Chapter 26 #2
Anderson accurately read my disbelieving expression, interjecting, “I think it’s understandable that the Kents do not fully trust us just yet. Perhaps in time, we might redeem ourselves.”
This was nothing but a smooth line of diplomatic speak, but I appreciated his putting a damper on O’s unjustified disgruntlement.
“Are charges forthcoming?” I asked, eager for any information since we’d yet to hear from C ourselves.
He nodded at O with a frown. “Colonel Winter was ordered to bring him in for questioning, but it appears Lord Ardmore was warned, for he’s gone into hiding.”
I looked at Sidney in alarm.
“His solicitors claim they don’t know where he is, but that he’s been in communication with them, and he intends to refute any evidence laid against him as a smear tactic.”
“If he’s innocent, why doesn’t he come in and answer your questions,” Sidney refuted, his voice dipping sarcastically as he continued. “As a nobleman, I’m sure he realizes he can expect only the best of treatment from you and your fellows.”
“What’s being done to find him?” I demanded of Anderson, ignoring Sidney and O’s dagger glares at one another.
“Winter and his men are doing their best to locate him.”
Sidney scoffed.
Anderson cast a disapproving glance at him. “But as I’m sure you can appreciate, their resources are currently stretched thin.”
“Which means, nothing,” my husband declared angrily. “It was probably Winter who tipped him off in the first place.”
O’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful what you’re suggesting, Mr. Kent.”
“I know exactly what I’m suggesting. But it doesn’t matter.
” He smacked his hands against his lap, preparing to rise.
“Because this is your problem now. We found you the proof you needed. It’s not our fault you let”—he arched his eyebrows accusingly—“the man slip through your fingers. Come on, Ver.”
“Sit down, Mr. Kent. Please,” Anderson stated firmly.
“Yes, Mr. Kent. Don’t make us use force,” O drawled, earning himself a glower from Anderson. I was surprised a forked tongue didn’t emerge from the little white snake’s mouth.
“You have no justification to detain me,” Sidney retorted, his hands balling into fists at his side.
“Maybe not.” Anderson’s gaze shifted to me. “But your wife, on the other hand, agreed to certain stipulations upon her release.”
“You cannot be serious?” I gasped incredulously, my own fury mounting.
“I hand the SIS proof of the treacherous activities of one of their noblemen, including multiple murders, and a plot to trick British soldiers into releasing poisonous gas on their own citizens.” I was tired of the government classifying the Irish as something other.
At the moment, they were still part of Britain, and as such, British citizens.
“I do all this after being wrongfully detained, interrogated, and tortured. And you still want more from me?”
“I can appreciate your point of view, Mrs. Kent,” Anderson cajoled, his tone of voice setting my teeth on edge. “But we are fighting a war—”
“Oh, it’s a war now?” Sidney sneered, sinking back down beside me.
“And we must make use of every asset we have available.” He darted a look of veiled reproach at O.
“Winter’s men proved not to be up to the challenge.
Do you deny it?” he challenged O, who was scowling at him.
“They were charged with a single task—apprehending Collins and dismantling his network—and they failed. Fifteen of them paid for that failure with their lives, and I don’t wish to see any other agents end up in a coffin draped in the Union Jack. ”
“Have you forgotten I was targeted, too?” I demanded. Collins had gifted me this reprieve and I wasn’t above lying through my teeth to use it.
“Yes, but you’re still in contact with Captain Xavier, aren’t you?” O countered, removing his monocle to clean the glass with his handkerchief. “If he’s on our side, as you claim, surely he’ll share what he knows with you.”
I gritted my teeth, rage and frustration seething inside me.
“What about this peace initiative we’ve heard about? Not the one by the Labour Party,” Sidney clarified, in case there was any confusion. “The one Archbishop Clune is acting as emissary for.”
Anderson and O both scrutinized him.
“You’re well-informed, Mr. Kent,” Anderson finally replied.
“That is the reason you’re keeping us trapped here,” Sidney fired back. “Our ability to discover things.”
Anderson clearly didn’t appreciate his use of the verb “trapped,” but he conceded his point.
“The archbishop is, indeed, here, at the prime minister’s request. He’s meeting with Mr. Griffith today in Mountjoy Prison.
Whether this will lead to anything meaningful, I cannot say.
But we must proceed as if it will ultimately fail, as have all the other peace balloons thus far. ”
I hoped he was wrong. For all our sakes.
“And that means catching … or killing Collins,” O added, as if we’d failed to understand.
They didn’t care about Ardmore, then. Not truly.
Not when Collins had waved a red flag in front of their faces with these assassinations.
Ardmore was only of secondary concern, no matter the treason he’d committed during the previous war as well as this one.
No matter that he was still plotting to create mayhem and was still free to do so.
I considered sharing the proof we’d gathered that Ardmore himself had murdered Lieutenant Harlow, but I held back.
Not only would my telling them not alter their priorities, it also might endanger the shopkeeper and Mrs. Harlow, our witnesses.
Sidney had spoken with the shopkeeper the afternoon before, confirming the account Wick was told by his colleague and finding him credible.
Which meant he was undeniably at risk if Ardmore learned of his existence, and I didn’t trust O not to muck it up and show our hand.
“Give us Collins, Mrs. Kent,” O said, spelling it out plainly. “Give us Collins, and you’ll be able to leave.”
“Allowing you to take the credit, of course,” I replied acerbically. Just as he would have taken credit for the Ardmore documents if I’d brought them to him first. I understood his game.
Sidney guided me from the office before I slapped the smug smile off O’s face that he took no pains to hide.
I felt physically ill at the notion of handing over any man—even one who had arranged the assassinations of fifteen British intelligence and army officers and countless policemen and officials—into the custody of the intelligence men at the Castle, knowing what would be in store for him.
Ardmore was too powerful for them to mistreat, but anyone below the rank of nobleman was at grave risk. Especially Collins.
I thought of the Loughnane brothers. They had been arrested in late November in County Galway, and the Auxiliaries in whose custody they were placed had claimed they’d escaped the following night.
However, nine days later, their bodies were found battered, charred, and mutilated.
The photographs published of their bodies were horrific, a counterpoint to the portraits of the British officers killed on Bloody Sunday that were printed in The Illustrated London News.
As badly as I wanted to leave Ireland, I would sooner be incarcerated again or assassinated in truth than betray someone—from either side—if I knew they were going to be tortured or outright murdered.
Had I been able to believe they would be treated justly and fairly, that would have been one thing.
But I knew too little about the IRA and too much about the British to trust either camp.
There was also the problem of Ardmore—the perpetual thorn in our side!
If he was on the run, then he knew what had happened, and he knew who to blame.
As such, no one connected to me was safe.
Not Max, not George, not my family, and certainly not Sidney.
We never would be until Ardmore was prosecuted.
Even then, there was no guarantee. And given the clear indication of the Castle’s priorities, the only way Ardmore was going to be apprehended was if we caught him ourselves.
One look at Sidney’s irate but resigned face told me he’d already realized this, and he was perhaps even less pleased than I was about it.
I tugged on his arm where it was looped with mine, urging him to follow my lead as we passed through the Palace Street gate.
We’d left the Pierce-Arrow at home, not wishing to draw undue attention to our visit this time.
So we struck out on foot, veering left on Dame Street instead of right.
The midmorning sun cast long shadows over the pavement ahead of us, allowing me to see when two figures detached themselves from the perimeter of the Castle to follow us.