Queen's Gambit

by Bradley Harper

  23

  Monday, June 14, to Tuesday, June 15

  James stomped into the Ethington apartment after slamming the door, then flung himself into his favorite chair. Elizabeth and I exchanged glances at his stormy entrance.

  “I take it the day did not go well?” I asked, unsure how to proceed.

  “Fossils! If they didn’t occasionally move from behind their desks to go to their club, you could put them in a museum.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We are nearly slaughtered in the street, and what do we do? I’m told to wait and surveil a wealthy anarchist on the off-chance he could be sheltering the man. Piffle!”

  “What would you rather do?”

  “We have more information on our assassin, Herman Ott, and among his many talents he is a skilled electrician. A foreigner arriving unprepared in our country would have a difficult time finding employment as a gunsmith, but with the rapid spread of electrification in London, men with his experience have their pick of jobs. We expect a sketch of Ott in two days’ time. Until then, I could inquire around about any recently hired foreign electricians, but my hands are tied. Senior Inspector Murdock has assigned me to watch a well-to-do Russian anarchist. Murdock said it could lead to Ott, but I suspect he is just having me complete his checklist of known troublemakers prior to the Jubilee. He expects a full report in two days.”

  “Do you have any copies of old surveillance reports here?”

  “I probably have some drafts. Why?”

  “Elizabeth and I could watch the man, which would free you to follow your instincts. I write the report, and you edit it to sound like you, and no one’s the wiser.”

  His mouth gaped for a moment, then snapped shut. “You and Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Yes! A real surveillance. We can do it, Father. Please?”

  “Certainly not! Why, the very idea of the two of you playing detective . . .”

  “Is exactly what Elizabeth needs if she is to become one. Consider it a training exercise.”

  “I forbid it!”

  “Is this assignment dangerous?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Does it require any specific skill I do not possess?”

  James glared at me. “No.”

  “Then is there any logical reason not to allow us to help?”

  James swallowed. “I don’t want Elizabeth to become a detective.”

  Elizabeth went to James and laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be an adult soon, Father, free to make decisions on my own. Wouldn’t you rather I learn these skills now, while I have someone like Margaret to teach and watch over me?”

  “My little girl,” he whispered. “You’re all I have left.” He sat, unspeaking, for a moment. “Why does the world have to change so much, and so often?” Then he turned to me. “Please look after her.”

  “Like she was my own,” I promised, my voice huskier than usual. I cleared my throat. “I need a name, a description, and an address.” Then, to Elizabeth, I said, “Let’s go to your room. I need to take some measurements before we go shopping. Having you try on male clothing while dressed as a woman would attract too much attention, but you may have some preferences. The shops close in two hours, so make haste!”

  Elizabeth flew to her bedroom, so didn’t notice James’s sad smile as she left.

  On the way to the Kropotkin residence the following day, I reminded Elizabeth to stop scratching three times while on the Underground. “I thought we agreed not to ape that particular male mannerism,” I said.

  “But my legs itch! These short wool trousers rub every time I move. How do they stand it? Don’t they feel trapped in their clothes?”

  “If you’d ever worn a corset, you’d feel less sympathy for men, on that account at least, but if they’re so bothersome I suggest next time you wear stockings underneath. Now, be a good lad and behave.” We exchanged a smile, and Elizabeth settled down.

  James had advised me to favor male attire for the time being and I had just enough forbearance to pretend it was his idea. Elizabeth’s disguise was agreed upon by her and me, and we were both rather pleased with the result.

  She was dressed in short, charcoal-gray wool trousers with white knee-high socks, black brogans, a white shirt with suspenders, and a navy-blue blazer. I’d trimmed three inches of her hair to allow it to be neatly braided and placed beneath her flat schoolboy cap.

  I was in my Pennyworth attire, a modest clerk’s suit with a black derby, and wearing pince-nez glasses with clear lenses. My only extravagance was a gold watch and chain across a black silk vest. Together we looked like a father and son on an outing.

