Read 11 - Ticket to Oblivion Online
Authors: Edward Marston
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical
Madeleine disliked their new assistant from the outset. He seemed too glib and devious for her taste. It was evident that he wanted to be the one to catch the fugitives and claim the credit. Colbeck decided to forget their past differences and exploit the man’s skills. By working for Tunnadine, he’d earned a place in the investigation and was eager. The blow delivered by Cullen had wounded Kee’s head and his pride. He wanted revenge, always a powerful incentive.
When the ship docked, they were among the first to disembark. Colbeck had already given them their orders.
Having spoken to the captain of the vessel, he’d learnt the names of the best hotels in Dublin and deployed his men accordingly. Leeming was sent off in one direction with a shortlist of names while Kee went to check out hotels in the opposite direction. Colbeck and Madeleine would work their way through a third list. He stressed that nobody was to tackle the kidnappers on his own. If they were discovered, he was to alert the others when they met at an agreed location at the heart of the city.
Leeming went off with resolute strides but Kee fairly scampered away.
‘I don’t like him, Robert,’ said Madeleine. ‘He’s too sly.’
‘Since I’m landed with him, I have to use him.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t send them off together. Victor obviously detests him.’
‘Yes, Kee is an unprepossessing individual,’ said Colbeck, sighing. ‘He’s also a potential weakness, which is why I hope we find the kidnappers first.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘Captain Whiteside and his accomplice have never seen us. We have the advantage of surprise. Alban Kee doesn’t. He was knocked unconscious by Sergeant Cullen. If he turns up at their hotel, he might be recognised.’
Sir Marcus Burnhope was under immense strain. Expecting to be contacted by the kidnappers yet again, he kept going to the window in the library and peering out. The rest of them were there but, in the tense atmosphere, nobody dared to speak. Percy Vaughan was seated beside his aunt so that she could draw strength from his presence. A nervous Emma was on the sofa, flanked by her parents. Vaughan was looking
enviously around the shelves and Cassandra, for once, was silent, her effervescence sapped by the seriousness of the situation. When Sir Marcus was at rest, the only sound in the room was the methodical ticking of the ormolu clock on the marble mantelpiece. When it chimed on the hour, they were all startled.
Without any of the detectives, Sir Marcus felt bereft. Tallis was in London but the whereabouts of Colbeck and Leeming were unknown. It left Sir Marcus feeling isolated. If a ransom demand did come, he wanted someone there to advise him. It irked him to think he might have to pay the kidnappers twice yet he’d do so if it would ensure his daughter’s release. Hands behind his back, he did a circuit of the library, impervious to the others. He was about to return to his seat when he heard hoof beats approaching the house at speed. As he darted to the window, he found Dominic Vaughan beside him, equally anxious to see who the newcomer was. A figure in uniform galloped up to the front of the house and reined in his horse before dismounting.
‘Stay here,’ said Sir Marcus, heading for the door.
The others waited for several minutes before he returned. Desperate for news, they were all on their feet at once. He waved a piece of paper in the air.
‘This was sent to the telegraph station at Shrub Hill,’ he announced. ‘It’s a message from Superintendent Tallis.’
‘What does it say?’ croaked his wife.
‘Inspector Colbeck has gone to Ireland.’
Cassandra voiced the general dismay. ‘What is Imogen doing
there
?’
The loss of Rhoda Wills was a devastating blow to Imogen. The woman had been both friend and fellow prisoner, sharing the same privations and doing her best to keep their morale high. It was thanks to Rhoda that they’d attempted to escape and, even though they’d failed, they had the satisfaction of knowing that they’d done something positive instead of just meekly waiting to see what would happen to them. Their punishment had been separation. Together, they could support each other; apart, they were powerless. When she stood at the window of her hotel room, Imogen looked down on pretty rows of Georgian houses with a pleasing symmetry. People were hurrying to and fro on foot or by cab. While they were enjoying the precious gift of freedom, Imogen was locked away, dreading the moment when Terence Whiteside would return to claim his prize. She was in purgatory.
Whiteside was in the hotel bar, savouring a celebratory drink with Cullen. They sat in a quiet corner and congratulated themselves on their achievement. Their haul was big enough to keep both of them in a state of prosperity for the rest of their lives, with the added bonus – at least in the short term – of an attractive mistress for each of them. Cullen was practical.
