Wild Intentions (The Legend of the Thief Taker)

by Chris Hales

  He nodded his head, a knowing expression passing over him. “Had it ever occurred to you, Thomas, you were being led to believe such things? That it was all part of a larger scheme and the magistrates were aware of it.”

  He chuckled uncomfortably. Could it be so? Were the claims he was not only a gang leader but additionally the riverside killer be a simple ruse to allow him to catch the real culprits? He had trouble believing Hitchin was so intelligent. He knew he could be devilishly devious, but he still had questions to answer. He opened his mouth to object but Lawson quickly silenced him.

  “Release him,” he ordered again. “It is not up for debate, Thomas.”

  Tom had little choice. It angered and frustrated him but he knew he had no option but to comply. As Lawson strode away he slapped the wall angrily. Again he had been halted just as progress was being made.

  63

  Collins relaxed as Tom entered the room. Hitchin made him uneasy, sitting there as if he were a predator preparing to strike. Tom patted him on the arm and turned to Hitchin.

  “You're free to go.”

  Standing he limped to Tom and stood nose to nose. “About bloody time,” he swore loudly.

  He giggled sarcastically, hoping to anger the older marshal. “This seemed like a lot of trouble to go to,” he stated flatly.

  “All part of the plan,” he growled knowingly. “Fooled you, didn't it?”

  He barged past Tom, leaving the two city marshals restraining their anger and distrust. Tom knew, deep inside, how he was guilty of something. He was sure there was a dark truth lurking behind the man, ready to spill free. He would be there to catch him, even if it took an eternity.

  64

  Magistrate James Lawson hurried back to his study, shutting and bolting the door behind him. He hoped he would be able to avoid Hitchin that day. As far as he was concerned their relationship was a great burden, a trial which seemed never to end.

  Yet they were inexplicably tied to each other in a relationship which had been both terrible and painful, never ending in its calamity. Lawson could not deny it didn't, sometimes, have its uses but more often than not he usually cowered in fear for Hitchin's next depraved move.

  Recently his very existence had been put in great peril as Hitchin insisted he assist in the running of his gang. He had, unwillingly, been his middle man, minding all of his gang's stolen goods and visiting a number of trusted pawnbrokers. A magistrate was less suspicious than even a marshal.

  The sad fact was it was Lawson who had initiated this damned relationship. A terrible agreement which had tied him to the dark dealings of the City of London. A crude arrangement which had forced Charles Hitchin upon him.

  It was during his early days as a magistrate when James Lawson found himself in a troubling situation with a prostitute who threatened to tell the world of their sexual union. He had soon discovered Charles Hitchin found great sympathy with this predicament. It was he who, for a price, despatched that sneaky whore. It was she who became the first victim of the riverside killer.

  His recent actions had troubled Lawson greatly, but he always claimed there was a larger plan at hand. A way to deal with Jonathan Wild.

  All he had to do now was explain the current state of affairs to his fellow magistrates. To tell them of Hitchin’s complex plan to tarnish his name in the hope he could find the real criminals.

  He had to protect him in order to ensure his secrets remained buried. That was the way of things and he would do anything to keep this arrangement for as long as Hitchin required.

  65

  He always knew he would see Charles Hitchin again. He was sure he wasn't beaten so easily. As Hitchin was drawn away with the other thieves Jonathan felt a great swell of pride at his abilities. Tom was probably going to be a great adversary but for the time being he preferred him as an ally.

  He had hoped to see him during his visit to the Bailey two days later. Among the marshals and constables who trod the gleaming halls Tom could not be found. Delivering a thief to the court ushers he imagined a cantankerous Hitchin being hanged and left to rot. No news had been heard of his death and most believed he had, once again, escaped the gallows.

  Jonathan signed the usher’s paperwork and turned only to be confronted with a horrifying image. Charles stood over him bearing a grimace of amused displeasure. Smiling, he rested a large hand on his shoulder.

