Chapter 19
‘For pity’s sake go and see if that’s Jackson out there,’ Jacob snapped. Ben felt a surge of triumph. It was the first time the man had shown any emotion.
John Thorpe favoured his superior with a glacial stare, evidently unaccustomed to being used as an errand boy. ‘What about him?’ He nodded towards Ben.
‘I think Drayton and I can handle one man with two guns between us,’ was the sardonic reply. His tone was light, but underneath the sarcasm there was a warning note to the words, and after a few seconds, Thorpe lowered his gun and moved towards the door.
Ben watched him shoulder open the door with mounting dread.
In retrospect, the decision to rule out the use of firearms seemed ridiculously na?ve – but then, it was only supposed to be a deuced reconnaissance operation.
He looked over at Drayton. The flickering lamplight clearly revealed that the Chief Commissioner was sweating.
Being caught out by one of his own officers had obviously not been part of the plan.
And now, having to shut his Chief Inspector up permanently was going to provide Drayton with a headache of monumental proportions.
Thorpe finally got the door open and disappeared into the darkness. Ben held his breath, fingers curled up into fists, waiting for the shout that would indicate the others had been rumbled, but a couple of minutes later, Thorpe reappeared. Alone.
‘There’s no sign of the addle-pate,’ he ground out. ‘Either he’s brained himself somewhere in the dark, or he’s gone.’
‘You really think those are the only options?’ Charles Drayton’s voice was contemptuous. ‘Are you truly so bloody stupid?’ Ignoring Thorpe’s furious intake of breath, he turned back, pointing his pistol straight at Ben’s head. ‘Who’s out there?’ he demanded through gritted teeth.
Ignoring the roiling of his stomach, Ben looked back steadily.
He had no doubt Drayton intended to kill him, but doing so now might have unexpected repercussions.
Especially as it had become evident there was dissension in the ranks.
Perhaps now was the time to stoke it a little.
He opened his mouth to answer, but Thorpe got there first.
‘Why don’t you get off your privileged arse and go and look for yourself?’ Thorpe’s voice was filled with repressed fury, suggesting there might well be bad blood between the two men of long standing.
‘Having a little trouble with your foot soldiers, Jacob?’ Benedict interjected lightly.
For the first time, the man named Jacob turned and looked him full in the face – the clearest indication yet that he had no intention of allowing Ben to walk out alive.
A man of perhaps fifty, with hair that had once been black but was now littered with grey, though styled in a manner that emphasised good breeding.
Whoever Jacob was, he hadn’t grown up in the workhouse.
His face was lean but unremarkable – the kind of face that would be forgotten within five minutes of seeing it.
‘Do you think to goad me into doing something rash, Chief Inspector Hartley?’ he questioned mildly.
‘If that is your game, rest assured that my two associates here are entirely cognisant of which side their bread is buttered. They will not hesitate to shoot you the moment I tell them to.’ He cocked his head to one side.
‘Perhaps you would do well to answer Sir Drayton’s question. ’
‘There is no one here but me,’ Benedict answered tightly.
‘And how did you learn of this meeting?’
Ben fought to keep his expression neutral. He needed to keep Jacob talking to give the others enough time to get the children away without implicating anyone other than himself. Now everything had gone to hell in a deuced handcart, it was the best he could hope for.
‘I was interviewing Mary Blackthorne and overheard your lackey here speaking with a thoroughly unpleasant individual I assume must be Jackson.’
John Thorpe stepped forward, his face twisted with a rage he could no longer keep hidden. ‘There was no possibility you could have overheard our conversation,’ he bit out.
Ben swallowed. It was time to gamble. ‘I believe you mentioned that it would perhaps have been better had Muriel Pemberton been sent to her reward before she’d been given the opportunity to leave a trail of breadcrumbs any but the simplest idiot could follow… Foolish, I think you called it.’
He had the satisfaction of seeing Jacob’s eyes narrow before his attention was entirely on John Thorpe, striding forward to backhand him across the face, snarling, ‘Liar.’ Ben’s head snapped to the side, his lip splitting.
Swallowing blood, he automatically leaned back as Thorpe thrust his face forward until he was mere inches away.
‘Speak the truth or I’ll stick this gun down your lying throat. ’
‘Step away, Thorpe.’ Was it Ben’s imagination, or did Jacob sound a little… concerned?
John Thorpe didn’t move, and seconds later, Drayton added a little more fuel to the flame. ‘Are you deaf, Thorpe?’ he barked. ‘Stand back.’