‘How long do we keep them?’
‘They can stay until we tire of them, Manus.’
‘Then what happens? We can hardly let them go now.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Whiteside. ‘Enjoy what we have to the full before we think of getting rid of it. Before that, of course, we can divide the spoils.’
‘What about the jewellery?’
‘That belongs to Imogen.’
‘I think we should have half each.’
‘Then you’re very much mistaken.’
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Cullen. ‘It’s worth a fortune. I’m not going to miss out on my share of that. All right,’ he went on, sensing his friend’s hostility, ‘let her keep it as long as she’s with us but, when we dispose of her, it’s a different story.’
‘Don’t get too greedy,’ said Whiteside.
‘And don’t you get too forgetful. Fifty-fifty was the split we agreed and you’ve already reneged on that, Terence.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Then take a look at the ladies side by side. You get the real beauty and I have to make do with the other one. That’s not fifty-fifty,’ he joked. ‘By rights, we ought to take it in turns with Sir Marcus’s daughter.’
‘She’s all mine,’ warned Whiteside, picking up his glass, ‘and so is her jewellery for the time being. Bear that in mind, Manus.’
While they discussed their plans and enjoyed their drink, they were both thinking about what awaited them upstairs. Whiteside was patient but Cullen’s mind kept drifting. In the end, he excused himself and sauntered out of the bar on his way to an enforced tryst with Rhoda Wills. Seconds later, he was back.
‘Terence,’ he said, sitting beside him, ‘he’s out there.’
‘Who is?’
‘It’s that detective I knocked out in Crewe. He’s
followed
us. We haven’t escaped, after all.’
‘Calm down, calm down,’ said Whiteside. ‘Is the fellow alone?’
‘He seemed to be.’
‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. If he was hiding behind that hedge, he may have seen me but not you.’
‘That’s true. He won’t know me from Adam.’
Whiteside stood up. ‘What was he doing?’
‘He was talking to the manager.’
‘Get out there and keep an eye on him,’ said the other, easing him towards the door. ‘I’ll sneak off upstairs. Let me know what he does and how you think we should react. Remind me of his name.’
‘Alban Kee.’
Kee had done it so many times before that he was an old hand. When he’d asked for information about hotel guests, managers had invariably become indignant and told him that it was against their policy to disclose details of any kind to strangers. All that Kee had to do was to slip some banknotes into the manager’s palm and the hotel register was suddenly open to him. He felt a glow of triumph when he saw the name of Terence Whiteside, ostensibly travelling with his wife. In the next room, Manus Cullen was staying with Mrs Cullen. Kee was thrilled. Those were the names given to him by Colbeck. He’d found the kidnappers.
His orders were to go to the meeting place and await the others. Since the guests were booked in, they would not be going anywhere. Kee could come back with reinforcements and the arrests could be made. On the other hand, if he caught both men himself, he could bask in the glory. After seeing such a display of courage and enterprise, Tallis was bound to have him back in Scotland Yard. Kee would not only have proved his mettle, he would have outshone
Robert Colbeck at last. There would be a substantial reward from Sir Marcus Burnhope and the kind of lavish praise in the newspapers that he had always sought.
The decision was made. They were his.
Colbeck was getting both restive and annoyed with himself. He and Madeleine had been waiting for some time in Sackville Street, the grand thoroughfare that ran through the middle of Dublin, lending a grace and elegance that was reminiscent of towns like Bath and Cheltenham. The street was wide enough to allow a carriage and four horses to turn in a circle and there was a bright cleanliness about the city that would put most of the districts of London to shame. Leeming had been to the four hotels on his list without success. Colbeck and Madeleine had visited the same number.
‘Where is he?’ asked Leeming, irritably. ‘He only had three on his list.’
‘Well, it’s not because he was slow,’ said Madeleine. ‘When he left here, he went off like a greyhound.’
‘I blame myself,’ said Colbeck, looking in vain down the street. ‘I shouldn’t have left him alone. I thought we could cover the hotels more quickly if we split up.’
‘Do you remember the places where he went?’
‘Yes, Madeleine.’
‘What was the last one on the list?’
He took out a sheet of paper and checked it. ‘The Belvedere,’ he said.
