Coils of the Anaconda

Lord Blackheart and the Coils of the Anaconda

Chapter 1 – Blackheart.

My name is Ralph, Ralph Butcher, but to all the world I am known as Raif. Why? Well that is down to my, well what should I call him, boss, benefactor, friend, penance, I’m not entirely sure, not that it matters, all you need to know for now is that because of him Ralph Butcher died on the fields of Flanders and Raif Mortis rose from the ashes to take his place.

You may think this strange, and in many ways it is, but that was just one of many deceptions in a long line of deceptions that has led me here, to now, which as my old man, god rest his soul, would say is a bit of a rum pickle, if staring down the barrel of a Webley revolver could ever be so understated. So how did I get here, well you need to roll back a few years to 1915 and a worn torn battle field under a blazing Turkish sun on the peninsula known as Gallipoli.

I had been part of yet another failed charge across no man’s land to get at Johnny Turk. Predictably, as with every other mad suicidal charge that had gone before, we never got anywhere near the enemy trench, cut down as we were by machine gun fire before we made it twenty yards beyond the wire. I was lucky, I managed to throw myself into a shell hole before hot metal turned me into so much offal. At about the same time as I dove into the hole I was joined by an officer diving headlong in there with me.

‘If I ever get my hands on the idiot that ordered this charge then the blighter is going to wish he’d gone over the top with us.’ he cursed sitting up and spitting dirt.

Crouched as he was, I couldn’t quite determine his height but he looked long limbed, athletic and not as gaunt as the rest of us had become over the months we’d been here, then again he was an officer so probably eating better than us rank and file. But it wasn’t that that caught my eye but the boyish devil may care grin that he flashed at me as he said ‘Don’t mind me old chap, I just do so detest getting shot at, makes me quite cranky.’

‘Sir.’ I replied, not really knowing what to say.

‘I think we can dispense with the formalities soldier while we share this rotting hole. I always think if one is about to die alongside a man one should at the very least treat travel to the other-side with him as a brother. Blackheart.’ he said and held out a hand.

I have to admit this was rather strange behaviour, normally when one is stuck in a shell hole with bullets flying overhead one does not hold pleasantries as though on a casual Sunday walk. This Blackheart chap though just embodied a sense of calm that was infectious, so instead of calling him a bloody idiot and to keep his head down I took his hand and shook it, ‘Ralph’ I replied.

‘Jolly nice to meet you Ralph. Well I don’t know about you but I don’t think leaving this hole would be good for our health.’ he said sitting down, back against the earth, pulled out a silver cigarillo case, flicked it open with practised nonchalance and offered me a cigarette, which I accepted gladly, then took one for himself. Once lit he took a long drag and continued, ‘I think we should just sit this battle out and crawl back to our own lines tonight once all this nonsense has died down. What say you Ralph?’

I looked up and could see the tell tale trails of a bullets flight occasionally passing overhead, and the ripping of the air as they flew past. I could also hear the screams of the wounded and dieing that surrounded us on all sides, mixed with the compressive hot roiling air as large shells landed too close for comfort. ‘Yeah here seems good.’ I agreed and took another drag on the cigarette, put my rifle down by my side, sat facing Blackheart.

‘Where you from Ralph?’

‘London. Ealing.’

‘Very nice. I’m from Lancashire myself. Rather wishing I was back there now, god I miss the rain.’

Rain, yes, what I wouldn’t give for rain right now. The land here was baked hard under an unforgiving summer sun, which burnt skin and left everyone constantly parched as our cracked lips readily testified. Just the thought of rain triggered my thirst so unstopping my water bottle I took a quick swig and not seeing any such bottle upon my shell hole companion offered it across. Blackheart took it graciously taking a thirsty gulp.

‘Damn that’s good, oh bugger!’

‘What?’

‘Can’t you hear that?’ he asked.

‘Hear what?’

‘Exactly.’

‘What?’

‘It’s gone quiet, the firing’s stopped and, ah yes, there we go, whistles.’

Whistles, the familiar sound of the trenches that signalled a death defying charge across no man’s land at the enemy.

Blackheart shuffled up towards the top of the shell hole, keeping his head just below it’s lip, flicked open his cigarillo case again and held it up, open lid facing the Turkish lines. The mirror in the lid that I’d failed to notice before giving Blackheart a view of the Turkish trenches, ‘Bloody fools.’ he sighed.

‘What is it? What’s happening?’

‘The Turks are attacking.’

‘Christ!’

‘Got to feel sorry for the buggers. They’ve just seen what their guns did to our side running across here, they must know that the same will hit them from our side.’

Sure enough Blackheart’s dark prophecy manifested as from our own side machine gun and rifle fire swept across the small expanse of land between the two trench systems, where only the dead, and currently Blackheart and I resided. Almost immediately screams of pain, terror and mutilation rose from the Turkish ranks. Still looking into his mirror Blackheart watched the scene unfolding with mounting despair.

‘Brave lads. Brave stupid lads. I almost feel sorry for them.’

‘Sir?’ informality forgotten.

‘Their commanders are every bit as stupid and blood thirsty as ours Ralph, and with as little regard for their men’s lives. You know we’d all be better if both sides just joined each other and shot our generals instead.’ I looked askance at Blackheart, my shock at his treasonous words must have been evident as he laughed caustically, ‘What, don’t tell me you and your oppos haven’t thought that yourselves after being sent on yet another fruitless charge.’ my sudden downcast eyes gave me away. ‘Yes just as I thought, don’t worry Ralph, your secret is safe with me. This is just between you and….. damn, get ready some of the Turks are still on their feet and heading right for us.’

Blackheart snapped shut his case, flung himself to the other side of the shell hole, service revolver pointing in the direction the Turks were coming. My mouth suddenly dry with fear I grabbed my rifle, cocked the bolt and next to Blackheart raised it ready to fire at anyone who dared to drop into our hole.

The noise around us intensified as shells began to rain down around us, the earth shaking and rocking beneath our very bodies, Spouts of earth kicked high into the sky showered upon us, and I feared any second a shell would land in here with us blowing us to kingdom come, but it didn’t, instead suddenly bodies began streaming past either side of our refuge, shouts roaring from open mouthed faces etched with fear, at least three were ripped apart at the crest of our shell hole, the force of the bullet impacts causing them to spin, shudder and stumble backwards. Then suddenly one that did not fall leapt down into our hole. He was huge, heavily bearded, brandishing a rifle and bayonet. I fired, unable to miss at that distance, his blood showered me in its sticky cloying warmth, but before I could cock my rifle a second one dropped into our hole, Blackheart pulled the trigger on his revolver but the thing failed to fire. With Blackheart caught prone and with nothing to defend himself the Turk thrust forward with his rifle, the wicked bayonet at it’s end aimed directly at Blackheart’s gut.

Blackheart froze, the Turk yelled and somewhere a voice shouted ‘NOOOOOOOOOO!’ followed by ‘AARGH!’ as the bayonet went through my shoulder. It had been my voice, I suddenly realised, as the Turk pushed a booted foot against my chest yanking his bayonet free, I collapsed backwards on top of Blackheart. I screamed again at the pain as it tore muscle and sinew, and horrified I looked up into the face of the Turk, filled with bloodlust as he prepared to skewer me again. Time slowed, it really does you know, I saw the sun flash off the long blade, felt my own blood drip upon my face as it fell from its tip as it plunged towards me, then suddenly stop as a bang went off by my left ear, followed by another two, the man, a look of surprise mixed with fear and pain staggered momentarily before pitching forward, his rifle still in his hands shoved the bayonet through my shoulder a second time as he landed upon me, dead.

Despite the ringing in my left ear I heard Blackheart say ‘Lay still.’ I did as I was told, actually I passed out, which may be why I complied.

When I came to, the Turk was no longer upon me, but had been rolled off to one side. The bayonet had been taken from my shoulder and a field dressing applied. Blackheart sat nearby smoking a cigarette and watching me with some concern. Then the pain hit me and I cried out in agony.

‘Ah thank god you’re alive.’ said Blackheart with a hefty sigh of relief.

I felt weak, my shoulder screamed at me as incessant waves of pain caused me to throw up. ‘Am, am I dying?’ I asked pitifully.

Blackheart crawled over to me, took my water bottle and gave me a small drink from it. ‘No Ralph, you’ll live.’ and flashed that carefree smile again. Even though the initial strike hadn’t killed me, I knew the wound could still kill me, I’d had enough mates who’d died from the most innocuous of wounds, but something in that smile told me I’d be okay.

As I lay trying not to scream from the pain Blackheart spoke ‘You saved my life old boy, whatever made you do it?’

‘What, no, you saved me.’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘Hardly, you threw yourself between me and that fella’s bayonet. By rights I should be dead, you put yourself in its way, why?’

‘I, I don’t know.’ I replied honestly, hell I couldn’t even remember doing it, even though my shoulder testified to the truth of it.

‘Well you jolly well did. I won’t forget that Ralph.’

I didn’t reply, instead began to shake uncontrollably as shock began to set in.

‘Now now Ralph, hold it together. It’ll be dark soon and then we’re getting out of here and back to our own lines. Just hang on.’ he patted my good shoulder and placed a cigarette between my shaking lips and lit it for me. The smoke filled my lungs and a sense of calm fell over me, my shaking becoming more spasmodic than constant. ‘Top chap.’ he nodded encouragingly.

Time passed slowly, I think I must have passed out and come too a few times, I lost any track of time but eventually night fell, and good to his word, between the harsh light of the occasional flare being chucked up into the sky and a few random shell bursts Blackheart dragged me back to our trenches. Once there he found some stretcher bearers and had me taken away to the field station.

I saw no more of Blackheart, though a very large, well appointed hamper found its way to my sick bed with a note that simply read Thanks, B. I never thought I would see the charming, calm captain again with a nice line in cigarettes and openly treasonous thoughts.

As I ruminated on my brush with death at Gallipoli a nasty laugh snapped me back to the present. Now I don’t know why staring into the face of a Chinese ruffian, with a long drooping moustache, dressed in an expensive Saville Row suit pointing a gun at me made me think of that meeting with Blackheart, you’d think if this was to be my last thought on this earth it would instead be of something more pleasurable, a dalliance with a pretty girl, family, a memory of something beautiful perhaps, not a time of horror and death, I guess I would never know.

