Peril on the Royal Train (8 page)

‘Indeed, we do.’

‘Then I’d be grateful if you could check through the list.’

‘That’s what I’m doing, Sergeant,’ said Mudie, going slowly from one name to another. ‘I can’t see any link at the moment. I wish that I could. Ah – wait a moment,’ he added, tapping the page. ‘This looks promising.’

‘Go on.’

‘There
is
a connection, after all.’

‘Who is it with?’

‘Jock Laidlaw – he was assaulted by another driver some weeks ago and the attacker was dismissed on the spot. Superintendent McTurk was a witness to the assault.’

‘Yes,’ said Leeming through gritted teeth, ‘we’ve met the superintendent.’

‘He’d be able to tell you more about the incident.’

‘What was the name of the other man?’

‘Lackey Paterson.’

‘Do you have an address for him?’

‘I can give you his last known address, Sergeant.’

‘Thank you,’ said Leeming. ‘You’ve been very helpful. We need to eliminate this fellow from our enquiries. If I can’t track down Paterson, I’d like the names of employees who might have worked with him and who knew Jock Laidlaw as well. With respect to your ledger, Mr Mudie, it merely records the bare facts. I suspect that there was more to the assault on Laidlaw than appears there. Now, could I have that address, please?’

‘You can have more than that,’ said Mudie with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ll take you there. Glasgow is a rabbit warren. You’d never find your way around alone.’

While work to clear the crash site continued in earnest, Robert Colbeck explored the immediate surroundings. Armed with an ordnance survey map, he started at the point immediately above the point of collision and walked due east. What he was looking for was the likely route taken by anyone coming to cause an explosion. A nearby copse offered possible cover and he first investigated that, picking his way through the trees and searching the ground as he did so. It was slow and laborious work but it eventually yielded a dividend. In the shade of a pine tree, he found a depression in the grass that suggested something had been stored there for a while. When he knelt down to examine the flattened-out area, he saw a telltale trickle of powder. Whoever had blocked the line had first hidden small barrels of gunpowder in the copse. He could still see their circular bases described in the grass.

It would have taken no more than five minutes to carry the gunpowder to the edge of the rock that overlooked the line. Colbeck had the feeling that more than one person was involved. To avoid any chance of being seen, they could have stored the gunpowder in place during the night then set off the blast shortly before the goods train was due to arrive. A loud boom from the quarry echoed across the whole area and told him that stone was being harvested for a less lethal purpose. After covering every inch of the copse, Colbeck stepped out into the sunshine and gazed around. Sheep could be seen grazing in the distance but there was no sign of any human beings. Yet he felt somehow that he was being watched. It was an odd sensation.

In his top hat and frock coat, he was an incongruous figure in a rural landscape and might be expected to attract attention. Nobody, however, was in sight. Though he looked in every direction, he failed even to get a glimpse of someone. He recalled the earlier occasion when he felt that he was under surveillance by a figure high above him on the hill. That person – if he were ever there – had melted into invisibility. There were many places to hide ahead of Colbeck. The rolling countryside created dips and hollows where a person could easily be concealed. He walked towards them, expecting that, at any moment, someone would pop up into view. But it never happened. He was utterly alone.

Yet the further he went, the more convinced he became that a pair of eyes was on him. The observation did not feel friendly. He stopped, bided his time, removed his top hat and ran a hand through his hair. Pretending to scan the landscape in front of him, he suddenly swung round on his heel and looked directly behind him. Colbeck was just in time to see someone dive unceremoniously behind a bush. There was no need to speculate on whom it might be. The uniform gave the man away.

It was Superintendent McTurk.

Tam Howie conducted his visitor into his office and closed the door behind him. Ian Dalton had called on a fellow merchant but he hadn’t come to discuss business. They were committed members of the same kirk and Dalton had been present at the meeting when Howie had tried to persuade the others to take more extreme action against the railway companies. He was one of the two converts to Howie’s cause. Younger and stockier than his friend, Dalton had grown tired of their lack of success in the battle against the desecration of the Sabbath.

‘You spoke well the other day, Tam,’ he said.

