We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [140]
The taxi stopped a block away from Calder Shearing’s office, where Matthew had told him to go. He paid and got out, thanking the man, then turned and walked as swiftly as he could, grateful that the taxi had pulled away from the curb. He went to the entrance and was admitted as soon as he identified himself.
He was kept waiting in the outer room only moments before Matthew appeared, his face filled with relief. “Got it?” he asked.
“Of course. Is everyone here?”
“Yes. No trouble?”
“None at all. You?”
Matthew smiled. “Nothing that matters now.”
“What happened?” Joseph demanded.
“Difficulty getting petrol,” Matthew replied. “Once we were stopped by police, and I was terrified it was another attempt by the Peacemaker, but it was just because I was going too fast. Come upstairs and we’ll show Shearing the treaty.” He turned and led the way.
Inside Shearing’s office Judith, Lizzie, Mason, and Schenckendorff were already waiting. Calder Shearing stood behind his desk, his face dark and tense, his eyes bright.
Wordlessly, Joseph handed him the treaty between the kaiser of Germany and the king of England with which the Peacemaker had proposed to create an Anglo-German empire to dominate the world, and to achieve peace by betraying France and the Low Countries to Germany, with Britain taking back all the old empire, including the Americas.
Shearing read it, his face filling first with quiet, bitter amazement, and then with fury. He picked up his telephone and placed a call to No. 10, Downing Street. When he was finished he looked at them one by one. “Are you ready, gentlemen?” he asked, although his glance included Judith and Lizzie. “The prime minister will see us.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
In deference to Schenckendorff’s injured foot—which was still severely painful—they traveled in two cars. Alighting outside No. 10, Downing Street, they were shown in immediately.
David Lloyd George was not a tall man, but he had a dynamism of character and a music in his voice that commanded attention. His inner energy, even after the terrible years of struggle, filled and dominated the room. He looked from one to the other of them. His main interest fell first on Mason, then on Schenckendorff, but he did not fail to notice the women, especially Judith. He had never in his life failed to perceive the beauty of a woman, and far too seldom had he failed to enjoy it as fully as opportunity allowed.
“Well?” he asked Shearing. “This had better be quick, and it had better be damn good! Which of you is going to explain to me what the devil you are talking about?”
Shearing indicated Matthew. “Lieutenant Colonel Matthew Reavley, one of my men.” He did not bother to introduce the others yet. They could be mentioned as their parts in the story arose.
Matthew stepped forward. “Sir—”
“Speak, man!” Lloyd George commanded, waving his hand to order the rest of them to sit—or as many of them as there were chairs for. “Forget the niceties. What is this tale of yours?”
Matthew began. “On the night of June 27, 1914, my father, John Reavley, telephoned me from St. Giles in Cambridgeshire to say that he had found a document that could change the history of the world, and shame Britain forever, if it were put into effect. He said he would bring it to me the following day.”
Lloyd George blinked. “Twenty-seventh of June, 1914?”
“Yes, sir. My mother and father set out the next day, and were murdered on the way, in a car accident. That was, as you know, the same day as the assassination of the archduke and duchess in Sarajevo. After much difficulty and more tragic murders, my brother, Joseph, and I found where my father hid the document. We read it and replaced it where it was.”
“Why in God’s name—” After a glance at Shearing’s face, Lloyd George stopped abruptly. “What was it, and why does it matter now?”
Wordlessly Joseph took the treaty out of his inner pocket and spread it on the table