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They were in the parlor where the chairs were comfortable. The door was closed, so the murmur of their voices would not waken Scuff.
“Are you satisfied it was this man, Sabri, who ignited the dynamite and then jumped off the deck before the explosion?” Hester asked gravely. “He was taking a terrible risk, wasn’t he? Most of the people who get into the Thames don’t get out. Even if they don’t drown, the filth in the water poisons them.”
“He must have been paid a very great deal,” Monk reasoned.
She frowned. “Do you think that’s all it was: simple greed? He didn’t do it alone, did he?”
“No. But other than possibly Beshara, we have no idea who else could be involved.”
She gave a deep sigh and her face pinched with a sad understanding. “Then we don’t have much chance, do we?”
“Actually, what I really want,” Monk went on, “is to find the people behind this, who may not know anything about the actual explosion, but compromised our system of justice by lying, suborning lies, overlooking things, all the accumulated concealment that made it so easy for an innocent man to be condemned to death.”
He saw her draw in breath. “I know he wasn’t innocent altogether,” he said quickly. “But that isn’t the point. He would have been hanged just the same if he’d been charming and not involved at all. We got the wrong man! If it could happen to Beshara, then it could happen to anyone! You. Me.” He bit his lip. “Scuff …”
She was pale now, shaken. “All right. I see. Yes. It’s far bigger than just getting Sabri instead of Beshara. What do you need to do?” She did not say “we,” but he knew she meant it.
“Find out how all these mistakes happened,” he replied. “But more than that, find out who was behind it. Who, at best, allowed it to happen.”
“And at worst?” she asked.
“Who applied the pressure,” he replied. “Who took the case from us and gave it to Lydiate. Find out who is behind Ossett, pressuring him! And how, with what?” He told her what Lydiate had said about his appointment, and the implication that his sister would suffer were he to conduct himself without the required discretion.
She said nothing, but her face reflected her disgust, and the pity he would have expected of her.
“I need to know who was behind that,” he went on. “It was Ossett who spoke to Lydiate, but where did the suggestion come from before that? What has Ossett to gain or lose? So far I see no connection. He has no money in shipping, or in the Middle East; I did check on that. He comes from an excellent family with a history of serving the country in many places, all the way back to Waterloo.”
“Could it be someone else pressuring him?” she asked. “Family? An old debt or obligation?”
“It could. But what about all the others? Why did they twist, misinform? There’s no one answer I can find that explains them all.”
“Perhaps there isn’t one,” she said, thinking slowly as she found the words. “Maybe they each had different reasons? Sometimes we make mistakes, and then are afraid to admit them, and just dig ourselves further in. Sometimes we fear other people’s opinions.”
“So, based on pride and error, we hang an innocent man,” Monk said grimly, appalled at his own words. “And now we have either to unravel the whole thing, or compound it and make it worse. I can give the ordinary witnesses to Orme and Hooper, but I have to look at people like Ossett myself.”
“And the lawyers,” Hester added. “They may have started out simply taking the briefs they were given, and doing what they thought best, with possibly a little ambition or self-interest thrown in. But what about now, when it’s questioned and all the little details are thrown in? What about the things they overlooked, or chose to ignore, the small instances of selfishness that add up to a major error, when they’re all piled on top of each other?”
“I know. I’ll start with Lydiate. I’ll go and see him tomorrow. If I can get him to help, it will be a place to start. But it’s the River Police’s case now, and he can wash his hands of it if he wants to.”
“No, he can’t,” she said quickly. “Not if he wants to keep the respect he needs in order to do his job. Unless he’s a complete coward, he’ll help. I’m far more afraid you’ll get little from the lawyers. But Oliver will help Brancaster. He’s longing for a good, tough fight.” There was laughter on her mouth and sadness in her eyes. “He’ll have a hard one here, all the struggle he wants …”
“I know,” Monk agreed. “I’ll do whatever I can. I’ve got some idea of how much it matters.”
She smiled at him, and stifled a yawn.
LYDIATE RECEIVED MONK THE following morning as if he had been expecting him; in fact he was more than prepared. He looked tired, rather like a man with an aching tooth who finally faces the dentist.
“Yes,” he agreed when Monk put the situation to him. “Of course. The truth, whatever it is, will have to come out in court. There’ll never be an end to it if it doesn’t. I don’t know how deep it goes.” That was an admission, and he said it with shame. But along with that pain Monk saw a rising anger in him. He had been manipulated, and he was beginning to realize just how deeply.
“It’s going to be difficult,” he said, facing Monk across his very handsome desk, which was much more ornate than Monk’s, but almost as untidy. “Many of the people concerned are very powerful and they are going to resent any of their actions being questioned.”
“Of course,” Monk nodded. “And the more dubious they are, the more crucial to the investigation, and the more they will resent it. I’m sorry
. I wish it wasn’t necessary, but it is. It goes to the core of justice for anyone.”
“I understand that!” There was a momentary sharpness to Lydiate’s voice. “To allow a guilty man to escape is to connive at his crimes, but to cause an innocent man to be hanged is an offence against humanity … for all I know, against God. It can’t be overlooked.”
“No one could have put it more succinctly,” Monk said with a degree of respect. “But they will come up with excuses. Public pressure. Public good. Diplomatic necessity. Things too important and secret to be revealed—where in reality it is fear, greed, loyalty, or sheer stupidity. One mistake to cover another.”
