Edward Marston - The railway viaduct

'What do you mean?' he asked with rasping authority.

'Inspector Colbeck came to my office,' replied Rogan.

'When?'

'This afternoon. Luckily, I was out.'

'How did you learn of his visit?'

'The other offices are leased to a firm of solicitors, Sir Marcus. One of their clerks spoke to the inspector. He said that I would be out all afternoon and was not expected to return. As it happens,' said Rogan, 'I did call in earlier this evening.'

'What did Colbeck want?'

'To speak to me, that's all.'

'Was he on his own or did he bring men with him?'

'He came alone. I take that as a good sign.'

'A good sign!' repeated the old man with asperity. 'First of all, you assure me that he will never connect you in a hundred years with what happened in France. Then, when he comes knocking on your door only days later, you describe it as a good sign.'

'I was referring to the fact that he was on his own, Sir Marcus.'

'It only takes one man to make an arrest.'

'That may not be the reason he came.'

'Why else?'

'To make enquiries, maybe,' said Rogan, hopefully. 'My name may have floated in front of him and he came to satisfy his curiosity. I felt that I should warn you, Sir Marcus, but it may be unnecessary. I can't see how Colbeck could possibly link me with the murder.'

'I can,' said the other. 'You slipped up somewhere.'

'But I covered my tracks very carefully.'

'So you tell me.'

'I did, Sir Marcus. I know how policemen work. I left no clues as to my name or my whereabouts.'

'Then how do you explain Colbeck's visit to your office?'

Rogan shrugged. 'I can't,' he admitted.

'So you come running here, you imbecile!' shouted Sir Marcus before downing the rest of his brandy. 'Did it never occur to you that Colbeck might have left a man to watch your office in case you returned? When you did, and learned what had happened, you might have led him all the way to my door.'

'Impossible!'

'How do you know?'

'Because I left the building by the rear exit,' said Rogan, 'and I changed cabs twice on my way here to throw off anyone who might be following. There was no one, Sir Marcus. I walked around the whole square to be sure before I even rang your bell.'

Sir Marcus put his glass on a table. Flipping his coat tails out of the way, he sank into a leather chair and ruminated for several minutes. Rogan remained on his feet, still trying to work out how Colbeck had managed to identify him as one of the culprits. Having taken such pains to hide behind anonymity, he felt distinctly uneasy, as if layers of protective clothing had suddenly and unaccountably been whisked off him. It made him shiver.

'Where will he go next?' said the old man. 'To your home?'

'No, Sir Marcus. He may have got to my office, but he'll never find out where I live. Even my closest friends don't know that. I keep my address secret and change it regularly. When I go back home tonight,' said Rogan, confidently. 'I'll do so without a qualm.'

'That's more than I'll do.'

'You're perfectly safe here.'

'Not as long as Inspector Colbeck is on the case.' His gaze shifted to the painting above the fireplace and hovered there for while. 'How many men of his standing do they have at Scotland Yard?'

'None at all.'

'He must have an assistant.'

'Victor Leeming was the man beaten up in France,' said Rogan. 'He's not even involved in the case anymore. Colbeck will miss him and that's to our advantage. From what I've heard, Leeming is hard-working and resolute.'

'There must be other capable men in the Department.'

'Not one of them can hold a candle to the Railway Detective.'

'So he is irreplaceable?'

'Completely, Sir Marcus.'

The old man stood up and walked across to stand in front of the fireplace. He looked up at the swirling action in the oil painting on the wall. As rich memories were ignited, he drew himself up to his full height and stood to attention. He could hear the sound of armed conflict and it brought a nostalgic smile to his lips. When he spoke to Rogan, he kept staring up at the battle of Waterloo.

'Did you ever serve in the army?' he asked.

'No, Sir Marcus.'

'A pity – it would have been the making of you. Military life gives a man the best start in life. It shapes his thinking. It imparts courage and teaches him the virtues of patriotism.'

'Nobody is more patriotic than me,' claimed Rogan.

'Winning a battle is quite simple,' said the old man. 'You have to kill your enemy before he can kill you.' He turned round. 'That way, you remove any threat to your life, liberty and prospects of happiness. Do you understand what I'm saying, Rogan?'

'Extremely well, Sir Marcus.'

'We have an enemy. He's trying to hunt the pair of us down.'

'What do wish me to do?'

'Get rid of Inspector Colbeck,' said the other. 'He's the one man with the intelligence to find us and I'll not let that happen. It's time for him to meet his Waterloo, I fancy. You have your orders, Rogan.'

'Yes, Sir Marcus.'

'Kill him.'

Superintendent Edward Tallis was in a buoyant mood for once. He had just received a letter from Thomas Brassey, expressing formal thanks for all the help that had been rendered by the Metropolitan Police Force. The commissioner had then complimented him on his wisdom in dispatching Robert Colbeck abroad and, even though Tallis had been strongly opposed to the notion, he was happy to claim some credit for it now that the French expedition had paid such dividends. But the main reason for the superintendent's good humour was that he was at last in possession of a murder suspect.

'Luke Rogan,' he said, rolling the name off his tongue.

'I have men out looking for him at this very moment, sir.'

'But you do not know his home address.'

'Not yet,' replied Colbeck.

'He sounds like a slippery customer.'

'He is, Superintendent.'

'A former policeman, operating on the wrong side of the law. That's very distressing,' said Tallis, clenching his teeth. 'It sets a bad example. He needs to be caught quickly, Inspector.'

'Rogan is not the only person we need,' Colbeck reminded him. 'He was merely the agent for someone else. The man who employed him is equally culpable.'

'Unfortunately, we do not have his name.'

'You are holding it in your hands, sir.'

They were in the superintendent's office and there was no sign of a cigar. Cool air blew in through a half-open window. When he had delivered his verbal report, Colbeck had also shown his superior the list of those who had attended Gaston Chabal's lecture. Tallis looked at it more closely and noticed something.

'Why have you put crosses against some of the names?'

'Those are the men I've been able to eliminate, sir.'

'How?' asked Tallis.

'Some of them – Alexander Marklew, for instance – invested a sizeable amount of money in the Mantes to Caen Railway. They are hardly likely to connive at the destruction of the project when they have a financial stake in it.'

'I accept that.'

'As for the other names I have set aside,' said Colbeck, 'that was done so on the advice of Mr Kane.'

'He's the secretary of this Society, isn't he?'

'Yes, sir. Once I had persuaded him to cooperate with me, he was extremely helpful. Mr Kane pointed out the civil engineers who were in the audience that day. Men who make their living from the railway,' Colbeck reasoned, 'would not be inclined to inflict damage on one. They would be violating an unwritten code.'

'So how many names are left?'

'Just over thirty.'

'It will take time to work through them all.'

'If we arrest Rogan, we'll not have to do so. He'll supply us with the name we want. It obviously belongs to a man of some wealth. He spent a large amount on this whole venture.'