‘I would never touch my wife’s money,’ said Beyton, piously.
‘Marriage to the dear lady puts it within your reach.’
‘That’s irrelevant, Mr Holland.’
‘If you say so,’ returned the other. ‘As to the money, I will have it ready for collection tomorrow morning.’
Beyton was disappointed. ‘I’d hoped to take it away with me.’
‘Another night will make no difference, surely.’
‘You are right,’ said the clerk, pretending to be was happy with the arrangement. ‘I’ll call here tomorrow.’
‘How
is
life in the higher echelons of government?’
‘It has its drawbacks, Mr Holland.’
‘Public service must bring rewards of the heart.’
Beyton smiled but he was squirming inside.
Even in daylight, the ramshackle warehouse had an aura of danger about it. Since he’d been told to be wary of it, Chevy Ruddock made a point of locating it when he went on patrol. Surrounded by litter, it stood beside the river like a ghost of its former self. Ruddock eyed it with suspicion.
‘That’s the place, Bill,’ he said.
‘You don’t need to tell me that, Chevy. I’ve been here before.’
‘Have you seen any trouble?’
‘I’ve seen nothing else. Whenever there’s a dog fight, a cock fight or something else on there, the place is in uproar and we can’t do anything about it.’
‘Mr Yeomans told me to impose law and order.’
‘Then he’s talking out of his you-know-what.’
William Filbert gave a throaty laugh. He was a tubby man in his fifties with ruddy cheeks and a drooping moustache. Having been a member of the foot patrol for many years, he’d learnt how to cope with difficult situations.
‘The trick is to wait,’ he explained. ‘If you see two villains knocking lumps out of each other, never try to arrest them because, if you do, as sure as the sun rises, they’ll both turn on you. No, Chevy, you wait quietly until one has battered the other senseless
and is puffing like a grampus himself, then you move in. Let a man tire himself out before you arrest him.’
‘That’s not always possible, Bill.’
‘It’s not possible here, I grant you,’ said Filbert. ‘That warehouse is like the seventh circle of hell some nights. When people spill out of there, there’ll be a dozen brawls at the same time. That’s when you use your common sense and walk past as quickly as you can. Impose law and order? Yeomans must be joking. It’d be nothing short of suicide.’
‘What about the rest of the river bank?’
‘You have to watch your back, Chevy. Water rats are everywhere and I mean the two-legged ones as tall as you and me. They come out at night to sniff and nibble.’
Ruddock didn’t like what he was hearing. He’d been on patrol before in the sort of residential areas where there was comparatively little trouble. The Thames was very different. It was at once the city’s lifeline with the world and its cesspool. Inns and ordinaries lined its banks. Brothels and gaming houses offered entertainment and false promise. Vibrant by day, it was even more hazardous at night. The dilapidated warehouse was a symbol of the dark underbelly of the capital.
As they strolled on side by side, they were met by what looked at first like a small child. A man’s deep voice came from its throat and they realised that they were talking to a dwarf in ragged attire and with a cap pulled down over his forehead.
‘Good day to ya, gintlemin,’ he said, obsequiously. ‘I’ve good news for ya.’
‘What is it?’ asked Ruddock.
‘Be rand ’ere termorra noight.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s a big fight on.’
‘There’s always fights along the river,’ said Filbert.
‘This one is spishul,’ said the dwarf. ‘Be at the ware’ause termorra.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Donkey Johns’n is goin’ to beat the Black Assassin.’
‘I’ve heard of Johnson before,’ said Filbert. ‘He beats everyone.’
The dwarf extended a palm. ‘I’m tekkin’ bets that ’e’ll eat the man alive. Want to ’ave a wager, gints?’
‘No, we don’t.’
‘It’d be easy money for ya.’
‘It’d be even easier money for you, you scoundrel,’ said Filbert, pushing him rudely aside. ‘If we were stupid enough to place a bet, we’d never see a penny of our winnings. Be off, before we arrest you for trying to defraud us.’
‘I’m as ’onest as the day is long,’ protested the dwarf. ‘I’ve been tekkin’ bets for years and I allus pays art. Come on, gints. I’ll give ya good odds.’
‘And I’ll give you a good kick up the arse if you keep bothering us. You’re a public nuisance. Crawl back into whichever hole in the ground you sneaked out of.’
