"Just what do you have to say for yourself?"
The low growl made the hapless young constable shrink in his seat, obviously torn between trying to avoid Lestrade's glower and wanting to vent his irritation at Mr. Holmes' note. He had evidently not expected anyone to learn of his actions—or for the family to go to the detective. A moment's thought blurted the first excuse that came to mind.
"We were busy, and they didn't have any information! No name. Barely a description. We can't do anything with that."
Lestrade's already low opinion of the Yard's youngest constable dropped considerably further. Marlow would have done better to leave the gate of excuses to children and own his actions—especially after the last time he had gone on report. They had discussed this months ago.
"You know better." The words escaped as another growl, and Lestrade's knuckles whitened on the edge of his desk to prevent his hands from impacting Marlow's uniform. He needed a minute alone. "You did not believe they lacked information. You were probably talking with the seamstress up the street, were you not?" Shame finally pushed past Marlow's initial defensiveness. "I thought as much. Your leave tonight is cancelled. You will be first through that door, first to encounter what you cast aside as not worth your time. You are also on night shift on Montague for the next two months, in addition to whatever the superintendent assigns. Report to him now."
Constable Marlow pulled a face that announced his displeasure at canceling a long-awaited date night, but a sloppy salute sent him out the door without comment. Lestrade nearly fell back into his chair, head in his hands.
"That's no orphanage, Inspector…There's at least twenty kids in there, and they never stopped screaming."
Less than an hour ago, this had been a typical morning. Less than an hour ago, his only plans for today had been to finish the Rodriguez puzzle and maybe his reports from last week. Less than an hour ago, he had not known of a den of horror on Montague Street.
Less than an hour ago, the Irregulars' leader had burst through his door with all the urgency of an endangered child. Tim would have raided the place himself if he thought fifty children could have rescued those young ones.
And Mr. Holmes' note had followed shortly after. This was Bachelorwood all over again.
"Constable Marlow denied Paul Thatcher's statement yesterday. Said statement and an hour's work would have led to the Haven."
The same Haven they would raid tonight, where far too many children fought for every sunrise. Everyone had looked up when a terse order had called Marlow into his office, and they had lingered nearby despite Lestrade's efforts to lower his voice. Gregson, at least, would probably ask him about this later. Probably Hopkins and Bennet as well. He did not often allow bystanders to hear any part of someone else's discipline. Such practice only bred resentment.
Except this involved children. Marlow had sentenced those young ones to another twenty-four hours of torment.
Dead. Too many dead, and all hours ago. The other man's silence said far more than the most cutting words ever could.
He would not repeat his mistake. Bad enough that his error so many years ago might have helped this den form, that foolish young man had prioritized flirting over rescuing children. Lestrade would need to keep himself under control for both the raid tonight and the coming conversation.
A smug leader. Escaped clients. So few survivors. Mr. Holmes had been correct. They should have moved immediately.
"Lestrade?"
"Later." A hand reflexively waved away the concern, and only then did he realize that Marlow had failed to latch the door. Gregson stood just outside, a frown at Lestrade's evident distraction joining the posture that blocked him from view.
No matter. He needed to follow Marlow anyway. A moment ignored Gregson's silent questioning to skim that old file, then he brushed past the other inspector on his path toward the maze of hallways.
"Hello, Lestrade. What can I do for you?"
Superintendent Dalor looked up from a batch of paperwork, obviously surprised at the sudden intrusion. Lestrade did not often breach the unspoken request of privacy provided by a closed door.
Except Constable Marlow should have beaten him here by several minutes. The latch clicked behind him as shock registered an empty office.
"Did Marlow report to you?"
Confusion mixed with consternation to furrow Dalor's brow. His pen landed softly on the desk.
"No, he has not. Why should he have?"
Of all the—
A hurried knock interrupted Lestrade's building anger, then Marlow entered without waiting for an invitation. Rigid attention met Lestrade's dark glare and Dalor's growing understanding.
"My apologies, sirs. Inspector Hopkins waylaid me, too excited at cracking the Fuller case to listen when I tried to tell him I would get back to him in a minute. Superintendent Dalor, I am to report to you for neglecting my duties. I allowed a personal interest to distract me when I should have listened to a man's report of an attempted kidnapping."
"I see." Dalor's words remained carefully toneless, proving he did not yet have enough information to make a decision. "Lestrade, where do you come into this?"
"I discovered the negligence," he replied, "or, more accurately, Mr. Holmes brought it to my attention. Here."
One hand rotated the slip of paper to a readable orientation, and Dalor's expression darkened at the information contained in the short note. While word would not filter through the lower ranks until they could be sure it would stop at the lower ranks, Lestrade had already informed both Dalor and the other inspectors of tonight's raid. Dalor knew what Marlow had ignored.
"Constable, what consequences has the inspector already set?"
"My leave tonight is cancelled, sir," was the even reply. Part of Lestrade noted—and took pleasure in—the lack of disappointment he had expected to color those words. Marlow knew he deserved as much. "I am on night shift on Montague for two months and will be first through the door tonight."
"Fitting," Dalor agreed with a glance at Lestrade. "Do you realize what you did by refusing to take Mr. Thatcher's account?"
"Aye, sir." Whether Hopkins had truly delayed him or not, Marlow had at least taken the time to own his actions. The shame Lestrade had glimpsed in his office finally reached the candid words. "I effectively ignored a call for help and left nearly two dozen children in danger, betraying my oath as an officer. They spent another night in that place because of me."
"Yes, they did, and we have no way of knowing if your actions cost one or more children their lives."
Marlow failed to completely stifle a flinch. While claiming his mistake showed a higher degree of maturity than did excuses, the acknowledgement would receive no leeway from Dalor. Lestrade had always respected the superintendent's straightforwardness.
Especially since Dalor tempered that blunt approach with careful thought. Silence fell as the older man studied both Lestrade and Marlow.
"I cannot fully address this without knowing the rest of the situation," he finally announced. "For now, Constable, all leave is canceled for the next two months, you will be my personal assistant with anything related to this case—both during the raid itself and for everything it will entail in the coming weeks—and because you have been reprimanded for similar incidents before, you are demoted one pay grade until the end of next month. We will determine what else the situation warrants either tomorrow afternoon or the next morning."
Marlow never broke the rigid attention in which he had spent the entire conversation. "Yes, sir. Am I to begin work with you now, sir?"
"Yes. Inform whomever you were supposed to help today that you have been reassigned. Dismissed." Dalor waited for the door to close before directing a quieter question at Lestrade. "Did you have any idea…"
"No," Lestrade answered when Dalor let the words trail away. "I did not learn of that despicable place until Timothy arrived, and I did not know Marlow's part in it until I read that missive. I thought we corrected this last time."
"I thought so as well." Dalor paused but changed the topic rather than voice whatever he debated. "I will have everything in place by midday, so make the announcement at half twelve in the internal conference room. We will hold our strategy meeting after you have a list of participants. Do you need anything from me before then?"
He did not. A nod in place of the salute Dalor despised saw Lestrade on his way back to his own office.
Less than an hour ago, this had been a normal day.
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