Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(54)

Daniel felt a mixture of pity for those accused in Graves’ book, guilt that he had told Pitt about it, and the fierce wish that he could do something to help. Mostly he feared that all the certainties in life that made sense, and the values of everything, even his own identity, were beginning to unravel in front of him.

‘I’m sorry . . .’

Pitt jerked his head up. ‘You’d be a damn sight sorrier if you’d said nothing, and passed this case on to someone else. Graves is your client?’

‘Yes . . . but—’

‘No buts. You can repeat nothing you know in confidence that is against his interest,’ Pitt replied. ‘You must investigate this wherever it leads, but if you find out anything that is a threat to the security of the nation, you will tell me. I don’t imagine that will happen. If it does, you may have a conflict of interest. Ask fford Croft, he’ll advise you.’

‘Would it be against the interest of the nation if you were not able to perform your job?’

Pitt’s smile was bleak. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. I hope so. But no doubt there will be those who think it would be in the best interests of the country if I were to be replaced. A few for whom it would be very much in their interest!’ His amusement was self-mocking.

Daniel did not know what to say. He would have given a great deal for this not to be happening, for it to be something else he had to tell Pitt, that his man, at least one of them, had let him down. He stumbled for something to say, but nothing came to him that was honest.

‘There isn’t anything you can do,’ Pitt repeated. ‘Once Graves told you, there was only one thing you could ever have done.’ He took a moment to think. ‘Tell me, what have you learned since then? I ask because I have to find out who could and should have known about this, and why he didn’t. Is it carelessness, or design? Did someone know, and not set it right? And if so, why?’

Daniel could think of nothing useful to say. It was not his fault, and yet he felt as if it were. At every step, he could have paid lip service to the idea of saving Graves from the rope, whether he killed Ebony or not, and he surely deserved to hang!

Except you have to have faith, before you hanged someone, that you were right, at least in fact. The morality of it was not your judgement.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked Pitt.

‘Find out where the information came from,’ Pitt answered. ‘And you are going to help me. I want all the details you can remember of exactly what stories Graves was going to tell. He must have got some details – it’s not a story without them. Tell me. What stories did he tell of Narraway, specifically? Then of Vespasia, something that’s not just gossip that anyone knows? Although the days she was gossiped about are long past. Is it first-hand knowledge or second? And about me? I used to know the dates. I need to know the details.’

‘It’s ugly . . .’ Daniel avoided his father’s eyes.

‘The details!’ Pitt said sharply. ‘If I know the details he has, I can very probably trace it back to the source. The devil of truth is in the details, Daniel. Just what stories do they tell about Narraway?’

Daniel tried to remember exactly what he had seen in Graves’ notes. ‘There was something about a case in Ireland. A man named O’Neill, who was betrayed and died. A woman Narraway seduced, and then betrayed. Someone else who had betrayed Special Branch, and sent you on an abortive trip to France, to Paris.’

‘You sure it was Paris?’

‘Yes.’

‘Interesting. It was Saint Malo, actually. Go on.’

‘Wouldn’t you go to Paris first?’

‘No. Paris is inland, I took a ferry direct to Le Havre, and then to Saint Malo.’

Daniel felt a thin trickle of hope, like winter sunlight. ‘And then there was a case about an addicted young man who shot a bystander and blamed the police, and Narraway told you to get him off.’

‘Interesting details. Did they say how I got him off or why Narraway wanted it?’

‘Narraway wanted to . . . something to do with the boy’s father, who was very important.’ Daniel struggled to remember more, and could not.

‘Get me all you can – copies of Graves’ notes, if possible,’ Pitt told him. ‘The cases are real ones. But the details are wrong. The boy was dying anyway. All I did was get him into a hospital for the last few months of his life, instead of a prison cell and a death in unbearable pain. And as for his father, I’d have seen the swine in hell, with pleasure. But his mother was a good woman. Go on.’

Daniel told him all the rest that he could remember, and promised to bring him more detail as soon as he could.

When he finally stood up to go, his mind was racing with ideas. All the facts he remembered, and any others he could add later, might well help Pitt to lead Daniel to whoever had murdered Ebony Graves and had framed Graves. On orders from someone in Special Branch? And was that person a traitor – or a patriot? Did that depend upon whether Narraway, or Pitt himself, had acted as Graves concluded? Or was that immaterial? And if it had all happened while Pitt was head of Special Branch, did that make it his fault?

Daniel stayed for dinner, even though part of him wanted to leave and think what to do next. First, he must study the material of Graves’ book he had taken back to his lodgings.

But if he didn’t stay, then he would have to explain to his mother why. It would frighten her. And then she would see through it immediately if he tried to look as if nothing were going on. He had learned that at the age of six. She knew him better than he knew himself. It wasn’t completely true now, but the memory was strong, and she could still surprise him at times.