The Lazarus Gate (22 page)

Now I was intrigued. The basements of the club were vast, and improbably so. Not only that, but the fact that it had an armoury at all confirmed the status of Apollo Lycea in my mind as a serious agency of the Crown, rather than a firm of clandestine consulting detectives. As we walked the corridors, I observed door after door, some unmarked, and made of studded black iron, but many of polished wood and adorned with small engraved plaques featuring the names of, I presumed, agents of the order. One in particular piqued my interest—it bore the name of A. G. C., Lord Cherleten. I noted it, and moved on.

When we reached one particular metalled door at the end of a corridor, Holdsworth invited me to use my own key to open it. We entered, and the steward turned on the electric lights to illuminate a small room, with half a dozen neat wooden gun racks standing within. There was a large selection of firearms, from shotguns and sporting rifles to heavy pistols and tiny single-shot ladies’ guns.

‘All agents of the order have access to one or more of the weapons lockers,’ Holdsworth explained. ‘If at any time you require assistance, please speak to me. All weapons must be signed for, although you are, of course, free to come and go as you please. Will sir be requiring a weapon today?’ he asked expectantly. ‘I have the necessary dockets.’

I confess that I coveted the guns on display. They were all fine weapons, some brand-new factory models that I had never seen even during my time in the army. All were clean as the day they were bought and obviously well maintained, and I ran my hand along the stock of an American repeating rifle like a boy ogling a bicycle in a toyshop. I had always been a Jack-of-all-trades in the army, and perhaps my lack of specialist expertise had stunted my advancement through the ranks, but if there was one area that I could have excelled in, it was marksmanship.

‘No, Holdsworth,’ I said, with no small measure of self-control. ‘I appreciate you taking the time to show me the armoury, but I will return when my assignment begins.’

‘As you wish, sir. Allow me to escort you upstairs, and perhaps find you a cab?’

We made our way back along the corridor, and I was already longing for a fire and a small brandy. However, we had passed no further than a few yards beyond Lord Cherleten’s office when I heard the door open and close, and a familiar voice call to me.

‘John? Wait up, old boy, I’d like to talk to you.’

I had not expected to see Jim Denny again that night, at so late an hour, and certainly not leaving the office of a man whom I now viewed somewhat unfavourably. In any case, as Jim fell into stride with me and we made our way up the stairs to the lobby, I excused Holdsworth so that we could talk privately.

‘The colonel not with you?’ I asked.

‘No, he went home after the meeting. Lord Cherleten asked to see me. He’s an odd sort, isn’t he?’

‘Never met him.’

‘Really? He speaks quite highly of you.’

I stopped at the top of the stairs, and Jim looked at me quizzically. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Jim… you and I should never have discussed the case. And I’d really rather you hadn’t told anyone about it.’

‘I didn’t mean to get you into any trouble, John. But I was asked directly, and was duty bound. You understand.’

‘Of course. But it was unfortunate; now I fear our friendship is being used for political manoeuvring higher up the ladder, so to speak. I don’t know much about Lord Cherleten, but I’ve heard enough to make me doubt his intentions.’

‘Heard from who?’ Jim asked. ‘Hanlocke?’

‘It’s neither here nor there,’ I replied. ‘Just be on your guard, lest you become a pawn in whatever game he’s playing.’

‘The game, old fellow, is that I’m now like you.’ He drew a small, silver case from his jacket pocket, and presented to me a card from within. What I saw made me tense up.

C
PT
. JAMES B. DENNY
The Apollonian Club
Pall Mall, London

‘Oh, Jim; forgive me, but I don’t like this one bit.’

‘What? That I’m finally in on the secret? Seems to me that you’re never happy, John. We could work together on this, you and I. And that rogue Hanlocke can take his opinion of me and—’

‘No, Jim. We have our own assignments, I’m sure. Unless otherwise informed, we must exercise discretion. I’m sorry… I was wrong to involve you in all this.’ I remembered Sir Toby’s words all too clearly. I couldn’t risk Jim reporting back to Horse Guards, or to Cherleten, until I was sure myself whom I could trust. As Jim’s face hardened, I realised that I wouldn’t have to risk any such thing.

