Avery & Blake 02 - The Infidel Stain (41 page)

McDouall started. Neesom removed his spectacles and began slowly to polish them with the bottom of his shirt.

‘Why should we believe you? For all we know you’re just a cat’s paw for the bluebottles yourself.’

‘I could be, but I’m not. Your membership is riddled with informers, Neesom. The coppers who knocked me about could talk about little else but your plot – wanted to steer me off Wedderburn and his friends, keep it quiet lest it rouse anger among the poor and they rise with you.’

‘That is what you have for me, the whisperings of a few blue bastards?’

‘And a long story from a police nose in fear of his life.’

Neesom bent forward.

‘They are coming for you, Neesom. This time it may go harder with you.’

‘Harder?’

‘I read the papers. January 1840, the
Morning Herald
. You, Williams and Beniofsky. Arrested for conspiracy.’

‘You’ll know then that the charges were all dropped.’

‘And this time?’

‘Who’s the nose?’ Neesom said. ‘Harney?’

‘No.’

‘Who then? O’Toole?’

Blake said nothing.

‘And they are determined to get us?’

‘As far as I know they’ve just informers’ confessions and they don’t want to admit to how many informers they have. I reckon you can get out of this. But if there is evidence, you’ll have to give them a sop: a few pikes in the back room of the Mulberry Bush tavern and someone willing to go down for a few months. As for noses, I daresay there’s more than one.’

‘Why’d you tell us? You are not, as you said, a joiner.’

‘I believe in the suffrage. But the city’ll never rise for you, and it seems to me you are playing into the hands of the authorities. If the winter is as hard as it promises to be, you’ll have a good few more members by the end of it and next spring you’ll have a bigger petition for Parliament.’

‘There’ll be a few more blameless creatures dead of cold and
starvation too. As for petitions, in May we collected over 1,300,000 signatures to petition parliament to pardon the Newport rebels. 1,300,000! More signatures than for our first petition in 1839. More than anyone has ever collected for anything! It took eight masons to carry it from the Old Bailey to Westminster. There was a debate in the Commons, and you know the outcome: the vote was equal, fifty-eight to fifty-eight. The Speaker, damn him, voted against. No reprieve. We have abided by the rules. We have shown what the people in this country want,’ Neesom said drily. ‘Those in power do their best to frustrate us. A few of the Tories toyed with us, but they have since concluded we are the great danger of the age. And all around we see great need and great hunger. Only force can now bring what we want.’ He replaced his spectacles, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

‘What reason do you have to watch me?’ said Blake.

‘Wanted to know why the bluebottles were so keen to keep an eye on you,’ said Neesom.

Blake shook his head. ‘Dr McDouall?’

The man remained silent.

‘Why are they so certain Wedderburn and the others were connected to your conspiracy?’ Blake said impatiently.

‘I don’t know,’ Neesom answered. ‘I swear it. Maybe they do believe that if there’s a fuss about their deaths it will start riots.’

‘Perhaps you don’t want the murderer found because you can use their deaths to do just that. You are looking to raise the city. What could be more certain to make people angry than the discovery that the authorities care so little for them, they allow murderers to roam free, and innocent men’s deaths to go unavenged? If you chose, you could have the story echoing in every tavern in London, and yet you’ve chosen to keep a lid on it. Until it suits you, perhaps?’

‘No. I’ll tell you what I know – though it’s just rumours and whispers. People say that the blue bastards want the murders forgot. They have been doing their best to quieten talk and hush those with notions. Among the notions are ones you’ll have heard: that Woundy and Wedderburn blackmailed someone who took his revenge sharp and nasty, like. And that there was an old quarrel between them and us and we killed them. I deny that.’

‘You knew Wedderburn and the others. Ten years ago you were on the same side. I have it from good sources.’

‘I’ll not deny I knew them. But not well.’

‘Then they were men who’d deserted the cause. Judases. For all I know you could have set some of your men on them. Not short of angry men, are you.’

