Chapter 14

"What a Bloody mess!"

A Lieutenant from Scotland Yard said this as he walked into view of his newest assignment. He had been called to a Derbyshire estate to look over the double murder of a man and his sister early on a Sunday morning. The dead were country gentry, the children of a once renowned diplomat who had died in Poland. The family had lived in this Derbyshire valley, probably for centuries. A servant and a veterinary coming into the house to report on a new foal had found the bodies. The stables were set far from the house, so the two men dealing with the horses had neither seen nor heard anything amiss.

Lieutenant Granger Chatsworth was a veteran investigator who had been there and seen almost everything over twenty years of service. His mustache drooped over drooping jowls, hiding a thin serious mouth, presently compressed against the sight of the first bodies he would examine. His clear blue eyes had hardened from many such sights, but nevertheless, this crime scene set in the luxury of a fine old manor house was about as bad as they came.

The report had all the earmarks of an assassination. Chatsworth looked everything over. The bodies of a gray gentleman and a blonde woman, thirty-ish, were crumpled against a wall on the far side of the room. He didn't get too far in his observations when several others walked into the room, unexpectedly.

The newcomers showed him their identification and asked for a briefing. Chatsworth had been surprised, to say the least, British Secret Service investigators would come nosing around his crime scene and said so. With a hard edge to his voice, he asked, "Aren't you out of your territory here? The local police called us in to investigate this. Scotland Yard needs no help in handling murders."

"Two of the deceased were ours," the lead man said. He was a man of middling age with serious dark eyes. The other two were silent sentinels at his back. "Loren Fogg, the young man found outside with his sister, resigned due to injuries last year. The lady on the floor there, too," indicating a once lovely blonde. "Roberta Fogg was also an agent until recently. The Fogg family has a long history with the service. We will be investigating to determine whether this was related to service activity. Miss Fogg's father was assassinated in a similar fashion a month ago."

"Oh, lovely,' Chatsworth thought. 'Cloak and dagger come to the country. It is just what I don't need with the country locals seeing spies and Germans behind every bush since Dunkirk.'

The lead agent then looked down at the two dead people on the floor. The Fogg twins, found outside, he had known since childhood. They had been hit with machine gun fire, but not as badly as these two. These bodies were torn apart.

From the looks of the house and this room, the agents and police had deduced the trail of a firefight. It had started at the door, moved on to the front parlor. These two appeared to have retreated to the study. The heavy oak door had been shot open. The man and woman sheltering inside looked like victims of a firing squad. Their bodies had settled against the wall underneath a large family coat of arms, half sitting up against each other. Blood liberally coated the splintered paneling behind them, their clothing, the rug… It was ghastly, even for seasoned men.

The lead agent didn't recognize the man beside Miss Fogg. The report claimed Miss Fogg had requested a background check on someone claiming to be a distant relative. They could find nothing about him in the first effort and nothing since. "There should be one other person here," the agent said, addressing Lieutenant Chatsworth, "a visiting Frenchman."

"Yes, we haven't found him," Chatsworth confirmed. "We are still searching the house and grounds."

"Are you considering him a suspect in this?"

Chatsworth shook his head. "No, far from it. Mr. Jules Verne is considered either kidnapped or a missing corpse."