  Elizabeth was still ungainly as she tried to walk like a boy, but boys that age grow so quickly they tend to be awkward, so no one noticed. As the day wore on, her confidence grew. At one point she tried to spit. I advised her to practice in private before attempting it again.

  Peter Kropotkin was not a challenging subject, even for a novice like Elizabeth. He took a constitutional around the park after breakfast, a walk of about one mile. As it was a circuit, we observed his ambulation from the comfort of a park bench. I brought a book while Elizabeth wrote in her notebook, practicing shorthand. “It’ll be useful someday,” she said, “for when I am questioning witnesses.”

  The Russian seemed to get along well with his neighbors, greeting other walkers as he passed them, tipping his hat and speaking with the musical lilt of his native tongue. After his walk he returned to his house and sat by the window of his study, writing. No visitors happened by and no men other than Kropotkin were seen passing by the windows or in the surrounding garden. For a man who wanted to change the world, his own life appeared sedate.

  Elizabeth bought us meat pies from a pushcart and enjoyed gulping hers down in an unladylike way. “Being a boy is ever so much fun!”

  “It has its moments,” I agreed. “Do you know why we are here in male costume?”

  “Sure,” Elizabeth said, her mouth full. “For practice.”

  “Partly true. But also because men tend to pay less attention to other men, in public at least, unless they see them as a rival or a threat. But even the homeliest maiden will be scrutinized by every passing male beyond puberty. They can’t help it. Thus, dressed as women, they would be more apt to remember us the next time they saw us. In our masculine façade, their eyes slide right past us. A useful fact to remember, Detective.”

  She laughed. “This is the most fun I’ve had since, well . . .” She returned to her pie.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, and I’m sorry we won’t have more outings like this.”

  “I noticed how stiffly you walk in the morning. Are you sick?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Elizabeth finished her meal, then wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smiling as she did so. She turned toward me but avoided my eyes. “Is it serious?”

  “It’s hard to tell. I’m more apt to die with it than of it, but it will get worse over time. My doctors advise that I move to a warmer climate.” I put my hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I’ve booked passage to Australia on the seventh of July.”

  She looked away. “Does Father know?”

  “Not yet. I have no intention to deceive him, so I need to have that conversation soon. For both our sakes.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I’m sorry, Margaret. It’s been nice acting like a family for a little while. I’ve missed that, and it was nice to let someone else do the cooking.” She sighed. “How much longer should we stay here?”

  “It’s only now one o’clock. We should probably move to another bench, something in the shade, so that when Mister Kropotkin looks out, he doesn’t see us. Tell you what, once we move, I’ll let you compose our surveillance report for your father. Do it in shorthand, that way you’re practicing two skills at once.”

  “I’ll do my best to describe the pigeons’ activities with great precision.”

  Nothing of import happened until four o�
�clock, when Kropotkin and his teenage daughter went for a stroll together through the park. They made their way past us without a backward glance from the father, but the daughter paused to give Elizabeth a second look, then she smiled shyly before hurrying to catch up.

  Elizabeth blushed. “That was an odd moment. I think she was flirting with me!”

  “Take it as a compliment, both for your good looks and your convincing disguise. I don’t get many second looks from the ladies these days, but clerks rarely do.” Then in a dry voice, I continued, “Be sure to put that into your report.”

  “What, that his daughter is a flirt?”

  “I’d put it rather more diplomatically. Say she has an eye for handsome lads her age.”

  We shared a brief laugh before Elizabeth said, “I wish I could go to Australia. I love their accent, and they ride horses everywhere. I have never been on one. It all sounds so romantic, to ride with some handsome young man in the moonlight as he speaks his heart in an Australian accent.”

  “I must be sure to write that into my next novel, Elizabeth. I believe it would double my sales.”

  After the Kropotkins returned home, I stood and dusted off my trousers. “I think we’ve served queen and country well enough today. We have a bit of shopping to do before returning home ourselves, and I need your help to do it right.”

