Chapter 11
Eleven
Alex Sinclair arrived promptly the next morning. He had matured since we first met, no doubt in part due to his responsibilities at the Agency, with a neatly trimmed moustache and a few lines about the eyes he had acquired along the way.
Still, that shock of dark hair had a habit of falling across his forehead, as now, when he entered the office and went directly to the side table where he deposited a portfolio of papers on the edge of Brodie’s desk.
“The information is to be kept secure at all times, and no one else is to know. Sir Avery was very specific about that. And I am to make certain that everything is in order when I return with it.”
He smiled, and I was reminded that at one time I had thought he might make a good match for Lily. However, I was reminded then, and now, that she had a mind of her own regarding such things.
Our last conversation in regard— “I have no need for a man. They are overbearing, thick-headed, and refuse to listen to anything I say. I’ve gotten along well enough without and will continue to do so.”
I thought of Brodie with that somewhat accurate description. Yet, there were other things she might eventually appreciate. Though she had assured me there were none.
“I have taken care of meself since I was seven years, and I can take care of meself now.”
That had been when she first arrived in London several years past. Though in the time since, with her education and some refinement, it seemed her opinion had not changed.
Now, as I greeted Alex, I did realize that he might have had his hands full with her, even though he was highly intelligent, very pleasing to look at, brilliant with his inventions, and quite adventuresome considering his work for the Agency.
In particular, the coding machine he had invented and now connected to our electric.
“And I’m to assist in whatever way that I can,” he added. “I’ve been making inquiries regarding the...matter at hand. That is if you are agreeable to sharing information you have learned.”
A suggestion. I suspected it had not been a ‘suggestion’ from Sir Avery, but rather an order.
Brodie nodded. “Start with the chalkboard and the notes ye see there. There is other information as well that we have chosen not to disclose there.”
“Of course,” Alex replied. “I understand after working with you previously.” He then went to the board and read through the notes I’d made.
“And admittedly, the matter is most serious. Still,” he grinned, “I would like very much to see a submarine. Even better, take a voyage in one!”
Over the next two hours, Brodie explained what we had learned, beginning with that note Burke had sent with the urgent request to meet, only to find him mortally wounded when I arrived. And then the bloodied note with Adele DeMille’s name.
Alex nodded. “The man does have quite a following, and now to have disappeared? There are rumors all over London.”
“Had an extensive readership,” Brodie clarified, and then explained Burke’s death that night.
“Oh, I say,” Alex exclaimed, obviously surprised. “Sir Avery said nothing about that.”
“I doubt he knows of it,” Brodie replied. “The body is presently in the morgue at the Yard under another name, along with the body of Jardine.”
“Oh my, Sir Avery will not be pleased to learn that, with the Yard very nearby,” he commented then looked over at me.
“You say that Burke gave you a note that night?”
Brodie showed him that bloodied note.
“St. John’s Wood?” he commented.
I explained what we had found there, followed by our inquiries about that gold button. Our brief meeting with Jardine at Savile Row, his sudden disappearance, and then his body pulled from the river that same night.
“He obviously recognized it,” he frowned. “He then fled and encountered someone who didn’t want you to know what his part in this was, along with those he knew.”
Brodie had opened the safe and retrieved the button with that unique image embossed in the gold. He handed it to Alex.
He frowned. “We’ve seen this before.”
Brodie and I exchanged a look.
“Where?” I asked.
“A good part of my work at the Agency is disseminating information...”
He hesitated, no doubt instructed to reveal as little as possible.
“What sort of information?” Brodie asked, not to be put off over something that could be important.
“Sir Avery insists on ‘need to know.’”
“Two people are dead, the danger is still out there, I would say that is a need to know,” Brodie curtly replied.
“Yes, of course. You are quite right,” Alex admitted, then explained.
“We receive regular dispatches from the Continent from our people in other places, which I’m not at liberty to say. The wolf’s head is a very old symbol, particularly as shown here, quite crude actually...”
“What does it mean?” I demanded.
“In some cultures, it represents strength and power,” he continued. “It has been found on ancient war shields, the hilts of daggers, and that sort of thing. More recently, there have been similar symbols found in communications that were intercepted.”
