Edward Marston - Ticket to Oblivion

When the ship docked, they were among the first to disembark. Colbeck had already given them their orders. Having spoken to the captain of the vessel, he’d learnt the names of the best hotels in Dublin and deployed his men accordingly. Leeming was sent off in one direction with a shortlist of names while Kee went to check out hotels in the opposite direction. Colbeck and Madeleine would work their way through a third list. He stressed that nobody was to tackle the kidnappers on his own. If they were discovered, he was to alert the others when they met at an agreed location at the heart of the city.

Leeming went off with resolute strides but Kee fairly scampered away.

‘I don’t like him, Robert,’ said Madeleine. ‘He’s too sly.’

‘Since I’m landed with him, I have to use him.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t send them off together. Victor obviously detests him.’

‘Yes, Kee is an unprepossessing individual,’ said Colbeck, sighing. ‘He’s also a potential weakness, which is why I hope we find the kidnappers first.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘Captain Whiteside and his accomplice have never seen us. We have the advantage of surprise. Alban Kee doesn’t. He was knocked unconscious by Sergeant Cullen. If he turns up at their hotel, he might be recognised.’

Sir Marcus Burnhope was under immense strain. Expecting to be contacted by the kidnappers yet again, he kept going to the window in the library and peering out. The rest of them were there but, in the tense atmosphere, nobody dared to speak. Percy Vaughan was seated beside his aunt so that she could draw strength from his presence. A nervous Emma was on the sofa, flanked by her parents. Vaughan was looking enviously around the shelves and Cassandra, for once, was silent, her effervescence sapped by the seriousness of the situation. When Sir Marcus was at rest, the only sound in the room was the methodical ticking of the ormolu clock on the marble mantelpiece. When it chimed on the hour, they were all startled.

Without any of the detectives, Sir Marcus felt bereft. Tallis was in London but the whereabouts of Colbeck and Leeming were unknown. It left Sir Marcus feeling isolated. If a ransom demand did come, he wanted someone there to advise him. It irked him to think he might have to pay the kidnappers twice yet he’d do so if it would ensure his daughter’s release. Hands behind his back, he did a circuit of the library, impervious to the others. He was about to return to his seat when he heard hoof beats approaching the house at speed. As he darted to the window, he found Dominic Vaughan beside him, equally anxious to see who the newcomer was. A figure in uniform galloped up to the front of the house and reined in his horse before dismounting.

‘Stay here,’ said Sir Marcus, heading for the door.

The others waited for several minutes before he returned. Desperate for news, they were all on their feet at once. He waved a piece of paper in the air.

‘This was sent to the telegraph station at Shrub Hill,’ he announced. ‘It’s a message from Superintendent Tallis.’

‘What does it say?’ croaked his wife.

‘Inspector Colbeck has gone to Ireland.’

Cassandra voiced the general dismay. ‘What is Imogen doing there ?’

The loss of Rhoda Wills was a devastating blow to Imogen. The woman had been both friend and fellow prisoner, sharing the same privations and doing her best to keep their morale high. It was thanks to Rhoda that they’d attempted to escape and, even though they’d failed, they had the satisfaction of knowing that they’d done something positive instead of just meekly waiting to see what would happen to them. Their punishment had been separation. Together, they could support each other; apart, they were powerless. When she stood at the window of her hotel room, Imogen looked down on pretty rows of Georgian houses with a pleasing symmetry. People were hurrying to and fro on foot or by cab. While they were enjoying the precious gift of freedom, Imogen was locked away, dreading the moment when Terence Whiteside would return to claim his prize. She was in purgatory.

Whiteside was in the hotel bar, savouring a celebratory drink with Cullen. They sat in a quiet corner and congratulated themselves on their achievement. Their haul was big enough to keep both of them in a state of prosperity for the rest of their lives, with the added bonus — at least in the short term — of an attractive mistress for each of them. Cullen was practical.

‘How long do we keep them?’

‘They can stay until we tire of them, Manus.’

‘Then what happens? We can hardly let them go now.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Whiteside. ‘Enjoy what we have to the full before we think of getting rid of it. Before that, of course, we can divide the spoils.’

‘What about the jewellery?’

‘That belongs to Imogen.’

‘I think we should have half each.’

‘Then you’re very much mistaken.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ said Cullen. ‘It’s worth a fortune. I’m not going to miss out on my share of that. All right,’ he went on, sensing his friend’s hostility, ‘let her keep it as long as she’s with us but, when we dispose of her, it’s a different story.’

‘Don’t get too greedy,’ said Whiteside.

‘And don’t you get too forgetful. Fifty-fifty was the split we agreed and you’ve already reneged on that, Terence.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Then take a look at the ladies side by side. You get the real beauty and I have to make do with the other one. That’s not fifty-fifty,’ he joked. ‘By rights, we ought to take it in turns with Sir Marcus’s daughter.’

‘She’s all mine,’ warned Whiteside, picking up his glass, ‘and so is her jewellery for the time being. Bear that in mind, Manus.’

While they discussed their plans and enjoyed their drink, they were both thinking about what awaited them upstairs. Whiteside was patient but Cullen’s mind kept drifting. In the end, he excused himself and sauntered out of the bar on his way to an enforced tryst with Rhoda Wills. Seconds later, he was back.

‘Terence,’ he said, sitting beside him, ‘he’s out there.’

‘Who is?’

‘It’s that detective I knocked out in Crewe. He’s followed us. We haven’t escaped, after all.’

‘Calm down, calm down,’ said Whiteside. ‘Is the fellow alone?’

‘He seemed to be.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. If he was hiding behind that hedge, he may have seen me but not you.’

‘That’s true. He won’t know me from Adam.’

Whiteside stood up. ‘What was he doing?’

‘He was talking to the manager.’

‘Get out there and keep an eye on him,’ said the other, easing him towards the door. ‘I’ll sneak off upstairs. Let me know what he does and how you think we should react. Remind me of his name.’

‘Alban Kee.’

Kee had done it so many times before that he was an old hand. When he’d asked for information about hotel guests, managers had invariably become indignant and told him that it was against their policy to disclose details of any kind to strangers. All that Kee had to do was to slip some banknotes into the manager’s palm and the hotel register was suddenly open to him. He felt a glow of triumph when he saw the name of Terence Whiteside, ostensibly travelling with his wife. In the next room, Manus Cullen was staying with Mrs Cullen. Kee was thrilled. Those were the names given to him by Colbeck. He’d found the kidnappers.

His orders were to go to the meeting place and await the others. Since the guests were booked in, they would not be going anywhere. Kee could come back with reinforcements and the arrests could be made. On the other hand, if he caught both men himself, he could bask in the glory. After seeing such a display of courage and enterprise, Tallis was bound to have him back in Scotland Yard. Kee would not only have proved his mettle, he would have outshone Robert Colbeck at last. There would be a substantial reward from Sir Marcus Burnhope and the kind of lavish praise in the newspapers that he had always sought.