Andrew Pepper - The Detective Branch

Some of the dwellings were derelict — Buckeridge and Bainbridge Streets had both been earmarked for demolition; a new road linking High Holborn in the east and Oxford Street in the west was planned, cutting a swathe through the worst part of the rookery. Most of the buildings, however, were still occupied, if only by squatters, the poorest of the poor, who slept eight or ten to a room, defecated in the street, and cooked food on open fires in the yards or courts.

Wells took out his truncheon and indicated for his men to do likewise. Raising it up in the air, he waited for a moment, like a conductor, and then brought it down with a sudden jerk of his wrist. The constables filed out along the street, two congregating at each door. When they were all in place, Wells gave the signal and they issued a collective belly roar and crashed through the doors in unison, the noise shattering the silence and echoing up and down the narrow street. Wells stood there, sniffing the air, as the first bedraggled men were slung out on to the street, arms protecting their heads, while other policemen moved forward to throw them into the waiting wagons. Ignoring the screams of women and children, who had also been herded into the street, the policemen moved systematically from house to house, not stopping until the entire street had been cleared, and their truncheons were coated with a patina of blood. Only then did they consider the desolation they had caused, the screaming and the wailing as the first of the wagons, jammed full of bodies, lurched forward, the horses buckling under the strain despite the crack of the driver’s whip.

Wells gave Pyke a full description of what had happened later that morning when Pyke found him in the corridor outside the holding cells underneath the old watch-house. Wells’s division and number — A1 — was manifest on the collar of his coat; his truncheon was clipped to his belt.

The cells were full to the point of overflowing and the confined space smelled of body odour and gin. Wells greeted Pyke enthusiastically and told him that the raid had been a qualified success. They hadn’t found the gunmen but he assured Pyke that it would only be a matter of time.

Pyke listened, trying to reconcile his anger with the notion that Wells outranked him and hence wouldn’t welcome the criticism. It was stupid, what they had done, stirring up unnecessary trouble, but Pyke didn’t want to make an enemy out of Wells just yet.

‘I spoke to one of the Rafferty brothers yesterday at the Blue Dog on Castle Street. He told me that a hundred men would vouch that he and his brothers were there at the time of the robbery.’

‘And you didn’t think to share this information with me?’

‘Your mind seemed to be made up.’ Pyke waited. ‘Just because a handful of Irishmen were seen firing their guns on wasteland doesn’t mean they walked into Cullen’s shop and shot three men in cold blood.’

Wells eyed him suspiciously. ‘I don’t like to say it, sir, but you’re beginning to sound like a papist appeaser.’

Pyke let the insult linger in the air between them. It didn’t especially bother him — he’d been called a lot worse.

Perhaps sensing he’d pushed the matter too far, Wells softened his expression. ‘Notwithstanding the smoke and mirrors of their idolatrous religion, if you’d seen what I saw this morning, fifty men, women and children crammed into dwellings that weren’t built to house more than ten, you might agree that we are being overrun by papists.’

‘And beating a few of them over the head with truncheons is going to take care of the problem?’

Wells looked up and down the narrow corridor and shook his head, disappointed by Pyke’s response. ‘I see we’re never going to agree on this issue but perhaps, Detective Inspector, I could have some assurance that in the future you will keep me informed on matters pertaining to this investigation?’

‘If you’ll let me know when you intend to drag half of the Irish poor in here to answer questions.’

They regarded one another for a moment or two but it was Wells who broke the silence. Brightening, he slapped Pyke on the arm and said, ‘I’ll do what I can, Detective Inspector. I hope you’ll do likewise.’ When Pyke nodded, he smiled and added, ‘I’m quite certain we will get along together just fine.’

Pyke said he hoped this would be the case and waited. He could tell that Wells had something else on his mind.

‘Actually, Detective Inspector, I wanted to talk to you about Superintendent Benedict Pierce.’

‘Pierce?’ As ever, when the man’s name was mentioned, Pyke felt his skin prickle.

‘Your antipathy towards him is hardly a secret. And by all accounts he is less than fond of you. I heard that he sought to thwart your appointment as head of the Detective Branch?’

Pyke just shrugged. He’d heard the same rumour and suspected it to be true. ‘I’ve made no secret of my low opinion of Pierce.’

‘Quite, quite,’ Wells said, suddenly adopting a more amicable tone, ‘and between you and me, I commend your judgement. While I would never articulate such thoughts in public, I am happy to concede that I find the man to be untrustworthy and unctuous. I am telling you this in confidence, of course.’

‘Fine,’ Pyke said, trying to assess whether Wells’s disparagement of Pierce was genuine or not — and why he had chosen to talk to Pyke about it.

‘You will perhaps have wondered why Superintendent Pierce volunteered to assume command of the Holborn Division.’

‘I have my ideas.’

‘Such as?’

‘He intends to meddle in this investigation. Perhaps he wants to take the credit for any success, or he simply wants to show me up. He still has his admirers in the Detective Branch.’

Wells considered this. ‘Perhaps you know information that could scupper his ascent up the greasy pole.’

A moment’s silence passed between them. Pyke held Wells’s gaze and tried to work out whether he was just fishing for information. ‘Perhaps, but I’m sure he knows things about me that could be just as damaging,’ Pyke said, eventually.

‘Then it might be as well to collect as many friends in high places as possible.’ Wells paused. ‘Perhaps you know that the assistant commissioner’s position is soon to be filled. What you may not know, however, is that Pierce intends to offer himself as a candidate.’

‘But he’s only just been appointed as superintendent of the Holborn Division.’

Wells shrugged. ‘You’ll understand, Pyke, I am not without self-interest in this matter. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I consider myself to be a worthy candidate for the position — or at least more worthy than Pierce.’

‘If it came down to a straight choice between you and Pierce, you can rest assured that I wouldn’t recommend Pierce.’

That seemed to gratify the former soldier and he grinned and clapped Pyke on the back. ‘Capital, old chap. Capital. And I’ll do my utmost not to interfere in your investigation. How does that sound?’

When Lockhart brought the crossing-sweeper to Pyke’s office later that day, the dishevelled and slightly pungent man kept to his story and confirmed everything that Lockhart had said. As soon as the shots were fired, the crossing-sweeper said, the policeman had hurried off in another direction. That was how he knew the man had a limp, he added. Lockhart remained in the room while Pyke questioned the sweeper, his expression slightly smug. Once the man had said his piece, Pyke thanked both him and Lockhart and gave the former a few shillings for his time.

Pyke barely had a moment to gather his thoughts when Billy Gerrett knocked on his door and fell into the room. His large, round face was still glistening with sweat from the run up the stairs. ‘We know who one of the victims was.’