understand me. So I am forced to steer clear of the professor, even though I personally believe that he is above suspicion, and that his unusual methods might cast light on this case. And I’d be glad of light – any light. Because this is beyond question the most baffling I’ve ever dealt with – but also, the most important. I am not understating it when I say that the future of Europe may depend on us solving this case.”
In my mind I’m making connections. I know what the Inspector is going to say next. So I say it for him.
“Colette Morgan.”
He doesn’t seem surprised. “The professor, I guess, will have told you that name. Like all my colleagues, I have never met Miss Morgan: she works undercover, in the United States. But we have received valuable intelligence from her over a number of years, via the United States Secret Service, and latterly the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She works independently, using her own methods in order to supply information to the American security services. To keep them informed about the activities of people who threaten the safety of civil society and democracy, both in America and in Britain.”
“I’m aware that so-called security services in both Britain and America gather information about many people. For example, they gather information about people I personally admire: members of the suffragette movement. You use the word ‘democracy’ lightly, Inspector, even though you probably regard women protesting for the right to vote as a ‘threat to safety’.”
Some cheers break out among the voices coming from the General Room next door. Then, I hear someone call out to the whole room, as if introducing an act onto the stage, but the words are muffled. There’s another round of cheering: the performer being introduced to the assembled passengers must be very popular.
“My job, Miss Frocester, is not to judge the moral rights and wrongs of the threats, merely the level of risk that they pose. But this matter has nothing to do with the suffragette movement. However, it does relate to a different crisis that the British government currently faces.”
I hear a strong, fine tenor voice start up in the General Room.
“When boyhood’s fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland, long a province, be
A nation once again!”
Through the wall, I hear the passion behind the lyrics as an almost physical sensation. The singer’s voice is flooded with feeling, and at each chorus his tones rise to an emotional crescendo. Then I hear the entire audience joining in with the final reprise of the refrain, the mingled voices of men, women and children. The song comes to an end with a fervored cheer, shouts of approval, the thump of feet on the floorboards and the pounding of fists on tables. I glance at the Inspector, and there is understanding between us.
“Yes, Miss Frocester. The conspiracy that Colette Morgan infiltrated involves citizens of the United States who will never forget the land of their birth. Residents of New York and other American cities, who are working – illegally – for the independence of Ireland from the British Empire.”
“And as with women’s suffrage, is that so wrong? You and I both heard the song – and the audience’s response. A fairly typical response, I’d guess. Most Irish men and women would like to throw off the yoke of British government. Including those who have been forced through poverty to leave their native country to emigrate to America. British rule in Ireland has been shameful. And Irish emigrants’ homeland is no less dear to them, even if they have been forced to leave it. I’d say that Irish-Americans have good reason to work for Irish independence.”
“Morally, I can’t disagree with you. But practically, there are proper ways and means. Ireland may indeed achieve independence, but it will be a delicate, longwinded process of negotiation, done in government offices and meeting-rooms by politicians, civil servants and lawyers. That process is too slow for many in Ireland. Some of them want to take action into their own hands. They believe that the only way to achieve their aims is to bring terror to the streets of Dublin. Or, better still, London.”
“A terrorist attack?”
“ Yes. Some kind of terror attack, on a scale never seen before. We don’t know what form it will take. But the conspiracy to carry out this attack is tangled up with Percy Spence’s murder.
You see, Miss Frocester, there are, walking the streets of English cities, two unseen groups of people: Irish revolutionaries and German spies. What if they were to work together? They are utterly different but with the same aim: both groups would be delighted to see a terrorist attack on London, and chaos across the British Isles. If the reports that Colette Morgan, for example, used to send us are to be believed, the plotters’ tentacles reach very far – and, they are poised to strike.”
“Used to send you. You mean, she’s stopped communicating?”
“No, she still sends reports. But while the Federal Bureau of Investigation continue to pass Colette’s reports over to us, they have warned us that they may no longer be reliable. To be plain: many at the Bureau suspect that she has joined the plotters. They think that she now sends the Bureau not information, but misinformation, to deliberately cause confusion. And, to be absolutely honest with you, Agnes, I have personally no idea at all whether Colette’s intelligence is true, or whether it’s a pack of lies.”
“This Federal Bureau organization that you speak of – why do they suspect her?”
“I think she has been involved with one activist in particular, a Mr Nolan. Those at the Bureau who still trust Colette say that she has rightly focused on him, because he is by far the most powerful and dangerous supporter of the Irish terror plot. And they do have a point, because Nolan’s criminal connections extend right across New York: he is, as it were, a king among gangsters. But those who don’t believe Colette – they say that she has become Nolan’s mistress, and that she now serves him, not us. That point of view also makes sense: what better way for Nolan to outwit us, than to deliberately send us misleading information via one of our own agents? So both theories about Colette Morgan are plausible. I don’t know which is true.”
Several men enter the smoking room. They’re in good spirits: I hear their Irish accents, joking with each other. But I feel that a cloud of suspicion has descended across everyone I see.
“Why are you telling me all these secrets, Inspector, if I can’t use them? If I can’t speak of them to the professor or anyone?”
“I didn’t say that, Miss Frocester. It is only Professor Axelson who must not be involved. I did not say that you could not tell another gentleman. A prominent gentleman.”
Another penny drops. “So I can tell Chisholm, then?”
“You understand my meaning perfectly. As you know, he holds a position of some responsibility at the Home Office. So he may be in a position to do something. In fact, I would be really grateful if you could let him know that I and Scotland Yard are seriously investigating this case. Ideally, I would seek him out myself. I have to travel to New York anyway, but then I received intelligence that the three of you were all travelling on this sailing of the Olympic. So I hoped to speak to Chisholm on the voyage, so that we could share information. I planned to go and talk to him on the first day of the voyage. But I haven’t. Because since boarding the ship, I know that I am being watched.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know. It is just a feeling – a feeling of someone behind my back. I’ve had that feeling before, many times, in my investigations over the years. A sense of presence, something behind my shoulder. But whoever this person is, he is more skilled that any other criminal or spy that I’ve dealt with during my career. I turn, I look – but I never see anyone. Just a crowd of people, going about their own business and enjoying the voyage. But I know that this person is there, and because of him, I’ve avoided making my presence known to Sir Chisholm. A prominent and trusted member of society – and, of course, he is employed at the Home
Office. So it’s possible that foreign agents are watching Sir Chisholm, too. I cannot afford to be seen communicating directly with him. But you can, Miss Frocester. Speak to him. I trust you with this.”
“Thank you.”
“I was sounding you out, of course, that night that Kitty disappeared. And then, I was pleased to hear that Chisholm, the professor and yourself were taking this voyage and picking up your investigations in America, because that is where I also am going, in order to seek the answers to this puzzle. The mystery of Percy Spence’s murder aboard the Titanic, Miss Agnes, it is like a photograph or a drawing, torn in two. You, Chisholm and the professor are finding out about one half. I am finding out about the other. When we can put the two halves together, we will solve the mystery.”
“What you mean is, Inspector, you’d prefer to talk to Chisholm, but you dare not approach him, so you’ve had to settle for second best. Me.” I give him a lopsided smile, to show him I’m joking.
“Well, that’s one way of putting it! But joking aside, Miss Frocester, you could look at it from another angle. I’m placing great trust in you.”
“I can see that. Thank you.”
“When I saw you walking alone on the third-class Promenade Deck this morning, I saw my chance. There was no-one suspicious about. For the