TREACHERY AT LANCASTER GATE is a Thomas and Charlotte Pitt mystery. The story starts with an explosion at an abandoned building kills two police officer and seriously injuring three more. Thomas Pitt, Commander of the Special Branches is put in charge of the investigation to ensure it is not anarchists. The more he looks into the explosion, the more he realizes the police were lured there in hopes of killing them all and anarchist had nothing to do with it.
He investigates along with a police detective who is slow to believe that there could be any problems inside the police force he loves and respects. Things become dangerous for both of them as the trail leads all the way to parliament and a very valuable trade deal.
Anne Perry places the reader in a time of corruption and Victorian society at the turn of the century, when things were beginning a period of great change. Add into the murder and mystery and you have a thrilling story with TREACHERY AT LANCASTER GATE that keeps you reading page after page.
Gripping and provocative, the latest Thomas and Charlotte
Pitt mystery by New York Times bestselling author
Anne Perry peers unflinchingly into the corrupt affairs of
Victorian society on the brink of the centuryโs turn. The
world is poised for social and political change, but England
holds tight to its traditions, classes, and prejudices.
When an explosion in London kills two policemen and
seriously injures three more, many believe that anarchists
are the culprits. But Thomas Pitt, commander of Special
Branch, knows the cityโs radical groups well enough to
suspect otherwise: that someone with decidedly more personal
motives lit the deadly fuse. As he investigates the source
of the fatal blast, heโs stunned to discover the bombing was
a calculated strike against the ranks of law enforcement.
But still more shocking revelations await, as Pittโs
inquiries lead him to a member of Parliament hoping for a
lucrative business deal, a high-ranking police officer with
secrets to keep, and an aristocratic opium addict seeking
murderous revenge. As he pursues each increasingly
threatening lead, Pitt finds himself impeded at every turn
by the barriers put in place to protect the rich and
powerfulโbarriers which, as they start to crumble, threaten
to bury him alive.
EXCERPT
TREACHERY AT LANCASTER EXCERPT
chapter 1
Pitt stood in the middle of the street looking at the
smoldering ruins of the house. The fire brigade had
thoroughly hosed the small bursts of flame here and there,
and the water had puddled on the floor and settled into the
craters left by the bomb that had detonated approximately
forty-ยญfive minutes ago. It was midday but the sky was still
clouded with smoke and the stench of it was everywhere.
Pitt moved out of the way as two ambulance men lifted a
wounded man onto a makeshift litter and carried him out to
the waiting ambulance. The horses were shifting their weight
impatiently. They knew the smell of burning in the early
winter air and each crash of collapsing timber startled
them, though they waited obediently.
โThatโs it, sir,โ the white-ยญfaced constable said to Pitt,
blinking rapidly. Perhaps it was the smoke that stung the
manโs eyes, but more probably it was emotion. All of the men
who had been caught in the explosion were police: five of
them altogether. โThatโs the last of them out.โ
โThank you.โ Pitt acknowledged the words. โHow many dead?โ
โHobbs and Newman, sir. We didnโt move the bodies.โ The
constable coughed and tried to clear his throat. โEdnam,
Bossiney, and Yarcombe are pretty badly injured, sir.โ
โThank you,โ Pitt repeated. His mind was teeming with
thoughts, and yet he could not come up with anything to say
that would give any real comfort to the constable. Pitt was
head of Special Branch, that discreet part of Security that
dealt with threats to the nationโยญsabotage, assassinations,
bombings, any form of terrorism. He had seen destruction and
violent death more times than he cared to remember. In fact,
before Special Branch he had been in the regular police,
dealing primarily with cases of murder.
But this was a deliberate attack directed specifically at
the police: colleagues he had known and worked with over the
years. He could remember Newman getting married, Hobbsโs
first promotion. Now he had to search this wreckage for
their bodies.
He turned and started to move slowly, picking his way so as
not to disturb what was left of the situationโยญthe evidence,
if it could be called such. They already knew it was a bomb
blast. Two people had been close enough to witness it. They
had heard the explosion and seen the rubble flying, and then
the flames as the wood caught fire. Now they were sitting in
the back of an ambulance as one of the drivers finished
binding up a gash in an arm caused by flying glass. There
were shards everywhere from exploded windows. Both of the
witnesses looked battered and shocked, but Pitt would have
to interview them.