  “Jonathan, my boy,” he gently walked him from the ushers desk to the main doors of the Bailey and around the corner. “It was a game well played. Congratulations,” he laughed.

  He knew he often hid his murderous intentions under a veil of pleasure. Fortunately he knew he was relatively safe at the Bailey. “Charles,” he commented, trying not to sound too nervous. “What a surprise.”

  “Walk with me,” he said as he marched him out of the courthouse. Those who passed would have been forgiven if they thought the two men friends as he patted him on the back. “You played well, although I was disappointed you were so..., predictable.” Jonathan joined him in his friendly laughter.

  “And here I was thinking you were the one who had made all of the mistakes.” He laughed again and forced him into a dark corner of the adjoining street, free to treat him as the man he truly was.

  “Don't fuck with me, Jonathan,” he threatened as his hand curled around his collar. “I can't be beaten. I'm untouchable,” he began to laugh once more. The Thief Taker desperately tried to cast his hands away. “I'm not like you. I don't have any friends to hurt,” he smiled insidiously. “I don't have any family to threaten.” He winced at the stressing of the word family. He wasn't sure if there was any meaning to it. “Nothing is ever what it seems.”

  A cold sensation ran up his spine. He suddenly felt fearful of what he may have created. He knew what was being said. Charles Hitchin had let his name be tarnished and thrown about London as if it were a dirty rag. Now it appeared this had been purposeful. “Very clever, Charles,” he congratulated. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

  If he had allowed his name to be blemished it meant the game was certainly changing. It was a gamble worthy of recognition. He could clearly see his thinking. By allowing Jonathan to incriminate him for various crimes he could then dismiss those declarations as being part of his greater plan. An element of his catching the real criminals. It would clear his name with both the city marshals and the magistrates allowing them to regard him as a master tactician hoping to rescue their city. For the first time in many months Charles had surprised him.

  He tightened his grip, refusing to let the matter die so easily. “You tried to rat me out, you sneaky little prick,” his voice growled, threatening to let his anger slip free. “You would have had me done away with,” finally he released him, pushing back into the wall with force, “but let me tell you,” he seemed to relax, his face suddenly turning more friendly and accepting. “I'm not so easy to get rid of, Jonathan,” he punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. “You ever play with me again and I'll skin you before I put you out to dry.” He finally backed away, allowing him to rise and assume a more defensive posture. “I think the point has been made.”

  Hitchin left him considering both his pain and his failure. It seemed Charles Hitchin was, indeed, back and prepared to fight for supremacy. If they were ever going to be free of him and his ways Jonathan would have to rethink his entire strategy.

  66

  “What point?” screamed a flabbergasted Mary. She lay in bed with Jonathan, amused at how his sexual eagerness always seemed to rise when he found himself distracted or angry. Mary relaxed within his arms, listening to his story of the meeting with Hitchin earlier that day.

  He began to laugh, although she knew there was little he actually found amusing. “He's telling me he can't be touched,” he pulled her closer, relishing in her essence. “That there is nothing we can do to him.” He pondered the conundrum, desperately seeking an explanation to his recent activities. “Jesus!” he swore loudly. �
��How long has he been planning this?”

  She watched as he jumped from the bed and rushed for his clothes. “I don't understand, Jonathan.”

  He continued to chuckle, rubbing his head in confusion. “I really didn't think he was that clever.” Mary looked after him, desperate for an explanation to his random thoughts and irritation. “He designed his downfall, all of those little things we thought were stupidity,” he slapped his forehead in surprise, “they were all planned. He planned it all.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “He's proving to us there is nothing which can touch or impede him. Even in the face of complete ridicule and apparent cataclysmic failure.” He paced the room as he dressed. Mary couldn't fathom whether he was simply annoyed or excited. “He did it to prove this, not only to us, but to the magistrates and the city marshals. And he wanted me to know he's back, ready and willing for a fight.”

