‘Did you see that as a cause for celebration?’
‘To some extent, I did. I have a sneaking admiration for them.’
‘They’re criminals, Peter.’
‘They’re prisoners of war who should have been released and who’ve been under the heel of a governor who revels in being a martinet. Friends of theirs were shot in cold blood. In my view, it’s estimable that these two men are campaigning on behalf of all the others.’
‘But they’re doing it by means of a threat.’
‘That, I agree, was not an act of diplomacy.’
‘You should want them locked up again.’
‘I certainly don’t want them returned to the tender mercies of this Captain Shortland,’ he said with passion. ‘Even allowing for exaggeration, their portrayal of him is worrying. He’s ruthless and singles out men he believes are troublemakers. O’Gara was one of them. I’d hate you to see the description of the Black Hole into which O’Gara was flung. The treatment of him was inhuman.’
‘This is not your battle, Peter,’ she argued. ‘Viscount Sidmouth employed you to catch these men not to sympathise with their demands. Paul doesn’t share your views. His attitude is simple. He wants to lock them up so that the pair of you can collect the reward.’
‘Paul was maddened when he realised that they’d evaded us. That court behind Orchard Street was the third place on his list and he felt sure that they’d be there. What he didn’t know, of course, was their precise location in that rabbit warren. After my chat with Jubal Nason,’ recalled Peter, ‘I did. He told me which building they lived in.’
‘Where will they have gone?’
‘Someone like this Dermot Fallon will have friends all over the place.’
‘What about his family?’
‘They’re still there, Charlotte.’
‘Why didn’t you arrest them and question them about the whereabouts of the others?’ He laughed. ‘Is it such a ludicrous suggestion?’
‘We couldn’t arrest them because we didn’t know where to find them. They just blended in with another family. Fallon would have made sure his wife and children were safe before he left with the others. I’ll wager that Mrs Fallon doesn’t have any idea of his whereabouts,’ said Peter. ‘He’d have deliberately kept her in the dark so that she couldn’t inadvertently give them away.’
‘Someone gave them away, Peter.’
‘I agree.’
‘The Runners must have been helped by an informer.’
‘Yes, and it has to be someone who lived in the same tenement. Yeomans and his men knew exactly which rooms to raid. Unfortunately for them, the only occupants were Paul and me. I daresay they’re still wondering how we got there.’
‘What about the informer?’ she asked.
‘Fallon will find him.’
‘How?’
‘Men like that have eyes everywhere, Charlotte.’
‘What will he do when he finds out who it was?’
‘Well, I don’t think he’ll be paying Jubal Nason to write a letter of thanks on his behalf,’ said Peter with a wry smile. ‘He’ll be eager to have a confrontation with the man. Frankly, I’d hate to be in the informer’s shoes.’
Tom O’Gara and Moses Dagg had no complaints about being told to leave the building at short notice. They’d been expecting a sudden departure at some point. Disguised as beggars, they slipped out of the tenement and followed Dermot Fallon on a tortuous route to the river. They were now hiding in a rotting hulk that bobbed gently on the Thames. As before, they were delighted to be back on water again. The vessel was leaking and showing clear signs of its advanced age but it was the perfect haven for a couple of sailors. In a busy port with shipping from all corners of the world, Dagg’s black face was no longer so conspicuous. The waterfront was a polyglot community. Men of many nations, creeds and colours met there.
Since they were the only people aboard, they had far more freedom than they had when sharing two cramped rooms with Fallon and his family. They were able to strut around on deck and watch a wide variety of craft sailing on a river that not only defined London geographically, it provided countless of its citizens with a livelihood. All sorts of people fed off the Thames, whether as wealthy merchants sending cargoes abroad, humble mudlarks scouring the banks for items of value or those in one of a hundred other river-based occupations.
‘I don’t like it, Tom,’ said Dagg.
‘We need the money.’
‘Then we’ll find another way to get it.’
