The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  Harry started the car and once again Freddie cowered down in his seat. Two minutes later they drew up outside the studio, and Freddie scrambled out, hurrying across to open the door. Harry, with a quick glance along the quiet street, followed him inside. As he stepped through, the door closed behind him and he felt something cold against the back of his neck. He froze. Sudden light flooded the room and Harry saw two of the men who were waiting for them, each with a gun, one trained on Freddie, and knew a third held a pistol against his own neck.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ said Rat Ratcliffe. ‘Nice to see you both.’

  9

  Harry weighed up his options and decided that there weren’t any. Three against two would be difficult odds at best, and he could see that Freddie was going to be worse than useless.

  He took a step forward and half turning, saw that it was Mick Derham behind him. Trying to ignore the pressure of the gun, which had shifted to the small of his back, he forced a smile to his face and said, ‘Mr Ratcliffe, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I need you to introduce me to Bull Shadbolt.’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ Mick Derham growled in his ear. ‘Bull don’t want to talk to you. You’re just...’ His voice trailed away as the Rat raised a hand to cut him off.

  ‘Vic, is it? Or should I call you Harry?’ Ratcliffe’s eyes were fixed on Harry’s face.

  Returning his gaze and very much aware of the gun at his back, Harry tried to keep his voice steady and replied, ‘I answer to either.’

  ‘Search him, Manny!’ Ratcliffe ordered, and while Mick kept him covered, the third man, Manny, searched him thoroughly, removing the knife Harry always carried in his boot.

  ‘Nothing else, boss,’ Manny said as he pocketed the knife and turned back to stand over the quivering Freddie.

  The Rat was not a big man. He had a round face with a blob of a nose; his receding hair gave him a high forehead and prominent ears, but it was his cold, grey eyes that instilled fear; eyes that spoke of the callous killer.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Harry it is then. The thing is, Harry, Bull wants to know what you’re doing on his patch.’

  ‘And Denny Dunc wants to know what Bull’s doing on his,’ replied Harry.

  Ratcliffe raised an eyebrow. ‘Does he now?’

  ‘And he’s sent me to find out. He’s been hearing that his lady hasn’t been treated with the respect due to her. I’ve got to deliver messages from Denny to Bull.’

  ‘Have you now?’ drawled the Rat. ‘And what might those be?’

  ‘For his ears only.’

  ‘Maybe he won’t want to hear them.’

  ‘Can you risk that?’ Harry held his gaze. ‘Could be worth Bull’s while to listen.’

  ‘What was you and this pillock doing here tonight?’ demanded the Rat, with a sudden change of subject. ‘What was your business?’

  ‘None of yours,’ answered Harry, for which Mick Derham brought the barrel of his gun up under Harry’s chin.

  ‘Steady, Mick,’ growled the Rat, ‘don’t want to blow his head off... not yet we don’t.’ He turned his attention to Freddie. ‘Well, dickhead, you gonna tell me what you and Harry boy was up to? I mean, Bull’s been good to you, giving you protection an’ that. He won’t be pleased to hear you’ve gone back to working for Denny Dunc without so much as a by your leave. Without telling him, without making sure he got his cut.’

  ‘Wanted some papers,’ Freddie squeaked. ‘For Denny’s missus and daughter.’

  ‘Did he now? And what sort of papers was those, Fred?’

  ‘Passports, birth certs, driving licences.’

  ‘And you done them?’

  Freddie nodded miserably.

  ‘How much did he pay you?’

  ‘A ton.’

  ‘Only a ton for all that work, Freddie? That’s slave rates, that is.’ Ratcliffe fixed Freddie with a gimlet eye.

  Freddie lost his nerve and said, ‘That was up front.’

  The Rat gave him a wolfish grin. ‘So, what’s he owe you, then?’

  ‘Another nine hundred,’ Harry said before Freddie could answer. ‘I don’t care who I pay it to, you or Freddie, but I want them papers.’

  ‘Where’s the papers, Fred?’ demanded the Rat.

  Freddie’s eyes flicked to the battered-looking bureau in the corner of the room.

  ‘Better fetch ’em out then.’ The Rat jerked a thumb at the desk and Manny, again holding the gun in Freddie’s ribs, encouraged the shaking Freddie towards it. He raised the lid, pulled out a brown foolscap envelope and held it out to Ratcliffe.

