The Wages of Desire (40 page)

“I've no desire to become a casualty,” Lamb assured Rivers. He pulled the Webley from its holster and put the gun in the pocket of his jacket.

Carefully, Lamb moved to within an arm's length of the window and peeked inside. He saw Miss Wheatley sitting uncomfortably on the floor in the middle of the room, beneath the beam from which Claire O'Hare had hung herself. Tigue had gagged her mouth and, as Lilly had said, bound her ankles and wrists. A kerosene lantern sat by Miss Wheatley's feet, providing the only light in the room. Also on the floor, just in front of the lantern, stood the final figurine from the Britain's set of generals and field marshals: Arthur Wellesley, the first Duke of Wellington, the man who famously had defeated Napoleon at Waterloo.

Behind Miss Wheatley was the room's lone door, which opened onto the narrow hall. Lamb could not see Tigue from where he crouched but reasoned from what Lilly had told him that Tigue likely had positioned himself in a chair in the rear corner of the room.

He retreated to the place where Rivers and Wallace were waiting.

“He's bound and gagged Miss Wheatley in the middle of the room and set up the final figure from the Britain's set of generals on the floor next to her,” Lamb told the pair. “It's Wellington.”

“His Waterloo, then?” Wallace asked.

“Yes. But he doesn't intend to play the role of Napoleon. That was his brother's part. He's Wellington.”

“He'll shoot you as soon as you go in there,” Rivers insisted. “He's obviously mad.”

Cashen returned to report that Tigue indeed had parked the car in the lay-by and only partly endeavored to conceal it.

“If we don't move, he'll kill Miss Wheatley,” Lamb said. “He's come to the end of some sort of rope. He had planned to go away, to escape his life here, but Maureen Tigue's killing stymied that plan. Now he's killed his brother—defeated and outmaneuvered his Napoleon. He's desperate.”

“And mad—as I said,” Rivers repeated. “Let me go.”

“He wants me,” Lamb said. “He made that clear.”

“But we need a plan,” Rivers insisted. “You can't go in there unless we have a way to get you out, hostage or no.”

Lamb looked at Wallace and Rivers and made a quick decision that was similar to the decisions he'd made in the trenches of northern France many times—similar indeed to the decision he had made on the night that Eric Parker had been killed, which originally had turned Harry Rivers against him. But given the way in which he and Rivers had acted in concert to bring down Taney, Lamb had seen evidence enough that he could trust Rivers and that, more importantly, Rivers again had come to trust him. For that reason, and because of Rivers's superior experience in matters of combat, Lamb wanted Rivers manning the last line of attack—or defense, if it came to a shoot-out. He was not certain that if the thing came down to Wallace versus Tigue, Wallace could act in the cold-blooded manner it would require to stop Tigue. Also, Rivers, like himself, was no longer a young man, and Lamb needed a strong, youthful man for the role he envisioned for Wallace. The plan of attack that Lamb had decided upon was, like the one he'd employed to capture George Taney, little different from the raids across No Man's Land and into the German trenches that he and Rivers had conducted on the Somme. The difference this time was that Wallace—along with himself—was to act as the bait that drew the enemy out.

Lamb did not relish having to put Wallace in such a dangerous situation; indeed, he had done his best to keep Wallace away from the war and combat. But in addition to being young and exceptionally strong, Wallace was a trained policeman—and a good and brave one. Lamb was mindful of the fact that Wallace and Vera obviously had formed a mutual attraction and that, should Wallace end up hurt or killed in the operation, Vera might come to blame him for Wallace's death, as Rivers once had for Eric Parker's. But he could not allow such concerns to stand in the way of deploying his men in the best manner open to him. He was certain that Miss Wheatley's life depended upon himself and the others acting with intelligence and dispatch.

