The Eloquence of the Dead (41 page)

Swallow caught Mallon's eye. Smith Berry's invocation of the various high functionaries indicated that the stakes were rising.

‘I believe that the … irregularities – shall we use that term? – that have come to light … have now been contained, and it is thanks to the excellent work of Mr Mallon and yourself. We have determined the extent of these irregularities, and I believe I can say with certainty that they will not recur.'

‘I think you should speak plainly to Sergeant Swallow, Sir,' Mallon said wearily, ‘with the greatest respect.'

The Assistant Under-Secretary appeared puzzled.

‘Is there any more to say, Mr Mallon?'

Mallon's face was clouded with anger.

‘Sergeant Swallow and his colleagues have put in weeks of work on this case. They've not seen their homes or their beds for days at a stretch. They've engaged in some of the most impressive police work that I've seen in my career.'

He paused to draw breath.

‘Sergeant Swallow can speak for himself. But I know that he came to work this morning in the expectation that before the day grew old he would be making arrests, taking in the people who've been behind this business.'

There was silence. The Assistant Under-Secretary licked his lips nervously before he spoke.

‘Yes, of course, Mr Mallon. I will explain what I can.'

He fixed his eyes somewhere on the ceiling.

‘Mr Swallow, you are aware that the government's overriding objective at this time is to successfully conclude the transfer of properties across the country from the landowners to their tenants. The Cabinet is of the view that therein is the best prospect for peace and stability in the country and indeed for the entire kingdom.'

‘I understand, Sir.'

‘Therefore, nothing can be allowed to disrupt or interfere with this process, don't you see?'

‘Yes, Sir, but surely.…'

‘If it were to become generally known that it had been corrupted, right up to the level of the Treasury Office, we might well have threats by Mr Parnell or by the leaders of the tenants' organisations to have nothing to do with it. Or indeed we might have a fit of nerves on the part of some of the bigger landowners who aren't yet fully convinced about what is on offer to them.'

‘These are things beyond my remit,' Swallow said carefully.

He tried to catch Mallon's eye, but the chief was studiously staring at the tabletop in front of him.

‘Yes. Well, we are relying on Mr Mallon's diplomatic skills to keep Mr Parnell happy on this. Meanwhile, the Chief Secretary and perhaps even the Lord Lieutenant will talk to some of the more influential leaders of the landowners. And the speediest of action will be taken to … shall we say … neutralise those elements within the administration that have been engaged in this corruption.'

Swallow felt a tightening in his chest as his anger rose. He knew exactly what he was being told. The case was being buried to suit the politics of the moment. He understood why Mallon looked furious.

He decided to play his own mischievous game.

‘This is very good to hear, Sir. So you'll want me to act immediately. I can have the principal offenders in Kilmainham in a matter of hours. I'm expecting a report back from Detective Officer Feore. Last night he seized the relevant papers at the Treasury Office.'

Smith Berry flushed crimson.

‘That is not how we intend to proceed from here, Sergeant. In the circumstances … the sensitivity … very great sensitivity … I have decided that any future steps in the matter will be taken out of the hands of G-Division and will be carried out by officers under Major Kelly's direction, reporting directly to me. Let me tell you furthermore that the papers seized under warrant by Detective Feore at the Treasury Office have been brought directly to me.'

Swallow saw a creamy grin spread across Kelly's face.

‘Are you saying that someone superseded my orders to Detective Feore?'

‘Yes. I did. And I have now passed the matter to Major Kelly.

‘Where's Feore then? I'll wring his bloody neck.'

Mallon intervened.

‘It's not Mick Feore's fault. He received a direct order from Mr Smith Berry and I had to confirm it. I swore him to silence and told him to take today off as a rest day.'

Swallow could not contain himself any longer.

‘One of my own men, taken away from my command and … subverted. And then you tell me that Major Kelly is taking over the case! He knows fuck all about this investigation, or any other. He's … as thick as pig shit in a bottle.'

