Southampton Row - Anne Perry [3]
“Not precisely.”
“Not even approximately!” Pitt started to rise.
“Sit down!” Narraway ordered with a suppressed rage making his voice cut like a blow.
Pitt sat more out of surprise than obedience.
“You handled the Whitechapel business well,” Narraway said in a calm, quiet voice, leaning back again and crossing his legs. “You have courage, imagination and initiative. You even have morality. You defeated the Inner Circle in court, although you might have thought twice had you known it was they you were against. You are a good detective, the best I have, God help me!” he replied. “Most of my men are more used to explosives and assassination attempts. You did well to defeat Voisey at all, but your turning of the murder on its head to have him knighted for saving the throne was brilliant. It was the perfect revenge. His republican friends regard him as the arch-traitor to the cause.” The merest smile touched Narraway’s lips. “He was once their future president. Now they wouldn’t allow him to lick stamps.”
It should have been the highest praise, yet looking at Narraway’s steady, shadowed eyes, Pitt felt only awareness of danger.
“He will never forgive you for it,” Narraway observed as casually as if he had done no more than remark the time.
Pitt’s throat tightened so his answer was scratchy. “I know that. I had never imagined he would. But you also said at the end of the affair that it would be nothing so simple as physical violence.” His hands were stiff, his body cold, not for himself but for Charlotte and the children.
“It won’t be,” Narraway said gently. For an instant there was a softness in his face, then it was gone again. “But he has turned your stroke of genius to his own use, that is his genius.”
Pitt cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“He is a hero! Knighted by the Queen for saving the throne,” Narraway said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, a sudden passion of bitterness twisting his face. “He is going to stand for Parliament!”
Pitt was stunned. “What?”
“You heard what I said! He is standing for Parliament, and if he wins he will use the Inner Circle to rise very quickly to high office. He has resigned his place on the Appeal Court Bench and taken to politics. The next government will be Conservative, and it will not be long in coming. Gladstone won’t last. Apart from the fact that he is eighty-three, Home Rule will finish him.” His eyes did not move from Pitt’s face. “Then we will see Voisey as Lord Chancellor, head of the Empire’s judiciary! He will have the power to corrupt any court in the land, which means in the end, all of them.”
It was appalling, but Pitt could already see how it was possible. Every argument died on his lips before he spoke it.
Narraway relaxed fractionally, an easing of the muscles so slight it was barely visible. “He’s standing for the South Lambeth seat.”
Pitt quickly thought of his London geography. “Wouldn’t that take in Camberwell, or Brixton?”
“Both.” Narraway’s eyes were steady. “And yes, it’s a Liberal seat, and he’s Conservative. But that doesn’t ease my mind, and if it eases yours, then you’re a fool!”
“It doesn’t,” Pitt said coldly. “He’ll have a reason. There’ll be somebody he can bribe or intimidate, some place where the Inner Circle has its power he can use. Who is the Liberal candidate?”
Narraway nodded very slowly, still looking at Pitt. “A new man, one Aubrey Serracold.”
Pitt asked the obvious. “Is he Inner Circle, and will stand down at the last moment, or throw the election in some other way?”
“No.” Narraway said it with certainty, but he did not explain how he knew. If he had sources somewhere deep inside the Inner Circle, he did not disclose them, even to his own men. Pitt would have thought less of him if he had. “If I could see where it was coming from, or how, I wouldn’t need you to stay in London and watch,” Narraway continued. “Throwing you out of Bow Street may prove to be one of their greatest mistakes.