Arthur Middleton was shocked to read in the Telegraph, that Buckingham Palace had announced that the king and queen would be present to mark the tenth anniversary of the opening of Tower Bridge.
It went on, ‘The royal yacht Victoria and Albert, will moor in the Pool of London. The Royal family will host a banquet for selected guests in the evening.’
“Damn,” he exclaimed.
He rushed to the office that Jonas had been given for the duration of the investigation.
“Have you seen this?” He held the paper out.
“Indeed, I have. Why release the news now?”
“Who knows? But this leaves us little time to stop the attack and arrest the culprits.”
Liam and Saul headed to the Covent Garden flat. Brendan and Franz determined to check out the address where Mary-Jane was being held. They arrived at a building near Wapping.
The building was like every other building in the vicinity. It has seen better days. The main entrance was open to anyone. On each floor a half railing allowed light in. The stairs were made of stone. The building had lines of washing hanging from the windows and from the railings. The washing lines were fixed to the building opposite. Everyone in the block used the lines.
An old lady was putting her wet washing through an old mangle. O’Carroll approached her. After a discussion, he returned to Franz.
“She is upstairs, on the fourth floor. Two foreigners are with her.”
“All right, Sergeant Major, we will return tonight and take her.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Arthur Middleton was annoyed that Brendan had been able to disappear so easily. His watchers had lost him after he had been to Franz’s flat.
In response, he and Jonas had flooded the area around the flat with plain-clothed officers.
After two days, they saw Liam and another person enter the flat. Inside, Saul wiped his hands. There still was blood on them. Liam ran into the passage, where the communal toilet was, and threw up.
After many hours, Franz and Brendan arrived back. Arthur and Jonas briefed the officers. They waited until the lights went off in the flat. They delayed their entrance another half an hour. Arthur and Jonas led four armed officers.
They quietly walked up the stairs. Jonas gently pushed the door, it was locked. The biggest officer stepped back and, on Arthur’s mark, barged the door open.
The officers ran in, quickly spreading out. They shouted, “Armed police”. The occupants were taken by surprise. Saul tried to get to his pistol, Jonas fired, and he fell to the ground.
Liam had tried to get out of a window but stopped when he saw the drop. All of them were arrested. Brendan allowed himself to be taken. He said nothing to the officer. He looked at Jonas and then Arthur without acknowledging them.
Franz was composed. He looked at Saul, who was being tended by an officer. He saw the officer nod his head in the negative. Saul was dead. In the police station, Franz, Brendan and Liam, were put in separate cells.
“Who first?” asked Arthur.
“I think we can leave the sergeant major to stew a little. I suggest Liam. He is the weak link, in my opinion.”
“Not Franz?”
“No. He is obviously the leader of this pack of miscreants. No, Liam. He is our man.” Jonas was sure.
Liam sat in his cell, nervously pulling at his fingers. His breathing was fast.
Jonas entered the cell first. “Liam Cartney, or would you prefer Terrence Nightingale?”
“I have no idea who you are talking about. My name is Father Edmund Halleron. I was staying with a friend. I have no idea why I have been arrested.”
“Bravo!” Jonas smiled.
“Really, officer. I am on a sabbatical in London. I have done nothing wrong. You can check with my diocese.”
Jonas opened a file and began to read. “Liam Cartney, thirty-eight years old. Born in Donegal, Ireland. Trained to be a priest at Dublin seminary. Left soon after being ordained. Wanted for gunrunning for the Fenian Brotherhood. Involved in the robbery of arms, in Woolwich. Known anarchist. I could go on, but it is pointless. The photograph may be old but it’s you, no doubt. I have you now and no jiggery-pokery will save you.”
At that moment, Arthur entered the room, in the full uniform of a superintendent.
“Has he confessed yet?”
“No sir, He denies being Liam Cartney.”
“He does, does he? Constable, please leave the room. Inspector, have you told him about the attack?”
“No sir, I thought I would allow you to,” Jonas replied.
“Excellent, you are going to the Tower of London unless you come clean about the proposed attack on His Majesty. You may be able to save yourself.”
“Inspector, what happens to traitors?”
“They are hanged, sir.”
“One last chance, Cartney. Tell me about the attack; when it is happening, and the forces involved?”
“I am not Liam Cartney. My name is…”
“Do not waste my time. Inspector, bring our friend in.”
Jonas left the room and returned with an older gentleman, holding a briefcase. Jonas now took over the interview.
“Professor, please put your equipment on the desk. Have you heard of ‘fingerprinting’, Cartney? It has revolutionised detecting crime. The professor is an expert. He was one of the first men to perfect it.”
“I want a solicitor,” Cartney demanded.
“Sorry, you are out of luck. You are a threat to national security. No one knows you are here, and no one will know until after you are tried and hanged,” Arthur replied.
“Give me your right hand,” Jonas said.
“No. I will not submit to this procedure.”
“It is painless. It only takes a second. I will make you if you do not comply,” Jonas replied.
Jonas grabbed Liam by the arm, who tried to stand up. Arthur grabbed him and pushed him back into the chair.
Jonas splayed Liam’s palm on the desk. He pushed down hard.
