Peril on the Royal Train (25 page)

Other disagreeable experiences followed throughout the day, culminating in the discovery that his cigar box was empty. When he dispatched an underling to the tobacconist, the man returned with the news that the chosen brand of cigar was temporarily out of stock. Bruised by harsh criticism and unable to reach for the succour of a smoke, Tallis went on the rampage, touring the building in search of detectives he could berate in order to drain off some of his fury. Much of it still remained, however, boiling inside the cauldron of his brain and seeking someone it could scald and mark for life. Inevitably, the victim selected was Robert Colbeck. He had to take the punishment. Tallis resolved that he’d catch the train to Scotland in the morning and make the inspector’s ears burn with shame.

He was seated at his desk, staring at the empty cigar box, when there was a tap on his door. He barked a command that would have sent most people running for safety but his visitor was obviously prepared to brave the tempest. The door opened and Colbeck stepped into the room with a smile.

‘Good evening, sir,’ he said, affably. ‘I knew that you’d still be here.’

Tallis gaped at him. ‘I thought you were in Scotland.’

‘We decided to come back, sir.’

‘Does that mean you
solved
the crime?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Colbeck. ‘What we have done is to recognise its true nature. That impelled us to return to Scotland Yard.’

‘I had your report,’ said Tallis, ready to explode, ‘and it was deliberately misleading. A letter from Mr Craig gave a truer picture of events and claimed that your visit to Scotland had achieved practically nothing.’

‘Mr Craig doesn’t think that now, I can assure you.’

‘Why is that?’

‘If you’ll permit me, sir, I’ll tell you.’

‘And where is Leeming?’ demanded Tallis. ‘Did you leave the sergeant in Glasgow?’

‘No,’ replied Colbeck, ‘I sent him off to his family then I took my own wife back home in a cab before I came here.’

The superintendent leapt to his feet. ‘Am I hearing this correctly?’ he said in disbelief. ‘You’re in the middle of a major investigation yet you find time to come home to see your respective wives. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Let me be more precise. Sergeant Leeming has gone home for the night but I didn’t return in order to see my wife. Mrs Colbeck was in Glasgow with us.’

‘Good Lord! This gets worse and worse.’

‘My wife was there for a purpose, sir.’

‘I don’t need to be told what that purpose was,’ said Tallis with disdain. ‘You are a detective, damn you! When you’re involved in an investigation, you have no time to be a husband as well. Make that abundantly clear to Mrs Colbeck.’

‘I’ve already done so.’

‘Then what – in the name of all that’s holy – was the lady doing in Glasgow?’

Colbeck had no opportunity to explain. He was caught in a veritable storm of vituperation. Tallis roared on for several minutes, blaming him for his apparent failure, chiding him for sending a false report of progress, and threatening him with demotion. At the end of his harangue, he sat back in his chair and reached for his cigar box. When he saw that it was empty, he hurled it to the floor. Colbeck retrieved it and set it down on the desk.

‘May I be allowed to speak now?’ he asked politely.

Tallis was enraged that his visitor was so relaxed and unperturbed.

‘You should be cowering with shame, Inspector.’

‘There’s no reason to do so, sir. What I bring you is news of a far more serious crime than the one we were sent to investigate. It’s my belief that the royal family could be in danger.’

‘Are you trying to trick me again?’ said Tallis, voice thick with suspicion. ‘I want no more false reports, Colbeck.’

‘This one, I’m afraid, is horribly true. Judge for yourself, sir.’

Having finally got a chance to speak, he didn’t waste it. Colbeck gave a succinct account of the evidence gathered by Madeleine and interpreted by her father. He explained how it related to the earlier train crash. Sceptical at first, Tallis soon came to see how convincing the theory was. By the time that Colbeck had finished, the superintendent was ready to admit that he’d been right to return to London.

‘Who else knows about this?’ he asked.

‘Mr Craig is the only person apart from the four of us and you, sir. I told him that the utmost secrecy is required.’

‘Quite right – if it becomes public knowledge, the villains will abandon their plan and devise another about which we’ll have no forewarning.’

