Peril on the Royal Train (2 page)

‘How can you possibly know that?’

‘Would you care to accept a wager on it, Superintendent?’

Edward Tallis smouldered in his chair. Colbeck met his hostile glare with a challenging smile. It was at moments like this that the underlying tension between the two men came to the fore. While they shared a degree of mutual respect, they also had grave reservations about each other. A former soldier, accustomed to unquestioning obedience, Tallis resented the fact that his inspector always teetered on the brink of insubordination. The resentment was shored up by envy and disapproval. Tallis was jealous of the praise that the so-called Railway Detective routinely garnered at the end of a successful investigation, while he – technically in charge of the case – was usually given short shrift in the press. Then there was the question of the inspector’s private life. Having lectured Colbeck on the importance of having no distractions, the superintendent was mortified when he chose to get married, fearing that it would weaken his effectiveness.

For his part, Colbeck was ready to acknowledge the time, effort and commitment that his superior put into his job, but the man’s single-mindedness was a flaw in his character. Tallis had no existence outside Scotland Yard. That was his kingdom and he liked to rule the roost. He had no understanding of the lives of his officers and treated them with a mixture of strict discipline and distrust. Colbeck could make allowances for the man’s envy and shrugged off his disapproval of the recent marriage. But he could not countenance the way Tallis tried to interfere in cases, causing both delay and frustration. Over the years he’d learnt to cope with the superintendent but he still couldn’t bring himself to like the man.

‘The matter is settled,’ decided Tallis, taking a cigar from the box in front of him. ‘Forget that you ever saw this telegraph.’

‘I’m afraid that I can’t do that, sir.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told, Inspector.’

‘We can’t turn down an appeal like that,’ insisted Colbeck. ‘Instead of bickering about it, I should be finding out the time of the next train to Scotland.’

‘You’ll do nothing of the kind.’ Tallis paused to cut off the end of the cigar before thrusting it into his mouth and lighting it. He puffed hard then exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘Is that clear?’

‘It may be clear, sir, but it also happens to be wrongheaded.’

Tallis bridled. ‘Do you
dare
to question my judgement?’

‘Ordinarily, it would never cross my mind to do so,’ said Colbeck, smoothly, ‘because your judgement is usually sound. In this case, I submit, you haven’t taken all the facts into consideration.’

‘We
have
no facts. The telegraph is terse in the extreme.’

‘The word “disaster” is enough for me, Superintendent. That, and the fact that three railwaymen were killed. This is a crisis. We must respond to it.’

Tallis’s only response was to jab the cigar between his teeth and puff on it as if his life depended on creating a smokescreen. He was momentarily obscured. It was pure accident that Colbeck even knew about the accident. When the telegraph from the Caledonian Railway arrived at Scotland Yard, it went first to the commissioner. The man charged with taking it to the superintendent’s office happened to bump into Colbeck in the corridor.

‘Another case for the Railway Detective,’ he’d said, waving the paper.

Colbeck had taken it from him. ‘Let me see.’

When he’d read the summons, he acted as the delivery boy, taking the telegraph into Tallis’s office and handing it over. Eager to be told to leave for Scotland, he was dismayed when the superintendent wanted to keep him shackled in London. When other pleas for help had come in from different parts of the country, Tallis had been willing to dispatch him instantly. For some reason, he was not going to do it this time.

Colbeck rose to his feet and adjusted his frock coat. He was a portrait of elegance, tall, slim and debonair. It was another thing that Tallis held against him. Colbeck was such a dandy that he made the superintendent feel unkempt. Detectives in the Metropolitan Police Force were not well paid but Colbeck had private means that enabled him to retain the services of a good tailor. That set him apart from his colleagues – as well as from most members of the criminal fraternity. What he and Tallis had in common was an iron will. A collision between them was imminent.

‘Perhaps I should take the matter up with the commissioner,’ suggested Colbeck with feigned politeness.

‘You’ll do nothing of the kind!’ yelled Tallis, banging a fist on the desk.

‘But the telegraph was sent directly to him.’

‘It was then passed on to me for consideration. Unfortunately, you had an unauthorised glance at it before it was put in my hands.’