‘How dare you, Swallow!' Smith Berry shouted. ‘The highest authorities … let me be blunt with you … want this business buried. No fuss. No charges. No publicity.'

‘You mean that criminals who've defrauded the Treasury are going to go unpunished, Sir? This isn't just a matter of land and money; people have died. Lives have been lost. Other people's lives have been put in jeopardy.'

The Assistant Under-Secretary shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘It's not that criminals will go unpunished, Sergeant. Oh no, far from it. The principal offender's career is blasted and he is disgraced. He will be offered a place in the Colonies that will reflect the odium to which he has been relegated. For a man of his former position I assure you he will be severely punished.'

‘You're saying that there won't be any charges.'

‘I am.'

Swallow was silent.

‘I think I can say to you, Sergeant, that your zeal in these matters has not gone unnoticed,' Smith Berry said.

He wanted to shout back. He wanted to throw it in his face that he had no need of compliments. He had been zealous and successful in other high-profile investigations without any recognition or tangible reward.

‘I have to abide by my authorities' decisions, Sir,' he said finally.

‘There's one other matter, Sergeant, that needs to be dealt with.'

‘What's that, Sir?'

‘You have this fellow Darby in custody. The man you shot during the attempted raid at Greenberg's. I believe the best course of action is to return him to England.'

‘I don't understand, Sir.'

‘Think it through, Sergeant. If he comes to trial he will claim to have been working under government instructions. The whole business about the Mount Gessel fraud, the coins, the silver, it would all have to come out.'

‘He had a knife to an innocent woman's throat in the shop. I don't doubt he'd have used it if he had to. I saw it.'

Smith Berry paused.

‘I understand, of course, that you have a … certain affinity … with Miss Greenberg. That makes it more difficult for you. But it could also be embarrassing for the police, not to say problematic for yourself, if he were to allege that you shot him unnecessarily because of some … personal motive.'

Swallow's anger spilled out again.

‘Personal motive!? For Christ's sake, I had a split second to decide. I acted as a good policeman should, in order to protect life and property. It had nothing to do with any so-called “personal motive”. You should be giving me a bloody medal instead of threatening me.'

Smith Berry coloured in anger.

‘You forget yourself again, Sergeant. How dare you speak to me in those terms?'

‘Now,' he pointed to the door, ‘I repeat, I'm aware of what you have done. Because of that I'm going to pretend that you haven't said what you just did or used the language you did. Go back to your duties and make sure that my directions in relation to Darby are complied with speedily.'

Mallon stood. He caught Swallow's eye.

‘There appears to be nothing further that requires police attention here,' Mallon said. ‘If that is so, Detective Sergeant Swallow and I will return to Exchange Court.'

Swallow recovered his self-control.

‘May I request one item of information before I go?' he asked.

‘What's that Sergeant?' Smith Berry asked cautiously.

‘I'd like at least to know the identity of the chief organiser of this conspiracy. Who signed off on the imaginary land sales that the Treasury paid for?'

‘No, Sergeant. It's restricted now. Only Major Kelly will need to know it. He will shortly proceed with his men to take that individual into custody and return him to London.'

‘You know he has the blood of quite a few people his hands? Ambrose Pollock, Arthur Clinton, Teddy Shaftoe, just to name the ones we know about.'

‘Yes. But I'm glad you didn't use the term “innocent people.” All of them were involved in this criminal process.'

Swallow shook his head.

‘Mr Smith Berry, the Crown doesn't deserve the loyalty that people like me give it. I do my job because I think this country needs order and peace and a bit more fair play. I just hope we're able to hold it together a bit longer.'

‘We all have our orders to follow, Detective Sergeant.'

 

SEVENTY-FOUR

In the afternoon, he went with Mallon to visit Lady Margaret Gessel for the last time at the Shelbourne Hotel. West Ridgeway had arranged for her to be escorted by one of his officials to the evening sailing from Kingstown.

Swallow was still seething. Mallon had made an unsuccessful effort to soothe him.

‘They have their own ways of sorting things out,' he said. ‘They have ways of inflicting pain.'

