by Clive Mullis
She nodded. ‘I do. Anything to get meself out of this life.’
They had to wait a while in her room, just for appearances sake. A two minute knee-trembler didn’t normally happen when she took someone back to her abode, there had to be an element of time and comfort.
Frankie got frustrated with the wait, but Maisie was adamant.
‘Just a few more minutes, then we can go.’
After what seemed an age, Maisie decided that enough time had elapsed. Frankie had measured the time in his head and decided that he didn’t normally take that long: perhaps she overestimated his abilities.
‘About bloody time,’ he said as they left the room. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where I want you to go.’
Arm in arm they walked down the street and then past the pub. They headed down the alley and Frankie noticed that his earlier assailant hadn’t yet moved and still lay in the alcove. He repeated his toe-end into the groin just for good measure, getting a groan in reply; Maisie didn’t give it a second thought. When they emerged into the light on the posh side, Frankie told her where to look, the boot-maker’s, up to the top floor. He pointed out the entrance to use and then he stared up at the window pointing to Maisie as surreptitiously as he could. Eventually he saw a hand wave in acknowledgement and he gave Maisie a little shove to send her on her way.
CHAPTER 24
After spending an informative few minutes listening to Gerald, Frankie now walked into town with a lot of thoughts coursing through his mind. Gerald had told him that earlier that day Fred and Lenny had been knocked on the head and all the stock of gonepowder had gone missing. Ten barrels of the stuff, and nobody seemed to know why. He just knew that someone should know about it, especially after having witnessed what a little bit could do when they had packed it into a small barrel. Concern didn’t come close to how it felt about it disappearing.
Jack and Rose could be anywhere in the city; he could wander around for hours looking for them. He had to go to the Yard and speak to MacGillicudy; he might have some better idea about where they were.
‘How much,’ exclaimed MacGillicudy, when Frankie told him the news. ‘Run that through me again.’
Frankie sighed. ‘Ten barrels were nicked a few hours ago. Nothing has been heard about it since. Gerald has had his ear to the ground, but he’s heard diddly-squat — and that is unusual.’
MacGillicudy took a deep breath, finally registering the importance of what Frankie told him. ‘We both saw what happened with that little barrel. I dread to think what ten of the buggers would do.’
‘Neither would I, but the fact still remains. Ten barrels of gonepowder have been stolen.’
They sat in the commander’s office, the desk between them.
‘Have you any idea where Jack and Rose are?’
MacGillicudy thought for a moment. ‘Rose should be somewhere around Stipple Street, as that’s where I sent Loovis and Sprat. She’s hopping between them two and Gilby and Trump. She said she intended getting the coach to make things easier. I don’t know where Jack is.’
‘Then I’ll have to find Rose; perhaps she has an idea.’
MacGillicudy nodded. ‘I’m going to have to leave that to you. Something is being planned and we don’t know what, when or how.’
Frankie stood up and went to leave, as he got to the door he turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘Jethro, don’t worry about the what, when, and how. All we should really be interested in is the who. The rest will follow.’
Frankie hurried; he worried about leaving Tiffany and Felicity for so long, but they should be safe as they were there just to observe, and sending Maisie to them should help a bit, as she knew most of the feelers, but he couldn’t shift the worry. This communication thingy posed a bit of a problem too, but he couldn’t think of a solution. He walked down the road, mulling it all over in his mind, when he heard a screech of brakes. He looked up and saw Rose staring down at him.
‘Come on, Frankie, stop day-dreaming and climb up.’
‘I was just coming to look for you. Er… you nearly ran me down just then.’
‘If I wanted to run you down, you would already be a piece of strawberry jam spread all over the road.’
‘Oh, thanks. That’s nice, that is.’
Rose snapped the reins before Frankie had a chance to sit down and he sort of thunked into the seat. He looked askance at her.
‘Tell me, have I upset you, per chance?’
