Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [38]
Pitt smiled bitterly, thinking of Welling and Carmody, and Magnus Landsborough, whom he had never known. “Like the anarchists, who want to bomb things without considering how they can replace them.”
“Is that what they said?” Jack looked curious.
“That surprises you?”
“I suppose it depends. The old theory of anarchy isn’t very practical; at least I don’t think so. It relies too much on the inherent good nature of mankind. It believes that wise men should learn to rule their own behavior, away from the interference of governments.” He smiled a little bitterly. “Trouble is, who is to decide who is wise and who isn’t? And what do we do about those who are lazy, or inadequate, or simply don’t want to contribute to the general welfare? There are always going to be the sick, the old, the foolish, not to mention the rebellious. Who is going to take care of them? Who is going to curb the bully or the liar, or the thief? It needs to be done by common consent, and so we’re back to government again.”
“And police,” Pitt agreed. “There’s something else. Yesterday, on the embankment, I met Voisey.”
Jack stiffened. “Voisey!”
Pitt told him what Voisey had said of Wetron’s ambitions to rise until he effectively governed the whole city.
“God in Heaven!” Jack said violently. Then he deliberately lowered his voice, aware of drawing attention to himself from a group of men passing by. “He’s mad! Isn’t he?” he asked incredulously. “What does Victor Narraway think?”
“I don’t know,” Pitt admitted. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“And exactly when are you intending to do that?”
“When I leave here.”
“Don’t trust Voisey!” Jack said with intense urgency. “He’ll forgive nothing and forget nothing. He wanted to be president of Britain, and it was largely you who stopped him, with Lady Vespasia’s help, and he won’t have forgotten that either.”
“I know,” Pitt assured him. “I’d be head of Bow Street, not Wetron, if Voisey hadn’t had me thrown out. Does any of that make the charge against Wetron untrue?”
Jack stared at him, his face pale. The wind was rising, whipping at his hair. “No,” he said reluctantly. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. What does Voisey want? He didn’t tell you without wanting something.”
“He wants me to work with him to prevent Wetron from succeeding,” Pitt answered.
“You can’t!” Jack was appalled. “Thomas, you can’t work with Voisey! He’ll stab you in the back the first chance he gets. For God’s sake, you know that!”
“Yes, I do.” Pitt turned up his coat collar. “But I also know that he could be right, and if he is, Wetron would end with virtual control of London, and the heart of the whole Empire.”
Jack did not answer. They stood in silence thinking over the enormity of the possibility.
“And there is another thing,” Pitt said at last, starting to walk back the way they had come. “What if Wetron is not quite as clever as he thinks, and he is betrayed from within the Circle, perhaps by someone with foreign sympathies. Is the conspiracy confined to England? I don’t know. But even if it is, some men can be bought for money, or power, or any of a dozen other things. An Inner Circle member could be a traitor to England quite easily. It has been torn apart by factions before, and the leadership changed. That is how Wetron got rid of Voisey. It could happen again.”
Jack’s eyes were dim cast, his face furrowed in unhappiness. “You don’t think Voisey is simply making this up so he can use you to destroy Wetron?” he suggested, but with no belief in his voice. “He must hate him even more than he hates you. What could be more satisfying than to pit your enemies against each other? No matter who loses, you win, and the survivor may well be sufficiently weakened that you can finish him off too.”
“I know that.” Pitt did know it, with a sickening certainty that knotted in his stomach. “Can we afford to stand apart from it?