I SAT IN MacAuley’s office. Except it wasn’t MacAuley’s office any more. It was a room in transition: Stevens’ belongings, neatly boxed, sat next to the desk, ready to be unpacked. Meanwhile MacAuley’s things had been thrown haphazardly into crates, ready for God knows what.
I’d no idea where Stevens was. Miss Grant had told me her new boss would be along presently. That was ten minutes ago. After five minutes, I’d grown tired of staring at the photograph on the desk of Stevens and his wife and instead took to staring out of the window. It was far more interesting. The whole of Dalhousie Square was laid out below. It looked better from up here, away from the heat and the smell. The best views are often the preserve of powerful men.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’
I turned to find Stevens walking towards me. There was a grin on his face, like a child with a new toy.
‘The view or the office?’ I asked.
‘The view, of course. The office is, well,…’ His voice trailed off.
He looked to be in his thirties, young for someone so senior, and there was a nervous energy about him, a jerkiness to his movements that suggested a man not wholly at ease.
‘Captain Wyndham, is it?’ he said, directing me to a chair. He sat down behind his desk, adjusting the high-backed leather chair and raising it a few inches. ‘You’ve caught me at a rather difficult juncture. The L-G moves to Darjeeling next week before it gets too hot, and half of Government House is going with him. Of course, it’s up to us here at Writers’ to sort everything out for them. This unfortunate business with MacAuley couldn’t have come at a worse time.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘his murder must have been inconvenient for you.’
He stared at me, trying to gauge the sentiment behind the comment. I wondered what he’d make of it, especially as I wasn’t sure myself.
‘What can I do for you, Captain?’ he said finally. ‘I can’t spare long, I’m afraid. I’ve an urgent meeting with Sir Evelyn Crisp this afternoon.’
The name meant nothing to me. Not that it made a difference. He could have been best man at my wedding and I’d still have feigned ignorance, just to see Stevens’ reaction.
‘He’s the managing director of the Bengal and Burma Banking Corporation,’ he clarified. I applied what I thought was an appropriate expression of awe. It seemed Stevens was the type of man who liked to drop names. That was good. A confident man would have no need to tell me who he was meeting afterwards.
‘I’ll get to the point,’ I said. ‘How long had you worked for MacAuley?’
‘Too long.’ He laughed. The comment was in bad taste and he realised as much. His tone became serious. ‘That’s to say, I reported to him for the last three years. Prior to that I was posted elsewhere.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Rangoon.’
‘And your relationship with Mr MacAuley? How would you characterise it?’
‘Professional.’
‘Not warm? You worked together for three years.’
Stevens picked up a fountain pen and distractedly tapped it on the desk. ‘He wasn’t the easiest of men to work with.’
‘In what sense?’
‘Let’s just say he was rather set in his ways. There was never any room for discussion with MacAuley. Things always had to be done his way. It was as though he regarded the exercise of independent thought by others as a personal affront.’
‘You found it difficult to work with him?’
‘No more than anyone else did.’ He examined the pen in his hand, as though seeing it for the first time. Maybe he was. Maybe it was MacAuley’s.
‘Any disagreements between the two of you recently?’
He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall.’
I thought back to what Annie had said – of MacAuley and Stevens arguing the previous week about import taxes. Odd that Stevens should forget such a thing.
‘What about others? Did he have any enemies?’
‘It’s possible. As I say, he was unpopular, even for a Scotsman.’
‘Did he display any odd behaviour recently?’
‘He came in drunk once or twice in the last month. I thought it strange as I’d heard he’d given up alcohol.’
‘Did anyone call him up on it?’
‘Of course not. MacAuley wasn’t just the head of finance – he was the L-G’s special friend. That made him bulletproof.’
It was another poor choice of words. Bulletproof he may have been, but he’d certainly been susceptible to knives.
‘And are you taking over all of MacAuley’s responsibilities?’
‘On the finance front at least. In fact, that’s more than enough to be getting on with. It’s been a mission keeping things moving over the last few days.’
‘I expect MacAuley was vital to the running of things.’
‘That depends on how you look at it.’ He laughed. ‘In terms of work, the department functioned perfectly well without him. However, MacAuley’s authorisation was required for certain things – all payments and movements of funds above a hundred thousand rupees, for example. Money oils the wheels of government and without his signature, nothing could move. Not a good position to be in when half the government’s moving up to Darjeeling.’
‘And that power of authorisation couldn’t simply be transferred to someone else?’
‘Oh it was. The L-G transferred signing powers to me within hours on Wednesday morning. The only problem was we couldn’t find a lot of the requisite documents that needed authorisation. Turned out the old man had taken them home with him.’
‘The documents Miss Grant was dispatched to bring back from MacAuley’s flat?’
‘What?’ he said, flustered. ‘Yes, I suppose so, in part.’
‘What did they relate to?’