‘No, Frankie, I’m just in a hurry. I don’t like leaving Mindy and Hope on their own for too long. Bragwin, Gladys, Jules and Verity seem to be having an easier time of it. I actually think we can forget Gilby and Trump. Neither of them have been out of their houses.’
‘We’ve got something else to worry about now. Lenny and Fred got knocked on the head; all the gonepowder has gone missing.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Rose.
‘Nicked, all of it. I’ve just come from seeing Jethro. Jack needs to know about this. Have you any idea where he is?’
Rose shook her head. ‘Only that he’s following Magot. I drove that way not long ago and couldn’t find him, which means Magot is on the move.’
‘Oh great. That’s just what we want.’
Rose twitched the reins and they turned a corner a bit too sharpish; she put out her hand to apply the brake when the horse, sensing that something had gone wrong, put on a spurt and pulled the coach straight again.
‘That were lucky,’ observed Frankie, relaxing his grip a little.
‘No luck about it. Pure skill.’ She turned her head and flashed a smile, inwardly she hoped her heart would return to normal soon.
The coach slowed to a much more sedate pace as they got closer to Stipple Street.
Frankie explained how he’d left the two girls and Rose agreed that he had done the right thing. Somehow, they had to get word to Jack about the missing gonepowder; its disappearance must indicate something significant. If Magot had left his house to roam the city, then perhaps he intended to roam to where they’d hidden it.
‘Frankie, if you look after Mindy and Hope, then I’ll see to Jack. I can cover far more ground a lot quicker with this thing. I’ll set the other girls free and get them to come to you.’
‘Sensible plan. Loovis and Sprat can’t have much longer to do on their shift.’
‘No, only an hour or so.’
‘Right you are, girl. Just set me down near where they are and we’ll meet up at our office, unless anything untoward has happened,’ he added, just in case.
Magot and Foley disappeared into an old shed behind a now empty merchant’s shop in Cricklybit Lane, a bit of a scummy area, close to the docks, where most of the shops were boarded up. A few smack-heads graced the lane, dealing in their unsavoury habits. Gerald had run most of them out of the Brews as he had a particular dislike for anything drug related.
A little dirt track gave access to the old shed, probably a stable in years gone by, but now it just looked like any old shed.
Cornwallis and the girls walked past and carried on down the lane a little bit. The four of them now looked odd and he had to think quickly to stop anyone getting suspicious.
‘Right, girls, this is where things change. I want the three of you to carry on down the lane and then turn right into Flimsy Road; it’s a main thoroughfare with plenty of traffic, and if I remember right, a few coffee houses. Regina, you can grab a cab and go to the Yard and speak to the commander, and only the commander. Just tell the sergeant on the desk that you have a message from me. Tell him where I am and what we’ve seen. Winnie and Olive, you are to stay in a coffee shop until you hear from me. Olive, you come back and tell me which one you’re in. I’ll hang around on the corner in a bit. At the moment I just want to see if I can get into the merchants.’
The girls nodded. They could tell something about Cornwallis had changed. He had become more urgent, more decisive, as if the odds had been ramped up.
As the girls hurried off, Cornwallis stuffed hi
s hands into his pockets and turned to go back the way he had come. Across the road, two young men were keeping a wary eye on him. Cornwallis crossed the street and walked towards them.
‘Afternoon, gentlemen,’ said Cornwallis as he came within a few feet of them. ‘I’m looking for something that will help get a party going. Any ideas?’
‘A party? With them three?’ replied the tallest, a thin gangly looking specimen with acne and long unkempt hair.
Cornwallis nodded and then grinned. ‘Yes, staying at the Gross Noir Hotel. One of the staff pointed me in this direction.’
‘Did they now?’ replied the shorter, who appeared just as thin as his mate, but looked as if he’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. He had lumps, bumps and bruises all over his face and hands. ‘Normally they sends a boy around.’
'The girls were curious; they wanted to see where it all came from.’
