Chapter 5 #2
“Captain Bennett and Lieutenant Ames have been less forthcoming of their involvement,” Maxwell continued in obvious disapproval. “Though they couldn’t remain silent for long given the overwhelming evidence implicating them.”
And yet O expected me to debrief them tomorrow. Fat chance of that!
“What precisely is going on and why you were detained and … interrogated?” His jaw ground together, letting me know he understood what really happened in the intelligence room.
“I don’t know. But only my men will be guarding you from here on out.
And that comes from orders above the head of Colonel Winter, or anyone else stationed at Dublin Castle, for that matter. ”
Which meant they must have come from very high up, indeed. Perhaps even the lord lieutenant or the prime minister. I spared a moment to wonder if Lord French might have intervened on my behalf. After all, we had conducted a rather sensitive investigation at his behest some months past.
Regardless, a deep sense of relief washed over me. One that made me cling harder to Captain Maxwell’s arm. He glanced down at me in question.
“Thank you,” I told him, more loudly this time.
He pressed his hand over top of mine. “It’s the least we can do.”
The room he led me to was closer than I’d expected, not requiring us to even leave the Castle block.
Outside it stood two Auxies, one of them the fellow who had escorted me back to the army’s barracks following my “interrogation.” Recognizing him, I offered him an appreciative smile, for he must have reported what he’d seen to his superior.
He flushed and nodded his head once in acknowledgment.
“Here we are,” Maxwell declared as he opened the door. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a sight better than that barracks cell.”
He wasn’t understating the matter. In fact, I’d stayed in hotel rooms with much less amenities.
Rather than a crude pallet bed, there was a plush mattress, and two windows.
Most exciting of all was the adjoining lavatory stocked with soap and other toilette items. It was enough to make the tears that had threatened earlier nearly fall.
But the sight also had the unexpected consequence of making my longing for home swell almost unbearably in my chest.
“The door won’t be locked,” Maxwell was saying as I examined the room. “But I’m afraid you won’t be allowed to wander or go anywhere without escort. Dinner should be brought to you shortly. In the meantime, is there anything we can get you?”
“My husband,” I said softly, almost without thinking.
Maxwell gazed back at me with compassion, the beginnings of auburn stubble sprouting along his jaw. “Sorry, lass. That’s one thing we can’t do,” he said gently. “But it won’t be long now.”
I hoped he was right, but I supposed it depended on how stubborn O was determined to be, and how much he or his cohorts were willing to defy authority.
“If there’s nothing else …”
“What about newspapers?” I interjected before he could go. “Might it be all right to have something to read?”
It was clear he knew I was interested in the papers for more than their use as reading material. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Then he was gone, leaving me to my own company once again. Honestly, I was growing rather sick of it.
Knowing I needed to eat to keep up my strength, and that if I lay down on the soft bed as I wanted to that I would never rouse once dinner was delivered, I wandered over to one of the windows to gaze out at Upper Castle Yard below.
Unlike the continuous bustle of the lower yard, the upper one was nearly deserted.
It was called the “Devil’s Half Acre” by many of the Irish due to the centuries of bloody acts and coercive measures that had been enacted there.
Deeds such as pitchcapping and the torture of Archbishop O’Hurley.
It was a reminder that King and Hardy weren’t the first torturers to work their trade in this castle.
Now, this rectangle, which encompassed much of the original medieval Castle, was comprised of mostly state apartments, administrative offices, and residences for senior civil servants and officials.
The state rooms were occasionally still used for functions and entertainment.
Sidney and I had attended a soiree here less than a month ago.
Otherwise, the yard was more frequently filled with typists and administrators hurrying about their duties from one building to the next.
But not at this hour. Now its rain-dampened cobbles lay undisturbed under a last quarter moon.
I sank down in the chair below the window, resting my head against the windowsill.
More comfortable quarters they might be, but they were still a prison.
Albeit one I could probably escape if necessary.
I noted this immediately, my training so ingrained that on my first glimpse out the window I’d observed the ledges which could provide convenient hand-and footholds and the pipes up which I might shimmy.
Making it to the roof would be no problem, but there I would undoubtedly encounter guards who would shoot first and ask questions later.
They would be the real danger, as well as the machine gun on the Record Tower.
But if I could make it to the outer wall—and I believed I could—the facade on the outside was much the same, with ledges and grips.
I thought of the message Nancy had slipped me from Alec. I hoped he was somehow being kept apprised of my change in accommodation. If so, I trusted he would realize that I no longer needed help in breaking out.
The real question was whether I should. Or would escape only make things worse? After all, I didn’t want the authorities who had been swayed to my side to change their minds and think I had something to hide. Not when Ardmore had already admitted he’d pushed for Sidney’s arrest over mine.
It seemed for the moment that the best course would be to wait and see, no matter my impatience to be freed from these walls and the proximity of men like O, Major King, Captain Hardy, and the reach of Ardmore.
I winced at the twinge in my innards, pressing my hand over them.
Perhaps tomorrow would offer me better guidance on what course of action I should take.
For tonight, I needed to rest. If I did need to attempt an escape, it would require considerable use of my abdominal muscles, and they were not yet ready for the effort.
I already suspected Bennett and Ames were going to try every last bit of tolerance I had left.
In the past three nights, I’d only managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep total, which had frayed my temper to a thin line.
It would be best if I met with them well rested.
Shifting to sit more comfortably in the chair, I felt a sense of calm settle over me that had been decidedly missing in recent days.
Part of it was the knowledge that Captain Maxwell and his men were watching over me.
I needn’t fear who might walk in and what they might do at any moment.
But there was also comfort in recognizing I had options.
That if circumstances changed and my current course become unbearable, I had an alternative choice.
During all the years of my intelligence work, I’d come to acknowledge that having a second option was often a true luxury. I intended to be grateful for this one.