Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [35]
“And you want him stopped,” Pitt realized aloud, knowing how intensely Voisey must hate the man who had so brilliantly taken over the position from which he had been driven.
“So do you,” Voisey said softly. “If he succeeds he will be one of the most powerful men in England. He will be the man who saved London from violence and chaos, who made it safe to walk the streets again, to sleep undisturbed in one’s own bed without fear of explosions, robbery, losing one’s home or one’s business. The commissioner’s office will be his for the asking.” His voice was thick with fury and loathing too powerful to conceal anymore. “And he will be in command of a private army of policemen, with guns and the power of search and seizure that will ensure no one dislodges him. He will continue to take tribute from organized crime, payment for being able to continue their extortion unmolested. If any ordinary man disobeys, or protests, he will be stopped in the street, or his house will be searched, and they will find he was in possession of stolen goods. Next thing he will be in prison, and his family destitute.”
An open landau passed by on the road, young women in pale dresses, parasols aloft, laughing and calling out to friends going the opposite way.
“No one will come to his aid,” Voisey continued, oblivious to them. “Because those with the power to will long since have been silenced. The police will not trust anyone because half of them will be Wetron’s anyhow, but no one will know which half. The government will look the other way, grateful for law and order. Is that what you want, Pitt? Or do you hate the idea as much as I do? It doesn’t matter what your reasons are.”
Pitt’s mind raced. Was it possible? Wetron’s ambition knew no bounds, but had he really the imagination and the nerve to try something so appalling? He knew the answer even as the question formed in his mind. Of course he had.
Voisey saw it, and slowly he relaxed, the panic dying out of his eyes. “Then ally with me,” Voisey said softly. “Help me prove what Wetron is doing, and stop him!”
Pitt hesitated. The hatred between them was like a razor-sharp blade.
“What is more important to you?” Voisey asked. “Your love of London and its people, or your hatred of me?”
Along the embankment a band played a dance tune. People below them on the river were laughing and calling out to one another. Somewhere in the distance a hurdy-gurdy was churning out a popular song. A girl’s hat blew off in the wind, ribbons flying.
“Hate is irrelevant,” Voisey said drily. “I trust you—to be predictable, anyway. Think about it. I have a seat in Parliament, and I know the Inner Circle. We can do better together than either of us can alone. Think what it is you want, Pitt. Remember, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’—at least until the battle is over. Think about it. Meet me tomorrow and give me your answer.”
Pitt needed more time. The whole idea was preposterous. Voisey was a dangerous man who hated Pitt and would destroy him at the first chance. It was only what Pitt knew—and had proof of, a carefully kept secret—that prevented Voisey from harming his family. Voisey had used his own sister, the only person in the world he loved, as his tool in a murder.
But the thought of Wetron using the anarchist threat to rise to power was too real to ignore. He knew it, and Voisey understood that.
“Day after tomorrow,” he said. “Where?”
Voisey smiled. “There’s no time for self-indulgence. Make it somewhere nice and public,” he replied. “How about midday, in the crypt of St. Paul’s, by Nelson’s tomb.”
Pitt drew in a long breath. He met Voisey’s eyes, and saw that he already knew Pitt would agree. He nodded. “I’ll be there.”
4
PITT DID NOT FEEL his usual pleasure as he let himself in at the front door in Keppel Street. Voisey had spoiled that. If Pitt as much as