Authors: Edward Marston
Shannon looked around them. ‘Are we all ready, lads?’
‘Yes,’ they replied in unison.
‘Then let’s kill this fucking railway line once and for all!’
Robert Colbeck had been rescued at the last moment. The information passed on by the French barmaid had persuaded Superintendent Tallis to stay for one more day. He accepted that it might, after all, be possible to catch the men who had caused so much disruption on the railway and, in doing so, discover who their English paymaster was. Along with Thomas Brassey and a group of his most trusted men, Tallis was in hiding not far from the contractor’s office. All but Brassey were armed with cudgels or guns. Nobody expected that the Irishmen would give up without a fight.
Determined to be at the heart of the action, Colbeck had put on an old coat and hat so that he could replace the nightwatchman who normally patrolled the area. He carried a lantern in one hand and a stout wooden club in the other. He followed the identical routine as his predecessor so that
it would look as if the same man were on duty. When the raid came, he knew, it would take place when he was at the farthest point from the designated target. The first hint of trouble came when he heard a horse and cart approaching. At that time of night, all the drivers should have been fast asleep while their horses were resting in their makeshift stables. Pretending to hear nothing, Colbeck turned away from Brassey’s office and began a long, slow, methodical walk to the edge of the camp.
The attack was imminent. He sensed it. As soon as he reached the outer limit of his patrol, therefore, he did not amble back at the same pace. Blowing out his lantern, he ran back towards the office in the dark. Colbeck did not want to miss out on the action.
Everything seemed to have gone to plan. Murphy’s whistle told them that the nightwatchman was some distance away from the office. Dowd’s horse and cart were in position and he had trundled the wheelbarrow up to the others. Shannon gave the signal, smacking Kilfoyle on the back so that the latter went off to stand by Filton’s office, then leading Mulryne and Dowd towards their target. The door of the office had two padlocks on it but Shannon soon disposed of them with his jemmy, levering them off within seconds before prising the door open. Holding a lantern, he went across to the safe. Mulryne followed and Dowd came in with the wheelbarrow.
‘Jesus!’ said Dowd when he saw the size of the safe. ‘I’ll never be able to wheel that bloody thing away.’
‘Leave it to Brendan,’ said Shannon. ‘That’s why he’s here.’
Mulryne bent down and got a firm grip on the safe. When
he felt its weight, he lifted it an inch off the floor before putting it down again. He spat on both hands then rubbed them together.
‘This is not really heavy,’ he boasted. ‘Hold up that lantern, will you, Pierce? I need all the light I can get.’
Shannon responded, lifting the lantern up until his whole face was illumined. Mulryne seized his moment. Pulling back his arm, he threw a fearsome punch that connected with Shannon’s chin and sent him reeling back. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. Coming into the office, Colbeck had to step over the body. It took Dowd only a moment to realise that they had been duped. Escape was essential. Running at Colbeck, he tried to buffet him aside but the detective was ready for him. He dodged the blow and used his club to jab the man in the stomach. As he doubled up, Colbeck hit him in the face and made him stagger backwards into Mulryne’s bear hug.
‘Timothy Dowd,’ said Mulryne, lapsing back into his days as a constable, ‘I’m arresting you on a charge of attempted burglary.’
‘You double-crossing bastard!’ howled Dowd.
But it was the last thing he was able to say because Mulryne tightened his hold and squeezed all the breath out of him. Kilfoyle came running to see what had caused all the commotion. When he burst in, he almost tripped over Shannon’s body.
‘What happened to Pierce?’ he demanded, bending over his friend. ‘Who hit him?’
‘I did,’ replied Mulryne, triumphantly. ‘He’ll be out for ages, Liam. I caught him a beauty.’
Kilfoyle let out a roar of anger and pulled out a knife.
Before he could move towards Mulryne, however, Colbeck stepped out to block his way. Kilfoyle waved his knife threateningly.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘The man who’s here to disarm you,’ said Colbeck, hitting him on the wrist with his club and making him drop his weapon. ‘You must be Liam Kilfoyle.’
‘What of it it?’
‘I’m a friend of Victor Leeming.’
‘That dirty, treacherous, lying cunt!’
‘He asked me to pass on a message,’ said Colbeck, tossing the club aside so that he could use his fists. ‘Attacking people from behind is unfair. This is how you should do it.’
