Blood Tribute (The Lucas Gedge Thrillers Book 1) (14 page)

H
ugh Garland had been puzzling
over who else was keeping an eye on Rondeau and Gedge, and neglecting his own duties in that direction. His thoughts had turned to the Special Branch officer Garrett Naseby. And now, as he signed the register at the front desk in the Queen Anne’s Gate office, he saw the Irishman limping down the stairs, and making for the desk himself.

‘Hello, Naseby.’

The Special Branch man was startled, evidently concentrating on other things.

‘Major Garland. What a nice surprise. You coming in, me going out.’

‘Are you still working with us?’

‘You know how it is in this game, Major. I can’t tell you much. Just briefing the Colonel on a rather delicate matter.’

‘As I’ve bumped into you, can you confirm that your men are no longer involved in surveilling Lucas Gedge?’

‘I can. Yes, we stopped watching him when the Colonel handed you the reins. Any luck re-recruiting the rogue warrior?’

‘Not yet. It’ll have to be handled with care. Especially after that cock-up at the zoo.’

‘Indeed. Still, I’m sure you’re just the man for such a delicate operation, Major. Well, I must be going. I’ll be leaving London in a couple of days.’

‘Really? Back to the Emerald Isle?’

Naseby laughed. ‘I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be a good idea for me at the moment. Somewhere on the continent, I expect. But again, can’t say much, old chap.’

He signed himself out and took his leave. Garland stared after him. He found Naseby’s whole manner objectionable, but there wasn’t anything in what he’d said to heighten his suspicions. But as soon as Naseby had passed through the door into the street, the desk clerk, a young officer called Oliver Greenaway, spoke.

‘Sir…’

‘Yes, Greenaway? What is it?’

‘What he said there, sir. Well, it isn’t quite true. Sorry to listen in on your conversation.’

‘Not at all. What do you mean? What isn’t true?’

‘The part about no longer being concerned with that man Gedge.’

‘What the devil do you know about that?’

‘Beg pardon, sir, but my cousin’s a trainee detective over at Leman Street station. Inspector Naseby is based there, too, with several other Special Branch men. They’ve taken over an office for themselves. Nobody there really knows what they’re up to, skulking about…’

‘I’m not interested in police gossip, Greenaway. Please get to the point.’

‘Sorry, sir. The point is, my cousin overheard him talking to one of his men about changing shifts, about keeping watch on someone. And the names Gedge and Rondy came up.’

‘It’s Rondeau, but go on.’

‘That’s it, sir. My cousin only took notice because those men are careful to stay tight-lipped. Don’t even pass the time of day with the regular bobbies, or the detectives. It was the only time anyone had heard them let slip anything about what they might be doing there. When I heard Inspector Naseby mention the name Gedge just now, I thought it might be significant.’

A broad smile broke out on Garland’s face. ‘You might just be correct about that, Greenaway. Tell me, you’ve worked in the records section down below. Do we have files on the troubles with the Fenians some years ago, and more specifically the efforts to undermine them?’

He looked excited. ‘You mean the Special Irish Branch, sir? Yes sir. I could—’

‘No, Greenaway. I’ll take it from here. It’s our good fortune that your cousin overheard what he did, and that you connected it with what you in turn picked up just now. You seem to be a family of snoopers! But in this case, that’s a good thing. Now, I need you to keep this strictly to yourself. Do not on any account mention this to anyone else, even your cousin. Do you hear me?’

‘No, sir. I mean yes, sir. I hear you. I won’t breathe a word.’

‘You’ve done well, and after this business is over, I’ll make sure those upstairs know it.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Garland walked away from the desk, the smile returning to his face. As he took the stairs leading down to the basement, he muttered under his breath.

‘Naseby, you bastard.’

I
t had been
a busy and rewarding day for Gedge, so far. Young Simeon had been handy in alerting the police to the trussed-up villains at the railway arch. He had little doubt that they would find ample evidence—both in the form of the goods stored there, but also in office paperwork—to send Bacchus to jail for quite some time. Of course, the redhead was a rank amateur in comparison to London’s real underworld bosses. But the termination of his activities had been smooth and effective, and it was the first time since setting foot in the capital that Gedge had felt pride in a job well done.

But he couldn’t rest on his laurels. What Gedge had heard about Vic Musgrave hardly gave him confidence, yet he was the single tenuous thread that connected to Hannah. If Musgrave didn’t agree to the meeting at 7 o’clock tonight—as requested in the note he’d been left—Gedge would have to go looking for him.

He took lunch at The Admiral Jervis and told Frank Hoyte about his encounter with Bacchus. The innkeeper, suitably relieved, offered to waive Gedge’s rent for the room, but he refused.