‘Maybe I'm old-fashioned,' Swallow's tone was bitter, ‘but I relish the idea of a cold cell, hard labour and lousy food for the criminal, whatever class he comes from. They're protecting one of their own, I don't doubt it.'

Mallon did not dissent.

They sat in the Windsor Room looking out across the square. The trees were rapidly losing what was left of their foliage. Winter was tightening its grip on Dublin.

‘I want to say thank you for your help, Lady Margaret,' Mallon said when she had joined them. ‘It wouldn't have been possible to put the full picture together without your assistance.'

‘You're very welcome, Mr Mallon. And you too, Mr Swallow. I hope you have enough to nail them all, whoever they are.'

‘I think so.' He was vague. ‘We got some of them. And we put a stop to their game.'

‘Let me ask you a direct question, Mr Mallon.'

‘Ma'am?'

‘Is my husband's cousin, Sir Richard Gessel, involved in any way in the fraud?'

Swallow saw his boss tense.

‘I can say that I have no knowledge of him being involved.'

Classic Mallon.

‘Thank you, Mr Mallon. That is some slight relief.'

Later, Swallow took custody of Jack Darby at Mountjoy Prison to bring him to the mail packet at Kingstown.

‘You're a lucky man, Darby,' Swallow said as the police side-car passed by the wide expanse of Sandymount Strand. ‘If I had my way you'd be rotting in Maryborough for the next twenty years. Anyone who takes a knife to a woman shouldn't expect any mercy.'

Darby grinned.

‘Way I 'eard it from one of the screws in that Kilmain'am place, you and the Jew girl are more than just casual acquaintances anyway.'

Swallow wanted to stop the car, take Darby out and kick him up and down the Strand.

‘One more word like that and I'm bringing you back to Mountjoy you little cockney shite. And don't ask me about the charge; I'll think of something.'

There was silence for the next mile or so.

‘Wot 'appened to Teddy?' Darby asked.

‘Same as will probably happen to you,' Swallow said tersely. ‘He got involved with people who were just as ruthless as himself, only smarter and better at it.'

At the Carlisle Pier, he opened Darby's handcuffs. The G-man was watched by the mill of passengers, some of them nodded in silent acknowledgement as Swallow marched his prisoner to the third-class gangway.

‘Get on board,' Swallow said. ‘And if I see your ugly face anywhere in this city again I'll put a fucking bullet through each of your eyes.'

Darby did not answer. He was staring open-mouthed past Swallow to where the first-class passengers were boarding the vessel on a separate gangway. His face registered puzzlement, then recognition of something or someone, then excitement.

He jabbed a pointing finger towards the first-class gangway.

‘It's 'im … fack it. It's the fackin' toff wot set me an' Teddy up to do the robbery … there 'e goes, the facker.'

Swallow turned to follow Darby's line of sight.

He saw Major Kelly on the first-class gangway. Three heavily built members of his posse were around him. In between them, clearly a prisoner although not handcuffed, was George Weldon.

Weldon stared back at Swallow and Darby. Then he grinned and raised his hat in a mocking gesture as he boarded the mail boat.

 

SEVENTY-FIVE

When John Mallon declared he was going to a public house and that he wanted company, it was as rare as the sighting of a white blackbird.

‘Come on,' he inclined his head towards the door. ‘I want to get out of this place for a while. And I'm not drinking on my own. It's too dangerous.'

Swallow was unsure if Mallon was worried about the official consequences of going on a bender, or about compromising his security by going to a public house.

‘Where do you want to go, Chief?'

Mallon had sent his clerk to fetch Swallow from the crime sergeants' office.

‘We're going to the Brazen Head,' he said. ‘At least you can put names on the criminals down there.'

They took a corner of the select bar, partly shielded from curious eyes by a wood and glass partition. Mallon ordered a large Tullamore for Swallow and a Bushmills for himself.

He took his first mouthful of the whiskey.

‘The French have a phrase,
c'est la vie.
That's life.'

There was an edge of bitterness.