Death on the Lizard Read Free Page B

eager to have a look for himself, and he insists on bringing his wife—a nuisance, of course, but there it is. And where the Royals go, the Press follows. It’s a great opportunity to get the company’s name in the newspapers and cement our relations with the Admiralty—George is Navy, you’ll recall. It won’t hurt the price of shares, either.” He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “But the visit has to go smoothly. We cannot afford another so-called accident.” He paused and looked straight at Charles. “That’s why I thought of you, Sheridan.”
    â€œAh,” Charles said regretfully.
    Marconi’s smile was thin and cool. “Marsden seems to imagine that you are another Sherlock Holmes, my friend. He reports that from time to time you have undertaken investigations for certain individuals, on an unofficial and confidential basis.” The corners of his mouth turned downward and something like distaste came into his voice. “I have told him that this . . . this sleuthing business is a side of you I have not seen, but he insisted on imposing upon you this foolish, ill-considered—”
    â€œDamn it, Marconi,” Bradford exploded angrily, “there is nothing foolish or ill-considered about it! The directors have made it clear that something has to be done, whether you like it or not. If one of these ‘accidents’ should occur when the Prince and Princess are at the station, I can promise you that the company will never recover. You can forget about the Admiralty contract, and any other governmental investment in your wireless.”
    This outburst was followed by a tense silence. Marconi tented his fingers under his chin and stared out the window. He looked like a man held at bay by a savage dog. Bradford got up and went to pour himself another brandy.
    â€œWhat is it you want me to do?” Charles asked, at last.
    â€œGo down to the Lizard with me,” Bradford replied, returning to his seat. “Have a look around. See if you can find out who is behind these acts of sabotage. Is it someone local, or one of the company’s competitors? God knows there are enough of them, and none of them are very particular as to the methods they use to ferret out others’ secrets. Or perhaps there is something else going on—something we don’t understand. Above all, we want you to make damned sure that nothing happens to Prince George and Princess May while they’re at Poldhu.” He took out another cigar and lit it. Between puffs, he added, “It would be splendid if Kate could come, too. May is quite her admirer, you know. Reads all her books, that sort of thing.”
    Charles frowned. “The Prince and Princess will have their usual bodyguards, won’t they?”
    â€œAnd they’ll be the usual careless, incompetent sort,” Bradford replied with a shrug.
    Too true, Charles thought regretfully. After a fiasco or two, the Royal bodyguards had come in for some finger-pointing in the newspapers. He pursed his lips. “And why can’t you ask the Cornwall Constabulary to investigate the sabotage?”
    Marconi, still staring moodily out the window, gave a snort of derision. “The village constable is a fool. The district police are nincompoops.”
    â€œBecause,” Bradford said bluntly, “the information would be bound to leak out, and that would be disastrous. Any suggestion that Marconi Wireless has been targeted in this way will be reported in all the newspapers, and trumpeted with glee around the world.” He shook his head as if he were half in despair—an uncommon gesture for Bradford, who was self-confident to the point of cockiness. “You are a scientist, Charles, and you may think of wireless as a science, engaged in by gentlemen who are all on amicable terms. That might have been true once, but no longer. There’s too much money involved. It’s become a