Frankie's Letter (14 page)

Cavanaugh had, according to Sherston
presumed on the relationship.
Did that mean an affair with Tara? Sherston obviously cared about Tara deeply and a fifty-odd-year-old ex-ranch-hand with no fixed income or position wouldn't be anyone's ideal choice for a young girl from a wealthy family.

‘How did you meet him?' asked Anthony gently.

‘He came to stay here for a few days. My mother met him at a charity function in London and it turned out he was a relation of my father's, so naturally he was invited to stay. My father's been dead for years, and it was nice to meet someone from his side of the family.'

Anthony eye's widened. A charity? This sounded promising. ‘Which one?' he asked with what he hoped sounded like nothing but polite interest. Tara O'Bryan looked surprised. ‘I did quite a bit of work with charities, one way and another, as a doctor before the war,' he explained. ‘I wondered if it was one I'd been involved with.'

‘I'm not sure. It was an Irish Friendly Society in Camden Town.' She glanced at her mother who was seemingly intent on her magazine. ‘My mother does a lot of charity work with poor Irish families. My father was devoted to Irish causes and she's picked up the torch,' continued Tara. ‘What on earth was the name? Something Hibernia, I think, but I can't be sure. It doesn't matter, anyway.'

Anthony made a little noise in his throat. Something Hibernia! Bloody
hell!
An Irish charity?
The
Irish charity, more like, a front for German-Irish links.

Veronica O'Bryan was suddenly very still. Tara, her attention fixed on Anthony, was unaware of her mother's tension but Veronica O'Bryan was as taut as a stretched bowstring.

Anthony deliberately relaxed his shoulders and sat back in an attitude of interested calm. ‘No, it doesn't matter. I thought I might know it, that's all.' Out of the corner of his eye he could see the strain ebbing out of Veronica O'Bryan. ‘Are you particularly interested in Irish affairs, Miss O'Bryan?'

‘I think any intelligent person has to be concerned about Ireland, wouldn't you say? All the news is about the war, but the Irish problem hasn't gone away. There will be Home Rule for Ireland, but on what terms, I don't know. My mother's got very strong views on the subject.'

She glanced at Veronica O'Bryan, still, to all appearances, deaf to what they were saying. ‘If my father had lived, he would've been in any Irish government. He died when I was very small, and I can't remember him, but my mother says he would have been a great man if he'd lived.'

Anthony, who had read a fair sample of the late Bernard O'Bryan's works the previous evening, couldn't agree. The man had been eaten up with hatred of the English and obsessed with honour, blood, sacrifice and death. Anthony had disliked it very much.

‘He wrote poetry,' said Tara O'Bryan in a wary way. ‘I don't know if you've ever read any?'

Anthony, torn between truth and tact, chose tact. ‘I'm sorry, I don't read a lot of poetry.' It might have been his imagination, but Tara O'Bryan seemed relieved.

‘Terry Cavanaugh was a great supporter of Home Rule, too,' said Anthony, steering the conversation back on track. ‘I was surprised how well informed he was, considering he was American.'

Tara O'Bryan laughed. ‘He might have been born in New York but he was Irish and proud of it. As I said, he was one of my father's relations.'

That wasn't a bad idea on Cavanaugh's part, thought Anthony. If Cavanaugh really was on to something, it would make an investigation a lot easier if he posed as a relation rather than a chance-met acquaintance.

‘Anyway,' she added with a shrug, ‘I liked Terry. He was different from anyone else I'd ever met. My mother thought the world of him at first.' She shrugged once more. ‘Then it all went wrong.'

Anthony wanted to ask how but that sort of question wasn't permitted. However, if Veronica realized that Terry Cavanaugh was using her to gain an entrée to Starhanger, then it could have all gone wrong very quickly, even without an affair with Tara.

For the first time he felt a twist of distaste for Cavanaugh. Whatever he'd done and whatever the motives, Tara O'Bryan had been upset. It seemed wrong to use this girl with her bright, intelligent eyes and sensitive mouth as a mere counter in a game.

‘I'm sorry he's dead,' said Tara. ‘I hate to think of dying so far from home. I suppose his newspaper would have informed his family – if he had one, that is,' she added.

Anthony seized the opportunity. ‘He never talked about any family to me. He mentioned friends occasionally. There was someone called Frankie, I believe.'

