Assassins

by Jim Eldridge

  ‘They need to know what is in store for them. The danger.’

  ‘They’re all good police officers who’ve been tried and tested on the street. And four of them are veterans of the war. They all know what danger is.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I look forward to seeing you and your team here at Scotland Yard. Ask for me.’

  ‘Yes, sir. What time?’

  ‘Six o’clock this evening. We’ll be spending the night at Buckingham Palace.’

  There was a pause, then Alder’s voice said, ‘Did you say Buckingham Palace, sir?’

  ‘I did, Sergeant.’

  There was another pause, then he queried, ‘The Buckingham Palace, sir? The one at the end of the Mall?’

  ‘It’s the only one I know of, Sergeant. So, yes. That one.’

  There was another pause, then a chuckle. ‘My old woman won’t never believe this, sir! Me at Buckingham Palace!’

  ‘We’ll be in the stable block, Sergeant. Not the main building.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, sir!’ He chuckled again. ‘Me, spending the night at Buckingham Palace! My old woman will dine out on this for years!’

  After he’d hung up, Stark thought to himself apprehensively, Let’s hope that after tomorrow you’re around to enjoy the memories with her, Sergeant.

  He picked up the receiver again and asked for an outside line. I’ve never used a telephone so often in such a short space of time, he reflected. I could get used to this. Maybe I do need one of these at home.

  He dialled Amelia’s number, and when she answered, he took a deep breath, then said bluntly, ‘It’s Paul. I’m afraid I won’t be able to come tonight.’

  ‘Your son?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I have to spend the night at Buckingham Palace.’

  There was a pause, then she said, ‘That’s the most feeble excuse I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘It’s actually true. I’ve been asked to guard the King when he travels to make a live wireless broadcast tomorrow. It’ll be in all the newspapers in the morning, so you’ll be able to read about it.’

  ‘But … why you? Surely that’s a job for Special Branch. Aren’t they the people who are supposed to handle royal protection?’

  ‘Normally, yes. But these aren’t normal times.’

  ‘The Hand of Justice?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused, then said, ‘The thing is, if things should go wrong, and anything happens to me tomorrow …’

  ‘Why should anything go wrong?’

  ‘These are dangerous people we are dealing with. And they may not like the idea of the King making the broadcast.’

  ‘Paul, if you die, I shall never forgive you.’

  ‘I have a duty, and the broadcast was my idea.’

  ‘Then you’re a fool!’

  ‘I won’t die.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The same sort of promise you made when you said you’d come to me tonight?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It goes with the job.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice suddenly sad. ‘I suppose it does.’

  She was silent at her end of the phone, and he said, ‘I shall come to see you after this is over. Tomorrow.’

  There was a note of bitterness in her voice as she asked, ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. Then added, ‘In as far as I can.’

  He waited for her to speak. Finally, she said, ‘Yes, I understand. I’m sorry I was harsh.’

  ‘You weren’t harsh,’ he assured her.

  ‘In that case, I didn’t express myself properly. I feel harsh.’ She paused. ‘Please come back safely.’

  It suddenly hit him that those were the self-same words that Susan had said to him when he set off for the war, and – before he could stop them – tears began to come from his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

  ‘Paul?’ she asked, suddenly concerned.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, when I return.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  Danvers rang the bell of his parents’ house. He still had a key to the front door, but he felt unsure of his ground. How long had it been since he’d left? Since he’d last spoken with his father? Nine months, surely. Perhaps more.

  The door opened, and Bridges looked out at him. ‘Master Robert!’ he gasped, and his face lit up with momentary pleasure before returning to his usual formal expression of welcome.

  ‘Is my father in?’ asked Danvers.

  ‘Yes, sir. He’s in the drawing room with your mother and Miss Letitia.’

  ‘Would you announce me, Bridges?’ Then he changed his mind. ‘No, on second thoughts, I’ll announce myself.’

  Bridges looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure, Master Robert,’ he said uncertainly.

  ‘Yes, I think I am,’ said Danvers. I’d rather he ordered me out than slammed the door in my face and refused to see me, he decided.

  Danvers followed Bridges to the drawing room.

