No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [75]
Matthew attempted to smile in answer. Being here with Corcoran brought back memories with an intensity he had been unprepared for. The veil between past and present was too thin. “Well, neither airplanes nor submarines are going to crash off the road, if that is what you meant. But I don’t believe that was what happened. In fact, I’m sure it wasn’t.” He saw Corcoran’s eyes widen slightly. “Joseph and I went to the place,” he explained. “We saw the skid marks exactly where the car veered off. There was no oil.” He hesitated, then took the plunge. “Only a line of scratches, as if made by a row of iron caltrops across the tarmacadam.”
The silence was so heavy in the room that Matthew could hear the ticking of the long-case clock against the far wall as if it were beside him.
“What are you saying, Matthew?” Corcoran said at last.
Matthew leaned forward a little. “Father was on his way to see me in London. He called me up to arrange it the night before. I’ve never heard him more serious.”
“Oh? About what?” If Corcoran already had any idea, there was no indication of it in his face.
“He said he had discovered a conspiracy that was highly dishonorable and would eventually affect the whole world. He wanted my advice on it.”
Corcoran’s vivid blue eyes were unblinking. “Your professional advice?” he said cautiously.
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t have misunderstood?”
“No.” Matthew was not going to elaborate and perhaps put words into Corcoran’s mouth. Suddenly the conversation was no longer easy, or simply between friends.
“I knew he was concerned about something,” Corcoran said, looking at Matthew over the top of his steepled fingers. “But he didn’t confide in me. In fact, he was politely evasive, so I didn’t pursue it.”
“What did he say to you, exactly?” Matthew pressed.
Corcoran blinked. “Very little. Only that he was worried about the pressure in the Balkans—which we all are, but he seemed to think it were more explosive than I did.” Corcoran’s expression tightened, his lips a thin line. “It seems he was right. The assassination of the archduke is very ugly. They’ll demand reparation, and of course Serbia won’t pay. The Russians will back the Serbs, and Germany will back Austria. That’s inevitable.”
“And us?” Matthew asked. “That’s still a long way from Britain, and it has nothing to do with our honor.”
Corcoran was thoughtful for a moment. The ticking of the clock measured the silence in the room.
“The alliances are a web right across Europe,” he said at last. “We know some of them, but perhaps not all. It’s fears and promises that could be our undoing.”
“Do you think Father could possibly have known about the assassination before it happened?” It was a wild thought, but he was reduced to desperation.
Corcoran lifted his shoulders, but there was no incredulity in his face and no ridicule. “I can’t think how!” he answered. “If he had any connections with that part of the world, he didn’t mention them to me. He knew France and Germany well, and Belgium, too, I think. He had some relative who married a Belgian, I believe, a cousin he was fond of.”
“Yes, Aunt Abigail,” Matthew confirmed. “But what has Belgium to do with Serbia?”
“Nothing, so far as I know. But what puzzles me far more is that he should want to involve you professionally.” He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Matthew, but you know as well as I that he hated all secret services.”
“Yes, I know!” Matthew cut in sharply. “He wanted Joseph to go into medicine, and when Joseph didn’t, he wanted me to. He never really said why. . . .” He stopped, seeing surprise and a swift tenderness in Corcoran’s face.
“He didn’t tell you?” Corcoran