Dark Remains: A Maggie Power Adventure (Maggie Power #1)

Chapter 9 - Spies

Chapter 9 - Spies

It was the sound of raised voices which awakened Maggie.

Turner's large bed had the lightness of a cloud, when compared to the hard floor she was used to sleeping upon. Once her head reached the pillow, she sank into a wonderfully deep sleep.

But within an hour or so she was upright and attentive, listening to the raised voices from Mr Turner's living room. She looked to Thomas lying next to her in the bed but he had not stirred. She, on the other hand, had become a light sleeper ever since they had moved to the old, dockland shack.
She stepped from the bed and moved to the slightly ajar bedroom door, avoiding the strip of light creeping in from the living room.

"You have not been straight with me, Turner," shouted a well-dressed man. Standing beside Mr Turner was another man, older than the first, bigger and not as well dressed as his friend. He wore an eye-patch over his left eye and had the look and manner of a subordinate.

"There is something brewing, Turner," continued the well-spoken, younger gentleman. He had an easy air of authority, and when he spoke and asked his questions, it was with the tone of an interrogator. "Power was worried sick about his children you say. Ha! Poppycock! I don't believe a word of it."

Turner was busy fiddling around inside the desk drawer. "Here you go, Mr Whitmore. Twenty-five pounds for now. I shall pay you back the rest in due course."

"You're no longer working for us?" asked the older man, his voice coarser, his accent heavy with the stains of the London streets.

"Tonight gentlemen I have realised the error of my ways. I have seen the cowardice of my past actions. Therefore, I shall no longer betray my comrades, whatever force or inducements are applied," Turner said.

He attempted to hand over the money to the younger man, Whitmore, who scowled and removed his hands and let the notes fall to the floor.

"We know Power has been smuggling letters to you. Our request is simple: we would like to see them. We want to know what he was thinking, what his fevered imagination was planning," demanded Whitmore.

"Mr Whitmore, the information I gave you some weeks ago is all I have to go on. Fathoming the state of Power's mind is really quite simple. He has lost everything. His wife is dead and he is thousands of miles apart from his children. As I told you back then, he was quite despondent - if not suicidal."

"His wife is dead?" asked Whitmore. "You had not mentioned this before."

"Did I not tell you of this news some weeks back?" asked Turner.

"No. And what's more, you know you did not!" replied Whitmore.

"I was searching for the family, as you requested, and I was informed by a landlord at a boarding house that the mother recently passed away."

"Why then have you withheld this information from me?" asked Whitmore.

"It must have slipped my mind. Anyway, our friend Mr Power is not well in the mind. He cared only for his family -"

"What cares he of family?" said Whitmore. "He cares only for his ideals. He is a violent revolutionist who wishes harm to Her Majesty and this entire nation. Something is brewing, Turner. And I want to know what you and these Chartists are up to!" he continued.

"Read our newspapers. Everything we plan is out in the open. We are a democratic organisation."
Whitmore scowled, "No, Turner! I want the truth. Where is Power and what is he planning?"

"You say he has escaped, I very much doubt that. He may be missing, but my money is on suicide. He probably killed himself, through torment I shouldn't wonder. And I'll tell you again, I have not heard from him in months," responded Turner.