  ‘Excuse me, sir …’ began Bridges, but he was interrupted by Lettie getting to her feet and uttering a cry of delight. ‘Bobby!’

  Colonel Danvers turned and stared at his son, a look of indignation on his face as if he couldn’t believe it. ‘What the devil do you mean by barging in like this, without prior notice?’ he demanded.

  ‘Deverill …’ began Victoria Danvers to her husband unhappily.

  ‘I apologize for the unscheduled arrival,’ said Danvers, ‘but I have to go to Buckingham Palace this afternoon on an assignment, and …’ He hesitated, then finished, ‘We are uncertain about the outcome.’

  ‘The outcome?’ repeated his father, bewildered.

  ‘Buckingham Palace?’ echoed his mother.

  ‘The King?’ asked his sister.

  ‘Robert, sit,’ ordered his mother. ‘Bridges, bring tea.’

  ‘Yes, m’lady,’ said Bridges, and he withdrew to the kitchen.

  Danvers looked at his father. ‘May I sit, Father?’ he asked.

  ‘If your mother says so, of course,’ grunted Colonel Danvers.

  Danvers took a seat on one of the settees, and immediately Lettie left her own chair and sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers. ‘Oh Bobby, it’s so good to see you here!’ she said.

  ‘Enough of that!’ said the colonel sternly. ‘Let’s hear about this business of Buckingham Palace. What do you mean?’

  ‘You may have heard about an organization called the Hand of Justice,’ said Danvers. ‘They were behind the murders of Lord Amersham, the MP Tobias Smith and Water Parrot, the newspaper owner.’

  ‘Your CO, Stark, came round here and accused me of killing Amersham!’ growled the colonel. ‘I suppose that was your idea!’

  ‘No, Father. It was me,’ said Lettie. ‘I heard you threaten him.’

  Colonel Danvers scowled and shook his head. ‘My own daughter, betraying me!’

  ‘She didn’t, Father,’ said Danvers. ‘She came to me because she was worried. It was I who told Chief Inspector Stark.’

  The colonel turned his angry glare on his son. ‘I knew it!’ he snarled. ‘Well, let me tell you—’

  ‘Deverill, desist!’ his wife ordered, her voice suddenly sharp.

  The colonel turned to her, surprised. ‘Now look—’ he began.

  ‘I have been hoping for almost a year that Robert would walk through that door again, and now he has, you continue to abuse him as you always did!’

  ‘I never abused him!’ protested the colonel.

  ‘Not physically, perhaps, but you verbally chastised him and humiliated him, just because his views may have been different to yours. Now that he has come back, I for one want to hear what he has to say.’ She turned back to Danvers. ‘Let’s start with why you are here.’

  ‘Buckingham Palace!’ burst out Lettie.

  Danvers told them: the threats from the Hand of Justice, the planned wireless broadcast that was to take place the next day, and his role as police protection fo
r the King.

  ‘The King chose you?!’ asked Lettie, delightedly.

  ‘I don’t think he knows I exist,’ admitted Danvers. ‘But they chose my boss, DCI Stark, and he asked me.’

  ‘They must think very highly of this chief inspector if they’ve asked him to protect the King,’ commented Danvers’ mother.

  ‘They do,’ said Danvers. ‘It was he who solved the murders.’

  ‘They need a soldier for that sort of protection work, not a policeman!’ snorted Colonel Danvers.

  ‘He was a soldier during the war,’ said Danvers. ‘Rose through the ranks to become a captain. Won the DSM for bravery. He’s very highly regarded.’

  Colonel Danvers fell silent.

  ‘And he’s chosen you!’ said Lettie brightly.

  ‘Luckily,’ nodded Danvers. ‘The thing is, we’re not sure how successful we’re going to be tomorrow, with catching these villains.’ He hesitated. ‘The DCI suggested I call to see you, just in case things don’t turn out well.’

  Danvers’ mother and sister exchanged puzzled looks, then Victoria Danvers half-closed her eyes with a shudder, while Lettie looked at her brother, puzzled.

  ‘Don’t turn out well?’ asked Lettie. ‘They might get away, you mean?’

