Andrew Pepper - The Detective Branch

Felix nodded. ‘Anything. I’ll do anything.’

Smiling, Pyke reached out and squeezed his son’s hand. ‘I need you to find a man called Ned Villums. He has an office on St John’s Square in Clerkenwell. I want you to tell him what’s happened; that I’ve been arrested for stealing something called the Saviour’s Cross. I want you to tell him the police have Alfred Egan. He’ll know what to do, what it all means.’

In fact, Pyke had not seen or heard from Villums since the summer, and he still felt that Villums blamed him for letting Sharp die in police custody, therefore robbing him of the opportunity to avenge Harry Dove’s death. Dove had apparently gone to Cullen’s pawn shop to inspect the Saviour’s Cross. Most likely, Sharp had entered the shop, pistols blazing, and had stolen the cross for himself. So how had it fallen into Pierce’s hands, and how had it ended up in his garden?

Pyke tried to remember the name of the third victim. Johnny Gibb. Was that the name Shaw had told him?

In a small, quiet voice, Felix looked at the flint walls and said, ‘Is it true what they’re all saying? That you stole this cross and buried it in our garden?’

‘No, it’s not true. Someone put it there to make me look guilty. I plan to prove that in court.’

Pyke could see at once that his son wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘But before… you did steal some gold bars and you buried them at the allotment near our old house.’

Pyke pursed his lips. This much was true: he had acquired the gold during an investigation three or four years earlier and had made the mistake of showing the bars to Felix. Now the lad clearly believed he was in the habit of stealing valuable items.

Clasping his hands around Felix’s shoulders, he looked into the lad’s eyes. ‘I didn’t take that cross. I swear it on your mother’s grave. I need you to believe me.’

Felix relaxed a little. ‘I do believe you, Pyke.’ This time it sounded as if he really did.

‘I need you to find this man, Ned Villums. If he’s not in his office, you’ll have to go to his home. He lives on Park Road, overlooking Regent’s Park. I don’t know which house, so you’ll have to ask.’

‘Copper must have gone berserk after you were arrested. When I got home, he’d torn up the living room.’

Pyke smiled. ‘Come back and see me tomorrow, if you can.’

Felix lingered by the door, biting his lip. ‘What if you don’t manage to get out of here?’

‘I will; one way or another.’

‘But if you don’t?’

This time Pyke had no answer.

With some decent food and a pint of ale in his stomach, Pyke slept well that night and had already eaten breakfast by the time Fitzroy Tilling was ushered into the felons’ room at eight the following morning. Tilling embraced Pyke and regarded him with an expression that combined disappointment and concern. ‘God, what a mess you’ve got yourself into this time, Pyke.’

‘I didn’t get myself into anything. I was just doing what I’m paid to do. I was fine when my only suspect was a former convict. But as soon as the investigation threatened to implicate men like Sir St John Palmer, the Saviour’s Cross suddenly turned up in my garden.’

‘So what do you do now?’ Tilling asked, looking around the cell.

‘The case is going to go directly to trial. Neither the prosecution nor I want a committal hearing. I know the basis of their case against me. It’s up to me, and the barrister I instruct, to dismantle it piece by piece.’ As Pyke said this, he realised that he’d already made up his mind to accept Wells’s offer.

‘Is that wise? What if the Crown’s lawyer comes up with something you aren’t expecting in the trial?’

Pyke considered this for a moment. It wasn’t just the question of trusting Wells that he was hesitant about. ‘After a committal hearing, the magistrate would be duty bound to send me to somewhere like Coldbath Fields. At least here I can see visitors and prepare my defence with relative ease.’

Tilling glanced around the cell again and said, ‘Yes, I suppose you do seem to be rather comfortable.’

‘For what it’s worth, I didn’t steal this crucifix. I’d swear to that, on my son’s life.’

‘And for what it’s worth, I believe you. But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you this time. Nothing at all. Peel just wants this to go away. The last thing he needs is a scandal involving a project his name has been attached to.’

‘And so I’m the sacrificial lamb?’

Tilling ignored the question. ‘Who do you think orchestrated this whole thing?’

‘Pierce.’

Tilling made his way over to Pyke and inspected his hands, bruises still visible on his knuckles. ‘Because of what you did to him?’

‘This has been much longer in the planning. But I should have killed him when I had the chance.’

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ Tilling said, impassively. ‘So if not Pierce, who is leading this investigation for the police?’

‘Walter Wells, the acting superintendent.’

‘And is that a good thing? For you, I mean?’

‘I think he and I understand one another; I don’t think he has any great love for Pierce, either.’

‘I don’t know him very well, but I’ve heard on good authority that he’s going to be the new assistant commissioner. My old position.’

‘Not Pierce?’

‘Pierce? I’m not sure he was ever a possibility.’ Tilling looked at Pyke and sighed. ‘Just don’t expect Wells to ride to your rescue. He’s going to do as he’s told by Mayne and Rowan. The last thing he’ll want to do is rock the boat — or let you rock it for him.’

Later that night, just before his candle burned out, the gaoler and two assistants came into the felons’ room and without explanation put Pyke in handcuffs and leg-irons. An hour or so later, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They stopped outside his door. Pyke heard a jangling of keys and waited while the bolt was drawn back. Finally the door swung open. Squinting, Pyke looked up at the cloaked figure silhouetted in the half-light from the passageway. He saw the walking stick before he saw the man’s face, which was partly concealed by a top hat. The man limped into the cell and Pyke knew at once who he was. In his other hand, Benedict Pierce was carrying a wooden club. He pushed the door closed.

‘I’d like to tell you that I’ve come here to gloat, Pyke, but that would be a lie.’ Pierce looked around the room disapprovingly. ‘I can’t say I would have permitted such luxury. In the long run, I don’t suspect it will matter.’

Each step caused Pierce to wince, and by the time he had made it to where Pyke was sitting, his face was lathered with sweat. Without another word, he raised the club and slammed it against the top of Pyke’s arm, the pain arriving a few moments later, a scalding sensation that tore up and down one side of his body. Grunting, Pierce raised the club again and this time drove it into Pyke’s midriff, cracking his ribs in the process. Another streak of pain tore across his chest.

Pyke heard the club scything through the air before he saw it, the smooth, round end striking him in the midriff again. Pierce rested for a moment and then brought the head of the club down on Pyke’s hand, then his groin. The pain was unlike anything Pyke had ever known, and before he passed into unconsciousness, his agonised shriek bounced off the walls of the cell.

When Pyke came around, it was already light and someone had removed the handcuffs and leg-irons, but even the slightest movement caused him to shout out in pain. Keeping as still as possible, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. When he opened them next, he saw that Walter Wells was kneeling down next to him. ‘Drink this, old man, it’ll help with the pain,’ he said, cupping the back of Pyke’s head with his hand. Pyke tasted the laudanum on his lips and swallowed. ‘I don’t know how this could have happened. I left very clear instructions that he was not to be admitted to this room. I suppose it is his station house, but I can promise you it won’t happen again. Not that I can use this against him. Officially no one saw him. Officially you tripped and fell and did this to yourself.’ Pyke sipped some more of the laudanum and waited for it to have an effect. The relief spread from his stomach, a warm, numbing sensation. A few minutes later, his eyelids drooped and his arms became leaden.