“My investigation, Your Majesty?”
“Do not patronise me, policeman.”
So, thought Newbury, she does call him that to his face.
“The bodies found with their hearts removed, of course.”
“Little progress as yet, I fear, Your Majesty,” replied Bainbridge, his tone altering slightly, becoming more clipped, more restrained. “There are few leads, and we have yet to ascertain the significance of the stolen organs. We are concerned there may be some occult significance to the deaths. I have asked Sir Maurice to assist with the investigation for that reason.”
The Queen’s eyes glittered as she glanced from one of them to the other. They settled on Bainbridge. “Very good. There may be political significance to the deaths. This is a line of inquiry we urge you to explore.”
“A political motivation, Your Majesty?” asked Bainbridge, his exasperation barely concealed.
“Indeed so. At first we assumed it was a coincidence, but it has since become clear that a coincidence is unlikely. All four of the victims have been agents of the Crown.”
“All four?” echoed Bainbridge. “Your Majesty, there have only been three reported deaths that match the modus operandi of the killer.”
Victoria emitted a wet, rasping cackle. “Quite so, Sir Charles. The fourth victim was killed while sequestered for an … operation. Due to the nature of that operation, it was paramount that the corpse was removed from the scene and swiftly disposed of. We cannot have everyone knowing our private business.”
Newbury silently considered the Queen’s words. This changed everything. If the victims were all, in fact, agents of the Crown, then a motive had suddenly appeared. It didn’t explain the strange manner of the deaths or the significance of their splayed chests or stolen organs, but it was clearly the link that they were looking for. Once again, Newbury found himself astounded by this woman. He’d worked closely with her for a number of years now, but still had no real notion just how extensive her network of agents was. She was a master manipulator, a matriarchal spider at the heart of her vast and intricate web, guiding her myriad operatives throughout the Empire.
“I fear this puts an entirely different complexion on the situation, Your Majesty,” said Newbury. “Were the dead agents all engaged in the same operation? Or could their murders have been revenge for past endeavours?”
Victoria turned her head slowly to regard him. Her eyes narrowed. “None of the agents knew each other, if that is what you’re asking, Newbury. And no, they had never been engaged against a common foe, simultaneously or otherwise.”
“Then they may have been killed simply because of their status as your operatives,” said Bainbridge.
“Quite,” intoned the Queen, huskily. “You should tread carefully,” she continued. “It may be that the two of you are also at risk.”
Was this another veiled threat? Newbury didn’t think so. The Queen seemed genuinely threatened by this assassin who was intent on relieving her of her agents. For once, she appeared not to be playing games.
“We are not alone in this,” said Bainbridge, quietly. “It seems as if all of your agents are at risk. Unless you have reason to suspect that we or others may be favoured as targets?” Victoria shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “Then perhaps, Your Majesty, you might have Sandford provide us with a list of possible targets? I can have my men work to safeguard them.”
The Queen let out another almighty cackle that threatened to break into a heaving cough. “Sir Charles, you test our patience. We could not trust even you with that. A list of all our agents? If it fell into the wrong hands…”
“With respect, Your Majesty,” said Bainbridge, shortly, “it sounds as if it already has.”
“Watch your words, policeman. You would do well to remember that you are far from irreplaceable.” The bellows on the back of Victoria’s chair concertinaed noisily in tandem with her rising anger.
“Then could it perhaps be a rogue such as Aubrey Knox? A former agent who knows the identity of some of our number, and who to target to most effectively get your attention?” Newbury noted the slight crack in Bainbridge’s voice as he spoke these words in hushed tones, as if he did not wish to give voice to his fears. The name of Aubrey Knox invoked bad memories for all of them.
The Queen fixed Bainbridge with a stern look. “Doubtful,” she proclaimed dismissively. “We have learned to keep a closer eye on our former or more errant agents,” she said, glancing pointedly at Newbury as she spoke. “We keep them gainfully employed. We should know if any of them were not fulfilling their obligations.”
Newbury felt the words sting like darts.
“Don’t forget, it might still be the Cabal of the Horned Beast, or some other such cult,” said Bainbridge. “The ritualistic elements seem too pronounced to be ignored. Perhaps they tortured one or more of their victims, eliciting names…?”
“Or perhaps it’s foreign agents?” interjected Newbury. The thought suddenly bloomed in his mind. This was what Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales had suggested: that London was swarming with foreigners keen to undermine the Queen’s power. If this were true, surely they could be responsible for the recent spate of deaths. “Could this represent clandestine activity by another nation? Are we at peace with the Kaiser?”
“The Kaiser?” barked Victoria, surprised. “We cannot believe that Wilhelm has any interest in this filthy business,” she stated, firmly, and Newbury saw her left hand open and close into a fist in frustration or anger. Clearly he had touched a nerve. “Although we accept it is possible that foreign agents representing other factions may be at work, we believe that it is far more likely that the problem is home-grown.”
“Home-grown?” asked Bainbridge.
“This so-called Secret Service,” said Victoria, with venom. “Upstarts with ideas above their station.”
Newbury felt Bainbridge bristle beside him. “Your Majesty, I hardly feel-”
“We care little for what you feel, policeman,” she interrupted, savagely.
Newbury could imagine Bainbridge growing redder in the face by the second. “It is my understanding, Your Majesty, that this government agency has been established to aid in the protection of the Empire, not to undermine it. Their stated aim is to ensure the peace and prosperity of our nation and her interests abroad.”
“But, what if, Newbury,” challenged the Queen, “they feel that the interests of the country would be best served by dethroning the monarch, or, at the very least, undermining our power base?” She paused, fixing him with her jaundiced eyes. “What then?”
Bainbridge began to stammer something in response, but wisely bit his tongue. It wouldn’t do to become agitated with the monarch in her presence, and Bainbridge knew it.
“Treat those ‘spies’ as potential enemies of the Crown. Begin your investigations there. We fear they may be plotting a coup. These unfortunate deaths may yet prove to be a symptom of it,” said Victoria.
“Your Majesty, some of their agents are known to me. Indeed, a number of them have assisted Scotland Yard in unravelling some particularly high-profile cases. I myself was involved in establishing the bureau,” said Bainbridge, the exasperation evident in his voice.
“It has not gone unnoticed,” said Victoria, coldly. “But now you will sever all links and treat all of their activity with suspicion. We shall uncover the truth regarding their motives.”
Bainbridge took a deep breath, but didn’t respond.
The Queen looked to Newbury. “Now go. Bring this matter to a swift resolution. No more deaths.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Newbury, his tone neutral. He knew how to play this game. He bowed briefly, putting his hand on Bainbridge’s shoulder and urging him to bow as well. He could feel his friend trembling in anger. He gripped his shoulder all the more firmly, reassuring, but cautionary, too.