Summon Up the Blood (16 page)

The source of the smell was immediately apparent. In a gilded cage at the rear of the foyer a large black cat lay sleeping, its head tucked into the curve of its body.

Quinn gave the club servant a look of quizzical disbelief.

‘Wait here,’ said the doorman. ‘I shall fetch Mr Stannard.’

Quinn crossed to the back of the foyer to study the slumbering beast. It seemed placid enough now, but Quinn doubted the flimsy wires of the cage could hold it if it were roused to anger. A sign at the base of the cage read:

Any member entering the cage does so at his own risk. Keys are available at reception.

As if it sensed that it was being observed, the animal lifted its head. Quinn need not have worried: it was evidently rather old, with a sprouting of grey whiskers around the snout, and clearly used to human company. It sniffed the air myopically but failed to look directly at him. Before long, it nestled its head between its front legs and closed its eyes again.

‘Hello? May I help you?’

Quinn turned to see a tall, upright man of about forty, dressed in formal evening wear. ‘You are?’

‘Stannard. I am the major domo. I presume you are the policeman.’

Quinn nodded. ‘Detective Inspector Quinn. Special Crimes. What is the cat for?’

‘Bertie is our panther.’

‘I see. Because you are the Panther Club, you must have a panther?’

‘There has always been a panther at the Panther Club. Indeed, we keep it in honour of the club’s founders.’

‘In what way does it honour them?’

‘The Panther Club was established in 1764 by a group of young aristocrats who had been expelled en masse from Boodle’s. They were fired for releasing a panther into that club’s precincts. I believe one of the club’s servants died as a result of the mauling he received. And one of the elderly members died from a heart attack. The Panther Club was founded as a place where such wildness would be welcome, even encouraged. They brought the panther with them, as it had naturally been blackballed from Boodle’s.’

Quinn ignored the major domo’s joke. ‘Were they not punished?’

‘They were barred from their club. That was thought to be punishment enough.’

‘These days, the law is rather more severe on those who cause the death of others.’

‘Indeed?’ The interrogative tone Stannard gave the word suggested that this came as news to him.

‘And so, do you get many venturing into the cage?’

‘I should say that every member has feasted with Bertie at least once.’

‘I see. It is some kind of initiation ceremony?’

‘Not at all, Inspector. However, the members do take a rather dim view of any new member who declines the open invitation.’

‘He looks rather harmless,’ said Quinn, glancing back at the panther.

‘She. The current Bertie is female.’

‘What do you mean,
current
Bertie?’

‘Every panther is traditionally called Bertie. In honour of the original.’

‘These traditions are no doubt very quaint,’ said Quinn. ‘But is this still a place where acts of reckless endangerment are encouraged?’

‘As far as we are aware, our members obey the laws of the land when they are outside the confines of the club. Indeed, many of them lead lives of the utmost probity. But a certain atmosphere of licence prevails within the club’s walls. These days it is manifested in what we might call Dionysian revels. Our members are fond of the grape.’

‘And other intoxicants too, I am led to believe. You are responsible for the procurement of such things?’

‘I am in charge of the cellar, if that’s what you mean.’

‘And what about tobacco purchases?’

‘Yes, I oversee that too.’

‘So you placed the order with Featherly’s for a regular supply of opium-infiltrated cigarettes?’

‘We do have a standing order with Featherly’s, that’s true. Offhand, I cannot recall the details of it.’

‘It’s an Egyptian brand. Set.’ Quinn produced the cigarette tin from his breast pocket.

‘Yes, I recognize the brand. It’s very popular with our members.’

‘I will require a list from you of all the members who favour this brand.’

‘I can’t do that! Such indiscretion would get me fired.’

‘No one need ever know. I too can be discreet.’

‘But the simple matter is that practically everyone here smokes them.’

‘Very well, then. You will give me a list of all your members.’

‘No, no, no. You do not know what you’re asking! How can I make you understand? We have high court judges and even members of the government. I am sworn to preserve their anonymity. If it were known . . . if their wives knew – even just the very fact that they are members here! There is only one rule at the Panther Club. What goes on within the confines of the Panther Club remains within the confines of the Panther Club. That applies even to the identities of members.’

