Peril on the Royal Train (26 page)

‘Why wasn’t I told this last night?’ he demanded.

‘I knew that you’d travelled out of London.’

‘Then why didn’t you come and find me?’

‘I had no idea where you were, Sir Richard.’

‘Saints preserve us!’ exclaimed the commissioner. ‘You’re a
detective
, man. Was it beyond the bounds of your ability to track me down? As it happens, I was at a dinner in Beaconsfield. You could easily have reached me there.’

‘I’ve reached you now, Sir Richard,’ said Tallis with a weak smile, ‘and told you everything that’s relevant to the situation.’

‘I have doubts about that. You’ve told me about an investigation in which Inspector Colbeck is involved yet you hardly mentioned his name. How did he come by this disturbing information? And why isn’t he here to pass it on to me in person? He’s far more articulate than you and can give me first-hand intelligence.’

Tallis took a deep breath and considered his reply. He felt that he’d never really been appreciated by Mayne. Of the two original commissioners, he’d much preferred to deal with Rowan, a military hero who’d fought and been wounded at Waterloo. As an army man himself, Tallis had felt an affinity with Rowan. They talked the same language and shared the same attitudes. Mayne was different, more aloof and intellectual, with traits that reminded the superintendent of Robert Colbeck. Yet the man’s position had to be respected. An answer was needed.

‘This is a matter of the greatest import,’ he said. ‘I feel that someone more senior than an inspector should be in charge.’

‘That’s a reasonable argument,’ admitted Mayne, ‘but my question is still unanswered. How did Colbeck learn of this appalling business?’

‘It came to light in the course of his investigation, Sir Richard.’

‘Be more explicit.’

‘He was informed of the danger.’

‘By whom?’ pressed Mayne. ‘Whom do we have to thank for the warning?’

Tallis cleared his throat. ‘It was Mrs Colbeck,’ he said, reluctant to yield up credit to anyone else. ‘We must thank Colbeck’s wife and father-in-law.’

‘His father-in-law?’ echoed Mayne with incredulity. ‘Since when has a police investigation turned into a family matter?’

‘It’s all rather complicated, Sir Richard.’

‘Do you dare to suggest that the intricacies are beyond my comprehension? Let’s hear the full story,’ insisted Mayne, rapping the top of his desk with his knuckles. ‘You should bear in mind that, like Inspector Colbeck, I was a barrister before I joined the police. Grasp of detail is part of our stock-in-trade.’

Tallis gave a fuller account, explaining how a conversation with the wife of the general manager of the LNWR had aroused suspicion. It was painful for him to admit that they owed gratitude to a woman and a retired engine driver, especially as the two of them were related to Colbeck. Mayne had no such reservations. Once he knew all the facts, he praised Caleb Andrews for his perspicacity.

‘Have you thanked the fellow?’ he asked.

‘I’ve not yet had the chance to do so, Sir Richard.’

‘Make sure that you do. But for a stroke of luck, we’d be wholly ignorant of the fact that a conspiracy is afoot against the royal family.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I must visit the palace at once. They need to be informed immediately.’

‘I’ll be happy to accompany you,’ volunteered Tallis.

‘There’s no need for that. You can stay here.’

Tallis got up and opened the door for him. ‘What am I to do?’

‘The obvious thing is to get in touch with Mr Renwick. He needs to know that the burglary at his house had a darker motive than mere theft. And he must be told that secrecy is imperative.’

‘I’ve already sent Colbeck on that particular errand,’ said Tallis, hoping that his initiative would be rewarded with approval. ‘The inspector has met Mr Renwick before. I dispatched him in case you wanted me to go with you to the palace.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ said Mayne. ‘I need nobody to hold my hand, Superintendent. Still,’ he went on, ‘you have done something right today. Given the circumstances, Colbeck is the ideal man to talk to Archibald Renwick.’

After a space of several years, Renwick was pleased to see Colbeck again. When his visitor raised the subject of the celebration dinner, the general manager said how much he’d enjoyed meeting Madeleine and her father. Colbeck then informed him that the burglary at his home might be connected with a plot to assassinate members of the royal family. Renwick dismissed the claim out of hand at first. It sounded preposterous. After hearing about the investigation into the train crash on the Caledonian Railway, however, he soon changed his mind. As the truth dawned on him, he took a few steps backwards and rested against his desk for support. Still unsettled by the burglary, he was stunned when it took on a more sinister aspect.