He sketched out his plan to the other two. He described for them the layout of the house's interior and the fact that it had but one way in or out—the back door. He assigned Rivers the job of stopping Tigue—killing him if all else had failed. Cashen was to second Rivers. However, before it came to that, Lamb would enter the house as Tigue had instructed and look for an opportunity in which Wallace could quickly enter the house and the two of them could overwhelm Tigue without any harm coming to Miss Wheatley. Wallace would arm himself with Lamb's pistol and would get as near to the house as he dared without alerting Tigue, moving only if and when Lamb gave the signal to do so.

The signal would be simple: Lamb simply would yell, “Go!” Because Lamb would be unarmed, Wallace's first job would be to ensure the neutralizing of Lawrence Tigue. Once that was accomplished, Rivers and Cashen would follow and see first to the safe removal of Miss Wheatley and only then to the assistance of Wallace and himself. Everything would depend on Wallace's initial rush. Simply put, he and Wallace would seek to outflank Tigue, just as he and Rivers had outflanked Taney. Once again, Lamb was to act as the lure, drawing Tigue's attention. In the end, though, if no opportunity arose in which Wallace could enter the house without harm coming to Miss Wheatley, then Wallace was to stand down and await developments with Rivers and Cashen. If Lamb went down, then Rivers was to take command and act as he saw best, keeping in mind that the ultimate goal was to save Miss Wheatley.

Lamb now turned to Wallace. “This job will be dangerous, David,” he said. “When you move, you must not hesitate. Your first job is to protect Miss Wheatley's life, then your own, then mine—in that order and in that order only.” Lamb fixed Wallace with his eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Wallace said simply.

Lamb handed his Webley and holster to Wallace and said, “Put this on.” He then turned to Cashen and Rivers, who had also armed himself with a Webley.

“I'm counting on you two as well, obviously,” he said. “I want to take him alive if we can, but if he wreaks havoc you must stop him.”

“Leave it to me,” Rivers said. Cashen merely nodded.

Lamb nodded in return.

“Good luck,” Rivers said and offered Lamb his hand—the first time he'd done so since the day of Eric Parker's death twenty-five years earlier.

“Thank you, Harry,” Lamb said, taking Rivers's hand. Then he turned toward the O'Hare house and said, “Now, I've got to go.”

THIRTY-SIX

LAMB MOVED TO A PLACE JUST BENEATH THE WINDOW OF THE
room in which Claire O'Hare had died.

“Mr. Tigue, it's Lamb,” he said. “I'm alone and unarmed. I'm going to enter through the rear door.”

He still could not see Tigue and hoped that Tigue would answer and give away his position—the same maneuver he'd used in ascertaining Taney's position.

Tigue obliged. “No tricks, Lamb,” he said. Tigue's voice came from the rear right corner of the room. “Any tricks and I shall kill Miss Wheatley.”

Lamb turned from the house to face the verge and underbrush. He could not see Rivers but knew that he was there, watching and waiting. Lamb pointed toward the rear right corner of the house, signaling to Rivers that Tigue was sheltering there. Rivers and Cashen then began to move stealthily toward the rear yard.

Lamb found the rear porch draped in darkness; its aging boards creaked as he stepped onto it and approached the shadowy outline of the back door. He pushed the door, which opened with an ostentatious creak. The interior of the house smelled powerfully of mildew and other decay. As he stepped into the narrow mudroom, the hall, shrouded in gloom, stretched before him to the front door, littered here and there with dark, indistinct detritus. The door to the room where Claire O'Hare had been found dead was a few meters away, on his left.

“Mr. Tigue,” he said. “I'm coming in.” Tigue did not answer.

Lamb moved up the hall and stood in the open doorway. He now saw Lawrence Tigue sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair in the right rear corner of the room. The faint light from the kerosene lantern illuminated Tigue's essential shape but little else; his face lay obscured in darkness. Between Tigue and Lamb, Miss Wheatley sat in the middle of the room, her head drooping a bit. She emitted a low, muffled sound from beneath her gag. Then, from the corner in which Tigue sat, Lamb heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked.

