The attack was sudden and so unexpected neither James nor Denny had time to think. On silent feet three men had sprung as if from nowhere on Chalk Farm Road and had surrounded them. Two grabbed hold of them in vise-like grips.
James struggled hard in an attempt to free himself, shouting to Denny, “Get away. Run. Run.”
But Denny was smaller and weaker than James, and his captor was a heavyset man with strong arms. There was no way he could escape. He was truly trapped, a goner, in his mind. He was afraid. He thought he was about to die.
It was James who finally struggled free, managing to punch the man who had grabbed him on the jaw. He leapt over to the bruiser still clutching Denny and attempted to wrest his friend away, but it was to no avail.
Nonetheless, James didn’t give up, pulling at the man’s shoulders, punching him on the arms, shouting, “Let him go. He’s only a boy. Whatever this is about, take me instead. Stop hurting him. Let him go, for God’s sake!”
James did not see the man with the cricket bat creeping up behind him. But he felt the heavy blow when the bat struck his shoulders. As he went down and hit his face on the ground, James knew he and Denny had not had a chance. That was his last thought before he lost consciousness.
The bruiser still holding Denny shouted, “Bring that there bloody bat over ’ere, let’s do ’im in too. Come on, ’urry up. The coppers on the beat will be ’ere soon.”
Denny was so terrified and also surprised when the heavyset man let go of him that he froze on the spot. Before he could take one single step, he was hit across the back with the cricket bat, went down heavily. Twisting slightly, he hit the back of his head on the road and passed out.
“Let’s scarper,” one of the attackers cried. “That bleeding moon is like a bloody great lamp. We’ll be seen and caught.”
“We won’t! Let’s mek sure. Do the job right. Let’s give ’em a kicking job. Our boots are strong enough to kill a bloody bull.”
The two other men followed instructions, and the gang of three set to work, their hobnail boots hitting James’s ribs, legs, and thighs. Denny’s body got the same brutal treatment. The men only stopped when they felt tired themselves.
The moon was high in the night sky and bright, flooding the road with light. The thugs took off, running down a side street, making their way to Marylebone, where they had started to follow their targets.
Once they were hidden in a dark alley, the man with the cricket bat said, “We can tek it easy. These two buggers are out cold, mebbe even dead.”
“Use yer loaf, Fred. We gorra get away from ’ere. Let’s flit ter the docks. Saturday night the coppers go two at a time on rounds,” the bruiser muttered.
“Yer bloody right! Let’s scarper afore we’re caught.” The three of them began to run, putting distance between themselves and their victims.
* * *
It was well over an hour before James and Denny were discovered. It was Constable Tony Roy and Sergeant Mick Owen who spotted the two bodies on Chalk Farm Road as they did their rounds.
They usually partnered up on Saturday nights in the summer months. There were plenty of drunks around, often intent on disturbing the peace. Violence was common, pickpocketing the norm. There were frequent robberies, and some thieves even targeted shops and houses, breaking in to steal valuables.
“If it hadn’t been for the full moon, we might have easily missed these two,” Constable Roy said. “Chalk Farm Road is usually as safe as houses. During the week I often give it a miss.”
“I know, and it’s a good thing you happened to glance down here tonight,” Sergeant Owen shot back.
Both policemen knelt down and turned over James’s body, and then Denny’s, and Constable Roy said, “Let’s look in their pockets. I hope to God that they have identification on them.”
They didn’t. But both young men had money on them, and each had a key in a trouser pocket.
“Not a robbery gone wrong then,” the sergeant said, frowning. “They’ve been badly beaten. There’s a lot of blood.”
“A helluva lot of it, I’d say.” Constable Roy glanced at his partner. “Malice aforethought? At least that’s my opinion.”
“I agree with you. This was a most purposeful crime. The attack was obviously planned, and cleverly. These two nice-looking lads were targeted and followed from wherever they’d been. But why? What’s this criminal attack all about?”
The constable stood up. “I don’t know, but it was brute force. I’ll go for an ambulance, Owen. You stay with the lads. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Make it fast. The smaller one has a bad head wound; blood’s still oozing.” Sergeant Owen was now standing, and he looked at the constable with keenness and added, “We’ve got to make sure they’re taken care of properly. And we’ve got to catch the bastards that did this. Put them away.”
“We will do exactly that,” Constable Roy answered, and was gone, running down the road.
Miraculously, Constable Roy returned within the hour, riding in the horse-drawn ambulance along with two ambulance men.
When he jumped down from the ambulance and ran over to Sergeant Owen, he noticed at once how white he was, and there was anxiety in his eyes.