Neesom laughed. ‘To what end? I may be worldly but I am no cynic, Mr Blake. I would never sacrifice lives so callously. If you truly thought I had, I don’t think you would be here. I didn’t delight in the road Wedderburn and the others took, but we were hardly enemies. They said they’d paid enough and they didn’t like the religion and respectability of Chartism. I didn’t see how their dirty trade was a proper alternative, but they were not the only ones who withdrew from the struggle. I found succour, faith and a new vigour with the Chartists. They did not. But I will say that if we were to trumpet the injustice of their deaths, no one could blame us.’

‘What about Daniel Wedderburn?’ I said.

‘What about him?’

‘He is a very angry man,’ I said, ‘and he was not with his family the night his father was killed.’

‘It is true he was in a great rage with his father—’

‘A rage,’ I interjected, ‘his mother says you fostered and exploited, and could have calmed had you so chosen.’

‘Nat and Connie could have told him about the past; they chose not to. How is she?’

‘How would you expect?’ I said scornfully.

‘I don’t believe Daniel killed his father and the others,’ said Neesom. ‘He is a believer, he has a fire in his belly, but his passion is for politics. I see no sign of mania.’

‘But as you say, he is in a great rage.’

‘The cause needs young men of passion, believers – soldiers, if you like – to carry it on.’

‘Young soldiers who will fall at the first charge,’ I said, sarcastic. ‘Oh, martyrs, you mean.’

‘Do not mock me, Captain Avery,’ said Neesom mildly. ‘I have spent my life fighting for things you take for granted: for rights and
laws and justice; to vote, to eat, to work fair hours for a fair day’s wage in conditions that will not take years off a man’s life. Things which all men – and women – deserve and few enjoy. I’ve given my life to the cause, lost everything three times over, had years taken from me. And still, the government ignores us and guards its privileges in all its unjust forms. We may fight for decades more, or, God forbid, for longer than that. One must have conviction, and anger, and new blood, to carry it on, as the old lose strength and fade. To keep the cause going we must pass the fight and the fire from generation to generation. The costs are high to those who choose to lead, so yes, I need my angry young soldiers, men willing to risk all. If I did not have them, nothing would ever change.’

‘I’d like my notes returned,’ said Blake suddenly, ‘and the watch taken off my rooms – your men are wretched at tailing me. I want to be left alone to catch this man. If you have a reason for obstructing me, tell me to my face.’

‘Dr McDouall, will you bring Mr Blake his notes?’ said Neesom.

McDouall disappeared upstairs.

‘That was a fine speech,’ said Blake quietly. ‘It would be finer if you were not playing both sides, Neesom.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘If you were not a nose for the coppers yourself.’

Neesom took his spectacles off. He spoke even more quietly. ‘Take care. You are not necessarily among friends.’

‘I have no interest in your horse trading, Neesom. I’ve no doubt you have your reasons. Five, six arrests. Years in prison. Possessions confiscated. Threats to your family. A whisper in your ear, and a calculation. The movement is filled with informers, but the cause continues. I think you know all too well that it will not be force that changes things but time and belief. And if you feed a little to the coppers you can continue your work under their noses – converting, educating, “passing the fight and the fire from generation to generation”. There are problems now, however, with other informers who have exposed what you have not told the coppers, and if your fellow conspirators knew what you were doing they would not be kind. Especially those angry young soldiers so willing to risk all.’

Neesom smiled. ‘That is preposterous.’

‘I know how such things work. In India I ran men such as you. Men with dreams very different from my masters’, but who would feed me a little information to survive.’

Neesom shook his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

‘What if I were to call them all in from outside and accuse you,’ Blake said, ‘what would happen? You might order them to kill us, but Avery would take at least one with him, if not two or three, and I’d do my part. Most would not believe my words, but a few would wonder: would he have said anything so rash if there had not been something in it? How quick Neesom was to have him killed. Could it be? There would be a rot among your believers, a stealthy loss of faith in you. And then we would be missed. The companions of Mountstuart. And eventually they would come to you. What a coup for the coppers. But all of this could be avoided. All I want is my murderer. For that I need a favour and some intelligence.’

Neesom laughed wryly. ‘This is all nonsense,’ he said. He licked his lips. ‘What favour?’

‘I hear there’s to be a Chartist meeting tomorrow at the Orange Tree tavern in Holborn. There’s something there I need. You’ll help me to acquire it. I’ll send you instructions. You’ll need do nothing awkward or incriminating, I assure you.’