‘But this is the easiest way of all,’ urged O’Gara. ‘You climb into a ring and knock some misguided fool so hard that it will be a week before he wakes up again. Think how many times I’ve seen you do that over the years.’
‘All it needs is one person in the audience who’s seen the reward notice.’
‘Most of them can’t read, Moses. They couldn’t care less who or what you are. Dermot told you the sort of people who’d be there. They come to see blood spurting and bones being broken.’
‘I’m still worried.’
‘You do the fighting,’ said O’Gara. ‘Leave the worrying to me.’
They were in the remains of what had once been the captain’s cabin, a small, cramped place with damaged timberwork and cracked glass. Through the gap in the window, they could smell the rising stench of the river and hear the cries of the gulls as they rose and dipped. Among the large Irish community, O’Gara had felt at home while Dagg had been the obvious outsider. Back on board, both now felt equally comfortable and safe from the attentions of the Runners.
‘I want to know who ratted on us,’ said O’Gara.
‘It must have been that scrivener.’
‘No, he wasn’t to blame.’
‘He looked crafty to me, Tom. I wouldn’t trust him.’
‘He was the one who saved us, Moses. If he hadn’t warned Dermot, the three of us would have been caught napping. I agree that Nason is a sly bastard but he’s thinking about his own neck. If we hang,’ said O’Gara, ‘he’ll be shitting his breeches beside us. Dermot will find out who tried to turn us in.’
‘Where is he? I expected him back by now.’
‘Be patient. He’ll be here soon.’
‘What if the police arrest his wife?’
‘Mary’s too clever for that. She’ll have changed her name and taken the children to stay with friends. And you’re forgetting what Dermot said. He won’t even tell Mary where we are so she couldn’t lead anyone here.’
‘I feel guilty causing them so much trouble,’ said Dagg.
‘Sure, they thrive on it. My cousin will tell you the same,’ said O’Gara, looking through the window. ‘There he is, on his way back here.’
In fact, the river bank was thronged with people coming, going or working in some way, yet O’Gara had picked Fallon out in the crowd. It took Dagg a little longer to espy him. When he did so, he was able to relax a little. They went up on deck to lower the gangplank so that Fallon could come aboard with his dog. As soon as he’d joined them, they hauled the gangplank into position again so that nobody else could get onto the vessel. The dog immediately went below deck in search of rats.
‘What took you so long?’ asked Dagg.
‘I had some shopping to do,’ said Fallon, opening his coat to reveal a loaf of bread and a large pie. ‘Hold these, Tom.’
While his cousin took charge of the provender, Fallon emptied his pockets of the fruit he’d kept there. He explained that he’d come through a market and used his dog to distract stallholders so that he could help himself to their goods. Other items of food came out of his pockets.
‘You’ve done well, Dermot,’ said O’Gara. ‘This will keep us well fed for a couple of days. Did you manage to see Mary?’
‘She was waiting for me with the tale of what happened after we left.’
‘How many men were there?’
‘Oh, they came in strength, Tom, so they offered us plenty of targets.’
The sail
ors laughed as he went on to describe how everyone in the tenements did their best to repel the intruders with missiles and offerings from their chamber pots. The tumult they’d created had caused great confusion. When they failed to catch any of us wanted men, the Runners left and had to endure another pelting.
‘They were led by Micah Yeomans,’ said Fallon.
O’Gara shrugged. ‘That name means nothing to us.’
‘It would if you lived in London. He’s the most famous thieftaker in the city and also the most crooked. Greasing his palm is the best way to stay out of prison.’
‘How did he know where we were, Dermot?’
‘Who tried to stab us in the back?’ asked Dagg.
‘That’s the man we want.’
‘We’ll cut his tongue out for a start.’
‘Mary has a good idea who it might be,’ said Fallon. ‘She watched the Runners leave and got within a few yards of Yeomans. My wife has keen eyesight. She saw something that will guide us to the informer.’
‘What was it?’ asked O’Gara.
