Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(61)

But on the other hand, what if Pitt were destroyed by this because Daniel was too proud, and too afraid, to trust anyone who perhaps could really help?

‘Pitt!’ Kitteridge said sharply. ‘We can’t fight in the dark. What’s the matter with you, man?’

What should he say? Daniel couldn’t decide. He could not see clearly enough. ‘I’m not sure what Graves wants . . .’ he began.

‘Well, he doesn’t want to hang, I’m bloody sure of that!’ Kitteridge said tartly. ‘Start there, and move on.’

‘Which means he really thinks Special Branch could be behind Ebony’s murder,’ Daniel reasoned.

‘Why should they care enough to go to those lengths to protect the reputation of their leader in the past?’ Kitteridge continued. Then his voice dropped a little and was suddenly gentler. ‘Or is it worse than that? Is he saying your father engineered it? Is it covering up something he was involved in, too? Is that what’s got you pulling your hair out?’

Daniel did not need to admit it. The understanding was in Kitteridge’s face, and surprisingly without judgement.

‘Personal, or Special Branch business?’ Kitteridge asked.

‘Special Branch business. To do with a Portuguese political dissident of some sort, apparently very well connected.’ There was no point in telling less than the truth now. ‘Killed his wife in a fit of rage, and then panicked. Asked my father to get him out of the country. He did, I think because the man knew too much about Special Branch . . . and knew too much to stand trial over here.’

Kitteridge nodded, and then seemed to stop himself before asking anything further, as if understanding that Daniel didn’t know any more. ‘I understand about the political unrest all over Europe. I suppose your father’s got to care about that, when the dissidents land up in London. Damn Graves!’

‘Do you think he’s got anything to do with politics?’ Daniel asked doubtfully.

‘Not a thing,’ Kitteridge replied. ‘He’s all about money.’

‘I think he’s genuinely frightened now,’ Daniel said. ‘I . . . I wish I didn’t, but I honestly think he might not be guilty.’

‘You think it was Special Branch? Really?’

‘No!’

‘Then we’d better prove who it was,’ Kitteridge said earnestly.

‘Can I tell Graves you cannot find any cause for appeal?’

‘Certainly. Looking is a total waste of time. I’d rather try and help you. Save the Empire, what?’

Daniel stiffened, then saw Kitteridge’s face and realised he was teasing him, and also very seriously offering to help. ‘Yes, please,’ he accepted. ‘Find the bloody publisher.’

Daniel went back to the prison and, after the briefest of questioning by the guard, was again permitted to see Graves alone. As they locked the door behind him, he sat down in the chair at the other side of the warped table, and looked at Graves. Daniel had the sudden, awful feeling that he had a glimpse of the corpse he could so soon become.

Hope flared for a second in Graves’ eyes, then he looked at Daniel, and it died again.

Daniel wished that he could have brought better news. He even felt guilty that there was not much pity inside him.

‘What do you want?’ Graves asked. His voice was strained, as if lack of use had left his throat dry.

‘I have looked further into the possibility that someone else is creating evidence against you, as you suggested . . .’ Daniel began.

Suddenly Graves’ body was rigid. ‘Who? Who is it? What proof do you have?’

‘I don’t have proof who it is,’ Daniel answered levelly. ‘But I believe you that it is possible. The reasons are powerful enough to be believable. I will be able to prove more when I know where you got your information for the book on Lord Narraway. I imagine you kept the sources for all, because it might be necessary to consult them again? And you must have been aware that there were those who would try to stop you – up to and including causing your disgrace, and death.’

‘A believer,’ Graves said sarcastically. ‘I’d applaud you – if I weren’t in chains!’

Daniel ignored his tone. ‘Why didn’t you mention it earlier? It would have given us more time.’

‘Because I didn’t kill her! I thought you had enough skill to get me off before the court,’ Graves said accusingly.

‘That was nearly a week ago,’ Daniel snapped.

‘I thought Kitteridge would find some legal loophole. Has fford Croft got up off his arse and done anything? He owes me, and he’s going to walk away and let me hang!’ The hatred was so deep in him, he all but choked on it. ‘You’ve still got two weeks left.’ His look at Daniel was torn between loathing for his mention of having to beg, and the conviction that he was in the right.

Daniel disliked him even more, were it possible. He also believed him more. It was a ragged, powerful feeling inside him.

Was it worth wasting time answering? Probably not.

‘Where did you get your information?’ He went back to the original question. ‘Papers? Letters? Face-to-face interviews? Confessions? You think someone betrayed you? Who?’

‘Start with your own father!’ Graves snarled. He looked straight into Daniel’s eyes and, for a moment, all that was there was hatred.