by Clive Mullis
‘Wha…?’ said Dewdrop, looking up quickly.
‘So you two can start behaving as grown-ups.’
‘Did you hear that, Jethro? We’ve both been cast aside,’ said Cornwallis, aghast. ‘Women! Ha!’
Dewdrop, eyes wide, wondered how to respond as everyone looked towards him. Er…’ he said, hesitantly.
To save his blushes Cornwallis grinned at him. ‘I think perhaps we should return to the problem at hand. Cecil, you and Felicity can go down to the docks and meet up with Frankie; you’ll be after this Clarence fellow and we need to see what he’s doing and where he goes.’
‘Yes, Mr Cornwallis,’ replied Dewdrop, relief evident in his voice.
‘In the meantime, I have to see Goodhalgan again as it’s opening day tomorrow. Jethro, if you’re still willing to help?’
MacGillicudy nodded with a slight smile on his face.
‘In that case, can you see if you can find out a bit more about the Ship Masters Guild, you should be okay as no one will recognise you now.’
‘And me?’ asked Tiffany.
Cornwallis thought for a moment. ‘Actually, you can go with the commander. You might be able to keep him out of trouble.’
‘Thanks, Jack,’ said MacGillicudy ruefully.
‘That just leaves me,’ said Rose.
‘It does. I think you should stay here for now, coordinate between us all.’
‘Oh goody, there’s a few things I need to do here anyway.’
Cornwallis gave a greeting to the dwarf guard and then headed further down onto the platform below. This station still had a deal of work to do, to get it ready for when The Pipe expanded its network, which wasn’t too far into the future. He knew the route through the tunnels now and it wasn’t long before he entered one of the chambers, he even remembered to duck as he passed beneath the overhang. He expected this chamber to be empty so he walked across and then into another tunnel which branched into various destinations. Goodhalgan’s office-cum-chamber was just down on the right off the middle tunnel.
‘Ah, Mr Cornwallis,’ said Goodhalgan as he pushed open the door. ‘Wondered when we’d see you.’
Cornwallis smiled. ‘Never one to disappoint; no problems at all?’
‘None whatsoever. Everything is ready to go. I’ve sent the invitations to the Guilds and the Assembly and the booze is ready and waiting. Everyone gets a free drink, a nibble or two and a free ride.’
‘Just wish I felt as easy about it as you do. We haven’t found out what’s being planned to disrupt it yet.’
‘Maybe there’s nothing,’ replied Goodhalgan confidently. ‘I promise you, we can take care of anything should it happen, so you’re worrying needlessly. We are dwarfs, Mr Cornwallis, and down here we have total control.’
‘I hope to the gods that you’re right. If it’s any help though, Brooksturner is definitely involved with the disruption and so, we believe, is the Guild of Ship Masters. What they don’t like about you, I don’t know. We’re trying to find out.’
‘Interesting,’ remarked Goodhalgan. ‘I’ve had a letter from the minister; it’s here, somewhere.’ The king of the dwarfs rummaged in the drawers of his desk until he withdrew an official looking missive with the seal of the Assembly adorning it. ‘He thanks me for the invitation and gladly accepts. He informs me he will be bringing with him several guests including his secretary, Mr Phimp, as well as a few guild members including the Master of the Ship Masters Guild.’
‘Let me see,’ said Cornwallis, holding out his hand.
Goodhalgan held out the letter and Cornwallis nearly snatched it out of his fingers. He read quickly, scanning the obligatory banal bit at the beginning until he came to the meat of the letter, the names of those who would be joining him.
‘But you said you’d invited all the guilds.’
‘I have, but I sent a blanket invitation to the Guilds Hall as there are so many to invite individually, same as the Assembly. It would take weeks otherwise; far easier to do it this way.’
Cornwallis nodded. ‘But Brooksturner decided to invite these guild masters, presumably before the guild got the invite.’
‘Possibly, I did send to the Assembly first.’
