Avery & Blake 02 - The Infidel Stain (44 page)

‘Some nine or ten years ago I returned to England and entered Parliament. It was just before the so-called Great Reform Act in ’32. Two things came to pass. I worked to get the reform bill through: deals were brokered, promises made and broken, points urged and withdrawn. When finally the bill was put through, the Whigs congratulated themselves on how they had reformed the system, and had selflessly given up their privileges. But to me it was a deal of air and effort expended over nothing. The vote was only minimally extended; corruption remains. Parliament disappointed me.’

‘And the second thing?’

‘A year or so after the Act passed I was given a place on a committee to look into stamp duty on newspapers and the matter of censorship. The post amused me – although I was known as a radical, no one in Parliament knew about my history. Then Nat came in with a group of petitioners appealing for the reduction of the stamp. Time had dealt harshly with him, but we knew each other at once. He waited for me afterwards and asked me if I would meet him. I agreed. I wished to see Daniel, who was then ten or eleven years old. There was no question but that he was my son. Connie was still a fine-looking woman. I offered to take the boy and bring him up as my own. They refused but it was done with no anger – at least on Nat’s part. Connie and I, well, she made her choice. Nat and I fell to talking of the past. We found we were of a mind in our disappointment with the Reform Act. Nat said he was done with campaigning. Prison had worn away at him, the old radical groups had been overrun with informers, and now the movement was changing in a direction he could not follow.’

‘You still believed in the principles of Spa Fields,’ Blake prompted.

‘Yes. It was clear Nat was in some financial difficulty. I tried to press money upon him. He refused it but asked that I see what I
might be able to do for the cause – our cause. Connie took the money I offered, though she could hardly bring herself to thank me for it. Through Nat I met Woundy and Blundell again. Woundy had had several businesses. Blundell had lost his old exuberance but was still devoted to Nat and, like Nat, was struggling to make ends meet.’

‘What next?’

‘We agreed to take up the torch again when we could, but to do so privately.’

‘Secretly, you mean,’ I said.

‘It was you who lent Woundy the capital to set up his businesses, was it not?’ said Blake. ‘You are his backer.’

Heffernan looked shocked.

‘I have some friends at Westminster Hall,’ Blake said. ‘I’ve been told you were lucky to escape prosecution and keep your seat in 1834 over an accusation of fraud.’

‘It was a mistake, the matter was dropped.’

‘I found the papers for the case. The other man accused was Eldred Woundy. You seemed quite tied up in each other’s pockets.’

Heffernan gulped and fell silent.

‘Woundy had a real talent for making money. From his brothel and his lodging-houses, and his mechanism for blackmail. He made you a pretty fortune too. You helped him.’

Heffernan bridled. ‘He made Nat and Matthew secure. Raised them out of poverty.’

‘To sell lewd books and blackmail on his behalf, and take the heat of the magistrates, while he appeared respectable,’ I said. ‘Very principled.’

‘You do not understand, young man,’ Heffernan said. ‘It was a living, and in the spirit of our beliefs. The books skewered and satirized the rich hypocrites who bought them. They were the butt of the joke. And Nat, it transpired, had quite a way with such material. As for those who handed over money for the protection of their reputations, they had only themselves to blame. Nat and Eldred disdained them.’

‘Would not some call you a hypocrite, with your secret son and
your secret beliefs, funding a man who made his money through blackmail and brothels and stuffing the poor into lodging-houses?’ I said, repelled.

‘Eldred was always torn between money and principle, but he was true to our principles at the last.’

‘And have you been true to them?’

‘I think so – it is the best part of me. What I have done – what we did – was for a higher cause.’

‘Giving money to Charles Neesom and the physical-force Chartists, whom I thought you and the others hated,’ said Blake.

‘Chartism is currently the only hope for democracy and freedom. It may have been ambushed by the Christians and temperance men, but there are true spirits within it.’

‘Charlie Neesom.’

‘Neesom worked with Nat against the stamp. They never lost touch. He decided to cleave to Chartism, but he works from within to reclaim the old truths and keep the faith.’

‘But he’s Christian and temperance,’ I said. ‘And he’s planning an armed rebellion.’

