The Thieves' Labyrinth (Albert Newsome 3) Read Free Page B

roses could
mask their stench. Ratcliff-highway alone kept the undertakers of the east busy, whether from natural or unnatural deaths.
    One learned, of course, after time and whether one wanted to or not, to read the river: the slim difference at one hundred yards between a Dutch eel boat and a Hastings smack; the ochre sail of
a distant barge compared to the startling salt-starched white of the returning whaler; the loaded boats low in the water and the unloaded waiting for their ballast; the leaning yards and looped
canvas of the ship long in port, or the oakum scent of the vessel heading outwards newly supplied with rope. In that sense, and to an ex-beat policeman, it held at least some similarity with the
streets. It was a vast, singular street to belittle all others – the oldest, the busiest and the most dangerous in London.
    For their part, the constables of the Thames Police did not dare ask why this eminent detective had so recently and inexplicably adopted the uniform once more to come among their number –
particularly as he did so with such obvious reluctance. True, they gossiped as constables will about an alleged scandal, about a criminal’s death in custody or an altercation between
Inspector Newsome and the Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Richard Mayne – but none could agree on the truth.
    In fact, if we were to follow the inspector’s history back a number of months, we would have found him in Sir Richard’s office at Scotland Yard, facing once again the stern glare of
the commissioner’s intelligent eyes over the top of that broad desk.
    ‘So, Inspector – what punishment are you to face?’
    ‘Sir Richard – I feel I must deny all knowledge of this ledger that you say you found in my office.’
    ‘I do not say I found it. I found it. And I will have no more of that insolent tone. I would be quite justified in ejecting you from the force in ignominy for what you have
done.’
    ‘Sir – if, for the sake of discussion, I had compiled a secret catalogue of the vices of London’s eminent people . . .’
    ‘Dispense with your conditional clause, Inspector. Your grammar cannot exculpate you.’
    ‘Justice was the sole spur to my action, sir. I sought neither personal advantage nor salacious entertainment.’
    ‘That may be, but you have disgraced the Force with your actions. It is not just the ledger, but also your handling of this recent case. You have let others get the better of you. If your
behaviour were known outside this office, you would now be on the street: a common citizen. As it is, you are a senior policeman with an illustrious – if tarnished – record dating back
to our very beginnings.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘Nevertheless, you must not escape punishment. As of this moment, you are no longer a member of the Detective Force—’
    ‘Sir! I must protes—’
    ‘I say you are not a detective! Tomorrow you take up a position with the same rank in the Thames Police. You will supervise two constables in a galley in the Upper Pool and you will work
with your new colleagues to limit petty smuggling and river infractions wherever you may see them.’
    ‘I believe I would rather be a citizen.’
    ‘Enough of your petulance. It is that sort of attitude to authority that has brought you to this. I expected gratefulness for your unimpaired rank, but I see I am entirely correct in my
course of action. Do you have anything further to add?’
    ‘No . . . Yes, I do. Under what circumstances could I earn again my position in the Detective Force?’
    ‘Finally, a question worthy of your character. I will say only this: your position remains open. When you have demonstrated to me once more that you are the man to fill it – when you
show me the virtues of a righteous and true investigator – then you will return. And only then. I believe there will be ample opportunities on the river. Now – make yourself known at
the Wapping Police Office tomorrow at six o’clock.