Pooley’s eyes were shining with triumph. ‘Looks as if our hunch was right, sir. There was a “Stewart” and a “Stuart” booked in Rutland for disturbing the peace during Lord Poulteney’s Hunt and looks as though the “Stuart” is our man. He’s young, dark, and the best of it is he was also booked for possession of an offensive weapon, i.e., a Stanley knife, which, as you’ll remember, was given by the lab as the most likely kind of knife to have done the damage.’
‘So why in hell didn’t they follow that up after they heard about the saddle?’
‘They did, but he denied everything and produced a girlfriend in London who said they had been together all night in her camper van.’
Milton thought for a moment. ‘Bring the girl in.’
‘What about him?’
‘Get him when you’ve already got her.’
Pooley nodded obediently and turned towards the door.
‘One more thing, Ellis.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘It was your hunch, not ours. Well done.’
***
‘One of the aspects of my job I most dislike is bullying the inadequate,’ said Milton, as he and Pooley sat in Amiss’ living room late, two evenings after the murders. ‘But it worked. The girlfriend was a pathetic washed-out creature who seems to have joined the sabs for a social life, the way girls in the Home Counties join the Young Conservatives. She got so upset when I told her that her pal Stuart had been having it off in the tack room, that he had tried to murder someone, and that she would be charged with being an accessory after the fact if she didn’t cough up the truth smartly that she burst into tears and blubbed everything out immediately. It was made easier by the fact that he isn’t really her boyfriend. He just deigns to screw her occasionally when it’s convenient.’
‘And Stuart himself?’
‘In an effort to keep both ladies out of it, I told him that if he confessed immediately to causing criminal damage I would drop the charge of attempted murder. He wanted to know what we’d got on him and I simply said, “Enough,” and that if he didn’t accept my offer now it would be withdrawn. He shrugged and agreed.’
‘But can you be sure you didn’t frighten an innocent man into admitting something he didn’t do?’
‘Give me credit for not being an idiot, Robert. He described the tack room in some detail.’
‘Why didn’t he split on Vanessa?’
‘Who knows? Perhaps he’s hoping she might be in the market for a bit of rough trade on a regular basis. Anyway, that’s it. She’s out of it. So, by the way, is he, since he has a solid alibi for the evening of the murders. So I’m back to the conclusion that it’s not credible that anyone would indulge in such an elaborate massacre as a cover for killing one person.’
‘But you’re not ruling it out,’ said Pooley.
‘No, no. Don’t fret, Ellis. You know nothing is being ruled out. But the fact is that if you want to knock off your granny, you can find a hitman for a couple of thousand quid, so it’s hard to see why you would decide to mount an operation of such complexity—not to speak of such wickedness.’
‘What a nice old-fashioned word, Jim.’ Amiss handed him a tumbler of whisky and a jug of water. ‘Only the cops, the religious, and the very old use it these days.’
‘Evil would be better in this case.’
‘So how was it done?’
‘The assassin was almost certainly located behind the false ceiling of the chamber.’
‘What?’
‘Yes. False ceiling. There’s lots of room up there, and there was recent disturbance to the dust.’
‘Any useful clues?’
Milton shook his head. ‘A pro, it would seem. Plastic bags on his feet, protective clothing, all that kind of thing.’
Pooley shook his head sadly. ‘Even Freeman Wills Croft wouldn’t have had any joy with what he left.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh Jim, you really should read some old detective stories. You can’t imagine what you’ve missed out on. He had this sleuth, Inspector French, who was always discovering the identity of the murderer by extrapolating from minute clues, like a thread from a sports jacket or the fact that the 5.03 was seventeen minutes late on the evening in question.’
‘Thanks, Ellis. I can’t wait.’ He turned back to Amiss. ‘But though he did a pretty thorough job on scattering the dust in the areas he walked on, our lads are pretty convinced from a couple of the better prints, that he’s of average height and weight.’
‘Oh, that’s fine then,’ said Amiss. ‘They’ll have him in no time. How did he do it?’
‘By use of what the boffins call a “microwave-directed energy weapon”.’
Amiss looked blank.
‘A kind of souped-up stun-gun.’
‘Must be pretty damn souped-up to kill at that range. What are we talking about? A hundred feet from behind the ceiling to the poor old buggers beneath?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And it just simply jammed the pacemakers.’