  The Rat took it and tipped the contents out on to the table. Harry could see that all the documents he’d asked for were there. Ratcliffe shuffled through them and then put them back into the envelope.

  ‘You been a bad boy, Fred,’ he said conversationally. ‘Bull’s not gonna be a happy man when I show him this lot.’ He sniffed dismissively. ‘Tie him up, Manny, gag him and leave him. He won’t cause us no more trouble.’

  Manny did as he was told and when Freddie was well and truly trussed, the Rat said, ‘Now tie Harry-boy’s hands and take him out to our motor.’ While Mick kept him covered, Manny tied Harry’s hands securely behind him. The Rat turned to Mick and said, ‘You go and pick up Harry’s car and bring it over to the Bull’s yard.’ He gave Mick a sharp look as he added, ‘The money’ll be in it somewhere. Make sure it’s all there.’

  Mick nodded and disappeared.

  Harry allowed himself to be hustled out of the studio to a car parked in an opposite driveway. It was past midnight now and the street was deserted. Manny kept the gun pressed into the small of Harry’s back, and Harry made no move to break free. He knew he wouldn’t get a yard. He also guessed that he was going to be taken to see Bull Shadbolt. The Rat dare not finish him off until Shadbolt had heard whatever message Denny Dunc had sent him. Harry had challenged him to risk it, but he wasn’t about to accept that challenge. There’d be time to deal with Harry Black if necessary, later on.

  Harry was put in the back seat of the car and Manny and the gun got in beside him. The Rat slid into the front, and started the engine. It sounded very loud in the silent street, but both the Rat and Harry knew that no one in this district would chance looking out to see something they shouldn’t.

  ‘Why didn’t you top that Freddie bloke?’ Manny asked Ratcliffe.

  ‘Too messy,’ came the reply. ‘Don’t want the rozzers involved. We got what we came for, and Freddie won’t make the same mistake again. We’ll collect that ton off him soon enough.’

  Harry watched out of the window as the car drove through the late-night streets. He recognised several places, but still wasn’t sure where they were going. Suddenly the car was lit with flashing blue light. Harry turned his head to see a police car close up behind them.

  ‘Shit!’ muttered the Rat and pulled over to the side of the road. ‘A word from you, Harry, an’ you’re a dead man.’

  Manny’s gun was pressed firmly into Harry’s ribs now, and Harry, who had for a moment thought this might be deliverance, sat back in his seat with his eyes shut.

  A policeman left the car behind and approached the driver’s window. Harry heard the Rat wind the window down, though he’d left the engine running.

  ‘Evening, officer,’ he said. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No, sir, just checking you knew you’ve a brake light missing on your car.’

  ‘Have I? No, I didn’t know. I’ll get a new bulb first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Would be wise, sir,’ said the policeman, as he shone a torch into the back of the car, the beam resting on an apparently comatose Harry and a dozing Manny. ‘Late-night party, was it, sir?’

  ‘Lat-night cards,’ replied the Rat. ‘On our way home now.’

  ‘Good night then, sir,’ said the policeman, ‘and don’t forget to change that bulb.’

  The Rat put the car into gear and pulled away, leaving Sergeant Unwin standing in the road, watch
ing him.

  ‘Was it who you thought?’ his colleague asked as he got back into the car.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Unwin, ‘Rat Ratcliffe. And he’ll know I sussed him when he discovers both his brake lights work. Can’t do much about him, he’s too canny, but it doesn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. Another couple of hopefuls in the back, Manny Parkes and a bloke I didn’t recognise. We’ll report it when we get in.’

  For the rest of the journey Harry kept his eyes closed. It helped him to think. He reckoned he was on his way to meet Bull Shadbolt and the meeting certainly wasn’t going to be quite as he’d planned it. He knew he’d have only one chance to get this right. If it came right down to it, he, like Freddie as far as Shadbolt was concerned, was expendable. He thought briefly about Freddie and wondered when Eric would come looking for him and set him free. They’d be lucky if they could get away before one of Shadbolt’s heavies came looking for the hundred pounds Harry had already paid.

