The Darkest Hour (37 page)

Chapter 59

F
ROM HIS VANTAGE
point at the top of the road, Rossett watched Koehler bounce down the steps and out of the house. The clouds had let go and the fine drizzle clung to his face like oil as he looked back toward where the little Volkswagen was parked behind him, hidden on the corner among some other cars. Kate had stopped next to a school yard and some children were playing outside, oblivious to the rain. Rossett could see Jacob watching the children, wiping the side window with his sleeve occasionally.

He turned back to watch the troops mount up and the two vehicles pull away. He waited a moment, watching, thinking, then returned to the Volkswagen and climbed in.

“Did you see my Gloria?” Chivers pulled at his shoulder from the seat behind.

“No.”

“I need to check she’s all right.”

“You can’t.”

“I ’ave to!”

Rossett twisted in his seat to look at Chivers, catching Kate’s concerned eye as he did so.

“Look, George, you can’t go back to the house yet. They might have left men in there, waiting for you, waiting for us. Where else can we go?”

“We could go to my flat,” Kate offered.

“No, you didn’t go to work today. If he knows you called about George, he will have put two and two together, and we can’t risk that he’s having the place watched.”

“What call about me?” Chivers leaned forward, looking from one to the other.

Rossett ignored him.

“We need somewhere where nobody will notice us.”

“What about the docks?” Chivers tried again.

“We’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“We could just drive around for a few hours?” Kate again.

“Too risky, they might have circulated the car.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the children playing outside and the odd flurry of rain on the car roof.

“We can’t sit ’ere all day,” Chivers said.

“Your uncle,” Rossett said, looking at Kate.

“My uncle James? Are you mad?”

“Will he be home?”

“I can call his office, but I’m not sure.”

“Sterling?” Chivers chimed in.

“He’s the only one I can think of. We’ll be safe there, for a few hours.”

“It might have escaped your attention ’e had his men shooting at you the other night,” Chivers said, shaking his head.

“Things have changed. Now someone he loves is involved,” Rossett said, looking at Kate.

“I bleedin’ well ’ope so,” Chivers replied as the car started.

MOST OF THE
large houses in Knightsbridge had been commandeered by the Germans in the first few months of the occupation, but a few still stood apart as little English castles. The privileged classes had just about retained a toehold in the most expensive area of London. A few had even managed to regain their properties from the Germans after long and arduous court cases, helped by good lawyers and a lot of patience. What helped more was being a knight of the realm, especially a knight of the realm who worked alongside the Germans and had been a covert supporter of Oswald Mosley throughout most of the thirties, before he became prime minister, when he’d prowled London in polished boots and a black shirt.

Sir James Sterling’s front door had been safe from the German jackboot from day one.

Rossett, Kate, Chivers, and Jacob stood in the black-and-white-tiled foyer of the mansion as the maid went to fetch the master of the house.

Chivers looked around, then up at the decorated ceiling and the chandelier, and shook his head.

“Bigger than the Locarno bleedin’ ballroom.”

Jacob stared up, following the old man’s lead, his mouth open in wonder; then he looked at Rossett and smiled.

Rossett smiled back and squeezed the boy’s hand.

Down the hall they heard Sterling instructing the maid to make tea. It was only when he finally saw who was standing at the end of the hallway that he stopped.

“What the hell do you think you are doing here?” Sterling suddenly charged down the hall, a scrunched-up copy of the
Times
in one hand.

“We had nowhere else to go, Uncle James,” Kate said.

“Coming here is madness. You must leave at once.”

“I don’t think so,” said Rossett. “We’ll stay a few hours, then go.”

“No, no, no. I’ll not have it. You must leave and take these with you.” Sterling spoke to Kate and pointed at Chivers and Jacob.

Rossett released the boy’s hand and stepped forward to Sterling, taking hold of his arm and pulling him close.

“We’re staying,” Rossett whispered.

“I can’t allow it. I’ve too much to lose.”

“We’re staying,” Rossett repeated. “I’m hungry.” Rossett stared at Sterling, who stared back before swallowing and looking at the other three.

After a beat, he called, “Mary! Where are you, girl?”

The maid stepped forward from a distant doorway and gave a half bow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tea and, I don’t know, something to eat in my study.”

“Is everything all right, sir?” The girl eyed Rossett and seemed unsure.