‘Not well enough to win the argument, I’m afraid. The rest of them are like Gregor Hines – too old and too frightened to do what’s needful. It fair sickens me, Ian,’ complained Howie. ‘When we have the means at our disposal to strike with real effect, why don’t we use it?’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘It’s not as if we can’t afford it.’

‘Quite so, Tam – my pockets are deep enough.’

‘And so are mine. What better way to spend our money?’

Both men made a comfortable living by importing and selling goods during the week. On Sunday, however, they transacted no business. That would have been morally wrong on the day of rest. Their Sabbath was devoted to attendance at kirk services and Bible-reading. Their respective children had been brought up to maintain that tradition. Because they were keen market rivals, Howie and Dalton didn’t see much of each other socially. What brought them together was a shared purpose.

‘You were right,’ said Dalton. ‘We must do more.’

‘Some of us have already moved in that direction,’ confessed Howie. ‘We’d wait until Doomsday until Gregor and the rest of the old guard finally see sense. I just won’t stand by and watch the trains run all over Scotland on the Sabbath.’

‘What have you done, Tam?’

‘That’s between Flora and me.’

Dalton was taken aback. ‘Are you saying that your
wife
is involved?’

‘Aye – she’s involved right up to the hilt.’

‘Good for her!’

‘Flora is as passionate a devotee of the cause as I am.’

‘We’re lucky to have two such people in our midst,’ said Dalton. ‘The others may not want to follow your example but I certainly do. If there’s work for my hands, just tell me what it is.’

‘That depends on how far you’re prepared to go, Ian.’

‘I’ll go all the way.’

‘Even if it means breaking the law?’

‘Even then, Tam – you have my word. After all, Jesus broke the law when he felt that it was right to do so. We only follow where he led. You can count on my unqualified support.’

‘Thank you,’ said Howie, grasping his hand and shaking it vigorously. ‘We need help, Ian. There’s a limit to what Flora and I can do alone.’

‘Rely on me from now on.’

‘You do realise the risk that you’re taking, don’t you?’

‘I’m a businessman. I take risks all the time.’

‘But you don’t usually flout the law when you’re doing so. Very well,’ he went on, ‘let’s take a little time to mull this over. Each of us can decide what we prefer to do to make the railway companies sit up and take notice. Be bold, Ian,’ he said, bunching a fist. ‘This is no time for faint hearts.’

‘I can be bold when the need arises,’ boasted Dalton.

‘Then let’s leave it at that. Flora will be delighted by the news. We had the feeling that you inclined towards us.’

‘It’s the only way to show how serious we are in our beliefs. If we cause embarrassment to the railway and – if at all possible – wreak havoc, people will pay heed to our point of view.’

‘It’s not people whom we have to convince,’ said Howie. ‘It’s the Caledonian and the North British and the Edinburgh to Glasgow and all the other companies who need convincing. We have to make them think that it’s too dangerous to run trains on a Sunday. That will mean a long and bitter campaign.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Are you with us, Ian Dalton?’

‘I’m with you every step of the way,’ promised the other.

Victor Leeming was accustomed to seeing poverty and deprivation in the teeming rookeries of London. Even so, he was shocked by what he found in the Gorbals. Back-to-back tenements offered drab accommodation to families with what seemed like armies of children. The streets were alive with them, playing, arguing, threatening, fighting or learning how to steal. Stray cats and dogs abounded. Street vendors were getting short shrift from penniless housewives. The noise was deafening and the stench overpowering. Leeming was glad that he had a guide but it was John Mudie who was the more grateful. Venturing into the Gorbals was like stepping into a swamp for him. Whenever anyone brushed against him, his nervous laugh turned into a squeak of fear. Leeming saved him from physical assault and from the depredations of pickpockets. The sergeant fended off trouble at every turn.

The address they had took them to a tenement on the corner of a lane. It was a larger building than the average and there was less filth on the pavement outside. A woman was sitting outside the door on a stool, dandling a baby on her knee. From a distance, she looked quite old. When they got closer, however, they saw that she was barely out of her twenties, with the remains of a dark prettiness. It was the rounded shoulders and air of weariness that added years to her. She looked up at them with dull eyes then nursed the baby as it began to cry.

