‘And the son?’
‘Was worse when he came back from the war, by all accounts.’
Henry nodded. That fitted with his own intelligence. ‘War changes people,’ he said. ‘It has a tendency to bring out the best. Or the worst.’
‘He always had a mean streak, from what our mother said, but after … not that she’d talk about it much but some of our kin still had dealings, so I’d hear things, you know? No one liked him; no one dared cross him. Except for Rico Clough.’
‘There are rumours of another organization moving in on Bailey’s territories, now he’s a wanted man. Is it possible that this Ricky Clough could be brought back as leverage? Would that upset Josiah Bailey, undermine him in some way?’
‘I just don’t know. I was a kid when we left London and still a kid when my mother took us to Ash Tree Lane. Like I said, I heard things, but I never went out of my way to ask questions. I just wanted it behind me.’
She shook her head in frustration. ‘And now it’s caught us anyway, like some sticky paper for catching flies. No offence to you, Cynthia, but all I want right now is to leave here, go back to my little room and go off to work tomorrow as normal. As it is I don’t even know if I have a job to go back to.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Cynthia said airily. ‘Albert can find you a position in one of his companies.’
Malina stood. ‘I don’t need your charity,’ she said angrily. ‘You’re all the same, you that have money. None of it matters to you, does it? I’ve worked my way up, worked hard for what I have, and I’ve fended for myself. I don’t need your charity.’
There was silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ Malina said. ‘I’m grateful for what you did today, but—’
‘No. I’m sorry,’ Cynthia said. ‘I sounded flippant and uncaring and I didn’t mean that.’ She leaned forward and took Malina’s hand. ‘Sometimes I forget. You see, every jungle has its rules, and you learn to live by them. The major rule I had to learn, living this life, is that the people who are born to it just assume that if they wave their hand then everything will fall into place. They assume that because most of the time it does, and I had to learn to be just as certain. I suppose when you act a certain way for long enough, it becomes harder and harder to drop the act, even with people who neither expect nor deserve it.’
‘Between us we’ll make certain your employers understand,’ Henry said. ‘I promise, you won’t lose anything you’ve gained because of this.’
Malina still looked uncertain but finally she nodded. ‘I’m good at my job,’ she said. ‘I’m good at getting by.’
Henry finished his drink. ‘I must go, see what answers the morning brings. I’ll ensure there is a constable within call but until this is done, it’s best not to go anywhere, Miss Cooper – and Cynthia, please be careful.’
THIRTY-ONE
Mickey had a map open on the Pritchards’ kitchen table and was trying to work out where the boy had come from. Eddy was unfamiliar with maps but was doing his best to explain and Mickey was starting to get a sense for where Clough’s boat might be moored and the rather roundabout route the child had taken to get back here. He’d been so scared of being followed that when he’d first left the barge he’d taken to his heels and run, not taking note of the direction, just seeking to put some distance between himself and the man who beat him. It had taken him a while to figure out where he’d ended up and finally he’d managed to get directions back to the Victoria Embankment and had gone from there.
‘You walked a few miles last night,’ Mickey said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be ready for your bed tonight.’
‘Can I stay here?’
‘Mr Pritchard says you can, at least for the night. Now tell me again about this man Clem. Would you know him again if you saw him?’
Eddy looked uncertain and then nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘And he was a shortish man, smaller than me?’
‘No, tall. Tall and thin.’
‘And his hair colour? Dark like mine or fair like Inspector Johnstone’s?’
‘Not either. His hair was brown like mine.’
Mickey regarded the boy with a sympathetic eye. ‘Like yours when you’ve treated it to a bath, you mean?’
‘I don’t get the chance, do I?’ Eddy was indignant.
‘I don’t suppose you do. So tell me, how was he dressed? What was his voice like? What did he have to say for himself?’
There’s a Clem Atkins works for Bailey, Mickey thought. Could be coincidence or it could mean that Bailey has at least one fifth columnist in his organization. And he seems to be using Ricky Clough as a weapon.
