Wild Intentions (The Legend of the Thief Taker)

by Chris Hales

Jonathan burst out in laughter, gripping his pistol once again. “Ten percent of the profits.”

  Roger rolled his eyes. “Fifty.”

  “You're not used to bartering, are you?” he laughed. Roger kept to his guns, refusing to give in.

  “Not really, no.”

  Pointing his pistol at Roger, Jonathan raised a single eyebrow. “I suggest you learn,” Matthew prodded his firearm into Roger’s side. “Ten percent is all you'll get. For that I'll allow you to choose your own crew.” He kicked the carriage door open, gesturing for him to leave.

  This amount was finally settled on and it was arranged he would arrive at Cock Alley the next morning to discuss the details. Before he departed Jonathan had only one other request.

  “I have another matter for you to help me with,” he said. His assistance was imperative in performing the trickiest of movements.

  126

  Only one thing remained. To employ the help of yet another.

  Jonathan knew where he lived. He had ensured such information was made available to him long ago, should he be in need of it. Now was the perfect time. He approached his front door and knocked lightly, hoping it would appear friendly and unthreatening.

  Slowly the door was pulled back, Tom peering curiously at his caller.

  “May I have a word?” He smiled, stepping back into his home.

  “Please, Jonathan, come inside.” He could easily tell he was worried, in need of someone's help and assistance.

  He stepped indoors, pushing the door closed to a crack. Tom's young daughter ran across to them, giggling childishly. He placed a hand atop her head, drawing her to a stop. “Catherine, say hello to Jonathan, my friend.” She said nothing, shying away. “Go and sit with your mother,” he instructed, forcing her to vanish into the house. He looked questioningly to Jonathan.

  “Tom,” he started. “I need your help,” He urged him to continue. “Your daughter’s a lovely young girl,” he said, motioning to the room where she had vanished. “And my son is the reason why I'm here today.”

  “Is everything alright?” he asked with deep concern.

  He smiled awkwardly. “If you remember, my son is currently in the possession of my father and Charles Hitchin,” Tom didn't feel any less uneasy. “I have a proposal for you.”

  “Why do I feel this is going to get me into trouble?” he questioned.

  He approached Tom, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “You know who Charles is and what he's done to this city.” He was well aware of this fact. Although he also knew not a thing could be done about it. “I would ask, if it were possible, whether you would consider forcing entry into his home, with a force of marshals and constables.”

  He shrugged, shaking his head. “To what end?” he asked. “We both know no charges will ever hold up against the protection which Mr Hitchin has in place.”

  Nothing could impede him and his dubious actions. Everyone knew this.

  “Let me explain...,” he said as he drew him closer, his mind finalising the elements of his risky game.

  127

  The preparations were made quickly. Tom and a large force of marshals and constables gathered before Hitchin's house in the early hours of the next morning. It was a venomous hive and such a force would have been easily noticed. The murmurings of their plans of action would have spread far and wide. Jonathan was counting on it.

  The idea wasn't to arrest Charles. They needed to separate him from his dangerous thieves. Tom wasn’t subtle in his efforts to find men who’d willingly follow him. They hoped word would spread, alerting him to the attack. He would move onto another place. Somewhere they could hide with Joseph, but Jonathan’s spies would follow them, reporting their true location.

  Those who agreed to follow Tom's men were hopeful only for a good fight and the benefits such arrests would be to their careers. The fight would be both long and hard, but Tom knew all he was offering Jonathan was a suitable distraction.

  Lined up before the house they rushed at the front door, forcing it open. Violence could be sensed in this accursed house, infecting every man in the vicinity. It was as two of his marshals were shot down with pistols Tom realised he may have agreed to this action far too quickly.

  128

  Hitchin was not at home that morning, he had moved from the house when word reached him of the coming attack. Jonathan had ensured he was followed the night before and he and three others crept into a dull looking boarding house, sneaking up the stairs to knock on the first locked door.