‘And what is it that you want to know?’

‘Where is Daniel Wedderburn?’

‘I swear I don’t know. He hasn’t been seen in a day or two,’ Neesom said.

‘Was he here on the nights that the men were murdered?’

‘He stays here often, but he isn’t here every night. If you tell me the dates I will try to remember if he was. But as I say, I do not believe he is your killer, however intemperate he may seem.’

‘Do you expect him tonight?’

‘No,’ said Neesom.

‘Are you worried for him?’

‘I am certain he will appear when he is ready. Will you let me have O’Toole?’

‘He is not your man and I do not have him,’ said Blake. ‘Mr Neesom, how do you pay for these “arrangements” – the pikes, the books, those men out there?’

Neesom pursed his lips. ‘Membership is by subscription, Mr Blake. All comes out of that. There’s little left, believe me. As I said, I myself have been beggared three times.’

‘I’ll send you my requirements. I’ll be discreet. If I may say so,’ he went on more loudly, ‘your men out there are armed with weapons more naturally seen in a rampsman’s armoury. They don’t look like Chartists so much as footpads.’

‘Desperate times, Mr Blake,’ said Neesom, and for the first time he looked discomfited. ‘Our plans require men with a greater experience of physical measures.’

‘When you tangle with those types, things become complicated,’ Blake said. ‘And you do not need me to tell you that Beniofsky’s an unpredictable man.’

‘Well, it appears we shall be reconsidering our plans, so they may not be our men for much longer,’ said Neesom.

McDouall reappeared in the doorway. ‘Your notes, Mr Blake. They are all there.’

Blake took them. ‘See, just shorthand, no code. I will teach you some time if you are interested, Dr McDouall.’

‘Would you be so good as to call Major Beniofsky in on your way out?’ said Neesom. ‘We have matters to discuss.’

Blake had his hand on the door handle. ‘Dr McDouall, do you recall when you stitched my head that you mentioned the use of the vapour ether? I wondered if you had encountered it yourself. Can you describe the smell?’

‘Why yes, just once,’ said McDouall, puzzled. ‘A very strong, pungent odour, sharp like distilled alcohol, but stronger, such that it made my eyes water.’

The street lights in Brick Lane were gloomier and smokier than those in Mayfair. Within a few hundred yards the night became muddily black and we moved beyond sight of Beniofsky’s men.

‘I have never seen a more murderous-looking crowd,’ I said. I still
did not understand why Blake had disclosed the discovery of the plot to Neesom, and it had not escaped me that the man had given very little in return, and nothing about Daniel Wedderburn’s whereabouts.

‘Intelligence is currency,’ Blake said. ‘I gave Neesom a warning because I’ll likely betray him in the end.’

It seemed obvious to me that one way or another we must give the details of the plot to the police and betrayal had nothing to do with it, but I let that pass.

‘It seems to me now that Daniel Wedderburn is our most likely suspect,’ I said, ‘though it grieves me. He has gone into hiding and Neesom clearly protects him. I think we must consider giving some kind of lead to the police about him. It might shift their attention from you.’

Blake bowed his head. ‘I cannot do that.’

‘By God, why not?’

‘I could not hand him to the coppers unless I was certain. Now that Woundy’s dead, and the subject is such a sore one, it would be easy to bang him up and have him on the gibbet in days. A young angry Chartist would fit the bill just right. That is how it would work. Believe me.’

‘And if he is the killer and then kills another, that would be on your conscience.’

Blake rubbed his ear. ‘The chance of another victim against the hanging of a man who may be innocent,’ he said. ‘A nice conundrum.’ He closed his mouth, set his chin and picked up his pace. I knew I should get no more from him on that score.

‘How do you know Neesom is an informer?’

‘I’ve a nose for it.’

‘You can do better than that.’

‘He did not deny it when I put it to him. I expect the coppers came to him when he was in prison. That’s how they do it. Threatened transportation or worse.’

‘So he is a Judas in his own way too.’

‘As I said, I knew men like him in India. He is a believer, he thinks that one way or another they will win in the end, either through
force, or simply through time. He calculates that to continue his work he must feed the police a few titbits, but it will make no difference in the end. In the end it is an idea he fights for, and ideas are hard to suppress.’