Rossett stared at Sterling, who licked his lips.

“These men are associates of my niece’s and mine. Everything is fine, dear, absolutely fine. Now run along.”

“We’d rather not be disturbed this afternoon,” Rossett said to the maid, who looked at her master for confirmation, unsure of the situation.

“After you’ve brought up the food, we’d prefer some privacy,” Sterling confirmed with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, sir.”

After the maid retreated, Sterling turned to face Rossett again, his face angry but his voice level.

“Are you happy now?” he hissed.

“You’ve just saved two lives,” Rossett replied.

“Follow me.” Sterling spun on his heel and retreated along the hall. Rossett glanced at Chivers, who shook his head and followed with Jacob.

Kate stepped forward and slid her arm around Rossett’s, pulling him close so she could whisper in his ear.

“I think this will work,” she said softly, watching the other three walk ahead.

“It better. I have to keep the boy safe for a few more hours . . . and you.”

Kate nodded, her eyes on Rossett so intently that he felt his heart kick an extra beat in his chest. Kate opened her mouth as if to speak, then looked down at the floor. Rossett felt his head being drawn to her by something stronger than gravity.

He opened his mouth and kissed her. Closing his eyes in unison with hers, he felt her hand tighten on his arm and her body lean into him. His free hand hovered for a moment and then reached up and touched the side of her face.

“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” Kate whispered.

Rossett nodded.

“Do you promise?”

Rossett smiled.

“I promise,” he whispered back, feeling what it meant to lie to someone he loved.

Chapter 60

T
HE TICK-TOCK
OF
the clock was the only sound in the study except for Jacob’s occasional turn of a page. The boy was lying on the floor in front of a cold marble fireplace looking through an encyclopedia Kate had brought down from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined three of the walls of the room.

Sterling stood up out of the red leather wing chair he’d been squirming in for the last three hours and flexed his back.

“Where are you going?” Rossett broke the silence, his voice as sudden as a brick through the window.

“Where I am going has got nothing to do with you,” Sterling replied.

“Sit down.”

“Sit down? Who are you to tell me to—”

“Sit.”

Sterling sighed and plopped back into the chair, slapping his hands against the oxblood leather armrests.

“It’s been three hours. You’ve come to my house and made me sit like some sort of prisoner. Don’t you think you could at least extend me the courtesy of telling me what is going on?”

“No.”

Sterling sighed again and rolled his head around, trying to free up the tension in his throbbing neck, then drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, showing the frustration of a man who was accustomed to being in control but who was now in the hands of others.

“What is to stop me from just walking out of this room?”

“Me,” Rossett replied.

“Is this the sort of man you consort with?” Sterling turned to Kate. “Your father would be disgusted.”

“Be quiet,” said Rossett.

“Why?”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Sterling simply shook his head and looked at his niece. “Do you see? The man is an animal and a traitor. Your father would spin in his . . .” Outside, the gray afternoon was dimming down to darkness, and somewhere in the house a clock chimed four times. A few more minutes went by and a distant telephone rang.

The ringing stopped, and a moment passed before a soft knock came on the door.

“Come!” shouted Sterling, and the young maid entered. She hovered at the door reluctantly, eyeing Rossett before speaking to Sterling.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir. It’s the telephone, a Mr. Wilson, sir. He said it was important. I told him you were not to be disturbed, but he insisted.”

Sterling considered the message before looking at Rossett.

“May I?” He gestured that he wished to take the call, but Rossett shook his head by way of reply. “It’s a business matter, nothing more,” Sterling added.

“No.”

Sterling rolled his eyes again.

“Tell Mr. Wilson I am tied up somewhat, and that I’ll not be able to make our meeting today.”

The maid nodded and backed out of the room, and silence took her place.

Another half hour passed before Chivers got up and wandered across to the fireplace. Jacob was now asleep on the floor, and the old man knelt with difficulty and started to build a fire with some coal and kindling. When the fire was lit, Chivers creaked to his feet and looked around the room.

“Where’s the booze?” He looked at Sterling, who shook his head.

“I don’t have ‘booze.’ ”

“You posh blokes always have a bottle to ’and. Come on, where’s the booze?”

