Peril on the Royal Train Read online

  ‘Yes,’ grumbled Leeming. ‘The trouble was that we were sneered at on the front page and the apology was tucked away inside the newspaper. They didn’t even mention that Superintendent McTurk had been dismissed.’

  ‘That’s another incidental bonus,’ noted Colbeck. ‘We got rid of a man who tried to wheedle that reward money out of you by false pretences. I think that the Caledonian will be far better off without him.’

  ‘I’ve already forgotten McTurk,’ said Craig, looking down at some papers on his desk. ‘I’ve got other things to worry about. There’s a whole pile of demands for compensation for goods stolen or damaged in the crash. Sadly, people are much more concerned about their freight than about the three men who died hideous deaths. Then I’ve got an estimate of how much money we lost when the line was blocked. It made my eyes water. There was also a loss of goodwill, of course, but you can’t put a price on that. Financing a railway company is a continuous nightmare. The crash has only made it worse. Never run a railway, gentlemen, unless you want an early grave.’

  ‘You could say the same of the police service, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘It’s full of danger. None of us can count on a long life.’

  ‘Policemen don’t have to cope with the financial burdens of the railway industry. Competition is intense and our rivals are merciless. It was only in recent memory, for instance, that we managed to knock some sense into the heads of those running the Edinburgh and Glasgow. Until then, they were conducting a ruinous price war against us.’

  Colbeck had heard a different version of events. The Scottish shareholders of the two companies had looked on in despair as income slumped as a result of lower fares. In the end, tiring of the state of affairs, the English shareholders of both companies had convened a meeting in London and reached an agreement to work for a common purse for a period of ten years, the Caledonian taking over two-thirds of it. Craig was claiming credit for something forced upon him.

  The general manager snatched up a letter from his desk.

  ‘And here’s another demand from the sabbatarians,’ he went on. ‘Their campaign has taken on fresh impetus. They’ve not only been daubing slogans on our rolling stock, they’ve used their artistry elsewhere.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘There are reports of things being painted on station walls, bridges and above the entrance to tunnels. They’ve even been busy with their spades. Apparently, there’s an embankment near Rutherglen into which they’ve carved SAVE THE SABBATH. They must have worked at night to cut that into the turf.’

  ‘Will it have any effect, sir?’

  ‘None at all,’ said Craig, stiffly, ‘beyond causing lots of annoyance, that is. We can’t entertain the idea of suspending our services on a Sunday. If you’re in business, you’re subject to the laws of supply and demand. Passengers want to travel on the Sabbath. In some cases, it’s the only day when they’re able to do so. If we don’t meet their needs, another railway company will.’

  ‘One has to admire the sabbatarians in a way,’ said Colbeck.

  Craig grimaced. ‘Don’t ask me to applaud their activities.’

  ‘I’m not applauding them, sir. Apart from anything else, they’re trespassing on your property and defacing it with their slogans. But it takes courage to do that. While I don’t hold with religious militancy, I think we should remember that it’s prompted by a commitment to biblical teaching.’

  ‘Where in the Bible does it say that you have to paint your demands on walls or dig up embankments to make your point?’

  ‘Nowhere, sir,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘but the Good Book is full of inspiring stories about people who stay true to their faith even if they’re persecuted for it.’

  ‘The Caledonian is persecuting nobody.’

  ‘But I can see what the inspector means,’ said Leeming. ‘These people are not ordinary criminals. They’re devout Christians. We should remember that.’

  ‘The only thing I remember,’ said Craig with controlled vehemence, ‘is what it costs us to clean up after them. These people are a menace. They need to be caught and convicted before they do something really serious.’

  Tam and Flora Howie were pleased with the way that their new disciple had behaved. Any doubts they had about him had been swept away. Ian Dalton had not only done exactly what was asked of him, he had – overcoming his initial nervousness – found that he had a flair for it. He’d been out with the paintbrush three nights in a row and had decorated pieces of railway property with relish. Even though his nocturnal absences upset his wife, Dalton pressed on. When they finally achieved their objective of stopping trains on the Sabbath, he believed, he would confide in her and she’d be proud of her husband. For the time, however, she was told nothing.

  Over luncheon together, Howie raised the subject of their new recruit.

  ‘I think he’s ready,’ he decided.

  ‘It’s too soon to tell, Tam.’

  ‘You should see him at work. He loves it.’

  ‘But he hasn’t been asked to do anything really dangerous yet.’

  ‘We’re pioneers,’ said Howie. ‘That’s what Ian likes most. Others are following in our wake because they’ve seen what can be done. Someone has left a message on an embankment near Rutherglen, apparently, and station signs have been stolen from Edinburgh and Glasgow. A cross was painted on the windows of carriages belonging to the NBR. People have obviously heard what we’ve been doing to the Caledonian. We’ve started a movement, Flora.’

  ‘The more, the merrier.’

  ‘It’s not really merriment. We’re deadly serious.’

  He speared the last potato with his fork and popped it into his mouth. They ate in silence for a while. A grandfather clock chimed in the hall.

  ‘I must hurry,’ he said. ‘I promised to be back in the office at two.’

  ‘What about Ian Dalton?’

