Wild Intentions (The Legend of the Thief Taker)

by Chris Hales

  He chuckled, sipping from his ale. “And I imagine you can offer some help? Useful advice?”

  “We could come to some kind of an arrangement,” he said, obviously feeling more powerful and domineering.

  He finally understood why he had been called upon. Being seen with him would only improve Hitchin’s reputation. An associate of the Thief Taker would be far more approachable by the public. Jonathan pondered the possibility. It may also work for him. The benefits of being seen with a city marshal, even Charles, could be extremely useful. “If we did,” he said, “we would do so on my terms.”

  He nodded, slowly sipping from his ale. “I think that's agreeable,” he offered. “I even think working together again may be enjoyable for us both.” He would relish working with an equal. A compatriot.

  Jonathan, however, had other reasons for agreeing to Hitchin's request.

  32

  “And you agreed?” Matthew asked in a state of overwhelming confusion.

  Why Jonathan would want to walk with Hitchin again escaped him. He was sure the dastardly city marshal had reasons for asking this favour. He was sure those reasons were anything but good.

  Jonathan had his own motives for agreeing to this uneasy alliance. The perfect opportunity had been presented to allow him to keep a very close eye on Charles. All he need do now was explain the details in words Matthew would understand.

  “It's really not that worrying,” he comforted. “It allows us to keep a close eye on him.” This was certainly true, although Matthew knew how sneaky he could be. He threw an arm around his shoulders. “I may even discover a few truths about him. Truths which could be useful in orchestrating his downfall.” Such a thing was everyone's ultimate goal. He was a demon of the modern age. All of the good lives he had taken, all of the terrible things he had done, all of his great wrongdoings would lead to his death. Of this Jonathan was sure. Charles's similarity to another force sent from the depths of hell was too strong for him to deny. Jacob Wild had treated him in the same manner Hitchin treated the people of London.

  “Keep your enemies close...,” Matthew searched his memory for the correct phrase, “..., and your friends even closer?” Unsure if he had been correct in his thoughtful rambling he dismissed it, shaking his head.

  “Close enough,” he laughed, “but, you get the idea.” He knew no one would understand, but he had a plan. Charles would fall by his hand.

  People only needed to trust in him.

  33

  Their agreement started well. They would walk together as Jonathan visited the homes of those recently robbed. He would introduce Hitchin as a city marshal and an associate. No one considered it strange how Jonathan now had the assistance of a portly marshal.

  Much was learned during their time together and he discovered how desperate Hitchin truly was. The majority of his thieves had abandoned him, preferring to operate on their own, or joining Jonathan’s rapidly growing assortment of robbers. His days as a gang leader seemed to be over, as he spent each day and evening trying to return the few items his thieves did steal to their owners. It was not a success.

  Jonathan, on the other hand was enjoying exceptionally good business. Each day he would have at least thirty people knock at his door, looking to employ his services. His thieves were working in perfect harmony and Matthew’s assistance in keeping order was invaluable. On the bookshelves in his study was row after row of neatly bound, red ledgers which detailed every aspect of the Thief Takers business.

  In black ledgers he would keep record of his thieves. Their productivity, usefulness and habits were all written down, using the same code, so he could determine which thieves were honest and necessary. If a thief broke his trust, or angered him in any way, he would mark a red 'x' next to their name.

  This sinister scrawling often meant deadly repercussions. Such a thief would either be badly beaten by Matthew, taken to the court, or delivered to the gallows. It was Matthew's suggestion he employ such harsh tactics so he could keep order. He had little choice but to agree.

  Even Charles Hitchin noticed this cruel change in his attitude, but he admitted, on numerous occasions, how he had great respect for these methods.

  Jonathan wasn't sure how long their agreement would last and he knew Hitchin was only watching with intentions to steal what he had. Their relationship would end and he only hoped it would be a bloody conclusion to the monster who was Charles Hitchin.

  34

  It was mid-morning when Jonathan had a most unexpected visitor.

