whereas I believe prevention to be preferable to detection.’ Peel had ushered Pyke into a chair just across from him. Up close, his skin was pockmarked and lumpy.
‘I understand you’re asking me to conduct some kind of unofficial or parallel investigation,’ Pyke said, trying in vain to read Peel’s expressionless face. ‘I’m just not sure in what capacity that might be.’
That drew a shrill laugh. ‘If you’ll permit me to speak plainly, I would say that you’re not a fellow who needs, or indeed cares for, official sanction.’
Pyke acknowledged the remark with a nod. ‘And if you’ll permit me to speak plainly, that is the kind of remark I would expect from someone who clearly enjoys such sanction as a matter of course.’
Peel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Allow me to further speculate, then. Perhaps Sir Richard has already asked you to continue with your investigation, regardless of the outcome of this meeting. For some reason, he has been quick to identify this incident as crucial to the continuing survival of Bow Street.’ He looked at Pyke and smiled. ‘You don’t have to respond.’
Behind them, the brooding man entered the room and took up a chair. Peel did not acknowledge him.
‘I didn’t think it was a question.’
‘I stand corrected.’ The smile vanished from Peel’s face. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, and forgive my crude attempts to read your mind, but when you were describing what you found in that room, I got the impression you have already developed a strong attachment to the investigation. Perhaps you will pursue this matter, irrespective of whether or not you are sanctioned to do so.’
‘Perhaps I will.’
‘Then all I am asking is that you keep me informed of your progress. In an unofficial capacity, of course.’
Usually Pyke did not have a problem reading the nuances and inflections of people’s speech and actions. He could tell when someone was lying to him or trying to flatter him, even when those deceptions were dressed up in the most oblique disguises. In this instance, though, he could scarcely begin to decipher the various masks Peel had worn throughout the evening: cold, calculating pragmatist, political statesman, personal confidant. He had heard that Peel was quick-tempered, stubborn, oddly self-conscious and lacking in assurance, but he’d seen none of these characteristics on display. What he had seen was someone who could be a formidable opponent or a useful ally.
‘You are perhaps wondering what advantage this type of arrangement might afford you?’ Peel said, staring at Pyke with an unsettling intensity.
‘It had crossed my mind.’
‘It would not be possible to offer you any financial inducement.’
‘Nor would I expect it.’
‘But if, say, you were to continue with your own investigation, then perhaps as a courtesy to my office, you might share your findings with Charles Hume. Such an arrangement might be beneficial to our shared ambition of finding and being seen to find whoever carried out these abominable acts.’
Pyke digested this request. ‘And if, for any reason, I needed to get in touch with you?’
‘I would expect all of our correspondence to take place through Charles.’
Pyke decided to push the point. ‘But say I had some cause to pass a message to you in person?’
For the first time, Pyke sensed Peel’s unease. Taking his time, Peel motioned towards the dark-haired man who was sitting behind Pyke and said, ‘Let me introduce Fitzroy Tilling. He served under me while I was Chief Secretary in Ireland.’ Pyke turned around to acknowledge Tilling.
‘Let’s just say, should the need arise and should Charles Hume be unable to assist you, you could contact me via Mr Tilling here.’
‘It means you can have it both ways.’ Pyke held Peel’s formidable stare. ‘Find out what I know and keep an eye on me at the same time.’
‘You think me too devious.’ Peel rested his large hands on his desk. ‘I’m going to be blunt with you, Pyke, and you might think me hard for saying this. I am not particularly concerned about the deaths that you’re investigating. I think them abhorrent, of course, but I am compelled to address my attention to a more general set of circumstances. If I am honest, I believe the Irish race to be an inferior one, at a lower stage of development than our own and, therefore, do not intend to alter any course of action already deemed by myself to be in the best interests of this country as a result of a few deaths, whether those who died were Catholics or Protestants. But I am, and have to be, concerned about the implications for public order, and the sooner this business is resolved the better it will be for everyone. I am not afraid to call in the armed forces because I am not afraid of being unpopular, but I see this course of action only as a last resort.’
When Pyke said, ‘It is far better to be feared than loved if you cannot be both,’ he saw the recognition register in Peel’s eyes.
He was about to follow it up with another quote from the same source when the door to Peel’s private office flew open and into the room strode a tall, muscular man, older than Peel by some years, dressed in a red riding coat, a silk cravat and buckskin breeches worn over stockings. He was striking rather than handsome, with grey hair, sideburns, a Roman nose and ear lobes that were as fat and long as half a pear. He limped ever so slightly. ‘The King really is the worst man I have ever had to deal with, the most false and with no redeeming qualities.’
The man still hadn’t noticed Pyke and continued, ‘And have you heard the King’s brother has recently returned from Hanover and is causing untold mischief?’ As he slumped into a chair next to Pyke, the man finally realised Peel was not alone.
That was how Pyke found himself sitting next to the Prime Minister, the grand old duke himself, and he smiled inwardly at the thought of what he could do in that moment. Pyke was not enamoured of the aristocracy, nor did the duke’s battlefield exploits impress him. He did not necessarily like or dislike the man, but simply because the opportunity had presented itself he imagined drawing out his pocket knife and driving it into the duke’s heart.
‘Arthur. Mr Pyke here and I were just discussing the relative merits of Machiavelli’s account of statecraft.’
‘Who? ’ The duke looked at Peel and frowned.
‘Mr Pyke is a Bow Street Runner.
‘Not him, dammit,’ the duke muttered, ignoring Pyke. ‘The other fellow.’
‘A Florentine consort, I believe. He wrote a book called The Prince.’
‘Oh.’ The duke turned back to face Peel and shrugged. ‘Why is this man relevant here?’
‘Machiavelli lived in the early sixteenth century . . .’
‘I’m not stupid, Robert. I meant this chap here,’ the duke said, motioning without enthusiasm at Pyke.
‘Mr Pyke was the man who discovered the bodies in St Giles.’
‘What bodies?’ The duke seemed both confused and annoyed. ‘I’m the Prime Minister and no one tells me a bloody thing.’
Peel looked at Pyke and said, ‘I think the Prime Minister and I need to have a talk . . .’
Pyke stood up and left.
FIVE
Lizzie’s gin palace did not, as the name might suggest, belong to Lizzie Morgan, the woman who occasionally shared Pyke’s bed. Nor did it belong to her father, George Morgan, who had once been a Bow Street Runner and had first initiated Pyke into the ways of earning additional income from the job. The establishment, which occupied a position at the north end of Duke Street, at the back of St Bartholomew’s Hospital and adjoining the livestock market at Smithfield, was owned by Pyke himself - the happy byproduct of a business arrangement that had also led to the capture and imprisonment of a notorious criminal. For a while, after this man’s conviction, his base of operations had remained vacant. Pyke had bought the lease with reward money paid to him by the grateful owner of valuables Pyke had recovered. He had then transformed it into a drinking establishment replete with plate-glass windows and gilt cornices, ornamental parapets, spittoons, gas lights and illuminated advertisements announcing the ‘medicinal’ properties of the gin on sale. Initially George, who had just retired from the Runners, had assumed the day-to-day running of the bar, but a stroke had subsequently confined him to his bed and propelled Lizzie into the limelight.