The Chinese thug said something I didn’t understand, cackled and moved his finger to the trigger, I tensed, closed my eyes and prepared for the end, hearing the unmistakable click of the gun’s hammer being cocked to fire………


Chapter 2 – The Letter

……..I closed my eyes and prepared for the end. The unmistakable click of the gun’s hammer being cocked to fire caused me to tense……., then nothing? No bang, no sudden piercing pain before never ending blackness. Was I dead, was death really this painless and dark? I paused a moment more, when nothing changed I cautiously opened my eyes, one at a time. Well I’ll be damned, I wasn’t dead after all, well that’s a relief. The Chinese thug still had his gun but now it dangled loosely from a finger though the trigger guard. More importantly a shadow lurked behind the chap, holding a gun to his head.

‘Now, we really can’t have you shooting Raif,’ said the shadow, ‘drop your gun and do as I say and you may live to see the morning.’

The Chinese chap said nothing but let the gun drop to the floor.

‘Excellent. I would so hate to have to shoot you so up close and personal, I’d never get the blood out of my tuxedo and that simply wouldn’t do. So if you don’t want to ruin my evening wear here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to run, and you are going to keep running till you make it back to your boss. Then, when you’ve got your breath back, because I’m not a monster, you are going to tell your boss to back off. I will get him the trinket he wants, but it takes time. Remind him I’m an artist, not some crash and bang thief. He paid me for my discretion. Discretion takes time. He needs to trust me. Oh and if he ever sends you to threaten me, or Raif here, again tell him I will hunt him down, find out what’s most important to him and take it, abuse it and discard it. I will dig into his past and find out every dirty little secret he harbours and I will bring it to the light and level so much shame upon him his only option will be to take his own fat miserable life. Do you understand? Don’t speak, just nod.’

The gun barrel had never left the fellows temple, he nodded, carefully.

‘Great, well off you trot.’ and the gun was removed just like that. The Chinese thug took a deep breath and ran. It wasn’t a good run, it was ungainly and clearly the run of someone unused to that kind of exertion, but it was a run that was determined to carry it’s body as far away from the polite madman with the revolver as fast as it could.

I took a deep breath and said ‘You took your time, I though my time was up.’

Stepping out of the shadows and into the weak yellow light cast by the street lamp Lord Devlin ‘Loquacious’ Blackheart gave me a beaming smile and quipped, ‘Oh come on, it wouldn’t be fun if it was easy.’

‘Being shot isn’t fun.’

‘But it is exciting.’ Blackheart’s eyes practically flared.

‘Hmmm if you say. Can we get out of here.’

‘Of course. I think a quick snifter in the Chelsea Club then we’ll see where the night takes us.’

‘It’s 2am.’

‘Exactly, the night is still young.’ and laughing like a loon Blackheart slapped me on the shoulder, the old wound was still tender even to this day causing me to wince, and not for the first time as I followed Blackheart into the night in search of drink and god knows what else, I wondered how my life would have turned out had I not put myself between him and a Turk’s bayonet all those years ago.

I shan’t bore you with the details of that night’s after hours entertainments, fun as they most definitely were, instead I shall regale you with how we got mixed up with London’s criminal Chinese underworld.

1923 started with a bang, well more a gulp of an excellent champagne, followed by a fine cigar at a party whose host I cannot quite remember. The party had been wild, with semi naked dancing girls, liberal amounts of drink and drugs, ridiculous wagers made and lost, all amid a goodly dose of ribald behaviour from all involved. A couple of years back this had all been new to me, before the war I was just a working class lad, never would have I dreamed of ever moving in such rarefied circles. However as the re-imagined Raif, friend to the louche and popular Lord Blackheart, a whole new world had been opened up to me. One of parties, debauched behaviour, excessive wealth, and a type of criminality that far exceeded that of the common thuggery and petty larceny that pervaded working class London.

Blackheart strode across it all with a good natured confidence and bonhomie that disguised his darker tendencies. He was like a happy shark that other fish felt comfortable about as he never went to bite them, only they didn’t see the bloodlust he’d unleash when prying eyes weren’t watching. But 1923, it started with promise, and during the first half of the year lived up to it with extravagant soirées, fishing trips to Scotland, a quick jaunt to Monte Carlo for a bit of high stakes gambling, mixing with French socialites, a brief dalliance with a rather delectable contortionist I met at the Moulin Rouge, yes a fine year it was turning into, then the letter arrived.

I remember it well, we had just breakfast at Devlin’s aunt’s summer house in Maidenhead. I was sat reading a copy of the Times, Blackheart was idly throwing knives at the target he’d had erected in the dining room where normally a mirror would hang. I’d long since learned to tune out the thunk, thunk, thunk of knives embedding themselves into the hessian covered wood, when the altogether different thunk of letters hitting the floor after being pushed through the letterbox invaded our morning’s calm.

‘Be a good chap and get those would you?’ Blackheart asked as he sent another blade whirling across the dining room.

Placing my paper down I went to collect the mail, flicking through the envelopes as I returned to the dining room, ‘Letter for your aunt, letter for your aunt, letter for your aunt, nothing of any, oh hang on, what’s this?’ I said holding up the one envelope that stood out from all the rest. The envelope was of excellent quality, the script upon it flamboyant and clear, and most interesting of all the seal upon it was that of a Griffin, showing in fine detail, this was made by a high quality seal indeed. Addressed to “the Blackheart”, and by that I mean it was addressed to a drawn black heart, not a name, Blackheart’s unofficial professional moniker. I carried it into the dining room placing it on the dining table. ‘Its for you.’ I said.

Blackheart flicked one more knife at the board, snorted in disgust as it clipped one of the other knives already embedded in the target, clattering noisily to the floor. Blackheart picked up the envelope, held it high examining it in the morning light streaming through the window. ‘Mmmmm interesting, do you know who’s seal this is?’

‘No idea.’

‘This is the rather ostentatious seal of Ma Lè Kuàng.’

‘Who is Ma Lè Kuàng?’ I asked intrigued.

‘He is the third most powerful Chinese crime baron in London, and probably the singularly most ambitious.’

‘And what does he want with you?’

‘Damn good question, let’s take a look see.’ Blackheart slit the seal with one of his throwing knives taking out the letter from within. He spent maybe a couple of seconds reading it before passing it to me.

The letter was perfunctory, simply requesting an audience with the Blackheart at an allotted time and place. ‘Is that it?’ I asked.

‘It would seem so?’

‘And are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Going to meet with him?’

‘You know I rather think I will.’

‘I presume this is highly unlikely to involve anything even remotely legal?’

‘I very much doubt it.’ Blackheart flashed that smile that I had come to recognise all too well, and which usually spelt trouble, quite often for me, ‘How do you fancy a little adventure Raif?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘One always has a choice. The choice to let one’s life pass them by in a slow ebb tide of mediocrity and boredom, or………’

I sighed deeply I could already sense the excitement radiating from Blackheart, ‘Okay, okay I get it. Are we going with the usual?’

‘Well naturally.’

‘Okay, in that case I will finish my paper then be on my way.’ I said going back to my seat by the window recovering the Times.

‘Jolly decent of you old boy.’ Blackheart laughed.

Despite myself I allowed myself a little smile as I too felt the familiar tingle of excitement as behind me the thunk, thunk, thunk of knives hitting their target reverberated across the dining room once more.


Chapter 3 – The Pillars of Hercules

It was twenty four hours after receiving the letter, and I was sat at one end of the bar, furthest from the door in the Pillars of Hercules pub in Soho, nursing a pint of heavy, while keeping a careful eye on the little booth where Blackheart and a heavy set Chinese gent sat in quiet discussion. It had not gone unnoticed by me that sat at the other end of the bar was a Chinese looking ruffian similarly keeping an eye on proceedings. All things considered I was a less obvious lookout, for today I was less Raif and more my old Ralph, dressed as any normal working class man having a pint after work. My finery was gone and instead I was in dirty blue overalls, flat cap firmly clamped to my head, with a liberally applied amount of grease and crud under each finger nail, which were chewed to the quick.

I had cased the joint yesterday, travelling into London to get a view of the place that Ma Lè Kuàng had requested the meet with Blackheart take place. As with any such meetings, if possible, I would go to the place early looking for potential traps, routes of escape, or for any sense of general misgiving that something wasn’t right. In my time with Blackheart it was probably my one underlying skill that had become indispensable to him. I was, to put not too fine a point on it, his canary. Possibly from my time in the war I’d developed a finely honed sense of danger, able to sniff it out before it struck. Admittedly Blackheart would oft thank me for my warning then promptly ignore it. That wasn’t to say he was a reckless thrill seeker, he was most definitely a thrill seeker but seldom a reckless one, carefully assessing the risks before throwing himself into some death dealing situation with no thought of how he’d get out of it.

Happily apart from the general undercurrent of crime that pervaded Soho, the Pillars of Hercules was just a pub, a bit rough and ready, it had its share of unsavoury characters, but nothing to suggest this was to be the centre of a sting to land Blackheart in prison or worse. The Pillars had enough exits to slip out of, and at this time of day was busy enough to make it hard for any large body of men to encircle and pull down an individual, especially one as slippery as Blackheart.

The meeting between Blackheart and the Chinese gent passed quickly and amiably. They stood, shook hands and then the Chinese gent left, closely tailed by the Chinese ruffian. Now the inexperienced would give in to curiosity at this point and immediately make their way over to join the one they were watching over to get the low down on what had just passed, but I was not inexperienced so I made no move to join Blackheart. I remained in my spot, finished my first pint ordered a second and kept a watchful eye to see if anyone new should enter to take an undue interest in Blackheart and whomsoever he may converse with. I had just about got to the end of the second pint when an old spindly looking fellow got up from a table by the window looking out onto Greek Street and plonked himself down in the booth facing Blackheart. I instantly tensed but made no move, the man didn’t look like he could snap a twig let alone harm Blackheart, but looks can be deceiving and one doesn’t have to be strong to pull the trigger on a gun. I let my hand rest atop my overall’s pocket where I could feel the comforting hardness of the brass knuckles within. I moved around slightly on my stool to make it easier to get off and get to Blackheart should I need to, though the pub was beginning to fill up with lunchtime trade and my view was becoming obscured and my path to the booth blocked.

I paused for a second longer waiting for the crowd at the bar to shift slightly so I could see what was happening in the booth, without giving myself away too early. Another second passed and I was about to get off the stool and push my way through the throng when it split perfectly, like Moses parting the Red Sea, giving me a clear view of Blackheart and the spindly guy who was speaking ten to the dozen, his arms waving about with high animation. He didn’t look like a threat although he did seem agitated. Blackheart held out a hand and gestured for the chap to calm down. Nothing in Blackheart’s manner suggested he was in anyway concerned. Whatever Blackheart said to him seemed to have the desired affect and the man visibly calmed down. They stayed talking for sometime, with me keeping as careful an eye as I could on them despite the ebb and flow of the crowd that kept obscuring my view. Eventually spindly left. Blackheart stood and made his way to the gents, passing me as he went, giving me a slight nod indicating things were okay. Seeing that I allowed myself to relax, which was almost a mistake as I nearly failed to notice the two heavy set men who passed by me heading after Blackheart. Something about their demeanour suggested they were up to no good. I let them past then slipped off my stool and followed, my right hand slipping into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the brass knuckles.

