BLACKDOWN (a thriller and murder mystery) (28 page)

Thomas Blackdown rose from his plush red-velvet seat on hearing the resolute clicking of leather heels on hard marble tiles. Cornelius Reeve’s face was covered in an unwavering shroud of gravity as he strode directly up to him, his hands planted firmly behind his back.

‘We are ready for you now,’ Thomas, he said.

‘You have not made it clear why this meeting is taking place, Mr Reeve,’ he returned, ‘who it is I must meet, or why it takes place here.’

They stood in a corridor in the Royal Greenwich Observatory, the autumnal sun slanting in through the tall windows and bathing the walls and emphasising the green-patterned wallpaper. The building stood high on a hill in Greenwich Park, and Blackdown could make out the River Thames through the dried yellowed leaves of a spreading oak.

‘It is a matter of national importance,’ Reeve said, indicating with his hand down the corridor. ‘Shall we proceed? We do not wish to keep the foreign secretary waiting.’

‘Lord Castlereagh?’ he said.

‘Unless someone else has been appointed in his place,’ said Reeve, his failed attempt at humour.

‘What does he want with me?’ asked Blackdown as they passed through a door at the end of the corridor.

‘That is for Lord Castlereagh to say,’ he said, leading Blackdown through a maze of rooms and down more corridors. ‘You know, you caused me some trouble initially, Thomas. Your arrival in the town and subsequent investigations threatened to blow the lid on my cover and cripple two years of work.’

‘That much I worked out,’ said Blackdown. ‘It became obvious that my brother never left me anything in his will. Addison told me so. He was there at the signing of the will. That was down to you, trying to encourage me to leave.’

‘I had spies who told me you were coming to Blackdown.’

‘Which is why you had the money and clothes ready for me. Your bribery failed. Did you really think money and a fine wardrobe would be satisfaction enough, or sufficient reason to abandon the search for the truth behind my brother’s supposed murder?’

‘Money is a great persuader, ordinarily,’ he said. ‘I commend you for your unswerving sense of loyalty and honour. Or stubbornness, I cannot yet work out which.’

‘I do not understand why you did not pounce upon the Lupercal Club earlier. And who exactly was John Strutt? Was he working for you?’

‘We still had no idea of the true identity of the mysterious Ravenbard, or the full extent of his influence and intent. We simply needed more time to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, our little department – in jest we call it the Ministry of Shadows – had been set up in secret, even from other departments within government. It transpired that word of a revolutionary plot linked to the meetings of a clandestine club percolated through to the home secretary and he instigated a separate secret investigation of his own, sending John Strutt in as a spy. Strutt saw you as trouble and wanted you out of the way, so he arranged for you to be arrested on trumped-up charges to hold you in gaol so you wouldn’t be around to upset things. Or so he thought. Alas, with government it will always be the case that the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing. We did not know of Strutt’s work. He did not know of ours. The first I heard of his involvement was when word reached me from Ravenbard that he had discovered Strutt, and, fearing that it was getting a little too hot for comfort with the government getting too close and breathing down his neck, Ravenbard wanted the next meeting of the Lupercal Club to be the last. He sent word for me to smash the club and arrest its members.’

‘So why didn’t you arrest the man whom you thought to be Ravenbard that night, too?’

‘Because something wasn’t right. In effect, the arresting and interrogating the members of the club would put an immediate halt to any revolutionary plans. Why would someone request the undoing in one evening the work of many years and cripple any future plans? Why not simply pack up the club and send everyone away, lie low for a while till the time was ripe again? That is, unless revolution was never the original intention. Ravenbard was up to something else entirely. I decided to let him go so that we could determine what that something was. My communication channels to him were still very much open, so I would not lose him entirely, at least not in the short term. Letting him go free was a risk I had to take.’ He glanced at Blackdown, raised a brow. ‘But in the end you got to the bottom of it for me, and for that I am grateful. And I hope you will ultimately forgive me for having you arrested in outside your house such an unseemly manner. As you can understand, we need to keep our little department secret and my involvement in it just as secret. The Ravenbard affair never happened, as far as the public are concerned. And people had to believe you were guilty of murder from the outset so that we could set a trap for your brother before he fled the country.’

‘And my good name? You promised to restore it once this affair was over and done with. The country still thinks I have been hanged as a traitor.’

Reeve paused before a door. ‘Let us discuss your good name inside.’ He leant close to Blackdown’s ear. ‘Lord Castlereagh is an important man, Thomas. He helped defeat Napoleon and was present as principal diplomat at the Congress of Vienna at the conclusion of hostilities. He is leader of the House of Commons. A man possessed of a clear and astute mind, with an aversion to rebellion and revolution in any guise, and those that perpetrate it. As chief secretary he helped suppress the Irish rebellion of 1798 and helped us secure the Irish Act of Union. It is he, Thomas, that created the secret department I now inhabit and lead. Take heed of what he has to say to you, but you must remember that at times he can appear both distant and highly strung. Facets of a singular character.’

Reeve knocked and a voice bade them enter. A tall, slender man with greying mousey hair was standing at a window looking pensively outside. He turned swiftly to greet them. He was aged about fifty, thought Blackdown, with a well proportioned handsome face. His bright, searching eyes studied Blackdown from over a long straight nose; lifted as if sniffing the air when Blackdown approached. Like a woodland creature sensing the atmosphere, thought Blackdown.

‘Thomas Blackdown,’ he said, reaching out to shake his hand. His grip was firm but brief. His hands were clasped immediately behind him.

‘Lord Castlereagh,’ said Blackdown.

