'We all will, Liam,' said Shannon.
'This time tomorrow, I'll be rich.'
'Only if you do as you're told.'
'Thank the Lord that it is tomorrow,' said Mulryne, coming to a sharp halt. The others stopped beside. 'Had it been tonight, I'm afraid, I'd not have been able to oblige you.'
'Why not?' asked Shannon.
'You're with us now,' added Kilfoyle.
'Not tonight.'
'Why have we stopped?'
'Because I have other plans. I thought I might take a stroll in the moonlight. It looks like a perfect night for it.' He beamed at them. 'Good night, lads.'
Brendan Mulryne turned around and began to walk back towards the inn. As he did so, the barmaid came out of the front door and ran on the tip of her toes until his huge arms enveloped her. After a first kiss, the two of them then faded quietly into the shadows. Mulryne was determined to make the most of his visit to France.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Robert Colbeck never enjoyed having to spend a night under the same roof as Edward Tallis; he did not find it an uplifting experience. He slept fitfully, tormented by the thought that the whole investigation could be endangered by the precipitate action of his superior. The arrival of the superintendent could not have come at a worse time. It had taken Colbeck by surprise and undermined his position completely. It had also exposed the ambiguous involvement of Brendan Mulryne in the exercise, thereby alarming Thomas Brassey and driving Tallis into a rage that three consecutive cigars had failed to soften. It was doubtful if a night's sleep would improve the superintendent's temper.
When he came down for breakfast in the cottage where they were both staying, Colbeck did not even know if he was still employed in the Detective Department at Scotland Yard. Tallis had made all sorts of veiled threats without actually dismissing him. Colbeck's career was definitely in the balance. As they sat opposite each other at the table, there was a distinct tension in the air. It was Tallis who eventually broke it.
'I think that we should cut our losses and withdraw,' he said.
'That would be a ruinous course of action, sir,' protested Colbeck. 'Having come so far, why pull out now?'
'Because the investigation has not been run properly.'
'We are on the point of capturing the villains.'
'One of whom is Brendan Mulryne.'
'No, Superintendent. He is working for us.'
'He's not working for me,' said Tallis, angrily, 'and he never will. Setting a thief to catch a thief has never seemed to me to be wise advice. A criminal will always have more affinity with criminals than with those trying to catch them. We have a perfect example of that here. Instead of working as an informer, Mulryne has sided with his natural allies because the rewards are greater.'
'You malign him, sir.'
'I know him of old.'
'And so do I,' said Colbeck. 'That's why I picked him.'
'A singularly unfortunate choice.'
'You would not think that if you'd spoken to him yesterday.'
Tallis scowled. 'Nothing on God's earth would persuade me to dress up as an engine driver in order to converse with a man who was drummed out of the police force for using excessive violence. And that was only one of his glaring defects. You've had successes in the past, Colbeck,' he went on, chewing his food noisily, 'but this time, you have bungled everything.'
'I resent that, sir.'
'And I resent your attempt to deceive me with regard to the use of that incorrigible Irishman, Mulryne.'
'This railway line is being built by incorrigible Irishmen. Only someone like Mulryne could mix easily with them. He's done everything I asked of him.'
'You mean that you incited him to commit a crime?'
'No, sir.'
'Then how much licence did you grant him?'
'I told him to do whatever was necessary.'
'Even if that entailed wrecking a number of wagons?'
'It worked, sir,' insisted Colbeck. 'Don't you realise that? He's now part of their gang. Brendan Mulryne is in a unique position.'
'Yes, he can inflict even more damage on the railway.'
'He can bring the vandalism to an end.'
'He's much more likely to increase it. The kindest thing we can do for Mr Brassey is to haul Mulryne out of France altogether and take him back to whatever squalid hovel he lives in.'
'We must allow him to finish his work.'
'It is finished – as from today.'
'Even Mr Brassey thought that we should wait.'
'He's a contractor,' said Tallis, finishing his cup of coffee, 'not a policeman. He doesn't understand the way that a criminal mind works. I do. Brassey still finds it difficult to believe that he could be employing callous villains on this project.'