  ‘He’s coming here tonight at the usual time.’

  ‘Do we tell him?’

  ‘Of course – he deserves fair warning.’

  ‘What if we frighten him off?’

  ‘He’s gone too far to pull back now, Flora. My guess is that he’ll jump at the opportunity and we do need him. If we went ahead without Ian, I think he’d be very upset. He’s like us. He’ll want to see the report of it in the newspapers.’

  ‘Publicity certainly helps our cause.’

  ‘It’s been the making of it.’

  ‘Until people know what we’re doing, they can’t copy us. It’s only since they started to write about us in the newspapers that we’ve built up a following.’

  ‘Momentum is vital.’

  ‘That’s why we must keep it up,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll go on shouting at the railway companies until they finally listen to us. It’s a contest between profit and the prophets,’ said Howie, pleased with the phrase that tripped off his tongue and vowing to use it again. ‘They want to make money – a laudable objective for any businessman – and there are six days in which to do it. That’s enough for anybody. Set against the ungodly, there are people like us, who hold with the law of the prophets. We must protect the Sabbath and maintain Christian values in Scotland.’

  ‘When do we strike?’ she asked.

  ‘Very soon.’

  Flora rubbed her hands with glee. ‘I can’t wait.’

  No expense was spared. Since they’d be in a train for over twelve hours, Madeleine and her father travelled first class. Leaving the bustle of Euston station, they went off on a journey that Andrews had taken many times when he worked for the LNWR. It made him highly critical of the driver, complaining that the man should have learnt to ease the train smoothly into a station instead of bringing it to a sudden halt that jolted them out of their seats. Madeleine had brought a book to read and was soon lost in the ordered world of Jane Austen. Though her father had bought a newspaper at the station, he fell asleep before he had time to finish it. The early morning departure that had taxed him somehow refreshed
Madeleine. Dying to be reunited with her husband and to pass on their information to him, she remained fully awake.

  When she took a break from a novel, there was always something interesting to see out of the window. Some of the countryside that scudded past was inspiring to a Londoner trapped in an urban landscape all day. But it was not a continuous story of scenic delight. There was ugliness as well. As on a previous visit, she was revolted at the sight of the thick industrial haze over Birmingham and its environs yet she experienced a thrill of joy when the train stopped – more gently, for once – in the station. It was the city in which Colbeck had proposed to her and where, in its justly famed jewellery quarter, he’d bought her a beautiful engagement ring. She looked down at her left hand to admire it once more, nestling, as it now did, against the solid gold band of her wedding ring. Her father chose that moment to wake up.

  ‘Where are we?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re in Birmingham,’ she replied.

  ‘Is that all? If I was on the footplate, we’d be pulling into Preston.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Father!’

  ‘I know how to get the best out of an engine.’

  When it resumed its journey, the train powered north with occasional stops of longer duration so that passengers could make use of station facilities and buy some refreshments. Because they always had travelling companions, it was impossible for them to discuss the reason that put such urgency into their desire to reach Glasgow. It did not stop Madeleine from thinking about the perceived threat to the lives of the royal family. She hoped that her father had misinterpreted the information about the burglary and that her husband, considering the evidence, would dismiss their fears as groundless. If that were the case, she’d be very relieved and heartened by the fact that she had at least got to see Colbeck and would be able to spend the night with him. Yet she had the unsettling sensation that there was no mistake. She and her father were in possession of evidence about a potential assassination of the Queen.

  After changing trains at Carlisle, they found themselves alone in a compartment at last and were able to talk freely. Andrews, too, had been dwelling on the subject.

  ‘It’s happened before, you know.’

  ‘What has, Father?’

  ‘Attacks on the Queen,’ he told her. ‘The first one was soon after she was married. You were too young to remember it, Maddy. The Queen and Prince Albert were travelling in an open carriage when a young man rushed forward with two pistols. Luckily, he missed with both shots.’

  ‘I remember reading about that somewhere,’ she said.

  ‘He was sentenced to death and should have been hanged but he wasn’t.’

  ‘That’s right. He was declared insane.’

  ‘I think they were insane not to put a rope around his neck,’ he argued. ‘He tried to kill our Queen. If a mad dog mauls a child to death, you don’t spare his life because he was mad at the time he did it.’

  ‘That’s not a fair comparison.’

  ‘It is to me. Then there were some other people who tried to shoot Her Majesty,’ he went on. ‘One of them got very close to her but his gun wasn’t loaded. Even so, he was rightly condemned to death. Then they did it again, the fools. They let him off. Instead of hanging him, they only transported him.’

  ‘I do recall the last time it happened,’ said Madeleine. ‘The Queen was attacked by someone who hit her over the head with a walking stick. It was frightening. He could have dashed out her brains.’

  ‘Yes, Maddy, and the worst of it was that he was a retired soldier. He’d pledged to fight for Queen and Country, not to try to take Her Majesty’s life. There are enemies all round her,’ said Andrews, worriedly. ‘We’ve unmasked the latest one, thank God.’

  ‘We haven’t unmasked anyone. All that we know – or think we know – is that the royal family may be put in jeopardy.’