I saw the door to the gents swing close, I stopped at it and listened only to hear Blackheart’s unmistakable tones, ‘Let me guess you’re hear to teach me the error of my ways?’

‘The gaffer don’t take no for an answer.’ replied a voice that sounded like it had been gargling gravel.

‘Shame. So you’re here to convince me to see things his way?’

‘Yous gotta learn yer place.’

‘Teach you a lesson see.’ a second voice laughed darkly.

‘Well then far be it from me to keep you fine gentlemen from your allotted task, you’d best start.’

Shaking my head at Blackheart’s flippancy I hauled the door open and rushed in. The toilet area was mid sized for an establishment of this size, but still no more than six foot square in the open area with the urinal trough up against the far wall with sinks to my left on the wall opposite the trough, and three stalls to my right. On hearing the door open the smaller of the two who stood closest to the door turned his head and growled a warning to leave, this was none of my business. That should have been it for him, by turning his head he’d presented his chin, the perfect target, which I took full opportunity of and struck him hard. He should have dropped, he should have gone down, he didn’t, he just swore and turned to face me, spat out some blood and smiled nastily saying ‘Now you’re for it runt.’

After that it was all a bit of a blur and pain, lots of pain. I briefly saw Blackheart and the other fellow set to in a flurry of punches and grappling, then I was lost in my own little world as the guy I punched rained down on me with gleeful savagery. Every blow was like being hit by a steam shovel, it was all I could do to block the punches and soak up the punishment as best I could, thoughts of hitting back gone as the monster railed upon me, driving me back into the first of the stalls.

In the confined space I managed to throw one hopeful punch, but that opened me up to a hook to my right temple that caused my vision to blur and my knees to buckle followed by an uppercut into my ribs, that folded me up, and a quick straight to my face, which dropped me back onto the toilet seat, dazed and confused. The beast had become naught more than a hulking shadow looming over me coming to finish me off, stepping into the stall, desperately I kicked out, and was satisfied hearing a grunt of pain, which was all too short lived as more punches beat about my head, then all went black and I felt no more.

‘Raif, Raif, Raif, Raif, RAIF!’ an insistent voice broke into my subconscious and weakly batting away whatever was tapping at my cheek I opened a bleary eye. ‘Ah thank god, you’re awake.’ said Blackheart who was crouched over me. ‘Let’s get you up on your feet.’ he said placing his arms under my armpits and stood hauling me back upright.

‘Errr, what?’ were all the words I could formulate as I stood upon shaky legs. I seemed to be in a toilet stall, with a large man lying prone half in and half outside it. As Blackheart helped me out into the wash room proper I could see another man sprawled unconscious upon the floor, an angry welt across the side of his head and much blood upon the floor.

My vision seemed blurry and something was running into my eyes I raised a hand to wipe whatever it was away and winced as pain shot through me as my hand touched my face. Before I could say anything Blackheart had moved me across to one of the wash basins and taking out a handkerchief ran it under the tap, passed it to me and said, ‘Best get a bit cleaned up quick old boy, we need to leave before someone else comes in or these two come round.’

I nodded weakly, which just sent more pain bouncing around my head, and was forced to rest my hands on the wash basin’s edge to steady myself as I felt my head swim and a moments nausea wash over me. It passed as fast as it came. I took a deep breath, and slowly raised my head to look at myself in the mirror to wipe off whatever Blackheart thought needed to go. Dear gods I was a mess. I looked like I’d gone ten rounds with a gorilla. My nose was broke, my lips bust, my right eye was a bruised and bloodshot mess, my left almost closed with swelling and the stuff running into my right eye was blood from a gash upon my head.

‘Don’t stand there admiring yourself Raif, c’mon, get clean as you can, at least get rid of the blood off your face, and here put your hat back on.’

Still dazed and feeling sick I dutifully obeyed, getting myself into some semblance of respectability and less like a mugging victim. The collar on my overalls turned up to hide the bloody collar of my shirt beneath.

‘Ready?’ asked Blackheart.

‘Yesh.’ I answered through swollen lips.

‘Good.’ Blackheart turned away and carefully opened the wash-room door and peered out, ‘Good no one’s coming, c’mon out, quick, quick.’

I followed him out into the corridor, which we passed down quickly, but instead of heading back into the main bar Blackheart turned and went through the door into the snug. Inside it was smokey and dingy, and no one paid us any attention as we passed though and exited the Pillars of Hercules by the door at its far end. The daylight beyond was harsh, causing my battered eyes to blink furiously, outside a mass of people flowed by. Disoriented and still woozy for a moment I felt panic rising in my gorge, when Blackheart’s calming voice said ‘Turn to your left and keep walking, I am going to be right in-front of you just keep following me and you’ll be fine.’

As we walked so slowly my senses came back to me, though what my senses were primarily telling me was that I hurt, a lot. With Blackheart walking just in-front of me he kept me from getting too jostled, clearing a path for us, leading us to the underground station at Tottenham Court Road. We boarded a tube and started wending our way back home. Only once we’d changed trains and finally got to Paddington and boarded the train to Maidenhead did Blackheart fully relax and claim ‘Okay, we’ve not been followed. Rest up Raif, I’ll fill you in with the details once we’re back at my aunt’s place. I didn’t need telling twice and let myself sink into the seat I was upon, let my chin fall to my chest, hat pulled low and closed my eyes and dozed fitfully trying to ignore the pain in my side and head, trusting Blackheart to wake me once we’d reached our destination.

I don’t remember much of the journey, save the throbbing in my head, though I did have a strange recollection of Blackheart conversing quietly with a female, but in my concussed state I failed to make out what was said, but I may have just been hallucinating, the entire journey being one of twisted visions and stabbing pain.

Finally we made it back to Blackheart’s aunt’s summer house, where he had the servants put me to bed, wherein the house maid forced some nasty tasting concoction down my throat and applied an ice pack to my brow, and that is the last thing I can recall of that day.


Chapter 4 – The Undertaking

When I awoke the light streaming through the gap in the curtains told me the sun was already high in the sky and that it must be late morning. I sat up and caught my breath as a sharp pain stabbed my chest. I looked down to find my chest was bound tightly in crisp white bandages. I took a moment then swung my legs out of bed, which caused yet another stab of pain through my chest. Great I had at least one, maybe more cracked ribs. A bowl of water rested upon the bedside stand with a fresh cloth, I sunk the cloth in the water and pressed it to my face, which ached and when I touched it felt like one big bruise. I moved my jaw about, at least that didn’t feel broken, though at least one eye didn’t feel like it was opened fully.

I put on my dressing gown, left the bedroom and made my way to the bathroom. As I made my way along the landing Molly the youngest of the maids stepped out of another room and almost dropped the bowl she was carrying, a look of horror staring back at me. However as all good service should Molly regained her composure within an instance and asked, ‘Do you require some help Mr Mortis?’

I tried to smile, realised it was more of a grimace and gave up and simply replied, ‘No thank you Molly, I’m fine.’

‘Really Sir, what has Lord Blackheart gotten you involved with now?’ she asked with genuine concern. In other households such familiarity by the staff would be considered the very height of impudence and the penalties severe, however I had not forgotten my own roots and so had always maintained a relaxed relationship with the staff. More surprising is Blackheart himself encouraged a free and open relationship with the maids and housekeeper, only reverting to typical master and servant behaviours should the place have visitors that would not understand such frippery, maintaining the illusion of proprietary.

In light of this my reply was frank, ‘Damned if I know Molly.’

‘Well you be careful he doesn’t get you killed.’

‘I will, I promise. Where is he by the way?’

‘Reading the papers. Do you need me to bring you anything?’

‘No, I shall wash and dress then go down. Thank you Molly.’

Molly gave me a warm smile and bustled off about her business leaving me to get on with making myself presentable. A little whiles later, washed and groomed I made my way down to the solar where Blackheart was, as Molly had observed, reading the papers. As I entered the room Blackheart looked up and for a moment I could have sworn a look of guilt flittered across his face, ‘I think Mrs Heller may have had the breakfast stuff cleared away,’ he said, ‘but I can get her to rustle you up an egg or something.’

‘Simply tea will suffice. Is any left in the pot?’ I asked.

‘There is, it’s a fresh brew. Sit yourself down I’ll get it.’ Blackheart put his paper down and began pouring me a cup of tea from the silver pot that sat steaming on the table, followed by milk and two sugars.

I lowered myself gingerly into the seat across from Blackheart trying not wince, rather unsuccessfully, and took the cup and saucer passed to me, ‘Thanks.’ I said and took a grateful sip, instantly feeling my spirits lift as the bitter tang of the tea overcame the momentary sting of the hot liquid touching my battered lips, sending a soothing warmth through my body.

‘Anything in the news?’ I asked not really interested but feeling the need to talk.

‘Nothing of note.’ Blackheart replied dismissively then asked. ‘How you feeling old boy?’

‘Like I’ve been hit by a train.’

‘I think a train may have been kinder. The Rankin brothers revel in dealing out pain.’

‘The Rankin who?’

‘Rankin brothers. They’re a couple of enforcers for hire. They are the proverbial sledgehammer to crack a nut, and you really don’t want to be the nut, as you unfortunately found out.’

I looked at Blackheart and couldn’t help but notice he barely had a scratch upon him. ‘How did you best them both? I hit the smaller one with my best shot catching him pretty much unawares, he barely flinched.’

‘I got lucky.’

‘Lucky?’

‘Yes, lucky. The first slipped and knocked himself out on the side of the sink as he fell. The second was so wrapped up in beating you to a pulp he didn’t see me coming. Like I say, lucky.’

My hand strayed to my face as my fingers played across my bruised and battered cheeks, jaw and eyes and wondered how my misfortune always seemed to manifest itself in good luck for Blackheart. Perhaps I should take this as a warning, but for better or worse for now I put my doubts away and asked, ‘Who were they enforcing for? From where I sat your meeting looked to go well.’

‘It did with Ma Lè Kuàng, we have come to an agreement.’

‘You have taken his job?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then he was happy with the meeting also?’

‘As far as I could tell.’

‘Then why set the Rankins upon you?’

‘He didn’t. Remember the scrawny chap that sat himself down in my booth?’

‘I do. He didn’t look a threat. Who was he?’

