they are.’
‘Your nose?’
‘A copper’s nose,’ said Daniel. ‘It sniffs out the truth and what’s really going on in a case. Coppers develop one after years on the force.’
They arrived at the alley leading to the railway arches, and Creighton and the rugby squad slipped down it. Daniel and Hawkins carried on, Hawkins deliberately falling back and then crossing the road. Daniel walked on, past two more side streets, until he reached the barracks, where he asked one of the two sentries on duty at the main gate if RSM Bulstrode was available. One of the sentries marched into the main building, reappearing a short while later accompanied by RSM Bulstrode. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Jonty Hawkins materialise on the other side of the road and loiter, apparently studying the nearby houses.
‘Good morning, Regimental Sergeant Major,’ said Daniel. ‘Do you remember me?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘You told me when I came before that if I wished to meet your commanding officer I would need to make an appointment.’
‘That’s correct, sir. That’s the procedure.’
‘Then I would like to make an appointment with him. Tell him I wish to talk to him about Peterloo.’
The RSM’s face darkened and he glowered at Daniel. ‘For what purpose, sir?’
‘I’ll tell him when I see him.’
The RSM hesitated. Daniel could see from the tic and contortions in his face he was doing his best to control the anger inside him.
‘All applications for appointments need to be made in writing,’ he said finally in a voice strangled with emotion.
Daniel nodded politely. ‘Thank you. I’ll do that. I’ll return in a half an hour’s time and bring my letter with me.’ He tipped his hat. ‘Good day.’
He walked away.
The RSM glowered after him. ‘Oh no you won’t, you bastard!’ he muttered vengefully under his breath.
Daniel strode away, to be joined by Hawkins.
‘Well?’ asked Daniel. ‘Was the man I was talking to at the museum on that Thursday?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Hawkins. ‘But it’s difficult to be absolutely sure. I tried to imagine him without the uniform and wearing civilian clothes. The problem is there were quite a few people around that day.’ He fell silent, mulling it over, then announced, ‘I don’t believe so, sir. He had a very fixed glare about him, an aggressive stance in the way he stood. I don’t think I saw any
one with that face or that posture on that day. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise,’ said Daniel. ‘Your coming here today has been invaluable.’
Hawkins sighed. ‘But not very helpful.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s eliminated someone from the investigation. At least, as far as him being a suspect is concerned.’
RSM Bulstrode strode into the barracks, a look of fury on his face, and found his way obstructed by a corporal standing in the doorway staring out into the street.
‘What do you think you’re up to, Corporal Watkins?’ he barked.
‘Sorry, sir,’ said the corporal, springing to attention and saluting smartly. ‘I was just spotting that bloke you was talking to.’
‘Bloke!’ snorted Bulstrode angrily. ‘A snake in the grass, Corporal! A viper!’
‘He’s that all right, sir,’ said Watkins with vehemence.
‘You know him?’ asked Bulstrode, intrigued.
‘I met him,’ said Watkins. ‘That’s the bloke got me nicked on the train back from Birmingham.’
‘Oh?’
‘I hooked up with this doxy on the train and she nicked me wallet. When I remonstrated with her this bloke poked his nose in, and next minute he’s punched me out and got me arrested and I spent a night in the cells. Luckily, I played the old soldier bit and they let me go, but that’s me good name gone! Bastard!’
Bulstrode smiled. ‘In that case, you’re just the man for what I’ve got in mind for him. I need you and a few others to carry out a special operation.’
Watkins frowned. ‘What sort of operation, sir?’
‘An unofficial one. But one that has the backing of the powers that be.’