‘I see,’ he said, coldly. He pushed open the doors to the grand hall and went on ahead.

‘Jim—there’s no need to fall out. I just think it’s best that we operate in secrecy for the time being.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, John. I’m sure we’ll see each other presently, in the members bar, perhaps. I’ll bid you goodnight.’

With that, he was off, leaving me alone in the dimly lit hall as the last vestiges of the membership, faces red from overdoing the liquor, shuffled their way outside to their carriages.

As I made my way back to Mrs. Whitinger’s lodging house, the drizzle lightly pattering on the canvas roof of the cab, I was filled with a sense of anticipation, and a strange dread. I was about to embark on the most extraordinary adventure of my life—and to follow in the footsteps of my estimable father—but to do so I would come face to face with my greatest fear. And I would have to do it alone, without the aid of my new friends, it seemed. This would be a great test of my abilities. I prayed I would prove equal to the task, and a worthy successor to the Hardwick name.

O
n Saturday, shortly before dinner, my orders finally arrived from Sir Toby. They were brief and to the point, providing only the essential information, along with the names of my fellow agents and the meeting time and place: tomorrow at Scotland Yard.

There was scant time to prepare myself, which was probably a blessing, as a lack of preconception could only benefit me when negotiating with a man of such fell reputation as this ‘Artist’. My orders were clear—go to the House of Zhengming, speak to the Artist about his alleged involvement with the Othersiders, and extract all the information possible from him, by whatever means necessary. I was to outline in no uncertain terms that the Artist would be expected to conform to Her Majesty’s wishes on a matter of grave importance to the Empire. After what Sir Toby had told me the previous evening, I hoped that such a veiled threat would prove sufficient to loosen the Artist’s tongue, and persuade him that he was no longer immune to prosecution, regardless of what secrets he knew and what hold he had over certain high-up officials.

I had already begun to devour any information I could about the Isle of Dogs. Everything from maps, London guides and newspaper articles held at the British Library, to dockyard records and police reports. Through all my research, I had found no mention of the Artist, or even of the House of Zhengming, although there were plenty of newspaper column inches devoted to the discussion of organised Chinese criminal gangs in and around London’s docklands. The more I read, the more I understood that the Isle of Dogs was a dangerous place. To stray beyond the docks into the heart of that area was to take one’s life into one’s own hands. Even the police could not be guaranteed safety in such a place. And yet it was into that moral sump that I would have to venture if I were ever to find answers to the greatest mystery of our time.

It was nine o’clock when a knock came at my door, and Mrs. Whitinger announced that I had a visitor. Given her somewhat disapproving impression, I needed not be told that it was Ambrose Hanlocke. Despite the low opinion formed of Ambrose by my landlady, his visit was a welcome one, for I was beginning to feel very lonely indeed on the eve of a dangerous rendezvous. Ambrose himself, when he entered, looked very grave, which was so unlike him that I was at once set on edge.

‘Drink?’ I offered, automatically picking up a bottle of cognac.

‘No, not tonight,’ he replied.

At this I knew something was amiss, and so I offered Ambrose a seat and took the chair opposite.

‘I found out about your assignment,’ Ambrose said.

‘Oh?’

‘Not all the agents of the order are as tight-lipped as you and I,’ he replied, forcing a grin. ‘News travels, especially regarding… him.’

‘The Artist?’

Ambrose nodded. ‘Look, John, I had to come and see you. I feel wretched that I can’t come with you tomorrow, but I suppose Sir Toby might have explained?’

‘That a gang of Chinese gangsters would like to see you dead?’

‘Quite. Ordinarily that wouldn’t stop me—lots of people would like to see me dead, I’m sure, and that’s just for my extraordinary good luck at cards. But these fellows are something else entirely. The Artist is dangerous, and not to be trusted. I once had to pose as a go-between for his men, and I know that he commands utter devotion from them. Every man in the Artist’s employ lives in constant fear for his life. The Artist believes himself above the law; if he thinks for a moment that he can get away with killing you, he will.’

‘Good Lord, Ambrose, don’t lay it on so thick, will you?’