He pummelled away at Kilfoyle face and body, forcing him back by the sheer power of his attack. The Irishman tried to fight back at first but he was soon using both hands to protect himself. When Colbeck caught him on the nose, Kilfoyle stumbled back into the arms of Superintendent Tallis as the latter came into the office.
‘Have we got them all?’ asked Tallis, holding his man tight.
‘Hello there, sir,’ said Mulryne, effusively, as if encountering a favourite long-lost relative. ‘How wonderful it is to see you again, Superintendent, even if it is on foreign soil. Forgive me if I don’t shake hands but Timothy here needs holding.’
‘How many of you were there, Brendan?’ said Colbeck.
‘Five, including me.’
‘We’ve three of them here – that leaves one.’
‘He was caught as well,’ said Tallis. ‘We’ve got the whole gang.’
‘And you saved me the trouble of trying to pick up this
bleeding safe,’ said Mulryne, giving it a kick. ‘It weighs three ton at least.’
‘It shouldn’t.’ Colbeck picked up the fallen lantern and walked across to the safe. He opened the door to show that it was completely empty. ‘Thanks to your warning, Brendan, we took the precaution of removing everything of value out of it.’
The interrogation took place in Thomas Brassey’s office. It was obvious that Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy had no idea who had sponsored their work from England. They were mere underlings who obeyed orders from Pierce Shannon. Accordingly, the three of them were taken away and held in custody. On the following morning, they would be handed over to the French police. Shannon sat in a circle of light provided by a number of oil lamps. Colbeck and Mulryne were present but it was Edward Tallis who insisted on interrogating their prisoner. Hands behind his back, he stood over Shannon.
‘Who paid you?’ he asked.
‘Nobody,’ replied the other, rubbing his aching jaw.
‘Don’t lie to me. Somebody suborned you. Somebody told you to bring this railway to a halt. Who was it?’
‘Nobody.’
‘So you did everything of your own volition, did you?’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘That it was all your own idea, Pierce,’ explained Mulryne.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘So why did you do it?’ said Tallis.
Shannon gave a defiant grin. ‘Fun.’
‘Fun? Is it your notion of fun to cause extensive damage
to the property of the man who is employing you? Is it your notion of fun to put the thousands of men on this site out of work?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s a bleeding liar, sir,’ said Mulryne.
‘Keep out of this,’ ordered Tallis.
‘But I know the truth. Liam told me. That’s Liam Kilfoyle. He’s the scrawny one that fell into your arms like an amorous woman when you came in here. Liam reckons this man met up with Pierce and offered him money to wreck this railway – a lot of money. Enough to let them all retire.’
‘And who was this man?’
‘Liam didn’t know.’ He pointed at Shannon. ‘But he does.’
‘Shut your gob!’ snarled Shannon.
Mulryne laughed. ‘Compliments pass when the quality meet.’
‘If I’d known you were a fucking traitor, I’d have killed you.’
‘You’re in no position to kill anyone,’ Tallis reminded him. ‘Now stop playing games and answer my questions. Who paid you and why did he want this railway to be abandoned? He’s the man who dragged you into all this? Do you want him to get off scot-free?’
‘Yes,’ said Shannon.
‘Who
paid
you, man?’
‘Nobody.’
‘Tell me, damn you!’
‘I just did.’
‘Give me a name.’
‘Pierce Shannon. Would you like another? Queen
Victoria.’
‘I’d like you to tell me the truth.’
‘I have.’
‘Who is behind all this?’
‘Nobody.’
Shannon was beginning to enjoy the situation. Resentful at being caught, and infuriated by Mulryne’s part in his capture, he was at least getting some pleasure out of frustrating Tallis. No matter how hard the superintendent pressed him, he would volunteer nothing that could be remotely helpful. Tallis kept firing questions at him with growing vexation. Eventually, Colbeck stepped in.
‘Perhaps I could take over, sir,’ he suggested.
‘It’s like trying to get blood from a stone,’ said Tallis.
‘Then let me relieve you.’
‘If you wish.’
Tallis withdrew reluctantly to a corner of the room and watched.
Colbeck brought a chair and placed it directly in front of Shannon. He sat down so that he was very close to him.
‘When I first came to France,’ he told Shannon, ‘I brought my assistant with me – Sergeant Victor Leeming.’
