Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [134]
Wetron regained his balance, at least outwardly. “A pity I couldn’t take him alive,” he said bitterly. “That way he might have testified against others. Now, of course, he can’t.”
“No doubt that was in his mind also,” Pitt said ambiguously. He shook his arm free of Wetron’s grip and opened the door, leaving Tellman to follow or not, as he wished. In a way he hoped he would not.
He closed the door.
Inside the room it was silent in the morning sun, the closed windows kept out the sound of traffic below, and they were several floors up anyway. There was no sound of voices from the corridors, or from the walks by the river.
Everything was tidy. There were no signs of any struggle, as if whatever conflict they had had, it had been entirely verbal, a battle of wits rather than body against body.
Charles Voisey lay on the carpet between his desk and the window. He was half on his left side, his hand crooked, the neat bullet hole like a third eye in his forehead. There was no surprise on his face, only irritation. He had seen it coming, and knew his mistake.
Pitt stared down at him, wondering if Voisey had known that he had failed last night, and that Pitt was still alive. Was there some vision after death that would enable him to know it now? Or did whatever soul there was concern itself only with what lay ahead?
Would Mrs. Cavendish be distraught? Who was there to tell her? Her family, other friends? In all their conversations, Voisey had never mentioned other friends. Allies, people over whom he had power, but not anyone who would miss him simply because they had liked him.
Pitt had almost liked him. He had been clever, sometimes he had made Pitt laugh, he had been intensely alive, capable of passion, curiosity, and need. There was an emptiness because he was gone.
“You’re a fool,” Pitt said aloud to Voisey. “You didn’t have to do this. You could have been…lots of things. You had the chance.” He stared down at the body. “What the hell did you do with the proof…if you ever had it?”
Was it even worth looking for? Wouldn’t Wetron have thought of it, and done all he could to tamper with it? He would have left only what incriminated Voisey rather than himself.
A deeper sense of defeat settled over Pitt, an anger and a sadness. He had fought against Voisey for a long time, and suffered intense loss at his hands. And yet he realized he still would not have had it end this way. What had he wanted? He realized with surprise that the answer was absurd. He had wanted Voisey to change. That was never likely to have happened. He was angry with him for it, angry with Wetron, and angry with himself for not having been clever enough to beat him.
There was a knock on the door. It would be people to take the body away. He could not keep them waiting. There was no debate over what had happened, Wetron had told as much of the truth as could be proved, so he had no reason to keep the body back as evidence.
“Come in,” he answered.
An hour later he left the Houses of Parliament. Tellman had already gone with Wetron. He had had no choice: Wetron was his superior and had ordered him to. Pitt had searched Voisey’s office as much as he could. Many drawers were locked, and he had been told they contained government papers to which he could be given no access. He had found nothing useful in the rest. The proof regarding the dynamite on the Josephine, Grover’s involvement, and all the papers incriminating Simbister were already with the authorities. They were what Voisey had used to prove Simbister’s guilt.
He went back to Keppel Street, going that way first almost without thinking about it. Then he realized that Narraway might still be there, expecting him to come back, and Charlotte and Vespasia certainly would be. He had to allow Tellman to do as Wetron commanded. That was just one other aspect of defeat. He dare not defy him, or Tellman would pay.
As soon as he opened the front door