by Clive Mullis
Cornwallis returned the grin. ‘Gone to find your friend, the cat. She should have been back by now but we can’t wait any longer, you got here just in time, we need to go.’ He explained briefly what had gone on. ‘I’ll leave a note for her to meet us at Brownlow’s and hope that she’s not too far behind. You can tell me all the details of your incarceration later as you will need to make a slight detour first. I want you to go and see Gerald. Brownlow’s family could be in deep trouble and we need to get them safe.’
‘Bloody hell, you mean I ain’t got time for a coffee?’
‘You haven’t got time to fart, Frankie. Here’s the sign I’ve agreed with Brownlow, half a doodled note. He has the other half and this is the address. It will tell him to trust the bearer of this piece and to do what they say. Ask Gerald to hide the family somewhere and I’ll square it with him later.’
‘So where do I catch up with you?’
‘Maxwell will pick the coach up at four or thereabouts, so I should be in a cab just down the street. If I’m not there then you’re too late, just come back here and wait.’
‘Don’t like the sound of that, we ain’t gonna know where you are; I'd better get a move on then, ain’t I.’
Frankie hurried out and hailed a cab. He had to get south of the river into the Brews and back north in space of just an hour and a bit; he just hoped the traffic would be kind to him.
Cornwallis finished the note to Rose and left it on the desk; he dropped a few coins next to it so she could pay her fare, and left. He just hoped she wouldn’t be far behind.
*
He had a good view of Brownlow’s from where he waited, just up the road on a bend and he told the driver to look as though he was having a break. The driver relished the opportunity of a chase into the unknown; he’d been hoping that something would happen to brighten his normally dull day.
‘Well, guvnor, whenever yer ready, just give me the word,’ said the driver, munching on a cheese sandwich. ‘Ain’t nobody in this ‘ere town can get away from me.’ This was his proud boast and Cornwallis had heard it before.
‘I never doubt you, Coggs, but we don’t need to go hell for leather all the way through the city. All we need to do is to follow at a discreet distance.’
‘But that ain’t no fun, Mr Cornwallis,’ replied Coggs with an air of disappointment. ‘This ‘ere ‘orse goes like the clappers when it’s got a mind to. Two wheel cornering’s are no trouble to this ‘un, I even got it to do a four wheel drift once; shit, you should ‘ave seen that. Beautiful it was, beautiful.’
‘I’m sure it was, but let’s keep to the sedate, this time.’
Coggs happened to be one of Cornwallis’ ever increasing circle of contacts; he’d used him quite regularly as he had proved that he could keep his mouth shut when the need arose. This was one of those times, and Cornwallis breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted him on the rank.
He checked his watch again; still no sign yet of Maxwell and four o’clock approached fast. He hoped Brownlow would manage to keep his composure and not give the game away; he had to take the risk, he just had to hope that nerves wouldn’t get the better of him. He turned his thoughts to the coach that picked Maxwell up earlier, a pool coach from the Treasury — but who had authorised it? Now, that question needed answering. Names of the officials in the department were going through his mind; Dooley, the minister; Kintersbury, the department’s chief secretary; also Witchet, Foogarly, Noundon and Inkley, all juniors in the department. There were others who could have access to a coach, including runners and messengers or even the caterers. Boil it all down, practically anyone could get hold of a Treasury coach. Kintersbury: now why did that name nudge the memory banks? He thought a moment longer and then remembered the handkerchief with a “K” embroidered in the corner. Could it be him? Might be an idea to see if he has some nasty scratches on his face; another task for tomorrow, he thought.
‘Is this the one, sweetheart? Only I’s quite happy where I’s is if it ain’t, youse know.’
Cornwallis heard the voice before he saw the owner and he breathed a sigh of relief, one out of two wasn’t so bad. He poked his head out of the window and smiled as Rose came walking up with Fluffy cradled in her arms. She stroked him and the cat definitely grinned. He flung open the door and Coggs looked around just as Rose disappeared inside. The driver gave a low whistle of approval, but he spoilt the effect by having a mouthful of sandwich at the time.