‘He was smart,’ Eddy said. ‘Not like Clough. He looked like he was wearing his Sunday best every day.’
That sounded like Clem Atkins, Mickey thought.
‘But I don’t know what he was talking to Clough about. They sent me away and he only came to the boat once.’
Mickey nodded. The boy was rubbing his eyes now and he looked fit to drop. Mickey consulted his notes and decided he probably had enough information. For now.
‘You’ve been of help,’ he said. ‘Now you mind Mr Pritchard and don’t think about running off again. I might need to talk to you some more.’
Mickey was preparing to leave when Eddy tugged at his sleeve. ‘I kept this,’ he said.
He opened a very grubby handkerchief and showed Mickey the coins he had given him to hand on to his master. ‘He didn’t see. I kept the money. I kept it so I could get away from him.’
Mickey folded the boy’s hand back over the coins. ‘Well, I’m not saying you did right, but I understand why you did that,’ he said. ‘Now I suggest you put that somewhere safe and you hang on to it and any other coins you might get – earned, mind, not stolen – I suggest you add them to your store. Keep it safe so you’ve got it when you want to do something special.’
Malc Pritchard said he was sure they had an old money box somewhere, from when the boys were little. He accompanied Mickey to the door.
‘He says his dad sold him to Clough.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘We’ve got room at table for another plate. Leave him here. For now at least.’
‘Thanks, Malc. That would be a weight off my mind,’ Mickey told him.
THIRTY-TWO
‘The question is,’ Prothero said to Henry, ‘is this Clement Atkins likely to be working purely on his own account? Our records show that he has links to Sabini, and through Sabini to Il Quartiere in Clerkenwell.’
‘But Sabini’s activities have mostly been out of Brighton,’ Henry pointed out. ‘Since he lost his libel case, his activities seem to have been curtailed … though family members are still heavily involved in bookmaking and racing and I don’t imagine the bankruptcy will have as much effect on the likes of Sabini as it might on the rest of us. But he’ll not come openly back to London. Not after his clash with the Cortesis. No, I’d place bets on this being an internal matter. Why would Clem Atkins involve anyone else when he can be the one to come to power, all on his own?’
‘With a little help from this Clough,’ Prothero added. ‘Mickey, how much store do you set by this child’s testimony? He’s just a boy.’
‘True, but what he has to say fits with what we know. I say we strike at the heart of Bailey’s mob and we strike hard. See who we bring in.’
‘There have already been raids. Manpower is already stretched. Henry, if we organize another set of raids and nothing comes of it, we are going to look bad, not only with our own masters but with the public.’
‘You’re right, and I agree we need to focus our efforts. Here.’ He pointed to the warehouses off Commercial Road. ‘We know that Bailey set up a boxing gym in the basement and, if the child is to be believed, Clough watches for him there and has sometimes set the child to watch.’
‘A place we have already raided.’
‘So we hit it again. And here there’s an empty public house. The boy
thinks he was taken there.’
‘Thinks. And he’s a boy known to lie.’ Prothero tugged at his shirt sleeves so that they showed beneath his jacket and the cufflinks glinted in the lamplight. A more than smart dresser, was Prothero, but he was also thoughtful and considered in his opinions and, Henry thought, a fine investigator. Because he had been present on the night they had found Grigor Vardanyan, he had been the first person Henry had spoken to about the boy’s evidence.
‘And this Clough. He has a boat moored somewhere here?’ Prothero pointed to the map.
‘As far as we can ascertain.’
‘We could take the boy there, see if he can identify the place. That would make sense, Henry. Keep this low key, rather than risk alerting everyone by staging a full-scale operation.’
‘I’d be reluctant to do that,’ Mickey said. ‘The boy is scared enough.’
‘But he is our only witness,’ Prothero reminded him. ‘You think he trusts you?’
‘As far as he trusts anyone.’