‘You need to hear it straight, John, from someone who knows.’ Ambrose stood and started to pace in front of the fire. ‘Sir Toby… well, the old man has your best interests at heart I’m sure, but he’ll only ever tell you just enough so you don’t do anything stupid. Beyond that, he likes to keep a few cards up his sleeve, you know? Trust me when I tell you that there’s hardly anyone—anyone at all—left in Whitehall who hasn’t had some dealing with the Artist. And that means you never know just who has a vested interest in your success, or your failure.’

‘You’re telling me to trust no one.’

‘I’m telling you, John, not to go.’

I looked at my erstwhile companion in disbelief. ‘Not to go? Disobey orders? And then what?’

‘Go to the country. Run away and join the circus. Find a nice young lady to lose yourself in. I don’t know, John, but believe me, if you go to the Isle of Dogs tomorrow, there’s a chance you won’t come back.’

Ambrose was so unlike his usual self that I sat up in my chair and for once took him very seriously indeed.

‘I can’t do that, Ambrose. I don’t believe Sir Toby would send me to my death, so there must be more to it. And besides, I’ll have good men with me. The best Melville can spare, apparently. I have to do my duty.’

Ambrose sighed. ‘Your father’s son…’

‘Steady on!’

‘Look, I didn’t think I’d change your mind, so instead I’ll say this: do not think that a few policemen or soldiers will stay the Artist’s hand. Whatever you do, don’t hold yourself above the man, and don’t antagonise him. Use all your cunning and diplomacy, John, for the Artist is wily and slippery, and utterly beyond redemption.’

I had never seen Ambrose in so earnest a mood, and I could only nod that I understood him. ‘Can you not come along?’ I said, perhaps sounding feeble. ‘Wear a disguise… or hide in the shadows. Do some of that skulking you say you’re so good at.’

He laughed ruefully. ‘I wish it were so easy, John. No, I’m afraid they’ve thought of that—I’ve been given new orders already. I’m leaving the city for a few days, first thing in the morning. You’ll just have to be extra careful without me there to save your skin.’

I tried not to laugh at that, given my sore memory of Ambrose’s disappearing act on Commercial Road.

‘So… is this the end of our partnership? Has Sir Toby decided I no longer need your guidance?

‘I bloody hope not,’ Ambrose smiled. ‘If you make it back alive from the Isle of Dogs you’ll be dead within a month without me looking out for you. Oh, bugger it. Pour us one drink—I should at least toast the condemned man.’

I was not overly happy about Ambrose’s sudden nihilism, but he remained in high spirits for the remainder of the evening, and would not be drawn on the details of his new assignment—nor mine, for that matter. I wondered whether Sir Toby had extended his lecture about discretion to Ambrose, and probably not before time. And so we tried to make light of the situation before Ambrose set to leave, saying that he had to pack for his journey.

‘Stay alive, John. Remember, you’re the last honest man in London—when this is all over, we’ll need men like you to rebuild.’

I frowned quizzically, and Ambrose simply shook my hand, took his hat from the stand and left, whistling as he went down the stairs.

I returned to the fireside with mixed feelings. Whatever we had been through, I had come to associate my official assignments with the shameless gentleman thief; that I would have to brave the Isle of Dogs with strangers by my side, even if they were under my command, was discomfiting. Given Ambrose’s dire warnings, I became gripped by the idea that the mission would be even more dangerous than I had first thought, and so I started to set down on paper all of my knowledge about the case up to that point, so that if anything should happen to me there would be a body of work waiting for my successor. It was a rather morbid task, and when I had finished I had a folio of handwritten notes, police reports, photographs, maps and the tattered pocketbook written in Myanmar. I wrapped the documents up into a parcel and was about to address it to Sir Toby, when I had the most inexplicable feeling; almost a premonition, I suppose. Acting on impulse, I instead made out the address to Captain James Denny of Horse Guards. I was sure that action was tantamount to treason, but I felt that if the order should fail, then perhaps the army should be given its chance. I scribbled a hasty note to Jim to that effect, hoping that Jim’s first loyalty was still to the army rather than Apollo Lycea, and gave the whole bundle to Mrs Whitinger to post should I not return the next day. A prospect I was starting to think was a wholly probable one.