  The car turned off the road and came to a halt in a yard behind a darkened building. The Rat killed the engine and Manny, opening the back door, prodded Harry with the gun.

  ‘Out,’ he growled, ‘an’ no funny business.’

  Harry got out. With his hands tied behind him, he stood waiting in the darkness; pointless to try and make a break, that way he’d wind up dead for sure.

  The two men led him across the yard to a door at the back of the building. As they reached it, a second car swung into the yard, its headlights illuminating the place, and Mick Derham joined them as they went inside.

  The place appeared to be a pub. Harry was led through a deserted bar and up a flight of stairs. At the top was a landing with three doors off it. A man had been sitting outside one of them and hearing footsteps on the stairs had come to his feet, a gun in his hand, barring the way. When he saw it was the Rat, he pocketed the gun.

  ‘Bull’s got company just now,’ he said, with a nod at one of the doors. ‘You’ll have to wait till he’s free.’

  However, at that moment the door behind him opened and a scantily clad young girl came out. She squeaked as she saw the waiting men and hurriedly disappeared through one of the other doors. Moments later she was followed on to the landing by Bull Shadbolt, tucking his shirt into his trousers.

  Gordon Anthony Shadbolt was indeed a bull of a man, well over six feet tall with a barrel chest, tree-trunk legs and the arms and fists of a boxer. His bullet head was as smooth as a billiard ball. ‘Bull’ suited him and was the name by which he was known everywhere.

  He paused on the landing, looking at Harry and his captors, and grinned. ‘Who’ve we got here, then?’

  ‘Harry Black alias Vic Merritt,’ replied Ratcliffe. ‘Says he’s got messages from Denny Dunc. Been doing business with Freddie on our patch.’

  ‘Has he now?’ Bull fixed Harry with cold, dark eyes. ‘Have to discuss that with him, then.’ He jerked his head towards the third door. ‘Bring him in the office.’

  The office was in darkness except for the moonlight shining through two windows that looked out over the yard. Manny drew curtains across these, and then across a glass door which, Harry saw, led to an iron fire escape. Then, safe from any prying eyes, he switched on the lights. The office was a large room with a desk before the windows, some upright chairs and a couple of armchairs beside an empty grate. There was a bar in the corner and Bull went to this now, pouring himself three fingers of Scotch before seating himself behind the desk. The Rat pushed Harry down onto a chair in front of the desk and leaving Mick to cover him, dropped into one of the armchairs.

  ‘Think you can untie his hands, now, Mick,’ Bull said as he settled himself and took a sip of his drink. ‘He ain’t going nowhere.’

  It was with obvious reluctance that Mick cut through Harry’s bonds, allowing him to rub his wrists in an effort to get the blood flowing again.

  ‘Now then, Harry,’ Bull said. ‘Hound says you been a busy little bugger last few days. So, let’s hear it... all of it.’

  Hound! thought Harry. He’d heard of him. That’s how they’d caught him. Bloody fool, he chastised himself, not spotting Hound on his tail.

  ‘Well, Harry? Messages from Denny. What’s all that about, then?’

  Harry looked across at the big man and taking a deep breath he said, ‘Well, the first one is don’t trust Mick Derham.’ He felt, rather than saw, Mick take a step forward, but a glare from Bull made him retreat again. ‘Seems he was right there,’ Harry went on. ‘So, you don’t need him to hear what Denny’s suggesting.’

  For a long moment there was silence and then Bull said, ‘Get lost, Mick.’

  Mick stared at him and then said, ‘You going to let this little Kraut dictate to you, Bull?’

  ‘No,’ retorted Bull. ‘Nor you, neither. Beat it.’

  Red-faced and furious, Mick turned on his heel and left the room.

  ‘Manny,’ said Bull, ‘don’t need you, neither. Come back in the morning.’

  ‘Right-ho, boss,’ and Manny, pocketing his gun, followed Mick out of the door.

  ‘So,’ Bull took another slurp of his whisky, ‘what’s these messages? Denny think he’s coming back, does he?’

  Harry looked across at him, and for a moment their eyes locked. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Denny ain’t coming back. He’s got cancer. Six months, tops.’

  ‘Christ!’ Bull knocked back the rest of his drink and holding out his glass to the Rat said, ‘Get me another.’