Mrs O'Bryan's fingers whitened on the magazine again. ‘Colonel Brooke,' she said in a carrying voice. ‘If you are going to talk about my husband's relatives, you might have the courtesy to include me. What's all this about Cavanaugh's friends?'

‘I wondered if they'd heard he'd died,' replied Anthony politely.

Privately he was wondering if Frankie was a member of either the New York or London Hibernian charities. That would add up. Maybe Frankie had been a bit too free with his confidences to Cavanaugh and Veronica O'Bryan knew that. He was sure it was Frankie's name which had prompted Veronica O'Bryan to stick her oar in. ‘I heard him mention a chap called Frankie. I wondered if Miss O'Bryan knew him.'

There was a glint of amused triumph in Mrs O'Bryan's eyes. ‘I'm afraid we can't help you, Colonel. Terry didn't have many friends and I never heard of a man of that name. That's right, isn't it Tara?'

‘If you say so, mother,' said Tara with a frown. ‘I don't think he ever mentioned a Frankie.'

Anthony's voice was casual. ‘I don't suppose it matters,' he said lightly as he could. Veronica O'Bryan knew something, and he was prepared to bet that one of the things she knew about was Frankie.

He got up and walked over to the coffee tray on the sideboard. He put his cup down and turned, knowing Sir Charles was watching, and gave him the very slightest of nods.

Sir Charles didn't respond but Anthony knew he'd understood. General Harker rumbled something about forcing the Narrows – they were still talking about Gallipoli – and Sir Charles, as if struck by a sudden thought, beckoned to Anthony to join them by the hearth.

‘Here's a man who can bear me out, General. My point is that the war won't be won by mere military expertise, important though that is. It's a question of industry and supplies.'

This time it was Sir Charles who gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was Anthony's cue. ‘Now, Colonel, who would you say had the greater amount of natural resources at their beck and call? Us or the Central Powers?'

‘On the face of it, Germany,' said Anthony. ‘However, as long as we can keep the shipping lanes open, we've got the resources of the whole Empire to call on, but we need to sharpen up. I'd like to see a great deal more sense of urgency in the government and powers-that-be. There are too many complacent types running the show.'

Sir Charles looked suitably shocked. ‘Complacent, Colonel? Have you got anyone in particular in mind?'

‘Not so much a particular someone but a particular something,' Anthony answered. He took the wash-leather bag from his pocket and, reaching for a saucer from the sideboard, poured the diamonds onto the saucer in his hand.

Tara O'Bryan walked forward and looked at the soapy-coloured stones with interest. ‘What are they?'

‘Diamonds.'

Tara gave a little cry of astonishment. ‘Diamonds?'

‘Diamonds?' echoed Josette Sherston. She and the other women in the room crowded round. ‘Are you sure, Colonel?' she asked. She fingered her necklace absently. ‘They don't look anything like my diamonds.'

‘Yours have been cut and polished, my dear,' said Sherston. ‘How much are they worth, Colonel? Have you any idea?'

‘I'm not absolutely certain—' began Anthony when General Harker cleared his throat.

‘I know a little about jewellery, Colonel. I knew a diamond-wallah in India.' He reached out his hand. ‘May I?'

‘Please do.'

The General picked the biggest stone and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Anthony saw his eyes narrow. ‘They're diamonds all right. Good ones, too, I'd say. My word, Colonel, you could be holding an absolute fortune in your hand.'

‘How did you get hold of them, Colonel?' It was Tara O'Bryan.

‘I ran into a friend in London. I first came across him out in Africa. He's a nice youngster by the name of Rycroft. His uncle's a big noise in the mining world, I understand, and this boy, Martin Rycroft, had a bit of luck.'

Anthony picked up the diamonds and ran them through his fingers. ‘This is what I mean about resources. Rycroft's found a rich field, or whatever you call it, that's quite unknown. He found these in a river. It's a bit off the beaten track, apparently, up in the mountains on the borders of German East. According to him it could do with being properly explored. It'd be different in peacetime but he got the wind-up a bit, being so close to enemy territory. There was a Dutchman, a Boer, in his party who he suspected of being pro-German. Rycroft reckoned that if he stayed, he'd have an expedition from German East around his ears in fairly short order, so he played it down and came back to London. He hopes he's put the Boer off the scent but he's not sure.'

