Moriarty

‘I was fortunate. Allan Pinkerton, the most famous detective in America and the founder of the company, and his sons, Robert and William, were actively seeking recruits. It may surprise you to learn that police experience was not a requirement. In fact, it was the other way round. Many senior police officers in America first learned their trade with Pinkerton’s. Honesty, integrity, reliability … these were the qualities that counted and I found myself being interviewed along with former bootmakers, teachers and wine merchants, all hoping to better themselves in the company. Nor did my youth count against me: I was well presented and I had a good knowledge of the law. By the end of the day I had been recruited as a special operative, working on a temporary basis for $2.50 a day plus bed and board. The hours were long and it was made clear to me that my employment could be terminated at any time if I was found wanting. I was determined that it should not be.’

Briefly, I stirred my soup with my spoon. A man at a table on the far side of the room suddenly broke into loud laughter, I think at his own joke. It struck me that he laughed in a way that was peculiarly Germanic, although perhaps it was an unworthy thought.

I began again. ‘I am moving quickly forward, Mr Jones, because my own life story will be of little interest to you.’

‘On the contrary, I am immersed.’

‘Well, let me just say that my work was found to be more than satisfactory and that, over the years, I rose up within the ranks. I will mention that I returned to Boston and that I was reunited with my father, although he never completely forgave me. He died a few years ago, leaving his practice to my brother and a small sum to me. It has proved useful for, although I am not complaining, I have never been highly paid.’

‘The enforcement of the law has never been particularly well remunerated in any country, to my knowledge,’ Jones returned. ‘I might add that criminality pays more. However, you must forgive me. I interrupt.’

‘I have investigated fraud, murder, counterfeiting, bank robberies and missing persons — all of which are prevalent in New York. I cannot say that I have used the same methods, the same extraordinary intelligence that you demonstrated to me this morning. I am dogged in my approach. I am fastidious. I may read a hundred witness statements before I find the two conflicting remarks that will lead me to the truth. And it is this, more than anything, which has led me frequently to success and brought me to the attention of my superiors. Let me tell you, however, of one investigation that was entrusted to me in the spring of 1889. Although I didn’t know it at the time, it was this more than anything that was eventually to bring me here.

‘We had a client, a man called William Orton, the president of Western Union. He had come to us because his company’s lines had been intercepted and a series of completely false and damaging messages were being sent to the New York stock market with devastating results. Several large companies had been brought to the very edge of bankruptcy, and investors found themselves with losses stretching into the millions. The chairman of a mining company in Colorado, receiving one of these wires, went up to his bedroom and shot himself. Orton thought it must be the work of an extremely malevolent and cold-hearted practical joker. It took me three months and an endless series of interviews to discover the truth. It was, in fact, a remarkable and completely original form of embezzlement. A consortium of brokers, working out of Wall Street, were buying up the stocks of the companies that had been affected — acquiring them, of course, at rock-bottom prices. In this way, they were making a fortune. The operation required nerve, imagination, cunning and the bringing together of a great many criminal talents. At Pinkerton’s, we knew at once that we had never encountered anything quite like it. Eventually, we arrested the gang — but the leader, the man who had initiated the whole enterprise, slipped through our fingers. His name was Clarence Devereux.

‘You have to understand that America is a young country and as such it is still, in many respects, uncivilised. I was actually shocked by the lawlessness that I found all around me when I first arrived in New York, although I suppose I might have expected it. How else could a company like the Pinkerton Detective Agency have become so successful if it wasn’t needed? The tenement where I lived was surrounded by brothels, gaming places and saloons where the criminal classes congregated and boasted quite openly about their exploits. I’ve already mentioned forgers, counterfeiters and bank robbers. To those I might have added the countless footpads who made it dangerous to venture out at night and the pickpockets who committed their crimes quite brazenly in the day.