'Drive me all the way home to Dublin, Inspector,' he said.
'I wish that I could, Brendan, but the line doesn't go that far.'
'It won't go any farther than this, if the buggers have their way.'
'Do you know what their next step will be?' asked Colbeck.
'Yes, sir.'
'Well?'
'They want to bring the whole thing to a stop.'
'And how do they intend to do that?'
Mulryne told him what he had heard. While he knew the place where the attack would be launched, he did not know the precise time. That was a detail that was deliberately kept from him. What was certain was that he would definitely be involved.
'You obviously passed the test they set you,' said Colbeck.
'Tipping over a few wagons? It was child's play.'
'Not to the people who had to clear up after you.'
'Sure, I'd have been happy to do the job myself but that would have given the game away. If they weren't such hard-hearted villains,' said Mulryne, 'I'd have no quarrel with them. They're fellow Irishmen and that means they're the salt of the earth.'
'Do they have no suspicion of you at all?'
'None, sir, but they might start wondering if I don't join them for a drink very soon. I've made quite a bit of money from them, one way and another.' His face clouded. 'I suppose that'd be called the proceeds of crime. I won't have to hand it back, will I?'
'No, Brendan. It's yours to keep.'
'I never keep money, sir. It burns a hole in my pocket.'
'Then enjoy a drink with it,' said Colbeck. 'And, as soon as you know when they're going to strike, find a way to let me know.'
'That I will, Inspector.'
'Do you know who's paying them?'
'I don't know and I've never once tried to find out. I remembered what happened to Sergeant Leeming when he asked too many questions.' Mulryne pointed to his head. 'They think of me as a big man with a tiny brain. I'm stupid old Brendan who'll do anything for money and not worry where it comes from.'
'How many of them are there?'
'Difficult to say, sir. I've only met two.'
'There must be more than that, Brendan.'
'That's why you have to catch them in the act. The whole gang is going to be there next time. At least, that's what Liam told me.'
'Liam?'
'I'll introduce him to you when we meet,' said Mulryne.
'You'll be pleased to make his acquaintance.'
'Will I?'
'He's one of the men who ambushed the sergeant.'
'Ah, I see.'
'Liam boasted to me about it. I had a job to hold myself back from knocking his head off there and then. Sergeant Leeming is a friend of mine. When the fighting really starts, Liam is all mine.'
'Victor will be pleased to hear about it,' said Colbeck. 'Now, off you go, Brendan. Join the others before they start to miss you. And thank you again. You've done well.'
'I ought to be thanking you, sir.'
'Why?'
'Work with Irishmen all day and drink with them all night – this is heaven for me,' said Mulryne, happily. 'Yes, and there's a barmaid at the inn who's sweet on me. What more can a man ask?'
Colbeck waved him off then allowed himself a few minutes to inspect the locomotive more closely and to run a possessive hand over its levers and valves. He had recognised the design at once. It was the work of Thomas Crampton, the Englishmen whose locomotives were so popular in France. As he indulged his fancy, he wished that Caleb Andrews had been there to teach him how to drive it.
Descending at last from the footplate, he walked across the tracks and headed towards Brassey's office. Instead of his habitual long stride and upright posture, he used a slow amble and kept his shoulders hunched. Engine drivers did not look or move like elegant detectives. When success was so close, he did not wish to make a false move and attract suspicion. His talk with Mulryne had been very heartening and he was delighted that he had brought the Irishman with him. It was only a question of time before the problems at the site would be brought to an abrupt end. Colbeck wanted to pass on the good news to Brassey as soon as possible.
Reaching the office, he knocked on the door and opened it in response to the contractor's invitation. He had expected Brassey to be alone but someone else was there and it was the last person Colbeck had wanted to see. Superintendent Tallis gaped at him in wonder.
'Is that you, Colbeck?' he cried, staring in consternation. 'What are you doing, man? I sent you here to solve a crime, not to play with an engine.'