  Three loud knocks at his study door indicated Matthew was waiting beyond with a customer. Jonathan didn't move from his position before his bookcase. He simply allowed the person to enter and continued filing. Talking to the man who quietly sat he spoke loudly and clearly.

  “Please sit,” he said as an introduction. “I will be with you shortly.” Turning back to his desk he didn't glance at his guest simply rattled off his usually rehearsed pitter-patter. “If you can tell me the details of the robbery. Where it occurred, at what time, what was stolen and a description of the thief.”

  Looking up slowly he saw a smart man, dressed in a very elegant suit of foreign design. “I'm not here to report a crime, Mr Wild,” he said. “My name is Tom Edwards.”

  Hitchin's words rattled through his mind. He knew he would have to be very careful with this man. Was he here to investigate him? Was he present in the little house to deal him a terrible judgement? Did he know?

  Jonathan smiled with genuine amusement. “Yes, Mr Edwards, I'm familiar with you name,” he finally sat, ready for the game which would ensue. “What can I do for you?”

  Glad he didn't have to go through the rigmarole of explaining who he was he reclined in his seat examining Jonathan carefully. He did not appear concerned or troubled by Tom's presence. “I have been charged with a most troubling task, Mr Wild,” he explained. “The thieves of London have escaped all of the methods of the law. They are now rifer than they ever have been. It is my mandate to discover why. It is my duty to find the culprits.”

  Jonathan laughed. “I don't envy you the task.”

  Tom joined him in his chuckle, leaning forwards in preparation of his point. “It is also my intention to see what correlation crime has with those in the offices of the city marshals.”

  He gazed at him questioningly. “How can I help with this?” he asked innocently.

  He continued to chuckle quietly, considering how to place his point. “I understand you served under the liberty of the gate with Charles Hitchin,” he stated determinedly.

  “Ah,” sighed Jonathan, “..., Charles.” He had wondered when this topic would be brought forward. He considered the possibilities of the conversation.

  Tom seemed satisfied with his demeanour. He appeared comfortable, relaxed and patient. “I was wondering,” he continued, “what you made of our most famous of marshals.” He was hoping for a little insight into Hitchin's world. A taste of the corrupt. Everyone knew he often worked outside of the law. He used it to his advantage…, and he got results.

  Jonathan, however, knew what he was asking. It presented a problem. He could easily betray Hitchin's trust, he could tell Tom all of the things he knew Hitchin to be guilty of, but that was no fun. He would rather play with them both. “Charles is...,” he sought the correct response, “..., unlike any man I've ever met. The question is are you asking me if he's corrupt?”

  He shook his head half-heartedly. “Not exactly,” he said. “I know most city marshals are corrupt in some manner,” he hardly knew the truth. “I was simply wondering as to Mr Hitchin's level of..., law breaking.”

  He laughed hard. He had not heard something so hilarious in a very long time. Here was this unknown marshal, asking questions of the most depraved of the corrupt. “I've seen him break the law. I've seen him bend his own rules but, somehow, I think you really want to know if he allies himself with thieves and criminals.” Tom simply nodded his head, a curious smirk forming at the corners of
his mouth. “I have seen him consort with the criminal element, on numerous occasions,” he detailed. “If you're asking if Charles has a commanding role in matters of theft, I couldn't say. Any criminal seems too petrified of him to do business.” It would be more entertaining to see him join them in their games of deceit. All he need do was point him in the right direction. “I never saw him do anything contrary to the law, although…,” he said with a smile. “I'm almost certain he did business with many when I was not in his company.”

  That was all he needed. The smallest proof of corruption. Evidence a city marshal was operating contrary to the law. “Was it this suspicion which led you to this house, to this business?” he enquired.

  “So,” he said with amusement. “The tables have turned. Now it's my corruption which interests you.”