‘A paid snitch for one of Ma Lè Kuàng’s rivals. I can only assume he’d seen Kuàng leaving his usual haunt and decided to follow, picking up the Rankins as he went.’

‘Really, why? Seems a little presumptuous.’

‘He’s a low level snitch on the make, wanted to know what Ma Lè Kuàng’s business with me was. He told me any business of Kuàng’s was the business of his boss, who would very much like to know what Kuàng is up to so his boss can get in first and keep Kuàng in his place. Basically there’s a turf war going on between the Chinese crime lords.’

‘Which we have gotten in the middle of.’

‘Very astute Raif, you’re not just a bruised face after all.’ Blackheart laughed. ‘Obviously I didn’t tell him anything, not even my name, which is why I presume he got cross and sent the Brothers Grimm after me. Just before you turned up they were giving me one chance to spill the beans before they beat it out of me.’

‘That seems a bit over the top.’

‘I think he thought I would be an easy mark. Offered me the untold gratitude of his boss should I comply. He was quite put out when I told him I had no interest in any disputes between his boss and Kuàng and that I wasn’t a snitch unlike some I could mention. That’s when he got up and left. I should have realised a weasel like him wouldn’t have come alone. That was careless of me and a lesson I will learn from.’

‘A lesson you will learn from?’ I said sarcastically, given it was me that had received the teaching that had been handed out.

‘Anyway that’s not the important part,’ Blackheart continued, either he didn’t notice my pointed remark or simply chose not to, ‘the important part is the job.’

I pricked my ears up at that and despite the pain found myself sitting forward like an attentive pup, ‘Go on.’ I said.

‘When Britain intervened in the Boxer Rebellion along with other Western governments, our country acquired certain Chinese artefacts, jewels, pottery, writing and other things of worth and meaning to China. No doubt taken to protect them from those in China that would have either sold them on, melted them down or simply destroyed them. Some of the items taken were donated to the British Museum for safe keeping, recording and display for the general masses to enjoy.’

‘As is right and proper. Not that many of the masses ever go and look.’

‘Clearly not enough to warrant keeping them on display at least. It has come to Kuàng’s attention that part of the China display is being put into storage to make way for something else.’

‘And he knows this how?’

‘That is neither here nor there, but it is a fact.’

‘And that has to do with us because…………’

‘Because one of the pieces has a significance far beyond it’s actual monetary wealth, according to Kuàng at least. Apparently it conveys some form of honour and position to anyone that possesses it. Kuàng wants it to bolster his position amongst the London China underground, and we’re going to get it for him, Raif dear chap, we’re going to rob the British Museum.’

‘Say that again?’

‘We’re robbing the British Museum.’ Blackheart gave me his most infectious smile, only this time I wasn’t biting.

‘Are you insane?’

‘Not according to Professor Cradle.’

‘Cradle’s a quack.’

‘Maybe, but he passed me as perfectly sane.’

‘Only so he could send you back to the front.’

‘Maybe so, but I am certified sane.’

‘Okay, so you may not be technically insane, but if you are truly considering breaking into the British Museum then you are clearly mad.’

‘I prefer to think of it as an adventure.’

‘Adventure is rowing up the Amazon in a canoe, this is simply madness that will get you killed and the rest of us sent down.’

‘Nonsense. I can assure you if it kills me you won’t survive either.’ Blackheart replied with a dark glibness that sent a small shiver of fear down my spine.

‘Okay assuming I can’t talk you out of this,’

‘You can’t.’

‘what is in it for us?’

‘Notoriety.’

‘mmmmm can’t spend that.’

‘And three hundred and fifty pounds.’

‘Three, three hundred and fif…’

‘Fifty pounds.’ Blackheart took a sip of his tea and sat back with a self satisfied look upon his face.

I took a sip myself and placed my cup and saucer down upon the table with shaky hand, ‘And he has that much money?’

‘He’d better, the risks of taking on this job need to be well compensated for. Plus my reputation doesn’t come cheap.’

‘Cheap, that’s practically extortion.’

‘You’d rather I’d ask for less.’

‘I’d rather you had turned it down entirely. It is one thing to steal jewels from some bored heiress it’s another to take something from the country’s care.’

‘But on the other hand whereas an heiress will report the theft the country won’t dare report the loss of this item, the shame would be too much to bare.’

‘They’ll never let this go Devlin.’

‘But that’s what makes it so delicious. This country has asked enough of us in the past, its time it gave back.’ Blackheart replied with an earnest conviction that suggested something else was at play here, but I was still too in shock at the offered prize to pick up on the veiled warning.

‘So what’s the plan?’ I asked.

‘Damned if I know,’ Blackheart laughed, ‘I was going to leave that up to you.’

Oh great, I thought, Blackheart was planning on winging it again unless I could come up with a sensible means to achieve the robbery. A sense of foreboding settled upon me as I retreated into another cup of tea as the magnitude of the undertaking we were about to embark on sank in.


Chapter 5 – Lady Margaret De Lacy

I had been racking my brains for a week on how we were to steal an item from the British Museum when a thought occurred to me, that night while taking dinner with Blackheart and his aunt, who’d returned to her residence after visiting a friend in the West Country. I asked ‘Do you know what the Coils of the Anaconda actually looks like?’

Blackheart paused in the cutting of his steak and looked up at me as if to say something profound, hesitated, frowned, put down his knife and fork, scratched his finely trimmed moustache before finally admitting ‘No, no I don’t.’

‘What’s that dear?’ Blackheart’s aunt asked.

‘Oh it is an item I have been charged with acquiring for a business associate,’ Blackheart replied without batting an eye. His ability to lie while also telling the truth at the same time and so effortlessly remained a thing of awe to me, and sadly something I had never been able to perfect.

Blackheart’s aunt was nothing if not perceptive and I never shook the feeling that she knew her favourite nephew’s business was anything but legal, but she never probed him about the details, maybe because it gave her plausible deniability, though in this case she showed more than her usual interest, ‘So what is this Coils of the Anaconda your associate wants?’

‘A family heirloom I believe that an ancestor managed to lose.’

Blackheart’s aunt nodded sagely, took a dainty sip of wine and looked to drop the conversation, just long enough to let Blackheart put a piece of steak in his mouth before asking innocently, ‘And you trust this gentleman is the rightful heir to the piece? Has he provided proof of his providence for the claim?’. As Blackheart almost choked his aunt gave me a demure smile and a cheeky wink, and for a second the family resemblance to her nephew was unmistakable.

Lady Margaret De Lacy, her married name, like her nephew before him was the family’s black sheep. In her youth she had eschewed the typical behaviours of a young Victorian lady, leaving that to her sister, instead pursuing a life of adventure and scandal. Despite her family’s protestations, threats of disownment and to be cut off from all the advantages polite society had to offer she had instead thrived, carving out a sometimes debauched, always exciting and successful life under her own terms. Most of this I learned from her, as she liked nothing better than to regale visitors of her liaisons that erred from the side of respectability. Only once her husband had died had she finally slowed down.

By her own account her husband, Claude De Lacy, a man who could trace his roots back to the Norman De Lacys that had come across with Duke William to Conquer these fair Isles in 1066, was the first man of note that had seen something in her wild side that he adored, and rather than trying to break and domesticate her, chased her for what she was and fell for her entirely. The pair were married on the back of a whirlwind romance after which they embarked upon adventures with a mix of English rebelliousness and French joie de vivre, carving a trail of notoriety across Europe and the east during the last decade of the 19th century until his untimely death in 1909. I would very much have liked to have met this man, for if half the stories about him were true conversations with him would have been a truly electrifying experience. As it was Lady Margaret was no bore at the dinner table.

Lady Margaret, just turned sixty, was a handsome woman, who carried herself with grace marked with a style that was always just the wrong side of acceptable. By her own admission she’d never been a beauty, not helped she said by breaking her nose at the ripe old age of nine when she fell from a tree. She’d always been a tomboy and built for the outdoors or, as she would put it, ‘I have legs like a cart horse, shoulders of a dairy maid and the disposition of a mountain goat’. It is no wonder then that I first met her in April 1917 driving an ambulance during the battle of Arras.

For once both Blackheart and I were wounded, and it was while waiting with a mix of other wounded that the ambulance driven by Lady Margaret pulled up and a surprised and momentary warm family reunion took place between Blackheart and Margaret. After their quick catch-up as those unable to walk were loaded into her ambulance and the other four that were in the accompanying convoy, Blackheart introduced me to his formidable aunt. It was here where I learned just what a sharp and astute woman she was. Immediately after the pleasantries, and a quick assessment by her declaring us both fit enough to walk to the field hospital, she remarked ‘So what are you two doing here?’.

‘The war Margaret,’ Blackheart replied lightly, ‘Just doing our bit.’

‘That’s as maybe, but the unit badges on your uniform suggest you belong to units not part of this sector, nor are they any part of this battle.’ she observed shrewdly.

‘So we got mixed up with some other fellows, and you know how it is, over the top is over the top, at that point no one cares who you are supposed to be serving with.’

‘Devlin dear, you may be able to use that charming smile of yours to flummox others, but I know you too well. That unit,’ she said pointing at his shoulder flash, ‘isn’t simply further up the line, it’s not even operating in this country.’

‘Sssssh Aunty, you’ll blow our cover,’ Blackheart put an arm around Margaret’s shoulders, ‘Just point us in the direction of the field hospital and we’ll make our own way there, and don’t mention having seen us.’

Margaret pushed his arm from her and with a steely gaze asked ‘You’re not deserters are you?’.

‘Really, would deserters be at the front and wounded?’

‘Well……..’ she sounded unconvinced.

‘Aunty we’re irregulars. Raif and I are charged with carrying out activities for the top brass that the normal troops can’t. But it’s important that no one gets wind of us being here.’ Blackheart answered seriously, ‘The Hun have spies everywhere and we don’t need them knowing about our whereabouts. As far as they are concerned we’re still in the middle east, and that’s the way we need it to stay.’

Margaret regarded Blackheart coolly then turned to me, ‘Is this true Raif?’ she asked.

I don’t know why she looked to me for confirmation but as I stood there I felt myself withering beneath her gaze, so I answered honestly, ‘Yes Ma’am, it’s true.’, for it was, though how we’d come to be in this position was a tale for another time.

She held my gaze for a while longer, then apparently satisfied that we had indeed told her the truth she told us to wait where we were and she’d be back shortly. We sat back against the wall where we’d been resting before the ambulances turned up. A couple of minutes later Margaret returned and passed us both shoulder flashes of units operating on this stretch of the front. ‘First chance you get replace those on your shoulders with these.’ she said. ‘Should stop anyone asking awkward questions.’