‘Just in time, Rose,’ said Cornwallis. ‘I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Hello, Fluffy,’ he said to the cat as he bounced against her chest as she sat down. ‘Thanks for agreeing to help.’
‘Youse is the boss man, ain’t youse, sees youse at the window. Youse laughed at me, didn’t youse?’
Cornwallis chuckled. ‘Not at you, Fluffy; at Frankie. I enjoyed seeing him try to handle you.’
‘Well, that’s all right then. Only I don’ts like it when I gets the piss taken out o’ me, people’s tend to live to regret it.’
The cat settled itself on Rose’s lap and began to purr contentedly while Cornwallis looked on. A definite pang of jealousy tingled his neck, but then he wondered why he should be jealous of a cat?
Rose scratched the back of Fluffy’s head as he lay curled up on her lap. ‘He was no trouble, only too willing to help. Apparently the box of fish worked wonders for him and can he have another?’
‘When he’s done what we want,’ replied Cornwallis easily.
He reached forward to pat the cat but then a movement took his attention away. A carch, a cross between a cart and a coach, drew up outside Brownlow’s and the driver got off to open the gate.
‘Yes. I think we’re in business,’ said Cornwallis triumphantly.
Rose looked up and the cat took a little interest too. ‘Never seen one of them before,’ she said, observing the carch.
‘New thing,’ answered Cornwallis. ‘Not many of them around. The front end is a two seater coach and the back end is a cart for carrying stuff around. That’s a long wheelbase one, triple axle, should take quite a load.’
‘So what’s I ‘ere for then?’ asked the cat.
Cornwallis grinned. ‘What we want you to do is sit by the gate, and when the carch comes out, hop on the back. We want to know where it goes. We will be following, but if we lose it then you would be our insurance, if you like. We would wait and you can walk back. If you get near what seems to be their destination then we will stop and wait for you to get out before going any further. Is that clear?’
‘Sounds like a lot of walking to me,’ replied Fluffy. ‘A double box of fish at least.’
‘I think we can stretch that far for a job well done. They’re inside the yard now, so they’ve just got to load the crates and then they’ll be away. We won’t be far behind if all goes well.’
Reluctantly Fluffy relinquished Rose’s lap and dropped down onto the floor. He stretched slow and long and then sat back down. ‘Well, are one o’youse buggers gonna open the bloody door?’
Cornwallis leant across Rose and flicked the handle. Fluffy jumped down and then sauntered over to the gate. He sat down and began to lick his paw as he waited.
‘You can get back up now, he’s gone.’ Rose tapped Cornwallis on the shoulder, who still stretched across her, looking out the door.
Cornwallis turned his head and grinned apologetically. ‘Sorry.’
He sat up and looked forward, straight into a face that only a mother could love: the driver Coggs, leaning down and leering through the window.
‘Oi, you need to get ready, Coggs, put your dinner away and wait for my word, okay?’
Coggs grinned. ‘As you say, guvnor.’ He gave a little salute and then turned back around.
‘Really,’ exclaimed Cornwallis. ‘Give them an inch…’
Rose raised a laconic eyebrow; the exact same thought went through her mind too.
Cornwallis brought Rose up to date as they waited. He still prayed that Frankie would ma
ke it back in time but now he was losing hope; he knew the bridge could be a bugger, and it didn’t take much to snarl it all up. The gate began to swing open and he watched as Fluffy stood up and walked nonchalantly through.
The carch pulled out and the gates closed behind. It then began at a steady pace down the road and Cornwallis ordered Coggs to follow. He took a last look behind and saw a cab approaching with a figure leaning out of the window, Frankie had arrived at last, but he couldn’t risk stopping to wait as the carch had begun to pick up a little pace and they would have no chance of getting in contact with it again. He leant out of the window and waved, and Frankie rewarded him with a thumbs-up.
‘Don’t get too close now, Coggs,’ yelled Cornwallis, above the noise of the cab. ‘Don’t want him to get suspicious.’
Coggs yelled something back that Cornwallis didn’t quite catch, Rose did though and she smiled. It would be best if she didn’t repeat it, as she knew for a fact that he had a father.