‘Yeomans is a big man and as ugly as they come but he likes to dress well. Mary was surprised to see that he had black hands and specks of soot all over him. That can only mean one thing.’
‘The informer was that chimney sweep,’ said Dagg, malevolently.
‘That’s right, Moses. He’ll get more than a beating next time.’ Fallon made a vivid gesture with both hands. ‘That filthy traitor, Kearney, will wish that he never left Ireland.’
Donal Kearney was still hurt, resentful and embittered. In delivering the escaped prisoners to the Runners, he’d expected thanks and financial reward. As it was, both were denied him. He was livid. Without his help, they would have had no idea where to look. Kearney had told Yeomans where they were hiding and who was sheltering them. The bonus for the sweep was that Moses Dagg, the black man who’d beaten and humiliated him, would be dragged off to prison. That thought gave him great consolation. When the raid on the tenements began, Kearney made sure that he went off quickly in the other direction. He had chimneys to sweep and his work kept him busy for hours. While he was away, he assumed, the American sailors would have been arrested along with Dermot Fallon, a man with whom Kearney had clashed in the past.
It was well into the evening before he returned home. Ready to feign surprise at the news of the raid, Kearney walked into the court and waited for someone to tell him what had happened. But everyone turned their backs on him. Dozens of people were milling around but, the moment he appeared, they fell silent and moved away from him. Even the children shunned him.
‘What’s going on?’ he shouted.
But there was no reply. Instead of going through his usual routine and washing off the worst of the soot at the pump, he ran up the stairs then stopped in sheer disgust outside his door. Nailed to the timber was a dead rat. Grabbing hold of it, he flung it away and opened the door. His whole family were there, huddled in a corner. His wife, a pale, thin, nervous woman with her waif-like prettiness obliterated by a mask of fear, rushed across to him.
‘Thank God you’ve come!’ she exclaimed.
‘What’s happened?’
‘We were raided by the police.’
‘Were you?’ he said, pretending to be shocked. ‘Why?’
‘They came for the two men staying with Dermot Fallon.’
‘They’re criminals, Maureen. They should be arrested. So should Fallon.’
‘But they weren’t there, Donal.’
He shuddered. ‘What did you say?’
‘They escaped before the raid.’
‘They can’t have done,’ he said with rising alarm. ‘When I left earlier on, they were all still here. I checked.’
‘People are saying it was you,’ she warned.
‘That’s a lie.’
‘Nobody will talk to us. Nobody will play with the children.’
‘I did nothing, Meg, I swear it.’
‘You did say you’d get even with that black man.’
‘Don’t you dare tell that to anybody!’ he yelled, shaking her hard.
‘You’re hurting me, Donal.’
He shoved her away. ‘You’re to keep your mouth shut. Is that clear?’ He glared at the children. ‘And the same goes for you.’
All four of them nodded. Meg went to stand protectively between them and their father. Fear of her husband had long since displaced the love she’d first felt but she still had a bruised loyalty. Whatever he’d done, she would stand by him.
‘I’ll tell them,’ he decided. ‘I’ll tell them the truth.’
Going to the window, he flung it open. Down below was the usual commotion amplified by the sound of children’s squeals, shouts and laughter. Kearney’s voice reverberated around the court.
‘It wasn’t me!’ he yelled. ‘As God’s my witness, it wasn’t me!’
He was met by an accusatory silence.
It was not until the following morning that Micah Yeomans was able to deliver his report to the Home Secretary. Since he and Alfred Hale were his bodyguards, they picked Sidmouth up from his house and set off with him in the carriage. Yeomans broke the bad tidings that the raid had been a failure.
‘This is old news, Mr Yeomans,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘I heard it first from Peter Skillen who had the courtesy to call on me last evening. It’s something that you might also have done.’
‘I had no wish to disturb you, my lord.’
‘When my safety is at stake, you can disturb me all you wish.’
