‘I knew you’d like it,’ Davina said, clearly sensing Tayte’s excitement.
Tayte’s eyes dropped to the message section, and he read it aloud with great interest, taking his time over the words. ‘To: Frank Saxby. Notebook in care of Ms Phoebe Dodson.’ It gave an address in Charlesbourg, Quebec City, and a sender’s name that sent a tingle running through him. ‘Albrecht,’ he said, narrowing his eyes.
‘Does the name mean anything to you?’
Tayte reached down beside the bench and pulled his briefcase up onto his lap. ‘Yes, it does. At least, I’ve seen it before.’ He pulled several documents out and began rifling through them. ‘Here it is.’ He showed Davina. It was the extract from the first-class cabin allocations Emile Girard had given him, showing which cabin Alice’s husband Henry was in and whom he was sharing it with.
‘Mr W. Albrecht,’ Davina said with a raised brow. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Right now, I don’t know, but it has to mean something. The man sharing a cabin with Alice’s husband sent this telegram to Frank Saxby soon after the Empress of Ireland departed Quebec.’
‘So, Alice wasn’t sharing a cabin with her husband?’
‘No, and I’ve thought that odd since I first checked the passenger lists and saw that Alice wasn’t even in first class. She was travelling on the deck below in second.’
‘That is odd. I wonder who Phoebe Dodson is.’
Tayte had been wondering that, too, and he thought the address in Quebec City was telling. Alice had fled England at the beginning of the month, so it stood to reason that she had been staying somewhere local until her planned return at the end of that month.
‘Perhaps Phoebe Dodson gave Alice lodgings while she was in Quebec,’ Tayte said. ‘Maybe she was a friend or family member, or just the owner of a boarding house where Alice sought refuge before her journey back to England. That’s if she has anything to do with Alice at all.’
Tayte thought about the message that had been sent in the telegram, and he wondered whether it was in some way connected with his earlier supposition that something had to have happened to change Alice’s intended plans after the ship set out for Liverpool—besides the ship’s unpredictable sinking. He read Frank Saxby’s name again and took Davina’s photograph out from his briefcase to take another look at him, wondering how this friend of the family and one-time business partner of Oscar Scanlon could be involved. Right now the potential reasons seemed boundless. He went back to the telegram and read the message again, focusing now on the notebook it mentioned as he tried to figure out why it was so important to Frank Saxby that he should get a telegram about it from the Empress at such a late hour.
‘Have you seen this telegram before?’ Tayte asked. ‘Do you have any idea how your husband came by it?’
Davina shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never seen it, and I can only imagine it must have been handed down through Lionel’s family for some reason—it’s hardly the kind of thing you just come across, is it? Perhaps Oscar Scanlon got it from Frank Saxby at one time or another.’
Tayte agreed that it seemed a likely explanation, but why? He voiced his thoughts. ‘Why did Oscar Scanlon want it at all? And why bother to hand something like that down through the family? It’s not your typical heirloom.’ Just the same, he would have thought the telegram harmless enough were it not for the fact that it had belonged to a man who had recently been murdered, and it clearly held some importance to Lionel Scanlon, or why else keep it?
‘I don’t know,’ Davina said, ‘but do you think it’s possible that whoever killed Lionel was after the notebook it mentions? Maybe his killer thought my husband had it.’
‘I wouldn’t rule it out,’ Tayte said, thinking about the police investigation and wondering whether the notebook could be the connection he was looking for. ‘We know that whoever did kill your husband is looking for something. Why else go over your properties like that?’
They both sat back with their thoughts and their wine, Tayte contemplating this new discovery and its possible implications, thinking that further research into Frank Saxby was now a high priority. Davina, it was soon apparent, was thinking about something else entirely.
She reached for the wine bottle. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ she asked as she topped up their glasses.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Tayte began, but Davina cut him short before he had the chance to raise an objection.
‘Surely the idea of a bit of company and a home-cooked meal is more appealing than eating alone at the Holiday Inn?’
Tayte couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t try to. He began to wonder whether there was something wrong with him—why couldn’t he just relax around people and fit in? He knew he had to take control of that if his relationship with Jean was to have any future. He laughed at himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you ask me that again.’
‘Okay.’ Davina repositioned herself on the bench as if she’d just sat down. Then turning to Tayte, she said, ‘Would you like to stay for dinner this evening?’
Tayte laughed again. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Dinner would be great.’
‘Perfect. Actually, I do have an ulterior motive for asking you. I thought we could crack on with the research together.’ She took Tayte’s wine glass from him and set it down with hers on the table. ‘Shall we go inside and get your laptop out? You said you had several lines to follow. Where do you want to start?’
‘With Archibald Ashcroft. He’s been on my mind since I visited with the Ashcroft family this morning.’
That the young naval officer was somehow involved with Alice in her hour of need seemed only logical to Tayte, given what he’d learned. He also thought that Alice might have needed help to evade the authorities, and who better to turn to than her childhood friend, whom for all Tayte knew, given his connection to the Admiralty, was already deeply involved in her plight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Saturday, 2 May 1914.