  Danvers hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Colonel Danvers suddenly stood up. ‘Robert,’ he said, ‘I’d like to talk to you in the library. Then perhaps you could stay for some sandwiches.’ He looked at his wife. ‘That will be all right with Mrs Henderson, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it will,’ said Victoria Danvers.

  ‘I have to be back at Scotland Yard by six o’clock,’ said Danvers.

  ‘We’ll make sure you’re back in time,’ his mother said.

  Colonel Danvers headed for the door of the drawing room. Danvers got up and followed him. They passed Bridges, who was entering with a tray with teapots, cups and biscuits.

  ‘Tea, sir,’ said Bridges.

  ‘Serve it to the ladies, Bridges. Master Robert and I will be back shortly.’

  Danvers followed his father along the short corridor to the library. They went in and the colonel closed the door.

  ‘This business tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Could be trouble?’

  ‘It could be, sir. These are dangerous people.’

  ‘More than just guns, I assume?’

  ‘That’s what DCI Stark thinks.’

  The colonel nodded. ‘He’s an intelligent man. Too much of a Bolshie for my liking, but a good grasp of the situation. Explosives? Bomb to kill the King?’

  ‘We hope not, sir, but there is that possibility.’

  The colonel nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’ll take care of yourself?’ he asked, and for the first time since Danvers could remember, his father’s voice was tentative, unsure.

  ‘I’ll do my best, Father,’ he said.

  The colonel nodded again. ‘Make sure you do,’ he said. He headed for the door. ‘We’d better rejoin your mother and sister; otherwise they’ll think we’re having words, or some such nonsense.’ He opened the door, then turned to his son and said, ‘By the way, say thank you to that inspector of yours, will you, for suggesting you call.’

  As Stark entered the reception area of the small hotel in Cadogan Square, he saw Collins and Broy in low and animated conversation with two other men, who nodded as they listened. Broy seemed to be doing most of the talking, but he stopped when he saw Stark and strode towards the chief inspector, a scowl writ large on his face.

  ‘You’re not welcome here!’ he snapped.

  ‘Jaysus, Ned, will you let the man say what he’s come for before you jump down his throat!’ sighed Collins, joining them. ‘For all we know, he’s just popped in for a quiet pint and nothing to do with us at all!’

  But he smiled as he said it, and Stark nodded to acknowledge the quip. ‘Indeed,’ he said quietly. ‘But, as it happens, I would appreciate a few moments of your time, Mr Collins.’

  ‘There’ll be no questions asked of us by the police without a warrant!’ barked Broy.

  ‘In a non-official capacity,’ added Stark, his eyes remaining on Collins. ‘Nothing to do with police business.’

  Broy studied Stark, the scowl still on his face, but now his brow creased in suspicion. ‘It’s a trick, Michael,’ he announced.

  ‘No, I think not,’ said Collins casually. ‘The chief inspector and I understand one another. You fellas talk among yourself while I have a word with Mr Stark.’

  ‘Be careful!’ hissed Broy.

  ‘I’m always careful, Ned,’ smiled Collins. ‘Jaysus, I wouldn’t have survived as long as I have if I wasn’t. Shall we repair to the bar, Mr Stark?’

  Collins led the way through to the small bar. Although it was busy, the crowd parted for Collins as he strolled to where two men were sitting in armchairs. As they saw Collins approach, they stood up and let Collins and Stark settle themselves down.

  ‘Thank you, fellas,’ nodded Collins.

  The two men stood, scrutinizing Stark warily. Part of the delegation, thought Stark. Foot soldiers, possibly bodyguards.

  ‘Would you fetch us a couple of whiskies, Sean?’ asked Collins. He turned to Stark. ‘They do a lovely Irish here. And I believe you’re off duty, if this isn’t police business.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Collins,’ nodded Stark. ‘I am indeed.’

  Sean headed to the bar, and a nod from Collins to the other man resulted in the space around them suddenly getting larger as, with discreet nudges, the others in the bar moved to give them privacy. The commander of his troops, reflected Stark.