Madeleine Andrews had had a profitable time. It was one of the days when a servant came to clean the house and do various chores, thus releasing Madeleine to work on her latest drawing. She was not trying to sketch the Sankey Viaduct now. She was working on another sketch of the Lord of the Isles, the locomotive that Colbeck had taken her to see at the Great Exhibition the previous year. It had a special significance for her. When evening came, she kept glancing up at the clock, hoping that her father would not be too late.
When he went to work, Andrews always bought a morning newspaper at Euston Station. His daughter never got to read it until he came back home, and she was desperate for more news about Colbeck. If he had made any progress in the murder investigation, it would be duly reported. Madeleine was at the window when she saw her father sauntering along the street. He had made a good recovery from the injuries that had almost cost him his life, and he had his old jauntiness back. She opened the door for him and was disappointed that he was not carrying a newspaper.
'Did you have a good day, Father?' she asked.
'Yes,' he replied. 'I've been to Birmingham and back twice. I've driven along that line so often, I could do it blindfold.'
'Well, I hope you don't even try.'
'No, Maddy.' He took off his coat and hung it on a hook. 'The place looks clean and tidy,' he said. 'Mrs Busby obviously came.'
'Yes. I was able to get on with my own work.'
'How is she?'
'Still worried about her husband. He has a bad back.'
'At his age?' he said, disdainfully. 'Jim Busby must be ten or fifteen years younger than me. Bad backs are for old men.' He sniffed the air. 'I can smell food.'
'I'll get it in a moment, Father. I just wondered what happened to your newspaper today.'
'What? Oh, I must have forgotten to buy one.'
'You never forget,' she said. 'Reading a paper is an article of faith and you know how much I look forward to seeing it afterwards.'
'Then I suppose I mislaid it today. Sorry, Maddy.'
'Tell me the truth.'
'That is the truth. I left it somewhere by mistake.'
'I think that you did it on purpose.'
'Don't you believe your old father?' he asked with a look of injured innocence. 'I've been very busy today, girl. You can't expect me to remember everything.'
She folded her arms. 'What did it say?'
'Nothing of importance.'
'I know you too well. You're hiding something from me.'
'Why should I do that?'
'Because you're trying to spare my feelings,' she said. 'It's very kind of you but I don't need to be protected. They've said something nasty about Robert, haven't they?'
'I can't remember,' he replied, trying to move past her.
She held his arm. 'You're lying to me.'
'There was hardly a mention of him, Maddy.'
'But what did that mention say?'
She was determined to learn the worst. Caleb Andrews knew how much she loved Colbeck and he wanted to shield her from any adverse criticism of the detective. Having been the victim of a crime himself, he was aware how long it could take to bring the perpetrators to justice. Newspaper reporters had no patience. They needed dramatic headlines to attract their readers. Robert Colbeck had so far failed to provide them. He had paid the penalty.
'There was an article about him,' he admitted.
'Go on.'
'It was cruel. That's all you need to know.'
'What did it say about Robert? Tell me. I'll not be baulked.'
'I think that Inspector Colbeck has an enemy in Scotland Yard,' said Andrews. 'Someone who envies him so much that he's gone behind his back to feed a story to the newspapers.'
'What story?' she demanded.
'A spiteful one, Maddy. According to the article, the inspector has made such a mess of this case that Superintendent Tallis has gone to France to drag him back home in disgrace.'
Tallis spat out the name as if it were a type of venomous poison.
'Brendan Mulryne!' he exclaimed.
'Yes, sir,' confessed Colbeck.
'You dared to engage the services of Brendan Mulryne?'
'He was the ideal person for the task. When I lost Victor, I had to find someone who could blend more easily into the scene.'
'Oh, yes,' said Tallis, maliciously. 'Mulryne would blend in. He's the same as the rest of them – a wild, drunken, unruly Irishman who doesn't give two hoots for authority.'
'That's unduly harsh, Superintendent,' said Thomas Brassey. 'Most of my Irish navvies are a godsend to me. They do the sort of soul-destroying job that would kill the average man, yet they still manage to keep up their spirits. When I build a railway, they're always my first choice.'
