by Chris Hales
He smiled sorrowfully and raised his hand into the air, calling the landlord to their table. “Two glasses and a bottle of your smoothest liquor.” he requested. The landlord nodded his understanding and slunk away. “I'm from Wolverhampton, did you know this?” he asked. “I had a miserable childhood,” he detailed with pain in his heart. “I witnessed my father murder my mother when I was six.” Tom bowed his head in an effort to display his sorrow. “It didn't get any better as I grew older. I was forced into a marriage I didn't want and instructed to have a son whom I didn't care for.”
“A wife?” He asked. “I would have liked to have met her.”
The landlord returned, placing two short glasses on the table, filling each and setting the bottle by Jonathan. “Thank you, Tony,” he acknowledged, quickly returning to their conversation. “You probably have met her. She was pulled out of the river a couple of days after I left.”
The realisation suddenly hit him hard. “A victim of the riverside killer?”
“Yes…, you see,” Jonathan explained, “it was Charles Hitchin who brought my family to London. I had thought it was to make me suffer. Now I can see it was for something else entirely.”
“So,” he thought. “Mr Hitchin brought your entire family to London? What were his reasons for doing such a thing?” He couldn't comprehend how Jonathan and Hitchin had become so closely entwined. “He must have known how much you despised your father.” This fact was clear to anyone who would listen.
“He did. He had hoped to use it against me, but, I can see now what he had truly hoped for.” From the moment Matthew had told him of Anne's demise it had all started to make sense. “My father and Charles made an alliance.” This was obvious. They were made for each other. “They hoped to kill my wife, blaming me for the murder. When I was hanged as the riverside killer, my father would become my son's guardian.” It was all about Joseph. Everything depended on him. He was the path to Jonathan's money.
“And where is your son now?” he asked with concern.
“With Charles and Jacob,” it was a sorry state of affairs. He refused to let his son suffer their wrath. “Through my son they could share my immense fortune. Each is as greedy as the other.”
“They didn't manage to implicate you as the riverside killer, though.” It didn't take long for London to notice Jonathan's absence. By the time his wife was dragged from the river Tom and most others knew the Thief Taker was not resident in London.
“No…. and I'm sure when Charles learns of my return he'll start concocting more ways of pitting himself against me,” dread had been overcome with excitement. “The problem Charles has is that now I know what he was planning and I know what to do about it.”
Tom was a little afraid. He could tell he was planning something dangerous, but fear was replaced by another emotion. “I have to say it's good to have you back. London has suffered without the Thief Taker.” It was a great relief. Even to him.
“Has it?” he asked with intrigue.
“I know who and what you are, Jonathan. I may not like what you've done to this fair city but I have to admire it.” It was surprising how he could find good in a man he was sure London would hate if they ever discovered the truth. “You bring order and control to an otherwise hectic world. And I'm sure people, from all walks of life, have fared better under your rule.”
He laughed loudly. “That does sound awfully like a compliment, Tom.”
“I think it is,” He smiled at him, regarding him as more of a friend than a foe. “Without you, in your absence, London has suffered. Thieves have flocked back to Hitchin and there is no order to his gang.”
He knew this. Matthew had detailed the current state of the gangs in London, but he had a plan. “That will change.” He hoped this would inspire great confidence within Tom.
“I don't see how.” He often thought Jonathan was a genius of the highest order and he knew he couldn't see things nearly as well himself.
“Things are going to change Tom. And there's little Charles can do about it.” He would reshape the gangs of London and the way they worked. Charles Hitchin wouldn't know how to compete. “I think it only fair I tell you something.” He liked Tom. He was a worthy adversary.
“You perplex me, Jonathan Wild,” he couldn't see where his mind was being led, and where he was being taken in turn. “Why would you tell me anything? Are there measures I can take?”
“No,” he laughed as he sipped from the recently filled glass of liquor, “but it will bring London back into order.”
“That's wonderful,” said a hopeful Tom, “but I doubt it will do anything about Mr Hitchin.” He was the main cause for concern. His actions were the most troubling.
“Oh, I have plans for him as well,” smiled Jonathan. “You see, Tom, you're an unwilling participant in his and my game of deceit.” The game had now changed, and Charles didn't know how to play. “When the time is right he will meet his end,” of this he was determined. “It may take some time but I promise you and the people of London his reign of terror will come to a decisive conclusion.” He appeared certain of that. It gave Tom courage and made him a little anxious too.
“I imagine I don't want to know how you plan on doing this.” He would love to know what he was in for. He was more intrigued now than ever before.
“Oh, I'm sure you'll work it out,” he laughed. “If I told you it would be no fun.”
“I don't suppose you want to point me in the right direction?” asked a desperate Tom.
“I won't make things so easy for you, Tom,” he knew he would need his help at some point soon, “but I assure you when I'm done nothing will be the same. All you need to do is follow my lead.” Jonathan knew the shape of London and its thieves had been distorted. He would be the one to change it. Again. It all made sense now.