Sir Charles looked at Anthony with puzzled, innocent eyes. ‘This is all very interesting, Colonel, but you complained about complacency. You'll excuse me if I say I can't see the connection between that and your diamonds.'

Anthony laughed dismissively. ‘It's because of complacency that Rycroft lent me some of his haul. When he got back to London he went straight to the Foreign Office to report his find. He's been shunted from pillar to post. That's why he roped me in. He's got it into his head that I know all sorts of people and might be able to galvanize someone into taking action.'

Tara looked at the saucer with her head on one side. ‘Why should the Foreign Office be interested in diamonds?'

‘Don't be a fool, Tara,' snapped her mother. ‘You might think of them as pretty stones but to the government they mean guns. That's right, isn't it, Colonel?' she added defiantly.

‘Well, not absolutely, no,' said Anthony. ‘I mean, I'm sure you're right, Mrs O'Bryan, but there's more to it than that. You see, industry needs diamonds, even diamonds which would be no good as jewels.'

Mrs O'Bryan's eyes narrowed. ‘How?'

‘They're used extensively in manufacturing,' said Sherston. ‘They're the hardest mineral we know.'

Mrs O'Bryan looked at the soapy-coloured heap in the saucer with more respect. ‘That's interesting,' she said quietly. ‘Very interesting.'

‘Anyway,' said Anthony, ‘you see what I mean about complacency. As my friend Rycroft sees it, there's thousands of pounds worth of diamonds lying around, and the Germans could invade across the border at any time. We probably wouldn't even know they were there. As I said, it's pretty wild country. Poor Rycroft's driving himself nuts trying to get some proper action out of the stuffed shirts that run these things. As far as I can make out, he's kicking his heels while a lot of mandarins decide which department he should apply to.'

Sir Charles, in his role as mandarin, tutted and shook his head gravely. ‘I'm afraid that story rings only too true, Colonel. Still, even African diamond kings have to follow the proper procedures.'

Anthony gave what he hoped was an ironic laugh. ‘Diamond king! He
will
be, if there's any justice in the world. After all, he found the blessed things. It's ridiculous to think he's stuck in a third-rate hotel in Cheshire Place while he knows where enough diamonds are to buy the Ritz
and
take an option on the Savoy while he's about it.'

Sir Charles looked affronted. He did it very well. ‘I appreciate your feelings on the matter, Colonel, but Whitehall has its own way of doing things and the proper procedures need to be followed. You can hardly expect His Majesty's Government to rush an expedition into the wilds of Africa on some boy's say-so.'

‘He might be young but he's knocked about a bit and his family name should command some respect. Besides that, he's got some impressive paperwork. I've seen it. Maps, geology, the lot, to say nothing of a couple of handfuls of diamonds.'

‘I could run a piece on him in the
Examiner
,' said Sherston. ‘Rycroft, you say he's called?
How Fortune Favoured The Brave
. That would make a nice headline. There's a few angles I could use with a story like this. That would shake things up.'

‘I'm afraid that would never do,' said Sir Charles quickly. Sherston looked rebellious. ‘I'm sorry, Sherston, but if the facts are as the colonel has related, then absolute secrecy and discretion must be our watchwords.'

He glanced round the group surrounding the table. ‘I must ask you all to keep this to yourselves. I imagine that the enemy would love to get hold of the location of an untapped diamond field. Now you've brought the matter to my attention, Colonel, I will try to expedite this young man's cause in the proper quarters. After all, even as we speak, the Germans may be advancing and the opportunity could be lost.'

Josette came forward and reached out her hand for the saucer. ‘May I?'

Anthony gave it to her and she tipped the diamonds into the palm of her hand. ‘They look so dull at the moment.
A rough diamond.
I've said that lots of times but I've never thought about what it meant.'

She picked up the largest with a wondering smile and held it up to the light. ‘I wonder what this will be like when it's cut and polished?'

Her smile became wistful. ‘I love jewels,' she said thoughtfully. ‘They're beautiful. There aren't enough things which exist simply because they're beautiful.' She looked at Anthony, a tiny smile curving the corner of her mouth. ‘To see them like this is exciting.'