  Charles opened and stood before them, taken aback by the sinister sight before him. Matthew and Ian stood either side of Jonathan, each pointing a pistol at the portly marshal. He held his own to Charles's forehead.

  “Morning,” he said as he forced him back into the room. “It's been a long time.” Jonathan kept his pistol directed at his head, glancing to his side where he noticed Jacob standing in the corner.

  “What do you want, Jonathan?” he asked.

  “My son.” The city marshal pushed into the pistol, unafraid of the weapons trained upon him. “I know you're not threatened by any of us and you'd fight for what you believe to be valuable.” This was all Joseph was to him. Priceless property.

  “You abandoned the boy for the second time, Jonathan,” he grumbled the words as if they were a threat. “Do you really think his grandfather would give him up again so easily?”

  Jonathan looked to his father, his eyes displaying the hate which was driving him. “Oh, I'll get to him in a minute.” He lowered the pistol and looked to the open door in anticipation.

  “You honestly think that now you're back, we'll succumb so easily to your will?” Jacob stepped forward hoping to add his own abhorrence to the conversation.

  “Shut up,” Jonathan snapped. “There's no need for us to fight. I brought someone along to do that for me,” he looked towards the hallway. “Or would you risk being humiliated again?”

  Charles followed his gaze to the open door, watching as another entered the room. Roger smiled as he walked to Jonathan's side. The only man to ever beat Hitchin in a fight squared up, preparing himself for combat.

  “You're working for Jonathan?” he asked with worry.

  “No,” replied Roger. “I'm working with Jonathan. There's a difference.” He pushed at Hitchin, causing the older man to stumble backwards. “Let's not make this any harder than it has to be.” It was a very clear warning.

  Turning to Matthew, Jonathan gave the most important order. “Matthew, if you'd be kind enough to get Joseph.” He pointed to the next room knowing he would be inside, quietly trembling in expectation of punishment. He nodded his agreement and left the party.

  “We won't stand for this!” Jacob exclaimed loudly. “You won't get away with it.” He knew Charles would respond forcefully.

  Jonathan turned to his father angrily. “You're no better than him. Don't think I don't know what you've been up to. What you did to poor Anne.” He knew his father had a hand in her passing. He could tell he and Charles were planning much more. “I swear to God if you two ever come within a mile of those whom I care for I will kill you. This ends now.” It wasn't just a warning. It was a serious threat.

  “Nothing ever ends, Jonathan,” said Hitchin. He would make sure of it.

  “This is your only warning,” he cautioned again. “I suggest you heed it well.” He turned as Matthew re-entered the room with Joseph in tow. “Hello, Joseph,” he said to his son, then turning back to Charles and his father. “I think we're done here.” They all made for the exit, yet Roger remained before Hitchin.

  “Shame,” he grumbled. “I was looking forward to making this pussy cry.” He pushed Hitchin one final time before Jonathan pulled him away.

  “Nothing ends, Jonathan...” Hitchin called out again as they happily descended the stairs.

  129

  “Great,” wailed Jacob. “What the bloody hell do we do now?” he was losing patience. When Hitchin had originally contacted him he
had been given the impression this entire process would be complete in a matter of weeks. It had already been far too long and he was tired of waiting.

  “Nothing's changed,” said Hitchin. “We still do as we planned. We don't need the boy.” Possession of Joseph was neither here nor there. It only rounded things off in the event of Jonathan’s death. Everything they wanted to achieve would still be possible without the boy.

  “It seems all of our efforts have been for nothing,” he imagined they had met with a dead end. That nothing was possible now. It seemed his son knew the truth.

  “We're not done yet,” he knew the game wasn’t over. He knew there was still much to be done. “Jonathan may have a new vigour in life, but he'll dig his own grave.” He was sure he could see future events. Foresee the death of their former apprentice.

  “All we have to do is wait?” he asked.

