“Commander Pitt, my lord,” he announced, and stepped back for Pitt to go inside. This time he left them alone.
Tregarron was standing behind his desk, silhouetted against the late winter sunlight in the window beyond. He turned to face Pitt. His face was shadowed and therefore difficult to read.
“Radley tells me that you have continued to pursue this idea of a potential assassination attempt on Duke Alois. That you seem to be sure there may be something in it.” He said it almost expressionlessly. “He advised me that we should take it seriously, at least insofar as, if there was even a shred of reality behind it, then it could be disastrous in its effect on our reputation, as well as costing a great many British lives. Is this your view?”
“Yes, sir,” Pitt replied, grateful that Jack had put the core of the matter forward so succinctly. “It is a threat we cannot afford to ignore. Even if the attempt is completely abortive, we would look incompetent if we did not act. And worse, the Austrian government might assume that we were indifferent to the situation, or even complicit.”
He was pleased to see the immediate concern in Tregarron’s face, even though it was accompanied by considerable irritation.
“That seems to be rather more decisive than when you first mentioned it to Radley a few days ago,” he observed critically. “Why on earth should any dissident faction in Austria wish to cause such a disaster in order to assassinate a relatively harmless and, may I point out, powerless young minor aristocrat, of no political interest at all? It makes no sense, Pitt. Have you consulted Narraway on this extraordinary idea of yours?”
Pitt felt as if the blood was burning in his face. He hoped Tregarron would not see it. He made a supreme effort to keep his voice calm and level.
“No, I have not. Lord Narraway is no longer privy to the information gathered by Special Branch, and it would be a breach of my oath of discretion to discuss with him such matters as he does not need to know. And as far as political knowledge and judgment of affairs in the Austro-Hungarian Empire are concerned, I am advised that you are the expert, and therefore the appropriate person for me to consult with, sir.”
Tregarron’s mouth tightened. The irritation in his expression was clear as he turned slightly and walked over to the fireplace. He sat down in the large, comfortable chair facing the door, still with his back to the light, and waved for Pitt to sit opposite him.
“Then I suppose you had better tell me the precise evidence that led you to this extraordinary conclusion,” he said, reaching to poke the fire. “Duke Alois is a man of negligible importance in Austrian affairs, let alone European. He is coming here solely because he has a certain charm and Her Majesty apparently likes him-or, to be more precise, likes his mother, who is no longer able to travel. Who on earth would possibly benefit from assassinating him? And I would point out that if anyone did wish to, they have had ample opportunity to do so in his own home, without taking a trainload of innocent people with him.” He stared at Pitt, his heavy eyebrows raised, disbelief written in every line of his face.
Pitt swallowed. The thought came to his mind that Tregarron would not have spoken to Narraway in this tone, but he dismissed it, not as untrue, but as hampering his own ability to deal with Tregarron with confidence. He must not allow comparisons to cripple him. He had weaknesses Narraway did not, but he had strengths too.
He sat a little more comfortably in his chair and crossed his legs.
“If I had the answer to that question, sir, I would not need to ask you for anything more than confirmation of the fact, possibly merely as a courtesy. Duke Alois appears to be a pleasant young man with nothing to commend him except his royal connections. That doesn’t mean he is of no importance at all. Sometimes such men are the perfect pawns for others.”
A shadow crossed Tregarron’s face, but he did not interrupt.
“However, I think it seems likely that he would be a target, not for who he is, but simply because he is available,” Pitt continued. “If he were to be killed while here in England it would be extremely embarrassing to Her Majesty’s government, and there are always those who would find that to their advantage-”
“In Austria?” Tregarron said with open disbelief.
“There is nothing to prove that the plan is specifically Austrian,” Pitt pointed out, seeing the surprise in Tregarron’s eyes with sharp satisfaction. Clearly that thought had not occurred to him. “It could be German, French, Italian, even Russian,” he added. “Our power makes it inevitable that we have many enemies.”
Tregarron leaned a little forward, the whole attitude of his body altering. “Details, Pitt. I am perfectly aware of our position in Europe, and in the world. Most of what you say has always been true. Why now? Why this particular young man? You had better tell me the precise facts and observations that have come to your notice, and leave the interpretation of them to me.”
Pitt remained silent. His mind was racing. The man’s arrogance was breathtaking. He was treating Pitt like some junior policeman reporting a burglary but incapable of seeing it in the context of a larger plan. Narraway would have had a response to wither Tregarron so that he never presumed to override him again in such a way.
But the words, the confidence, even the composure to do so eluded Pitt, and he felt like the gamekeeper’s son he used to be, called up before the master of the house. Except that Sir Arthur Desmond had never treated him with such contempt.
If Pitt refused to offer the details now, it would imply that he did not have them. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer sarcastically that all Special Branch junior staff would report, in writing, to Tregarron, but he dared not. He could not function if he made an open enemy of this man.
With the difficulty of it almost choking him, he replied, “How much detail would you like, sir? There are regular sources up and down the country who give us information, and we have connections in France, Germany, and Austria with relation to this particular event. We have our own people, and we also have relations with the equivalent to Special Branch that most European countries have, in one form or another.” He watched Tregarron’s face and saw a flash of anxiety. Perhaps it was a sudden realization that Pitt was better informed than he had supposed.
“Most of what we hear is merely observation of people we know altering their habits or movements,” he continued. “People they talk to, places they frequent. Such changes can be indicative of planning …”
“Don’t treat me like some policeman in training, Pitt!” Tregarron snapped. “I have neither the desire to become a detective, nor the time. For God’s sake, man, do your job! You are supposed to be commander of the Branch, not some young constable on the beat!”
Pitt clenched his teeth. “I am giving you my opinion based on the evidence, Lord Tregarron. You asked me for the details. They are a collection of small observations made of changes in habit; of people asking unusual questions; new alliances between people who have no known past in common; people spending money for no obvious reason; unusual patterns of travel; information about known dissidents meeting each other and dealing with new people; evidence of guns or dynamite being moved; people disappearing from their usual haunts and turning up elsewhere. Even, on occasion, people dying unexpectedly in accidents or murdered. Do you want me to continue?”
Tregarron’s face was slightly pink. “I wish you to tell me why you think any of this points to the attempted murder of some wretched minor prince of the Austrian Empire while he is traveling on one of our trains on his way to visit our queen. I can’t understand why it is all so plain to you. You seem to expect me to put this man off without any other reason beyond the uncertainty, perhaps the jitters, of our very new head of Special Branch.”
There was a slight curl of contempt on his lip, which he did not bother to hide.
“It looks to me as if you’ve lost your nerve, man!” he went on. “Promoted beyond your ability. I told Narraway that, at the time. You’re an excellent second-in-command-the best. I’ll give you your due. But you are not born or bred to lead! I’m sorry you pushed me into the position where I am obliged to tell you so to your face.” He did not sound sorry as much as simply angry.
“You may be right, sir,” Pitt said stiffly, struggling to get his breath. “On the other hand, Lord Narraway may be. We had both better hope that his assessment of what abilities are required to lead Special Branch is better than yours.” He rose to his feet. “If not, then we can expect some extremely unpleasant consequences, beginning with an assassination in London, a serious embarrassment for Her Majesty, and possibly an icy relationship with the Austro-Hungarian Empire, with a demand for reparations. Good day, sir.”
Tregarron shot to his feet. “How dare you-” He stopped suddenly.
Pitt stood still, his eyes wide, waiting.