‘Perhaps that is what it will take. But even if it fails, do you have any idea how much money those northern manufacturers pour into the Anti-Corn-Law League’s coffers each year?’ Heffernan said. ‘Thousands upon thousands. They can pay for anything: offices of writers and speakers, whole newspapers, bills, halls to speak in. We proceed upon the passion and the faith of poor men already fatigued by sixteen hours’ labour before they can turn their thoughts to a better day. These men need help. Support. Money. And believe me, I am not the only man of higher station who has contributed.’

‘Who else?’

‘You have the ledger.’

‘I do. You made introductions. Brought respectable men to Woundy, who found ways to extract money from them. Blackmailed them.’

‘You cannot have any proof of that.’

‘Connie thinks Neesom will send your son to his death,’ said Blake, changing the subject. ‘She asked us to save Daniel from him.’

Heffernan looked pained. ‘I will see that he is protected.’

‘And how will you do that?’ said Blake impatiently. ‘The police already know of the plot, in almost every detail.’

‘You told them!’

‘Not I. The movement is stuffed to bursting with informers. Every inch of it.’

Heffernan crumpled. ‘I cannot believe that.’

‘And yet it is true.’

‘Does Daniel know you are his father?’ I said, thinking to distract him.

‘Connie did not want him to know, and I came to think that it was, perhaps, better that way. Connie said he was asking questions, and it seemed politic not to become too familiar. Sometimes I travel to the Strand and watch him in the street. A tall, strong, handsome young man, don’t you think? Do the new police,’ he spoke tremulously, ‘do they know about me?’

‘Your name is in the book, but we have that. What becomes of it depends upon you. Who knew about you? Perhaps you would kill to ensure you were not found out.’

‘No! No, I swear it, I did not kill them.’ He began to weep.

I looked away.

‘When did you hear about Nat and Blundell?’ said Blake.

‘Woundy sent me a message the day after Blundell died. He came to tell me of Nat’s death. He said the police had turned a blind eye, a cause both for relief and fear, and said he was taking precautions to guard against attack. You cannot imagine the terror I have lived with since Eldred’s murder.’

‘What is it that you fear?’ said Blake quietly.

‘At first it was exposure and disgrace,’ Heffernan whispered. ‘Then that he would come for me and kill me as he had the others. So I keep at home, waiting for I know not what. I have dismissed most of the servants. I have had every door and window locked. Every knock at the door, every rattle at the window, leaves me terrified. I keep a pistol here’ – he gestured to his desk – ‘and another under my pillow. I fear I shall go mad. I have no idea whom to fear.’

‘I can protect you,’ said Blake, ‘and keep your name from the
press, I promise you – and I never promise what I cannot deliver. But you must tell me the truth. Otherwise …’ He held the ledger by his forefinger and thumb, letting it dangle perilously.

‘Yes,’ said Heffernan, ‘I admit it. I made introductions for Eldred to men of prominence and wealth. He would work them. On their weaknesses and their sympathies, whichever was more effective, then threaten to expose them. They paid handsomely. And it has not been altogether unhelpful to my political career to have such information in reserve.’

‘So you have used blackmail to extract advantages for yourself. You have good reason to fear Eldred’s victims.’

‘I only used it once or twice, and that was some years ago. Never since. I have always taken great care to ensure that my connection appeared as tenuous and innocent as possible.’

‘And yet your name is in this ledger and you are shaking in your boots.’

‘I-I …’

I looked out of the window towards the grey slick of the Thames. ‘There is a policeman standing outside the house. I think he has been there for some time,’ I said.

Heffernan slid from his chair and cowered on the floor.

‘Mr Blake, you could protect me,’ he said suddenly. ‘I would pay you handsomely. Save me from this monster! Do not tell the police of my involvement with Neesom, I beg you. I beg you!’

‘Who do you fear, Mr Heffernan?’

‘I do not know, I cannot be certain. But when you came to see me, then I felt most fearful.’

‘Why?’ I said.

‘Because Mr Heffernan was the one who introduced Viscount Allington to Eldred Woundy,’ said Blake.

‘
Allington?
’ I said. We left through Heffernan’s backyard, and turned the corner to walk back round to the river where the cabs went. ‘Sweet heaven – Matty! Do you think he—’

‘I am not sure what to think, but we must see him. And I must tell you—’

‘He will not admit you.’

‘We will see.’

My mind teemed. I could hardly take it in. ‘I cannot believe Heffernan’s name was inscribed in that book,’ I said. ‘How could they have been so foolish?’