Alban Kee was careful. He familiarised himself with the geography of the hotel so that he knew where all the
exits were. His first target was Manus Cullen. According to Colbeck, it was Terence Whiteside who’d been there on two occasions to take the ransom from Sir Marcus. It was reasonable to expect that he’d done the same with Tunnadine. Because he was lying unconscious behind a hedge, Kee never had the opportunity to take a long look at Whiteside but if the latter did confront Tunnadine, then the man who clubbed the detective to the ground had to be Cullen. As he recalled the blow, Kee’s whole skull throbbed. It was time for retribution.
He ducked into a space beneath the main staircase so that he could check and load his gun before thrusting it into the holster under his coat. Hat in hand, he went up the stairs to the room where Cullen and his wife were apparently staying. First, he listened at the door but could hear neither voices nor movement inside. When he tried knocking, he got no response yet sensed that somebody was in the room. He knocked harder and stood back. Someone came up the stairs and saw him.
‘Good day to you, sir,’ said Cullen, genially. ‘May I help you?’
‘I was just calling on a friend but he doesn’t seem to be there.’
‘Is he a good friend of yours, sir?’
‘As a matter of fact, he is.’
‘Then I daresay you’d like to give him a pleasant surprise. My name is Peter O’Malley and I’m the deputy manager. If you can guarantee that you are what you say you are, then I’ll be happy to use my pass key to let you in.’
Reassured by the sound of an Irish voice, Kee invented a plausible tale about his putative friendship with the
very man standing next to him. By way of showing his credentials, he added all kinds of details.
‘Hold on, sir,’ said Cullen, laughing. ‘That’s enough. I’m convinced that you’re the gentleman’s friend. In we go.’ Producing the key, he inserted it in the lock and turned it. He opened the door and stood back to let Kee enter the room first, going in after him. ‘There you are, sir. Your friend will be delighted to see you.’
Kee was staring at the woman who’d jumped up from her chair in alarm.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘My name is Rhoda Wills, sir.’
‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Then you’ve found her at last,’ said Cullen.
Kee hadn’t realised that the man was standing directly behind him. Hand on his gun, he swung round but he was no match for the Irishman. Cullen had already taken out a long-bladed knife and he thrust it between Kee’s ribs with shuddering force. When the detective fell against him, Cullen lowered him gently to the ground and watched the blood staining his victim’s shirt and waistcoat. Rhoda drew back against the wall in horror with a hand over her eyes. Cullen put an arm round her and held the blade close to her face.
‘One word out of you and it will be
your
blood on this knife next.’ Tearing the coverlet off the bed, he threw it over the dead body and grinned. ‘He’d only himself to blame,’ he said. ‘He was a private detective hired by Tunnadine and he’d never learnt to watch his back. This is the result.’
Cullen went out again and locked the door behind him.
He walked over to Whiteside’s room and banged on the door with a fist. It was opened instantly.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Whiteside.
‘I had to kill him. We need to leave.’
When they reached the Belvedere Hotel, Colbeck went inside with Madeleine and left Victor Leeming outside. The sergeant found a position from which he could watch the front and side exits. He kept his back against a brick wall so that he could not be surprised from behind. The hotel was popular. Cabs arrived at regular intervals to drop off or pick up customers at the main door. Leeming felt certain that Alban Kee had found out something and decided to keep it to himself. Unlike the sergeant, he had no loyalty to Colbeck. Indeed, he would seek any opportunity presented to him to get his own back against a man involved in his dismissal from Scotland Yard. Bringing Kee into the investigation had been a mistake in Leeming’s opinion. Lives were at risk. In a case as dangerous as this one, absolute trust between the detectives was required.
As soon as he revealed his identity, Colbeck gained the manager’s trust. He was told that Whiteside and Cullen had checked into the hotel with their respective wives. The manager also mentioned that someone else had shown great interest in the guests. His description of the man confirmed that it was Alban Kee. After taking note of the relevant room numbers, Colbeck sent Madeleine outside to warn Leeming that their quarry was in the hotel. Colbeck went upstairs. It was a long climb but he ran up the steps as fast as he could, stopping when he reached the top landing so that he could
catch his breath. He then went to the room occupied by Whiteside. There was no need to knock because the door was slightly ajar. Inside the room was evidence of a swift departure with a few items of abandoned clothing and a small, empty valise on the floor. Rushing to the window, he looked out but all he could see was Leeming maintaining his patient vigil with Madeleine at his side.