  She climbed from the bed, approaching him with outstretched hands. “Jonathan, please calm down.” He embraced her and kissed hard.

  “He did it to himself. All to prove to me he was completely able to destroy himself and then easily clear his name.” He continued to chuckle. Mary was starting to worry.

  “So,” she asked, “what do we do about him?”

  Jonathan picked her off the floor, pulling her in to kiss again. “He's playing games with the wrong man,” he chuckled. “I'm not so easy to scare off.” Depositing her back on the floor he made his way to the door. “Nothing changes. We continue to do what we've always been doing. Right now we're in a fight to the finish,” he kissed her again, “and I'm not going to lose.” He pondered the problem one final time, his skin tingling with each thought. “It’s all about his magistrate,” he grumbled. “It’s all about James Lawson.”

  Dealing with him could well be the final piece to a most complex puzzle. Now he could see what Charles was trying to say. He was desperate for a fight. A battle where the spoils of war would be all which he had built. There was nothing which could prevent him beating both Hitchin and the legislature. He would continue to grow and Hitchin would always struggle to keep up.

  The legend of the Thief Taker General

  67

  The troubles with Charles were soon forgotten. Jonathan chose not to dwell on his actions and ability to escape the law. Everything seemed to return to normal and the riverside killer once again seemed to thankfully rest of an evening.

  His business only grew and continued to sprawl out of control. It didn’t take long for his reach to pass the borders of London and sprawl into England itself. No man could deny Jonathan Wild was quickly becoming a phenomenon. He was, truly, a hero to the people.

  The good honest public of London loved him and strove to admire him at every turn. There was nothing the Thief Taker could do wrong. He would walk the streets of an evening, publicly chasing down thieves and taking them to the Bailey. A number of his own trusted thieves had chosen to assist him on these nightly strolls. As a mark of allegiance to the law they had been instructed, by Jonathan, to wear a red sash when in the company of the Thief Taker. This allowed them to largely escape the interests of both city constables and marshals.

  Hitchin had not been seen in weeks, preferring to avoid the attention of those who would do him harm. In almost every way he was surpassing his old mentor’s expectations and it felt good.

  68

  Jonathan had always known Hitchin had the unfaltering allegiance of Magistrate James Lawson. The reasons for this alliance still escaped him and he promised himself he would deduce the details of this most appalling of conundrums. Such a move would have to be measured with the most careful of hands, but as always Jonathan had a plan.

  He sought the attention of a popular court usher, one who was tied to the courts of Lawson. He discovered all in London were open to bribes and persuasion. So long as the price was right. The usher allowed Jonathan entry into Lawson’s private study where he rifled through the magistrates personal notes and musings. Stealing one note of rambled thoughts and his written signature he placed it securely in a breast pocket and allowed the usher to shoo him from the room.

  Nothing could be done with such a garbled personal note, but Jonathan was secretly sowing the seeds of a much larger scheme, a puzzle where the victor would be the man who prepared himself the best.

  69

  As the months passed Jonathan’s standing in London only grew and grew. He was grasping the attention of even those who chose not to regard his methods as lawful. He would deliver thieves to the courts each day, but always ensured it was those who had angered him in some way, held no allegiance, or belonged to Hitchin. He was quickly becoming as admired as any other man of the law. More so even.

  It was a great surprise, one day, when Jonathan found an official messenger at his door. This messenger was sent by the legislature, under command of the Lord Mayor of London himself. Jonathan was duly instructed to be in attendance for a special hearing in the Bailey the following morning.

  He couldn’t fathom what this hearing was about and he only felt guilty tides of pain course through his flesh when he thought about it. Maybe they had finally discovered the truth about him and the way he worked. Were the gallows threatening to rapidly fall upon his head and fragile neck? Nevertheless, he prepared himself to attend and dispelled any fears he had the best he could.

