Chapter 4 #2
I could smell dampness in the air as I was led from the barracks by an Auxie—this one different than the sympathetic fellow the day before—back to Lower Castle Yard.
However, rather than veering toward the block holding the intelligence room, he directed me to where a number of the administrative offices were housed.
I attempted to temper my reaction and the relief flooding my veins, loosening the base of my spine until my legs threatened to give way, at least until I knew precisely what was facing me, but my instinct would not be swayed by reason.
So it was with some effort that I climbed the stairs inside, my eyes scanning my surroundings for Sidney or another friendly face, hope rising in my chest.
Only to sink again when the guard opened a door to usher me inside and I found myself standing face to face with O, the viperish director of intelligence within Ireland, and the man who had undoubtedly ordered yesterday’s “interrogation.” Colonel Ormonde de l’épée Winter liked to present himself as dapper and important, but I found him to be unctuous and snide.
He exhibited the pale skin of a man who spent very little time outdoors, with a high forehead, receding hairline, and a sharp nose.
I’d long suspected the monocle he used in one eye was an affectation he’d adopted to attempt to court C’s favor, since C also used a monocle.
Just as he’d begun using the code name “O” to emulate him.
I narrowed my eyes in loathing before smoothing as much emotion as possible from my features.
O studied me in turn, finishing lighting the cigarette clasped between his lips before nodding to the Auxie behind me.
A moment later, I heard the door close. Dressed in dark evening kit with his hair slicked back, it was evident O was bound for some sort of formal event.
“Inspector General Smith is finally retiring,” he explained, though I hadn’t asked.
I supposed he was on his way to a dinner or party to celebrate this.
“It’ll be announced tomorrow.” He tossed the lighter he’d used onto the desk between us.
“He’s even being appointed a KBE.” Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire.
Apparently, he wasn’t worried about me sharing this news prematurely.
I wasn’t certain how I felt about that and what it meant, but I imagined Lieutenant-General Tudor was happy.
Tudor had been appointed police advisor by his friend Churchill, the secretary of state for war, and had effectively taken control of the RIC despite Smith’s lingering presence.
But now that Smith was retiring, the matter would be official, as would O’s position as deputy police advisor as well as head of intelligence.
Tudor and O had once served together in India.
One corner of O’s lips curled derisively when I failed to respond. “I’ll tell him you send your felicitations.”
O could tell him whatever he wished. I was mostly indifferent to the news, though it was true, Smith had proven helpful in impeding O during one of our previous altercations.
Though, I did find it interesting that my silence had already riled him.
It made me determined to goad him further.
Perhaps, in his irritation—or his desire to boast—he would reveal something useful.
O sank down in his chair, leaving me standing, and exhaled smoke through his nose like a brooding dragon.
These exhalations were a disgusting habit that I’d noticed he was prone to.
The office was not his own, for I’d visited it once before and this room was too spartan for O’s taste.
The walls were decorated in generic prints and the furniture utilitarian. Not that I was invited to sit on it.
“I heard about your little game,” he mocked, presumably referring to my refusal to speak in the intelligence room.
“So, I brought you here so that we might have a conversation.” He crossed one leg over the other and gestured about him, as if to suggest these were comfortable accommodations and this was but a friendly chat.
Never mind that there was no chair for me.
I considered ignoring his lack of consideration and sitting on the sofa, but I decided I preferred to stand.
All the better to make an escape should I need to.
He knocked ash into the pewter dish on the desk before taking another drag from his cigarette as he continued to consider me. “What? Not going to beg for your release?”
I wasn’t about to beg him for anything. However, I also recognized that clinging to a single strategy when another could be deployed more successfully was akin to cutting off your nose to spite your face.
“Would it matter if I did demand my release?” I answered calmly, emphasizing the change in verb. “You know you’re holding me here falsely.” I shook my head. “This can’t end well for you. Let’s not add another mistake to this week’s debacles.”
His nostrils flared with anger, furthering his resemblance to a smoldering dragon. “What I know is that you inserted yourself where you don’t belong and have almost certainly committed treason, including that stunt at Mountjoy.”
I struggled to rein in my tongue as my temper spiked. “That stunt, as you call it, saved thousands of lives and Britain’s reputation!”
“From what I understand, you had a hand in those canisters winding up where they did.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I snapped, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“You were seen with the man whom we believe was responsible for the planning and execution of that plot.”
I scowled, trying to follow this line of reasoning and work out who he was speaking of. Could he be referring to Lord Ardmore? Could they actually be wise to his perfidy and in O’s desire to escape blame, he’d decided to throw suspicion on me?
“The same could be said of practically every member of the Castle administration, including you,” I pointed out. “Or didn’t you promote the changes recently made to the RIC’s crowd control tactics?”
He arched his chin, ignoring the last comment. “I have never made Captain Willoughby’s acquaintance.”
“Willoughby?” I repeated in confusion, before realizing who Ardmore had contrived to cast the blame on.
Of course it would be his righthand man.
The one who had directly handled everything while Ardmore remained in the shadows, as always.
I’d even warned Willoughby that one day Ardmore would do exactly this.
“Yes,” he pronounced crisply. “You needn’t play dumb, though you’re quite adept at it. You were seen together. Just as you were seen with known rebels, including former British Intelligence agent, Alexander Xavier.”
I didn’t react to this, though inside my heart was hammering against my ribs.
“What? No response to that?” he sneered.
“A response is unnecessary. You’re not interested in the truth.” I tilted my head. “Not to mention the fact that I’m not certain I’m even authorized to hear this information.”