Read Online Angels in the Gloom by Anne Perry - Free Book Online

Reavley’s deaths and Matthew’s belief that there was a conspiracy behind it, but because of John Reavley’s warning, Matthew had not told even his own superior in the Intelligence Services.
    “Well?” Shearing barked.
    Matthew could not tell him that Detta had in one wild explosion of anger let slip her knowledge of the Peacemakers conspiracy. It pounded in his mind as if it could drive out all other thoughts, and he composed his expression with difficulty. One realization flooded out every other. Surely Hannassey had to be the Peacemaker? It was someone who trusted Detta with his life. It could not be Shearing.
    He cleared his throat. He was still standing more or less to attention in front of the desk. “I told her about the smoke bombs in the ships’ holds, sir,” he replied. “And that we have almost traced the money. We just need to turn one of their agents and we’ll be able to close it down.”
    “I see. And how do you propose to convince her that you have done that?” Shearing’s expression was skeptical, his lips tightly compressed.
    “With the information, and an appropriate dead body,” Matthew replied.
    Shearing nodded very slowly, his eyes not leaving Matthew’s face. “Good. When?”
    “Another week at the very least. I have to give it long enough to be believable.”
    “I suppose you know we lost another ship last night? All hands.” Yes, sir.
    “When did you last hear anything from Shanley Corcoran?”
    “Two days ago,” Matthew replied. For just over a year now he had been the link between the Secret Intelligence Service in London and the Scientific Establishment in Cambridge where they were developing an underwater guidance system that would mean that torpedoes and depth charges would no longer randomly hit their targets but would strike every time. It would revolutionize the war at sea. Whoever had such a device would be lethal. No skill or speed would enable an enemy to escape, once they were found. The endless cat-and-mouse games that now meant a skilled and daring commander could outwit pursuit would avail nothing. Judgment of speed, direction, even depth, would be irrelevant. Every missile would strike.
    And of course if the Germans were to have such a weapon, the U-boats now reaping such a terrible harvest would become unstoppable. Britain would be brought to its knees in weeks. The supplies of food and munitions would dry up. There would be no navy to take reinforcements to France, or even to evacuate the wounded, and in the end not even to rescue what remained of the army, beaten because it had no guns, no food, no shells, no medicine, no new men.
    Shearing was waiting for an answer.
    Matthew smiled a little as he gave it. “They are very close to completing it, sir. He said within a week.”
    Shearing’s eyes were wide. “He’s certain?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Shearing eased back a little in his chair. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “Thank God,” he breathed.
    “Then if we don’t have any more lunatic action like the Santa Ysabel massacre, and Pancho Villa doesn’t lose his wits and storm over the Rio Grande, we just might make it. For God’s sake, be careful! Whatever you do, don’t jeopardize the code!”
    “No, sir.”
    Shearing made a small, dismissive gesture, and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
    * * *
    In Marchmont Street in a discreet residential area near the heart of London, the man known as the Peacemaker stood in the upstairs sitting room facing his visitor. He hated war with a passion that consumed every other wish or hunger within him. He had seen the human misery of the Boer War in Africa at the turn of the century, the death and destruction, the concentration camps for civilians, even women and children. He had sworn then that whatever it cost he would do everything within his very considerable power to see that such a thing never happened again.
    The passion of the man opposite was quite different. He was Irish, and the