The Cutthroat (Isaac Bell 10)
Page 60
“Deny what?”
“We know who you are.”
Bell tightened his grip and backed him hard against the bricks. He pressed the barrels to his cheek. “Tell me who I am.”
“We know who you are, Mr. Isaac Bell. What we don’t know is who you are spying for. The United States or Germany. Or both.”
Bell snapped his fingers in sudden comprehension. “Abbington-Westlake.”
The operator’s eyes widened. He recovered in an instant and desperately tried to backpedal from his mistake. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Tell that underhanded rat I know he’s your boss,” said Bell, and stalked away.
Joel Wallace trotted after him.
“What the heck was that about?”
“Commander Abbington-Westlake, British Admiralty, Naval Intelligence Department, Foreign Division.”
“Fancy name for ‘Royal Navy spy.’ Told you, it was dreadnoughts.”
“I caught him snapping Kodaks of ours in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Back in aught eight.”
“Wha’d you do to him?”
“Promised I’d throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge if he tried it again. He turned out to be very helpful.” Bell shook his head. “Abbington-Westlake is one of those operators who acts like he’s a stuffy old duffer before his time. Behind the bumbling front he’s slick as ice. Should have thought about him first time around. I just assumed he was too sharp to make this stupid a mistake.”
“Like I say, spies don’t trust nobody.”
“The thing is,” Bell mused, “he is such an insider . . . If anyone knows what the Yard won’t tell me about the Ripper, it’s Abbington-Westlake.”
“Will he talk to you?”
“Not unless he sees a payoff.”
“What can you offer him?”
Bell thought hard for a full minute. “We need a German.”
“Where do we get a German?” asked Wallace.
“I’ll get the German. You find out which of Abbington-Westlake’s London clubs he’ll eat lunch at tomorrow. Can you do that by midnight?”
Wallace nodded. “Bank on it.”
“Report to me in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”
“At midnight?”
“I’ll need you to stand lookout.”
“What’ll I be looking out for?”
“The cops.”
“Why?”
“Because it won’t do me or you any good if Metropolitan Police constables arrest the Van Dorn Detective Agency’s Chief Investigator.”