‘The commissioner will have to be told, of course,’ said Colbeck, ‘and he will then liaise with the royal household and its advisors. The decision as to whether or not they travel to Scotland must rest with them.’

‘I’m wondering about that document in Mr Renwick’s safe,’ said Tallis. ‘My understanding is that travel arrangements by the royal family are advertised shortly in advance of the nominated day so that the line can be kept clear. The burglar had no need to steal the information.’

‘The details he was after didn’t simply concern the date of travel. Exact times of arrival and departure at every station on the way were in that document. My father-in-law has driven the royal train. He knows the protocol. And there’s another thing that would have interested those behind the attack,’ Colbeck went on. ‘The document would have told them who’d be on that train and in which compartments they’d travel. They’d know exactly where to hit their target.’

Tallis took a few moments to assimilate all the information. Gone was his blistering antagonism towards Colbeck. In its place was an amalgam of gratitude and admiration. Scotland Yard had been alerted about a crime of grotesque proportions. If it succeeded, the consequences would be incalculable. At the end of a day in which he’d been constantly pilloried, Tallis spotted an opportunity to redeem himself.

‘I owe you profound thanks for bringing this to my attention, Inspector,’ he said. ‘It’s a national emergency. That’s why I intend to take charge of the case myself. From now on, you and Sergeant Leeming will have me at your side.’

Colbeck quailed. The investigation had just lurched out of his control.

Jamie Farr always visited Lockerbie with mixed feelings. It was the home of the largest lamb market in Scotland and, though it was a vital source of income for the landowner who employed him, he never went there with any enthusiasm. Lambs he’d raised with great care were being sold for slaughter and that was bound to cause unease. His father had taught him that sentiment had no place in the life of a shepherd but it was a precept easier to repeat than to obey. Herding lambs into a pen in Lockerbie always troubled Farr. Even when he got a good price for his stock, he returned home with a satisfaction edged with sadness. What he did always enjoy, however, was the opportunity to explore the town. Lockerbie might not compare with the urban sprawl of Glasgow but it was much bigger than the villages and hamlets into which Farr usually ventured. It had well-planned streets, a plethora of shops, a thriving business community and, most recently, its own gasworks. Only twenty miles from the English border, it nevertheless retained its Scottish identity.

On his latest visit to the town, there was something to take his mind off the feelings of loss as he parted with his lambs. Farr was engaged in a search. He had reward money in his pocket and a desire to earn far more. He and Bella Drew had ambitions. They could never be achieved if he remained a shepherd whose father took the greater proportion of what little money came their way. The most he could hope for was to inherit their bare and comfortless cottage and that time might be far distant. Neither he nor Bella could wait that long. The crime was still unsolved. Those who engineered a train crash which resulted in death, destruction and enormous cost had still not been caught. Farr was certain that clues to their identity lay somewhere on the land that he patrolled. It might even be that they intended to strike again. The detective from Scotland Yard had implied that. Why had he told the shepherd to remain on the lookout if he didn’t think the railway was still in danger?

Farr went hunting through a number of shops before he found what he wanted. It was in the window of a small establishment that sold second-hand clothing and a vast jumble of curios and other items. What he was after was half-concealed behind a pile of tattered magazines. He went into the shop and picked it up, surprised at its weight and noting that it had acquired a few dents over the years. The shopkeeper, a thin-faced man in his sixties, looked askance at the customer’s smock.

‘Pu’ tha’ doon, lad,’ he warned. ‘It’s more than ye can afford.’

‘I want it,’ said Farr, stubbornly.

‘And ye can tak the dog oot of heer. Whatever he breaks wi’ waggin’ his tail like tha’, ye’ll have to pay for.’

‘Angus!’

The name was enough to make the dog sit down obediently beside his master.

Though the shopkeeper continued to protest, Farr examined the object he wanted, extending it to its full length and gasping in wonder when he applied an eye to one end. It would be well worth the price on the ticket that dangled from it.

Minutes later, he and Angus left the shop with the telescope.

‘What time will you be back?’ asked Madeleine.

‘I don’t know.’