“Thank God you’re here,” Owen said. “These boys need help. As soon as possible.”
The two ambulance men who followed Roy carried a litter. They put it down, lifted Denny onto it, and took him into the ambulance. A moment later they returned, and James was laid on the litter and taken away. The two policemen followed behind and rode along with them all in the ambulance.
“Which hospital?” Sergeant Owen asked, once they were settled in the ambulance.
“King’s. It’s the best for head wounds, which they both have.” The constable shook his head and peered at Owen. “As we agreed earlier, this was a deliberate attack. And it was murderous. Whoever did it was out to kill. And I can’t help wondering why. They look like ordinary, everyday young men, nicely dressed. I just can’t figure out a reason for such an attack.”
“Neither can I. But somebody was out to do harm.” Owen rubbed his chin and glanced at his partner. “I don’t recognize either of them, from around here, I mean. Do you?”
“No, I don’t. And of course it was a deliberate beating. I just hope it’s not too late, and that the doctors can save them.”
* * *
Senior Nurse Peg Nolan had worked at King’s Hospital all of her adult life. When she was a young girl, she had been inspired by Florence Nightingale, known as the Lady with the Lamp, who organized a unit of field nurses during the Crimean War. They saved the lives of many British soldiers at Balaklava in 1854, after the doomed charge of the British Light Brigade against heavy Russian fire. Tennyson’s poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade” had always been one of Peg’s favorites.
Peg loved nursing and making people well, and she was beloved by all of the staff at the hospital after her long service there. She was the top night nurse and preferred the late shift because it gave her enough time to enjoy her married life and her daughter. She went off duty at six in the morning, was home in bed by seven, and up and around her house at two o’clock, with the whole afternoon and half the evening ahead of her.
Tonight had been much busier than usual, and it was always hectic at weekends. She was well aware why this was, and told beginners to look out for Saturdays, when people went out on the town, so to speak, and somehow managed to get themselves injured.
Now, at three in the morning, she was taking bandages out of a cupboard when a young nurse came rushing down the corridor. “Nurse Nolan, I need your help!” the girl exclaimed as she came to a standstill, out of breath.
“Aren’t you Nurse Jean Riley?”
The girl nodded.
“You are assigned to Senior Nurse Clapton?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you ought to be asking her for help. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m trespassing on her territory.”
“I know that, Nurse Nolan, but Nurse Clapton is in surgery with Mr. Perdue, who is at this moment extracting a bullet from a man’s head. A self-inflicted wound. She’s not available.”
Peg nodded. “I understand. So how can I be of help?”
Nurse Riley said, “I’m sure you know that two young men were brought in about eleven-thirty last night, very badly beaten and with head wounds—”
“Oh yes, I heard. Is the problem to do with them?” Peg cut in.
“Not a problem, really. One of them has finally awakened, and that’s important for Mr. Perdue to know and also the policemen.”
Peg frowned. “Are they still here? It’s three in the morning.”
“They are. They wouldn’t leave. Nurse Clapton told me that. Mostly because they need to know who those boys are. They didn’t have any identification on them.”
Peg groaned and threw the young nurse a pained look. “Naturally. I will come and speak to him, find out who he is. Where is Mr. Frayne? I believe I would like to have a surgeon with me when I see the young man.”
“I don’t know. But I can go and find him for you, Nurse Nolan.”
“Take me to the young man first, and then scoot around and seek out Mr. Frayne … I really would feel happier with a doctor in the room.”
Nurse Riley led Peg to the other end of the corridor, opened a door, and ushered her into one of the small emergency rooms. Peg thanked her, sent her off to find the surgeon, and then walked over to see the patient.
The young man stretched out on the bed stared at her through the brightest blue eye she had ever seen. The other eye was covered by heavy bandaging which went across part of his forehead and around his entire head. One arm was in a splint, resting on top of the sheet.
He said in a tired voice, “I’m alive then?”
“You certainly are. Thankfully. A junior nurse came to fetch me because the senior nurse who has been attending to you is in the operating room with your surgeon at the moment.”
“I understand. I just woke up. Is my friend all right? He got beaten up with me.”
Peg couldn’t help thinking what a lovely voice the young man had, so cultured, a fine voice indeed. An actor’s voice. She said, “I don’t know about your friend, but I will find out for you shortly.”
“Thank you, Nurse. Could I have a drink, please?”
Peg walked over to the bed, reached out for the glass of water on the nightstand, and suddenly drew back, staring at him intently. She knew him. She simply couldn’t remember his name.
“I’m Nurse Peg Nolan,” she said. “You look familiar to me. What is your name?”
