At Some Disputed Barricade_ A Novel - Anne Perry [53]
And of course there was always his own superior, Calder Shearing. Matthew liked Shearing. He understood his sudden explosions of temper when stupidity caused unnecessary loss. He admired both his intelligence and his emotional energy, the strength of will that drove him to work until he was exhausted, the patience to pursue every chain of reasoning, to wait, to watch and go over and over details meticulously. He was honest enough to admit his errors, and he never took credit for another man’s work. But more than any of these things, Matthew liked his dry wit, the laughter he saw in Shearing’s eyes even when the appreciation was wordless.
None of these things altered the fact that even after five years working with him, he did not know anything about Shearing beyond those boundaries. He seemed to have no personal life. He never spoke of family either past or present. He was widely knowledgeable but he never spoke of a school or university. Nothing seemed to be known of him but the present.
Could he be the Peacemaker? Yes, of course it was possible. The thought was both frightening and painful, like so much else.
“Matthew! How good to see you.” Aidan Thyer came into the Master’s Lodge sitting room, his hand outstretched. He was a slender man with flaxen-pale hair, which flopped forward onto his brow, and a sensitive, highly intelligent face. Matthew remembered now with sudden regret that Thyer’s beautiful wife, Connie, had loved another man. It was honor and probably affection that kept her loyal. But it was not love, and Thyer knew it.
“How are you, sir?” he asked aloud, taking Thyer’s offered hand. The courtesy title came to him naturally. Matthew had not studied at St. John’s, but the respect for a master of college was innate.
“Well, thank you,” Thyer replied. “Although the casualty lists are worse than any nightmare. I heard just the other day that Nigel Eardslie was lost in Passchendaele. He was one of Joseph’s students, you know.”
“I’m sorry.” There was nothing more to say.
“Sit down.” Thyer waved to a chair, and took the one opposite. “I’m sure you must have lost friends as well. There’s no one in England who hasn’t. Europe has become an abattoir. But no doubt you didn’t come here to discuss that. What can I do for you?”
“Alan Wheatcroft was a student of yours some time ago,” Matthew began. Thyer knew he was in intelligence; there was no purpose whatever in being overdiscreet.
Thyer sighed. “Unfortunate,” he said quietly. “Yes, I heard about it, of course. Very foolish. End of a fine career.”
“You think he was guilty?” Matthew asked.
“Probably of nothing more than indiscretion,” Thyer replied. “And a startling naïveté. What did he imagine a good-looking boy was doing hanging around in a public toilet? He should have given the boy a wide berth and not even spoken to him, let alone indulged in a conversation.”
“And Corracher?”
“Corracher? Tom Corracher?” Thyer’s fair eyebrows rose. “How is he involved?”
“Wheatcroft’s defense is that the whole episode was set up to blackmail him, by Tom Corracher,” Matthew replied.
Thyer was incredulous. “For God’s sake, what for? Money?”
“Yes, to begin with. Once you’ve paid money to keep quiet over something, then you establish a precedent. It’s as good as an admission. After that, other things can be asked for: favors in office, information, the right vote. The list is endless.”
“What a damnable mess.” Thyer’s face was filled with distaste but his eyes never left Matthew’s. “What is it you imagine I can do that would be of service to intelligence?”
“Wheatcroft is going to take Corracher down with him,” Matthew began.
“You don’t think Wheatcroft will survive this?” Thyer asked. “No, probably not. That sort of mud sticks once it’s public.” He pulled his mouth down at the corners. “Still, if he was ill-advised enough to get caught out in such behavior and leave himself open to blackmail,