“Put your hands up, come into the room, and stand in the corner opposite me,” Tigue commanded. “If you force me to, I will kill you, Chief Inspector.”

Lamb did as Tigue ordered. Tigue stood and approached Lamb, holding the pistol. Lamb now saw that Tigue's right eye was swollen and dark—the result of Taney having punched Tigue in the face as they had argued in the lay-by on the previous night. Wordlessly, Tigue patted Lamb down and satisfied himself that Lamb was unarmed.

“Keep your hands up,” Tigue said. He returned to his seat in the corner. “Now, Chief Inspector, move to the window and turn to face the room.”

Lamb did as Tigue instructed, so that he stood with his back against the window.

Tigue smiled, slightly. “Now, if your colleagues are entertaining any ideas of making a sudden appearance through the window they will have to clear you out of the way first, and I rather think that they'd prefer not to do that.”

“Let Miss Wheatley go,” Lamb said. “You have me now; you don't need her.”

“But you and I both know that you wouldn't be standing here, unarmed, and risking your life, if it wasn't for the fact that I have Miss Wheatley.” At this, Miss Wheatley squirmed and emitted another muffled sound—a clear sound of protest and indignation, Lamb thought.

“What do you want?” Lamb asked.

“I want a boat and safe passage to Ireland. Just that—quite simple, I think, for you to arrange.”

“The Germans constantly watch the coast. Nothing goes to Ireland that's not in convoy. You'd be risking your life, even in a small boat.”

“I'm willing to take that risk.” Tigue nodded at Miss Wheatley. “I shall take her with me, of course. And you, as well. As insurance against your colleagues getting any ideas. But I give you my word that once I'm safely on Irish soil I shall release the both of you.”

“It can't work. You know that.”

“I know no such thing,” Tigue said, the tone of his voice rising a bit. He waved the pistol at Miss Wheatley. “It
will
work, Chief Inspector, and
you
will make it work. Or
she
will die.”

Lamb intended to keep Tigue talking, to stall and potentially lull him, and give Wallace a fighting chance at entering and besting Tigue. Lamb nodded at the Wellington figure on the floor, by Miss Wheatley's feet.

“You defeated your brother, as Wellington defeated Napoleon,” he said. “I read the note you left pinned to his body. I also know what you and George Taney and Maureen Tigue were doing—the forged ration coupons. And I know what Maureen did to you—how she treated you and how that must have humiliated you.” He hesitated, then added, “And I know that Algernon killed Tim Gordon.”

Lamb counted on Lawrence being proud of his defeat of his brother and therefore willing, and perhaps even eager, to speak of it.

Tigue smiled—a strange, slight, distant smile. He glanced at the Wellington figure.

“The toy generals belonged to Tim,” he said. “Algernon took them as a kind of memento of his first murder. He lured the boy to my aunt's farm and strangled him in the barn. Does that shock you, Lamb—that one as young as Algernon was then could have committed such a violent murder and for no other reason than he desired to? But that was Algernon. By the time he was twelve, he'd become extremely precocious—charming, smart, and very cunning, very aware of his own power. The young maths wiz. My mother loved him, you see. And he seduced and charmed her, just as he seduced so many others, including his victims. The only person whom he failed to charm—and therefore control—was myself.”

Tigue raised his chin, as if in a gesture of pride, then smiled again. “Algernon was very much like his father, you see,” he said. “The apple, as they say, never falls far from the tree.”

“His father was Sean O'Hare.”

“Yes. I knew, of course, that it was only a matter of time before you began to peel back the layers of the past.”

“Sean also was Maureen's father.”

“Very good, Lamb. You have done your homework.”

“Maureen was cruel, cold, calculating—just like her father and Algernon.”

“Yes.”

“But you joined her in the counterfeiting scheme.”

“I did so only for my own benefit. She was useful to me—her offer was useful. It suited my plans perfectly.”