‘Where did you get these?’I asked innocently.

‘Let’s just say the poor boys who wore these don’t need them any more.’ she answered gravely, her meaning was not lost upon me.

‘Thank you Ma’am.’ I replied solemnly.

‘Right, well I can’t be stood here chatting with you two, take care Devlin dear, try not to get killed. A pleasure to meet you Raif, try not to let my Nephew get you into too much trouble, I know what he’s like.’ she laughed with just a hint of sadness.

‘Thank you for the warning.’ I grinned cheekily.

‘Now I really must get our wounded back to the hospital. Farewell.’ she said giving Blackheart a final hug. A toot from one of the other ambulances took her attention forcing her to let go of Blackheart and with a quick nod to me got back in her ambulance and trundled away down the shell-pocked road.

‘Why did you tell her the truth?’ I asked, ‘You were always quite clear we couldn’t trust anyone with what we’re about.’

‘No choice old boy.’ said Blackheart, ‘Aunty Margaret could always see though my lies, and if she had thought we were deserters she would have taken a gun off the nearest Tommy and shot us herself. It was safer all round to tell her the truth. Besides I’d trust her with my life.’

Blackheart and I hitched our packs, I grabbed my rifle and we began walking in the direction of Margaret’s ambulance, as it steadily disappeared from sight, I didn’t know then that I would meet Lady De Lacy again, nor that I would end up spending time living in her home. I certainly didn’t know I would come to learn that lying to her was a step fraught with all manner of danger and pain. Clearly as I reminisced a smile must have crept across my face as Lady De Lacy turned her attention away from her nephew who was still choking on his steak and referred herself to me, ‘And you Raif, are you going along with whatever hare-brained adventure he has got himself wrapped up in this time?’

All too aware of the bruises around my eyes and face, even though my bust lip had gone down and the general swelling had subsided, I answered honestly, ‘Sadly I seem to have fallen foul of this scheme already.’

‘You want to watch yourself Raif, learn to say no to him sometimes, it’s for your own good, and his.’

‘Oh Aunty you over react.’ Blackheart protested having got his choking under control.

‘Do I now. Well if what Molly told me is anything to go by the state of poor Raif last week was cause enough for me to be concerned.’

‘It will be fine, and you know Molly she is want to over react.’

‘Devlin I can assure you Molly has the calmest head on her I have known on anyone, and if she tells me Raif ‘was proper messed up’ to use her vernacular then I quite believe her.’

And that stifled any further conversation about the job as Lady Margaret turned her talk to gossip that was taking up the time of the well to do in Maidenhead. Dinner finally over Lady Margaret said ‘Thank you for your company dears, now if you’ll excuse me I will leave you boys to your, um, work.’. The sarcasm dripped from her words like syrup, ‘Good evening.’ we both made to stand as she got up but she waved us down, standing on ceremony being a pet hate of hers.

Once she’d left the room I returned to my original question and asked ‘So do you?’

‘Do I what?’

‘Know what the Coils of the Anaconda looks like.’

‘Actually I haven’t a clue. I presumed it was coily and vaguely snake like.’

‘Is it gold, silver, something else?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then I think our next move should be to take a trip to the Museum before the exhibition is taken down and get a good look at the piece. It also won’t harm to case the Museum itself.’

Blackheart sighed, ‘A trip round a museum, that sounds frightfully dull.’

‘Dull but necessary.’ I admonished.

‘Okay, okay. We’ll go on Saturday.’

‘Why Saturday?’

‘More people to mingle with. Less chance to be noticed.’

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘Saturday it is.’

‘Brandy?’ asked Blackheart.

‘Why not.’

‘Good man.’ said Blackheart and rang the bell for the maid, and no more was spoken about the undertaking that evening.


Chapter 6 – The Coils of the Anaconda

It was Saturday, and I left my London hotel room at Browns on Albemarle Street, just a short walk from Piccadilly Circus, to join Blackheart down in the foyer at the time he’d indicated. As I came down the grand staircase I could already see Blackheart waiting, as ever turned out immaculately. Immediately I felt in his shade, not that I wasn’t dressed as a dapper gentleman should be, in a light brown tweed double breasted suit, crisp white shirt married with a royal blue tie and matching my socks, highly polished brown Oxfords on my feet and a straw boater worn at a rakish angle, I looked good. However Blackheart in a similar suit, but in blue with a sunburst yellow tie, socks and matching pocket square just wore it better. Maybe his taller more angular frame compared to my shorter, stockier build gave him the edge, either way we were both cutting a dash.

As I reached bottom of the stairs I noticed that Blackheart had two young ladies with him, one a tall, slim blonde the other a shorter, more curvaceous brunette, both pretty, both dressed fashionably. The blonde was striking in a close fitted felt hat, short sport jacket over a slender white dress with navy banding about the hem that came to just below her knee, finished with a navy and white polka dot scarf. The brunette carried herself in an elegant light green dress with a green lace shoulder and collar, over which she wore a light cotton sports coat, with a long black glass bead necklace, and an equally close fitting hat the same colour as her jacket but adorned with a green silk rose upon its right side.

‘Ah Raif,’ began Blackheart, ‘please let me introduce you to Miss Ivy Pettigrew and Miss Bonny Harrington.’

‘Ladies.’ I doffed my hat.

‘The ladies will be accompanying us today.’

‘That is if it’s not an imposition.’ the blonde, Ivy, said with a coquettish smile that betrayed the fact she knew that this was in no way an imposition, but I played along and replied ‘How could such delightful company ever be an imposition.’ I returned the smile which garnered another smile and a flutter of eyes. I did wonder how Blackheart knew these two and how he’d persuaded them a trip to a stuffy museum would be any way fun, but I wasn’t about to complain.

‘Shall we?’ asked Blackheart offering his arm to Bonny, who took it gladly, allowed him to lead her out of the hotel. Following his lead I offered mine to Ivy, who took it without hesitation, and we followed Blackheart and Bonny out into the heart of London.

We took a pleasant stroll through Piccadilly Circus, a stroll through parts of Soho onto Convent Garden, passed by the Prince’sTheatre and on until we reached the grandeur that was the British Museum. The walk took a little over half an hour during which time the delightful Ivy barely let go of my arm, chatting excitedly about the museum and its many exhibitions within.

The British Museum is without doubt one of the most outstanding buildings in London, even to my untrained eye. Built in a Greek revival style, or so Ivy informed me, it stood grand and imposing with its many Greek temple inspired columns, extensive wings and its huge stone steps. It was a magnificent sight. Ivy made a point of describing the Triangular Pediment that crowned the main entrance, upon which was sculptured a relief describing the progress of civilisation, from Man’s creation through all the learning steps of our growth; agriculture, religion, art and the sciences to exit a fully educated creature. Impressive as it no doubt was I was more impressed with Ivy’s knowledge and enthusiasm.

‘How do you know so much about this place?’ I asked somewhat in awe.

‘Daddy was a historian, I remember him bringing me here just before the war. I don’t remember much more about him sadly, he was killed on the Somme.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. He died doing his duty. My favourite memory is here with him on one knee, arm around my shoulders pointing excitedly at the Pediment explaining it to me. His enthusiasm was infectious.’ she sighed wistfully, ‘After that I became obsessed with history and this place. You know I’ve become a bit of an amateur history buff in my own right.’

Looking at her bright eyed excitement I couldn’t help but say, ‘I think your father would be very proud if he could see you now.’ which drew a blush and a self conscious giggle.

‘My mother would argue otherwise,’ she laughed ruefully. ‘History apparently is not a suitable pursuit for a young lady. I should be putting my efforts into finding a husband of suitable means and be having children. She claims if I wait much longer I will be condemned to the life of an old maid. Worse yet I will have denied her the gift of Grandchildren.’

‘No pressure then.’ I laughed. ‘But old, hardly, what are you, twenty if you are a day?’

‘I turned twenty a month ago.’

‘See, you’re barely a fledgling, I don’t think you or your mother need to worry just yet about you being left on the shelf. Why, I expect you have a long line of suitors all vying for your attention.’

‘You tease.’ she jabbed me playfully in the ribs and we both laughed. ‘But what of you Raif, have you no young lady to call your own?’

The question was put playfully though I detected an undercurrent of maybe more than simply passing fancy, ‘Miss Ivy, what kind of cad would you have me, to be so openly escorting you if I had a betrothed some place else?’

Ivy giggled, seemingly satisfied I wasn’t some bounder on the make and changed the conversation, ‘Come on we’re being left behind.’ and grabbing my hand she pulled me after her.

Inside we ambled around the many halls within the museum, the Egyptian exhibit garnering much interest by Ivy and Bonny. There had been an explosion of interest in all things Egyptian ever since the discovery of the Tutankhamun tomb the year before by Edward Carter. Nothing had escaped the fad, parties, plays, songs, all had succumbed to the lure of Egypt. Even so, as interesting as the Egyptian artefacts were, it was the layout and security measures of the museum that had piqued Blackheart and mine’s attention.

We carefully took note of the number of guards that patrolled the halls. I picked up a visitor’s printed floor map of the exhibits, a ready made layout of the premises, Blackheart took time considering the windows, and all possible points of ingress into the museum, and of course places to hide should it all go wrong. As we mentally took notes we at all times maintained light and airy conversation with the girls. If anyone were to pay us any attention they would have mistaken us for tourists. Finally, after pausing for a spot of tea, we finally made it to the China and South Asia gallery where the item Blackheart was engaged to obtain was on display.

It took us a while to locate it but there, finally, in a glass cabinet we saw it. The Coils of the Anaconda. It was exquisite, crafted from interwoven blackened steel and silver strands that had been interlaced then corkscrewed to form coils that would slide over a man’s forearm to be worn as a bracer. The piece ended in a flat anaconda’s head, turned 90 degrees from the final coil so the head would sit dead centre atop the arm of the wearer and stare down along the wearers hand. Also interwoven along its length was a gold core, creating a stripe that began at the tip of it’s tail and followed the coils till it reached the head. Finally, the eye sockets had inserts of ruby, or something similar, which seemed to breathe life into the piece. It was as though it was regarding you as just so much prey.

‘You know Raif I think this would be wasted upon Ma Lè Kuàng.’ said Blackheart as he admired the piece.

‘You could always refuse the job.’ I replied, something about it was making me feel uneasy, ‘Tell him its too well guarded and beyond stealing.’

‘Sorry Raif, I gave him my word.’

‘But that’s before you saw it.’

‘True, I think it is far too nice for a man like Ma Lè Kuàng to possess, but I took the job and its not my place to decide the worth of an items owner. Besides what would it do to my reputation to turn down a job like this simply to protect it from getting into Kuàng’s hands. No my word is my bond, I will retrieve this for Kuàng.’