123
While Jonathan was enjoying drinks with Tom, Matthew visited Mary. Strangely he found all of the doors locked and no sign of life within those walls, but he had grown up in this house. He was young when he had learned to pick the locks.
Inside he found the household in complete disarray. All of the girls were in Mary's room, huddled around her. Mary, herself, was in a terrible state. A bloody rag strapped about her head and tears flowing freely.
Before long he had learned what had occurred in this usually happy house. He tried to comfort her but thought it best to leave the girls to care for their madam. Wishing to know more, he pulled his love, Isabel, from the room. Downstairs, in the kitchen, she told her tale of Jonathan and his sword. He was furious. He balled his fists and punched the table with force, causing it to crack impressively with the impact.
“You should kill him,” suggested Isabel. She was appalled at his actions after such a long stay away.
“I wish I could,” he grumbled regretfully, “but we need him.”
He had considered the possibility of Jonathan's untimely death. London was in a state of such calamity he was sure his death would only complicate matters even further. He had heard his plans for the future and he couldn't deny they would change things for the better. They needed him.
124
He found Matthew in his study on his return home. He expected many harsh words from him but what he did was totally unforeseen. He never anticipated him rushing forwards as he entered the house.
Forced up against the door frame he tried to fight for freedom. With his arm pushing against Jonathan's throat he whispered into his ear.
“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you. Tell me why I shouldn't rip your fuckin’ throat out, right ‘ere, for what you did to Mary.” He had killed many men for less. He deserved it but he never imagined it would be a friend who did such a terrible thing to his surrogate mother.
“Kill me, Matthew,” he pleaded. “Kill me and we'll be done with it,” he deserved such action. All of the things he had done to Mary and those he was supposed to care for were unforgivable. A strong part of him hoped he would die.
“Don't think I won't,” he threat
ened as more pressure was applied to his throat.
“I hope you do,” he begged as he struggled to breathe. “I deserve it for everything I've done.”
“Why?” he asked. “To Mary? Why?” He was desperate for an answer. He knew Mary's relationship was unstable at this time, but he never expected Jonathan to perform such a wicked act.
“I don't know. There's something so terribly wrong with me, Matthew. If I died I'd be doing you all a great favour.” The only reason he could find was he was quickly becoming his father. A man of inexplicable violence and hatred.
“I can't,” he admitted, releasing Jonathan and allowing him to soothe his tortured neck. “I can't do it. You're our only hope. We need you.” He could see he was changing. As much as he didn't like this metamorphosis he knew he was the key to bringing London back into order.
“I don't know if you can trust me not to do something stupid again,” he explained. If he continued down this path he knew it was a certainty. “You can't place your faith in me, Matthew.”
“But I do. I always have.” He hoped he would change and he would become the man he used to be. “You saved us once and I know you can do it again.” The impossible was always probable where he was concerned.
“I've already told you how this will work.” Every step had been explained to Matthew on the journey back to London. Many of the small details had been omitted, but he had understood the basics how it would operate.
“Then I'll let you live,” he stated, in an attempt to lighten the mood, “but know if you ever hurt Mary again, you'll never see me coming. I'm watching you, Jonathan.” It was a warning of the highest degree and he’d better observe it closely.
“I know, as you most certainly should, my friend. I don't trust myself and I'll need you to make sure I don't do anything stupid.” He was counting on Matthew to keep him grounded, hoping he would be his guardian, as well as his protector. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“I can't,” he admitted sorrowfully, “but we have a lot to do, so for the moment I'll let it pass.” He was doing Jonathan a great favour. Others in London would expect Matthew to kill him for what he had done. There was, however, a greater need. The thieves of London deserved another chance.
“Thank you, my friend.” It was a great relief. He had hoped his actions would have caused a severe punishment, but he had much he needed to do. London deserved to have his wrongs put right.
“So where do we start?” asked Matthew.
“We need a crew and a captain.” This was the plan. It all hinged on being able to operate their own ship.
“Surely we need a boat first?” A crew without a ship was somewhat pointless. He didn't know much about sailing, but he knew such a thing was a necessity.
“I've already bought a sloop. It will be arriving in London the day after tomorrow.” The delivery of a ship had been arranged in Holland. It would arrive with a Dutch crew, who would then leave on another boat back across the sea. Two ships, one Dutch and one English, would be the basis for it all.
“Where do we find a captain?” he asked of Matthew.
“I don't know. I'm not the type to hang around the docks.” Most men avoided them. They were a place filled with all manner of depravity. Rumours were rife about the amount of homosexuals in the docks and on ships.
“You must know someone,” he was Jonathan's most valuable source of information. If he couldn't help, he didn't know where to turn next.
“Well, there is one, but you're not going to like it.” It was, indeed, a dangerous proposal.
“Who?”
“It may cause even more trouble,” he explained as a warning.
“Who?” Jonathan demanded.
“Roger Johnson.”
“Johnson?” It was, indeed, dangerous. He would be as angry as Matthew concerning the scarring of his favourite prostitute. He would also be concerned he would resent him for being with his woman. Jealousy was often the slowest emotion to dissipate.