‘I don’t see how you can ensure that. They must see one another.’

‘Of course, the members themselves would not reveal one another’s identity, if it were known to them. However, our members – and their guests – are masked, and refer to one another by assumed names. Naturally, some of them recognize each other from outside. It is largely a formality . . .’

‘Another of your quaint
traditions
?’

‘You could say that. But it serves a useful purpose. There is a symbolic significance to the masks.’

‘Mr Stannard, I am investigating an event that took place on the outside. If, as you say, your members behave impeccably when they are not here, then they have nothing to fear.’

‘But they are not
my
members!
I
am employed by
them
. I am their servant. I cannot betray their trust.’

It was at this point that Quinn realized the man was afraid. ‘I could arrest you. Are you prepared to go to prison for them?’

‘If that is necessary . . . then so be it.’

‘Very well. I understand. In that case, I shall return. With men. To raid the premises.’

The major domo screwed up his face as if he was about to burst into tears. ‘No, no. No – please! You mustn’t do that.’

‘Naturally, I would prefer not to. I hate to be a nuisance. But I
can
, you see. That’s the point. Look at it this way, Mr Stannard. I am looking for one man. A vicious killer who has committed an act of such wildness and depravity that even the founders of the Panther Club would have recoiled in horror from it. One man. One very vile and nasty man. The last thing I wish to do is inconvenience everyone here. Believe me, the most likely outcome of your furnishing me with that list is that nothing more will ever be heard of this matter. I will be gone and you will never see me again. Your members will be left alone to live their exemplary lives. I will no doubt discover that there is no connection between the members of the Panther Club and the crime I am investigating. No one need ever know – that is the point. But if you choose
not
give it to me, there will be a raid. Your members will be unmasked, their identities revealed and I will personally see to it that their names are known to every editor in Fleet Street. I can destroy this club and if necessary I will.’

The look of impending tears returned to Stannard’s face. In her cage, Bertie started as if disturbed by a bad dream. She lifted her head and gave a querulous growl.

Q
uinn stepped out. The panel of liquid blackness slipped back into place behind him. He lifted his face up to the night and sniffed the air, a strangely animal gesture. The stench of Bertie’s cage was replaced by the familiar street smells of horse droppings and automobile exhausts.

He felt restored by his success at the Panther Club. The major domo had undertaken to deliver a copy of the list of members to New Scotland Yard the following day.

He lit a Set cigarette and began to retrace his steps to Piccadilly Circus.

But at the sight of the Criterion’s revolving doors, all his renewed confidence left him. The snatches of laughter that escaped in the turn of the doors were harsh and braying, as if the crowd assembled was made up of savage, dog-headed deities.

Perhaps Inchball had been right. He should dispense with all the subterfuge and simply show his warrant badge. How quickly the bar would empty then!

He peered in, trying to locate the satin-clad woman he had noticed earlier. He told himself that if he saw her, he would go inside.

‘Don’t be shy, dearie.’

Quinn turned to see a young man – a youth really, no older than seventeen, probably not even that – grinning rather foolishly at him. The youth was dressed in a flashy, though poorly tailored, suit. A pale grey bowler, or billycock hat, with the brim rolled tight to the sides, was set back on his head. It seemed to be several sizes too small for him.

‘What do you mean?’ said Quinn, his voice charged with hostility.

‘I can see you want to go in. Yer first time, is it?’

‘It’s not like that.’ Quinn bridled to think that this effeminate creature had mistaken him for one of his own type. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘You get all sorts here, you know. You might think that it’s not for you, but I know what it’s like. Get lonely, don’t yer?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Got a lady friend, have yer?’ The question was delivered with a loathsome sneer.

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Thought not.’

‘As a matter of fact, there is someone.’

‘A lady friend?’ The incredulity in the youth’s voice was positively insulting. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Miss Dillard,’ said Quinn, without a moment’s hesitation.

‘Well, if you’ve got your Miss Dillard, wha’cha doing ’ere? Like it both ways, do you? Best of both worlds. My friend tole me about men like you.’