‘They were not.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘They were not. There were no names in the ledger. See for yourself.’

He handed it to me. The pages were inscribed with minutes of dull meetings in a tight, tidy hand. No names.

‘What did I risk? What time have we wasted, for this?’ I said incredulously.

‘I needed to provoke a reaction both from Neesom and Heffernan, and I did not know how long I would have before the coppers got wind of me. The day we went to Westminster Hall to find Heffernan, the clerks hinted there was talk about him. They have long memories. I sent the ostler’s boy with a few shillings and got wind of the old fraud case but no mention of Woundy. I finessed that out of Heffernan. When we saw Neesom, it suddenly seemed obvious that the rising needed money. Who else but Woundy could supply it?’

‘And you chose not to tell me.’

‘You believed in the ledger. You convinced Heffernan. Now, about Matty—’

We turned the corner into Cheyne Walk and ran straight into a party of new police led by Sergeant Loin. Tucked into the left of Heffernan’s house was a covered police van drawn by two horses. I would have run, but Blake let them take him like a lamb. Two constables rushed forward and roughly grabbed his arms, pressing his hands together. Loin produced a pair of iron cuffs and enclosed his wrists. I demanded what the charge was. Loin ignored me.

‘How did you find us?’ I said.

‘Your friend, Mr O’Toole, tipped us off,’ said Loin.

‘No friend of ours,’ I said bitterly.

‘So you acted on my note about the Mulberry Bush tavern then, Sergeant Loin,’ said Blake. ‘Did you find a good cache of pikes?’

Loin wrenched his wrists together.

‘Listen to me,’ Blake said. ‘It’s true I have not left off looking into these murders. But who else will search for the culprit? And do you think he will stop? You know he will not. And I am so nearly there.’

‘It is not up to me.’

‘You don’t like being told to look the other way, and given no good reason for it. You know I had nothing to do with these murders.’

Loin pushed Blake forward. He stumbled.

‘You do not like to be given orders you cannot see the reason for, or to place blame where you know it does not belong. But how far would you go in this? Would you see me hanged for something you know I did not do?’

‘Be quiet!’ said Loin, attempting to put his hand across Blake’s mouth. Blake broke away.

‘I can pull together all the pieces of the Chartist plot for you – perpetrators, plans, all of it. I just need more time.’

‘If the Chartists rise, all the better,’ said Loin. ‘We shall prevent them and have ourselves a good haul. And they shall be punished as they deserve.’

‘I do not believe you think that. People are hungry and angry. If the rising starts, who knows where it will go: there will certainly be riots. It will be your men upon whom the anger and resentment will be visited, your men who will have to remake things afterwards, not the commissioners and superintendents. You know I am right, Loin, and you know what is right.’

Loin gave Blake another push. ‘Put him in the van, boys. We’ll take him to the cells; tomorrow he’ll go before the magistrate.’

‘You’ve not arrested me yet,’ said Blake. ‘Are you going to arrest me?’

Loin ignored him.

‘You’d better charge me or I won’t come quietly,’ he said grimly, beginning to struggle in the constables’ grasp.

Loin grunted. ‘Jeremiah Blake, I am arresting you for the murder of Eldred Woundy.’

‘You cannot do this,’ I said, placing my hand on Loin’s shoulder.
‘This is not lawful. You have no evidence. I can swear he was with me all night, standing guard over Connie Wedderburn and her children. Others saw him. I am not without influence.’

‘Take your hand off me, Captain Avery,’ said Loin.

‘What shall I do, Blake?’ I appealed. ‘Tell me! And what about Taylor and Matty and Pen? We barely have a day!’

They began to bundle him into the van. ‘Avery,’ he shouted over his shoulder, ‘I received word from the Norwood orphanage this morning. Matty is not there.’ They pushed him down and he spoke no more.

‘This will not stop, Sergeant Loin,’ I said. ‘The printers were one thing, but what of the deaths of Dearlove and Woundy’s bruiser? I have witnesses to swear that Blake was far too weak after your beating to leave his rooms when they were killed.’

‘What do you mean, Woundy’s bruiser?’

‘The body that Dearlove and I found in the Drury Lane courts three nights ago. It was one of Woundy’s bruisers. Dearlove reported it at Bow Street police station the day before he died.’