Filbert walked off with Ruddock at his side. Neither of them saw the repertoire of crude gestures being made behind their backs by the angry dwarf.
‘You were very harsh with him, Bill,’ observed Ruddock.
‘It’s the only language they understand.’
‘Who is this Donkey Johnson?’
‘He’s a bloodthirsty bruiser who’ll take on any man for money and knock his brains out to please the crowd. I’ve been past here before when Johnson is fighting. The noise from that warehouse is deafening.’
‘Is he going to win tomorrow’s fight, then?’
‘Yes,’ said Filbert. ‘I don’t know who this Black Assassin is but, when it’s all over, his friends will be collecting money for his funeral.’
Moses Dagg had two valuable attributes as a boxer. He had a punch that could knock most men unconscious if it landed in the right place and he was extremely nimble. As they sparred in the
sawdust-strewn
area in the warehouse, Tom O’Gara was made all too aware of his friend’s skills. Dagg was so light on his feet that he was able to dodge any punches that O’Gara threw at him. In fact, the latter spent most of the time hitting fresh air. His frustration made him try even harder but Dagg was equal to anything that came at him, ducking and weaving and, when he had to take a blow, fending it off expertly with his forearms. When O’Gara was panting for breath, his friend brought an end to his opponent’s misery by delivering an uppercut that caught him on the chin. O’Gara sank to the floor as if he’d been poleaxed.
‘That was wonderful!’ said Fallon, clapping his hands.
‘I don’t think Tom would agree,’ said Dagg, stooping over his friend. ‘Give me a hand to get him up again.’
They hauled him to his feet then lowered him into a chair. Fallon had a bucket of cold water standing by and he laughed as he poured it over the loser’s head. O’Gara slowly recovered.
‘What happened?’ he said, rubbing his chin.
‘Moses put you to sleep.’
‘It was like being kicked by a horse.’
‘Horses are stronger than donkeys,’ said Fallon, ‘as Johnson will find out tomorrow. He’ll have the surprise of his life.’
‘He looked slow to me,’ said Dagg.
‘Yes, Moses, he is. While you prance on your toes, Donkey
Johnson lumbers. The trouble is that you’re not only fighting him. If he starts to struggle – and I’ve seen him in difficulties before – he forces his opponent up against the boards so that his friends can get in some sly punches from behind. Remember that. Don’t let him pin you to the boards.’
‘Point out who these friends are,’ said O’Gara, grimly, ‘and I’ll make sure they don’t interfere. I’m not having Moses attacked from behind. Anything else he should know, Dermot?’
‘Johnson spits and bites.’
‘I’ve met plenty who’ve done both,’ said Dagg, ‘so I’m used to it.’
‘And there’s no holds barred so he’ll try to wrestle you to the ground and use his feet on you. Watch out for his heavy boots.’
‘They’ll slow him down.’
‘Moses will dance rings round him,’ said O’Gara.
‘Johnson’ll come charging out at the bell,’ predicted Fallon, ‘and try to finish you off very quickly because he’ll soon be short of breath. Tire him out by moving him around then go in and finish him off.’
‘Thanks for the advice,’ said Dagg.
‘One last thing – we go to the fight with weapons. If things get out of control, we’ll have trouble. I’ll bring daggers and shillelaghs for both of you.’
‘We couldn’t do this without you, Dermot.’
‘No,’ said Dagg, ‘we owe you thanks.’
Fallon grinned. ‘I’m the one who should be thanking
you
. Moses. I’ll not only get a share of the prize money, there’ll be winnings to collect from the wagers I place. The pair of you will have more than enough money to pay for your passage back to America.’
‘We’re not going until we’ve finished our business here.’
‘That’s right,’ said O’Gara, ‘our friends are still locked up in
Dartmoor. We want justice for them and for us. And you should remember that
you
want justice as well, Dermot. You have to collect a huge debt from someone.’
‘Oh, I haven’t forgotten Donal Kearney,’ Fallon promised him. ‘I’ve a couple of lads keeping an eye on him for me. I’m just letting him stew a little first.’