B
ack at White Lion Street
, Gedge reported on his morning’s activities, receiving much acclaim for dealing with his landlord’s tormentor.

‘We had a visitor here this morning,’ said Polly. ‘Inspector Cross.’

‘About Frowde’s death?’

‘Yes,’ said Rondeau. ‘I don’t like having to lie to him. Pretending that Harry’s death was news to us.’

‘It wasn’t really lying, father,’ said Polly. ‘Just not volunteering the truth.’

‘That is too fine a distinction for me. But it was necessary, I know. He is also suspicious about the dead body in the window, from your previous visit to Bethnal Green, Lucas. Still, he can’t be sure that the man you bested was one of Ackerman’s thugs. I am afraid he sees this mess spiralling out of control.’

‘We can’t afford to tell the police about Musgrave,’ said Gedge. ‘They might scare him off.’

Rondeau clasped Gedge’s shoulders. ‘I know, my friend. Do not be concerned. I retain my fortitude.’

I
t was mid-morning
. They had been brought their meagre breakfast and it had been collected again. Hannah felt it was unlikely they would get another visit from their captors for a while, and she decided to use the time to probe the trapdoor.

Quietly and carefully, she used her nail file to scrape away at the crack, gradually working her way round the rectangle. There was no doubt she was making the outline of the trapdoor more obvious, and if any of their captors took the trouble to look up when they entered the room, the game would be over.

She hit metal. A silvery glint showed through. Surely the catch that would allow the trapdoor to be opened. If she could just get it working.

She climbed down from Esther’s bed and sat on her own. The girls’ friendship had soured since Hannah’s thoughts had turned to escape, as Esther seemed to want nothing to do with it. But now they needed to talk.

‘Esther, can I ask you something?’

‘What?’

‘If there was a way out of here, would you come with me? We need to try to do something! We can’t just let them do what they want with us.’

‘But I’m sure there are people looking for us. They’ll save us.’

‘How will they know where we are?’

‘What about your father? If he used to be a soldier, he’ll know what to do.’

‘I still don’t see how he’ll know that we’re here. I managed to drop something on the pavement when I was taken, but the chances of someone finding it must be small. And anyway, they want us for some reason. They won’t kill us for trying to escape, even if we get caught.’

‘How can you be sure? And they could hurt us for it. It’s no good, Hannah. I can’t do it.’

Hannah sighed and sank back down onto the bed. She didn’t have many minutes to brood before she heard steps outside and the door was unlocked and opened.

Vera strode into the room, with a tray containing their meal. Hannah had no great hopes for the taste or nutritional value, but it was something at least. A thug lurked behind her in the hall.

‘Keeping quiet, I see,’ said Vera. ‘That’s good. Just how I like it. Here’s your grub. All good wholesome stuff, cooked by yours truly.’ She plonked the tray on the table, looking from one girl to the other as if expecting some appreciation. None was forthcoming.

‘Now, I’ve got some news for you. You’ve only got one more day with me and you’ll be on your way to pastures new. Tomorrow evening you’ll be off to actually do some work, instead of sitting about here all day. Before you go, you’ll need to clean yourselves up. We’ll get your hair done, and find you some nice new frocks. I’m a pretty good judge of sizes.’

Hannah stared at her. ‘What for? Where are you taking us?’

‘Won’t be me that’s taking you, and I can’t say where you’re going either. You’ll need to look your best. All I’ll say is that when you get where you’re going, just play along with whatever’s required. Those who do that tend to get through it better than those who make trouble.’

‘Play along with what? What is it that will be required?’

‘I’ve already said too much. Just be prepared. Take heed of what I say. Don’t be a troublemaker.’

She swept out, locking the door behind her.

H
awksmoor’s Christ Church
was the key landmark in the Spitalfields area. The building loomed above the modest residential housing, and the white steeple dominated the skyline wherever you were in the surrounding streets. For the second time in a day, Gedge strode through the imposing portico, with its huge pillars, and quietly opened the church door.

The interior was a cavernous space. Gedge guessed about 90 feet long, and at least 80 feet high. Further tall pillars ran down each side of the nave, separating the main central area from the narrow and secluded bays at left and right.

At this time of the morning, the church was almost deserted. An elderly woman sat in one of the pews in the central portion, deep in contemplation. As Gedge walked further along the central aisle, another figure came into view, sitting in the left-hand bay, exactly at the spot where Gedge had hidden the message from Frowde. The man’s appearance was just as Frowde had described.

Gedge could see that Musgrave had already been drinking. His head was lolling about as though it wasn’t rigidly connected to his body.

‘Mr Musgrave?’

He looked up, startled. ‘Are you Gedge? I’ve taken a chance even showin’ up here, with Mr Frowde dead.’

