The Hansa Protocol (29 page)

Kenwright was not a vain man, despite his great stature and his flowing spade beard, but he wished just then that there was a bit of mirror pinned up somewhere in the drill hall. He stretched out his arms in front of him, and looked at the three brand-new stripes sewn on each sleeve. Sergeant! He could hardly believe it! Well, it was time to face whatever ribbing may be coming his way. He stooped down, and walked through the low passage into Inspector Box’s office.

‘Congratulations, Sergeant Kenwright!’

Box waited for Kenwright to salute him, and then he and Knollys rose from the table to shake hands.

‘I can hardly believe it, sir,’ said Kenwright. ‘All I did was sort through a lot of fragments, and arrange them into some kind of decent order—’

‘Your work showed us what the German conspirators were up to, Sergeant. You’ve carved out your own niche here at King James’s Rents. They’re already asking about you over at Whitehall Place. I shouldn’t be surprised if they don’t try a bit of poaching, soon.’

‘I hope not, sir. I wouldn’t fancy working anywhere else. It’s lovely at the Rents.’

Sergeant Knollys had opened a cupboard beside the fireplace, and removed three bottles of India Pale Ale, together with three chipped enamel mugs.

‘Time for a celebration, Sergeant Kenwright,’ said Knollys. ‘Did you know that yours is the only rank in the police to bear military insignia? The three stripes of a sergeant. Clerk Sergeant, in your case. But don’t forget: we’re all civilians! So here’s a health to the Queen, and
confusion
to all her enemies!’

The three men sipped their ale from the chipped mugs. The fire
burned smokily in the old grate. The gas mantle shuddered and
spluttered
in the ceiling. Box remembered the chilling dangers of Caithness, and thought: he’s right. It’s lovely at the Rents.

‘So, sir,’ said Kenwright, setting his mug down on the table, ‘I’ve been rewarded far beyond my dreams. And I believe those high-up gentlemen who worked with us have been given knighthoods. I don’t suppose—’

‘No, Sergeant,’ Box interrupted. ‘No rewards for me. Or Jack, there. Or for poor old Mr Mack. No fear. But in my case, I can truly say, virtue is its own reward.’

‘And modesty likewise,’ Knollys added. ‘Talking of which—’

Knollys stopped abruptly and scrambled to his feet. Superintendent Mackharness was standing half in and half out of the room, holding one of the swing doors open with a large hand. Box attempted to stand at attention. Sergeant Kenwright maintained a frozen salute, as though he was part of a wax tableau. Mackharness treated Box to a brilliant smile.

‘I’ll not trespass too much on your time, Box,’ he said. ‘I just thought I’d look in personally, and say thank you. Well done! Perhaps I don’t commend you as generously as I should, but in this matter, I felt it only right to come down here and thank you in person.’

Strewth! What was the matter with Old Growler? Was he going soft?

‘You’re too kind, sir,’ said Box.

‘Not at all, Box. I got the menthol crystals from Curtis & Company, the chemist’s in Baker Street, and did just what you advised, with the hot water, and the towel, and so on. It worked like a miracle. The whole wretched trouble had dissipated by next morning. So, thank you. I think that’s all. Good day, Sergeant Knollys. At ease, Sergeant Kenwright.’

Superintendent Mackharness began to close the door, but then thought better of it. ‘Incidentally, Box,’ he said, ‘there’s an
extraordinarily
sinister business developing out at Hoxton. Perhaps you’d care to come upstairs, now, so that I can give you the gist of the matter. I shan’t detain you for more than a few minutes.’

This, thought Box, is more like it! Fresh villainy among the teeming millions. It would always be like that. Inspector Box took a hasty leave of his two sergeants, and hurried up the stairs that would take him to the mildewed office of Superintendent Mackharness on the upper floor of 2 King James’s Rents.

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