‘Mmmm okay.’ I said.

‘Mind you that doesn’t mean I won’t take it back off him at a later date.’ Blackheart smiled deviously causing my unease to sharpen.

‘Tell me you’re not about to double cross the Chinese underworld?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Certainly not.’ Blackheart answered lightly.

‘Thank God for that, the last thing we need is a whole crime organisation hunting us down.’

‘No, I will acquire this piece and hand it over to Ma Lè Kuàng as agreed.’

‘Good.’

‘But I will make sure he doesn’t get to keep it.’

‘Oh good God.’

‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, it will simply find it’s way into someone else’s hands.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’ Blackheart grinned.

‘We’re doomed.’

‘Hardly.’

‘The last time you got such a notion into your head you almost died. I almost ended up in prison, and we can never visit Vienna again, ever!’

‘Tish, it wasn’t that bad,’

‘Wasn’t that bad? You fought and lost a duel damn it. How is your leg now by the way?’

‘It only hurts when it rains.’

‘So most of the year then.’ I replied sarcastically, ‘Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping when you don’t think anyone is watching.’

‘Pain is good Raif, it shows you’re alive.’

‘No, it shows something got too close.’

‘Potato, potahto.’ Blackheart dismissed my concerns lightly, ‘We’ve been stood here too long Raif, we’d best move on, don’t want to draw any unwanted attention now do we.’ and with that he strolled off to rejoin Bonny and Ivy who’d left us behind a little. I took one final look at the Anaconda, which I could have sworn had a look about it that spelt danger for anyone that interfered with it. Little did I know then just how right I was.


Chapter 7 – Contemplation.

It was the end of the day and Blackheart and I sat in the Hotel’s lounge enjoying a fine twelve year old malt. We had entertained the girls for the rest of the day, finishing with a fine meal that evening at the Savoy, where Blackheart adopted the role of witty raconteur. Loquacious being more than just a name he could talk for hours, always entertaining, on a wide and diverse range of subjects. Being of a more taciturn nature I let him have the floor. Tonight’s topic of conversation had centred on his latest passion, flying, which incidentally is how he knew Bonny.

It turned out Bonny was one of those new breed of independent ladies that believed it was every gel’s right to engage in the same crazy, suicidal pastime of soaring through the air in a wire and wood death trap as the men. Blackheart and Bonny were both members of the same flying club, and Bonny showed no less enthusiasm or wit on the subject as Blackheart. Ivy, I learned, was Bonny’s long suffering friend, and, like me with Blackheart, tended to get dragged into whatever crazy adventure Miss Bonny fell into. Then help extricate her when it all went horribly wrong. I think we both came to the unsettling conclusion that we were not so much friends to our respective companions but more their safety net.

After the evening meal and securing them a taxi to take them home, Blackheart and I had returned to the hotel to relax a whiles before meeting for a night cap in the lounge and to discuss what we had found earlier.

‘What do think of the security?’ asked Blackheart.

‘The place has more ways in than is healthy, and that’s not even taking into account getting in via one of the upper storey windows.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘They don’t seem to have much by the way of guards when the place is open, I doubt they will have more than a skeleton staff on night watch.’

‘The cabinet the item is held in I could have had that opened and the thing out today with a reasonable distraction and no one would have been the wiser.’ Blackheart stated casually.

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes, the lock on the cabinet I could pick in seconds. I noticed none of the locks on any of the displays were of any complexity. I could have walked out with all manner of things, all I would have needed was something with deep pockets and I’d have been home clear. The myopic guards walking the floors looked bored. They’ve become so accustomed to nothing happening that when something does I doubt they’d be able to react quickly enough to prevent anything.’

‘Do you want to go back in a day or two and just take the thing from the stand then?’ I asked.

‘As much as I would love to Raif, that would be a tad on the nose and our patron was clear he wanted the theft to be discrete. I presume he wants to have it to perform some event with before anyone is even looking for it, which by the time they are he’ll have squirrelled it away some place safe.’

‘You sound sure of that.’

‘It’s what I would do if I were he.’ Blackheart conceded.

‘Thing is, we know where it is now. When that display is taken away to allow the Museum to change that floor we won’t know where the item will be moved to. The item will be labelled, documented on some inventory somewhere and be stuffed away in some drawer. The museum holds thousands of pieces in its back rooms, once it is put away it could take us days to find it, and that’s if we had a clear, uninterrupted run at the place, which we don’t.’

‘Its definitely a bit of a quandary,’ Blackheart replied thoughtfully, ‘and not one we’re likely to solve tonight.’ Blackheart finished his whiskey with a sense of finality, ‘Good night Raif, that’s me done, see you in the morning.’

I tipped my glass towards him and settled back in my chair as he left, I was not quite ready for bed yet myself, thoughts of Ivy Pettigrew were swirling about my mind that I was finding hard to shake. A couple more tots later and I too was ready to turn in for the night.

Next morning Blackheart was in a contemplative mood, so I ate in silence, I knew better than to interrupt his reverie. Eventually, after he’d polished off the last of the toast Blackheart looked up and said ‘We can’t wait till the Coils are moved into archive.’

‘I would agree.’

‘But if it’s removed from display, that will be noticed.’

‘Most definitely.’

‘And that means all the heat will be on it.’

‘True.’

‘And that’s a problem.’

‘I’m glad you agree,’ I said, ‘though I am somewhat surprised to hear you say so, you usually revel in a bit of heat.’

‘For sure a bit of heat adds a soupçon of excitement to the proceedings, and if I was acquiring such a hot item for myself it wouldn’t be an issue. I could just sit on it until the police had lost interest before moving it along. But we don’t have the luxury of time with this one.’

‘Does that matter? You get it, you hand it over, and we’re all done and dusted and long gone.’

‘Except…….’ Blackheart said enigmatically.

‘Except what?’

‘I can’t help shaking the thought that Ma Lè Kuàng will want to flaunt the item.’

‘What if he does, it’s him that’ll be arrested.’

‘Do not doubt for one second that he won’t squeal to save his own skin and sell us out to the law.’

‘Remind me, why have you taken this job?’

‘Excitement, infamy, not to mention a very large payday.’

‘Is it worth it?’

‘Yes, if we don’t get caught.’ Blackheart smiled, a hint of sarcasm colouring his words.

‘So if you think Ma Lè Kuàng will get caught with it and sell us out, how do we do the job and avoid that?’

‘When wolves hunt what do they do?’ Blackheart asked cryptically.

‘They separate the weak from the herd, then wear it out and hunt it down.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m not sure I see the relevance.’

‘Think about it, once the wolves choose their prey what do they do with the rest of the herd?’

‘Ignore it obviously.’

‘Exactly.’

‘No, still not getting it.’ I replied patiently, I knew that it was hard to shake Blackheart from a metaphor once lodged in his head, I would just have to work it out.

‘We’re going to sacrifice something weak.’

‘You’re not planning on releasing wolves into the museum are you?’ I said aghast.

‘What, no. Good god man, what do you take me for?’

‘A slightly crazy gentleman with a barely concealed desire to be incarcerated.’

‘mmmmmmmm.’ Blackheart tilted his head thoughtfully, ‘but no.’

‘Then what?’

‘We’re going to steal something else, something that will capture the imagination of the public and the authorities alike.’ Blackheart lounged back in his chair, hand upon his head and a self satisfied look upon his face.

‘What?’

‘We’re going to give the wolves something to chase.’

Oh hell, we were back with the metaphor, it was time to nip that in the bud before it got out of hand, ‘How does stealing something else help?’ I asked seriously.

‘Because that will be where the authority’s focus lays. It will be a piece they must find and return. The coils will become simply a collateral piece, neither here nor there.’

‘But if we take something that will have the constabulary buzzing like an angry hive, won’t that put us at more risk and likely to capture? How is that good?’

‘Its good because we can hand over the coils to Ma Lè Kuàng and he’ll be able to stroll through Leicester Square wearing it brazenly and no one will bat an eyelid. No one will recognise it, the papers won’t print pictures of it, it will simply be lost in the noise of the other item. I will take something that will truly capture the public’s imagination, something that will be on the front pages, that will be discussed in gentleman’s clubs, in working men’s clubs, pubs and dives alike. The establishment will fret, huff and puff to get it back, which, of course, they will.’

‘Sorry you’ve lost me.’ I said honestly confused.

‘Raif we will hold the piece just long enough for it to become lodged at the forefront of the national psyche, then as everyone fixates upon it as a wolf pack fixates on the weak before hiving it off from the herd, we’ll make sure they catch it. The outpouring of relief and amazement will be as damn bursting, and beneath that torrent of emotion the Coils will simply be forgotten.’

I had to admit the rationale held some merit. Though I feared the execution of such a plan would have to be flawless or we’d surely be caught. And of course there was another issue that was bothering me, ‘So what is it you intend steal as the deception?’

‘The Renaissance treasures collected by Baron Rothschild.’

‘Seriously? They’re worth a fortune, the cops will be all over that like a rash.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You’re mad.’ I said aghast.

‘So we’re agreed?’

‘Agreed, no not even close.’

‘Trust me Raif this will work.’

‘Where have I heard that before?’

‘Come on Raif, you know it makes sense.’

‘Nothing about this makes sense.’ I said despondently, ‘We have no idea how to pull this off, we’re not even close.’

‘So we’d best get to work then,’ Blackheart smiled, ‘these pieces won’t remove themselves, plus we don’t have much time, we have to do this before the Coils are archived.’

‘Aren’t the Rothschild pieces and the Coils not in totally different parts of the museum.’ I asked, ‘Won’t it seem strange that items so separated are stolen?’

‘No problem old bean, I’ll simply take bits and pieces as I work my way between the two. It will all seem entirely random, apart from the Rothschild items.’

‘How long do we have before the coils are moved. Just over a month.’

‘That’s not long to plan this.’

‘I know, exciting isn’t it.’ Blackheart grinned, awash with enthusiasm.

Here we go again, I though ruefully, and began to run ideas through my mind of just how we might pull this off and, of course, all the things that could possibly go wrong. The odds did not seem in our favour.


Chapter 8 – Undercover.

Two weeks passed after which I began an honest job. I say honest, but it had criminal undertones. I had joined the British Museum cleaning staff. It was a fantastic way to get the lay of the whole place without arousing any suspicions. Blackheart, naturally, had not undertaken this part of the heist. As brave, resourceful, and athletic as he was, what he could not do was hide his upbringing. Those clipped public school tones followed him everywhere, and you’d never find a cleaner who spoke like him. I on the other hand could slip back to my working class roots in the blink of an eye, not only that but I had an ear for accents and could mimic like the best vaudeville impressionists, which is why my new employer believed I was a Geordie from the banks of the Tyne called Dave.

