Treachery at Lancaster Gate by Anne Perry Page A

over which a battle might be fought, and for the men who fought it beside him.
    “I’ll look into it, sir. He’s certainly arrogant enough—and stupid, in his own way. Plenty of cleverness, and damn all wisdom.”
    “Thank you,” Pitt said. “I’m going to go back over the victims again. See what they might have done together. Just in case…”
    “Yes, sir.”
    —
    “G OOD MEN, ALL OF them,” Chief Superintendent Cotton said an hour later as Pitt sat in his office. He was superior to Whicker, whose responsibility was only at local level.
    Cotton tipped his chair back a little and stared at Pitt. He was about Pitt’s own age, and sunken-cheeked with black, hooded eyes. “Why the devil are you asking?”
    “To clear their names,” Pitt said with slight surprise, as if the answer should have been obvious. “You’ve no doubt heard what the newspapers are suggesting, even if you haven’t read them.”
    Cotton’s smile did not reach the steady eyes, which were unreadable because they were so shadowed by his brows. “You think they were targeted deliberately?”
    “It’s possible. I have to explore it. Disprove it, if I can.”
    “Why? Because you were once in the police yourself?”
    “Because I want to find the man who did this,” Pitt told him. “And for that I need to know why. It’s not any of the anarchists and general troublemakers we know.”
    “Sure of that, are you?”
    “Yes.”
    Cotton let out his breath. “Bad business.” For the first time he regarded Pitt with some respect. “Those five men had worked together on and off for several years. No better or worse than most. Ednam, poor devil, was a bit self-important, bossy, wouldn’t be told what to do if he thought different. Army background, I suppose. But he wasn’t often wrong. His men looked up to him. He was loyal to them, good or bad. It was appreciated.”
    “Good or bad?”
    “He turned a blind eye to a few mistakes, or even a few things done on purpose.”
    “What sort of things?” Pitt pressed.
    “For God’s sake, man!” Cotton said violently, slamming his chair back on all four feet. “The usual sort of things! A bit too much to drink…the odd brawl…laying into a suspect to persuade him to stop lying…one or two arrests a bit rougher than necessary. Find me the policeman that hasn’t crossed the line some time or other, and I’ll show you a boss that doesn’t know his men.”
    “Were they disciplined?” Pitt tried to keep his tone neutral, but with difficulty.
    Cotton raised his black brows. “I have no idea. I didn’t ask, and neither will you, if you’ve any sense.”
    “What about losing evidence? Accepting the odd gift from someone to turn the other way?” Pitt could not let it go yet.
    Cotton stared at him.
    “Or helping themselves to a little evidence, like a bottle of whisky or a box of cigars?” Pitt went on. “Petty theft a member of the public wouldn’t know? Or care about? Being beaten into giving false testimony or disabled during a violent arrest is a different matter. And being framed for a crime they didn’t commit is another matter altogether. Is
that
what we’re talking about?”
    “No!” Cotton said angrily. “Not in my command, and not that I know about. Do you?”
    Pitt was startled. “No I don’t!”
    “Swear for all your men, would you? Tellman, for example?” Cotton said, meeting Pitt’s eyes with a totally unreadable expression.
    “I would swear for his honesty, yes,” Pitt said without hesitation. “Or any of my men in Special Branch.”
    “For his honesty? Interesting,” Cotton observed. “Then what would you not swear for?”
    Pitt had to think for a moment. Cotton would remember every word he said, and trip him on them if he could. He would repeat them where he thought it served his purpose. If Pitt denied any possible fault it would mark him as absurd, incompetent, or a deliberate liar.
    “He’s an idealist,” he chose his words. “And loyal. He might