‘I see no other way,’ Henry said. ‘We need at least some confirmation that we are on the right track; otherwise more effort will be wasted. Mickey, bring him tomorrow. We’ll keep him safe, have constables standing by. The boy is our best lead.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Prothero said, ‘and as many bodies on the ground as we can muster without drawing attention. Henry, if I lead my men through this way, along Mews Street, and you come down along Thomas More Street? The boat is here, so far as we can tell.’ He touched the map at St Katharine Docks. ‘And Mickey brings the boy. We find the barge, clear the child out of the way and, with luck, make an arrest. Then we move back towards the warehouses in the Tobacco Dock and search for Bailey.’
‘Clough will not come quietly,’ Mickey predicted. ‘Bailey can be confounded but it’s Ricky Clough that concerns me.’
‘So you go and prepare the boy. Henry and I will make our plea for as many bodies on the ground as can be spared,’ Prothero told him. ‘I like this as little as you do, Sergeant Hitchens, but it must be done.’
Mickey was not a happy man. He saw the sense in what they said but the feeling that he was risking Eddy, betraying the trust the child had put his way, weighed like a stone on his heart. But what else could they do?
He put off the inevitable by going home first and confiding in his wife.
‘Oh, Mickey.’ Belle hugged him. ‘The boy has endured worse. You will be there and, if you ask him, Malc will go with you. Eddy will be nowhere near, not after he identifies the boat. Does he not know the name of it?’
‘So far as I can ascertain, he doesn’t read well enough to know it. He reckons the name is scraped back so as to be hardly there. It’s a disused barge, my love, and if the owners abandoned it they’ll not be keen on the name being known; they may be avoiding the mooring fees.’
‘Why would you abandon a working boat?’ Belle asked.
‘I suppose, from what I’ve heard, that trade is not what it was. The boy Kem, he said that work was harder to come by all the time. That, on occasion, they might have to wait a week or more for a load.’ He shrugged. ‘But we are avoiding the inevitable, aren’t we? Aren’t I? I’ll go and talk to the lad now and, as you suggest, see if Malc can help out again. We’ll owe him, Belle.’
‘He’s a friend. We’ll be there when he needs us.’ She kissed her husband gently. ‘Go and do your job,’ she said, ‘and I’ll finish getting tea. You must be famished.’
THIRTY-THREE
It was cold the following morning, moving out before dawn and getting into position. Eddy was now the proud owner of a coat. Too big, reaching almost to his feet, but warm and clean and the boy was proud as Punch. He kept hold of Malc’s sleeve as they drew near the docks, recognizing the landmarks and then the boat.
Eddy drew a deep, unsteady breath. ‘That one there,’ he said. ‘The light’s not lit. I don’t know why the light’s not lit. He’d be up by now.’ He looked about, clearly scared, clearly expecting Clough to appear at any moment.
‘Malc, take him back there. The constables will look out for you, lad,’ Mickey told him. Eddy looked only a little less scared at that prospect. Malc led him away.
‘So,’ Mickey said. ‘Here we go.’
They moved forward, Henry ahead of Mickey but preceded by two of the most robust uniforms they could find. Silently as they could they crept up on the barge, Henry as bothered by the lack of light, now, as the boy had been. The constables grabbed the mooring line and hauled the barge close against the marina wall, crashing it against the fenders before leaping aboard. Henry followed. No time for subtlety or quiet now. The constables pulled the hatches open, clattered down the steps … and silence. No one aboard.
Henry made his way down. The boat stank of cigarettes and unwashed bodies, stale food and stale bedding. And it was deathly chill; the cold cooking stove spoke of absence.
He went back on deck. Their noise had roused the occupants of other boats. Someone called out, demanding to know what was going on. Mickey stepped back on to dry land and went to speak with the nearest neighbour. He soon returned.
‘He’s not been back since yesterday or the day before. They say they’ve not seen the boy either, but at least we know where he is.’
‘So, where is Clough?’ Henry joined Mickey on the dockside, looking round as Eddy had done earlier. He beckoned the constables to come back. ‘Go and speak to everyone here. I want to know when they saw him last and whether anyone else has been here since then. What visitors he might have had, how he dealt with his neighbours.’