The traffic slowed the carch down, and as they got closer they could see Fluffy on the back by the tailgate, the cat wedged between the crates and appearing to be enjoying the ride. They had two carts between them and the carch, which appeared to be heading towards the river, but Cornwallis couldn’t relax; he fidgeted and kept giving pointless instructions to Coggs, who Rose could tell was getting more and more wound up.
‘Why don’t you just let him drive?’ she asked, with a sigh of exasperation.
‘I am,’ responded Cornwallis, ‘I’m just helping him along a bit. There’s an art to tailing someone, just don’t want to give the game away.’
The traffic stopped at a busy intersection and a feeler up ahead tried his best to make things worse. His arms seemed to be waving in all directions at once, but it only created havoc. As they inched forward, Cornwallis could see Dewdrop, his face a picture of despondency, as his arms whirled around him. Cornwallis managed to find a smile, and the sight of the feeler in his agony made him at last relax. The cab stopped for a few minutes while Dewdrop tried to sort the mess out, so Frankie took the opportunity to run the few yards to jump in with Cornwallis and Rose.
‘You cut it fine,’ observed Cornwallis as Frankie sat down and got his breath back.
Frankie shot Cornwallis a look of distain. ‘Fine? And whose sodding fault is that then, eh?’
‘Now, boys,’ interjected Rose. ‘We’re all here now, and that’s the important thing.’
‘You trying telling his lordship here; had me gallivanting all over the place.’
Cornwallis grinned wryly and held his hands up. ‘All right, you win. Now did you get to Gerald?’
Frankie nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s all getting sorted. He’ll get them safe, but you need to go and see him later to find out where they are. Apparently, he’s heard a little about Maxwell, by all accounts a mean vicious bastard. He’s come from out of town, so background’s unknown. The finance place employs him as an enforcer, and he really enjoys his work. He’s recruited a few of the more dense thugs that Gornstock has to offer, pays good money too. Gerald says he did for Freddie.’
Rose saw the body nailed up in her mind and gave a shudder, ‘Sounds like a nice man.’
‘Hey up, we’re off again,’ observed Cornwallis.
Dewdrop had cleared a bit of the jam which allowed the carch to go through, then stopped the vehicle in front of Cornwallis which made him seethe.
‘Go around, Coggs,’ he shouted. ‘Ignore the feeler.’
‘Right you are, guvnor,’ acknowledged Coggs. ‘On your own head be it.’
Frankie grinned. ‘You can’t do that to Lord Cecil you know.’
‘Lord Cecil? What the hell are you on about?’
‘Dewdrop has been calling himself Lord Cecil to attract the ladies, isn’t that right, Rose?’
Coggs pulled the coach out which made a pretty little open carriage, containing what appeared to be a mother and her daughter, on the way back from a shopping expedition, swerve to avoid an accident. The assortment of bags leapt around, spilling its contents and sending clothes, cosmetics, and confectionary everywhere, into a sort of consumer’s trifle. Coggs yelled an apology and carried on; he sped past the cart in front and on into the intersection, just as Dewdrop allowed a wagon from the side to move. Someone screamed abuse at Coggs who gave better back. Dewdrop stood mesmerised, unsure what to do. A cart, the driver thinking that the feeler had allowed him to move, took the chance and entered the melee at pace; another wagon didn’t stop in time and ploughed into the back of a coal wagon, the bags lurching at the sudden stop and toppling over into the street. Other carts and wagons and carriages all saw an opportunity and went for it, all of them aiming straight at Dewdrop who stood forlornly in the middle. Coggs, with a devil like grin, waded through it all, standing on the plate and giving an excited “Ye, ha,” as he cracked the whip.
Cornwallis, Rose and Frankie sunk down into their seats trying to hide their faces, but as they went past Dewdrop, Cornwallis looked up, gazing straight into the face of the young feeler. The feeler’s face was a picture and Cornwallis decided to cast all caution to the wind and grinned back; that’ll teach him to go to Mikel An’ Jello, thought Cornwallis, evilly.
The screams and yells from the intersection receded as they got further away from the carnage; Coggs turned around and looked in with a wild joyous expression. ‘Will that do ya, guvnor? If you want, I can turn around and we can do it all again,’ he said hopefully.