  “Why? What are we shopping for?”

  “An apology, of sorts. In the form of a new bowler hat.”

  24

  Tuesday, June 15

  Inspector Ethington was dressed roughly. Though he had the soft hands of an office worker, he hid them beneath leather work-gloves. He wore a flat cap, a rag tied around his neck, black wool trousers and vest, his ensemble completed with workman’s boots and a moderately clean white cotton shirt. Usually his job required him to be unnoticeable, but today he had a speaking role.

  He’d decided to start with the Municipal Utilities Department. The streets of London were for the most part electrified by this time, and a robust workforce was needed to maintain the network, making the Municipal Utilities Department the single largest employer of electricians within the city. James asked to see the department supervisor and when the secretary refused James showed his badge, explaining he was there on official business. Puzzled and awed, the young clerk knocked on a Mister Harwood’s office door and said, “There’s an important gentleman here who needs to speak with you.”

  Apparently his superior assented, as James was waved in immediately. Harold Harwood was not amused to see a common laborer ushered into his office, though his cigar nearly fell out of his mouth when he saw the badge. He turned pale and swallowed. “Inspector! To what do I owe the honor?”

  James could tell the man had something to hide and made a mental note to return once his current affair was settled. “I’m looking for an electrician. German. He’d have been hired within the past month. Any of your men come to mind?”

  Supervisor Harwood’s shoulders relaxed as James explained his mission. Good. Best you feel safe. For now.

  “None come to mind, Inspector, but I rarely meet the men myself. I could telephone my senior electrician. I leave such matters in his capable hands.”

  “Please do, sir. But I’d rather you not discuss the matter with him over the telephone. I’d prefer to speak with him in person if you don’t mind. Just summon him to your office.”

  “Very well,” he said, his hands shaking the slightest bit as he held the device.

  He wants me gone. He’s definitely hiding something.

  Bill Monroe was in his early forties. He was red in the face and the nose, and was ill-disposed to be called into the office without an explanation. “What’s this then, Mister Harwood? Not another complaint about Trafalgar Square! I can’t help it if hooligans like to throw stones at the lights. Just tell me where the problem is, and I’ll have me lads sort it. No need to call me on the carpet.”

  “I’m sorry, Billy, but this gentleman needed to speak with you. Inspector, I can take an early lunch and leave my office for your use. I’ll be back at one.”

  And flee the scene of the crime, James thought, while outwardly smiling and reassuring the man that would be just fine. I need to talk to my colleagues in Financial Crimes at Scotland Yard. This man reeks of guilt.

  After the supervisor made his hasty exit, the foreman and James sized each other up. “Whatever it is, Inspector, I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “I have no reason to doubt you, Mister Monroe. I didn’t come looking for you.”

  “Who then? Bishop? He’s always been a troublemaker. Be glad to give ’im to you.”

  “I’m looking for a man, an electrician. He could be using any number of names, but he’s German, and would have started work within the past month.”

  Monroe shook his head. “Naught like that with us. I’ve a Pole and a couple of Russian Jews, but no Germans at the moment. Why, what’s he done?”

  “I can’t discuss that. Is there anywhere you could recommend I ask? Time is short.”

  “You could try the Electricians Guild Hall, they could tell you who’s hiring.”

  “Excellent. Thank you for your help.”

  Monroe smiled through his yellowed teeth. “Seeing His Lordship scuttle out of here with his tail between his legs was all the thanks I needed. Good day.”

  James had been an inspector in the Criminal Investigation Division at Scotland Yard twelve years before his transfer to Special Branch, so when he walked into the Yard later that morning, several friendly faces greeted him. “Who’s available from Financial Crimes?” he asked Desk Sergeant Finney, a man James had once joined in a foot chase for a burglar.

  “Inspector Atkins, sir. He’s new, you wouldn’t know him. I get good reports, however. Next floor up, right-hand corner in the back. Any of our foreign ‘guests’ reaching into the till?”

