Chapter 18 - Travelling in Comfort

Twynham to Kent

 

As Mitchell and Ruth hurried away from the pub, a shadow detached itself from an alley. It was Isaac. He fell into step next to them.

“I tried to call you,” Mitchell said.

“And here I am,” Isaac said. “I saw Weaver, and decided to stay out of the way. You know how she gets. You’ve been sweating, Henry. Why so flustered?”

“There was a bomb,” Ruth said.

“What?” Isaac asked.

Mitchell quickly explained.

“Yes, I would say the lesson there is not to play around with explosives,” Isaac said. “Are we going to Dover, then?”

“You’re meant to be keeping an eye on Riley,” Mitchell said.

“She has two eyes of her own,” Isaac said. “Besides, the last I saw of her, she and Maggie were going into Police House. That’s one particular threshold I try not to cross, and lingering outside hardly seemed a good way of remaining inconspicuous.”

“What about Ned Ludd and Mrs Foster?” Mitchell asked.

“Safe inside the convent with Mrs Zhang,” Isaac said. “You know they won’t let me inside. Kelly is on the roof, and she doesn’t want anyone else that high, that way she’ll know to shoot any shadow she sees. Loitering outside a convent would be more noticeable than the police station.”

“The nuns let Ned Ludd inside,” Ruth said. “Why not you?”

“Ah, it’s not an issue of gender,” Isaac said, sidestepping a barrow laden with wizened pears. “That’s a tale that began when they required assistance mounting an expedition to Walsingham. Well, no, it began a few months before that when—”

“Not now, Isaac,” Mitchell said.

“I’ll tell you on the train,” Isaac said to Ruth in a faux-conspiratorial whisper.

“You’re coming with us?” Ruth asked.

“Of course,” Isaac said. “But why is it only the two of you. Weaver seemed to have gathered a veritable army at that pub.”

“There’s a real army in Dover,” Mitchell said. “We’ll call out the Marines just as soon as we know where to deploy them.”

“Wonderful,” Isaac said. “I’d been planning to visit the city, but with the current restrictions, it’s rather difficult.”

“Restrictions?” Ruth asked. They came to a construction crew removing an old-world street light and laying a new one. There were only four workers on the project, but a crowd five times that size were eagerly offering destructive criticism. Ruth always found it surreal how life could continue, oblivious to the danger unfolding all about. “What restrictions?” she asked.

“You need a permit to travel to Kent,” Mitchell said, “because of Calais.”

“Oh. I didn’t realise,” she said.

“It’s new,” Mitchell said. “The paper only mentioned it on an inside page, but it’ll get a more prominent coverage as soon as someone complains.”

“A letter? What a splendid notion, Henry,” Isaac said. “I’ll jot down a few notes as we travel east. Now, tell me again about the explosive.”

“Later,” Mitchell said. They’d reached the station.

The terminus was bustling with goods wagons going north and coal coming south. So much coal, in fact, that four of the passenger platforms had been requisitioned for the transfer of the mineral. A thin cloud of black dust was drifting toward the long lines of passengers waiting to board the services for the Midlands, Wales, or the North. Mitchell pushed through the crowd, and through the barriers guarded by a pair of railway police, to the platforms reserved for the mail train and military services. There was only one train there, a locomotive pulling a single carriage.

“Where’s the smoke stack?” Ruth asked.

“That’s a diesel locomotive,” Mitchell said. “It’s Rebecca’s new train.”

Rebecca Cavendish herself was a little further down the platform, in deep discussion with a colonel of Marines. “Wait here,” Mitchell added, and went to join the two women.

Ruth took in the locomotive. It was newly painted, mostly in off-white with a red cross and blue diagonals that, with a little imagination and a lot of squinting, almost looked like the Union Jack.

“Personally,” Isaac said. “I’d have gone with camouflage.”

“Hmm?” Ruth murmured. “Sorry?”

“For the train,” Isaac said. “Rather than that red, white, and blue design. The train’s going to France.”

“It is?” Ruth asked.

“That’s what I hear,” Isaac said. “They’ll use it to get troops ahead of the bandits once they’ve pushed them out of the city. They want that done before Christmas.”

“How did you hear?” Ruth asked.

“By listening,” Isaac said. Ruth didn’t press. “Now, tell me again about this pub. Explain again why you were there.”

So Ruth told him, though she kept her attention on the crowds on the other side of the barrier. Her impression of the station had always been that it was busy, but now it seemed frenetic, and it was only mid-afternoon.

Mitchell returned. The colonel continued her conversation with Rebecca Cavendish.

“We’re going to catch a ride with Rebecca,” Mitchell said. “She’s taking her locomotive south in about twenty minutes. She’ll collect a cargo of artillery shells from the depot near Horsham, and then take them through the Channel Tunnel. I’m going to send a telegram to Riley to let her know where we’re going.”

“You could call her,” Isaac said. “I gave her a tablet.”

“And I had to stop her from burying it in the garden,” Mitchell said. “Last time I checked, it was at the back of the kitchen drawer.” He walked off.

