William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

uncovered about Durban could very easily be used to support such allegations. It was all capable of being interpreted against him as well as for him. Why had he pursued Phillips so erratically, harrying him one month, and then ignoring him the next? Was it to protect Reilly, or another boy like him? Or was it to further his own interests in the business, or worse, to elicit money from Phillips? Was it a personal war? Yes, of course it was! Everything pointed to that, and Orme knew it even better than he did, even if he did not know why. Durban had loathed Phillips with a driving passion. At times it had consumed him. His temper had exploded. He had gone far beyond the limits of the law. But he had also used his power of office to coerce people into what he wanted them to do. Some would say he had abused it.
    And who was Mary Webber? No one seemed to know. No one else had connected her name to the case anywhere.
    Why had Durban lied about his own origins? Was it the ordinary human weakness that tempts everyone to make themselves more important than they are, more interesting, more talented, more successful? What was his past really that he denied its entirety?
    Orme was still watching him, waiting for a word of encouragement. He must feel dreadfully alone, abandoned to a fight for which he had been given no weapons.
    “We have to learn the truth,” Monk said firmly. “Nothing else is going to help us in this. And we need to be careful whom we trust. There seems to be someone working against us.”
    “More than one,” Orme said unhappily, but his eyes were steady. “I'm sorry, sir, but there's something else. There's talk of the Metropolitan Police taking us over completely, so we don't even have our own commander anymore, just come under the nearest local station. We wouldn't have the river anymore, just our bit at the bank. The news papers are saying we're corrupt, an’ we need sorting out, most of us got rid of. They even said something in the House of Commons! As if we hadn't looked after them near a hundred years! No loyalty. One bad patch, an’ they're on us like wolves.”
    Doubt lurched up inside Monk, like nausea. They were almost at the far bank by the Wapping Stairs. They would reach it and have to go ashore in minutes, then there would be no more time to speak without the risk of being overheard. It would take only minutes to cross the open dockside and reach the station.
    Orme was waiting for him to make the decision whether to go forward, fight all the way, or retreat now before even more was exposed, and perhaps all reputation was lost.
    They were at the steps. The ferry bumped at the landing, wood against stone. There was no more time. Monk paid the ferryman and climbed out a step behind Orme.
    He could not ask anyone else to make the decision. He was the leader; he must lead. Durban would have; that was one thing of which he was certain. And evasion, willing blindness, was no way out. Whateverwas discovered, at least it was a way to move forward. Discretion was sometimes an answer, cowardice never. Which was this?
    He followed Orme across the quayside to the station, then inside, still without answering.
    They had to spend the rest of the morning dealing with the usual River Police business of thefts, smuggling, and the occasional violence. By the middle of the day Monk was back near Wapping again, knowing that with luck he would have most of the afternoon to think about Durban.
    Since the charge was that Durban had procured boys, first for Phillips, then later with the intention of using them in the same trade himself, he knew he should go back and retrace every connection Durban had had with boys, seek the proof his enemies would use, pursue it as ruthlessly as they would, and then hopefully not find it. For that he would need Scuffs help.
    “South bank, please,” he said to the ferryman. “Rotherhithe.”
    “Thought you said Wapping!” the man responded tartly.
    “I did. I've changed my mind. Princes Stairs, and wait for me. I'm going up to Paradise Place, and I'll be back.”
    The man nodded agreement.
    Monk settled back in the stern as they swung around and headed across the river. He knew from the man's manner that word had already spread that the River Police were in trouble. Even in these few hours their influence was beginning to erode.
    Monk had a sudden moment of helplessness, a sickening doubt that he would never stop the destruction. How could he find the skill to prevent the