He spoke to the man first. He looked to be in his sixties,
white-ยญhaired, dressed in a formal coat. Likely he had been
on his way back home from church. There were cuts on the
right side of his face, and a burn across his cheek, as if a
piece of flaming wood had caught him. His right side was
smeared with dust and there were small burns in the fabric
of his clothes.
โOn my way home from church, God help us,โ the man said
shakily after Pitt had introduced himself and apologized for
disturbing him. โWhat kind of people would do this?โ He was
frightened, and trying desperately not to show it in front
of the woman. His wife, Pitt assumed. He must have been
walking on the outside, as a man would, and she had been
closer to the blast and was more seriously hurt. It was her
arm the ambulance man was binding.
โDid you see anyone else in the street?โ Pitt asked. โAnyone
at all? Any witnesses might help.โ
โNo . . . no, I didnโt. We were talking to each other,โ the
man replied. โWho would do this? What do they want?โ
โI donโt know, sir. But weโll find out,โ Pitt promised. The
ambulance man caught Pittโs eye, his glance indicating that
Pitt should hurry. Blood was already beginning to seep
through the bandage on the womanโs arm as he added another
layer, and she looked pale.
Pitt handed his card to the man. He didnโt see any point in
delaying them further. โThank you. Thatโs all for now. If
you remember anything, please let us know.โ He wished them
well, and with a nod to the ambulance man he walked back
toward the house. It was time to go in and look at the
bodies, gather whatever evidence there was.
He skirted around a block of fallen masonry, picking his way
carefully. He could taste burning in the air, and yet it was
cold.
โSir!โ a fireman called out. โYou canโt come in here! Itโs .
. .โ
Pitt kept on walking, his feet crunching on broken glass.
โCommander Pitt,โ he introduced himself.
โOh . . . well, watch where you put your feet, sir. And your
head.โ He glanced upward at a broken beam that was hanging
at a crazy angle, swaying a little, as if it could become
detached and fall off any moment. โYou still shouldnโt ought
to be here,โ he added.
โThe dead men?โ Pitt requested.
โItโs dangerous in here,โ the man pointed out. โTheyโll not
be going nowhere, sir. Best you let us get them out. The
blast killed them, sir. No doubt about that.โ
Pitt would have liked the excuse not to look at the bodies,
but there was none. He might learn nothing useful, but it
would be a beginning of facing the reality and coming to
terms with it.
He was standing in front of the fireman. The man was
pale-ยญfaced, apart from the black ash smudges on his cheeks.
His uniform was filthy, and wet. When he had time to think
about it, he would realize he was cold as well.
โThe bodies?โ Pitt nudged him as gently as he could.
โThat way, sir,โ the man said reluctantly. โBut be careful.
Youโd be best not to touch anything. Bring the whole lot
down on top oโ yourself.โ
โI wonโt,โ Pitt responded, beginning the awkward journey,
trying to avoid tripping. If he fell he would almost
certainly bang into a jutting wall strut, a piece of smashed
furniture, or something dangling from where the ceiling used
to be.
The floorboards were half up, torn by the blast. It must
have been a large bomb and, to judge by the burning and the
angles of the broken wood, he was near the center of it.
What on earth had happened here in the quiet house on a
pleasant London street near Kensington Gardens? Anarchists?
London was full of them. Half the revolutionaries in Europe
had either lived here or passed through. In this year of
1898 there had been less terrorist activity than in the
recent past, but now, almost at the close of the year, it
seemed Special Branchโs sense of ease was misplaced. Was
this the dying blow, or the first outrider of another storm?
Nihilists in Europe had assassinated President Carnot of
France, Tsar Alexander II of Russia, the Spanish prime
minister, Cรกnovas del Castillo, and, earlier this year, the
empress Elisabeth of Austria-ยญHungary. Perhaps the violence
was now coming here to England as well?
In front of Pitt there was a body, or what was left of it.
Suddenly he could not swallow, and he thought for a moment
that he was going to be sick. One leg was entirely gone, one
side of the chest caved in under part of a beam from the
rafters. But the manโs face was oddly unmarked. Pitt could
recognize Newman.
He would have to go and see Newmanโs widow, say all the
usual words of grief. It would not help, but its omission
would hurt.
He stared at the body. Did it tell him anything, other than
what the fireman had already said? There was no smoke on
Newmanโs face. His left arm was mostly gone, but when Pitt
looked more closely he saw his right hand was clean. Did
that mean he was already inside here when the bomb went off?
He had not battled his way through smoke and rubble. Why had
he come here? Trouble reported? An alarm of some sort?
Following someone? A meeting already arranged? An ambush?