Ruth walked over to a bench and sat down. Isaac sat next to her.

“Riley doesn’t trust you, does she?” Ruth said.

“She trusts me with Henry’s life,” Isaac said. “Though you’re right, we have a complicated relationship.”

“There was something I wanted to ask you about,” Ruth said.

“About Riley? Or Mitchell? Or perhaps about that rather peculiar trip to Walsingham?”

“No. About Simon. Simon Longfield. What did you do with him? I mean, you said you sent him to Switzerland, but… well, I mean, is he dead?”

“Possibly.”

“You don’t know?” Ruth asked.

“I set him a task. A mission, if you like. An opportunity to redeem himself.”

“In Switzerland?”

“It was an odd country,” Isaac said. “You know that they had nuclear bunkers for every citizen, and that every citizen was meant to keep four months of supplies to hand in case of nuclear war? A product of being a small country surrounded by eternally belligerent neighbours.”

“What’s in Switzerland?” Ruth asked.

“Now? Probably nothing. Certainly not a functioning state.”

“Then why did you send him?” she asked.

“It was a country once famous for many things, but perhaps most famous for its banks and its vaults.”

“Ah.” Ruth sensed she was getting close to the truth. “And there’s something inside one of those?”

“That is what I’m not sure of,” Isaac said. “There might be. There might not. If I were certain, I might have gone myself. But even if it is still there, I’m not sure it will help.”

“Help who? Us, or you?”

“In the long run, both of us,” Isaac said.

“This is about that artificial consciousness you created isn’t it?” Ruth said. “And this phone network, that’s not just so you can call Mister Mitchell, is it?”

“In a way, but only in the same way that everything is connected to the past and leading us towards the future,” he said.

“After you… after you and Maggie started all of this, after you created that consciousness, after the world was destroyed, she worked in refugee camps and then she became a teacher. Whereas you… I don’t know what you did, but you’re not trying to redeem yourself, are you?”

“I’ve done nothing that would require redemption,” Isaac said.

“What are you doing, Isaac? What are you up to?”

“A lot of things,” Isaac said. “There is a lot of planning, a lot of talking, a lot of thinking here in Twynham. What’s lacking are people who are actually doing.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“I’ll tell you about Walsingham.”

“No, don’t bother,” Ruth said. She remembered what Mitchell had said, and what Riley had once told her. She could only hope that, once this case was closed, the next one wouldn’t involve Isaac.

 

When Mitchell returned he was grim-faced.

“What is it?” Isaac asked.

“I sent a message to Riley, and got one in reply,” he said.

“What did she say?” Ruth asked.

Mitchell glanced around, taking in the crowd, and then the handful of workers moving towards the train. “Not here,” he said. “I’ll tell you when we’re on the train.”

The door was guarded by a burly man, six-feet-six, broad shouldered, with a tapered waist, and in a uniform that had to have been tailored for him. He saluted Captain Mitchell.

“Cooper Rehnquist,” he said. “I’ll show you aboard.”

The carriage was different to those Ruth had previously travelled on. Those old-world passenger wagons had scratched windows, scuffed floors, and hastily re-upholstered seats. This carriage was immaculately clean and looked recently made. It was split into compartments, but with a wide aisle running down the platform-side. Running along the corridor, and underneath the exterior windows, was a polished-oak rail, positioned at the height a woman in a wheelchair could easily grab. Above the rail, the windows were clean and smear-free. Each had a set of heavy green curtains currently held back by a red braid rope. Not a single thread was hanging loose, nor was there a solitary speck of dirt on the floor, or smudge on the polished steel surrounding the compartment doors.

Judging by the discreet unoccupied sign above the lock, the first door belonged to a toilet. The door to the next was open. Inside was a storeroom and portable telegraph office. The third compartment contained a small galley. The one after that contained two rows of seats facing one another.

“This is you,” Rehnquist said.

“How delightful,” Isaac said. “Is the panelling oak?”

The guard frowned. “I… I dunno. Is it important?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Mitchell said. “Thank you.”

They went inside and closed the door.

“Well, this is pleasant,” Isaac said. “Though it’s a little anachronistic, don’t you think? Polished steel rather than chrome or brass, and it’s a diesel locomotive rather than steam.”

“What was in the message from Riley?” Ruth asked.

Mitchell took out the slip of yellow telegram paper. “Here.”

“Ah, it’s a puzzle,” Isaac said. “Two words. Arm, un-broken. Or do you think the hyphen makes it three words?”

“What does it mean?” Ruth asked.

Before Mitchell could answer, Rebecca Cavendish opened the door.

“We’re about to leave,” she said. “The mail train and cargo services will be directed into sidings. It should take us two hours to reach the depot where we’ll collect the artillery wagons. It’ll take another two hours after that to reach Dover.”

The train juddered. The carriage jolted. They began to move.

Cavendish took out a pocket watch. She smiled. “Right on time. Now, can you perhaps give me some more information on what this is about, Henry? You said you were chasing a killer. Is it connected with the fire at the courthouse?”