Tallis was spiky. 'Well, I can assure you that Brendan Mulryne would never be my first choice. When we kicked him out of the police force, we should have put him in a menagerie where he belonged.'
The three men were still in Brassey's office. The confrontation with Edward Tallis was proving to be even more abrasive than usual. At the very moment Robert Colbeck's carefully laid plan was coming to fruition, his superior had turned up to throw it into jeopardy. What increased the inspector's discomfort was that his reprimand was delivered in front of Brassey. It made the contractor realise that he had been misled.
'I thought that Mulryne was a policeman,' he said.
'He was – at one time,' replied Colbeck.
'And he was a menace to us while he was there,' said Tallis. 'I'll spare you the full inventory of his peccadilloes, Mr Brassey, or we'd be here all night. Suffice it to say that the Metropolitan Police Force is run, like the army, on strict discipline. Brendan Mulryne does not know the meaning of the word.'
'He made several important arrests, sir.'
'Yes, Inspector. But he could not resist hitting his prisoners.'
'When he was in uniform,' Colbeck said, 'there was far less crime in the area he patrolled. Villains were too afraid of him.'
'I'm not surprised. He'd assault them first and ask questions afterwards. That's in blatant defiance of police procedure.'
'Why didn't you tell me all this, Inspector?' asked Brassey.
'Because I didn't feel that it was necessary for you to know, sir,' said Colbeck, awkwardly. 'For the last couple of weeks, this railway had been under siege. If these men were allowed to continue, they would bring this whole project crashing down. I believed that the one person who could save you was Brendan Mulryne and, after my conversation with him just now, I'm even more certain of it.'
'But he appears to be no more than a criminal himself.'
'He is,' agreed Tallis. 'I don't think he means to help us at all. Now that he's here, he's made common cause with the villains. He's an active part of the conspiracy against you. All that Inspector Colbeck has done is to add to your troubles.'
'That's unjust, sir!' Colbeck retaliated.
'Didn't you tell us that he'd wormed his way into their ranks?'
'Only to be able to betray them.'
'We are the ones who've been betrayed. You admitted that he's helped them to cause serious damage to railway property.'
'That was an essential part of his initiation.'
'Ruining those wagons is not what I'd call initiation, Inspector,' said Brassey, critically. 'It's straightforward vandalism.'
'He had to convince them that he could be trusted, Mr Brassey.'
'Well, I can't trust him – not any more.'
'Nor me,' said Tallis. 'I've learned from bitter experience that the only thing you can rely on Mulryne do to is to create mischief. You had no authority whatsoever to use the rogue, Inspector.'
'Desperate diseases call for desperate remedies,' said Colbeck.
'Mulryne is nothing short of an epidemic!'
'Give credit where it's due, Superintendent Tallis. The man you traduce so readily helped us to catch those responsible for the mail train robbery last year.'
'Yes,' said Tallis, sourly. 'That was another occasion when your methods were highly questionable. You had no right to involve that reprobate in police business.'
'The end justified the means.'
'Not in my estimation.'
'The commissioner disagreed,' said Colbeck, pointedly. 'He wanted to congratulate Mulryne in person. Are you telling me that the head of the Metropolitan Police Force was at fault?'
Tallis's face twitched. 'What I'm telling you is that this charade has got to stop,' he snapped. 'Mulryne must be arrested immediately with his accomplices.'
'But we don't know who they are, sir.'
'They'll be getting drunk with him right now.'
'In your position,' advised Brassey, 'I'd think again. Only a bold man would try to apprehend an Irish navvy when he's celebrating with his friends. I agree that he should be punished, Superintendent, but you have to choose the right moment.'
'Arresting him would be madness,' argued Colbeck. 'Besides, you have no jurisdiction in this country. When we catch the villains, we'll have to hand them over to the French police.'
'Mulryne will be one of them.'
'But he's our only hope of salvation.'
'That unholy barbarian?'