At seven thirty in the evening on the day Alice Stilwell fled Hamberley, she was sitting at a small oak table in a dimly lit corner of the Three Gardeners public house in North Street, Strood, which was just across the River Medway to the north of Rochester. It was a lively place, but not so busy that she couldn’t see who was coming and going. She thought most of the patrons were regulars because everyone seemed to know everyone else, and now and then someone would look over at her as if to ask who the stranger was. She hadn’t given much thought to it before now, but she supposed she was an odd sight to be sitting in a public house unaccompanied. She felt suddenly self-conscious and nervous enough to set her fingers tapping on the table. She caught another man’s eye then. He was staring at her from the bar, and she turned away, wishing that Archie would soon arrive.
Not knowing whom else to turn to, Alice had taken a motor-taxi straight to Archie’s address in South Gillingham, but he wasn’t home. ‘Not back from London,’ his mother had said as she invited Alice in to wait. But supposing those now after her would second guess she would go to Archie, she had declined. Instead, she had left an urgent and cryptic message, asking that Archie meet her as soon as possible at the place where they’d had their first proper drink together, knowing that Archie would easily remember how they had once sneaked off to the Three Gardeners when they were younger, not daring to do so locally in case anyone recognised them.
Alice had a glass of vermouth in front of her, just as she had back then. She had almost finished it by the time Archie walked in, still in his uniform and with an eager expression on his face as he looked around for her.
‘I came as soon as I got your message,’ he said. ‘What’s that you’re drinking?’
Alice told him, and a few minutes later he came back from the bar with a fresh vermouth for her and a pint of bitter for himself. He set them down and lowered himself into the chair opposite her.
‘
What’s happened, Alice? Perhaps if you opened up to me more, I could help.’
‘I will, Archie. I’ll tell you everything,’ Alice said, glad to have someone to tell at last, hoping that by doing so she would find some degree of relief from the anxiety she had kept locked inside her all this time.
Over their drinks, Alice explained everything that had happened, saying how Henry and her children had been abducted in Holland, and about the Dutchman and how Chester had been poisoned. She told him all about the spying she had been forced to do before coming to him for his help in getting the photographs Raskin wanted. She paused at that point, and from her travel bag she showed Archie that she still had the camera, letting him know that she now had no intention of handing the film over.
‘I suppose someone must have followed me home after one of my tasks on the South Coast,’ she said. ‘They must have been watching Hamberley after that, and then they followed me to London. I’m scared, Archie.’
Archie placed a hand on hers to comfort her. ‘Of course you are, Alice, but try not to worry. I’m here now. I’ll see you’re all right.’ He withdrew his hand again. ‘Actually, I’m surprised I’ve not been arrested by now. Whoever followed you must have seen me bring those plans to you.’
‘I’m sure,’ Alice said. Then she told him what had become of the man who had followed her, bringing him up to date with everything that had happened since they’d parted company outside Green Park, including how she had uncovered Frank Saxby when she found his encrypted address book.
Archie went quiet for several seconds, then said, ‘So, everything you told me when I collected you from the railway station the other night—that was all lies?’
He made it sound as cold as it really was, and Alice didn’t know what to say.
‘I thought it was rather too good to be true,’ Archie continued, ‘Still, I suppose I must have wanted to believe you.’
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me, Archie, but I am sorry. Really I am.’
‘ “Sorry” doesn’t really cut it, does it?’ he said, turning away.
‘Archie, please don’t turn your back on me. I know I don’t deserve your help, but I’ve no one else to go to.’
Silence fell between them, and Alice sensed that Archie was considering the matter. A moment later he turned back to her, took a big gulp of his drink, and said, ‘I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, Alice, but I can hardly leave you to the wolves in your hour of need, can I?’ He forced a half smile. ‘Now we’d better keep moving forwards. This is serious business. Any delay could prove disastrous.’
Alice gave a solemn nod, thinking it was as well that she had married Henry and not Archie, because she knew now that she didn’t deserve a man like Archie. She finished her drink and moved the conversation forward as Archie had suggested.
‘Looking at it now,’ she said, ‘I suppose Frank Saxby was well placed to set all this up.’
‘He’s a scoundrel of the highest order,’ Archie said. ‘Just say the word, and I’ll box his ears for you.’
Alice placed a hand on his. ‘No, Archie, it’s much more complicated than that.’
‘Then you’ll have to turn yourself in and tell the authorities everything you’ve just told me. They’ll soon break Saxby down, and they’ll see how you were forced to do these things. I’m implicated now, too. I’ll come along and face the music with you. You won’t be alone.’
Alice smiled kindly at him. ‘You’re very sweet, Archie. But I’ve given that a lot of thought, and I can’t do it. You see, Frank Saxby is just a part of a much bigger network. It’s too dangerous, for Henry and the children, and besides, who would believe me if Saxby didn’t confess?’
‘Then what do you propose to do?’
Alice produced Saxby’s notebook from her coat, which was on the back of her chair. ‘I’m going to use this to bargain with.’
Archie flicked through it with a puzzled expression on his face.