  He offered him a curious glare, hoping not to anger him too quickly. “Not at all,” he explained, “but, I was confronted with a worrying sight on entering this house,” Jonathan opened his hands, ready for the accusation, “You seem to have employed the services of a worrying man. A thief of the highest degree.”

  “Matthew,” he confirmed. “A man who has done much wrong. A man who leads you to believe I would consort with the criminals of London.” He simply shrugged. “I can understand why you think this,” he raised himself from his chair, walking around the desk to pace the room. Tom simply followed him with curious eyes. “Matthew and I met shortly after my release from Woodgate. It was then I developed my ideas to help the people of London. I had every intention of escorting Matthew to the Bailey but he pleaded with me. Offered me another option which could be beneficial to us both. He is my connection to the criminal world. He has proven himself to be most useful.” He did not appear as if he believed. To think a man as seemingly non-violent as Jonathan could haul Matthew to the Bailey was ridiculous. It would never happen.

  “So, you expect me to trust Matthew is a changed man?” He knew he was not only a thief. He was a powerful gang leader in addition. It didn't make sense.

  “Believe what you will, Mr Edwards,” he defended. “I'd much rather you simply told me what you wanted.” He stood by the window, gazing out at the Bailey in a calm manner.

  “The magistrates of this fair city are concerned,” he said. “They believe it is possible for a group of men, or even one man, to have united the gangs of London in some way.” He leaned forwards stretching his neck to look at Jonathan. “You were my first port of call. A man who seemed to appear from nowhere. A man who suddenly rose to fame and is more adept at his job than all of the city marshals put together.”

  He simply smiled, returning to his seat. He knew this would happen one day. He had prepared for it. “And you think your mystery gang leader could be me,” he stated plainly.

  “Is it?” was the expected response.

  He laughed. “No, it isn't, but, I can see why you've been led in this direction.” this was where he could fulfil his purpose. “If I were you, I'd be looking for someone with far more experience in such matters. I'd be seeking the person who appears far more dangerous and disturbing.”

  He could see where he was being led. “I should be looking for Charles Hitchin?” The possibility had struck him beforehand.

  “All I'm saying, Mr Edwards, is that you should consider the possibility.”

  If he could incriminate Hitchin he would be hailed as a hero. He didn't want to tell Tom the whole truth. Not so easily. It would be far more believable to allow him to come to his own conclusions. It may even secure him as an ally.

  Telling him of Charles and his ways didn't bother him at all. He knew Hitchin would gladly do the same to him. Encouraging his suspicions would make life far more interesting.

  Jonathan had started the ball of deceit rolling. Now it was Charles's turn to respond. He knew he would. That was his nature and it was inevitable. They were both surely out to destroy the other.

  Tom stood and moved to the door. His first impression of him had been good, although there was something worrying lurking beneath his respectful demeanour. He paused by the door, turning to him one final time. “I do have one more question, Mr Wild,” he said, watching him very closely. “I hear you have delivered a number of thieves to the court. I would have thought a man in your position could deliver a damn sight more. Why is it that you're not delivering more thieves to the Bailey?”

  He remained emotionless. “I am not an officer of the law,” he admitted. “I lack the authority to do such a thing.” This was a lie. He was toying with him. He knew the authority of the law better than most.

  “Any man can make an arrest, so long as they have proof.” Jonathan appeared as if he was not aware of this fact, whereas in reality he was well aware of where his durastictions lied. If he was seen to make official arrests personally it would make his standing in society far more powerful.

  “Is that so?” he asked, his mind working fast. “And what about suspicion?”

  “You would need a warrant from the courts, or a city marshal.” It seemed, to him, that a warrant would enable him to search a thief's property. Legally.

  “Such as yourself?” he asked.

  “Why do you ask?” he enquired, stepping back into the room.

  Jonathan grinned, never forgetting his professional manner. “I am aware of a number of suspects. Men who may be responsible for a great number of robberies in London.” Tom appeared far more interested at the prospect of bringing multiple thieves to trial.