‘Thank you, Coggs, but I think once is enough.’
‘Right you are then, guv,’ he acknowledged with a serious degree of disappointment.
Rose had slunk down to the floor during the episode and was now regaining her seat. ‘Nothing like being subtle and discreet is there?’ she commented to Cornwallis, as she got comfortable.
‘Hmmm, perhaps that didn’t go quite to plan,’ he replied contritely. ‘Ah well, we’re still in touch with the carch, if nothing else.’
‘Let’s hope they weren’t looking behind during all that ruckus,’ said Frankie, who enjoyed it all no end. ‘A good bit of driving though; got to take me hat off to Coggs, the way he got through it all.’
They continued the chase as though nothing had happened, and it appeared that those on the carch had not seen the problems that Coggs had caused either. Cornwallis breathed a sigh of relief. The bridge was up ahead and they proceeded in a much more sedate fashion now, so Rose and Frankie explained about Dewdrop, much to Cornwallis’ amusement.
Just before they got to the bridge, the carch turned right and went down a slope to the north shore waterfront and Cornwallis instructed Coggs to follow more slowly and carefully now. The carch pulled away and appeared to be heading towards the north docks where a few ships were moored. The carch began to slow down and Cornwallis ordered Coggs to pull up somewhere out of view; they daren’t go any further without being seen and suspected.
Cornwallis got out and stood at the side looking forward, seeing lots of activity in the distance. It came to him suddenly that the carch had stopped roughly where the disused warehouse that MacGillicudy had searched was located. He scratched his chin in thought and walked forward to the edge of the river. He looked down into the murky brown depths and sniffed, smelling salt and wet vegetation, but most of all, wee and shit. A turd floated by, hit the bank and did a little pirouette before re-joining the flow once more.
‘You seem to be fascinated by something, let’s have a look.’ Rose had come up to his shoulder and followed his gaze. ‘Oooh, nice. Get another and you can have poo races.’
Cornwallis chuckled. ‘The start would be interesting, arse over the rail, trousers around the ankle, three, two, one, and strain.’
Rose laughed, and it made Cornwallis think of a fresh clear mountain stream tinkling its way down over the rocks.
‘What you doing?’ asked Frankie, coming to join them.
‘Racing,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘But Rose declined to start.’ He received a nudge from an elbow which actu
ally hurt. ‘Right, back to work,’ he said, rubbing the spot happily.
They stared along the busy wharves towards the ships, full of activity from the loading and unloading of goods and equipment. Massive cranes were swinging out over holds and drawing up the cargo, and then teams of workers were putting it all on carts and barrows and dragging them away. Streams of workers were moving along gang-planks with the smaller boxes and crates, dodging and weaving between it all. The crane drivers were big powerful polar bears and gorillas, the strongest of the strong, as they had to power the massive mechanisms needed to lift the huge weights. It was Gornstock’s hub, its lifeblood, where goods from far and wide came to the city, and exports, Gornstock’s finest, for the delectation of the world, went out. Cornwallis knew that this made Gornstock tick, the thing that kept the city running, commerce on a massive scale with the whole world involved. If a country produced something commercial then it was likely to turn up here.
Because of the amount of workers flooding over the area, it made observation difficult, so now they had to be patient and wait until the cat came back. Cornwallis began to pace with the enforced hiatus in proceedings, always keeping a wary eye on the wharves and of course the seagulls, who took obvious delight in targeting anyone beneath them. A good few minutes passed and he decided, regardless of whatever was happening, that he had to know, when the cat made a sudden appearance amongst the throng, sauntering along with its tail high in the air.
‘Hey, Fluffy,’ cried Frankie. ‘Over here, son.’
The cat swung over and Cornwallis opened the door to the cab. The cat jumped in first followed by Rose and Frankie; he climbed in last.
‘Well?’ asked Cornwallis when he’d sat down. ‘What happened?’
Fluffy jumped up onto Rose and padded her lap before settling down contentedly. ‘They’s loading them crates onto that big ship out there, but I’s suspect youse thought that. The interesting thing is that the man I scratched is there, youse know, the one ‘oo let yer man outta the winda.’