  On arrival at the Bailey, he was quickly shown into a courtroom and instructed to approach the bench. The courtroom was filled with all manner of esteemed individuals. Magistrates, court ushers, solicitors and city marshals. The atmosphere didn’t seem harsh, demanding or punishing. Jonathan relaxed as the most senior magistrate took to his seat.

  “Mr Jonathan Wild,” Magistrate Davidson said in his deep, booming voice of authority. “By order of the legislature, for services to the City of London, you are to be granted all of the rights and privileges of a city marshal.” His nervous guilt quickly declined and was replaced by a strong sense of pride. The people who surrounded him seemed to gaze on him with pleasure and hope. “Further to that, the Lord Mayor of London has agreed to place upon you the title of Thief Taker General,” Jonathan’s state only improved. His heart fluttered proudly and his head felt light and airy. “Of London and of Great Britain,” he concluded.

  Jonathan bowed his head in thanks as those who circled him applauded. He couldn’t quite believe it. All of his efforts had culminated to this. A great honour which had never before been bestowed. He was the first. It would give him status and standing which had never been known. The power which now lay at his fingertips was almost incalculable. Jonathan Wild had been elevated to a position of power which no other in the land could boast.

  As he stood, those who watched flocked to him, patting him on the back and shaking his hand. Jonathan found it incredible how a penniless buckle maker from Wolverhampton had become London’s favourite son. He was gathering more recognition than he had ever dreamt.

  Yet, while caught up in the congratulatory vigour of the room his thoughts only led him to Charles Hitchin, wondering what state of shock his new appointment would place him in. Another who would never have expected such an engagement was his father. A cruel man whom Jonathan knew would totally dismiss this elevation.

  70

  As he was drawn from the room by his assortment of admirers he noticed a man watching carefully from the side. Tom followed him closely with his eyes, refusing to let any element of the Thief Taker’s actions escape his notice. Jonathan stopped, turning to those who surrounded him, expressing his pleasure and their misfortune at staying in his company no longer.

  Approaching Tom he held his hand out in a friendly manner. He ignored it but beamed a smile.

  “Jonathan,” he said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” he agreed as he finally shook his hand. “I didn’t see you in there.”

  Tom shook his head. “I didn’t want to spoil the occasion for you. I thought your spirits should be high during such an auspicious m
eeting.” Jonathan thought he understood. He knew he had his concerns about him. That he knew there was something not quite right about the Thief Taker General.

  “Very kind,” announced Jonathan, “but, I’d have been glad to have you present.” He slapped him on the back and began to walk him along the now deserted hallway. “I know you consider us enemies,” he said bluntly. “That you think us adversaries who are pitted against each other. This need not be the case…”

  He laughed, breaking away from him and glaring at him defiantly. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said. “I know who you are and what you do,” his accusation was softened by his friendly and jovial expression. “I can’t prove any of it and now I doubt any man would listen to my fears about the Thief Taker.” He placed a warm hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, hoping to soften the apologetic words he spoke. “I may not trust you, Jonathan, but I do like you. I simply want you to know…, that I know.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” he laughed, “but I can promise you I have no interests other than upholding the law.” Tom shook his head in disbelief. “I know you won’t trust me but I can assure you with this new appointment things will change.” He drew his staff to glint in the sunlight, hoping it would strengthen his point. “Sure, I’ve done bad things, illegal things but I promise you it will change.” He smiled and took hold of Tom’s hand, shaking it hard yet again. “I know you’ll still be watching me and I look forward to proving you wrong.” It was a lie of the noblest intention.

  Jonathan walked away leaving him to struggle with the depths of his own thoughts. He had always known Tom Edwards was far quicker than most other men. It all came down to being able to prove the other was guilty of crimes they had all been continuously committing. Unlike Charles, however, he didn’t have a magistrate on his side. Instead he had virtually all of them kissing his boots and a reputation which couldn’t be touched. If Tom wanted to bring him to justice he would have to try a lot harder.