We had left it two weeks before I took up the job to give me time to grow out my moustache and beard, my face now swathed in thick black bristles. From an early age I had always been able to grow a beard in no time, much to my razor’s pain, blunting blades with an annoying regularity. My new persona complete I turned up to work to meet my new boss Mr Carpenter, where I was handed a map of the premises, a mop, bucket, other cleaning items and sent on my way to make the Museum a place a regimental Sargent Major would be proud to inspect. If four years in the British army had taught me anything it was how to mop and polish.

I set to my task with restrained vigour, something else the army had taught me, it didn’t pay to be too enthusiastic, and over the next couple of weeks I began to form a solid picture of the museum, places to enter, places to hide, of which there were many, got a feel for how well the place was guarded, not very, how many staff worked on the floors, how many beavered away in the science and archivists rooms hidden away from the public’s gaze. Ivy would have loved this, and dare I say it added a little bit of spit and polish sparkle to the exhibits I cleaned.

Each night after my shift I returned to the bedsit, where I had rented a small room, all part of the deception and all contact with Blackheart dropped. It was during my third week in the job that I managed to glean some information that was to change everything. I learned when the Chinese exhibit was to be removed, better still I learned exactly where it was going to be moved to when taken off display and stored. Suddenly we had a chance to steal the piece and for its disappearance to go unnoticed for quite some time. With some concrete information to impart it was time to signal Blackheart and set up a meet. It was only Wednesday, which required me to wait till Friday before I could signal Blackheart so I had my tea, went out for a quiet pint, then back to the bedsit and bed ready for the next day’s work.

Thursday dawned bright and clear and with a spring in my step I went to work. The morning passed without incident, I had lunch eating my packed sandwiches sat on a wall around the back of the museum with some of the other cleaning staff, as we took the chance to enjoy the summer sun. After lunch I returned to my duties and it was as I was about to enter the archivists area that I bumped into a thick set man who had just stepped into my way from out of the shadows. He clearly hadn’t seen me as he’d had his back to me talking to one of the junior archivists, and on stepping out had clattered into me spilling my bucket of water. I cursed as the thick set man spun around angrily as the water slopped down the back of his legs, and I found myself face to face with the same Chinese ruffian that had been at the Pillars of Hercules watching Blackheart and Ma Lè Kuàng’s meeting. He swore in his native language, paused briefly as we looked at each other, then he pushed by me. I couldn’t tell if he’d recognised me or not, I’d assumed not, I was far less distinctive than he, but to maintain my own cover I turned back to the junior archivist who had stayed hovering about the entrance to the science rooms looking furtive, and in my best Geordie accent said ‘What’s wrong wi him leik?’

‘I, I don’t know what you mean?’ the young lad stuttered, he was twenty one if a day and with a typically studious aesthetic, in other words pallid, scrawny and clearly not a fan of outdoor exercise.

I played up my role in response, ‘Spilled me bucket an divvnae even apologise, bloody chink. He a mate of yours?’

‘No, never seen him before in me life, I swear.’ the archivist replied, his eyes darting guiltily.

He was clearly lying, and I was pretty certain I’d found Ma Lè Kuàng’s man inside the Museum, so I let it pass, no point spooking the chap and in a conciliatory fashion announced, ‘Ah well ne harm dyun. Reet well ah canna stand gossiping leik a bloody washer woman, best get on wi me job.’ and left the lad standing looking worried as I opened the door and walked through into the archivists area and began to mop. For the rest of my time in the room I noticed the young lad kept looking nervously at me as I progressed through the room. I made a mental note to get to know this lad better, but for now got on with my cleaning and pointedly ignored him.

Shift over I again went back to my digs, had tea, went out for a quiet pint or two, just a typical evening for a typical working man should anyone be watching. As I returned to my digs after I left the pub as I walked past one of the street bins, just outside the Goodge Street tube station, had some one been watching me very closely they would have notice me chalk a horizontal V upon its side. I didn’t pause to review my artistry but walked on, head up, chalk slipped back into my pocket as though nothing had taken place at all.

Friday passed uneventfully, again I went back to the bedsit, only once inside I quickly washed, changed, lacquered down my hair, trimmed my beard and moustache so not quite so unruly and slipped out of the apartment looking less like Dave, and a bit more like Ralph, but definitely not as fine as if I was Raif and headed for the tube, jumping on at Goodge Street and jumping off at Camden, there I made my way to a small pub at the opposite end of the high street. Inside it was warm, smokey, but not yet full. I ordered a pint and took a seat at a table towards the rear of the place and waited. I was down three quarters of a pint and wondering if Blackheart had received my signal on the side of the bin and was getting ready to finish my drink and move on when a familiar voice said ‘Going somewhere old boy?’

I looked up to find a dapper looking Blackheart standing at my table holding two pints.

‘I thought you may have required a second,’ he said and placed the beer down in front of me, sitting himself down on the free stool at my table.

‘Cheers.’ I replied, ‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.’

‘Couldn’t help thinking I was being followed so had to take a few precautions on my way here.’

‘Really? Did you lose them?’

‘I think so.’ Blackheart smiled, but I noticed he cast a wary glance about the pub first to make sure no one was taking undue interest in us, ‘So, how’s life as a cleaner?’

‘Surprisingly stress free. Not without its challenges, but mopping can be amazingly calming.’

‘I’ll tell Molly that, let’s see how relaxing she finds it the next time she is mopping up after you.’

‘Don’t you bloody dare, she’ll kill me.’ to which Blackheart laughed mischievously, ‘Anyway what have you been up to while I’ve been working?’

‘Oh you know, this and that.’ he smiled nonchalantly.

‘No, I don’t know.’

‘Well I had a lovely lunch with Bonny after a particularly fine days flying. I took Aunty Margaret for a spot of afternoon tea last Friday, met up with some of the chaps at the club, yes all been very much of a muchness.’

‘So nothing useful then.’ I snapped.

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly. I’ve been planning alibis, making friendly passing contact with some known fences and so on. Oh and I bumped into Miss Pettigrew who asked after you.’

‘Really, after me, what did she say?’

Blackheart smiled devilishly, ‘Now don’t you go getting soppy on me. I need your head in the game not going soft on some young filly.’ he teased.

I stammered my innocence but I could feel my cheeks blushing and inwardly cursed Blackheart and the easy way he wheeled me in.

‘But you didn’t signal a meet to talk about Ivy, at least I hope you didn’t.’

‘No, I did not, things have changed.’

‘Really, do tell.’ and instantly Blackheart’s demeanour changed from relaxed indifference to business like attentiveness. Making sure we were not being overheard I told him everything I had learned to date, when the exhibit was to be moved, where the Coils of the Anaconda was to be moved and stored, the run in with Ma Lè Kuàng’s man. After I finished Blackheart took a swig of his pint, finishing it off, told me to wait and he went and got two more pints, returning with a thoughtful look upon his face.

‘Have you seen Ma Lè Kuàng’s man since?’

‘No, why?’

‘Just wondering what he’s up to?’

‘Keeping tabs on the item maybe?’

‘Then why pay us to take it. If his man’s that well in with one of the staff, why not just get them to take it for him.’

‘Maybe they don’t trust the lad to come through. He was very nervy. I think if he was to steal it, he’d have given himself away before the next day was out.’

‘Possibly, but something doesn’t smell quite right.’ Blackheart’s lips pursed tightly, ‘Did Kuàng’s man recognise you?’

‘I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t swear on it.’

‘Okay, well that’s all good information and definitely changes the game.’ said Blackheart, ‘If nothing else it buys us a bit more time, we’re also not going to need to take anything else, so won’t need the fences and that means less untrustworthy sorts to get involved and that can only help us.’

‘You mean less trustworthy than us?’ I said sarcastically, though Blackheart wasn’t wrong, the less people you involve on a job the less chances there are for someone to compromise you. ‘So all good then?’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no, I can’t help feeling we’re being set up. I’m sure I was followed earlier but I couldn’t tell by who, and really no one but Kuàng should know what we’re about, so if not one of his men following then who? All just a bit suspicious.’

‘We can still walk away.’ I offered.

‘One doesn’t quit just because things have got a little sticky. No we press on. Carry on cleaning. Get close to the archivist that’s friendly with Kuàng’s man, let’s see if we can work out what they’re up to.

‘Okay,’ I replied, ‘I will. What are you going to do?’

‘Best you don’t know.’ he answered enigmatically. ‘Now drink up I think its time we went our separate ways.’

I finished my drink, got up with a nod to Blackheart and left the pub. Outside it was a warm summer evening and I allowed myself a second to enjoy the moment. The street was thronged with young couples stepping out and for a moment my mind wandered to Ivy Pettigrew, ‘No Raif, no time for that.’ I admonished myself. I blew out my cheeks parked thoughts of Ivy for another time and began a gentle amble back to my digs with thoughts about how to worm my way into the confidence of a nervy archivist at the British Museum.


Chapter 9 – Soho.

While Blackheart was up to god knows what, I was back at the museum as Dave the cleaner. Another week had gone by and I hadn’t found a way to get close to the archivist I’d seen talking to who I thought was Ma Lè Kuàng’s man. It hadn’t helped that I wasn’t the primary cleaner in the area that the archivists worked, currently detailed as I was for cleaning in the main exhibition galleries. I needed to find a way to get reassigned and for that I needed to contrive an opening. As I sat upon the wall with the rest of the cleaning staff one lunch time, eating our sandwiches and having a laugh, an opportunity presented itself. Everyone’s lunches were to a larger or lesser extent the same, sandwiches, maybe a pie, maybe an apple or pear, nothing that really helped me, but what everyone had, without fail, was a flask of tea, and that was my target.

The week passed without incident, and with a friendly wave I left for the weekend. That Saturday morning I found myself a chemist and purchased what I needed for my plan. As Monday came around I was ready. During that first morning shift I slipped away between breaks, where I picked the staff lockers of those that worked the archivists floors and added to each flask of tea enough laxative that they would think they’d contracted dysentery. By mid afternoon the five unfortunates I’d targeted had been sent home, marked as unfit to return to work for the rest of the week. With no other option the management split the cleaning duties between those of us left to clean our current designated areas and to cover the floor that was now without its regular cleaning crew, and of course with a sweet bit of overtime thrown in for good measure.