'That's because he has a paternal attitude towards his men, sir. Because he treats them so well, he cannot accept that they would betray him. Thomas Brassey is famed for the care he shows to anyone he employs,' said Colbeck, 'and you must bear in mind that, at any one time, he could have as many as 80,000 men on his books. If any one of them finds a particular job too onerous, Mr Brassey will not simply dismiss him. He's more likely to assign him to an easier task. That's how considerate and benevolent he is. It's the reason his men think so highly of him.'
'The law of averages comes into play here. In every thousand good men, you are bound to have a tiny minority of blackguards. Some of them are employed here,' Tallis continued, 'and they think so highly of the benevolent Brassey that they're prepared to do anything to stop this railway from being built. I'm sorry, Inspector. You may admire the way that he operates,' he said, dismissively, 'but I think that Brassey is too naive.'
'He's a shrewd and hard-headed businessman, sir. You do not achieve his extraordinary level of success by being naive.'
'If he has problems here, it is up to him to sort them out.'
'But there is a direct link with the murder of Gaston Chabal.'
'So you keep telling me,' said Tallis, 'but we will not find it by unleashing Mulryne on this railway. All that he will do is to muddy the waters even more.'
'Give him time,' implored Colbeck.
'We are returning to England today.'
'But that would leave Mr Brassey in the lurch.'
'He can call in the French police.'
'Then we'll never find the man who killed Chabal.'
'Yes, we will,' said Tallis. 'If we hunt for him in the country where he resides – England.'
Further argument was curtailed. Tallis got up from the table and stalked off to his room to collect his bag. Colbeck thanked the farmer's wife who had given them such a tasty breakfast and paid her for accommodating them. It was not long before he and Tallis were on their way to the site to take their leave of Thomas Brassey. During the drive, Colbeck made repeated attempts to persuade Tallis to change his mind but the superintendent was adamant. Activities in France had to be brought to an immediate halt. As a courtesy to the contractor, Tallis undertook to explain to him why.
Colbeck was faced with a dilemma. If he wanted to remain as a detective, he had to obey orders and return to London. If, however, he wanted to pick up a trail that led eventually to the killer, he had to remain in France until the information came to light. He was still wrestling with the dilemma when they arrived. Alighting from the trap, they walked towards Brassey's office. Before they could knock on the door, however, it was opened for them. The contractor had seen them through the window.
'I'm glad that you came, Inspector,' he said. 'She'll speak to nobody but you.'
'She?' said Colbeck.
'A young Frenchwoman. She seems quite agitated.'
'Then I'll talk to her at once.'
Colbeck went into the office and closed the door behind him. Tallis was annoyed at being left outside but he took the opportunity to explain to Brassey why they would be leaving the country that very day. Colbeck, meanwhile, was introducing himself to the barmaid from the village inn, who had befriended Mul
ryne and spent some of the previous night with him. Because they had got on so well, she had been entrusted with an important message but she would not pass it on until she was convinced that she was speaking to Inspector Robert Colbeck. Only when he had shown her identification, and explained that he was a good friend of Brendan Mulryne, did she trust him.
'Cette nuit,' she said.
'Vous etes certaine, mademoiselle?'
'Oui.'
'Merci. Merci beaucoup.'
Colbeck was so delighted that he wanted to kiss her.
Luke Rogan knew where to find him that late in the day. Sir Marcus Hetherington was at his club, whiling away the evening by conversing with friends about the merits of certain racehorses on which they intended to place a wager. When the steward brought him Rogan's card, Sir Marcus detached himself from the group and retired to a quiet corner to receive his visitor. After crossing the Channel again when the waves were choppy, Rogan was looking distinctly unwell. He refused the offer of a whisky, vowing to touch neither food nor drink until his stomach had settled down. He lowered himself gingerly into a chair beside Sir Marcus.
'Well?' said the old man.
'It was as I told you, Sir Marcus – no need to fear.'
'You saw the men?'
'I spoke to their leader.'