  “Yes, Jonathan's not the man he used to be.” They had forced a change. First he had run, then he had stayed away for far too long and now he had struck out at the woman he claimed to love. There was no coming back from this. Hitchin was sure the errors would continue to roll down the never ending hill. “He will die. We only have to wait until he's in over his head.” He knew Jonathan could still be pushed in the right direction.

  130

  Four men and a young boy walked the streets of London, feeling refreshed and unbeatable. Joseph remained quiet, only murmuring his answers to those questions he was asked.

  Arriving back at Cock Alley he inspected his son for the signs of torture he knew would have been inflicted. Fresh marks covered the boys back and arms. His face was still sore and red from where he had been slapped or punched for disobeying his grandfather or Charles.

  Matthew stood by, watching the father examine his son. He could tell he was having great difficulty witnessing the damage which had been inflicted. It brought forth far too many ghastly memories.

  “I'm sorry, Joseph,” he apologised warmly. “I never should have left you.”

  Joseph nodded his head, agreeing with his father's sentiment.

  “Never leave this house. We're here to protect you,” he brushed his son's hair away from his eyes. “Me,” he gestured towards his large friend. “Matthew, Ian...”

  “Mary,” Joseph added.

  Again guilt bit hungrily, forcing him to consider what he had done. “Yes, Mary too.”

  Joseph was a bright boy. He could immediately tell there was something wrong. “Has something happened to Mary?” he enquired as a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

  “No,” he reassured. “Mary's fine.” He didn't want to lie to his son. “We've just had a falling out is all.” Emotion finally took a hold of Jonathan, forcing him to lurch forward and hug his son tightly. “Never run away again, Joseph,” he sobbed. “We'll care for you, I promise.”

  “Will you never leave me?” the boy inquired, desperate for his father’s protection.

  “No, Joseph,” he said. “I'll always be here.”

  He knew this wouldn't always be the case. He may be forced to leave them all again, sooner rather than later. He had much to do, however, before that happened.

  131

  Things changed rapidly in London. Over the coming months everything was transformed for the better. The terrible incident with Mary was never mentioned again. It was forgotten between Matthew and Jonathan. Isabel, however, persisted in casting cold glances and hateful stares at him because of the damage he had done to her madam. He had tried numerous times to spur Matthew into conversation about those terrible events, but he always expertly avoided the subject. It surprised even him how he hadn't done the Thief Taker any harm.

  Their new way of doing business had started well. Better than anyone had expected. Their ship had been delivered on time and a crew quickly assembled. The management of thieves didn't really change and when they heard of his return the robbers of London flocked back to Jonathan and his new methods. The tables had now turned once again. The size of his own gang grew and grew, while Hitchin's collection of criminals declined with each passing day.

  The thieves still did their job well, robbing people on the streets, housebreaking and employing all manner of other underhand tequnices. Jonathan had purchased a number of large warehouses in the London docks, where he would store all of their stolen goods and those items handed over by the Dutch. Careful about keeping these articles all in one place, they were moved almost continuously between the warehouses. It was a good way of working and no other could compete.

  To keep his name in good standing he continued to arrest and deliver thieves to the courts. Usually those allied to Hitchin he would often also capture those who had angered him in some way. Once again, Jonathan was king of Old London Town.

  Roger Johnson was doing an admirable job. He would sail port to port, delivering and collecting stolen goods. The Dutch items would then be sold to pawnbrokers or shops across London with no chance of incrimination. As happy as he was with Roger, he was paying him a far lower cut of the profits than he had promised, although this was still an exceptionally large amount of money. His crew was honest and hardworking, although everyone had heard tales of Roger's brutality towards his employees.

  Despite their apparent friendship Tom Edwards was busily trying to discover how Jonathan and his thieves were operating. He was no longer concerned with finding the reason for the continued operation of thieves and had been instructed on many occasions to leave Jonathan well alone, but his personal interest forced him to keep a close eye on the thieves of London and the little house on Cock Alley. The Thief Taker still returned goods to their owners and his only visitors were people who had recently been robbed.