‘When will you return to Scotland?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘What if the royal train is cancelled altogether?’

‘One can only guess at the consequences.’

She was close to exasperation. ‘Is there anything you
can
tell me?’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, turning to plant a kiss on her forehead. ‘I can tell you that I love my wife more and more each day.’

They were in the hall of their house in John Islip Street. Colbeck had been studying himself in the full-length mirror before putting on his top hat to go out. After the restorative delight of a night in his own home, Colbeck had shared an early breakfast with his wife and was about to depart for Scotland Yard. While she was appalled that anyone should wish to harm the royal family, Madeleine saw that the situation might bring a tangential benefit for her husband.

‘Will you get to meet Her Majesty?’ she asked with excitement.

‘I think it highly unlikely.’

‘What about the Prince Consort?’

‘That’s a possibility,’ he replied. ‘He acts as Her Majesty’s secretary, helping her to make the countless decisions that fall to her and shielding her from intrusion. It may well be that I have the honour of meeting Prince Albert, though, of course, it will not be for the first time.’

She smiled nostalgically. Though he was quite unaware of it, the Prince Consort had actually helped her friendship with Colbeck to develop in its early stages. At the Great Exhibition of 1851 – a project dear to the heart of the Prince – Colbeck had outwitted and apprehended people bent on destroying the vast glass edifice at Crystal Palace. As a result, he’d been thanked in person by the Prince who’d given him two free tickets to the exhibition, enabling him to invite Madeleine to join him on the first of their many outings together.

‘The commissioner did well out of the exhibition,’ he recalled. ‘Because of his success in organising the policing of the event, he was given a knighthood. But I gained even more from the event. Those tickets from Prince Albert changed my life.’

The compliment made Madeleine beam with joy. She adjusted his cravat.

‘You must look your best if you’re going to meet royalty,’ she said.

‘It may not be for some time yet,’ he said. ‘The commissioner will make the initial contact. Indeed, I may not be directly involved in any way.’

‘But you
should
be, Robert. It’s your investigation.’

‘Superintendent Tallis has other ideas. He’s taken charge of it now.’

‘That’s unfair. You’ve done all the work.’

‘He has the power of superior rank.’

‘You should complain to the commissioner.’

‘I’ve no wish to get involved in political infighting, my love,’ he said. ‘The fact is that the superintendent has the right to do what he’s done. Like anyone else in the Metropolitan Police, I occupy a place in the structure of command. Those above me can direct my actions. I just hope that, in the superintendent’s case, he doesn’t hamper this investigation by being overly ambitious.’

‘Do you think that he’ll make a blunder?’

‘I think that his vision is clouded by an unreal hope. This is his opportunity to shine, Madeleine,’ he said. ‘He’s in search of his own knighthood.’

Having faced some biting criticism of late in the commissioner’s office, Tallis was now able to approach it with a spring in his step. He had something of great moment to report and expected congratulation. Sir Richard Mayne didn’t look as if he was in a congratulatory mood when he exchanged greetings with Tallis. He was still smarting from a recent attack on him in
Punch
, the satirical magazine quick to pillory what it saw as the shortcomings of the police service. The cartoon of him in
Punch
had made the commissioner look old, weary and woebegone. In reality, he was a handsome man who’d not long entered his sixth decade and whose face – framed by luxuriant hair and side whiskers – radiated intelligence. Son of a judge and a former barrister, he had what were deemed to be impeccable credentials when selected to run the Metropolitan Police Force. Joint commissioner with Charles Rowan until 1850, Mayne now had sole command.

After gesturing Tallis to a seat, he regarded him with displeasure.

‘What bad news have you brought me this morning?’ he asked.

‘It’s both bad and good, Sir Richard.’

‘It’s too early in the morning for riddles. Explain yourself.’

‘There’s a threat to the royal family,’ said Tallis, ‘but I’m in a position to block it and to arrest those responsible.’

He enlarged on his blunt opening statement, playing down the role of his detectives and giving the impression that the intelligence gathered had been largely the result of his personal intervention. Mayne was not deceived.