  Ratcliffe took the glass and refilled it.

  ‘That’s why he wants his missus and daughter to go out to Australia,’ Harry went on. ‘He’s in Sydney, but if Dora and Bella travel under their own names, it might tip off Scotland Yard where he’s living. The Australian cops’ll find him and he’ll spend his last months back inside.’

  ‘An’ he’s sent you to what...?’

  ‘Denny still has business over here, you know that. Mick was supposed to caretake for a while, but...’ Harry shrugged. ‘Anyhow, he’s got a proposition for you, and Grey Maxton too.’

  ‘Maxton?’ Bull Shadbolt’s face darkened. ‘What’s it got to do with him?’

  ‘You know as well as we do that Maxton’s been moving in on Denny’s territory, same as you. All Denny wants is for his ladies to be taken care of after he’s gone. He has a proposal which might suit all three of you.’

  ‘Sounds unlikely, but I’m listening.’

  ‘He knows neither of you wants a turf war. Could well happen if you both lay claim to Denny’s manor. He’s suggesting that you agree a split. Take over all his businesses between you. Protection, girls, betting, black market, and the couple of legit enterprises for laundering the cash. Maxton’s south of the river, you’re East End. You two agree a split on the territory, but until Denny dies the profits is split three ways.’

  ‘Now you’ve told me he ain’t coming back,’ said Bull, ‘what’s to stop me simply taking over all his business?’

  ‘Grey Maxton,’ replied Harry. ‘He wouldn’t let you take over, any more than you’d let him.’

  ‘And if Maxton and me agree the split, what’s to make us pay out Denny’s share?’

  ‘Denny still has clout over here,’ said Harry.

  ‘Who says so? Even that toerag Mick Derham has seen where the future lies.’

  ‘With you? You got too much nous to take on a bloke what’s already jumped ship on his boss. So’s Grey Maxton. Mick Derham’s history.’

  ‘Still, Denny’s twelve thousand miles away. Who’s going to look after his interest here till he kicks the bucket?’

  ‘He’s already sorted out an insurance on that,’ retorted Harry. ‘He may be dying, but he still knows how to look after his own.’

  ‘An’ this insurance is...?’

  ‘If I told you that, it wouldn’t be insurance, would it?’

  ‘You been to Maxton with this crazy scheme?’

  ‘Not yet. I was planning to fix a meet with you both, once Dora and Bella was on their way.’

&n
bsp; ‘But you ain’t got their papers no more.’ The Rat spoke for the first time. ‘So they ain’t going nowhere.’

  ‘We’ll have to come to an arrangement about those,’ Harry said. ‘If they aren’t on the next available boat, then the deal’s off.’

  ‘Not sure you’re in much of a bargaining position, Harry,’ drawled the Rat. ‘We eliminate you, the ladies stay where they are, an’ we simply move in.’

  ‘It might work that way,’ agreed Harry with a cool he was far from feeling. ‘But if that happens it’ll start a war between you and Maxton, there’ll be bloodshed on both sides, and the rozzers’ll be all over you. Both firms lose out that way and could leave the field open to someone else. Reckon Bull’s got more sense than to get into all that, simply to stop Denny’s ladies from going to see him in Australia before he dies.’

  ‘How do we know he’s dying?’ challenged the Rat.

  ‘You don’t,’ returned Harry, ‘but if he wasn’t and anything happened to Dora or Bella, he’d make you regret it.’

  ‘I wonder just how he’d do that?’ snapped Ratcliffe. ‘You got a lot to say for yourself, but—’

  ‘Shut it, Rat,’ drawled Bull. ‘Get the boy a drink.’

  The Rat stared at his boss and Harry thought for a moment he wasn’t going to obey, but with a great show of reluctance he went to the bar and slopped whisky into two glasses. He took a long pull at one before handing the other to Harry, who took a grateful gulp, before he put the glass down, so that Bull wouldn’t see his hand shaking.

  ‘This’ll take some thinking about,’ Bull said. ‘What happens to the women when Denny falls off his perch? Won’t they be shrieking for their share in all this?’

  ‘No, they’ll be took care of in Sydney. New names, new lives and the money Denny’s put by for them. You won’t never hear from them again once they’re on that ship. They can’t afford to be associated with you, back here.’