'What did he tell you?'
When Rogan repeated the list of incidents that had occurred on the railway line, Sir Marcus gave a smile of satisfaction. His money had not, after all, been squandered. He now understood why none of the destruction that had been wrought had been reported in the French newspapers.
'This is all very gratifying,' he said.
'To you, Sir Marcus, but not to me.'
'What are you talking about?'
'Taking that boat when the waves were so high,' said Rogan, holding his stomach. 'It fair upset me, Sir Marcus. I feel ill. I went all that way to find out something that I knew already. You should have trusted me.'
'I trust you – but not your friends.'
'Oh, they're not friends of mine.'
'Then what are they?'
'I'd call them the scum of the earth,' said Rogan with a sneer, 'and the only reason I employ them is that I can rely on them to do what they're told. Pay them well and they do your bidding. But you'd never want to call any of them a friend, Sir Marcus. They're ruffians.'
'Even ruffians have their uses at times.'
'Once this is over, I wash my hands of them.'
'That brings us to the crux of the matter,' said Sir Marcus.
'When will this finally be over? What they have accomplished so far is a series of delays and I willingly applaud them for that. Delays, however, are mere irritations to a man like Brassey. He's indomitable. He'll shrug off temporary setbacks and press on regardless. When are your friends – your hired ruffians, I should say – going to make it impossible for him to carry on?'
'Soon.'
'How soon?'
'Within a day or two, Sir Marcus,' said Rogan, confidently. 'That's what I was told. They're going to make one last strike before getting away from the site for good.'
'One last strike?'
'It will be much more than a simple delay.'
'Why?'
'They're going to burn down Mr Brassey's office and destroy all the surveys that people like Gaston Chabal prepared for him. Without anything to guide them, they simply won't be able to go on with the work. But there's more, Sir Marcus,' said Rogan, grinning wolfishly, 'and it will give them the biggest headache of all.'
'Go on.'
'They're going to steal the big safe from the office. It not only contains valuable documents that cannot be replaced, it holds all the money to pay the navvies.'
'So they'll get no wages,' said Sir Marcus, slapping his knees in appreciation. 'By George, this is capital!'
'No money and thousands of angry men to face.'
'Come pay day and Brassey will have a veritable riot on his hands. I take back all I said, Rogan,' the old man added with a condescending smile. 'I should never have doubted your ability to pick the right men for the job. Ruffians or not, these fellows deserve a medal. They'll have brought the whole enterprise to a juddering halt.'
There were five of them in all. One of them, Gerald Murphy, was employed as a nightwatchman so he was able to tell them exactly where his colleagues were placed and how best to avoid them. Another man, Tim Dowd, drove one of the carts that took supplies to various parts of the site. Pierce Shannon, Liam Kilfoyle and Brendan Mulryne completed the gang. When they slipped out of the inn after dark, their leader noted that someone was missing.
'Where's Brendan?' he said.
'Saying farewell to his lady love,' replied Kilfoyle with a snigger. 'He's probably telling her that he'll see her later when, in fact, he'll be on the run with the rest of us.'
'Go and fetch him, Liam.'
'Never come between a man and his colleen.'
'Then I'll get the bastard.'
Shannon turned on his heel but he did not have to go back into the building. Mulryne was already walking towards him, still savouring the long, succulent kiss that he had just been given in the privacy of the cellar. He beamed at the others.
'Ah, isn't love a wonderful thing?' he announced.
'Not if it holds us up,' said Shannon, brusquely. 'Forget about her, Brendan. After tonight, you'll have enough money to buy yourself any pair of tits you take a fancy to.'
'I'm sorry, Pierce. What must I do?'
'Shut up and listen.'
Keeping his voice low, Shannon gave them their orders. Murphy was to act as their lookout and he rehearsed a whistle he would give them by way of a warning. Dowd was to bring his horse and cart to the rear of Brassey's office. Kilfoyle was charged with the task of creating a diversion by burning down Aubrey Filton's office. When all the attention was fixed on that, Shannon himself would start a fire in the contractor's office.