‘So, we have: Frederick Wantlebury, Master of the Ship Masters; should have come here earlier, would have saved Jethro a bit of time; Gobber Stippins, Master of the Guild of Signwriters; Brisco Nugent, Master of the Guild of Lamplighters; Johnston Crew, Master of the Guild of Labourers; Micah Standish, Master of the Guild of Coal Merchants. Plus you have Phimp and a Clarence Fogg. I wonder if this is the same Clarence from the ship?’ He looked at Goodhalgan to explain. ‘There is a Clarence out on a ship on the river and Phimp went to see him; by all accounts, the man is a nasty piece of work, hates dwarfs.’
‘Nothing unusual there,’ said Goodhalgan. ‘Half of Gornstock hates dwarfs.’
‘Yes, but what is unusual about this one is that he is extremely short.’
‘Then I shall look forward to meeting this man, eye to eye, as it were.’ Goodhalgan chuckled at his little joke. ‘Eye to eye; haven’t done that with a long-leg for a long time.’
Chapter 33
‘You what?’ said Frankie, the incredulity apparent by the high-pitched last word.
‘Shaved,’ repeated Dewdrop. ‘New clothes too.’
‘But why?’
‘He said he wanted to freshen himself up.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Jethro; he’s always been old school. Half of him has always lived in the past.’
‘It suits him,’ chimed in Felicity as she gazed over the docks. ‘He doesn’t look half as intimidating as he did with a face full of fungus.’
‘He’s had that ever since I’ve known him. Bet he feels the draught now, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t know, speaking as someone who doesn’t need to shave.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you do. In that, you mirror Dewdrop here.’
‘Oi, I do shave; every couple of days,’ protested Dewdrop.
‘Could have fooled me, young Toopins. My Tulip’s got a hairier arse than your rosy-red cheeks.’ Frankie looked at each of them for a few moments then he grinned. ‘So, Jethro’s gone for a new look,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what’s brought that on?’
‘You’ll have to ask him,’ replied Felicity, sitting herself down.
Frankie chuckled at the thought of a clean-shaven commander.
‘So,’ said Dewdrop, changing the subject. ‘What do you expect to happen?’
‘Dunno,’ said Frankie with a shrug. ‘We is watching and we is learning; as it happens, I’ve already learnt something.’
‘What’s that then?’
‘Look at the ship we’re watching.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Those bits on the sides, they’re used fer drilling into the river bed. What they do is drill down into the rocky bit, then put a metal sheath over it, then pump the water out. They then sends some poor bastard down with a shovel and they make the foundations and put some poles in to reinforce things. They then build upwards until they get to the height they want. Clever, eh?’
‘How did you learn that?’
‘Fluffy just ‘eard it. A couple of blokes were talking out there.’ He pointed out towards a wharf.
‘Does that help with why we’re here?’
‘Probably not, but the little bastard we’ve got to follow is on that ship, so I suppose anything we learn could be helpful.’
Cornwallis’ warehouse acted as their lookout point, sitting by the front door and looking out through the hatches, one in the door and another in the front wall; some old empty crates utilised as chairs. Fluffy prowled outside on the wharf, hoping to pick up a morsel of food or a snippet of information.
‘Did you know,’ said Frankie, to no one in particular. ‘That this place used to belong to The Great East Company, stored tea here until they went bust. Back there,’ and he threw a thumb over his shoulder, ‘is a trapdoor which leads down to the dwa
rf tunnels. He, he, we had some fun with that a while ago.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ said Dewdrop with a glum expression. ‘That bloke who got his head ripped off; you bastards made me dive down to get it.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Felicity. ‘You mean you actually retrieved an actual head from the river?’
Dewdrop nodded. ‘I did: not nice that. I mean, have you ever swum in that river?’
Felicity stared at Dewdrop, her mouth hanging open, a respect bordering on adulation flitting across her face.
‘Made a man of you, boy,’ said Frankie. ‘I mean, not many people survive a ducking in there.’
‘But a head?’ said Felicity, still staring at her hero.
‘That were the easy bit,’ replied Dewdrop, smiling ruefully.
