His orders were to go to the meeting place and await the others. Since the guests were booked in, they would not be going anywhere. Kee could come back with reinforcements and the arrests could be made. On the other hand, if he caught both men himself, he could bask in the glory. After seeing such a display of courage and enterprise, Tallis was bound to have him back in Scotland Yard. Kee would not only have proved his mettle, he would have outshone Robert Colbeck at last. There would be a substantial reward from Sir Marcus Burnhope and the kind of lavish praise in the newspapers that he had always sought.
The decision was made. They were his.
Colbeck was getting both restive and annoyed with himself. He and Madeleine had been waiting for some time in Sackville Street, the grand thoroughfare that ran through the middle of Dublin, lending a grace and elegance that was reminiscent of towns like Bath and Cheltenham. The street was wide enough to allow a carriage and four horses to turn in a circle and there was a bright cleanliness about the city that would put most of the districts of London to shame. Leeming had been to the four hotels on his list without success. Colbeck and Madeleine had visited the same number.
‘Where is he?’ asked Leeming, irritably. ‘He only had three on his list.’
‘Well, it’s not because he was slow,’ said Madeleine. ‘When he left here, he went off like a greyhound.’
‘I blame myself,’ said Colbeck, looking in vain down the street. ‘I shouldn’t have left him alone. I thought we could cover the hotels more quickly if we split up.’
‘Do you remember the places where he went?’
‘Yes, Madeleine.’
‘What was the last one on the list?’
He took out a sheet of paper and checked it. ‘The Belvedere,’ he said.
Alban Kee was careful. He familiarised himself with the geography of the hotel so that he knew where all the exits were. His first target was Manus Cullen. According to Colbeck, it was Terence Whiteside who’d been there on two occasions to take the ransom from Sir Marcus. It was reasonable to expect that he’d done the same with Tunnadine. Because he was lying unconscious behind a hedge, Kee never had the opportunity to take a long look at Whiteside but if the latter did confront Tunnadine, then the man who clubbed the detective to the ground had to be Cullen. As he recalled the blow, Kee’s whole skull throbbed. It was time for retribution.
He ducked into a space beneath the main staircase so that he could check and load his gun before thrusting it into the holster under his coat. Hat in hand, he went up the stairs to the room where Cullen and his wife were apparently staying. First, he listened at the door but could hear neither voices nor movement inside. When he tried knocking, he got no response yet sensed that somebody was in the room. He knocked harder and stood back. Someone came up the stairs and saw him.
‘Good day to you, sir,’ said Cullen, genially. ‘May I help you?’
‘I was just calling on a friend but he doesn’t seem to be there.’
‘Is he a good friend of yours, sir?’
‘As a matter of fact, he is.’
‘Then I daresay you’d like to give him a pleasant surprise. My name is Peter O’Malley and I’m the deputy manager. If you can guarantee that you are what you say you are, then I’ll be happy to use my pass key to let you in.’
Reassured by the sound of an Irish voice, Kee invented a plausible tale about his putative friendship with the very man standing next to him. By way of showing his credentials, he added all kinds of details.
‘Hold on, sir,’ said Cullen, laughing. ‘That’s enough. I’m convinced that you’re the gentleman’s friend. In we go.’ Producing the key, he inserted it in the lock and turned it. He opened the door and stood back to let Kee enter the room first, going in after him. ‘There you are, sir. Your friend will be delighted to see you.’
Kee was staring at the woman who’d jumped up from her chair in alarm.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘My name is Rhoda Wills, sir.’
‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Then you’ve found her at last,’ said Cullen.
Kee hadn’t realised that the man was standing directly behind him. Hand on his gun, he swung round but he was no match for the Irishman. Cullen had already taken out a long-bladed knife and he thrust it between Kee’s ribs with shuddering force. When the detective fell against him, Cullen lowered him gently to the ground and watched the blood staining his victim’s shirt and waistcoat. Rhoda drew back against the wall in horror with a hand over her eyes. Cullen put an arm round her and held the blade close to her face.
‘One word out of you and it will be your blood on this knife next.’ Tearing the coverlet off the bed, he threw it over the dead body and grinned. ‘He’d only himself to blame,’ he said. ‘He was a private detective hired by Tunnadine and he’d never learnt to watch his back. This is the result.’
Cullen went out again and locked the door behind him. He walked over to Whiteside’s room and banged on the door with a fist. It was opened instantly.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Whiteside.
‘I had to kill him. We need to leave.’
When they reached the Belvedere Hotel, Colbeck went inside with Madeleine and left Victor Leeming outside. The sergeant found a position from which he could watch the front and side exits. He kept his back against a brick wall so that he could not be surprised from behind. The hotel was popular. Cabs arrived at regular intervals to drop off or pick up customers at the main door. Leeming felt certain that Alban Kee had found out something and decided to keep it to himself. Unlike the sergeant, he had no loyalty to Colbeck. Indeed, he would seek any opportunity presented to him to get his own back against a man involved in his dismissal from Scotland Yard. Bringing Kee into the investigation had been a mistake in Leeming’s opinion. Lives were at risk. In a case as dangerous as this one, absolute trust between the detectives was required.
As soon as he revealed his identity, Colbeck gained the manager’s trust. He was told that Whiteside and Cullen had checked into the hotel with their respective wives. The manager also mentioned that someone else had shown great interest in the guests. His description of the man confirmed that it was Alban Kee. After taking note of the relevant room numbers, Colbeck sent Madeleine outside to warn Leeming that their quarry was in the hotel. Colbeck went upstairs. It was a long climb but he ran up the steps as fast as he could, stopping when he reached the top landing so that he could catch his breath. He then went to the room occupied by Whiteside. There was no need to knock because the door was slightly ajar. Inside the room was evidence of a swift departure with a few items of abandoned clothing and a small, empty valise on the floor. Rushing to the window, he looked out but all he could see was Leeming maintaining his patient vigil with Madeleine at his side.
Colbeck went to the adjacent door, only to find it locked. When he looked through the keyhole, however, he saw something that riveted him fleetingly to the spot. The coverlet was on the floor hiding something beneath it. One foot protruded. Colbeck had the eerie sensation that he was looking at Alban Kee’s shoe. His first instinct was to alert the manager to what had happened but there was a more pressing need. The kidnappers were making a run for it. Pursuit was a priority. Having come up the main staircase, he knew that they hadn’t descended that way. He searched the corridors until he found the backstairs then shot down them three at a time.
Imogen and Rhoda had taken the same route at a much slower pace. Holding their skirts up with one hand, they clattered down the uncarpeted stairs. Whiteside and Cullen were behind them, struggling with the luggage because they didn’t wish to let the hotel staff know that they were quitting the building. It meant that the two women had a chance for a whispered conversation.