“James Falconer, and I recognize you. Isn’t your aunt Mavis Greenwood?”
A smile spread across her face. She nodded and the smile grew wider. “She is indeed, and she’s known you since you were a little boy. In fact, she lives near your parents in Camden.”
She leaned over him and helped him to take long swallows of the water, and then put the glass back on the nightstand.
“How are you feeling, James?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over him.
“Not great. Sore. All over. A broken arm, as you can see, and there’s something wrong with my left leg. Otherwise I’m fine.” He tried to grin, with no success.
Peg nodded and laughed. “At least you’re not dead.”
“About my friend. Can you find out, please?”
“I will indeed. And I will get a message to Mr. Perdue that you are awake, and I will also tell the two policemen who brought you in. I believe they’ve waited to find out your identity, and what state you’re in.”
“Thank you very much,” James said as she hurried toward the door.
“No problem. I’m just happy you’re alive.”
* * *
The two policemen arrived before the surgeon. Peg showed them into the room and departed, leaving them to do their job.
It was Constable Tony Roy who spoke first, introducing himself and Sergeant Mick Owen. “We were the ones who found you, Mr. Falconer, and got you both here to the hospital as fast as we could.”
“Thank you very much, and I believe you came along just at the right time,” James responded. “How’s my friend Denny doing? The nurse didn’t know anything.”
“He is still in a coma, I’m afraid,” Constable Roy said, “and he has other injuries. He’s been looked after very well.”
“Will he be all right?”
“We think so … we hope so,” the constable answered. “The doctors will give you the best information. What’s his full name, by the way?”
“Dennis Holden. We all call him Denny. His father is Jack Holden, and he has stalls at the Malvern, like my father, Matt Falconer.”
Sergeant Mick Owen said, “Is Philip Falconer a relation of yours, by any chance?”
“He’s my grandfather,” James replied. “I think someone has to be in touch with my parents in Camden, let them know I’m in hospital. They’ll be worried when they discover I didn’t go home last night. And Denny’s father needs to be informed.”
“We’ll deal with it immediately,” the sergeant said, and added, “I know your grandparents, Mr. Falconer.”
“We need to ask you a few questions,” Constable Roy interjected. “Did you know the attackers? Why do you think you were assaulted in this manner? With such violence.”
“I didn’t know them, and neither did Denny, I’m sure of that. I don’t have the slightest idea why we were attacked, all I can add is that from the glimpse I got of them they were rough types, bruisers, my father would call them. English, not foreigners, up from the docks. And they were brutal, as you just said.” James grimaced. “I can’t imagine why they beat us up, because we didn’t have much money on us. And when you check around, you’ll discover Denny and I are law abiding, have never been in trouble.”
“We’ve no doubts about you and your friend. As for robbery, that was certainly not the reason. They didn’t take what bit of money you had between you. No, this was a hit. Very deliberate. And they aimed to do a lot of damage, even kill you.” Constable Roy shook his head. “Why? Do you have any enemies? Is there anyone you’ve quarreled with? Offended?”
“No, none of those things. I’m baffled, and I know Denny will tell you the same thing when he wakes up.”
“Where were you coming from last night?” Sergeant Owen asked. “Had you been out on the town? Drinking? In any bars?”
James said, “Can I begin at the beginning?”
“Please do.”
The sergeant went and brought a small chair from across the room, and then fetched another one. The two police officers sat down, and the sergeant nodded. “Please, tell us everything, Mr. Falconer.”
“In the summer, on Saturday nights, my father likes to have a family supper. That’s when my grandparents can join us because the Honorable Mister and Lady Agatha are in France. My father’s brothers usually come too, and last night I invited Denny.”
James reached for the glass, took several swallows of water, and continued. “After supper was over, at about eight, my grandparents were ready to leave. My uncles also decided it was time to go, and we went along with them. Uncle Harry has a café on Marylebone High Street, and he invited us to join him there for coffee and cakes. We did.”
“What about your grandparents and your other uncle? Did they go with you to the café?” the constable inquired.
“No, they didn’t. My grandparents went home to the Montague house near Regent’s Park, and Uncle George accompanied them. He’s a journalist and works on The Chronicle.”
“What time did you leave your uncle’s café?” Sergeant Owen asked.
“About ten o’clock. Denny and I headed straight for Camden. But we never got there because we were jumped by the three men. You know the rest, sir. It’s a mystery to me.”
“And to us. But we’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t you worry. We’re going to leave you in peace for now. Let you get some rest. And we’ll make sure your parents and Mr. Holden are informed where you and Denny are. And I personally will go and see your grandfather later this morning.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Owen.”