فصل 30

CHAPTER 30

THE CALL

GEORGE DARLING IMPATIENTLY PACED the hallway outside the door to Chief Superintendent Blake’s office in Scotland Yard. George was not accustomed to being kept waiting.

The call from Uncle Neville about Wendy had turned George’s already troubled world completely upside down. First his wife had disappeared, now his daughter. In a flying machine. George was furious at himself for entrusting his children to his batty relative Neville, with his lunatic inventions.

George’s first act had been to order Neville to bring John and Michael back to London, immediately. His second act had been to contact the Cambridgeshire police to have them organize a search for Wendy. They had been scouring the countryside, so far without success. George was pressing them hard to widen the search. He wanted desperately to go organize it himself, but felt he had to remain in London, to keep pressure on Scotland Yard to find his wife. That was what had led him to request—actually, demand—an appointment this morning with Blake.

And so he paced, exhausted, sick with guilt and worry, nagged incessantly by questions about both his wife and daughter. Where had the flying machine come down? Why hadn’t anyone …

“He will see you now, Mr. Darling,” Blake’s secretary announced.

“About time,” muttered George. He squared his shoulders and marched into Blake’s office. The secretary closed the door behind him.

“Mr. Darling,” said Blake, rising from his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of—”

“Spare me the pleasantries,” said George. “I haven’t the stomach for it today.”

Blake sat back down.

“Of course, I understand,” he said, with a calmness that George found very irritating. “I heard about your daughter. Terrible thing. A girl on a flying contraption …”

He stopped there, but George saw the rest of the thought in Blake’s eyes—contempt for a father who would let his daughter get into such a predicament.

“Terrible thing,” Blake repeated. “If there’s anything we can do here at the Yard …”

“I am working with the Cambridgeshire authorities,” said George. “And I am confident they will find my daughter. What I wish to know is what progress you have made in locating my wife.”

“As my men have told you a number of times, Mr. Darling, we are doing—”

“I know what they’ve told me, Chief Superintendent. They’ve told me they’re doing everything they can. But I fail to understand how, with all the resources of Scotland Yard, they have produced nothing. Nothing. My wife was…my wife is a respectable woman, from a good family. She is not a beggar; she is not a criminal. Such people don’t simply disappear.”

“Oh, but they do,” said Blake, again with that irritat-ingly calm voice. “People disappear all the time.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing more you can do.”

“What I am saying,” said Blake, “is that everything that can be done is being done.”

George felt as though his head was going to explode. He had gotten virtually no sleep since his wife had gone missing. Now his daughter was missing as well. And this smug, pompous man, sitting behind a desk …

George realized that he had moved close to that desk. He was now leaning over Blake, unable to stop himself from blurting out what he was thinking—what he had been thinking for days now.

“Perhaps you don’t want to find her,” he said.

Blake stiffened. “What did you say?”

George leaned closer. “Before my wife went missing, she came to see you,” he said.

“Did she?” said Blake. “I meet so many—”

“She came to see you,” interrupted George, “to discuss certain concerns she had about one of your men, James Smith. And about the Palace.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“My wife told me that after she left that meeting with you,” continued George, “she was almost grabbed by a police officer in the Underground. Two days later she disappeared.”

“What are you suggesting?” said Blake quietly.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” said George. “I’m telling you this, Chief Superintendent. I want my wife found. And I no longer believe your department is trying to find her.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Mr. Darling.”

“Yes it is,” said George. “And I intend to make sure it is investigated. I have friends in the government, Chief Superintendent. Powerful friends. I will bring this matter to their attention.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” said Blake, his voice still calm. “Making accusations? A man in your position? A man with a career?” He paused, then added, softly, “A man whose wife could be…vulnerable?”

George recoiled. “Is that a threat?’ he said.

“No,” said Blake. “It’s merely a description of your situation. I shouldn’t think you’d want to make it any worse.”

For a moment the two men stared at each other. George started to say something, then decided against it. He spun on his heel, went to the door, yanked it open violently, and stalked out.

When he was gone, Blake stared at the empty doorway for a moment, drumming his fingers on his desk. Then he picked up the telephone and made a call.