‘How dare you!’

‘Aw’wigh’! Aw’wigh’! Keep yer hair on. It’s jiss the way you was looking in there. Like you really wanted to go in but were afraid to.’

‘No, I . . .’ Quinn winced at his own stupidity. He had forgotten the role he was supposed to be playing. ‘Yes, you’re right. I came here because I’d heard that one could meet fellows, sympathetic fellows.’

‘Wha’ about your Miss Dillard?’

‘There is no Miss Dillard.’

‘Thought so.’

‘I met a fellow once,’ ventured Quinn. He drew too deeply on the cigarette and began to cough.

‘Oh, yeah?’

It was a moment before Quinn could speak, his voice high-pitched and out of control. ‘He gave me his picture.’ Quinn dropped the stub of the Set and ground it into the pavement with his heel.

‘That’s nice.’

‘His name’s Jimmy.’ The portrait of the unknown youth pulsated in the intermittent brilliance of Piccadilly Circus at night.

‘Nice.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘Jimmy, you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hard to say, ain’t it? You sees a lot of people in this game.’

‘He . . . has . . . one . . . very distinguishing feature, which you may have heard talked about.’

‘Oh yeah, wha’s tha’?’

Quinn swallowed. ‘He’s very well-endowed. In the genital area.’

‘Gentle area?’

‘He has a big cock.’

‘Oh, why din’ you say so. You like that, do yer?’

‘No. It’s not like that. You misunderstand. We were friends.’

‘I know. I know. There’s no need to be coy wiv me, mister.’

‘Do you know him?’ insisted Quinn.

The youth took a step closer to Quinn. ‘I know where to find ’im. Come wiv me an I’ll take yer to him.’

‘Really?’

‘I wouldn’t lie to yer, mister.’ The youth jerked his head encouragingly.

‘Where are we going?’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’ The young man turned slowly, keeping Quinn fixed with his gaze for as long as possible. At the last moment, he gave a suggestive hoist of his eyebrows and began to move away with sauntering steps.

Quinn waited for the backward glance with a pounding heart. When it came, it was poised and confident in its power to compel.

He followed at five paces. The youth led him away from the twinkling lights of Piccadilly Circus, back along Piccadilly. His pace was unhurried. Quinn had to slow his step to avoid catching him up.

Eventually they reached the entrance to the Ritz Hotel. He was in amongst the crowds he had looked down upon from the top deck of the omnibus. The glamorous women, he saw now, could only be prostitutes. They cast their mercenary gaze on him, only to quickly dismiss him. Evidently, he passed muster as a renter’s client.

In a moment of panic, he wondered if it was the youth’s intention to take him into the Ritz and insist on a room. Of all the objections to this scheme that clamoured in his head, the loudest was the question of expense. But no. He was relieved to see the young man continue past the hotel.

Then suddenly, inexplicably, he vanished. One minute, he was there ahead of him, his stroll shimmering beneath the lights of Piccadilly. The next, he was gone.

Quinn drew to a bewildered halt.

‘Psst, mister, over ’ere!’

The night fell away to nothing. The young man’s voice came from the void.

A flare of orange light as a match was struck. The grinning face briefly revealed. He was holding out a hand to Quinn. ‘Take me ’and. Then we won’t get separated.’

The match burnt out. The youth vanished again.

‘This way!’

Quinn groped towards the impatient hiss. A hand gripped his. A violent yank and he was pulled down from the pavement into the darkness of Green Park at night.

Quinn wrested his hand out of the other’s. He heard the youth’s footsteps ahead of him, cried out, ‘Stop!’

‘Shhh! You wanna bring the Ole Bill down on us?’ The youth spoke in an urgent whisper. ‘I tole yer to hole on to me.’

‘It’s just that you nearly pulled me over.’

‘Would you rather I pulled you off?’

Quinn was all at once surrounded by the sniggers of unseen men.

‘Who else is here?’

‘You don’t arsk questions like that, mister.’ It was the youth’s voice. ‘Let us get away from the thoroughfare so we can be about our business. ‘’Ere, put yer hand on me shoulder. I’m right in front of yer.’