‘Fair enough. You should have let them stay. Could have given you a discount, especially if you had the party here.’
‘Sorry, boys, they like their home comforts.’
The tall one nodded. ‘Lucky you. I expect you want something that makes them willing and you able, then?’
‘Got it in one,’ said Cornwallis with a wink.
The two looked at each other and something passed between them.
‘Better come in and we’ll see what we’ve got.’ The short one gave a gappy smile and then flung open the door. ‘After you, sir,’ he said, holding his hand out.
Cornwallis grinned innocently and took a step forward, fully aware of what they intended.
Living and working with an expert in the eastern arts like Rose had many advantages, one being that she passed on what she had learnt to two private detectives. Over the months, those said detectives became quite adept at various techniques and could employ them in various situations which could be advantageous to their wellbeing, like now.
Cornwallis stepped over the threshold and increased his pace, walking quickly down the hall. He sensed that he had caught the two young men by surprise as they lagged behind. When he turned, he had sufficient distance to go straight on the front foot.
The shorter one had a cudgel already in his hand, which quickly became a cudgel in Cornwallis’ hand after he had chopped down on the arm and relieved him of the weapon. His elbow came up and met the jaw of the taller one at rather a rapid speed and then he used the cudgel on the head of its previous owner. The shorter one fell unconscious and it took another thwack with the cudgel to render the taller one unconscious too, but he probably wouldn’t mind too much as he seemed to be in a bit of pain — the rest would do him some good.
Cornwallis breathed deeply and then quickly checked the house; he found no one else there, so he quickly sorted out some bits that he could use to tie the dealers up. He found two lengths of rope and trussed them up like a pair of turkeys ready for the oven. He then grabbed hold of their collars and dragged them through to the back room where he found something to use as a gag.
Opening the front door a crack, he peered out; it all appeared to be clear, so he hurried down the lane to meet up with Olive.
Olive waited just around the corner looking a bit nervous until she saw him. He quickly explained his plan and that under no circumstances should she or Winnie come to look for him, then he rushed back to the old merchant’s shop.
Checking the front door, he found that it didn’t fit very well and it had an old and cheap lock. A couple of turns with his pick-lock and he soon gained access.
Anything of value had long since disappeared, leaving no clue as to what the merchant once sold; the place had been picked clean of everything, apart from a few old bent rods and some smashed up cupboards. It was dusty and dirty with a smell similar to a rank armpit. He ignored all this and hurried through to the back where he hoped to find the stairs.
He found the stairs behind a door that had begun to rot and he bounded up them two at a time, he took a breath at the top and then searched out a window which overlooked the old shed. He stood looking down out of a filthy window and had an urge to wipe a clean bit so he could see a little better, but he resisted the urge, as it would make it obvious if either Magot or Foley looked up and saw a sparkling bit of window which should be covered in muck.
He could see not one shed, but several; all of varying sizes. He saw Foley come out of the big shed then disappear into one of the smaller ones, pushing an empty wheelbarrow; he cursed having lent Frankie his eye-spy.
Foley emerged after a good few minutes with a barrow full of little bits and pieces. Cornwallis couldn’t see exactly what the barrow contained, but it clanked and rattled as he pushed it over the ruts in the ground.
Cornwallis checked his pocket-watch and found he’d been there for quite a while, watching Foley make several trips, to-ing and fro-ing between the sheds. He really needed to find out what exactly was going on inside the big shed as he could hear a bit of banging coming from it. He tapped his foot in thought.
A couple of minutes later he left his post at the window and rushed downstairs. He had to take a bit of a risk, but if they were doing what he thought they were doing then it would be worth it. He found the door that led out to the back and tentatively tried the handle; thankfully, it still opened. He slunk out, remembering to pull the door shut, just after Foley had gone into the big shed. He scampered across the few yards to the shed and manoeuvred along the side to the back end. He could hear the banging, louder now, coming from inside as he edged his way around the corner. Then he saw Magot roll an empty barrel across the yard from another shed, so Cornwallis knew there must be another door.
