Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [127]
He had progressed from that through the finding of the explosives on the Josephine, proof that they were placed there by Grover, and his close connection with Simbister. He added a dramatic account of Grover’s attempted murder of Voisey himself, and an unnamed officer of Special Branch, whose identity needed to be protected.
It made exciting reading. The outrage at such an abuse of power shone through it, lighting it with emotion and humanity. It was obviously a story that would unfold through the next days, perhaps weeks. Every reader would be purchasing the newspapers hot off the stands to follow it.
Denoon’s paper carried it also, but with a more subdued note, sounding bewildered that such a tragedy could have come to pass. Surely it would be explained soon, and put right. It must be a single instance of criminality. That was the only credible explanation.
Even so, Tanqueray’s bill to arm the police and give them greater power must be delayed. It was intolerable to allow a man such as Simbister to be in charge of an armed force.
“It will be a short respite,” Narraway said grimly. “Without proof that it’s connected to Wetron as well, it can be passed over as a single corrupt man leading astray one station.”
Gracie had put on the kettle, and it was beginning to blow a light breath of steam. She stood with her back to it, having glanced at Tellman and met his eyes in a short moment of understanding. The cups were sitting on the kitchen table, a jug of milk from the pantry, a bowl of sugar if anyone wanted it, and the tea caddy had been brought down ready.
“It seems Sir Charles is a hero once again,” Vespasia said drily. She was sitting on one of the hardback chairs.
Charlotte was standing by the dresser with its blue and white china. She was too tense to sit. She gave a sharp bark of laughter. “I wish we could think of a way to turn this against him too!” She was referring to the time they had outwitted him over Mario Corena’s death.
Narraway looked at her. His expression was curious, unreadable. There was emotion in his face, but it was impossible to tell what it was. “I think he has turned our wit upon us this time,” he said, first to her, but in a sense to all of them. If he thought that it was Pitt who had given him the opportunity, it was not implied, even in the tone of his voice. “I think he has used Special Branch as his cat’s paw to pull out his prizes, then take them from us at exactly the right time.”
“There must be something we can do!” Charlotte protested. She looked from one to the other of them. “If we haven’t any power or any weapons, can’t we turn their own against them somehow?”
Narraway stared at her. A tiny thread of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, but it was amusement, there was no joy in it.
Vespasia understood, Charlotte could see it in her eyes. She was a woman also, and grasped exactly the train of thought. If you are clever enough, know your opponent well enough, weakness can be turned into strength.
“Let us list everything we know of them,” she said aloud. “Some combination of things may occur to us.” She looked at Tellman. “Sergeant, you have worked for Wetron since Thomas left Bow Street. You must have made observations and formed judgments about him. What does he wish for? What might he fear? Is there anyone he cares about, other than himself? Anyone whose good opinion he either values or requires?”
When Tellman had recovered from his initial surprise that she should ask him, he thought hard. It was not his usual way of addressing a problem, and needed a little mental adjustment.
They all waited. The kettle boiled and Gracie made the tea, setting the pot on the table so it could brew before it was poured.
“Power,” Tellman answered, uncertain if that was what Vespasia wanted.
“Glory?” she asked.
He was taken aback.
Pitt thought of covering for him, then bit his tongue.
“Does he like to be admired, loved?” Vespasia elaborated.
“I don’t think so,” Tellman answered. “I reckon he prefers if we’re afraid of him. He likes