‘Yes, I’m Lucas Gedge. I appreciate the risk you’re running. But perhaps the loss of Harry Frowde demonstrates the urgency of sharing whatever you might know about the abductions. That, and the fact that my daughter is one of the girls they’ve taken. And, if you help me, I’ve got something for you.’ Gedge opened his coat a little and allowed Musgrave a glimpse of a gin bottle that he had tucked away.

Musgrave pursed his lips. ‘Go on then, ask your questions.’

‘Please start from the beginning, from when you first heard about the goings-on. Whatever you think is related to the current disappearances.’

‘I expect you’ve heard about my former employment with the force, and the fact that after I left I became an informer for the Leman Street boys. Some years ago, I started hearing tales. Stories of “parties” as they liked to call ’em. I’m talkin’ up-market stuff, high-born people. They’re the worst, really. Drinkin’, drugs, orgies, the kind of thing that’d upset your stuck-up middle-class newspaper reader, but to us men of the world…’ He elbowed Gedge as if to make a point. ‘Nothing very dramatic. But there was more to it.

‘Girls were brought to these affairs. None of your unwashed whores off the street, but nice lasses who’d had a bit of an education. I got to hear about one of these girls who’d been at a few of the parties. She’d had a bad time of it and was shootin’ her mouth off in a pub. She said some of the toffs went a bit far. Sadism and the like. Peculiar games where they half-choked her ’cos it’s supposed to turn you on. She disappeared before I could find out any more. But a friend of hers, Martha, I did meet. She told me even worse things. She reckoned at least one girl had been killed. Many of the others had disappeared, and she thought they’d been sold on, maybe even taken abroad.’ Musgrave gripped the back of the pew in front, his knuckles white.

‘You said that was some years ago. Is there any connection to what’s going on now?’

‘I reckon so. The stories back then died down. Apparently, the parties stopped. But there was something that Martha talked about that kept naggin’ at me. Two things, really. Two people. That was the scariest thing for her, the knowledge of who they were. One was what you might call an agent. He seemed to be the one who organised the dirty work. Findin’ the girls in the first place, movin’ them about, sortin’ out anyone who stepped out of line. She said he was an evil sod, and she was told by a girl who’d had the misfortune to spend the night with him that he was ex-army. He boasted about how many men he’d killed. He said he was with the Grenadiers.’

‘That’s right, he was. His name’s Ackerman. We know about him.’

‘Maybe so, but if anything, the other one was worse. Martha said there was no point goin’ to the police, ’cos Ackerman’s gang was workin’ with someone else. Someone not
in
the police as such, but
above
the police, as she put it. Whoever this was, he wasn’t just turnin’ a blind eye, he was actually workin’ with the agent in settin’ the whole thing up, arranging the clients that got involved in all the business. Mr Frowde’s newspaper reports about these latest goin’s-on make me think the same thing’s started up again. That’s why I was talkin’ to him.’

‘So who was this man, who was “above the police”?’

‘I’m not sure if she knew his name, but she’d certainly found out a bit about him. I tried to get more out of her, but she was too scared.’

Gedge fixed Musgrave with a stare, and rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder.

‘Vic, what happened to Martha?’

‘She moved away. I don’t blame her. She went to stay with an uncle in Hastings for a while, but then she moved on, to Dungeness in Kent. Ever been there? Bloody place, it’s like the end of the world. Gawd knows how she stands it.’

‘Have you got an address for Martha, in Dungeness?’

‘Yes, such as it is.’ He stopped talking and looked Gedge in the eye.

‘Well, what is it, man?’

‘Just promise me, if you go down there, you’ll look after her. It’d kill me if I thought tellin’ you all this could bring harm to Martha.’

‘I give you my word, Vic. My friends and I will keep her safe. She’ll never be able to relax with the gang still free to operate. The best way of restoring order to everyone’s lives is to put them out of business, with the help of both you and Martha.’

 ‘Alright. The address is simple enough. It’s Hope Cottage, Dungeness. It’s somewhere right in the middle of that wasteland of shingle, right near the sea.’

‘Do you think she has any idea where they might be holding the girls now?’

‘If it’s the same place, maybe. But that was another thing she refused to tell me, even though I told her I could make it hot for ’em, with or without the help of the coppers. Too many bad memories, she said. Eventually, I let it lie. Pity. Could’ve stopped other young ladies being taken, includin’ your daughter.’

‘You might also have got yourself killed. There’s no point looking back now. I’m going to go down to Dungeness, find out what Martha knows. In the meantime, you need to lie low. Don’t attract the attention of Ackerman, or the police for that matter. We’ll soon have this sorted out.’

‘You’ll have your work cut out. But I wish you luck, son.’

Gedge handed the gin bottle to Musgrave and hurried out of the church. Looking back, he noticed his informant already taking a furtive sip.