As soon as Magot disappeared back into the shed, Cornwallis began to creep along. He stopped, stepped back a bit, and saw that one of the planks had suffered the ravages of time, being bowed and rotten. He poked his finger at it and a few bits of dead wood fell away. A few seconds later, he had made a bit of a hole with the pointy end of his knife.
Rose still looked for Cornwallis. She had done most of the roads leading away from Magot’s but had drawn a blank; confident that he had now crossed the river, she concentrated on the north side. She held the reins loosely and let the horse go at its own slow pace, trying to put herself in his position. He would leave a clue somewhere, or a message, but where? It couldn’t be the office as Maud was still at Pendon; that just left…
She travelled along Flimsy Road, had just gone past Cricklybit Lane and thought about whether to turn around and make her way back. She just hoped that he and the girls were all right and that nothing had happened to them.
A sound interrupted her thoughts and it seemed to be coming from behind her, someone had called out and it sounded urgent. Out of curiosity, she turned her head, and saw Olive running after her.
Immediately Rose slammed on the brake, causing a bit of a commotion behind her as a couple of carts were tailgating.
‘Women bloody drivers,’ yelled the one directly behind her. The horse behind him had slammed into the back of his cart. ‘It’s your bloody fault. Why didn’t you signal? Do you not know how to signal? Look at my cart, the back end is bent.’ He raised his fist and shook it in Rose’s direction.
Behind him, the man inspected his horse for damage. Satisfied that it had only a minor abrasion, he began to berate the driver who had just avoided running into Rose.
The two drivers began to argue with each other and Rose ignored them as Olive puffed up.
‘We saw you go past and thought you were looking for us.’
Rose nodded. ‘I was; I got the message that Jack left at the Stoat, where are you all?’
Olive took a deep breath. ‘In Hexies, the coffee shop. Mr Cornwallis told us to wait there.’
‘Climb up, Olive, and we’ll get away from these two,’ she said, cocking a head to the drivers. ‘Their own fault, they were driving far too close.’
Olive settled down and Rose snapped the reins.
‘Where is he?’ asked Rose, as she ac
celerated away.
‘Down Cricklybit Lane, in an old shop.’
‘Oh, really? Why?’ She found a gap in the on-coming traffic and did a quick U-turn.
‘We followed those feelers there.’
‘Those? You were only following one.’
‘Yes, but he picked up another.’
‘Who?’ she asked with keen interest.
‘Mr Cornwallis said his name was Foley, a young feeler.’
‘Foley? He’s still wet behind the ears. Every time I speak to him, he just turns red and runs away. Hang on; he was the one who picked up the button.’
‘Eh?’
‘Don't worry. Carry on, as you were saying.’
‘Apparently they’re in a shed behind the merchants and Mr Cornwallis is trying to find out why.’
They passed the accident and both looked; the two drivers still hadn’t noticed that they were now on their own.
Rose shrugged; she would have grinned too, but the thought of Jack stuck somewhere on his own made her take things a little more seriously.
A bit further up, Olive indicated the coffee shop and Rose pulled over. Just then, Cornwallis hurried around the corner.
‘No time to talk, Rose. We need the cat.’
CHAPTER 25
Fluffy sat on the spare seat letting the breeze run through his fur; he grinned into the wind, enjoying the feeling immensely. Rose had got a bit of speed up as she hurried back to Cricklybit Lane, even risking a dodgy overtaking manoeuvre on a sharp bend which resulted in a stream of expletives being hurled in her direction. Fluffy’s claws just dug deeper into the leather.
A feeler watched her come hammering down the street and stepped out into the road. He had a speeding ticket on his mind but then he hesitated and dropped the half-raised hand. Just in time, he took a step back, his eyes wide in fear and the colour draining from his face.
‘Hello, Maurice,’ yelled Rose, as they passed. ‘Sorry.’