‘It was just as well that I saw it, sir. Had I not done so, you’d have rushed into a foolish decision to disregard the summons.’

‘My decisions are never foolish.’

‘Let’s call them rash and overhasty, then.’

Tallis’s cheeks reddened. ‘You are not going to Scotland.’

‘The commissioner may take a different view.’

‘And you are not bothering the commissioner,’ asserted the other, jumping up and inadvertently flicking cigar ash all down his waistcoat. ‘He has empowered me to take whatever action I feel necessary. I expect loyalty from my detectives,’ he boomed. ‘Try to go over my head and you’ll suffer the consequences.’

‘The only consequences that interest me are those that emanate from the train crash. They are desperate for my help in Scotland. It would be cruel to deny it to them.’

Tallis was peevish. ‘If I sent you up there, you’d only be in the way.’

‘That’s not the impression I get from the telegraph, sir.’

‘They’ll have enough people to look into the disaster. The railway police will already be asking questions and the procurator fiscal will launch his own inquiry. If memory serves me, there’s also a sheriff who’s likely to get involved as well. Then, of course, there’s the railway inspector. That stretch of line will be crawling with officers of one kind or another. In short,’ concluded Tallis with an air of finality, ‘you are redundant.’

‘There’s something you’re forgetting, Superintendent.’

‘I very much doubt that.’

‘Competent as any investigation will surely be, it’s unlikely to be led by someone with direct experience of a railway disaster. That’s where Sergeant Leeming and I have the advantage.’ Colbeck took a step towards him. ‘Do I need to remind you of the catastrophe that befell the Brighton express some years ago?’

‘No, you don’t – it was one of our greatest successes.’

An express train had been derailed at speed and crashed into a ballast train coming in the opposite direction. The railway inspector had described it as an accident brought about by a serious error by the driver, a man killed on the spot and therefore unable to defend himself. Colbeck had proved that the disaster had been deliberately contrived by someone with an obsessive grudge against the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway and one of its regular passengers.

‘Investigating that crash gave us insights that can be put to practical use in Scotland,’ said Colbeck, reasonably. ‘We know how to avoid the blind alleys.’

Tallis was unmoved. ‘You are staying here,’ he decreed. ‘As you well know, the Detective Department is plagued by an insufficient budget and a shortage of manpower. I can’t afford to send two of my best men hundreds of miles away for what may well be a lengthy investigation.’

‘You were happy enough to send us off to Devon last year.’

‘That’s immaterial.’

‘I disagree,’ said Colbeck, locking horns with him. ‘What took us to Exeter was the murder of a stationmaster. Regrettable as it was, it doesn’t compare in scope and significance with a calamity like this. Three people have been killed and the damage to freight and rolling stock is immense. We simply must answer the call.’

‘Out of the question,’ snapped Tallis. ‘You could be away for weeks.’

‘I’ll stay in Scotland for months if that’s what it takes.’

‘You won’t be going anywhere near that benighted country. There’s work for you right on our doorstep. A publican had his throat cut in Whitechapel last night. You and Sergeant Leeming are to take charge of the investigation.’ He treated Colbeck to the withering stare with which he used to cow rebellious soldiers during his army days. Then he turned his back to signal that the discussion was over. ‘The details are in the folder on my desk,’ he said, coldly. ‘Study them on the cab ride to Whitechapel.’

Colbeck ignored the command. Instead of touching the folder, he reached for a piece of blank stationery and took the quill from the inkwell. When he heard the scratch of the pen, Tallis swung round in disbelief.

‘What – in God’s name – are you
doing
?’ he cried.

‘I’m writing a letter of resignation,’ replied Colbeck. ‘It will take immediate effect. Send someone else to Whitechapel.’

‘But I’m giving you an order.’

‘You are no longer in a position to do so, sir. We’ve obviously come to a parting of the ways. My place is on the Caledonian Railway. If you refuse to sanction my departure, I’ve no alternative but to resign and go of my own accord.’

‘But you’d have no authority,’ blustered Tallis. ‘You wouldn’t have the weight of Scotland Yard behind you.’

