by Emily Organ
“Regarding the late Mr Forster.”
“I recall some gauche enquiries being made about him during your last visit. What makes you think I want to talk about the man? The sooner I can forget about him the better.”
“I wish to confirm something I have learned about him.”
“And you believe that I can fulfil your wish?”
“I hope so.”
“And you think I would be happy to do so after you and your brother-in-law sat in this very room last week and told me a tall tale about requiring a mortgage?”
“I apologise —”
“You wasted an hour of my time. That hour could have been spent with someone who had legitimate business with me.”
“I regret what happened, Mr Chakravarty, and I must ask you to forgive me.”
He gave a dry laugh. “If only you could have seen what an unconvincing duo you made! The pair of you were incredibly nervous, no doubt aware of the poorly devised plan you had come here to execute. Why couldn’t you speak to me directly as a news reporter?”
“I thought you might refuse to talk to me.”
Mr Chakravarty laughed again. “The irony is that you have now come to me as a news reporter anyway. Don’t you see how foolish you look, Miss Green?”
I felt tempted to lay part of the blame at James’ feet, but as he wasn’t present to defend himself I decided to accept the criticism as it was presented to me. I sat in my chair and listened patiently to Mr Chakravarty, aware that I had little chance of getting what I wanted from him until he had said his piece.
“I’ve done business with a lot of scoundrels, and over the years I’ve learned how to spot them. Forster caught me out, but on the whole I pride myself on being able to discern those who are genuine from those who are not.”
“Then why didn’t you confront me and Mr Billington-Grieg at the time?”
“It would have been an embarrassment, wouldn’t it? I try and avoid uncomfortable confrontations wherever possible. I’ve learned that it’s often better to allow my enemies to think they’ve got away with something.”
“I wouldn’t wish you to consider me an enemy, Mr Chakravarty.”
“Then don’t lie to me, Miss Green.”
“I shan’t lie to you again.”
“Good, though I’m sure you’re only saying that because you want something from me.”
“I wish to ask you a question because I’m trying to find out why four people with links to India have been brutally murdered within the past few weeks. I’m also trying to find my colleague, Inspector James Blakely, who has been missing for three days. My question to you will be quick and simple. If you have no intention of answering it please say so now and I’ll make my enquiries elsewhere.”
I could tell that while Mr Chakravarty had no wish to help me he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.
“I’m rather busy at the present time,” he said.
“Then I shall take my leave of you. I apologise for wasting your time further,” I said as I rose from my seat.
“What was your question, Miss Green?”
“Do you mean to answer it?”
“I can’t say either way until I know what the question is!”
It felt as though the conversation were turning into a game. I sat down again.
“I have reason to believe that Mr Forster may have been involved in the illegal trade of opium.”
“On what grounds?”
“I heard it from someone who worked at the Ghazipur opium factory in India.”
“Someone who knew him?”
“Of sorts. To your knowledge, was his merchant company involved in the procurement of stolen opium?”
Chakravarty paused to light his pipe.
“I made enquiries about the man after I realised he had defrauded me. The enquiries I made would seem to support your suggestion.”
“So I’m right! He had an arrangement with certain workers in Ghazipur that they would supply him with opium, which he then sold illegally to buyers in China?”
“I didn’t get into the detail, but I discovered enough to realise that the man was up to no good. I should have made my enquiries before lending him the money, but I let my guard down. There was something rather disarming about the man; he was quite likeable. I should have been more careful.”
“Are you familiar with Sheridan and Company?” I asked.
“I am indeed.”
“I spoke with Mr Sheridan this morning and he thinks Forster’s murder must be connected to his financial difficulties. However, I’m inclined to think the illegal opium trading could have been the cause. Engaging in such an activity is likely to have brought him into contact with unscrupulous people, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
“So which do you think it is?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Mr Chakravarty regarded me with a cool expression, giving nothing away.
“The money trouble or the illegal opium: which was the motive for his murder?”
“I have no idea, Miss Green. The police will find it all out, no doubt. Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that Forster’s misdemeanours caught up with him in the end.”
Chapter 58
It was late afternoon by the time I entered the reading room. During my omnibus journey I had pondered the information everyone had given me that day. If Augustus Forster, Alfred Holland and Charles Mawson had all been involved in the theft of opium, a single motive for their deaths appeared to have made itself clear. The motive for Mr Forster’s death appeared to have been extended to Mrs Forster even though she was likely to have been innocent of any involvement in her husband’s affairs.
I couldn’t understand why Mr Chakravarty was so sure that Forster had been involved in illegal opium dealing when Mr Sheridan was certain that he hadn’t. Sheridan had known Forster better than Chakravarty, so it made sense to believe his words. And Chakravarty had a motive for wishing Forster harm for defrauding him. I deduced that he might have been keen to support the idea of an alternative motive to deflect attention away from himself.
“Penny, how are you?” whispered Francis once I was seated at a desk. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“There’s no need to worry about me,” I replied. “Worry about James instead; there is still no word on his whereabouts.”