‘It’s no’ the day for the rent,’ she said, rancorously.

‘We’re not here to collect anything,’ explained Mudie. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, we are but the only thing we’re after is information.’

‘We’re looking for Mr Lackey Paterson,’ said Leeming.

‘And who might ye be?’ she asked.

‘We’re acting on behalf of the Caledonian Railway.’

‘Ha!’ she said with contempt. ‘Dinna mention them to me.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I’m Lackey’s wife. It was the Caledonian as sacked him.’

‘That’s what we came to discuss, Mrs Paterson. Where can we find him?’

‘Your guess is as guid as mine.’

‘Does he have a job somewhere?’

‘If he does,’ she said with vehemence, ‘he’ll no be telling me about it. Lackey’s no’ ma mahn any more. He doesnae live wi’ me now. I’ve to bring the bairn up on ma own.’

As if it heard what she said, the baby’s howl became so piteous that Mudie felt obliged to put a hand into his waistcoat pocket and take out a few coins. When he thrust them into her hand, he got no thanks. She simply glared at him.

‘Is your husband a violent man?’ asked Leeming.

‘I told ye. He’s no’ ma husband any more.’

‘Was he likely to get into fights when he was here?’

‘In a place like this, ye have to fight to get by,’ she said, ruefully. ‘Lackey was as ready wi’ his fists as any of ’em. I should know. I felt ’em often enough.’

It accounted for the scar over one eye and for the strange lump on her temple. Mudie had to master the impulse to give her more money to assuage his feeling of guilt. The woman was poor, helpless and abandoned. It was a life of drudgery.

Leeming probed. ‘Have you any idea – any idea at all – where your husband might be, Mrs Paterson? It’s very important that we find him.’

She turned her head away. ‘What’s tha’ to me?’

‘We’re ready to pay for information,’ said Mudie, recklessly. He dug some more coins from his waistcoat pocket. ‘You must have some notion of where he is.’

‘I do, as it happens,’ she conceded, tempted by the promise of reward. She opened her palm and he dropped the money into it. ‘I can only tell ye what I’ve heerd,’ she warned. ‘The rumour is that Lackey left for a job further south.’

‘And where would that be, Mrs Paterson?’

‘It’s in a quarry.’

Many men had toiled to clear the line and their efforts had finally borne fruit. The debris had been shifted, fresh ballast and sleepers had been installed and new lengths of rail were being put in place. Within the hour, trains would be running normally again. There was still an immense amount of work to do, burning shattered wagons or reclaiming those that could be repaired. Some freight still needed to be salvaged but the interruption to services had at last been corrected. To meet the needs of the crew on site, an improvised kitchen had been set up, serving food and drink to the men during brief moments of respite. It was near the kitchen that Colbeck met up again with Inspector Rae. They exchanged greetings.

‘We’re almost done here,’ said Rae, looking around. ‘They’ve worked well.’

‘Do you feel you’ve learnt everything there is to learn here, Inspector?’

‘Yes, I do. The villains have long since fled the area. We must search elsewhere. I’ll start looking for them among employees of the North British.’

‘I wish you well,’ said Colbeck.

Rae smiled. ‘I can’t believe that you mean that.’

‘Indeed, I do. If you can track down the culprits, I’ll be the first to congratulate you. It’s just that I believe you are looking in the wrong place.’

‘Oddly enough, I could say the same about you. This crash has nothing to do with the personal lives of any of the three men on that train.’

‘We must agree to differ.’

‘You’ve sent Sergeant Leeming on a wild goose chase. He’ll find nothing of value at the headquarters of the Caledonian.’

‘You seem very well informed,’ said Colbeck.

‘I make it my business to be so.’

‘Is that why you set spies to watch on us? In future, I’d suggest you choose someone more skilled at the trade than Superintendent McTurk. When he trailed me this morning, I sensed at once that he was there.’

‘Well, it was not at my behest,’ said Rae, seriously. ‘If he followed you, he did so off his own initiative. It may just be that he was hoping to pick up a few tips from a famous detective. McTurk is very ambitious. He doesn’t intend to spend the rest of his life as a railway policeman.’