‘The usual things.’ He shrugged. ‘Authorisation for salaries payments mainly and for transfers of funds. MacAuley should have signed the papers on Monday but he took them home and sat on them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got drunk and forgot he had them. By the time we got them back, we’d begun receiving urgent telegrams from up-country wondering where the hell their wages were.’
‘What about policy matters?’ I asked. ‘I understand MacAuley played a role in formalising fiscal policy. Is that another area you’ll be taking over?’
His eyes lit up. ‘I hope so. There’s a lot to be done in that sphere. But that’s up to the L-G.’
‘Such as?’ I asked. Like most men, I didn’t much care for tax policy, but it can get a certain breed of bureaucrat very excited. MacAuley and Stevens had argued over it, and it would be useful to know if it was just an accountants’ tiff or if there was something deeper.
‘Lots,’ he replied. ‘Where do I start? Many of our taxes are regressive and as for our import tariffs, some of them are nonsensical. They positively hinder business.’
There was a knock on the door and Annie entered.
‘Sir Evelyn to see you, sir.’
‘Ah good,’ said Stevens, rising from behind his desk. ‘Tell him I won’t be a moment.’
He turned to me. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Captain, but I’m afraid we’re out of time. If you’ve any more questions, please feel free to speak to Miss Grant about scheduling another meeting when things are calmer.’
I walked back to Lal Bazar in a daze. In my head, a picture was forming. It was still blurred, like the image through a camera lens before it’s focused, but something seemed to be taking shape. I reached the office and immediately telephoned Surrender-not at the Plassey Gate thana.
‘Any news?’
‘No, sir. There’s been very little traffic leaving the fort as yet. I’ve also placed a watch on the bridge.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘There’s something else I need you to do. I want you to take a look at the business interests of Stevens, MacAuley’s former deputy, especially anything to do with Burma.’
‘I’ll have a constable check at Companies House,’ said Banerjee.
‘Let me know the moment you hear back.’
‘There’s one other thing, sir. Ten minutes ago, I received a rather irate message from the station master at Sealdah station, telling me he was doing his best to locate the baggage manifest, and asking why we had requested the military to requisition all his records for the last fortnight.’
‘But we did no such thing.’
‘I know, sir. I don’t understand it.’
‘I think I do,’ I said. ‘Section H. I mentioned the attack on the Darjeeling Mail to Dawson. He must have given the order to seize the records. Without the baggage manifest, we’ll never know what, if anything, was supposed to be on that train.’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’ It sounded like he blamed himself, not that there was anything he could have done about it. That was the trouble with the boy. He was always falling on his sword over something or other.
I sighed. ‘Why are you apologising, Sergeant? It was my fault, if anything. I was the one who told Dawson about the attack.’
‘Still, if the manifest had been filed at the right time, we’d have received it before Section H ever got involved.’
Something in my brain clicked. ‘What did you say, Sergeant?’
The question seemed to take him by surprise. ‘Just that, if the railways personnel hadn’t mislaid the paperwork, the baggage manifest would have been filed at the right time and we’d have got a hold of it by now.’
‘Bloody hell, Surrender-not! You’re a genius!’ I said as I dropped the phone, grabbed my hat and ran out of the office.
For once I didn’t notice the heat as I raced back to Dalhousie Square and up the stairs at the front of Writers’ Building.
I burst into Annie Grant’s office, dripping sweat on the carpet.
‘Captain Wyndham,’ she said, startled, ‘did you forget something?’
I caught my breath. ‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Stevens is in another meeting. I’m not sure when he’ll be able to see you.’
‘It’s you I came to see, Miss Grant,’ I panted. ‘Those papers you retrieved from MacAuley’s apartment. Did they include documents authorising the transfer of funds?’
She looked at me curiously. ‘Why yes, as it happens. They were authorisation for the transfer of funds up to Darjeeling in anticipation of the L-G’s move next week.’
‘Can you tell me how much?’
‘Two hundred and seven thousand rupees. It was to be transferred from the treasury in Calcutta up to Darjeeling.’
‘And was the transfer of funds delayed because MacAuley had taken the documents home?’
‘Yes, but only by a day.’
‘Let me guess. Were the funds supposed to be dispatched on Wednesday night’s Darjeeling Mail?’
She stared at me as if I was some clairvoyant Indian fakir. ‘Why yes. But how did you—’
‘How many people knew that the funds were supposed to be transferred on Wednesday night?’
‘Lots.’ She shrugged. ‘Almost everyone here in the finance department, a lot of people in the L-G’s office, railway officials, the military who provide the security. It’s not exactly a secret, it happens every year.’
Two hundred and seven thousand rupees. Enough cash to keep Sen and his gang in arms and explosives for a very long time. And they’d have had it too, if MacAuley hadn’t taken the documents home and then got himself killed. My head buzzed. Suddenly I had all the pieces. All I needed now was to find Sen.