  “No, Sergeant, but I may have stumbled over a local gone bad. That’s for Atkins to unearth.”

  James found his way to Inspector Atkins’ corner office and found the man poring over a ledger while humming a tune from Verdi’s Rigoletto, “La donna è mobile”—that is, “The woman is fickle.” A man who enjoys his work, James thought. I’m about to make him very happy.

  “Good morning, Inspector Atkins. Ethington, Special Branch.”

  Atkins looked up. Thirty years old with thinning hair and a thickening waistline, he was obviously in his element. “Good morning to you, sir. We don’t get your kind up here often. I’m intrigued. Please, take a chair and tell me how I can help.”

  James showed his badge to establish his bona fides, then took a seat and got to the heart of the matter. “Earlier this morning, I paid a call on the supervisor of Municipal Utilities, a Mister Harwood. I was looking for an electrician, but he was twitchy the moment I showed him my badge. He’s hiding something. Given his position, it’s most likely financial. I think a quick look at his books would be most entertaining, judging by your obvious relish for your work.”

  Atkins grinned. “Indeed, Inspector. There’s plenty of loose cheese in such departments to attract the odd rat. I think a couple of colleagues and myself could pay him a call this afternoon.”

  “He took an early lunch after I appeared. Said he’d be back at one. If you hurry, you can be there when he arrives. I think the shock of you sitting in his office when he walks in would make him confess on the spot.”

  “Wonderful idea, Inspector. Thank you. I’ll let you know what comes of this. Nice costume, by the way. You been stringing lines yourself?”

  “Not yet. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, or we’ll see how well I glow. Good day.”

  James left feeling better about his work than he had in some time. Feels good to help catch a thief again. He considered requesting a transfer back to the Criminal Investigation Division after the Diamond Jubilee. He’d gone into Special Branch as the hours were more regular and it left him with more time for his family, but Elizabeth needed him less now and would soon go
her own way, and Alice . . . was gone. Perhaps he should consider how he wanted to end his career—not as someone’s shadow—but as a policeman.

  25

  Tuesday, June 15, cont.

  The custodian at the boarding school was hauling out the dustbin when a man carrying a toolbox on a strap stopped him at the front door. “Excuse me,” Herman said, “I’m the electrician. I was asked to perform a safety examination of your wiring.”

  John “Jack” Connery was a man who didn’t like surprises, so he didn’t like this stranger with the German accent popping up on his front doorstep and interrupting his day. “I weren’t told naught about it. Be off!”

  Herman shrugged. “Sorry, sir, but if I don’t do my job, I don’t get paid. Surely you can understand that.”

  Jack had enough experience with bosses to believe the man. “Awright, awright. Just give me a moment to dump the leavings from these spoiled brats. Trust me, lad, just because they can sing like angels, don’t make ’em heavenly.”

  Herman nodded in sympathy, “Yes, I agree. Looks can be deceiving, can’t they? I’ll wait right here.”

  After the most recent pile of dirt which the boys regularly tracked in had been tossed away, Jack wiped his hands on his trousers and led the waiting electrician into the foyer on the ground floor. “You want to check the whole building, or just the basement where the lines come in?”

  “The entire building, please. There was a fire last week in Brighton, and as this building is occupied at night, someone thought a safety check was in order.” There had in fact been such a fire, though not in a boarding school, but it sounded truthful enough. Close enough to truth that the custodian swallowed it without a qualm, and they began their tour.

  “Where’d you like to start, then? Top or bottom?”

  “Basement first I think, though you’ve no need to follow me about. I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

  Jack shrugged. “Fair enough. There’s always something. I’ll have to be with you when you’re in the dormitory. Can’t have strange men poking around there, you understand. I’ll be cleaning on the ground floor. Follow the stairs here down to the basement. After you’ve done the basement and the ground floor, we can go up to the dormitory together.”