‘You can tell me all about it later,’ said Felicity reaching over and patting his hand. ‘It would seem there’s still a lot I don’t know about you, Cecil Toopins.’
‘Ay up,’ said Frankie, straightening his back. ‘Looks like something’s happening over there.’
A man waved from the ship and shortly a wherry pulled off from the jetty and began to row towards it.
‘Let’s hope it’s going to bring this Clarence geezer over to the shore as my arse is getting a bit numb now,’ said Frankie, standing up and rubbing the affected area.
The three watched as the little boat pulled alongside the ship and the figure of a man climbed down a ladder, a diminutive figure, somewhat lacking in height, but certainly not lacking in breadth.
‘Yes.’ Frankie punched the air in delight. ‘About bloody time.’
Fluffy appeared at the warehouse door at the same time.
‘Yer little man is on ‘is way over,’ said the cat, scratching his neck with his paw.
‘So we noticed,’ answered Frankie, adjusting himself in the trouser department. ‘You sure that’s the one?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Fluffy.
‘Fair do’s,’ said Frankie.
‘And yer other man is ‘ere too.’
‘What? Who?’
‘The one youse calls Phimp, over by that crane.’
Frankie peered through the hatch, trying to get an angle to see. Felicity just pushed open the door a tad and got the better view.
Fluffy eased through the gap, looking up expectantly at the three. ‘Any rats in ‘ere?’ he asked hopefully.
‘It’s a warehouse,’ replied Frankie. ‘Of course there’s rats.’
‘Oh good, time fer an early lunch.’
Fluffy tore off into the darker depths of the warehouse and within a few moments, various bangs and curses floated over, signalling a successful beginning.
‘I suppose that’s him done, then,’ said Dewdrop.
Frankie nodded. ‘Yeah, won’t see ‘im again today.’
Another bang and then a series of furious scratching noises.
‘Gives ‘im something to do,’ said Frankie, almost to himself as he kept his eyes on Phimp.
Phimp stood by a crane with his hands buried deep in his pockets, looking out, watching the progress of the wherry as it approached the shore. As soon as the boat hit the jetty, the passenger stood up and stepped out. He tossed a few coins into the bottom of the boat and strolled away without a backward glance, the wherryman eyeing the little man in a way that did not indicate a future friendly relationship.
‘He does look a mean bastard,’ observed Dewdrop with distaste. ‘He’s just elbowing everyone out of his way.’
‘Not a good thing to do, down here,’ said Frankie. ‘These dockers are not exactly known for timidity. He carries on like that then he’s gonna get a right-hander.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Felicity. ‘It looks like he’s got a big small man problem.’
‘Phimp doesn’t look happy,’ observed Dewdrop.
‘Not surprised,’ said Frankie. ‘He’s gonna have to get that Clarence out of here pretty quick or there’ll be a riot.’
‘Now he’s running forward with his hands up,’ said Dewdrop.
‘Yes, we know,’ said Frankie. ‘We can see him.’
‘And now he’s waving his arms and saying something to the dockers.’
‘Yes, that’s pretty obvious.’
‘And now he’s bending down and speaking urgently to the little man.’
‘Dewdrop?’ said Frankie.
‘Yes?’
‘Shut the f—‘
‘Cecil?’ interrupted Felicity quickly. ‘I think Frankie would like you to knock off with the commentary.’
‘Oh, right, sorry.’
‘No worries,’ said Frankie. ‘Oh, look, they’re walking off now.’
‘Yes, we can see,’ said Dewdrop and Felicity together, not quite hiding the triumph in their voices and the grins on their faces.
Frankie snapped his head up. ‘Oh, right. I see what you did there; that was very nearly funny.’
‘We thought so,’ said Felicity, flashing a smile at Dewdrop.
‘C’mon,’ said Frankie, with a shake of his head and wearing a wry grin. ‘Let’s get after them, they’re off now.’
Phimp and Clarence hurried away, Phimp still speaking urgently into space about a foot above Clarence’s head, towards the streets and alleys leading up from the docks and into town.