“Professor, please take the prints.”
The professor was obviously used to criminals trying to avoid this new procedure. He was not worried by their protests.
The right hand was done quickly. The left hand was done easily. Liam had stopped wriggling.
“What use are they?” Liam asked. “They prove nothing.” He seemed pleased with himself.
Arthur released Liam and said, “By themselves, the prints are irrelevant. However, when we compare them to prints on something you have touched. They become gold dust. We have three pistols from the flat where you were taken. The numbers identified them from the Woolwich raid. Your prints will match those on the guns, and they will hang you. The professor assures me that no one has the same prints. Not even those we are related to. So, you see, it really is a waste of time denying the truth. The prints will convict you. We also know that you rented the flat in Covent Garden. We have witnesses. You cannot get away from the mounting evidence.”
Liam said nothing as the professor and the two detectives left the cell. The professor went to the police laboratory in the basement and began to dust the weapons for prints.
Franz sat upright in the chair. He was not worried by the police. He had been questioned before, many times.
Jonas walked in first. “What is your name?”
Franz smiled. “I think you already know that.”
“Yes, I know. But I would like you to confirm it.”
“Detective?” Franz ventured.
“Detective Inspector Smethwick, of the City of London Police.”
“Thank you, Inspector. I will not be answering any of your questions. You cannot make me.”
“Believe me, Mr Mizel, I can, and I will.”
“Inspector, I have been interrogated by some of the most obnoxious policemen in the world. I have been tortured by professionals. I did not break then and I will not now.”
“We do not torture prisoners in England. But that does not mean I will not use other methods.”
“Please look at my fingernails. There are none. They were pulled out by a German intelligence officer.” He held his hands out for Jonas to see.
“My toenails are similarly gone. I have been burnt, punched, near drowned and watched as my wife and child were killed in front of me. To my great shame, I did not break as they were murdered. What possible threat could you use against me?”
They sat opposite each other, eyes locked, staring. Each one unwilling to look away. The door opened and both men looked as a uniformed officer entered the room.
Arthur was ready to go through the same procedure as before. Jonas stood up and ushered him out of the cell.
“It is no good. He will not talk under any circumstances. Threats will not work. We need to come up with something he cares for.”
“Family?” Arthur suggested.
“Murdered in front of him.”
“All right, leave him to stew a little longer. Perhaps we will think of something. Time to see the sergeant major.”
Brendan O’Carroll waited for someone to come in. Only one thing was on his mind: Mary-Jane. The door opened, both men entered. Brendan stood to attention.
“Sit down, Sergeant Major,” Arthur said.
“Sir, you have to let me go. I know where Mary-Jane is. She is in danger. I beg you. I promise to return to custody after I have put her in a safe place.”
“You are not going anywhere, O’Carroll. Except to a cell in the Tower, to await execution,” Jonas said.
“Perhaps the sergeant major can help us a little more. No need to threaten.”
“He cannot be trusted. Where has he been for the last three days? Hiding, that is where. No. Best let the gallows deal with him.”
“Sergeant Major, are you willing to help us again?”
“Yes, But on one condition.”
“You do not give us conditions. Constable, make arrangement for the prisoner to be taken to the Tower.”
“At once, sir,” the constable said, and went to leave the cell.
“Constable remain outside. Inspector remember your place. I am in charge of this prisoner.”
“Sir, this prisoner has been arrested by me, for crimes committed under the jurisdiction of the City of London Police. I protest your interference.”
“Outside, Inspector,” Arthur said.
The constable re-entered the cell. “Well, what do you think?” Arthur asked.
“I think that O’Carroll will believe you are his friend. The question is, how do we exploit him?” Jonas said.
“I will go back. I will say that I have dismissed you. Then I can get any new information he has. We will take it from there. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Jonas.
Arthur made a show of being annoyed as he entered the cell. “I am sorry about that. You did not have to see that. The inspector, wants your head.”
“That’s all right, sir, I understand.”
“Sergeant Major, I believe we can help each other. You want your wife back and I want to stop an attack against England. Will you help me?”
“Of course, sir. Save my Mary-Jane and I’ll do anything you want.”
“Good, good. Where is Mary-Jane being held? Tell me everything, the number of men, arms. Whatever you know.”
Brendan told him the address, description of the building and what the old lady had said.
“Thank you, Sergeant Major, I will have Mary-Jane back by tomorrow. I promise. Now, tell me all that has happened since you went missing three days since.”
Jonas and Arthur met in his room. “Did he go for it?”
“Yes. It seems that Mizel, murdered one of his comrades for working for the Germans. I think we can use that as a lever.”
“I cannot see him breaking, over a murder allegation,” Jonas replied.
“I was thinking that we could drive a wedge between the anarchist and Germans. It is obvious that Mizel does not like the Germans. The sergeant major said that the Germans had secretly financed the attack, but Mizel thought the money was coming from comrades in Europe.”
“I see. So instead of a revolution, which would free the anarchists from oppression, they get a German takeover and end up imprisoned or shot. Both outcomes are chancy.”
“Based on my knowledge of European anarchism, they hate the German state more than they hate capitalism.”
“Maybe we can use that approach?”