He turned and moved away, dizzy for a moment. He took a deep
breath, steadied himself, and pressed on.
The second body was half-ยญobscured by fallen plaster and
wood, but it was far less obviously damaged. There was
little smoke or dust on Hobbsโs face and his pattern of
freckles was easily recognizable. Pitt studied him as
dispassionately as he could, trying to learn something from
the way the debris lay around him. The police surgeon would
be able to tell him more, but it appeared that Hobbs had
been caught by surprise, and much further from the site of
the explosion than Newman.
Pitt was still staring at the surroundings when he heard
footsteps somewhere behind him. He turned and saw the
familiar figure of Samuel Tellman picking his way through
the plaster, water, and charred wood. Tellman had been
Pittโs sergeant when they were both at Bow Street. It had
taken them a long time to be comfortable with each other.
Tellman had distrusted anyone with a background as humble as
Pittโs but who spoke like a gentleman. To him it seemed that
Pittโs accent was affected, as if Pitt thought himself
superior. Pitt felt no reason to explain that his speech was
the product of having been educated along with Sir Arthur
Desmondโs son at the country estate where his father had
been gamekeeper. When his father had been transported to
Australia for a crime he had not committed, Pittโs mother
had remained as laundress, and Sir Arthur had seen the young
Pitt as a companion to his son and a spur to excel him in
class. The whole story was a wound that still ached on his
fatherโs behalf, and it wasnโt something he wished to
discuss with Tellman. But years of working together had
taught them a mutual respect, and loyalty.
โGood afternoon, sir.โ Tellman stopped beside him.
โGood afternoon, Inspector,โ Pitt replied.
Tellman stared down at the body. โIโm your liaison with the
police, sir.โ
Pitt had expected someone to provide liaison, partly because
he was Special Branch and not in the regular police, but
mostly because the victims were the policeโs own men. The
internal loyalty of the police force was not unlike that of
soldiers in an army at war. An officer facing danger had to
have an absolute trust in those who stood beside him, or at
his back.
Pitt nodded. It would be good to work with Tellman
againโยญbut he wished it were on anything other than this.
โLooks like they were right here when it went off,โ Pitt
observed. โNewman must have been closest to it.โ
โYes. I saw. What kind of a bloody lunatic would do this?โ
Tellmanโs voice was tight, as if he were controlling it with
difficulty. โI want freedom for all men, and food, and
houses, and the right to come and go as I please. But what
the hell good does something like this do? Which anarchists
did this, anyway? Spanish? Italian? French? Russian? Why in
Godโs name do all the bloody lunatics in Europe come and
live in London?โ He turned to face Pitt. โWhy do we let
them?โ His face was white, two spots of color in his lean
cheeks, anger in his eyes. โDonโt you know who they are?
Isnโt that what Special Branch is supposed to be for, to
prevent exactly this from happening?โ
Pitt hunched his shoulders and drove his hands deeper into
his pockets. โI donโt make the policy, Tellman. And yes, I
know who a lot of them are. Mostly they just talk.โ
The disgust and the pain in Tellmanโs face were more
powerful than words. โIโll find them and hang themโยญwhatever
you want to do about it.โ It was a challenge.
Pitt did not bother to answer. He understood the emotion
behind the words. Right at this moment he felt much the
same. He might feel differently when he learned who was
responsible. Some of the men branded as anarchists had done
no more than protest for decent pay, enough to feed their
families. A few of them had been imprisoned, tortured, and
even executed, simply for protesting against injustice.
Driven far enough, he might have done the same.
โWhy were these men here?โ he asked Tellman. โFive of them,
at this quiet house right on the park? It canโt have been an
inquiry. You donโt need five men for that. Thereโs no one
else dead or hurt, so the house must have been empty. What
were they doing?โ
Tellmanโs expression tightened. โI donโt know yet, but I
mean to find out. But if the investigation was to do with
anarchists, they would have told Special Branch what was
going on. So it must be something else.โ
Pitt did not take that totally for granted as Tellman seemed
to, but it was not the time to argue. โAnything known about
this address?โ he asked instead.
โNot yet.โ Tellman looked around him. โWhat about the bomb?
Bombs are your business. What was it made of? Where was it
put? How did they let it off?โ
Excerpted from Treachery at Lancaster Gate by Anne Perry
Copyright ยฉ 2016 by Anne Perry. Excerpted by permission
of Ballantine Books. All rights reserved. No part of this
excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in
writing from the publisher.
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