  Sean reappeared with two tumblers filled with the glowing amber liquid, which he placed on the small table between the two armchairs, before moving back to join his compatriots, and Stark realized that the whole bar was the territory of the delegation.

  Stark and Collins raised the glasses.

  ‘Slainte!’ toasted Collins.

  ‘Cheers,’ returned Stark.

  Collins smiled. ‘We’ll have to get you making a proper toast before we leave, Mr Stark.’ He savoured the whiskey approvingly. ‘You know the word “whiskey” comes from the Gaelic? From the early monks. It means water of life.’

  ‘Smoother than Scotch,’ commented Stark, letting the liquid roll around his tongue. It was indeed less harsh than Scotch, with a beautiful flavour.

  ‘So, Mr Stark?’ enquired Collins. ‘What brings you here, upsetting poor Ned?’

  ‘A short while ago you came to me with some advice which was very helpful.’

  ‘Your attackers,’ nodded Collins.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Stark. ‘You were right, of course.’

  ‘I still didn’t expect a personal thank-you visit,’ said Collins, his voice wary.

  ‘Let’s just say I hope I’m returning the favour.’

  ‘Officially?’

  Stark shook his head, then looked at the men in the bar.

  ‘You’ve no need to worry about them, Mr Stark,’ said Collins. ‘I know every man here.’

  ‘That’s not necessarily a guarantee of your security,’ said Stark.

  Collins bridled. ‘If you’re suggesting …’ he growled, stung.

  ‘I’ve just been put in a difficult position,’ said Stark. ‘By my own people: the police authorities and the government. Nothing to do with the Irish talks – a purely domestic matter, but a sensitive one. The problem is that if things go wrong, they will need someone to blame.’

  ‘A scapegoat.’ Collins drank more whiskey, then said, ‘I’m guessing you’re here to talk parallels, Mr Stark.’

  ‘I’ve been talking recently to a very experienced British diplomat.’

  ‘I trust Sir Edwin Drake was well,’ said Collins, and smiled as he saw Stark react. ‘I like to be kept informed.’

  ‘He’s worried,’ said Stark. ‘He thinks that if the talks reach an agreement that … a different faction is not comfortable with … it could lead to a bloody civil war.’ He looked Coll
ins squarely in the face and said, ‘Ireland needs a good leader if it is to go forward. I would hate the man who should be that leader to die for all the wrong reasons before good things can be achieved.’

  ‘And who might you be referring to?’ Collins asked with a hint of gentle mockery. Then he looked serious. ‘Mr Stark, what matters to me is Ireland’s freedom.’

  ‘At what cost?’

  ‘It’s already cost thousands of lives. But the end is in sight. Yes, there are different views on how to achieve it. Some of us feel that one step at a time may be the only way. Others differ. But we are united in our aim.’

  ‘I should trust my colleagues in the police and my masters in the government, because we are also after one thing: the security of the state,’ said Stark. ‘But if it doesn’t go to plan …’

  Collins smiled. ‘You’ve got a good and decent heart, Mr Stark, and I thank you for your concern,’ he said quietly. ‘But those of us who get involved with politics …’ And he raised his almost empty glass to Stark, who held his own out to Collins.

  ‘Slainte!’ said Stark, and drained the rest of his drink.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Stark let himself in and walked through to the kitchen. Sarah was darning, and Henry and Stephen were once more at work on their model aeroplane.

  ‘You’re home earlier than usual,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘I’ve come to tell you that I’m going to be out all night tonight,’ he said.

  Henry looked at him, scowled, then pursed his lips in silent disapproval.

  ‘I shall be at Buckingham Palace,’ Stark added, before his father could mention Amelia.

  His parents and Stephen stared at him, their eyes wide in shock.

  ‘Buckingham Palace?’ repeated Stephen. ‘With the King and Queen?’

  ‘Near to them,’ nodded Stark. ‘Sergeant Danvers and I and the rest of our team will be staying in the stable block at the Palace.’

  Henry and Sarah continued to stare at him, bewildered, as if he was talking to them in a foreign language.

  ‘Why?’ his father managed to babble out.

  Once again, Stark related the story of the King’s wireless broadcast from the Marconi factory, and the fact that he would need protection.