“Is there not?” Francis’ face grew more sombre. “I’m sure Scotland Yard are doing all they can to find him.”
“Actually, I don’t think they are,” I said. “I have an odd suspicion that Chief Inspector Cullen is hiding something from me, and I don’t know why. I’ve told him he needs to tell poor Charlotte, James’ fiancée, what he knows. It’s dreadful for her to have to sit around waiting for news.”
“And for you, I imagine.”
“For all of us! You consider James a friend, too, don’t you?”
Francis exhibited an odd expression. “Of sorts,” he replied.
“But it’s poor Charlotte who’s suffering the most,” I said, keen to pretend that I didn’t care as much for James as she did.
“Yes, I feel dreadfully sorry for Charlotte,” he said.
Francis’ manner seemed slightly offhand. Was it possible that he had realised how deeply worried I was about James? I decided to change the subject.
“I think I’ve found a motive for these dreadful murders,” I said, “but there are still a few matters that are confusing me slightly. I shall have a read through some copies of The Homeward Mail and see if I can find any more mentions of Mr Forster, Mr Mawson or Mr Holland in there.”
“Of course!” Francis seemed cheered by the opportunity to help. “Which year in particular?”
“1883 again, I think, and particularly the summer editions. I know we’ve looked through them already, but there must be something we’ve missed. I want to find out if Forster got himself into any trouble in India. I’ve met someone who says he did and someone who says he didn’t; I don’t know who to believe
. If The Homeward Mail cannot tell me I shall have to visit the India Office again and ask there.”
“No, don’t go near the India Office, Penny. Not after that terrible murder.”
“I shall be fine, Francis. No one will be bothered with me.”
It wasn’t long before I grew tired of leafing through page after page of The Homeward Mail. I could find no further information on the three men. I decided to call on Chief Inspector Cullen again and find out what he was doing in the search for James.
I walked down the steps of the British Museum and stepped out onto Great Russell Street, looking for a hansom cab to hail. The evening was sunny and uncomfortably warm. I crossed the road to find a cab travelling in the right direction. I had almost reached the Museum Tavern when I felt a sharp grip on my right arm. I tried to pull away, but the grip tightened.
“Ow! Get off!” I shouted.
I turned to see a man in a dark suit and a wide-brimmed hat, which partially obscured his face.
“Silence, Miss Green, I have a gun. Just do what I say and you won’t get hurt.”
Chapter 59
The man with the gun pushed me forward and stayed close behind me. I tried to sneak a look at his face.
“Look where you’re going, Miss Green, I’m warning you.”
He marched me past the Museum Tavern and left into Museum Street, then left again into a narrow, dingy street. I knew we were parallel to Great Russell Street and at the rear of the elaborate buildings which lined it.
My heart pounded. How could I get away? Did he intend to shoot me if I tried to escape? I thought of the severed finger James had been sent. If this man had something to do with that I would need to be extremely careful.
I thought of the description given of the villain who had attacked Mr Mawson and Mr Forster. The man holding my arm was remarkably similar. Was he the one who had shot Alfred Holland? He had a calm, professional demeanour, as though this was the sort of thing he did every day.
We passed a man sleeping in a doorway and a four-wheeled carriage awaited us up ahead. My heart thudded heavily. I was about to be driven to an unknown location.
“You won’t hurt me, will you?” I asked as we neared the carriage. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Keep quiet, like I said.”
Another man wearing dark clothing and a dark hat waited beside the carriage. He opened the door.
“Get in,” he ordered.
I was pushed forward and forced to climb up into the carriage. I did as I was told, my legs trembling. All the while I was considering how to escape. Surely there would be an opportunity to get away. As I stepped up into the carriage I lunged for the door handle on the opposite side.
“Stop there, Miss Green, or I’ll shoot!” came the order from behind me.
I reluctantly did as I was told, and as I turned I saw the second man pointing a gun at me.
“All right, I won’t try anything,” I said reassuringly, desperate for him to move the direction of the barrel away from me.
“You’d better not.”
He lowered the gun and the two men climbed inside the carriage.
I sat down on the sprung leather seat. “At least tell me who you are and what you want with me,” I said. “Can you please explain?”
“This is the third time I’ve asked you to remain quiet, Miss Green,” said the first man, “I’m beginning to find you troublesome. Take this as your final warning.”
He sat next to me and nodded at the second man, who was seated opposite. The second man pulled a black hood from his pocket, leaned forward and placed it over my head. The black cloth had a musty smell and completely obscured my vision.
“Not a word more from you, Miss Green,” said the second man.
What I guessed to be a piece of twine was placed around my neck, tightened and knotted. “And don’t you try taking this off,” he continued. “If you mess this up it’ll be a long time before anyone finds you.”
I swallowed nervously, staring at the black material before my eyes. I gripped the carpet bag on my lap and resolved to remain silent. One of the men knocked on the side of the carriage and we pulled away with a lurch.
