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“Republicans, Communists, Fascists, Daughters of the Revolution, Seventh Day Adventists … you name it. Hard to believe, but a fully employed population earning a living wage with provision for good health, equal status for coloured folks and immigrants of all races, and equal rights for women come pretty low on the agenda of the wealthy and privileged. But how to attack it without appearing inhumane? They tar it with the same brush as ‘communism’ and take this as the authority to stamp down hard on it in a self-righteous, patriotic hand-on-heart way. Their number includes some bankers and industrialists he hasn’t yet managed to haul on board and never will. And these same money-men are right here in London. Plotting and pla
HE WAITED TO see if Joe had got the point of his speech, which had been delivered with increasing urgency, his breath shortening, his jaw tightening.
“And coercing politicians into taking action against their better judgement?” Joe said. “That’s a crime, I’m sure. I don’t know exactly what we’d call it here but give me what you have and I’ll run them down and charge them with something high-sounding enough to shove them into the Bloody Tower for a spell. Perhaps an appointment with the axe man on Tower Green at dawn? If any Englishmen are involved, they’ll find that treason is still a capital offence.”
Kingstone’s sudden guffaw was alarming in the grim room. Armitage put a hand on his arm to steady him but he shook it off with u
“ ‘Assault on the gold standard with malice aforethought’? How does that sound? Because that would be hitting the nail on the head. That’s what it comes down to. Money and power. And a British bobby like you wouldn’t get near the men involved. They can spend millions on getting their way and then covering their tracks. They are men of the world, international power brokers. They stand to make grotesque amounts of money if the conference goes the way they’d prefer. If it doesn’t?” He spread his hands and shrugged. “No problem whatsoever. They can still make money. They just need to know for sure before the a
He looked down with anguish at the dead girl. “And this poor child? And her dancer’s toe? Why is she caught up in this net? A substitute? A token?… Oh, Lord! I see it! I’m not thinking straight! She’s an understudy, a stand-in, pushed on stage to play a dying role …” The enormity of the realisation seemed to make him reel. “Why? Where did they lay hands on her? They just used … killed and disfigured her in order to scare the hell out of me? Can I believe that? I don’t want to believe that. But it is believable because I’ve known them do worse harm for less gain. Used and thrown away.”
He was muttering to himself. Repeating words and phrases. His normally clipped, allusive style was reduced to fervid ramblings. Seeing Joe’s concern, he swallowed and pulled himself together. “And Natalia? She’s been used too. Tortured. Dead. I’ve accepted that. They don’t waste time. The next body you haul in will be hers. All to coerce a pigheaded, God-fearing, straight-talking Te
He was breathing fast, his limbs were twitching uncontrollably, his face, in the cold room, shone with perspiration. Joe was uneasy with his task but he knew he had to push Kingstone to the limits of his resilience.
“That’s how you interpret this scholarly bit of venom? I mean—it’s hardly ‘Pay up or you’re a go
The man shuddered and pulled away. “It is. That’s just a bit of theatre. They’re devilish but they’re human. They even like their bit of fun. And they’re clever. They can converse in ancient Greek, can you believe that? Shakespeare? That’s for dumbos like me … they could give you the whole of the Iliad at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave me to squirm a bit, but not for long. They won’t waste any more time on me. I’m expendable. No—worse than that—I’m a walking liability. If she’s dead, I have nothing more to lose. I’m a loose ca
His head went down with the abrupt, sobbing despair of a wi
They couldn’t reach him, so far had he sunk. Joe had seen many strong men broken by circumstance and he knew that Kingstone had put his finger on it when he’d claimed, crazily, “they’re targeting the inside of my head.” A series of incessant, calculated, malicious blows—possibly more than Kingstone had declared to anyone—had laid the senator low. Joe was tempted for a moment to produce the slim hip flask of scotch he kept inside his jacket for just such crises of confidence but a glance at the puritan features of the pathologist dissuaded him from the simple soldier’s gesture.
Armitage turned a distraught face to Joe with a silent plea. When it came to protecting his boss, Bill could out-gun, out-run and out-wrestle anyone, Joe guessed, but he had no skills to save him from the mental collapse that seemed to be taking place before their eyes. He had no idea what to do next.
It was the doctor who stepped in. “Have a seat, sir.” With brisk authority, he pushed forward a chair and, hand on shoulder, eased Kingstone onto it.
In instant understanding and collusion, Julia pulled up another one for herself and settled down, side by side with the senator. Her pat on his thigh was a na
Humming a jaunty air from Cosi Fan Tutti, Rippon casually took Kingstone’s wrist and began to check his pulse. The routine, authoritative gesture seemed to calm Kingstone a little. “Fine,” he said. “Racing just a little. One quite sees why!” He pulled down a lower eyelid, peered at the colour and nodded approval. “Well—I’d say you were a man in the pink of health and the prime of life, Mr. Kingstone. Yes?”
Kingstone nodded dumbly.
Rippon hummed another bar, then cracked open Kingstone’s starched collar and removed it, along with his tie. “The window, Sandilands, if you wouldn’t mind. Your friend needs some air. These fumes can be very debilitating if you’re not used to them.” He turned back to address Kingstone. “I’d further guess—a man of physical action? A soldier?”