Andrew Pepper - The Detective Branch

Pyke sat there on the mattress, shaking. It was inconceivable, unthinkable, that a man like Ned Villums would testify against him, or anyone else, in a courtroom. But somehow Pierce had got to him; somehow Pierce had broken him; and if Villums stood up and told the court what he knew, Pyke was as good as dead. It wasn’t just that Villums could lie about him having stolen the Saviour’s Cross; the man had first-hand knowledge of the many crimes Pyke had committed over the years. There were thefts he could talk about. Even murders.

‘Wells would have known about this, wouldn’t he?’

Whicher pursed his lips and nodded. ‘I’d say so.’

And he’d played it quite beautifully, Pyke thought. Convince Pyke to waive his right to a pre-trial hearing and keep him in the dark regarding the true threat to his liberty. Meanwhile, distract him with luxuries and laudanum. It was perfect. But why did Wells want him out of the way? Was it conceivable that he had been acting in consort with Benedict Pierce from the outset?

‘Who is he?’ Whicher asked, a few moments later.

‘You mean Villums? You don’t want to know. But he’s the one man whose testimony will almost guarantee I’ll swing from the noose.’

‘That bad, eh?’

‘If he stands up and tells the court even a fraction of what I’ve done, what we’ve done together, I don’t stand a chance.’

Whicher stood still, arms folded. Pyke couldn’t tell whether he was appalled by this revelation or not. ‘So what are you going to do?’ Whicher asked, finally.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Pyke shuffled across to where he was standing and clasped his shoulders. ‘You’re a good friend, Jack. I’m sorry about what I said before.’

‘I’m sorry too.’ Whicher’s smile turned into a grimace. ‘Pierce isn’t interested in me any more, now you’re in here.’

‘I could always try to delay the trial but I don’t think that would help. If Villums testifies, I’m finished.’

Whicher offered an uncomfortable shrug. ‘I have no idea where they’re keeping him. I don’t imagine anyone knows.’

‘Don’t worry, Jack.’ Pyke tried to smile. ‘I’m not going to ask you to do anything illegal.’

‘Then what do you want?’

Pyke returned to his mattress and sat down; he needed time to think. He was in a deep hole and there was no obvious way out.

‘I can’t ask you to do anything for me, Jack, but I’m hoping you could be persuaded to bring someone to see me.’ The first inkling of an idea was forming in Pyke’s head.

‘Who?’

‘You remember Sean Rafferty? He was shot dead some time last month. His brother Conor drinks in the Blue Dog in St Giles.’

‘You want me to find him and ask him to come here?’

‘He’ll refuse at first, so you have to try and convince him it’ll be in his best interests. He’ll want to avenge the death of his brother. Tell him I can help.’

Whicher didn’t speak for a moment or two. ‘Are you quite sure you want your fate to depend on someone like Rafferty?’

‘In a day and a half, I’ll stand in front of a judge who’ll happily send me to the scaffold, if that’s what the jury tells him to do. I don’t see I have a choice in the matter.’

The situation was too far gone for Pyke to feel any real anger towards Wells or indeed Pierce. That could come later, if and when he made it out of there. Nor did he have the time to engineer an escape. It was true that he’d been given the freedom of the cell, but he knew there were two men on the door at all times and everyone going in and out of the cell was searched. Still, for a while at least, he imagined what he would do when he next came face to face with Wells. Or Villums. That had been the bitterest of blows. He had known Villums for twenty years and had developed a certain respect for him. The loss of face for Villums was unimaginable, too. Even if he was testifying against a policeman, no one would do business with him again.

Pyke found it hard to settle; he paced around the oblong room until he felt dizzy. And even though the pain from his ribs and broken fingers was almost unbearable, he resisted the temptation to finish the laudanum. That was how Wells wanted him; docile, strolling oblivious into an ambush. No, he had to stay focused and the pain would help him. Turning his thoughts back to Conor Rafferty, he tried to think what he might do if Whicher wasn’t able to find him or Rafferty decided not to come. Did he have another idea? It was Sunday tomorrow and the city shut down for the day. He took to counting the hours: thirty-nine until he was due to take his place on the stand.

Later that evening Wells did come to see him. ‘You have to believe me,’ he said, almost pleading. ‘I knew nothing about it. I was just as much in the dark as you. I found out an hour ago and came here as quickly as I could.’ He shook his head. ‘I assume it’s bad news.’

Pyke said nothing for a moment or two. ‘Jack Whicher came to see me this afternoon. He broke the news to me.’

Wells nodded. ‘It’s Pierce. He’s played this final card from the bottom of the deck. No one could have seen it coming.’

‘But you persuaded me to waive my committal hearing, didn’t you, Walter? If I’d taken the hearing, the Crown’s lawyers would’ve been forced to reveal their hand.’

‘I know and I feel terrible. Just terrible. Please, old man. If there’s anything I can do for you, any way of making amends…’

‘Give me the keys and let me walk out of here.’

Wells simply stared at him. ‘Within reason, Pyke.’

‘In a day, I go before a magistrate and jury with no chance of refuting the evidence that will be presented to them. What do you expect me to say?’

‘Perhaps I could try to find this new witness.’ Wells hesitated.

‘And do what?’

‘Talk to him; persuade him not to testify against you.’

Pyke shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t do any good; clearly Pierce has something on him. There’s no way he would have agreed to testify otherwise.’

‘But if I could find him… and… What if he had an accident? Something that prevented him from getting to the courtroom?’

Pyke was surprised at this suggestion.

‘Things are never as bad as you think they are,’ Wells continued. ‘When I was a soldier in Afghanistan, our regiment was attacked by the natives. We were ambushed in the mountains and outnumbered. It was hopeless; men were falling like flies. I made a choice. I hid under a pile of corpses pretending to be dead. I stayed there for almost a day. It was baking hot so you can imagine the stench. Eventually reinforcements arrived. I was the only one left alive. Later, I received a medal for my endeavours. It made my reputation as a soldier but not a day goes by when I don’t feel ashamed of what I did.’

It was a strange tale. Pyke could see that Wells didn’t often tell it and that this confession had taken its toll. But it didn’t do anything to change or alleviate the predicament he faced.

Pyke didn’t hear anything or receive another visitor until the following afternoon. It took him a few seconds to recognise Conor Rafferty: he was gaunter than Pyke remembered and he’d shaved his head. There was none of his former insouciance, either. His countenance was grim and determined.

‘So what is it you think I can do for you, big man?’

Pyke couldn’t tell whether he’d used this last term ironically. ‘Think of it, in the first instance, in terms of what I can do for you.’

‘While you’re locked up in here, not a whole lot, I’d wager.’ His smile revealed rotten teeth and black gums.

‘Perhaps we need each other.’

‘How do you work that one out?’ He tried to appear indifferent but Pyke could tell he was interested.