  The Thief Taker was still as effective as he once claimed to be.

  Charles Hitchin, however, was suffering. He didn't know how Jonathan was doing so well. He would find out, of this he was sure, but just like Tom he went to great effort in keeping a close eye on him. He needed to know what he was doing so he could ensure his arrest and hopefully his death.

  132

  Mary's world had also changed. She hardly serviced men nearly as much as she had in the past. Her terrible scar was the awful reason for this. She did her best to keep her distance from Jonathan, always afraid of what she may do.

  Her girls still answered to him and it was Isabel who volunteered to visit the little house on Cock Alley each day with their takings. Mary knew, as all the girls did, she only wanted to see Matthew. Jonathan knew she may have hated him, but he took the time, each day, to thank her for everything she did.

  Isabel and Matthew would spend time with Joseph, listening to him read and playing childish games. He obviously admired Matthew and thought a great deal of Isabel. Jonathan was busy, busier than he ever had been, yet each evening he would find time to sit with his young son.

  Memories of Mary always niggled at him, begging for his attention. He missed her, but he couldn't risk hurting her again. He didn't want her involved in his greater plan.

  133

  Charles Hitchin was determined to destroy Jonathan. He had spent much time investigating methods how to get his spies within his enemy’s ranks. He had only given them one order of note.

  “Find out everything you can. I want this bastard to burn.”

  Shortly after he had sent them to Jonathan, he learned what he was up to and discovered how he was doing it. It was genius, he couldn't deny this, but he would soon discover it would be his undoing.

  He would make it a certainty.

  Considering their past relationship, both the good and the bad, Charles needed help. He needed someone else to do the hard tasks for him. His reasons for using a new boy would quickly become clear.

  He cornered Tom Edwards in the Bailey one bright afternoon. The sun streamed through the windows, creating wonderful patterns across the floor and making the courthouse feel far friendlier than it should. Pushing him back towards the wall Hitchin started his enquiry.

  “Are you still int
erested in Jonathan Wild?” he enquired.

  “Not officially,” Tom answered. “I was taken off that case some time ago.”

  Hitchin laughed, slapping Tom on the back. “But you are still interested?”

  He moved away sharply, distancing himself from his iniquitous colleague. “I may be,” he admitted, “but considering your relationship with Jonathan I don't consider you the most valuable of sources.”

  “So,” grinned Hitchin. “You don't want to know how his operation works.”

  Tom chuckled. He knew what game Hitchin was playing. “What do I have to do for this information?”

  “Nothing,” he laughed. “I just thought you may like the credit for this catch.” This was intriguing, but Tom thought he knew the reasons for this offer.

  Charles Hitchin was suffering. Everyone knew this. His gang was a fraction of the size it once was, his reputation and skill as a contender for the title of Thief Taker was in question. He was not the man he once was.

  “Go on then,” he instructed, intrigued as to where this would lead him. “Tell me what you know.”

  He leaned against the wall, hoping Tom would do the job he held so high in his mind. He was playing games no longer and if he couldn't get to the accursed Thief Taker he would have another do it for him. It would appear far more legitimate. “Jonathan has a number of warehouses filled with stolen goods. These stores are the crux of his whole operation.”

  He smiled slowly, doubt creeping in beneath his skin. “And you hope I arrest him, leaving you free to inherit his empire,” he chuckled. “Jonathan will never be so easy to catch.”

  “I can tell you where these warehouses are,” he informed gladly.

  As much as he hated to admit it that did intrigue him. He knew, however, it would be far more complicated than this. Nothing was easy. Hitchin told him what he knew, always encouraging Tom to action. There was little which could realistically be done about the Thief Taker, or Charles Hitchin, but he was interested to see where it took him. Tom's investigation had started once again.