‘I knew he was a bleeding copper,’ said the other with derision. ‘I could smell him. I enjoyed beating him up.’
‘I’m glad you mention beating someone up because that’s the subject I was just about to raise with you. Would you describe your friends – Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy – as violent men?’
‘They’re Irish – they like a decent brawl.’
‘The same goes for me,’ said Mulryne, happily.
‘I’m only interested in Mr Shannon’s friends,’ said Colbeck.
‘At least, they’re his friends at the moment. That, of course, may not last.’
Shannon was guarded. ‘What are you on about?’
‘The contents of your pockets.’
‘Eh?’
‘When we searched you earlier, you were carrying a large amount of money. A very large amount, as it happens. Where did it come from, Mr Shannon?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘it’s our business as well. And it’s certainly the business of your three friends. We searched them as well, you see, and they had substantially less money on them. Even allowing for the fact that they had spent some of it on drink, they were clearly paid far less than you for any work that they did.’ He turned to Mulryne. ‘How much were you paid for tipping over those wagons?’
‘A week’s wages,’ replied Mulryne.
‘Mr Shannon had over two years’ wages in his pocket, Brendan. Unless, that is, Mr Brassey has been particularly philanthropic. What this all indicates to me is that one person held on to most of the money he’d been paid while the other three were deprived of their fair share. That’s robbery. What do you think the others would do to Mr Shannon if they knew the truth?’
‘Break every bleeding bone in his body, Inspector.’
‘That’s the least they’d do, I should imagine.’
‘I earned that money,’ insisted Shannon. ‘I had the brains to plan things. The others are all fucking boneheads.’
‘I’ll pass on that charming description of their mental powers when I talk to them,’ said Colbeck, smoothly, ‘and I must thank you for admitting that you were, after all, paid by
someone else.’ He flicked a glance at Tallis. ‘Our first trickle of blood from the stone.’
Shannon sat up. ‘I’m not saying another fucking word.’
‘Then you’re throwing away any hope of defending yourself. When we hand you over to the French police, you’ll be charged under their law and in their language. When you get into court,’ Colbeck went on, ‘you won’t understand a single word of what’s going on so you’ll be unable to offer anything by way of mitigation.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a way of shortening the sentence you’re likely to get. If you claim – as you did earlier – that everything that happened was your idea, then you’ll face several years in prison. If, on the other hand, you were simply obeying someone else’s orders – and if you tell us who that someone is – your sentence might be less severe. In fact, I’d make a point of telling the French police how helpful you’ve been.’
‘And he’d tell them in French,’ said Mulryne, proudly. ‘He speaks the lingo. Doesn’t he, Superintendent?’
‘Yes,’ said Tallis.
‘What about you, sir? Do you speak French?’
‘I’d never let it soil my lips.’
‘To sum up,’ said Colbeck, bestowing a bland smile on Shannon, ‘it’s a pity that you’ve elected to hold your tongue. You might need it to plead for mercy when we lock you up with your friends and tell them about the monetary arrangements you decided upon. When you get to court, however,’ he went on, ‘you can talk all you like to no effect because they won’t bother to hire interpreters for someone who was caught red-handed committing a crime. Expect a long sentence, Mr Shannon – after your friends have finished with you, that is.’
He stood up. ‘Let’s take him over there, Brendan.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Mulryne.
‘Wait!’ cried Shannon, as they each laid a hand on him. ‘There
was
someone who put us up to this.’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ said Colbeck.
‘But I don’t know his name.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that?’
‘It’s true, Inspector – I’d swear on the fucking gospel.’
‘There’s no need for blasphemy!’ shouted Tallis. ‘Keep a civil tongue in your head.’
‘You must have known who this man was,’ said Colbeck. ‘How did he get in touch with you in the first place?’
‘I was in a police cell,’ admitted Shannon. ‘Only for a week or so. There was an affray at a tavern in Limehouse and I got caught up in it by mistake. Anyway, this man read about it in the paper and saw that I was a navvy. He came to see me and asked me if I’d ever worked for Tom Brassey. That’s how it all started.’
‘Go on,’ invited Colbeck.
‘He tested me out then decided I might be his man.’
‘What name did he give?’
‘None at all,’ said Shannon, ‘but I did hear one of the coppers calling him “Luke” – you know, as if they were friends. I called him by that name once and he swore blue murder at me.’