Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [76]
It had to be London, otherwise it was pointless to lure Pitt away from it.
Gower. In fifteen or twenty minutes Pitt would be inside the walls of St Malo again, back to their lodgings. Almost certainly Gower would be there waiting for him. Suddenly he was no longer the pleasant, ambitious young man he had seemed only this morning. Now he was a clever and extremely dangerous stranger, a man Pitt knew only in the most superficial way. He knew that Gower slept well, that his skin burned in the sun, that he liked chocolate cake, that he was occasionally careless when he shaved himself. He was attracted to women with dark hair and he could sing rather well. Pitt had no idea where he came from, what he believed, or even where his loyalties were – all the things that mattered, that would govern what he would do when the mask was off.
Now suddenly Pitt must wear a mask as well. His own life might depend on it. He remembered with a chill how efficiently West had been killed, his throat cut in one movement, and his body left on the stones, bleeding to death. One error and Pitt could end the same way. Who in St Malo would think it more than a horrific street crime? No doubt Gower would be first on the scene again, full of horror and dismay.
There was no one Pitt could turn to. No one in France even knew who he was, and London could be in another world for all the help it could offer now. Even if he sent a telegram to Narraway it would make no difference. Gower would simply disappear, anywhere in Europe.
He started to walk again. The sun was on the horizon and within minutes it would be gone. It would be almost dark by the time he was within the vast city walls. He had perhaps fifteen minutes to make up his mind. He must be totally prepared once he reached the house. One mistake, one slip, and it would be his last.
He thought of the chase to the East End, and finally the railway station. He realised with acute self-blame how easily Gower had led him, always making sure they did not lose Wrexham completely, and yet the chase seemed natural enough to be real. They lost him momentarily, and it was always Gower who found him. It was Gower who stopped Pitt from arresting him, pointing out the use of watching him and learning more. Gower had had enough money in his pocket to buy tickets on the ferry.
Come to that, it was Gower who said he had seen Linsky and Meister, and Pitt had believed him.
What was Wrexham? Part of the plan to take Pitt away from London, knowing precisely what he was doing, and why? Then why had he not actually killed West? Too squeamish? Too afraid? Not paid enough?
Of course Pitt must go back to London; the question was what to say to Gower. What reason should he give? He would know there was no message from Lisson Grove. Had there been, it would have been delivered to the house, and simple enough to check on anyway. All Gower would have to do was ask at the post office.
The sun was already half gone, a burning orange semicircle above the purple horizon. Shadows were deepening right across the road.
Should Pitt try to elude him, simply go straight to the harbour now, and wait for the next boat to Southampton? But that might not be till tomorrow morning; and Gower would realise what had happened, and come after him some time during the night. Pitt didn’t even have the rest of his clothes with him. He was wearing only a light jacket in the warm afternoon.
The idea of fighting Gower here was not to be considered. Even if he could subdue him – and that was doubtful; Gower was younger and extremely fit –