“There are drinks in that bureau, but it most certainly isn’t booze.” Sterling directed a long, languid finger toward a polished wood drinks cabinet set among the books. Chivers rubbed his hands together and winked at Kate as he passed her. He pulled open the doors of the cabinet, which lit up inside as he did so, and whistled quietly through his teeth.

“Blimey, there’s enough ’ere to get me pissed till Christmas.” He picked up a bottle of brandy and studied the label at arm’s length before pulling the cork and sniffing it, then turning to Sterling and winking.

“That is vintage, man, almost one hundred pounds a bottle,” Sterling said, waving a finger at Chivers.

Chivers took a slug straight from the bottle, then tilted his head forward and gasped.

“An ’undred quid? You’ve been robbed, mate.” The old man poured himself a large glass before holding the bottle up and waggling it at Rossett.

“No.”

Chivers shrugged his shoulders and poured two smaller glasses, one for Kate and one for Sterling. He handed Kate hers and crossed the room to Sterling, setting the glass down noisily on the small table next to the other man’s chair.

Sterling studied the glass and then wiped a small spill away with his hand before picking it up and holding it under his nose.

“Are you not drinking, Sergeant?” Sterling asked.

Rossett shook his head.

“I suppose you’ll make something up about being on duty?”

Rossett ignored him.

They had a long evening ahead.

THE ROOM WAS
quiet when suddenly, somewhere in the house, a bell sounded once, then once again, and everyone jumped.

“What was that?” Rossett looked at Sterling.

“The doorbell. It must be a caller; the girl will get it,” Sterling replied lazily, chin in hand.

Rossett rose from the chair immediately, pulled the Browning from his pocket, slipped the safety, and pulled back the slide, letting it click forward under its own sprung speed.

He looked first at Chivers, who held out a hand to take the gun, but Rossett turned to Kate.

“Here, take this. If he moves, shoot him.”

“But—” Kate tried to speak.

“Shoot him,” Rossett cut her off. “Shoot him for Jacob. Shoot him for your freedom. Do it for us.” As Rossett spoke he pushed the Browning into Kate’s hand.

“For us,” Kate said, nodding, as she slipped her finger over the trigger.

Rossett left the room. He walked toward the front door, and the maid appeared to his left from some service steps that came from downstairs. She froze and stared at him, so he forced a smile and raised one finger to his lips.

“Just open the door and step back so I can see you. Act normally and tell whoever it is that Sir James isn’t home,” he instructed. “It’ll be all right.”

The girl nodded. As she turned away, Rossett produced the Webley from his coat and, holding it behind his leg, ready but out of the maid’s sight, he took up his station behind the door.

The bell sounded again and the maid looked at Rossett, who nodded. She took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping back into the hall.

Before she had a chance to speak, two men rushed past her into the hallway. One turned to speak to the maid but stopped when he saw the Webley pointing at him and Rossett staring down the sight.

Nobody spoke. The second man through the door held a Browning at his side, while the first appeared to be unarmed. The unarmed man, whom Rossett remembered from the warehouse, raised his hands slowly, unsure of what was taking place, while his colleague stared at the end of Rossett’s pistol, fluttering his empty hand against his other leg, weighing up the odds.

“Drop it,” said Rossett, closing the door with his free hand and cutting off any means of escape.

“Our mate is outside in the car. He’ll be wondering where we’ve gone,” said the first man. Rossett ignored him and continued to stare at the second, who was breathing hard and starting to lower his brow.

“Don’t,” said Rossett.

“There is no need for gunplay, Sergeant. We just want to check on our—”

The Webley boomed once and the second man slammed into the wall, the bullet in his chest killing him before his back touched the wallpaper. He dropped to the floor in an unnatural heap as the gun dropped from his lifeless hand onto the tiles.

The hallway seemed to ring with the echo of the gunshot as everyone’s ears adjusted to the shock. The maid slowly lifted her hands to the sides of her head and her mouth opened, but no noise came out. Rossett took her wrist in his hand and gently pulled her toward him. The first man looked at his dead colleague and then back to Rossett’s gun.

“Is there anyone waiting outside?”

“No.”

“If you are lying . . .”

“I’m not. We’re alone.”

“Gun,” Rossett said, and for a moment the man looked confused. Then he gingerly reached into his coat and pulled out another Browning, which he handed over nervously, butt first.

“Go,” said Rossett, flicking the pistol, indicating that the man should start walking toward the rear of the house.