Mulryne was baffled. 'What do I do, Pierce?' he asked.
'The most difficult job of all,' said Shannon.
'And what's that?'
'Lifting the safe on to the wheelbarrow that Tim will bring.'
'Oh, that's easily done.'
'It won't be,' warned Kilfoyle. 'I've seen it. That safe will be a ton weight, Brendan.'
'I'll manage it,' boasted Mulryne. 'If it's full of money, I'll make sure that I do. Though it'd be a lot bleeding quicker if we blow open the safe there and then. We can just grab the money and run.'
'That's too dangerous,' said Shannon. 'You can't control an explosion. Besides, we've no more gunpowder left. It's far better to steal the fucking safe and take it away on the cart. By the time they discover it's gone, we'll be miles away.'
'Counting out our share of the money,' said Kilfoyle.
'I'll do that, Liam. You only get what I give you.'
'That's fair,' agreed Mulryne. 'Pierce has done all the hard work, planning everything. It's only right that he should get a little more than the rest of us.'
Shannon looked around them. 'Are we all ready, lads?'
'Yes,' they replied in unison.
'Then let's kill this fucking railway line once and for all!'
Robert Colbeck had been rescued at the last moment. The information passed on by the French barmaid had persuaded Superintendent Tallis to stay for one more day. He accepted that it might, after all, be possible to catch the men who had caused so much disruption on the railway and, in doing so, discover who their English paymaster was. Along with Thomas Brassey and a group of his most trusted men, Tallis was in hiding not far from the contractor's office. All but Brassey were armed with cudgels or guns. Nobody expected that the Irishmen would give up without a fight.
Determined to be at the heart of the action, Colbeck had put on an old coat and hat so that he could replace the nightwatchman who normally patrolled the area. He carried a lantern in one hand and a stout wooden club in the other. He followed the identical routine as his predecessor so that it would look as if
the same man were on duty. When the raid came, he knew, it would take place when he was at the farthest point from the designated target. The first hint of trouble came when he heard a horse and cart approaching. At that time of night, all the drivers should have been fast asleep while their horses were resting in their makeshift stables. Pretending to hear nothing, Colbeck turned away from Brassey's office and began a long, slow, methodical walk to the edge of the camp.
The attack was imminent. He sensed it. As soon as he reached the outer limit of his patrol, therefore, he did not amble back at the same pace. Blowing out his lantern, he ran back towards the office in the dark. Colbeck did not want to miss out on the action.
Everything seemed to have gone to plan. Murphy's whistle told them that the nightwatchman was some distance away from the office. Dowd's horse and cart were in position and he had trundled the wheelbarrow up to the others. Shannon gave the signal, smacking Kilfoyle on the back so that the latter went off to stand by Filton's office, then leading Mulryne and Dowd towards their target. The door of the office had two padlocks on it but Shannon soon disposed of them with his jemmy, levering them off within seconds before prising the door open. Holding a lantern, he went across to the safe. Mulryne followed and Dowd came in with the wheelbarrow.
'Jesus!' said Dowd when he saw the size of the safe. 'I'll never be able to wheel that bloody thing away.'
'Leave it to Brendan,' said Shannon. 'That's why he's here.'
Mulryne bent down and got a firm grip on the safe. When he felt its weight, he lifted it an inch off the floor before putting it down again. He spat on both hands then rubbed them together.
'This is not really heavy,' he boasted. 'Hold up that lantern, will you, Pierce? I need all the light I can get.'
Shannon responded, lifting the lantern up until his whole face was illumined. Mulryne seized his moment. Pulling back his arm, he threw a fearsome punch that connected with Shannon's chin and sent him reeling back. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. Coming into the office, Colbeck had to step over the body. It took Dowd only a moment to realise that they had been duped. Escape was essential. Running at Colbeck, he tried to buffet him aside but the detective was ready for him. He dodged the blow and used his club to jab the man in the stomach. As he doubled up, Colbeck hit him in the face and made him stagger backwards into Mulryne's bear hug.
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