“How much credit do you give it?” Pitt was interested, but he was well aware that people boasted for many reasons, perhaps to build up their reputations as bad men to cross. It was a part of their image, and their vanity.
“Difficult to check,” Stoker replied. “Couldn’t get a precise date, but I have a guess. Forsbrook took a sudden holiday, and no one saw him at any functions for a couple of months. Told everyone he took a trip to Europe, but I haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”
“Where in Europe did he supposedly go?”
“Somewhere unusual,” Stoker answered with a twisted smile. “Nowhere on the Grand Tour, where he’d expect to be seen. Sofia, or Kiev, or someplace like that. Not going to run into any of your neighbors there.”
“You believe the story?”
Stoker chewed on his lip. “Put it this way: if he raped those two girls-Angeles Castelbranco, and then Alice Townley-it would fit the pattern that he tried it on a prostitute first, and got himself beaten for it. So badly he had to get away from London until he was healed.”
He shifted his weight. “On the other hand, if he didn’t rape either of them, then he could quite genuinely have taken a holiday in Sofia, or anywhere else. We might be able to prove he went to those places, if we dig, but there’s no real way we can prove he didn’t-unless we can show with certainty where he actually was. But I’d give a week’s pay if it turns out his father didn’t cover the tracks so no one’ll find them.”
“Interesting,” Pitt said thoughtfully.
“But of no use,” Stoker pointed out.
“Unless we can find the pimp who allegedly cut him and learn exactly where the scars are.”
Stoker grinned. “Yeah? I can see young Mr. Forsbrook letting us take a good look at the more private parts of his body to verify a pimp’s story!”
Pitt pulled a sour face. “But if it’s true, then it’s undoubtable that Forsbrook fits the pattern of rage and savagery extremely well. Tell me, do you believe it, Stoker?”
Stoker was suddenly grim and very steady. “Yes, sir, actually I do. I talked to quite a lot of people. No one is willing to say much against him. His father’s got a great deal of power in financial circles.”
He chewed his lip uncertainly. “There is a bit of a whisper that Pelham took a pretty hard fall over this Jameson Raid affair. Put more money into it than he can afford to lose. Bit of bad advice, I should think. Reckoned on us annexing the Transvaal.”
“Bad advice?” Pitt questioned. “From whom?”
“Well, you’d have to think you knew something before you risked your shirt on a raid like that, wouldn’t you?” Stoker said reasonably. “Inside information somewhere.”
“Yes,” Pitt agreed. “But that doesn’t excuse Neville Forsbrook of anything, even if it’s true.”
“And it would be difficult to trace Pelham Forsbrook’s dealings,” Stoker said. “A lot of it’s confidential, and there’s no way to judge why he backed one person and not another.”
“You’re right,” Pitt agreed. “It’s a waste of time, and could make us a lot of enemies where we need friends. Just look for anything recent in young Forsbrook’s life that seems odd.”
“There’s nothing Portuguese,” Stoker said straightaway. “Him or his father, I looked at that already.”
“And what about Neville Forsbrook’s income? Is all of it directly from his father? Any inheritance from his mother?”
“Not much, and he doesn’t come into it until he marries,” Stoker said with a shrug. “He’s tried one or two things, a couple of years in the army, but he didn’t take kindly to the discipline. Gave it up. Good leader, not such a good follower.”
“Thank you, Stoker. See what else you can find that’ll tie into rape.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know as soon as you can. Now I have to go and see the Home Secretary.”
“About this?” Stoker was concerned.
Pitt smiled bleakly. “I don’t know. He didn’t inform me.”
Pitt stood on the carpet in front of the Home Secretary’s desk, too angry, and too aware of his own guilt, to do anything but remain at attention.
“The situation in Africa is very delicate, Pitt,” the Home Secretary said irritably. “You can hardly be unaware of the Jameson fiasco, and the massive reparations we are going to have to pay to Kruger and the Boers.” He said it with considerable bitterness, and Pitt could not help wondering if he too had suffered some personal reversal in the disaster.
“Yes, sir, I am aware of that,” Pitt said grimly. “And of Mr. Churchill’s warning that sooner or later, if we are not very careful, we will find ourselves at war with the Boers in Africa, which will include the Cape as well. In my own judgment he is probably correct. I am also aware that feeling is very divided here in England, and many regard Jameson as a hero. We are doing what we can to forestall any violent demonstrations-either for him or against him-but it is largely a police matter of public order.”
“I know it is not Special Branch’s responsibility!” the Home Secretary snapped. “That’s not why you are here. I want to know why the devil are you inquiring into the personal affairs of Pelham Forsbrook. I thought I made it clear in my note to you that the very nasty scandal surrounding the Portuguese Ambassador and his family was to be left alone. What was it about my orders that you failed to understand?”
Explanations raced through Pitt’s mind, but he knew none of them were what the Home Secretary wanted to hear.
“For God’s sake, Pitt!” the Home Secretary went on furiously. “Even Castelbranco himself understands that there is no proof of anything, and irresponsible accusations will serve no one. The poor girl is dead and nothing can bring her back. Let what is left of her reputation be preserved from further speculation, for her parents’ sake, if nothing else.”
He prodded a finger in Pitt’s direction. “You are not a policeman to hound the case to its bitter end, you are head of Her Majesty’s Special Branch! Your concerns are the safety of this nation within its own borders, the catching of anarchists, traitors, enemies of the state and its people. Didn’t Narraway make that clear to you, for heaven’s sake?”
Pitt clenched his hands behind his back, where the Home Secretary could not see them, and let his breath out slowly.
“Yes, sir. Lord Narraway explained my responsibilities in some detail, and the width of my remit, in pursuit of those ends. I believe that an attack on the family of a friendly nation’s ambassador falls very clearly within that realm. We cannot afford the reputation of being a country where foreign women are not safe from rapists. Still less can we appear to be indifferent to such atrocities, as if they were commonplace in London, and we thought nothing of it.”
“Don’t be absurd!” the Home Secretary snapped, his face scarlet. “And offensive. Nobody is dismissing the tragedy, but to say that it is rape is irresponsible. There is only a hysterical girl’s account, totally without proof, that anything at all took place. You cannot and must not slander a man’s reputation with such a suggestion. Not to mention the wretched girl’s. What on earth do you imagine people are saying about her? Have you thought of that?”
Pitt made an intense, almost painful effort to keep his self-control. His body ached. His mouth was dry. “I have made no remarks at all to suggest that Miss Castelbranco was raped, or even assaulted, sir,” he said between his teeth. “Her own church has declined to give her proper rites of burial, on the assumption that she lost her virginity, became with child in an illicit affair, and then intentionally took her own life.” He was unable to stop his voice from shaking. He was angry enough to face down the Queen, never mind a mere Cabinet Minister.
The blood drained from the Home Secretary’s face, leaving him gray. “The matter is tragic indeed,” he said quietly. “But it is not our fault-”
“It is our fault if we do nothing about it,” Pitt cut across him, quite aware of what he was doing. He was past caring for the niceties.
“Slandering Neville Forsbrook’s name will not help.” The Home Secretary was growing angrier as the exchange slipped out of his control. “One injustice does not help another. And if you imagine it will, you are the wrong man to have replaced Narraway. I didn’t like the man, but by God, he had better judgment than this!”
“Actually, sir, my inquiries about Neville Forsbrook’s past behavior had nothing whatever to do with the
