Peter Lovesey - The Tick of Death

‘They say there’s no Irish conspiracy without its informer,’ said Cribb, piously shaking his head.

‘The Clan knows how to deal with traitors,’ said Rossanna. ‘Shall we take this path along the riverside? There are some water-irises further on.’

‘By all means,’ said Cribb, wondering at the nature of a woman whose thoughts shifted so easily from dynamite to flowers. It was a narrow path leading past the boat-house where the launch was kept, and a larger building beyond. From this came the sound of hammering. Four men in labouring clothes were outside, lifting a large sheet of metal from a stack.

‘What’s going on?’ Cribb asked.

‘They’re working with Patrick. It’s a job for my father that required additional help, so Patrick and Tom recruited some loyal Irishmen at a public house in Rotherhithe. We pay them better rates than they would get working on the docks and boatyards, and Patrick brings them down-river on the launch each morning. They don’t come into the house at all. Now who was I speaking of? Ah, yes. Poor Tom Gallagher. He was carrying?1,400 of the Fund when he was arrested. The Clan doesn’t believe in under-providing for its agents.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘The only other Clansmen to have been arrested are John Daly and Francis Egan, who are still awaiting trial at Warwick. John’s plan was to toss a bomb on to the table of the House of Commons from the Strangers’ Gallery while the House was in session. It sounds desperate, but he twice gained admission to the Gallery and would have had a well-made brass bomb with him the third time. He was carrying three when he was stopped at Chester railway station in April. But there’re still two other groups besides our own at liberty.’

‘When did your father arrive in England?’

Her expression softened. ‘Last year-in May. He was to establish himself here well in advance of Devlin and Malone’s arrival. The house was placed at the disposal of the Clan by a patriot who owns another place in Surrey. He was good enough to leave one of his staff behind as well, a man who can be depended upon in every sense. It was his summons which brought me here from America after Father’s accident.’

‘That was in June?’

‘What an excellent memory you have-yes. He was testing a small bomb here in the grounds when it detonated prematurely, with terrible results. He was the Clan’s principal machinist. Despite his injuries, he is carrying on the work.’

‘With your help.’

‘That is so.’

They stopped to watch a hay-boat pass along the Reach, its brown lateen sail catching enough wind to give it the advantage over a toiling lighter laden with bricks. Cribb decided the time was ripe to extend the conversation. ‘Two of the groups in custody, you say. This is dangerous work. Would any of the convicted men inform on us?’

‘They don’t know where we are. It is the policy of the Clan that the groups work independently. We all have our instructions from America, and we are here to carry them out without reference to anyone else. In the last year that I have been working for the Clan, I have not met any of the men who have been taken. Everything I have told you about them you could have read for yourself in the newspapers.’

This was true. ‘So that when a bombing takes place it is just as surprising to you as it is to the public at large?’

‘Exactly-unless we have arranged it ourselves.’

‘Was it yours in Scotland Yard the other night?’

She smiled. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you. It was not. Nor were the others that night. We are here for something altogether more ambitious.’

‘Isn’t Scotland Yard enough?’

‘There are more important targets than that, Mr Sargent.’

He wished Inspector Jowett took the same view. ‘The police are sure to intensify their inquiries. Have they any knowledge of our existence here, do you think?’

‘I think not. Not now.’

‘That sounds significant.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘One night when Malone was at the public house in Rotherhithe he got into conversation with a man he suspected was a police agent. This was at the time of the London station explosions-which this group was not responsible for, I might add-and the man was interminably talking about locomotives and timetables. Malone suspected he was trying to feed us false information, but when we checked some of it we could not fault him. Then one night we discovered that he was being watched by the police-a Special Branch man, as we discovered. Malone lured this one into a trap and shot him.’

‘Ah.’ How else could Cribb react, except privately to note that Malone’s own death had been no more than he deserved for killing Constable Bottle? He asked, as casually as he was able: ‘And the other man?’

‘We brought him here. He saw the shooting of the Special Branch man, you understand.’

‘Of course. Did you. .?’

‘Not yet. We think our locomotive enthusiast has some useful information for us. He must be a policeman. He possesses all the characteristics, from the thick skull to the flat feet. He was probably wanting to sell information to Malone. They aren’t paid much at Scotland Yard, you know. The Special Branch man must have suspected what was going on, and consequently followed them into the trap. If the Special Branch were interested, then he has got something to tell us, and he is in no position now to demand a fee. We’ll get it from him soon, and then Father has something else in mind for him. He will be incorporated into the plan.’

Whatever that was, it did not matter for the present. Thackeray was alive-thick-skulled, flat-footed and breathing!

‘You have this man here? I haven’t seen him.’

‘You won’t, Mr Sargent. It is better for us all if he is kept locked away until we are ready to use him.’

‘Quite so. Are you sure you can handle him, though? Without Malone’s assistance, I mean.’

‘Perfectly sure. He is no trouble.’

From her manner, she wanted to drop the subject. It would have been incautious to press her further on the matter of Thackeray, tantalising as it was.

‘Pardon me for asking,’ Cribb said, as they turned in the direction of the house. ‘Is it usual for the Clan to employ members of the fair sex?’

She laughed. ‘Not so unusual as you might think, Mr Sargent. We are not the insipid creatures some of you men take us for. The Ladies’ Land League was a far more militant organisation than the men’s, until Mr Parnell got cold feet and insisted upon its dissolution. Besides, modern fashions give us a distinct advantage over men in conveying dynamite secretly to England. How do you think Atlas Powder travels-in men’s trouser pockets?’

‘I’d never considered it,’ said Cribb candidly.

‘Then take my advice and have nothing to do with strange women on ocean-going steam-ships, unless you are prepared for a devastating experience.’

Cribb laughed. ‘Not the kind you have in mind, Rossanna.’

At the mention of her name, she tightened her grip on his arm. ‘If you were wondering about me, I promise you I have nothing under my skirts to alarm you, Mr Sargent, if you are the man I take you for. I believe you described yourself as an adventurer.’

Heavens! She was at it again, more flagrantly than before. And looking damnably fetching at the same time. He took a long, uplifting breath. ‘That’s correct. But I did say a professional adventurer, and it occurs to me that I might still be on probation, so far as the Clan is concerned. I’m here in my capacity as a dynamiter, nothing else. In other circumstances, Miss. .’ he added gallantly.

They walked the rest of the way across the lawn in silence, Cribb trying to convince himself that it was just another phase of the inquisition. He would have felt eminently pleased at the way he had come through it, if only the inquisitor hadn’t looked so damnably disappointed.