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Authors: Lloyd Shepherd
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Harriott scowled at him and at the word
officers
, and Burroughs spoke
with a certain tightness of expression that indicated he knew he was being scowled at. ‘I am happy for this to occur, but would warn Harriott that this is highly irregular. He has no
jurisdiction in this area, and it is somewhat unusual for him to be accompanied by a constable who asks questions in this way.’
‘We are not investigating anyone,’ Horton said, and the other men looked at him once again, and then looked at Harriott.
Are you going to allow a subaltern to lead this
conversation?
said their faces. Harriott glared back and said nothing. Horton took this as permission to continue. ‘The murders took place in Shadwell’s district, but we are
cooperating with Mr Markland and his fellow magistrates.’
‘Why?’ The question was Burroughs’s. ‘Are the Shadwell constables incompetent?’
‘Horton is unique,’ said Harriott, speaking directly to Ferguson as if seeking an ally in the room. ‘He has involved himself in several major cases, all of which have been
resolved.’
‘Benjamin Johnson was killed, along with his family, at some point over the last four days,’ said Horton. ‘The murders were intense and savage and, at first glance,
motiveless.’
‘Like the last Highway murders, then,’ said Burroughs. ‘Did you bury the wrong man, constable?’
‘If you refer to John Williams, Mr Burroughs, it was the Shadwell magistrates who interrogated him. Not I. And he was never charged with the killings.’
‘Then you don’t believe he did it? And the killer may still be at large?’
‘I said no such thing.’
‘You implied it.’
‘There are indeed aspects of the case which bear resemblances to the 1811 murders on the Ratcliffe Highway, as you have no doubt read in the press. We are of course seeking to ascertain
whether there may be other connections. It may be, as Mr Burroughs says, that the Highway killer has returned.’
Harriott snorted at that, and was about to say something, but Horton talked over him. This did nothing to endear him to the enemies he had made in the room.
‘Whoever was responsible, we need to establish why Johnson was killed. What was the motivation behind it?’
‘And you think the answer to that question may lie within this building?’ said Burroughs.
‘Perhaps. We are simply seeking to establish whether that might be the case or not. It is, you will admit, an obvious place to look.’
‘I will admit nothing, constable, and if I may, your tone is impertinent.’
‘Horton is only doing his job,’ said Harriott, dangerously. ‘And you seem oddly determined to prevent him, sir. Is there some reason for that?’
‘The Company can look after its own matters,’ Burroughs said, directly to Harriott. ‘If you wish to find out more about Johnson, we will do it for you.’
‘It would be better if you would allow us . . .’ said Horton, but was interrupted by the smiling Ferguson.
‘We do wish to assist you,’ he said, to Horton. ‘Mr Burroughs is quite understandably exercised by your presence here. We do not have many dealings with the criminal
authorities. We have our own men to act as police. We deal with matters which are of enormous sensitivity. Secrecy is essential if our operations are to be maintained. It is a matter of the
national interest.’
‘I fail to see how Benjamin Johnson’s death impinges on the national interest,’ said Harriott.
‘Indeed, so do I,’ said Ferguson, cheerfully. ‘But we have to be careful. If I give you free rein to storm around the Company asking questions, who knows what you will
discover?’
Who indeed?
thought Horton.
‘We shall proceed like this,’ said Ferguson. ‘Putnam will accompany Horton to the office in which poor Johnson worked. Horton can take a look at his desk and ask some questions
of those who sat near him. In the presence of Putnam, of course. If those questions, in Putnam’s judgement, veer towards
officers
, and Burroughs spoke
with a certain tightness of expression that indicated he knew he was being scowled at. ‘I am happy for this to occur, but would warn Harriott that this is highly irregular. He has no
jurisdiction in this area, and it is somewhat unusual for him to be accompanied by a constable who asks questions in this way.’
‘We are not investigating anyone,’ Horton said, and the other men looked at him once again, and then looked at Harriott.
Are you going to allow a subaltern to lead this
conversation?
said their faces. Harriott glared back and said nothing. Horton took this as permission to continue. ‘The murders took place in Shadwell’s district, but we are
cooperating with Mr Markland and his fellow magistrates.’
‘Why?’ The question was Burroughs’s. ‘Are the Shadwell constables incompetent?’
‘Horton is unique,’ said Harriott, speaking directly to Ferguson as if seeking an ally in the room. ‘He has involved himself in several major cases, all of which have been
resolved.’
‘Benjamin Johnson was killed, along with his family, at some point over the last four days,’ said Horton. ‘The murders were intense and savage and, at first glance,
motiveless.’
‘Like the last Highway murders, then,’ said Burroughs. ‘Did you bury the wrong man, constable?’
‘If you refer to John Williams, Mr Burroughs, it was the Shadwell magistrates who interrogated him. Not I. And he was never charged with the killings.’
‘Then you don’t believe he did it? And the killer may still be at large?’
‘I said no such thing.’
‘You implied it.’
‘There are indeed aspects of the case which bear resemblances to the 1811 murders on the Ratcliffe Highway, as you have no doubt read in the press. We are of course seeking to ascertain
whether there may be other connections. It may be, as Mr Burroughs says, that the Highway killer has returned.’
Harriott snorted at that, and was about to say something, but Horton talked over him. This did nothing to endear him to the enemies he had made in the room.
‘Whoever was responsible, we need to establish why Johnson was killed. What was the motivation behind it?’
‘And you think the answer to that question may lie within this building?’ said Burroughs.
‘Perhaps. We are simply seeking to establish whether that might be the case or not. It is, you will admit, an obvious place to look.’
‘I will admit nothing, constable, and if I may, your tone is impertinent.’
‘Horton is only doing his job,’ said Harriott, dangerously. ‘And you seem oddly determined to prevent him, sir. Is there some reason for that?’
‘The Company can look after its own matters,’ Burroughs said, directly to Harriott. ‘If you wish to find out more about Johnson, we will do it for you.’
‘It would be better if you would allow us . . .’ said Horton, but was interrupted by the smiling Ferguson.
‘We do wish to assist you,’ he said, to Horton. ‘Mr Burroughs is quite understandably exercised by your presence here. We do not have many dealings with the criminal
authorities. We have our own men to act as police. We deal with matters which are of enormous sensitivity. Secrecy is essential if our operations are to be maintained. It is a matter of the
national interest.’
‘I fail to see how Benjamin Johnson’s death impinges on the national interest,’ said Harriott.
‘Indeed, so do I,’ said Ferguson, cheerfully. ‘But we have to be careful. If I give you free rein to storm around the Company asking questions, who knows what you will
discover?’
Who indeed?
thought Horton.
‘We shall proceed like this,’ said Ferguson. ‘Putnam will accompany Horton to the office in which poor Johnson worked. Horton can take a look at his desk and ask some questions
of those who sat near him. In the presence of Putnam, of course. If those questions, in Putnam’s judgement, veer towards
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