Death on a Branch Line(67)

John Lambert had been a very clever student indeed at Cambridge University. He had then joined the North Eastern Railway, which was a surprise move, for men of the graduate sort were only just beginning to enter railway careers in numbers. He’d quickly brought himself under notice for quickness of understanding, and by age thirty he was District Superintendent of the Traffic Department of the Eastern Area, whereas the last man in that post had been in the fifties or older.

‘He was then’, said the Chief, ‘taken into a special body of men selected from all the railway companies, and charged with –’

He stopped at this and looked over at Usher, and then the Chief seemed to begin all over again, saying:

‘Men and arms can be carried anywhere on rail –’

‘And they will be, Stringer,’ Usher put in from the sofa. ‘Troops, provisions and matériel.’

At which – as Usher leant forward and put out his cigarette – I wondered whether this ‘matériel’ was the same thing as ‘material’.

‘I make no predictions as to the nature of any European war,’ Usher went on, ‘but the continental railways were laid out with an eye to military considerations and German railways, for example, are owned by the state.’

The thought seemed to agitate him to the point where he had to stand up.

‘They can hurl their army to any given point at a moment’s notice,’ he said, rising, ‘and we must be able to do the same. It is not necessary for you to have the full details, Stringer, but since you’ve thrust yourself forward so far, and on condition of absolute confidentiality …’

He walked over to the nearest mantel-piece and collected his own glass of whisky which stood next to my empty one. I had downed it in a single draught, and it had been fuelling my headache ever since.

‘A committee was formed,’ Usher continued, ‘and provided with imperial funds to formulate working notices – schemes of transportation – to be employed in the event of an emergency.’

‘Meaning a war with Germany?’ I put in.

‘There are other, equally dangerous possibilities, Stringer.’

‘Such as what, sir?’

There was a beat of silence, and then the fellow coloured up and grinned, looking almost girlish; I liked him for it, and I grinned back at him.

‘Imagine the complexities, Stringer,’ he went on, replacing his glass. ‘Offensive and defensive railway schemes to be created, supply depots to be nominated. The coaling of the home fleet to be accomplished – now how do you suppose that is to be managed in time of war?’

‘That’s to be done under heavy guard from Hull,’ said the Chief, lighting up a new cigar.

Usher was checked for a moment by this intervention of the Chief’s, whose nose looked different again with a cigar beneath it.

‘The schemes are constantly tested with practice mobilisations,’ Usher continued, ‘during which ordinary services are to be carried on as far as possible. The committee men work in the offices of their own companies and at a central co-ordinating office in London. They are few in number – kept to a minimum by the requirement of absolute secrecy – and the weight of work is very great. I am told they are all very brilliant, and with intellectual brilliance comes a degree of waywardness, as I’m sure you appreciate, detective sergeant.’

‘Try to picture yourself as intellectually brilliant, lad,’ the Chief cut in. ‘Imagine yourself into that situation.’

Usher caught up his whisky glass again, and sipped at it.

‘That said,’ he ran on, ‘John Lambert had appeared until lately to be a man of impeccable character. But his defect has been disclosed, and it takes the form of an excessive loyalty to his murdering brother.’

‘I don’t believe he is a murderer,’ I said.

‘Hugh Lambert had a liking for the country-side,’ said Usher, ignoring me, ‘but he would also spend a good deal of time in London making – well, making free.’ Usher replaced the glass once again, adding: ‘… Making free in Mayfair.’

He was looking at me, but I had never been to Mayfair.

‘The long and the short of it, Stringer,’ he said, ‘is that John Lambert has tried to black-mail us – Britain, I mean. He has proposed to disclose a digest of the mobilisation notices to our enemies unless his brother is reprieved and the sentence commuted.’

‘He means to disclose the information to the Germans?’ I said.

‘If you want to put it like that, yes,’ said Usher.

He saw off the remainder of his whisky, and sank back down into the sofa.