Kelly and his men came back, as Mallon said they would, in a more civil mode, but no less determined, after an interval of almost five weeks. As the days passed, Swallow had started to wonder if perhaps Mallon was wrong. Maybe Kelly’s masters had overruled him. Or perhaps he had simply given up. But Mallon was not wrong. The search time, Mallon told him the previous evening, had been fixed for ten o’clock. When they arrived, precisely on the hour, there were no threats, no guns; just a look of cold insinuation on Kelly’s face as he led his posse into Exchange Court.
There were six of them this time. Swallow recognised two from the RIC crime office in the Lower Yard. The others were strangers. Military, he guessed, or former military. They carried themselves with the air of rank. Stern, tough-looking characters. Officers, he knew. Men accustomed to taking orders and, in turn, being obeyed. But they did not have the ceaselessly searching eyes that characterise the experienced police detective.
Mallon was good on his promise that he would be on hand to ensure that the search was conducted with propriety. This was going to be done by the book. Comparisons in rank between police and military were an imprecise science, but the chief superintendent of G-Division certainly outranked an army major. So protocol required that the process should start by Kelly presenting himself at Mallon’s office. Mallon reciprocated the gesture of respect by arranging for his visitor to be offered tea.
Swallow sat on a window ledge in the corridor until they emerged perhaps ten minutes later.
‘The major and his men are ready to start now, Detective Inspector,’ Mallon said curtly. ‘Please start with the public office. I’ve assured Major Kelly that we will extend every co-operation. Our men will work side by side with his throughout the search.’
‘We will operate in teams of two,’ Kelly announced. ‘I want one team to start where the logs are normally filed and then to check other regular storage places. I want another team to start in the detective inspector’s and the crime sergeants’ offices. The third team will search the sleeping and recreation quarters.’
Swallow gritted his teeth. Kelly had done his homework very thoroughly. He knew the layout of the Exchange Court building in detail and the functions of every room and office. In all probability someone within the G-Division had been rewarded for the information.
‘I’ll accompany the team searching the storage and public areas,’ he told Kelly. ‘Detective Sergeant Mossop will go with the team searching the offices. Detective Feore will go with those searching the dormitory and the recreation area.’
Kelly nodded to the two that Swallow had identified as police.
‘You go with Mr Swallow.’
He led them down the stairway to the public office. Earlier, he had ensured that every filing cabinet and drawer in the office was unlocked and ready for inspection. He jerked his head to the G-man on duty.
‘We need to close the front door for a while. You can divert any callers down the Lower Yard to the back entrance while this is going on.’
He gestured around the room.
‘There you go. Everything is unlocked. Any questions, just ask me.’
The older of the two men gestured apologetically.
‘Look, you should understand that we don’t like doing this one little bit.’
The accent was English. London.
‘We’re coppers, like you. Special Irish Branch, New Scotland Yard. Seconded to work with Kelly. We’re in this together, you know. The name’s Tom Evans. This is Denis Coombes.’
‘You’re not together with me in anything, Mr Evans,’ Swallow replied coldly. ‘You’re English. I’m Irish. And the only reason I’m in your company is because you have a warrant.’
‘Come on, Swallow,’ Evans said impatiently. ‘Kelly’s our guv’nor while we’re here. He told us, “Swallow knows where they are, these bloody logs.” So let’s stop wasting time. We’re not going to start rummaging in these cupboards because we know the damned things aren’t here. But we’ll get them in the end. So save yourself and us a lot of trouble.’
‘So Major Kelly is a clairvoyant as well as all his other talents,’ Swallow sneered. ‘You’re fortunate to work for such a remarkable individual.’
Evans shrugged.
‘Have it your own way, Swallow. But you might be interested to know that Major Kelly has put up a reward of a hundred quid for whoever turns in these bloody books. Imagine, a hundred quid. Half a year’s pay. Up front. Denis and me, we’d be happy to split that three ways with somebody who’d be helpful, if you get my drift.’
Swallow felt his anger rising.
‘Offering an inducement to a police officer is a serious offence, Mr Evans. Maybe they don’t think so at New Scotland Yard?’
He saw anger rise in Evans’s eyes.
‘You wouldn’t know how we think at New Scotland Yard, Swallow. We’ve got a proper police force there. Not like this backwater. But let me tell you, we’ve got men there who’d be ashamed to admit they shared your nationality. True Irishmen, loyal to their Queen and their empire.’
Swallow shook his head.
‘You don’t understand a bit of it, do you?’
He nodded towards Evans’s silent companion.
‘Neither do you, I suspect. You’ve no idea why you’re here. You’ve no clue about what’s at stake. And you really don’t want to, do you?’
Evans’s eyes flashed with anger. He crossed the office and flung open the doors of a double-fronted tallboy cabinet.
‘Right. We’ve tried to do this the friendly way. We’ve put out the hand of co-operation, but you’re not interested. So be it. But we’ve got a job to do. Come on, Denis. Pitch in here.’
They started to pull manila files from the shelves, scattering papers and records. When the floor was littered, Evans went to the duty officer’s desk, drew out the drawers and emptied their contents onto the floor. Coombes riffled through the sheets and forms, tossing them to left and right after cursorily glancing through them. When every drawer had been emptied, Evans joined in.
After a few minutes, they gave up.
‘Now,’ Evans wiped his hands together, ‘let’s see how we get on in the rest of this dump.’
Swallow stayed with them as they went at random from one department to the next. Over his head he could hear the crash of iron bedsteads on the floor above as another team searched the dormitory where the single G-men slept. It was clear from the cursory examination of each cupboard and drawer that they did not expect to locate the logs in any of the obvious places. This was simple provocation; a display of power for its own sake designed to humiliate and to show who was top dog.
At one point, as they crossed the landing to the stationery stores, they encountered Kelly and Mallon standing side by side. There was no conversation. The expressions on both men’s faces made it plain that neither was pleased to be in the other’s company.
The operation at Exchange Court took less than two hours to complete. By then, each office, storage space and utility room had been searched. Every cupboard and drawer had been opened. Every series of records had been examined. Each G-man’s personal locker had been opened and checked.
Kelly dismissed his team and waited with Mallon and Swallow in the public office as his men filed out. He glared at Mallon.
‘What angers me more than anything else, Detective Chief Superintendent, is the absolute transparency of what has happened here. You have complete records and logs up to three years ago. After that, they simply disappear. You haven’t even made an effort to pretend that this is a lack of organisation. You’ve simply taken away the ones that you’ve been ordered by your authorities to provide.’
‘I can only tell you I don’t know where they are,’ Mallon replied sharply.
Kelly nodded.
‘Words very carefully chosen, Mr Mallon. And indeed, you may not know where they are.’
He turned to stare at Swallow.
‘But somebody here does. And I suspect I wouldn’t have to search very far to find out who that is. I’m not going to let it end at this. There are other places we have yet to look. And getting warrants won’t be a problem, I can assure you.’
Swallow returned his stare and held it. Mallon gestured to the door, smiling coldly.
‘And I wish you a very merry Christmas too, Major Kelly.’