“Which cultures?” Brodie then asked.
It did seem this was something more Alex was not to divulge. And then decision made.
“There is a particular group that operates in the shadows—underground, if you will. The first indication of their existence was discovered literally by accident in Hamburg. A roadway accident that involved a person one of our people was following over another incident.
“The man in the accident was carrying certain papers, and that image was found on one particular piece that seemed to indicate that ‘things were in place, but far more information was needed.’”
“Did it say wot those things were?” Brodie inquired.
“Only that it would be helpful once all was known, and that there were those who would finally be brought down. That was over a year ago. It was considered important enough that we’ve had our people search for more information. That gold button is the first connection we’ve seen.”
“What about the man in the accident?”
“Unfortunately, he died in hospital, and we were not able to learn anything more.”
“Or perhaps it was made certain that he died,” Brodie suggested.
Alex nodded. “It would seem possible, with what you have discovered.”
Brodie explained that Mr. Conner had then found the coachman who had driven the man we now knew as Steiner from the Old Bell the night Burke was attacked. And that we had made inquiries with Herr Schmidt at the German Gymnasium, who knew the man.
Alex nodded, obviously having recognized that name.
“Steiner is a name we have followed, though we have no idea what he looks like. We had not heard that he was here.”
I explained that Steiner had attacked the man who remembered seeing him the night Burke was killed, a man called Fitch. And that Brodie was injured after he intervened and attempted to stop him.
“Fortunate that it was not worse.”
While there was more to that, there was no point in going into further detail.
I then explained about the laundry ticket that led us to the George Inn, where Adele DeMille had been staying after fleeing from St. John’s Wood.”
Alex stared at me. “A laundry ticket? Who would have thought? And you say that she then came to you? The woman from St. John’s Wood?”
“Burke had given her my name.”
He looked from me to Brodie. “Was she able to tell you anything about what Burke was up to? A story for the newspaper, perhaps, that he was after?”
Brodie and I exchanged a look.
Adele had entrusted us with her life. I was not willing to break that trust.
However, the journal had contained that date of 18 April, that was only three days away, as well as the names of the three men known as Torch, Hammer, and Saber, obviously not their real names, along with that combination of letter and numbers, B-10, that we now knew the meaning of.
The questions now were: who were they, and what had that secret project to do with all of this?
“The work you’ve accomplished is incredible,” Alex told us. “Where is the woman now? Sir Avery will undoubtedly want to speak with her.”
“She is safe,” I replied, but refused to tell him more. Not that I didn’t trust Alex, but neither Brodie nor I fully trusted Sir Avery, whose loyalties lay with the Crown no matter the cost in lives.
“There are three names she was able to give us.” I was willing to give him that, as it was obviously critical to what was to take place 18 April.
“Three men who met at St. John’s Wood over the past year, though there may be others. The names were obviously meant to disguise their identities. She said they called one another Torch, Hammer, and Saber.”
“Torch?” Alex stared at him, obviously stunned. “You’re certain of that?”
Brodie nodded. “Do ye know it?”
Alex nodded. “Twelve days ago, I decoded a cross-channel communication from one of our people in Brussels. We’ve been following communications that surface from time to time, for information that could be in the interests of the Crown.”
“You’re spying,” I commented.
Alex looked at me, somewhat startled from behind his glasses.
“I suppose that is what some might call it. In any event, we exchange information that could be useful to those we trust over there as well.”
“Tell us what you know,” I insisted. “Not Sir Avery’s approved version,” I added. “All of it.”
He squirmed ever so slightly and reminded me of the young man we first met, fresh from university and quite wide-eyed over the prospect of working for the Agency.
“The word ‘torch’ is one we picked up several months ago, but with nothing to go on, no way of knowing that it was in fact the name someone went by until we decoded this recent message, and it specifically referred to the fact that ‘Torch’ would make certain everything was handled.
“There was no mention of Hammer. This is the first I’ve heard of it. But obviously from what you’ve been able to learn, it would seem to have something to do with the one known as Torch.”