Colbeck’s retort was crisp. ‘At the moment, I feel that it’s right on top of me and it’s a burden I need to shed. As for authority,’ he went on, drawing himself up and casting off his natural modesty for once, ‘it lies in my reputation and there’s not a detective alive who can match my record of solving crime on the railways of Britain. I cannot – and will not – turn my back on this emergency. Now, sir,’ he added, motioning the other man back, ‘I beg you to stop looming over me so that I sever my links with Scotland Yard in favour of Scotland.’

Tallis was thunderstruck. Colbeck was in earnest. Rather than obey orders, he was going to resign. The superintendent quailed at the thought of having to explain to the commissioner why the finest detective in the department had left them. Blame would fall directly on Tallis. There was a secondary fear. If the inspector did resign, he would not be abandoning the fight against crime. He’d simply continue that fight on a different basis. Instead of being able to utilise Colbeck’s rare gifts, Tallis might be in competition with them. Railway companies in dire need would turn first to a man of proven ability. Robert Colbeck, private detective, would be free to choose the cases he took on. It was a terrifying possibility.

There was a final indignity. As he tried to draw solace from his cigar, Tallis discovered that it had gone out. His glowing certainty had also dimmed to the faintest glimmer. His will of iron cracked. He reached out a hand to grab Colbeck’s wrist.

‘There’s no need to write any more,’ he said with a note of appeasement, forcing his features into a semblance of a smile. ‘Let’s talk about Scotland, shall we? You may, after all, have a point.’

In the wake of the crash, there were two immediate priorities. The first was to recover the dead bodies, a simple undertaking in the case of the guard but a daunting one where driver and fireman were concerned. Their mutilated corpses, blackened by fire, were at the very bottom of the wreckage. Rescue workers strove hard to shift the mounds of debris in order to get the two men out before their relatives arrived. At all costs, they wanted to prevent grieving families from seeing the hideous sight that greeted them on arrival. Jock Laidlaw and Dougal Murray were unrecognisable, their heads smashed to a pulp and their roasted bodies twisted into unnatural shapes. Laidlaw had lost an arm. Both of Murray’s legs had been cut off at the knee. Death had been mercifully swift but it had left a repulsive signature.

While a team of men addressed the first priority, another team turned its attention to the second. The line had to be cleared. It was a Herculean task but there were many volunteers. As word spread, people swarmed in from every direction, some carrying spades, axes or other implements, others merely bringing strong arms and a desire to help. They worked with railway employees throughout the evening and on into the night, reinforced by fresh assistance from the surrounding villages and farms. Darkness brought another problem. Fires were lit to illumine the scene and to burn some of the debris but they only cast a fitful glare over the devastation. It meant that the discarded freight was at the mercy of nocturnal predators, quick-fingered thieves who sought to exploit the disaster for their own ends rather than joining the rescuers. Railway policemen were powerless to stop them. They were hopelessly outnumbered and, even with lanterns in their hands, couldn’t easily pick people out in the dark.

One of the few wagons that had somehow remained on the track was carrying a consignment of cheese, destined for a wholesaler in Edinburgh. Much of it would never reach him. Once discovered, the wagon became a magnet for the thieves who grabbed everything they could carry, hid it nearby then went back for more. And there were other foodstuffs on hand for those bold enough to steal them, not to mention crates of dead or squawking chickens tossed out uncaringly during the crash and piled up at crazy angles. If something could be carried, it was likely to disappear.

Nairn Craig was disgusted by the reports he received next morning.

‘How could any decent man behave like that?’ he asked.

‘It’s human nature, sir,’ replied his companion, dourly. ‘A tragedy like this brings out the best in some people and the very worst in others. And it wasn’t only men involved. I heard the rustle of skirts clearly. Women can pilfer just as well. They and their menfolk swooped down like so many vultures.’

‘They should be sent to prison for a long time.’

‘That’s easier said than done, Mr Craig. How can you arrest people when you don’t know who they are? They were phantoms in the night. By dawn, they’d vanished into thin air. Besides,’ he said, raising a meaningful eyebrow, ‘they weren’t all driven by criminal intent. Wages are low for farm labourers and those out of work have even emptier bellies. There’s a lot of desperation in this shire, sir. When they see a chance like this, the needy can’t stop themselves.’