'I'm bound to share the superintendent's unease,' said Brassey.
'It's not unease,' declared Tallis. 'It's sheer horror.'
'All that he needs is a little time,' said Colbeck. 'What harm is there in giving him that? I'd stake every penny I have that Brendan Mulryne will do what's he paid to do – and by the way, sir,' he added, looking at Tallis, 'all his expenses have come out of my own pocket. That should show you how much faith I have in the man.'
'I admire your loyalty but deplore your judgement.'
Brassey shook his head. 'I have an open mind on all this.'
'Do you want this railway to be built?' Colbeck asked him.
'Of course.'
'Then trust a man who's risking his life to make sure that it is not crushed out of existence. Victor Leeming was out of his depth here and he got a beating for his pains. They couldn't punish Mulryne in the same way,' Colbeck told them. 'He's too big and strong. If they knew that he was about to betray them, they'd kill him outright.'
Brendan Mulryne was in his element. Having arrived late, he made up for lost time by ordering two drinks at a time. He was soon involved in the vigorous banter. Alive to any opportunities to make money, he performed a few feats of strength to win bets from some of the others then bought them a brandy apiece by way of consolation. The rowdy atmosphere was like a second home to him but he was not only there to revel with his friends. Every so often, he darted a glance at one of the barmaids, a buxom young woman with dark hair and a dimple in each cheek. Whenever she caught his eye, she smiled at him.
Towards the end of the evening, Liam Kilfoyle came over to him.
'Stay behind for a while, Brendan,' he said.
Mulryne chuckled. 'Oh, I intend to, Liam, I promise you.'
'Pierce would like a word.'
'As long as it's a short one.'
'He was pleased with the way you tipped over those wagons.'
'Ah, I could have done that on my own without you two pulling on that rope as if you were in a tug-o'-war contest. I like a challenge.'
'You've got one of those coming up, Brendan.'
'When?'
'Pierce will tell you – but not in here.'
Shannon was talking to some friends in
a corner, but he had kept an eye on Mulryne throughout the evening as if weighing him in the balance. He wished that he had known the newcomer much longer so that he could be absolutely certain about him but there was no time to spare. The surprise visit of his paymaster had acted as a stimulus. The final attack was at hand. He had other men to help him but none with Mulryne's extraordinary strength. Shannon knew a way to put that strength to good use.
When the bar started to clear, the giant Irishman made sure that he had a brief exchange with the barmaid. He spoke no French and she knew very little English but they understood each other well. Mulryne gave her a wink to seal their bargain. Her dimples were deeper and more expressive than ever. He was by no means the only man to take an interest in her but none of the others could compete. She had made her choice. At length, only the stragglers remained and the landlord began to close up the bar. Mulryne was among the last to leave and he walked away very slowly.
When Shannon and Kilfoyle fell in beside him, he put a friendly arm around each of them and gave a playful squeeze.
'Steady on, Brendan,' said Kilfoyle. 'You'll break my shoulder.'
'I was as gentle as a lamb,' claimed Mulryne.
'You don't know how to be gentle.'
'Oh, yes, I do.'
'Keep yourself more sober tomorrow,' ordered Shannon.
'I am sober.'
'I saw how much you drank tonight, Brendan.'
'Then you should have noticed something else,' said Mulryne. 'The more I had, the less drunk I became. It's weak men who fall into a stupor. I've learned to hold my drink.'
'You'll need a clear head.'
'My head is clear, Pierce.'
'I'm giving you an order,' said the other. 'If you don't want to obey it, we'll find someone else.'
'No, no,' said Mulryne, quickly. 'I'm your man. If there's money to be made – real money this time – I won't touch more than a drop tomorrow. I swear it. Is that when it's going to be?'
'Yes.'
'At what time?'
'As soon as it gets dark,' said Shannon.
'I'll be ready.'
'So will I,' said Kilfoyle. 'I've been waiting to escape from this shit hole for weeks. Now, I'll finally get my chance.'
The railway viaduct irc-3 Page 17