  He smiled, walking back to him. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a neatly folded paper. Unfolding it he showed it to Jonathan. “This is a warrant,” he explained. “You will need this document for any search and seizure of property. Within reason,” he laughed, knowing all too well most marshals avoided such idiotic regulations.

  “Would you be willing to fill out a warrant for me?” he asked.

  He carefully studied Jonathan for any sign of deception. He found none. Happy with the apparent good intentions of this rather odd man he left him in peace. Jonathan, however, was quickly making plans and mentally securing his future.

  By taking possession of this simple paper Jonathan was sowing the seeds to a most complex scheme, ensuring that everything he wanted was achieved. He refused to fail and this would ensure his success, should anything go wrong.

  Let the games commence...

  35

  The simple truth of the matter was both Charles Hitchin and Jonathan were secretly trying to outdo the other. Neither spoke of it but they both knew it was the case. It was an uneasy alliance.

  Hitchin knew Tom was asking about him and he also knew Jonathan had tried to implicate him in the process. None of it mattered. Nothing could be proved.

  The Thief Taker, likewise, was well aware he was desperately trying to increase the ranks of his own gang. He pined for the power of his heyday and would do anything to attract thieves to his camp. It was all a question of power and thus far Jonathan was winning.

  They still took walks together, each pretending to be kind and loyal. It was simply a way of keeping an eye on the other. They both knew this agreement wouldn't last forever and sooner or later one would stab the other in the back. The only question was…, which would be first?

  36

  It was during one of their nightly walks when Hitchin caught sight of a thief who was desperately attempting to hide under the porch to a large townhouse. Hitchin didn’t hesitate and immediately sprang into action. The thief panicked and darted along the streets, Hitchin following in a close pursuit.

  The thief knew his efforts to escape were destined to fail. Plump and unfit he may have appeared, but those who knew Hitchin well were steadfast in their belief he was more able than most imagined. As he drew closer he prepared to strike. Throwing himself at the robber he caught his legs and forced him into a tangled heap. Rolling in the mud at the entrance to a small park the thief desperately fought for his freedom. He was having none of it and hoisted him off the ground and threw him uncere
moniously against the iron fence which contained the park.

  Jonathan followed the sounds of the scuffle and cautiously approached his iniquitous colleague. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder he attempted to stop the beating.

  “Charles,” he pleaded, “please stop. I know this thief.” He released his grip, allowing the thief to wipe his bloody nose and sooth his injuries. Jonathan gazed at the thief with a curious expression. Two deep scars ran either side of his mouth, causing his features to appear distorted and hideous. It was a stark reminder how dangerous the criminal world could often be.

  “What you up to, Smiler?” Jonathan asked.

  The aptly named thief shied away, hoping to escape the imminent questioning. He took a hold of the scruff of his neck, Hitchin hovering menacingly behind. Smiler’s mouth twitched nervously, causing his frightful grin to curl deeper into his features. Finally he answered his question. “Nothing, Jonathan,” he mumbled. “I… I was…, just…” He smacked him about the face, forcing him to stop and consider his present situation.

  “You still running for Michael,” he pressured.

  He nodded frantically. “Yeah, just normal stuff, ‘ya know.”

  He stepped back, allowing Hitchin to bear down on him once more. He held his hands in the air, hoping his surrender would stay the beating which was brewing. The city marshal rushed at the thief, punching him swiftly in the stomach.

  Jonathan wanted more. “Answer my questions, Smiler, or Charles may have to inflict a great deal more pain.” Hitchin grinned and cracked the knuckles on both hands. “I haven’t seen Michael in a while,” he continued. “Been a little concerned he might be running for himself.”

  He shook his head wildly, still trying to find a way out of his current predicament. “Nah,” he defended. “He’s just been quiet after the incident.” This was more than believable. A thief losing a hand was unthinkable. Jonathan couldn’t imagine how he was coping and wondered whether the incident had forced Michael to contemplate his very existence.