Chapter 34
Billboards and posters adorned the city with adverts of The Pipe and people were taking note of them, Cornwallis observed. He watched as several people stopped and looked and pointed and spoke in hushed whispers at the prospect of an underground transport system. He could tell that they were excited and he hoped that that excitement would shortly be turning into dollars for him and Goodhalgan. With his hands deep in his pockets, he continued watching, then lifted up his head to look at the sky; dark clouds floated above and he hoped that it wasn’t a portent of things to come.
Brooksturner and Phimp were a bit of a problem, he acknowledged to himself. They were planning something and he surmised that tomorrow would see the result of that planning when The Pipe opened for business: but what and how and where? If he knew either the what, the how or the where then they might be able to do something about it; perhaps they should have pulled Phimp in after all, and squeezed him until something trickled out. Maybe they could still do that, they still had a bit of time left and it would be sensible to use that time wisely. They would pull Phimp in, he decided; see what he had to say for himself.
With that decision made, he strode off determinedly, heading back to the office to see what had been happening whilst he had been underground with Goodhalgan.
He chewed the cud; cogitated, worked on scenarios, drifted between the possible and the probable, the expected and unexpected. As his mind dwelt on the problems, he didn’t notice the non-descript coach pulling-up ahead of him and the door swinging open and hanging there ominously, like the broken wing of a bat, creaking as it bounced against the hinges.
‘Mr Cornwallis.’ It was a summons, not a question and it emerged from the depths of the body of the coach like a blow from a hammer.
Cornwallis had heard that voice before and he had no wish to hear it again, but the cool calm tones of it penetrated his mind through his ears. A fairly benign voice as voices went; it didn’t threaten but it did insinuate. You ignored this voice at your peril, worse still, trying to ignore the owner of the voice could have unforeseen catastrophic results; if you did, then it was likely to be one of the last voices you heard.
He stopped walking and turned to face the open maw. ‘Yes?’
‘Would you kindly step inside, join me if you will.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah, since you put it like that, then it would be a pleasure.’
‘I do hope so, Mr Cornwallis; it has been too long since we’ve had a conversation.’
Cornwallis sighed, stepped onto the running board and entered the portable den with a sinking heart.
‘Door,’ said the occupant.
Cornwall
is reached back and pulled the door to, sealing him off from reality and the world outside, leaving him at the mercy of the man sitting on the bench.
‘Take a seat, Mr Cornwallis,’ said the man indicating opposite.
Cornwallis duly obliged.
The man raised the cane he held and tapped the roof, two short, sharp taps and the coach lurched into motion. Cornwallis studied the cane, certain that a slither of very sharp and pointy metal, deadly, much like the owner, lay inside.
‘Mr Hawk, so nice to see you again,’ said Cornwallis, heart dropping into his boots.
‘The pleasure is all mine, Mr Cornwallis. It’s been too long.’
‘And you just happened to be driving down this particular road just at the same time as I happened to be walking down it?’
‘Just so; a coincidence, a fortuitous circumstance because your name just sprung into my mind as we turned the corner and I thought that we should become reacquainted, and then suddenly, there you are. A most pleasing turn of events, don’t you think?’
Cornwallis smiled ruefully knowing full well that the Bagman didn’t believe in coincidence; he did believe in manipulation, fact and various persuasive techniques though.
The Bagman, slim, almost skeletal with a bald head and little wire glasses sitting on his large protuberant nose, perhaps wielded even more power than the Warden did. The head of the secret police, feared by all, his name whispered quietly in the hope that he didn’t get to hear you talking about him, knew what you were thinking before you had even thought of it. Nothing happened in Gornstock without his knowing; his network of spies and informants were legendary. He was a man in the know and you just had to hope that he knew that you weren’t worth the bother.
Cornwallis waited, consciously stopping himself from talking as he knew the Bagman liked silences as people tended to want to fill them up with words, some of which, the Bagman liked to hear.
The impasse continued as the coach rocked and rolled down the streets, each regarding the other like two combatants vying for position and control. Cornwallis determined not to be the one to break the deadlock.