‘It was not our fault, my lord,’ said Hale. ‘Our informer let us down.’
‘Yes,’ added Yeomans, ‘the fellow lives in the same tenement and has actually seen the escaped prisoners. It seems that they’ve been walking abroad brazenly as if they’re above the law.’
‘Nobody is above the law,’ said Sidmouth, crisply, ‘and that includes me.’
‘The raid itself went well.’
‘It’s true,’ said Hale, eager to win some praise. ‘Micah deployed his men like a general in the field. We always get resistance in places like that but we swooped on them before they knew what was happening. I think we deserve recognition for that.’
‘I recognise it willingly, Mr Hale,’ said Sidmouth, dryly, ‘but I don’t feel that celebration is in order. The facts are damning. You raided a tenement in search of people who were not there. That was bound to cause unnecessary upset. You claim that you caught the residents unawares, yet I’m told that that’s simply untrue. They were not only expecting you, they fought back.’
‘There was some minor trouble, my lord, that’s all.’
‘We had control of the situation from start to finish,’ said Yeomans.
‘Then why were some of your men beaten back?’ asked Sidmouth. ‘Why did one of them have to be carried away because he was hit by a flagon hurled from an upper window? You forget that I have an alternative version of events, gentlemen. Peter and Paul Skillen were first inside the tenement. Both had the sense to dress in rougher garb so that they wouldn’t look out of place whereas you and your men were instantly seen for what you are by the residents.’
‘Don’t believe everything that the Skillen brothers tell you, my lord.’
‘They always try to portray us in a poor light,’ complained Hale.
‘We had sound intelligence and they did not.’
‘Then how come they managed to get into the building before you?’ asked Sidmouth. The Runners traded an uneasy glance. ‘There are some things you do very well, Yeomans, and there are some things best left to others. This is a case in point. I assigned Peter and Paul Skillen the task of finding those men because they have a gift for tracking down missing people. You and Hale were charged with ensuring my safety. In future, you will concentrate all your energies on that.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Yeomans, sourly.
‘Yes, my lord,’ repeated Hale.
‘When we reach the Home Office, I want the pair of you to come in with me. It
’s not long before we have the celebrations for our victory at Waterloo. With your help, I want to review the arrangements. If these men are still at liberty,’ said Sidmouth, ‘then I may well need you beside me throughout the event.’
‘We’ll catch them well before that,’ argued Yeomans.
‘You tried and failed, Mr Yeomans.’
‘And so did the Skillen brothers.’
‘They didn’t boast about an early arrest in the way that you did. Nor did they claim to have inside knowledge of the tenement in question. Yet they got there before you and witnessed what you must admit was your dégringolade.’
Hale was baffled. ‘What does that mean, my lord?’
‘It means that you had a bad fall.’
‘Give us the chance to vindicate our reputation,’ said Yeomans.
‘You’ll do that by keeping me alive and well. Leave the pursuit and capture of O’Gara and Dagg to the Skillen brothers. They’ll succeed in the end.’
They drove on in silence until they reached the Home Office. The Runners got out first to check that nobody was about then helped Sidmouth to alight from the carriage. As they walked towards the building, Yeomans got in a sly dig at his rivals.
‘If the Skillen brothers are such experts at finding missing persons,’ he asked, ‘why do they still have no idea of the whereabouts of Mrs Horner?’
Everything had changed. When she was first abducted, Anne Horner was encouraged to believe that, for the convenience of her captors, she was being held for a limited amount of time before release. Her status was now very much that of a prisoner in need of punishment. Because of her failed attempt at escape, she had been bound, gagged and left in excruciating discomfort. Her bonds were only removed when she agreed that she would not try to raise the alarm again. In place of the ropes, however, she was now chained by one leg to an iron ring in the wall. Freedom to move about the cellar was a privilege taken away from her. The meals were fewer in number and less appetising. Wine had disappeared altogether. All that she was given to drink was cloudy water.
Shadow of the Hangman Page 18