‘More than that. Most of them could have lasted for hours or days before their hearts gave out. But this weapon induced enough resonance in the pacemakers to give a fatal kick to the heart before complete electrical failure.’
‘Where did the power come from?’
‘Electrical energy stored in a bank of capacitors. If you really want the technical details, I’ll dig them out of my briefcase.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Amiss hastily. ‘I can’t even understand how electricity works. Just tell me about size and availability.’
‘It probably needed about three feet of capacitors and the same length of tube. As for availability…These things can be got easily in America and anything you can get there you can get here for a price.’
‘So could he have taken out more than he did? I can’t believe the only pacemakers in the House of Lords were on the Tory benches.’
‘No, there were about four on the cross benches and about a dozen on the other side.’
‘So he was positioned deliberately to get the Tories?’
‘Presumably. It was an impressive operation all round. I can’t think he’d have slipped up on where to direct his death ray.’
‘Yes,’ said Pooley. ‘Although he could hardly have been certain he would definitely get whoever he wanted to get. So presumably he was relaxed about that.’
‘Any clues about the motivation?’
Milton took a piece of paper out of his inside pocket and passed it to Amiss. ‘The Avengers sent this to the Press Association this evening’:
We issued a warning that anyone who tortured or defended the torture of animals should expect punishment. We have therefore made an example of Lord Poulteney along with some of his companions in evil.
In order to bring home to other criminals what will be the consequences of continuing along this path, we had to secure maximum publicity. It was for that reason that the execution of Poulteney was carried out in the manner in which it was. We regret that some innocent people died, but in war, innocent people always die. If more deaths are to be prevented, then all those opposing the bill must drop their opposition and agree to have it go through committee unamended. The wages of their sin will be death. The Avengers will show no more mercy than do the hunters.
‘Well, you certainly can’t accuse them of ambiguity.’ Amiss passed the paper back. ‘Although it would be helpful to know on what scale they are proposing to operate.’
Milton shrugged. ‘Bombs? Running amok with Kalashnikovs? Nerve gas? Who knows. All we can do is step up security massively, which we’ve done. But you can imagine what it’s like trying to make the Lords secure. For all we know, it’s crammed full of murder weapons already.’
‘Haven’t you searched it?’
‘Oh, we’ve searched it, but it’s a bit like sending an army of ants into the QE2. It would take us months of lifting every floorboard and every panel to declare that building safe—and even then we couldn’t be sure.’
‘Christ.’ Amiss ran his fingers through his hair. ‘As the Yanks would say, I really can’t get my head around this one. There’s too much frantic behaviour by too many people on too many fronts.’
‘Well, I’m just a simple policeman. Unlike you intellectuals, all I can do is go down the obvious paths along with the rest of my colleagues.’
‘And what are they?’
‘Our hypothesis is that they really are Avengers and that they mean what they say. These seem to be big-time boys.’
‘What do you know about them?’
‘Nothing. But we’re looking. Our antiterrorist people—supplemented by resources from the Murder Squad and local police forces—are dredging up all the information they have on animal activists and interviewing those thought to be most dangerous. So we should have a clearer idea of who’s who in a day or so. But we are, of course, keeping an open mind and interviewing the family and friends of all the deceased just in case there turns out to be an exceptionally strong motive for murder.’
‘I know I have a vested interest here, but what are you doing on the preventative front?’
‘Special Branch have been drafted in to guard those seen to be most at risk. But there are an awful lot of them and not enough chaps to guard them. I put you high on the list, but I’m afraid you were turned down as insufficiently important. But we’ve got around-the-clock guard on Jack Troutbeck and her pals.’
‘I see. You have to be titled to be worth protecting these days.’
‘It’s more that our people think you have to have a title to be worth murdering. Sorry about that.’
‘I fervently hope they’re right. On some issues, I have no objection to being discriminated against on grounds of class. Another drink?’
‘Please. Now what have you been up to?’
‘Helping Jack and company regroup their forces. This has so far involved our lunching with Beesley at the Cavalry Club, dining with Stormerod at the Carlton, and tomorrow we’re lunching with Deptford at the Lords, assuming it’s been given security clearance by then. I’m certainly being fed and watered well and regularly on this job.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘Basically, to conduct what these days is called a charm offensive, but Jack calls it a publicity blitz. Her thesis is that since the media are going to be alive with this story for some time to come, we should capitalize by trying to force people to think rationally about fox-hunting and interfering with the rights of others.’