Prothero had arrived, coming in from the other side of the dock. The sense of anti-climax was now palpable. ‘One step forward,’ Henry said. ‘Three giant bloody steps back.’
Frowning, he surveyed the marina. Run down, cramped, many of the boats moored looked to have been decommissioned or abandoned, though on the other side of the dock boats moved and prepared for unloading. Clearly this was quieter water but the major part of the dock, that section closer to the river, thrummed with activity even this early in the day.
Henry’s gaze returned to Clough’s boat. Broad, shallow draft and floating deeper in the water towards the rear. Stern, he corrected himself. Towards the stern.
What had Constable Hargreaves said about debris fouling the anchor? What had they surmised about Peterson and Crane being kept in water before being dumped?
He went over to one of the watermen. ‘How do you raise the anchor on that boat?’
‘The anchor shouldn’t be down. She’s moored fore and aft, why would she need to drop anchor?’
Curious, the man followed Henry back to the barge. He swore softly. ‘Well, I’ll be … Why would the daft beggar have dropped anchor?’
‘How do we haul it up?’
‘There’s a winch at the stern. You want me to show one of your men?’
Henry said he would appreciate that a great deal.
It should by rights have been a job for a single man but two of them struggled and it was only when they hauled both anchor and bodies on deck that they discovered why.
‘Well, there’s our man Clough,’ Mickey said. ‘Bullet wound, by the look of it. And beside him is Josiah Bailey. Now there’s a sight I didn’t expect to see.’
THIRTY-FOUR
‘So what now?’ Mickey asked. Prothero had taken charge of the crime scene and Henry and Mickey were preparing for the next move.
Once more it was Eddy’s information that they decided to use. Clough had spoken about watching for Bailey at the warehouse that housed the boxing club, in the Tobacco Dock. He had been told that Clough was dead.
‘I want to see.’
‘Eddy,’ Henry said gently, ‘that’s not a good idea.’
‘I want to see.’
Malc laid a massive, gentle hand on Eddy’s arm. ‘I think you should let him,’ he said. He put an arm around the child’s shoulder. ‘He needs to know that he is really free of that man.’
Henry stepped back.
‘Go on, then,’ he said quietly. ‘Let him see.’
Mickey looked askance but said nothing.
They watched as man and boy walked towards the barge, Malc’s hand resting lightly on the boy’s shoulder, reassuring and ready to turn around should Eddy decide it was too much after all. They stood on the dock and Eddy looked at the man who had beaten him, controlled him, forced him to do whatever he told him.
Then Eddy turned away and it seemed to Henry that his steps were lighter as he walked back towards them.
‘You’ve done with him?’ Malc asked.
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Then we’ll be off home, eh, lad?’
‘I’ll have you taken back,’ Henry said.
‘I think we’ll walk, if it’s all the same to you. Walking is better for talking than riding in a car, and I imagine Eddy needs time for talking. I’ll see you later, Sergeant Hitchens.’
‘That was … not right,’ Mickey said. ‘I don’t hold with the boy seeing—’
‘Nothing worse than he’s seen already,’ Henry said. ‘Now, we find out who has taken charge of what was Bailey’s ground.’
They went alone to the boxing club, constables waiting in the street. Through the side door of the warehouse and down the stairs. The sound of gloves on leather, the shuffle of feet on canvas reached them. Voices raised in encouragement and approbation. ‘For God’s sake, man. Hit him!’
Faces turned towards them as they stepped out into the gym and then attention turned back to the tasks in hand. A man sat in what was customarily Josiah Bailey’s chair. He didn’t turn but raised a hand and called the two of them forward.
‘Have a seat, gentlemen.’
‘Clem Atkins,’ Henry said. ‘And are you now master of all you survey?’
‘Seems like I might well be,’ Clem said. ‘Seems like there’s no one to oppose me, is there?’
‘We found Josiah Bailey dead. Ricky Clough alongside him. Bound to the anchor of the boat where Clough had been living. Clough, we think, was shot.’
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