  ‘I’m certain of it.’

  ‘I keep wishing that you turn out to be wrong.’

  ‘When am I ever wrong?’ he challenged, tapping his chest.

  ‘Lots of times,’ she riposted with a laugh, ‘as you well know.’

  ‘I’d never make a mistake about something this serious. I just wish that I’d heard what Mrs Renwick told you. Her husband should have reached the same conclusion that I did and told someone.’

  ‘I fancy that he was too upset to think clearly. Mrs Renwick said that they were both in a daze. The police came but all they did was to take a statement and look at the safe. They obviously made no connection with the royal family.’

  ‘That’s because they didn’t know about the visit to Balmoral.’

  ‘I wonder what Robert will make of it all.’

  ‘He ought to shake me by the hand and offer me a job as a detective.’

  ‘You’re retired, Father,’ she reminded him, ‘and you’ve earned a rest. You’re too old to join the police force. Besides, people don’t just become detectives. They have to start in uniform as a constable. That means walking through the most dangerous parts of London after dark. How would you like to do that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t, Maddy,’ he confessed.

  ‘In that case, you can’t become a real policeman.’

  ‘Then I’ll be a chief advisor.’

  ‘Make sure you only give advice,’ she warned. ‘Robert is in charge of the investigation. If you try to tell him what to do, he might forget that you’re his father-in-law.’

  ‘But I’m an important witness here.’

  ‘All that you have is a theory.’

  ‘It’s much more than that. I once drove the royal train, remember.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and I was very proud of you for doing so. But all you did was to take it to Carlisle. You didn’t leave London in the knowledge that the passengers were in mortal danger.’

  The move to the Strathallan Hotel was a success in a number of ways. It was much closer to the headquarters of the Caledonian, it was less expensive and therefore appealing to Nairn Craig and it relieved Victor Leeming of his feelings of inferiority. The Strathallan was perfectly comfortable but it had none of the sumptuousness of The Angel Hotel. It had been Colbeck’s idea to move. When Leeming came down from his room, the inspector was waiting in the lounge.

  ‘What do you think, Victor?’ he asked.

  ‘I think I’ll be able to sleep properly at last.’

  ‘The beds at the Angel were wonderfully soft.’

  ‘That was the trouble with them, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘I was almost too afraid to get into mine at night in case I creased those crisp white bed sheets. This place is much more suitable.’

  ‘Mr Craig was happy for us to move. It saves the company money and he’ll embrace anything that does that. Putting us into the Angel was his way of showing what faith he had in us,’ said Colbeck. ‘It was our reward for solving the case. He expected us to do that within days.’

  ‘We’ll be lucky to do it in months,’ wailed Leeming.

  ‘We’ve made more headway than you imagine.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, sir.’

  ‘You’ve learnt a great deal about the geography of Glasgow and I’ve had a fascinating lesson about the character of Scottish railways – red in tooth and claw. Mr Craig is agreeable enough as a person but I don’t doubt that he’d be as ready as any other general manager – Mr Weir of the NBR, for example – to adopt underhand methods to gain an advantage over his rivals.’

  ‘They’re all as bad as each other, sir.’

  ‘That’s inescapably true,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the fact remains that we’ve been retained by the Caledonian and we must do our utmost on its behalf.’

  ‘What’s the next step?’

  ‘I’ve already taken it, Victor.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘While you were moving into this hotel, I went to see Inspector Rae. I wanted more details about the theft of the gunpowder from a barracks. He told me something very interesting.’

  ‘What was that, sir?’

&n
bsp; ‘A substantial amount was stolen – far more than was needed to cause the explosion on the Caledonian.’

  ‘So someone somewhere still has the means to do it all over again.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Have you told Mr Craig to be prepared?’

  ‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘I didn’t wish to push him even closer to a heart attack. In any case, there’s no indication that the Caledonian is under threat. With that amount of gunpowder in their possession, the villains could have caused a much bigger explosion and blocked the line for a week. Yet they picked a time and place when a goods train was due. The consequences were deliberately limited.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call the death of three railwaymen a limited result, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘And think how much freight was ruined. Well, you saw the site of the crash. It was like a battlefield after the fighting was over.’

  ‘But supposing it had been a passenger train.’

  ‘Then there’d have been hundreds of dead or badly wounded victims.’

  ‘Yet there weren’t,’ said Colbeck. ‘That’s very singular.’

  Leeming was bewildered. ‘Are you trying to tell me that the people behind this outrage had consciences, after all?’ he asked. ‘They settled for killing three people when they could actually have murdered a large number?’

  ‘No, Victor, they don’t have a shred of sympathy for the loss of human life. They did exactly what they set out to do and that was to strike a telling blow at the Caledonian. But that’s all they did. Horrific as the scene of the disaster was, however,’ said Colbeck, ‘it was much smaller in scale than it could have been. They caused havoc when they could have inflicted utter devastation.’

  ‘What conclusion do you draw from that, sir?’

  ‘I’m not entirely certain, Victor.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been completely baffled from the start. My guess is that we’ll never catch these villains. They’ve disappeared without trace.’

  Colbeck was confident. ‘Oh, they’ll be back one day.’