‘It’s all in code, but I can read it,’ Alice said. ‘For all I know, it could be an address book with the contact details of all the spies operating in the Southeast of England.’
‘Then you’ll need some time,’ Archie said. ‘And you’ll have to get out of the country, for a while at least. I’ve heard a thing or two about these Special Branch detectives and about the Secret Service Bureau they collaborate with in these matters. They won’t stop until they’ve caught up with you, especially since you say one of their number has been murdered. Have you got your passport document?’
Alice nodded. ‘But where shall I go?’
‘I know somewhere safe. We’ll check you into a hotel or a guesthouse for the night, and I’ll call for you in the morning.’
‘I can’t ask you to get any more involved in this, Archie.’
‘Look, Alice, I said if you were in trouble I was your man, and I meant it. Do you have paper and a pencil?’
Alice did. She gave him her notebook, and he began to write.
‘We’ll go for that long drive you promised I could take you on,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take you to Liverpool, where you can board a steamship for Canada.’
‘Canada?’
Archie nodded and showed her what he’d written. It was an address in Quebec.
‘Who lives there?’ Alice asked.
‘Long story, but in a nutshell, it’s my sister, Phoebe.’
Alice looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you had a sister called Phoebe. You’ve never mentioned her.’
‘No, well I wasn’t allowed to. No one in the family was supposed to talk about her. I only found out she existed myself a few years ago.’
‘But why?’ Alice asked. ‘Why wasn’t anyone supposed to talk about her?’
Archie scoffed. ‘To avoid a scandal. That’s what I was told. You see, Phoebe’s really my half-sister. Her surname’s Dodson. Same father, different mothers.’
‘I see.’
Archie nodded. ‘Precisely. Quite an indiscretion on my father’s part. I don’t know the full story, but I did want to know my half-sister, so I found out where she and her mother lived, and I went to see them.’
‘And they won’t mind me just turning up?’
‘No,’ Archie said, shaking his head as though there was no question about it. ‘We’ve kept in close contact. Phoebe’s heard so much about you already, you’ll be just like old friends when you meet.’ He laughed to himself. ‘For heaven’s sake don’t tell her everything about me, will you?’
Alice could only manage the slightest of smiles in return. ‘I shall simply tell her what a wonderful man you are and leave it at that,’ she said. ‘But what about Chester and Charlotte? I can’t leave them behind.’
‘You have to, Alice—for now at least. You’ll be caught for sure if you try to go back for them. Don’t worry. I’ll see no harm comes to them. Besides, I shouldn’t think Saxby or any of his cronies will make a move while you’ve got that notebook of his. You’ll have to make a copy. Then once Henry’s safe, let Saxby know you’ll use it if he doesn’t leave you and your family alone.’ Archie paused to finish his bitter. ‘You know, you should use it anyway once everyone’s safe. Bring the scoundrel to justice and the whole spy ring down like a house of cards.’
‘I aim to,’ Alice said, ‘but first things first.’
‘Yes, of course. Have you eaten? Would you like to?’
‘No, thank you. I’m not hungry.’
‘No, of course not,’ Archie said. ‘Silly of me to suppose you were.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, let’s find you somewhere to stay.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sunday, 3 May 1914.
They left for Liverpool early the next morning, following a 1910 publication of the Duckham’s Motor Map of England and Wales. It was a bright start to the day, but Archie kept the Vauxhall’s top up until they were twenty or so miles clear of London,
heading northwest through Hertfordshire, to give them better cover until they were well on their way. From then on, they had the sun on their faces and the wind in their hair as mile after mile of open countryside sped past them. They had their coats on to keep warm as it was still cold for the time of year, and Archie had thoughtfully brought along some provisions and a blanket for Alice, together with one of his mother’s silk scarves, which she wrapped over her head and tied beneath her chin.
Not wanting to lose any more time than was necessary, they stopped only to refuel from the petrol cans Archie had brought with them for the journey. Towns and villages came and went with the hours that passed in conversation, which largely concerned their years growing up together. It was a welcome escape for Alice. They had to raise their voices to hear one another over the beat of the exhaust and the engine tappet noise combined with the buffeting wind, but Alice knew that despite her circumstances, or perhaps because of them, she had not felt so at ease in a long time. When they weren’t talking, Archie would turn to her every now and then and throw her a dimpled smile as if to suggest he was having the time of his life.
By mid-afternoon they were in Staffordshire, and Archie suddenly shifted gear and put his foot down. The Hele-Shaw multi-plate clutch hissed as it engaged, and the acceleration came as a shock to Alice, causing her to clutch at the air in front of her as she tried to hold on to something.
Archie eyed her with a wide grin. ‘I’ve had her up to sixty-five miles an hour before now.’ A moment later he eased off, and the car began to slow down again. ‘Perhaps not today, though, eh? We’ve got almost a hundred miles still to go. Better not push her too hard.’
They passed through Stafford and were in open countryside again, where there were few other motorcars to be seen among the usual horse drawn conveyances they passed. A few miles on, Alice became concerned about one other car in particular that she thought she’d seen before, some twenty miles back, which she had now seen twice since leaving Stafford.
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