Chapter 60
I strained to listen to the sounds beyond the carriage window as we travelled, hoping that I might gain some clue as to my whereabouts. We moved slowly to begin with, no doubt hindered by the traffic around us. I heard church bells strike five o’clock and the sound of hooves, carriages and voices. My travelling companions remained silent.
After twenty minutes or so our pace quickened, and I assumed this meant we were leaving the centre of London. We continued at this pace for some time, and I guessed we were on a long, straight road. There was still occasional street noise beyond the carriage window, but it had certainly grown quieter. I wanted to ask how long the journey would take but felt too frightened to speak.
The carriage stopped for a short while and then took a couple of sharp turns. I imagined we had crossed a major road junction. Then I heard the sound of trains, some moving at a slow speed and then a much faster one. We were obviously close to a main railway line, but which one?
We sat in silence for what must have been about an hour. The carriage eventually stopped and one of the men commanded me to climb out. I felt relieved that the journey had ended but anxious about the fate that awaited me.
One of the men held my arm as I clambered out of the carriage. There was paving beneath my feet, but I could hear little other than birdsong. I wondered whether anyone else could see me and what they would have made of the sight of two men and a woman wearing a hood over her head if so.
With the firm hand still on my arm I was marched swiftly toward a doorway.
“Mind the step, Miss Green,” said one of the men.
The warning came slightly too late and I stumbled over it. I felt floorboards beneath my feet and then a door was closed behind me. The only sound was footsteps on floorboards, and I felt as though I were in an enclosed space, perhaps a house.
“Sit down,” said one of the men.
I had no idea where there was a seat. I resisted when he gave me a shove, then fell back into a chair.
My breath was coming quick and fast. I felt more frightened now that I was behind a closed door. What were these men planning to do to me? What did they want? Would they harm me? My mind spun with fear. I tried to calm my breathing and clutched hold of the bag on my lap. Surely if these men wanted to rob me they would have taken it by now.
I wasn’t even sure whether there was anyone else in the room. Had they left me there alone? I hadn’t heard a door open or close.
“What do you want?” I asked as bravely as I possibly could. My voice sounded weak and there was a slight echo, as if the room was sparsely furnished.
I heard some muttering and then I jumped as I felt hands touching the rope around my neck. Someone was untying it. Then the hood was hauled off my head, pulling at my hair and spectacles as it was yanked away.
I squinted, my eyes unaccustomed to the light streaming through the curtains that partially covered a window in front of me. As my eyes adjusted I saw that I was sitting in an empty living room with only a fireplace and a few chairs in it. The two dark-clothed men stood near the fireplace, neither of them looking at me. They appeared to be waiting for someone.
I held my breath. What was about to happen? Was I to be shot?
Hearing footsteps beyond the door, I turned to see who it might be.
Into the room walked Chief Inspector Cullen.
Chapter 61
Unusually for the chief inspector, he smiled at me.
“Don’t worry, Miss Green, you’re safe now.”
Warm relief flooded over me. I was out of danger, but the situation still made no sense.
“Why did these men treat me in such a rough manner?” I asked. “I was terrified they would hurt me!”
“We had to do it to keep you out of harm’s way,” he replied. “Far better this than what might
otherwise have happened to you.”
“What might have happened to me?”
He dismissed my question with a wave. “You’re much safer now, Miss Green, believe me.”
Anger welled up inside me. “But I don’t understand,” I said. “There was no need to scare me as you did. If I was in danger all you needed to do was explain that to me! To have me snatched off the street and a hood tied over my head was completely unnecessary.”
“I could have explained the danger to you, but you wouldn’t have listened to a word of it,” he replied. “Sometimes a sudden shock is needed.”
“Was there any genuine need to frighten me like that? Did your men really have to cover my face and head? I feared for my life!”
“The intention was to frighten you a little, Miss Green, as we needed you to comply. Had my men asked you politely you wouldn’t have come, would you?”
“I cannot say that I agree,” I spat. “Who are these men, anyway?” I gestured animatedly toward the pair standing impassively beside the fireplace. “Are they police officers?”
“Do calm down, Miss Green, we’re merely keeping you safe. You don’t stay in one place for long, do you? Yesterday you were hassling gang members at a pub in the East End, and how many people have you spoken to today? I counted at least four: Miss Holland, Mr Billington-Grieg, Mr Sheridan and Mr Chakravarty. And a visit to the reading room, too.”
“You’ve been following me,” I snarled. “How dare you!”
“Someone needed to keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t you have more important things to do than follow me around?”
“Oh, I didn’t do it personally, I have men to do that for me.”
I felt foolish to have been so preoccupied with my work all day that I hadn’t even noticed anyone following me.
“Whose side are you on?” I asked.
Chief Inspector Cullen laughed. “There’s no question of sides, Miss Green, I’m merely managing the rather difficult situation we have found ourselves in. Now that you’re here, everything will calm down a little. The situation has become rather out of hand in recent days.”