“It is,” Mitchell said. “It’s connected to a string of crimes, and they are connected to that business with Longfield.”

“I heard the man you arrested in Dover escaped. Adamovitch, wasn’t it? He’s the one you’re chasing?”

Mitchell pointed at the telegram. “It seems not. There was one corpse in the courthouse. The coroner has just completed an initial exam. The body was so badly burned we’ll never be absolutely sure, but that message says the corpse’s arm was un-broken. When Ruth stopped the assassination of the old prime minister, she shot Emmitt in the arm, breaking the bone. The man in the cells isn’t Emmitt.”

“It’s Adamovitch?” Cavendish asked.

“Almost certainly,” Mitchell said.

“Emmitt escaped?” Ruth asked. “He killed Adamovitch?”

“And you think he went to Dover?” Cavendish asked.

“I think so,” Mitchell said. “I’d thought Adamovitch had escaped and was eliminating all the loose ends. I was wrong. Emmitt escaped, and he’s seeking revenge. Someone in Dover sent that telegram warning the sniper that Adamovitch was on the train, and I can’t think of anyone else Emmitt would want to kill.”

“Then I’m glad this is your problem and I just have a war to fight,” Cavendish said. “I’ll send someone with some refreshments shortly.”

She closed the door and wheeled her chair towards the engine.

“Emmitt’s alive,” Ruth murmured.

“It seems so,” Mitchell said.

“Were we wrong about everything else?” Ruth asked.

“I don’t think so,” Mitchell said. “On balance, I’d say that our theory holds up to the point where the fire began. The incendiary was placed in the courthouse months ago. Possibly that was simply done in case Emmitt was arrested, perhaps there was another motive. Similarly, the assault on Calais was probably part of some other scheme. However, from the moment he was arrested, Emmitt planned to use the fire to mask his escape, and for that attack in France to tie up our resources so there would be few people to search for him. Adamovitch and Makepeace were trying to take over from Longfield and Emmitt. Adamovitch tried to murder Emmitt in those cells, but Emmitt is an assassin, Adamovitch was just a butler. He died. Emmitt escaped.”

“And then Emmitt went after Makepeace,” Ruth said. “I think that’s who was in his room. I mean, that masked man didn’t make much of an effort to kill me. The only person we know who might deliberately leave me alive is Emmitt.”

“He killed Makepeace,” Isaac said. “Presumably he then headed for Dover to kill… what did you say his name was?”

“Mr Watanabe,” Ruth said. “He used to co-own that repair business, but sold his share so he could buy passage to Japan. Now he’s just another employee. I guess he wants to return to his previous level of wealth.”

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Isaac said. “Yanuck ran a smuggling ring, bringing people and old-world weaponry into Britain. The ammunition was smuggled into Dover in the false bottoms of metal beer barrels that were made in this repair shop.”

“By Mr Wilson, the painter and first victim,” Ruth said.

“And under the instruction of Mr Watanabe,” Isaac said. “Okay, these barrels went to Makepeace who sold the ammunition in Twynham. Yes?”

“And for Longfield and Emmitt, it was always more about blackmail than money,” Ruth said. “Know who’s committed a crime, and you can get them to commit another. But with Longfield dead, Adamovitch and Makepeace, and Watanabe, decided to take over.”

“Take over what?” Isaac asked. “If the attacks on Calais were central to Emmitt’s plans, and if those attacks were put in place months ago, then surely they knew that the smugglers would be useless the moment that the assault began. Emmitt wanted that smuggling ring shut down. That’s why he picked the pub for that meeting. He and Longfield didn’t want lots of ammunition on the streets, not long term, not when they planned to take over the government from the inside. While the authorities, namely Mitchell and as many Marines as he could muster, were chasing smugglers across Europe, those attacks on Calais would have occurred, yes? And then there would have been a regiment or two fewer to face them. Calais might have fallen, the Tunnel breached, and Dover besieged. That was Emmitt’s plan. With that in tatters, what was it Adamovitch and Makepeace wanted? What did they think they’d gain? There’s no more ammunition coming in from Europe. Neither of them can run for office, and that was how Longfield planned to seize power. Adamovitch was on the run. Makepeace intended to fake his own death. What I’m asking is what was their end game? Where, in all of this, did they see their victory, because the only ending I see for them is death?”

“Good point,” Mitchell said. He closed his eyes, and leaned back. Ruth waited a moment to see if he’d offer an answer, then looked to Isaac to see if he’d suggest one.

Isaac shrugged. “It’s a puzzle,” he said. “I’m going to investigate that kitchen.”

Ruth turned her eyes to the window, replaying the events, looking for the clue that she’d missed.

They sped through fields and forests, and then through ruins too fast for her to identify whether the people moving about were a work gang, scavengers, or looters.

Minutes turned to hours. Cooper Rehnquist opened the door to the compartment, informing them that they would be stopping soon to collect the cargo wagons for the garrison. By the time the wagons were attached and the train began the final leg of its journey towards Dover, Ruth realised that the only question that mattered was whether they would reach Dover before Emmitt wrought his revenge on Mr Watanabe.