“If I'm right he served in the navy before he turned to highway robbery.” It wasn't a well-known fact, but he had been involved in the workings of London crime since he was young. He was sure he was correct in his assumption.
“We need to meet with him.” It was the next logical step.
“Great, and then what? How do we get the thieves back? Charlie won't let them go easily.” Hitchin was the least of his concerns. Once the thieves knew Jonathan was back and he had a new way of working, they would flock to him as easily as a wolf to sheep. Charles would be unable to stop that flow.
“Oh, I know how to handle it. Don't worry,” he comforted. “Once we've talked to Johnson, it will be time to tackle the next problem.” He felt this issue the most important, and the most personal.
“What's that?” he asked with concern.
Jonathan smiled. “We need to go get my son...”
125
Highwaymen were usually the most dangerous type of thief. Exceptionally good horsemen and more than competent with a pistol they were disliked by other thieves yet were regarded as folk heroes by the general populous. Highway robbery was largely considered to be the easy option. Not nearly as skilful as other methods of crime.
In reality, however, it required great range of abilities. In addition to being an exceptional horseman, a highwayman needed to be brave and fearless. It often called for moments of great violence and brutal punishment. The legislature had devised methods to combat these dastardly highwaymen and numerous city marshals often patrolled the roads which led into London. Sometimes a highway robber would force a carriage to a stop only to find it filled with lawmen.
Roger Johnson was exceptionally good at what he did. He had avoided capture and was by far the most capable and successful highwayman in London. Tonight was no different from any other. He waited, hidden in the trees and bushes, until a carriage passed. The driver was in no hurry and allowed his horses to amble along at a steady pace. Roger kicked his horse into action and jumped from the bushes.
The driver of the carriage urged his horses to race at a higher speed. He was determined to hurry alongside, holding out his loaded pistol in the hope it would encourage the carriage to stop. Fortunately the horses slowed, the driver holding his arms into the air in a defensive posture. He knew the drill. He had been instructed to stop should they be held up.
He jumped from his horse and threw the carriage door aside. “Your money or your...,” he stopped, taken aback by the image which confronted him.
Inside the carriage sat Jonathan and Matthew, each holding outstretched pistols at his heart. “Shut up and get in,” instructed Jonathan. He flinched as the driver of the carriage prodded another pistol into his back, urging him to climb inside.
Slowly he followed their command, climbing warily up. “Nice carriage,” he joked as he took a seat next to Matthew. The driver shut the carriage door, leaving him at their mercy. Pointing his pistol away Matthew nodded to Jonathan.
“I have a proposal for you...” he posed.
“If this is about Mary, I...,” he defended.
“That's forgotten,” he reassured. “This proposition is related to another matter.”
Roger sneered at him. In his younger days he had been a more than adequate thief. Jonathan had sent many messengers asking him to join their ranks over the years. He refused every time and assumed now, with Hitchin's gang larger than any other, he was desperate and in need of competent criminals. He would, however, refuse again. “Do I really need to tell you I work alone?” he questioned. “I won't be one of your thieves...”
He lowered his pistol, cocking his eyebrow curiously. “I understand you were once in the Navy?” he enquired.
“I was,” he replied, “but a long time ago.”
Jonathan smiled. “I'm not asking you to be a thief,” he explained. “I recently purchased a sloop and I was hoping you'd sail it for me.” He sat back, looking to Matthew who was aiming his pistol once again.
He shook his head in disbeli
ef. “Why not sail it yourself?”
“I would,” he said, “but I have something of an aversion to water.” That's all he ever told anyone. He kept the details to himself. He never explained the story how he was almost drowned in a Wolverhampton stream as punishment for the poor work he had done that day.
“And this from the man who recently returned from Holland” He chuckled. “What did you do? Walk there?”
“I'm offering you the opportunity to captain my sloop,” he said again.
“I'm not entirely sure I understand” said a befuddled Roger.
He carefully explained his plan. He had to admit it was brilliant, the best he'd heard since the uniting of the gangs. His contacts in Holland had given Jonathan the idea and it was so ridiculously simple. Each country had its own thieves. All found it difficult to pass on their stolen goods and if such criminal was caught and the stolen property identified they would surely be hanged. There was, however, a simple way around it.
If his gang's stolen items could be transported to another country and then sold abroad, they would never be identified as stolen goods and could be sold as new. All he needed was a suitable sloop. When it arrived in Holland and their stolen items were unloaded he would, in turn, bring back the Dutch stolen property and sell it in London. Their revenues would be much higher and there was little the government could do about it. It would change the way London operated.
All he needed was a man to captain his ship. One who could be trusted and was familiar with the world of thieves. Johnson was not his ideal choice but he had little option. He listened to his explanation of his ingenious idea, quietly intrigued. He couldn't deny the idea was fantastic.
“I'd want complete control over my own crew,” he said as the explanation drew to a close.
“It can be arranged,” Jonathan agreed, “but you'll do what I say.” Roger despised answering to any man, but he thought he could achieve something great from this deal.
“I'll do it, for fifty percent of the profits.”