They were in the drawing room in the general manager’s house, a Regency mansion set in two acres of well-tended grounds. Renwick was a conscientious man. Colbeck had discovered that when they first became acquainted. A train robbery on the LNWR had brought the detective to the house on that occasion. This time, it was a potential crime of much greater magnitude.

‘This is terrifying,’ said Renwick, using a handkerchief to dab at his brow. ‘My wife will be mortified when she hears about this.’

‘Don’t tell her, sir.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’d only make her suffer the torments you’re experiencing. Spare her that agony. There’s nothing that Mrs Renwick can do to protect the royal family. Her contribution has already been made, inadvertent though it was. In talking to my wife about the burglary, she indirectly brought this conspiracy to our attention. Grateful as I am, I wouldn’t distress Mrs Renwick by telling her so. The time for that will be when the danger is past.’

‘I agree,’ said Renwick after consideration. ‘Isobel has a nervous disposition. Out of kindness, she needs to be kept in the dark. Thank goodness you came to warn me, Inspector,’ he continued, visibly sweating now. ‘I’ll have the royal train cancelled immediately.’

‘I’d advise against that, sir.’

‘We can’t jeopardise the lives of the Queen and her family.’

‘We can’t catch those behind this plot unless we can lure them out into the open,’ said Colbeck, ‘and that means allowing the present arrangements to stay in place. If Prince Albert and Her Majesty want to postpone the trip to Balmoral, then we’ll bow to their decision but I have a curious feeling that they won’t do that.’ He took a step closer. ‘There’s no need to tell you that discretion is everything. The fewer people who know the truth, the better it will be. It’s another reason why Mrs Renwick must not be told. Confine the facts to a small circle.’

Renwick nodded before dabbing at his brow again with the handkerchief. He tried to remain calm but his heart was pounding and his brain racing. If he sanctioned the departure of the royal train on the agreed date, he could be sending some of its occupants to their deaths. Guilt coursed through him and made him shudder.

‘Why attack the train
there
?’ he asked. ‘It doesn’t make sense. When they reach Aberdeen, the royal party has to travel fifty miles to Balmoral by carriage. They’re much more vulnerable to an ambush there.’

‘I’m aware of that, sir.’

‘Why pick on a stretch of the Caledonian?’

‘It’s something that’s causing anguish to its general manager,’ said Colbeck. ‘He always believed that that disaster could never occur in the same place twice. Apparently, it can. Mr Craig is bracing himself for the second catastrophe.’

‘He can’t possibly protect every inch of the line.’

‘Quite so – it’s far too long. A whole army of policemen couldn’t defend it. In any case, their presence would alert the conspirators.’

‘Who
are
they, Inspector?’

‘We’ve yet to discover that, sir.’

‘Basically, then,’ said Renwick with alarm, ‘you know nothing whatsoever about these people beyond the fact that their target is the royal family. You don’t know where they come from or what their motive is. You haven’t any real suspects so there’s nobody you can arrest. They can cause a train crash then vanish without trace. More to the point,’ he went on, despair creeping in, ‘they can enter my house and somehow open a safe and you haven’t the slightest idea how they did it.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mr Renwick.’

‘They’re ahead of you at every stage.’

‘Put more trust in us than that, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘The burglary not only gave us our first real advance in the investigation, it identified a suspect.’

‘How did it do that?’

‘Show me your safe and I’ll explain.’

Renwick took him along a passageway and into the study, a large room with a mahogany desk, furniture and bookshelves. The shelves were crammed to capacity with matching volumes. On the one bare wall were some family portraits. Colbeck studied each of the bookshelves as if noting the titles.

‘How did the burglar know where to
find
the safe?’ asked Renwick. ‘It’s cleverly hidden. Well,
you’d
have no idea where it is, would you?’

‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, ‘I would, sir, because my father was a cabinetmaker and I grew up learning about secret drawers in desks and hidden alcoves in walls. My guess would be that your safe is here.’

Taking hold of the edges of a bookcase, he pulled hard and it revolved outwards on hinges to reveal a large iron safe set into the brickwork.

Renwick was sobered. ‘You did that so easily.’

‘No more easily than the burglar, sir. Housebreakers know all the favourite places for a safe. The study is one of them. It’s where one needs important documents and correspondence at hand. Once inside this room, the burglar would have located the safe in a matter of seconds.’

‘But he then had to open it,’ said Renwick, puzzled. ‘When it was installed, I was assured that it was impossible to open without a key.’