Slowly John Thorpe straightened. What Ben saw in the man’s face was truly terrifying.
It was as though he’d lost what little semblance of humanity he’d possessed.
Slowly his lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl, finally resembling the corpse of Billy’s description.
Instinctively, Benedict eased himself backwards, sensing that whatever demons John Thorpe hid deep down inside, they’d now been let loose to come out and play.
Thorpe turned around to face Charles Drayton, whose face quickly changed from belligerence to alarm.
‘What do you th…’ he began, only to stop as a loud crack echoed around the kitchen.
With a puzzled frown, he looked down at the blossoming tide of red on the front of his shirt and abruptly fell to his knees.
‘Have you gone insane?’ Jacob hissed, jumping to his feet, all composure finally deserting him.
‘Don’t worry, my lord,’ Thorpe murmured with a rictus grin. ‘No one will ever find these bodies.’ He turned back to Benedict and raised his gun hand for the second time.
Reading his death in the crazed man’s eyes and feeling an overwhelming surge of regret for things that might have been, Ben shut his eyes, just as a second crack ricocheted around the room.
He waited for the inevitable pain, but when it didn’t come, he opened them again.
Only to see John Thorpe collapse over the top of Charles Drayton’s motionless body.
Jacob reacted first, and surging to his feet, he crashed through the partially open door and was quickly swallowed by the night.
Still reeling from the blow to his face, Benedict was considerably slower to his feet, just as Henry and Rhys materialised from the shadows of the hall where they’d clearly been hiding.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ he asked between gritted teeth. Absurdly, he felt almost cheated that they’d not left him to his martyrdom.
Ignoring their less than grateful companion, Henry stepped towards the door, while Rhys checked the two bodies. ‘Dead,’ he confirmed.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ Ben questioned as Rhys helped him to his feet.
‘Too long,’ was the short reply. ‘If we’d acted sooner, we might have been able to stop Jacob from running.’ The Baron shook his head.
‘Is it worth pursuing the bastard?’ Henry asked, peering out into the night.
Benedict shook his head wearily. ‘He’ll be long gone. Did you get the children out?’
His companions nodded, smiling finally. ‘We have lots to tell you, Chief Inspector Hartley,’ Rhys added, ‘but rest assured all eight are currently on their way to Cliff House with Charlotte.’
‘And the others?’
‘Safe.’
Ben nodded slowly, an expression of relief finally settling on his face.
‘What do we do with the bodies?’ Henry asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room.
‘We concoct a complete Canterbury tale about how Sir Charles Drayton saved the day, only to suffer a fatal injury after a confrontation with Margaret Finch’s murderer.’
‘Our version will connect her murder to the jewellery thefts with the inference that she and John Thorpe were working together before obviously having a falling out.’
‘What about Jacob White?’ Henry queried. ‘Where does he fit into this Banbury story of derring-do?’
‘White?’ Ben quizzed.
‘Muriel Pemberton inadvertently told Alex and Bella his name,’ Rhys responded, holding up his hand before Ben had time to ask. ‘There is also another slight problem in this admittedly entertaining story. There is another body. In the cellar.’
Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘Jackson, I presume?
Rhys gave a shrug. ‘He was dead before we could ask.’
Ben frowned, resisting the urge to demand they tell him everything. The time for that would be later. He thought for a second, then asked, ‘How did he die?’
‘Accidentally fell into the hole leading to the cellar.’
Benedict quirked a mocking brow. ‘Accidentally?’
‘Inadvertently,’ Henry agreed.
‘Carelessly,’ Rhys added.
The three men grinned at each other in total accord.
Ben winced at the action, his jaw entirely too painful for amusement. He nodded towards the weapon still in Rhys hand. ‘I assume he also accidentally dropped his gun.’
‘Very careless,’ Rhys agreed.
‘May I suggest we continue this conversation in more salubrious surroundings,’ Henry said, interrupted. ‘It’s entirely possible that Alex and Bella will drag Billy and Aggie into yet another scrape if we don’t rescue boy and dog.’
‘These fellows aren’t going anywhere,’ Rhys continued drily, repeating Benedict’s earlier comment in the Pembroke Agency. ‘And will surely wait until tomorrow.’
‘A good cock and bull story takes time to concoct,’ Henry added, picking up the lantern. ‘And will be all the better with the help of a brandy or two.’
Ben lost his mulish expression and chuckled, favouring one side of his mouth. ‘Lead on, gentlemen,’ he sighed, ‘You’ve convinced me, and besides, I will quite possibly keel over if I stand here much longer.’