‘Seems sensible if you can find good spokesmen. What else?’
‘Hold the group together. Do a good job in committee. Stop any tendency to cave in. We’re going to have a meeting to stiffen resolve and cry, “No surrender!”’
‘Mind you,’ said Pooley, ‘I bet there’ll be a considerable falling-off in your numbers. I don’t want to disabuse your romantic notions, but in my experience not all the aristocracy are heroes. Don’t be surprised if there’s a lot of backsliding.’
‘It’s a pretty perilous business backsliding when Jack Troutbeck doesn’t want you to. It might require even more heroism than standing firm.’
‘Just be careful,’ said Milton. ‘I had a routine interview with your friend Jack yesterday and I took to her. But while it’s one thing for her to risk her own life, I’m not so happy at the cavalier way she’s risking yours.’
‘Cavalier’s the word. That’s our Jack. The problem is, you see, that she believes that she is invincible and that therefore, by extension, so must be anyone under her protection.’
‘I see. The way she put it to me was that it was a matter of noblesse oblige.’
‘She’s certainly getting maximum enjoyment out of her peerage,’ said Amiss.
‘But she has a great sense of duty as well.’ Pooley nodded approvingly.
‘Anyway,’ said Milton, ‘the most useful thing you can do, Robert, is to keep a close eye on what she’s up to, let us know if she’s being particularly reckless and watch your own back.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Got to be off. I need to look in at the Yard and then catch up on some sleep.’
‘How’s Ann?’ Amiss asked Milton as he ushered them out.
‘Still absent. Possibly permanently.’
‘What!’
‘She’s been offered tenure at that American university, wants me to chuck it all in here, join her, and find a new way of making a living.’
‘But why?’
‘You know she never liked the police. I think she wants to save me.’
‘And you?’
‘I think I’m unsaveable. It’s in my blood. How’s Rachel?’
Amiss groaned. ‘Latest news is there’s no chance of her being back here for at least six months. And now these murders have happened she wants me to go back to Delhi. But I can’t. At least, I won’t. Not till this is cleared up.’
Pooley looked at them sympathetically. ‘I must say, you two are certainly doing your best to bring home to me the advantages of being single. At least then you know where you are.’
***
As Milton put the phone down, there was a knock on his door. ‘Come in.’
‘Sir, I’ve been thinking.’
Milton surveyed Pooley with that familiar mingling of wariness and hope. ‘About what?’
‘About the Animal Avengers. I’m sure they’re modelled on the Four Just Men. You know. Edgar Wallace.’
‘Sorry, Ellis. You know this stuff is a closed book to me. Elaborate.’
‘Well, Wallace wrote about these just men who set themselves up as judge, jury, and executioner in cases where the law had failed. They used to get together—with cloaks and black caps and the rest of it, if I remember correctly—survey the case dispassionately and then decide how to carry out the sentence. So, for instance, they once murdered the Home Secretary for passing a bill they thought unjust and another time, and this is more relevant, they killed a man who was about to eradicate the common earthworm.’
‘Well, even I would kill someone who was about to eradicate the common earthworm since that act in itself would probably bring about the end of the world.’ There was a silence. ‘So, Ellis, what particularly makes you suppose that these Avengers, if they exist, are inspired by this low literature?’
‘Tone, really. The righteousness seemed very familiar.’
‘Almost more in sorrow than in anger, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
Milton shrugged. ‘You may be right, but so what?’
‘Well, nothing much except that it suggests that somebody old is in on it. My guess would be that anybody young wouldn’t even have heard of Edgar Wallace, unless they were crime fiction fanatics like me.’
‘OK, Ellis. Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind. You might bring me a sample of the literature sometime. Just at the moment I could use some tips on how to murder the Home Secretary.’
Pooley rushed out with that eager gait that so endeared him to a boss who often required a respite from the company of his jaded, cynical colleagues.
***
‘You’d have thought the demonstrators would have been a bit embarrassed by what has happened. Instead they seem to have redoubled their efforts.’ Amiss sounded slightly breathless, for he and the baroness had just struggled once again through a screaming mob, their path made possible by an honour guard of police which had, from time to time, almost given way under the sheer weight of protestors.