‘Then you were misinformed,’ said Colbeck. ‘There are people – blessedly few in number – who have a remarkable talent for opening any safe, no matter how solid and well constructed it might be.’

‘This is a Chubb safe, reputedly one of the best available.’

‘It was a good choice, sir, but it’s not entirely
burglarproof
. Are you familiar with the controversy at the Great Exhibition regarding famous locksmiths?’

‘I can’t say that I am.’

‘An American gentleman named Alfred Hobbs visited the exhibition. He was a notable locksmith and he astounded everyone by picking one of the best Chubb locks in
twenty-five
minutes. Then there was the famous Bramah lock that had been on display in a London showroom since 1790. Everyone who’d tried to pick it,’ said Colbeck, ‘had failed. It presented a more difficult challenge to Mr Hobbs but he did eventually succeed after forty-four hours. It wouldn’t have taken him that long to open your safe, Mr Renwick. He would have been in and out of this study within ten minutes.’

‘Yet you say that this fellow was a legitimate locksmith.’

‘Fortunately, he was. On the wrong side of the law, he’d have been a menace. His visit to this country caused uproar among bankers and insurance companies who believed existing locks were perfectly secure. They persuaded the Royal Society of Arts to offer a prize for a strong and utterly reliable lock. The winner of the competition was a locksmith named Saxby,’ recalled Colbeck. ‘But there was an unforeseen defect in his work.’

‘What was that?’

‘Alfred Hobbs picked it within three minutes.’

‘Dear me!’ exclaimed Renwick.

‘Fortunately, Mr Hobbs returned to America. But there are other people with similar skills. In some cases, they’ve worked in the lock trade before turning to crime. That’s true of the man I have in mind.’

Renwick’s hope stirred. ‘You
know
who the burglar was?’

‘I could hazard a guess.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Your house is well protected,’ said Colbeck, ‘and this is a safe that would test an ordinary cracksman. If I wanted something inside it – and the conspirators obviously did – then I’d hire the best man available.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Patrick Scanlan. He worked as a locksmith in Willenhall up in the Midlands until he decided that there was more money to be made as a burglar. In the criminal underworld he’s well regarded.’

‘Then you must arrest him at once,’ demanded Renwick. ‘I want to see the villain who dared to violate the sanctity of my home. I want him caught and punished.’

‘We want him just as much as you, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘because he can tell us who hired him. As a rule, he’d never take such a risk in order to retrieve information about a train journey. It would be meaningless to Scanlan. He’d have been paid extremely well to enter your house – and, of course, there was the incidental bonus of the cash that you had in the safe.’

‘Why did he ignore my wife’s jewellery?’

‘Scanlan prefers to work alone. He never steals jewellery because he’d need a fence as an accomplice and that’s an unnecessary complication to him. His targets are money and secrets.’

‘What kind of secrets, Inspector?’

‘He’s a blackmailer as well as a thief. Safes tend to contain things of great value to their owner. In addition to valuables, there could be private correspondence intended for nobody else’s eyes. Do I need to explain?’

‘No, Inspector,’ said Renwick, virtuously. ‘There was nothing of that nature in my safe, I assure you. If this fellow
is
the burglar, he’ll have found no letters with which to embarrass me. How sure are you that Scanlan is the man you’re after?’

‘Anybody else would have stolen the jewellery as well.’

‘Do you know where to find him?’

‘I wish that we did, Mr Renwick. We’ve been after him for some time. The search will be intensified now. The first thing I did when I got to Scotland Yard this morning was to set it in motion. As we speak, Sergeant Leeming is leading the hunt for Patrick Scanlan.’

Refreshed and invigorated by a night in his own bed, Leeming set about his task with enthusiasm. He’d been given a couple of younger detectives to assist him and he sent them off to explore Scanlan’s known haunts. Months earlier, a description of the burglar had already been sent to every police station in London and occasional sightings of him had been reported. Scanlan, however, continued to evade arrest. Leeming began his search with two advantages. First, he was back on his home territory. A Londoner born and bred, he was at his happiest and most effective when working in the nation’s capital. Second, he’d actually met Patrick Scanlan. Most of those hunting for him were relying on the detailed description pinned up in the police station and Leeming knew how misleading that could be. Scanlan took care to change his appearance from time to time. When he wore a beard, he looked nothing like the man depicted on the noticeboards. A complete change of apparel – and he could afford an expensive tailor – transformed him. Other forms of disguise were also used to keep recognition at bay.