The man made his way down the hallway. Rossett gently took the arm of the maid, who gave a low squeak. Still holding one hand to her head, she allowed herself to be led by Rossett back to the drawing room, stepping gingerly over the body of the man.

“In there,” Rossett said when they reached the study door.

The man opened the door and stepped into the room, looking around and then crossing to the fireplace. Rossett pushed the maid ahead of him and followed her in.

Rossett turned to look around and saw Sterling, with Jacob on his lap, sitting at the far end of the room. In front of him knelt Kate. The most noticeable thing about the tableau was that Sterling was holding the Browning under Jacob’s arm, resting the muzzle against the boy’s ribs.

Rossett looked at Jacob, who stared back with watery eyes that hovered uncertainly over thin lips, and then back at Sterling, who looked like the cat who had the cream.

“Drop your gun, Rossett.”

Rossett looked at Kate, who lowered her eyes. “Drop your gun,” Sterling said again, this time his voice stronger, attempting to take control.

The man whom Rossett had pushed into the room straightened and then took a half step toward him but stopped as Rossett pointed the Webley at him.

“Don’t. I’ll kill you. Sterling, drop the gun.” Rossett didn’t look at Sterling as he spoke. He fixed his gaze on the other man, who glanced at his boss and then back at Rossett.

“I’ll kill the boy,” Sterling said.

Jacob whined, hurt by the words and by the barrel of the gun that pushed into his ribs. Kate made to stroke the boy’s hair, but Sterling pushed her hand away.

“Sterling, drop the gun,” Rossett said coldly. “It’s empty. Put it down. If you do anything but put that gun down, I’m going to kill this man and then kill you. Drop the gun.”

Kate placed one hand over her mouth. Jacob whined again and the man at the end of Rossett’s barrel opened his hands and made a calming motion.

“Sir?” The man looked at Sterling with pleading eyes, barely able to drag them away from the Webley.

“I mean it, Rossett,” Sterling said, his voice less assured.

“Uncle James, please,” Kate said.

A moment passed.

Nobody breathed. Minds raced, hearts pumped, and time seemed to stand still.

And then Sterling pulled the trigger.

Click.

Rossett fired the Webley and Sterling’s man hit the floor.

Even before the hammer was halfway back, Rossett was pointing the gun at Sterling and making ready to kill again. Sterling clicked the Browning trigger once more, then twisted in his seat, lifting his arm to cover his face.

“John!” Kate screamed as Jacob stared at him, his mouth open and eyes wide.

Rossett paused, jaw clenched, arm straight, and Webley unwavering out before him.

“Please, John,” Kate said, more softly this time. “He’s my uncle. Please.”

Rossett looked at Jacob. The child shook a little and his eyes welled, shocked at what he’d just witnessed. Rossett relaxed slightly as Sterling let the gun slip from his hand onto the floor.

Chivers launched himself out of his chair and crossed the room to take the Browning off the floor as Sterling slumped and pushed Jacob off his lap.

“Come ’ere, boy.” Chivers held out his hands to Jacob, who charged across the room and fell into the old man’s arms, sobbing.

“He snatched it from me. I tried,” Kate said quietly.

“ ’E’s a fast bastard, the bleedin’ snake,” Chivers said behind Rossett. “She did ’er best.”

Rossett reached down, took the Browning from Chivers, and slipped it into his pocket, still pointing the Webley at Sterling.

“It was empty,” Sterling said quietly.

Rossett nodded, his eyes on the top of Kate’s head, willing her to look up and meet his gaze.

“You was testin’ her?” Chivers again, looking first from Rossett to Kate and then back again.

Rossett didn’t answer.

He finally lowered the Webley and took a seat, the pistol resting on his knee, as he weighed his options. Chivers led Jacob to a settee and sat with the boy, his arm draped over his shoulders, staring at Sterling.

Kate slowly raised her face and looked at Rossett.

“You didn’t trust me?” she said.

“This is the sort of man you’re getting mixed up with, girl. He’s a killer, a damned murdering traitor.” Sterling stared at Rossett as he spoke, using words to mask the embarrassment of having the tables turned on him by someone he considered an inferior.

“I can’t trust anyone yet,” Rossett said to Kate, ignoring Sterling.

“No, you can’t,” said Kate sadly.