‘Don’t be silly. We’re not dealing with people with finer feelings. If you ask me, we’re dealing with a lot of fucking anarchists who choose to march under the banner of animal activism. They’re trying to bring down the state, not stop people kicking hedgehogs.’
‘I’m sure I saw some woolly hats.’
‘Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re not an anarchist,’ she growled. ‘Christ, I need a drink. Come on.’ And she sped off in the direction of the bar.
***
They were sitting at lunch with Deptford at the same table they had occupied the day after Jack’s introduction, with the same waitress, the same menu, and the same conversations going on around them about the merits of roly-poly over sticky-toffee pudding.
‘You know,’ said Amiss, ‘the place seems completely unaffected by what has happened. It continues to be a sea of tranquillity.’
‘The point of great institutions,’ said the baroness, ‘is that they stand up to disasters without losing their nerve. After all, when you think how the Lords has managed to hold off the waves of modernizers, you can’t expect them to be overexcited by a few corpses.’
‘Come off it, Jack,’ said Deptford. ‘And Robert, for that matter. First of all, there’s only half the usual number here. And second, I bet quite a few of ’em’s covering up blind panic. It’s not going to be easy to get ’em to turn out for the Committee, I can tell you.’
‘Well, we’ve just got to stir them up and rally them with the old Agincourt spirit,’ said the baroness firmly. ‘And we’re starting with a meeting of the hard core on Tuesday to take stock and decide who’s going to do what.’
She turned to Amiss. ‘Book the committee room, then, for eleven o’clock, Tuesday morning. Try to get 4. I like the royal iconography. Order the hard core…’ She smiled grimly. ‘Or at least those that are left, to turn up. Say Bertie said they have to be there. I cleared it with him this morning before he hightailed it to Buttermere. Say there’s to be no backsliding. Won’t stand for it. Got to show these buggers who’s boss.’ She became aware of the hovering form. ‘Right, Agnes. Yes, please. I’ll have the soup. And then the lamb, but make sure it’s pink.’
Agnes betrayed no sign of having heard. ‘My lord?’
Deptford gestured towards Amiss. ‘I’ll have the same. But I’d like the lamb well done, if you don’t mind?’
‘My lord?’
‘Soup and sole, please, Agnes. And we’ll start with a bottle of Chablis.’
Lips pursed, Agnes made a note.
‘Cheer up,’ said the baroness. ‘The sun’s shining.’
‘I hardly think cheerfulness is appropriate, my lady.’ With a sniff, she stalked away.
‘It needs a Scottish accent like hers to extract the maximum venom from a line like that,’ observed Amiss. ‘You really annoy her, don’t you?’
‘Can’t say she’s too keen on anyone,’ said Deptford. ‘She can’t stand Bertie, of all people. And ’ee’s usually the waitresses’ dreamboat. Tries to avoid serving him. Told Lillian she thought he was patronizing.’
‘No point in dwelling on miserable sods.’ The baroness laughed. ‘Only in a place like this could one be rebuked for inappropriate behaviour a few days after eight of the inhabitants had been mown down by a maniac. You’d think she’d be glad to see someone. The joint’s hardly jumping.’
‘Are you surprised?’ asked Amiss. ‘Business has been suspended all week and most of your colleagues seem understandably inclined to sit at home and nurse their wounds rather than instantly plunge into working out next steps on what is, after all, only to do with fox-hunting.’
‘It’s no good lying down under adversity. At the risk of sounding bathetic, Reggie and the rest of them wouldn’t want to have died in vain. It’s our job to ensure they haven’t. So we’d better get on with it.’
Deptford smiled at her. ‘You’re an example to us all, luv.’
‘Forget the flannel, Sid. To work. Who can we find to share the media burden? Requests are coming in thick and fast and you and I seem to be the only prohunting peers left in town. Except for Tommy.’
‘No, no. Not Tommy,’ said Amiss. ‘Not unless you want to throw in the towel with the public immediately. Fox-hunters would become a laughing stock.’
Deptford groaned. ‘Robert’s right, o’course. I’ll back you up by doing the ones you can’t do, Jack. But you’d better face it. You’re going to have to take the lead for the moment. At least until Bertie gets back on Tuesday.’
‘Don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.’
‘Just be yourself. That’ll be enough to hold everyone’s attention.’