Kearney had been so badly beaten that he was unable to work. Tended by his wife, he lay on the bed with his hands held against his cracked ribs. Having cleaned the blood from his face, his wife gently dabbed at his bruises with a wet cloth then mopped his brow. His two black eyes made him look as if he’d just cleaned a sooty chimney. He was more beleaguered than ever. His neighbours let him know what they felt about him by banging on the door as they went past or by shouting abuse at him. Out of concern for their safety, he’d forbidden his family to venture out. Kearney scrabbled around for a means of escape from his ordeal. Indelibly marked as a police informer, he could not move freely around the tenement any more. His one hope lay in getting someone on his side that might keep the others away from him.
Groaning at the effort, he got up from his bed and rose to his feet. His wife begged him to stay with them but Kearney was purposeful. Letting himself out of the room, he collected some cruel jibes from children playing on the stairs. He tried to ignore their ridicule and went to some rooms along the corridor, slapping the door with the flat of his hand because his knuckles were too raw to use. When the door opened a few inches, the face of Mary Fallon came into view.
‘What do
you
want?’ she asked in surprise.
‘I just want someone to listen.’
‘Dermot said that I wasn’t to speak to you.’
‘I want you to take a message to him, Mrs Fallon. It’s very urgent. Tell him that it wasn’t
me
who told the Runners that you were hiding fugitives here. I’d never lift a finger to help them. Everyone knows that. I despise the Runners. They’re like vermin to me.’
She tried to close the door. ‘I have to go, Mr Kearney.’
‘No, no,’ he said, putting a foot in the gap to keep the door open. ‘All I ask is that you give me a fair hearing.’
‘My husband’s made up his mind. He’ll never change it.’
‘He might if you tell him the truth. Explain to him that it was someone else who was behind that raid. I was miles away and I can prove it.’
‘Go away, please. It’s dangerous for you to be seen here.’
‘Don’t
you
turn your back on me as well.’
Mary was resolute. ‘It’s what you deserve, Mr Kearney.’
‘Oh, it is, is it?’ he asked, letting his anger take over. ‘Very well, if you won’t help me then I won’t help you.’
She was disturbed. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘You’ll soon see.’
Determined to get his own back on the Fallon family, he lumbered towards the staircase, intent on telling Micah Yeomans where they could find Fallon’s wife and force her to disclose the whereabouts of O’Gara, Dagg and her husband. He didn’t realise that Mary Fallon didn’t actually know where the men were hiding. In his rage, he simply wanted Fallon, the man most likely to kill him, to be arrested and locked up. Kearney and his family could then flee the tenement and live elsewhere.
After lurching down the steps, he realised that he couldn’t even leave the building. Two of the young men who’d beaten him earlier were lounging either side of the doorway. They stiffened as he approached.
‘Go back to your hutch, Kearney!’ snarled one of them.
‘You’re going nowhere,’ said the other.
‘Our orders are to keep you here until Dermot Fallon comes for you. Now take yourself off or we’ll kick the daylights out of you again.’
It was no use. All that Kearney could do was to creep upstairs again.
Charlotte Skillen liked to think that she made a useful contribution both to the running of the gallery and to the disparate assignments that came their way. She was therefore thrilled when her husband wanted her more directly involved. Instead of being cooped up in an office, she would be working beside him for once. When they were getting ready to go out that evening, he outlined his plans, though he didn’t disclose Beyton’s name or his reason for wanting the necessary woman liberated.
‘The exchange will take place tomorrow in Hyde Park,’ he explained. ‘It will be in the middle of the afternoon.’
‘But there’ll be crowds about, Peter.’
‘That’s why they’ve deliberately chosen that time and place. The more people who are about, the better it is. They’ll act as a kind of screen. With so many bodies there, it will be more difficult to see what’s going on.’
‘What am I to do?’
‘Keep your eyes peeled, my love,’ he said. ‘I’ll watch from one direction and you’ll do so from the other.’
‘Does the gentleman have the money?’
‘He assures me that he’ll pick it up from the bank in the morning.’
‘What have you told him?’
‘I’ve said that he must follow my instructions to the letter. I don’t
want him looking over his shoulder to see where I am. That will ruin everything.’
‘It’s a lot of money to hand over,’ she said. ‘He must care for Mrs Horner a great deal if he’s prepared to part with that amount.’ She nudged him. ‘Would you pay a large ransom if I was being held somewhere?’
‘I’d pay every penny I owned, Charlotte, but I’d also make sure that I got it back very quickly once you were safe. Your price is above rubies. As for this gentleman,’ he went on, ‘this will be a supreme test of his nerve.’
‘I thought you told him that he’d get the money back.’