‘Do you like Flamsteed House?’ he asked. Blackdown looked perplexed. Lord Castlereagh raised a hand. ‘This is Flamsteed House, the original building designed by no other than Christopher Wren. The buildings you came through that make up the current Royal Greenwich Observatory are later additions.’

Blackdown cast an eye at Reeve who refrained from acknowledging it in any way.

‘Why am I here, Lord Castlereagh?’ Blackdown said bluntly.

‘Did you know that the observatory was the first purpose-built scientific research facility built in Britain?’

‘I did not,’ he admitted.

‘Originally built to facilitate a certain John Flamsteed’s work on stellar tables, and later the challenging business of time itself. That’s why I chose to meet you here, Mr Blackdown,’ he said crisply, eyeing him. ‘Observation and time – both are important. ‘You have told him of our own little club, Mr Reeve?’ he asked.

‘Yes, he knows of our secret department,’ replied Reeve, nodding slowly.

‘And of course, at all costs our Ministry of Shadows must stay secret, you do understand, Mr Blackdown?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Observation and time. In our country’s defence we observe and we provide timely intervention. For make no mistake, revolution and tyranny did not end with Napoleon’s demise. There are many who are eager to take up the sword, as membership and support of the Lupercal Club demonstrates. Many who will bring terror and outrage to the shores of this great nation. The object of Mr Reeve’s department is to offset that terror, to prevent it, and to see that its perpetrators answer for their heinous crimes.’ He lowered his gaze, turned away to face the window again, and Blackdown noticed how Castlereagh’s hands worked agitatedly together as if engaged in a brawl. ‘Many powerful men had been pulled into Ravenbard’s scheme, and though in the end there was never the real threat of revolution, it underlines the readiness, indeed willingness, of many to become involved in just such a venture. It has been in our interests to keep the Ravenbard business a complete secret, and for some of its members to go free.’

‘What?’ said Blackdown. ‘They willing plotted to bring down the very government you serve. I cannot believe the evidence of my own ears!’

Castlereagh raised a hand. ‘In return for their freedom they are divulging information that points to other seditious activities; activities beyond those of Ravenbard, though engendered by his exhortations. He has inadvertently opened up the doors for others to take up the challenge. That is where you come in, Mr Blackdown.’ He nodded at Reeve, who took up from where Castlereagh left off.

‘Your brother and Lord Tresham’s daughter were right in one respect, Thomas,’ said Reeve. ‘You undoubtedly have certain skills that our fledgling department can use. You have a sharp and intuitive mind, display extreme bravery more than most, and you are well versed in the use of a variety of weapons. More than that, you are a dead man. You do not exist anymore. A dead man walking. Think what an advantage that would be to us. You can become whoever you choose to become, whoever we need you to become.’

‘Are you trying to recruit me, Mr Reeve?’ Blackdown said.

‘I should have thought that was obvious.’ He drew in a breath. ‘We can never acknowledge your part in recent events, for those events never happened. Bringing you back from the dead will be difficult to explain, if not impossible. But think seriously on it – you have no ancestral home, it is burned to the ground; you have little land left, the remainder being sold to cover the last of your father’s debts. We can arrange for you to be rewarded financially, and even set you up with an annual pension somewhere of your choosing, but you cannot go back to being who you were. Thomas Blackdown is dead and gone. On the other hand, you can work for the government. For me.’

Blackdown sighed and his lips tightened. ‘It appears I have little choice.’

‘We would welcome your help,’ Thomas, Reeve said.

‘And what of Lord Tresham? Has he been arrested?’

‘He has,’ said Castlereagh. ‘But it can be arranged otherwise.’

‘Set him free. He was forced into this, thinking he was springing to the defence of his daughter. A daughter who betrayed him. Set him free and you shall have my services.’

‘It is done,’ said Castlereagh.

‘Another thing…’ said Blackdown.

‘Are there to be many more conditions?’ asked Reeve impatiently.

‘The woman called Sarah Jones who helped us create the gallows illusion, and the man named Callisto…’

Reeve said, ‘What of them?’

‘They should each receive a pension.’

‘That is not possible,’ said Reeve.

‘It is done,’ said Castlereagh, cutting over him. ‘So we have your agreement, Mr Blackdown?’

‘You have my agreement,’ he replied.

Reeve, for the first time, smiled broadly and held out a hand for Blackdown to shake.

‘Welcome to the Ministry of Shadows, Mr Blackdown!’ he said. Then his brows crumpled into a frown. ‘So, down to work. We have uncovered a plot to assassinate the king…’

Thomas Blackdown will return…

Dear Reader,

Thank you for purchasing ‘BLACKDOWN’.

It’s been late in coming, I know (I really had to get with the times), but you can now follow me on Facebook, and D M Mitchell at Twitter @dmtheauthor for news on latest releases, free book offers and general stuff! I’d love to hear your thoughts on Thomas Blackdown and how his new career should progress!

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Yours,

Daniel M. Mitchell.

By D. M. Mitchell

Novels:

Max

Silent

Mouse

Blackdown

After the Fall

The Soul Fixer

Flinder’s Field

Pressure Cooker

Latimer’s Demon

The Domino Boys

The King of Terrors

Armageddon Heights 

Archangel Hawthorne

The Ashenby Incident

The House of the Wicked

The Woman from the Blue Lias

The First D. M. Mitchell Thriller Omnibus

The Second D. M. Mitchell Thriller Omnibus

The D.M. Mitchell Supernatural Double Bill

Short Stories:

Rabbits

Mulligan’s Map

The Pen of Manderby Pincher

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