Over the next two days I went about my business, and like most all cleaners allowed myself to fade into the back ground. It hadn’t taken me long on that first day to locate the scrawny archivist that had been in conversation with Ma Lè Kuàng’s man. Without making too much of an issue about it I made sure I worked that area each day just after lunch, as this is when I’d first spotted the two together. Come the end of Thursday I was beginning to think it had been nothing but a fluke and that Ma Lè Kuàng’s fella wasn’t going to show again. If Friday didn’t produce the goods, come Monday and the nobbled cleaners returned, I would be moved back away from this floor and would have to find another route to spy on the archivist. Friday arrived and the morning passed without incident and it looked ever more likely that I was going to draw a blank.

So resigned was I to nothing happening that I almost missed it when it did. The morning shift finished and so I was heading back to the storeroom to put away the mop before lunch when I caught sight, by chance, of a heavy set Chinese chap entering a door into the areas not designated as places for the public. With mop and bucket in hand I followed. I paused at the door but couldn’t hear anything of any note so I carefully opened the door and stepped through. The room, with end on end work benches seemed empty so I made my way along its length to the door at the far end that led to another area dedicated to cataloguing and renovating items from antiquity. Again I stopped at the door, this time I could hear voices, though muffled. Brazenly I opened the door and strode in like I was meant to be there. Instantly I found myself facing the young archivist and the Chinaman, the moment I entered they stopped talking, I said nothing and simply began mopping the floor like it was the most normal thing in the world, which went down like a lead balloon with Kuàng’s flunky who began shouting and gesticulating at me in angry tones.

‘Divvant mind me mate,’ I said jovially, ‘Ah just need te dee in heor before lunch.’

‘No you leave, you leave.’ he waved me away.

‘Me boss will hev me balls if Ah divvent finish up.’ I protested leaning on my mop with the carefree insolence of all workmen who know they are in the right yet don’t actually care, and using the moment to take a proper look at Kuàng’s lackey. He was thickset with a square head, broad shoulders, powerfully built but with a flush to his face that suggested maybe not as fit as he should be. He was also clearly not in the mood to be messed about by a mere cleaner and he got right in my face and jabbed me painfully in the chest.

‘You go, now!’ he growled menacingly.

‘Alright you’re the boss.’ I conceded but, before I backed off, I turned to the archivist and said, ‘If anyone asks Ah cleaned in heor reet.’ then with mop and bucket in hand retreated beyond the door. Once back in the other room I made a noisy point of walking away from the room I’d just been in, before carefully hiding the mop and bucket beneath one of the benches and doubled back silently to listen at the door.

The voices were still muffled but clearly my turning up had agitated Kuàng’s man, who was speaking angrily and loud enough that I could pick out a few more words. They were clearly setting up a time and place for the archivist to bring him something, but I couldn’t hear what, only a time and place, Wednesday, nine pm, Soho Square, I couldn’t catch the building number. The archivist said nothing, though from the short time as I had seen the two together the relationship seemed very one sided and I got the sense the archivist didn’t have much recourse other than to comply with whatever had been instructed of him. Suddenly the sound of voices talking was replaced by the sound of footsteps heading towards the door. Quickly I moved away and dived under one of the desks and hid.

The door opened and two sets of footfalls traversed the room, one set light and hesitant the other heavy and purposeful but clearly with a bit of a limp. The fact neither paused as they moved across the floor suggested they hadn’t expected I’d still been in the room and listening in. I let them go, waited for the door to close and just for good measure stayed under the desk for another couple of minutes giving everyone a good chance to have left the area. Carefully I slid out from under the desk, retrieved the mop and bucket and quietly left the room making sure I wasn’t spotted.

I knew that us cleaners finished the day earlier than the archivists as we started a good couple of hours before them, so once I clocked off that evening I waited about outside keeping an eye on the entrance for when the archivist left for the night. Eventually they all spilled out to go back to whatever and wherever they called home. Spotting my quarry I let him get away in-front then began to tail him to a bus stop. Luckily there were enough people waiting in the queue that I could remain obscured from his sight, not that he was paying much attention, too busy joking and laughing with two other of the young archivists as they waited for the bus.

Before long the bus showed up and they jumped on, doing what all young folks do and went up to the top deck. I instead grabbed a seat on the bottom deck, which I instantly gave up to a middle aged woman who got on after me, and so I remained standing. Unsure of where the archivist was going to get off I had little choice but to purchase a ticket to the end of the line when approached by the clippy for a bus ticket, which turned out to be probably about fifteen more stops than I had needed as the archivist and his mates all jumped off way before the end of the route at Wood Green.

I waited till the bus was just about to set off again before jumping off myself at the last second. I quickly picked them up again and giving them a bit of distance I followed them back to a set of digs, that looked well kept if not particularly special. In my time at the museum I had learned that the archaeology staff from the senior fellows to the students all tended to be from well heeled families. Archaeology was evidently a rich man’s game, luring younger more studious gentlemen into its clutches on a chance of fame, fortune and excitement, no doubt all dreaming of making the next great historical discovery, like some character in a H. Rider Haggard novel.

I suspect most of them did not expect their chosen profession to consist mainly of sitting in dingy basements of a museum meticulously polishing and dusting bits of old pottery, endlessly cataloguing items that were hardly exciting. I don’t care how old they may be but a button is a button. It was against this backdrop that I wondered just what misfortune had dragged the young archivist into the clutches of Ma Lè Kuàng? If I was a betting man I would have staked my life on it being money, but then again as the archivist was probably financially well off enough that money wasn’t the thing most likely to get him into trouble, in which case if not money then what was the thing that could most damage a young gentleman’s life, then it dawned on me, his reputation. Mmmmm, just what secrets are you harbouring lad, I thought suspiciously.

Now I was here I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next. If I’d been Blackheart I would have probably strolled into the archivists digs like I owned the place, befriend him, take him out for a drink or three and by the end of the night have learned every last dirty secret the lad had, and then more than likely end up helping him add some more shameful secrets to brood on at a later date. I shivered at that thought as some of my own dark secrets forced their way to the front of my mind where I promptly forced back down never to see the light of day. I however was no Blackheart and so didn’t enter just kept a watchful eye to see if I could at least work out which of the flats he occupied. Sadly after maybe a half an hour waiting on an ever quieting street I could no longer remain in place without sparking someone’s interest and suspicion so I gave up on my vigil and took myself home.

I could have left a mark for Blackheart to meet me, but with nothing to report other than I’d seen the archivist and Ma Lè Kuàng’s man together refrained from summoning him. That evening lying on my bed, mind a whirl with possibilities I settled on using the next evening to take a tour of Soho Square with a view to seeing if I could work out the likely rendezvous of the archivist and Kuàng’s man. It was a long shot to be sure but right now I had little to go on.

Saturday was hot, stuffy and threatened storms later in the day. I spent the day taking a relaxed stroll through Hyde Park, a light lunch at one of the many eateries that had opened in London post the war, found a pleasant pub with a beer garden to have a refreshing drink before taking myself away to rest up for the afternoon and prepare myself for whatever the evening would bring.

As the sun began to sink I set out for the evening. I had spent part of the afternoon jotting down all I’d found out and placed it in an envelope addressed to Blackheart, leaving it on the bedside table. Should anything bad befall me at least Blackheart would have some idea of what I had been onto and the last place I’d gone. It didn’t take me long to reach Convent Garden, where I passed sometime watching the world go by, drinking in the hubbub and nightlife of London, before winding my way to Soho.

Soho was a riot of colour, noise and mayhem with an underlying current of sleaze and mischief that pervaded the streets. To my trained eye I had already picked out the likely pick pockets and ne’er-do-wells. Street stalls offered up various foods for locals and tourists alike to snack upon. Finally I alighted upon Soho Square itself. Full of Georgian buildings wrapped around Soho Gardens, a small park, in the centre of the square. Finding the place that the Archivist was to go was going to be hit and miss, still I wasn’t in a rush so I began a slow perambulation around the entire Square. Of course there was nothing to say he would be meeting someone in a building it could just as easy be in the gardens. Once round, nothing. Twice round and I began to mark certain places that contained businesses that would be considered a bit dodgy. In-fact Soho Square was home to quite a lot of less than salubrious places, gambling dens, opium parlours, bare knuckle fighting pits, brothels, oh yes every base past time was catered for here.

As nothing had jumped out at me as the likely location for a clandestine archivist meet I decided my only option was likely to be to tail the archivist from his digs on Wednesday night to watch who he met. While it would definitely allow me to make sure I got to the correct place, to tail someone as far as I would have to would make it hard not to be spotted by the archivist, or by anyone sent to watch over him. As I completed my third circuit and contemplating giving up a door opened up beside me, casting a bright light across the dingy street, almost immediately a body landed heavily in-front of me with a splat, angry voices from behind the door hurled abuse at the prone figure with thick Chinese accents.

I stepped over the groaning body and peered inside. Behind the door I caught a glimpse of soft nubile flesh draped in fine and skimpy silks and I must say for a moment I stood transfixed, when the sight was blocked by a thickset Chinese man who stepped in front of me and pushed me away. I looked up holding up my hands in the international sign of hey don’t push me I’m leaving and found myself staring straight into the face of the Archivists Chinese tormentor. There was a moment of shared recognition, where I swore in Geordie and moved on quickly.

I didn’t look back, as that would have shown Kuàng’s man I was interested in him or in their place, whereas simply walking away conveyed I didn’t give a damn about either. I could but hope he believed my apparent lack of interest. I ambled my way through the crowd, slowly exiting my way from Soho. I took a few random turns to hopefully throw anyone off the scent who may be following me, and a couple of times I aimed myself at places with darkened windows so I could catch a reflection of anyone who may be following. Eventually I worked my way back to Covent Garden. Convinced I was on my own I relaxed as I approached the entrance to the underground when a hand grabbed my shoulder and something hard was shoved against my ribs.

I turned my head sharply to find myself staring into the rough face of Ma Lè Kuàng’s henchman, who grinned nastily and said ‘No’ and with his hand on my shoulder directed me away from the underground. My momentary sense of safety dissipated like dust in the wind as I was led away to a less than promising fate.


Chapter 10 – Nasty Predicament.

Ma Lè Kuàng’s henchman pushed me before him, hand clamped upon my shoulder and something that felt like a gun barrel pressed hard against my ribs, not the best predicament to find oneself in. As we headed back towards Soho through the busy London streets I weighed up my options, which were rapidly diminishing as a momentary opening failed to present itself that I could use to break free. All too soon I was stood before the door of the brothel in Soho Square that I had glimpsed behind just a short whiles earlier.

The pressure on my shoulder momentarily relented as Kuàng’s man hammered upon the door, from which a panel slid back and a pair of oriental eyes peered out, regarding me critically before alighting on my captor. The hatch slid shut, I could hear the sound of a bolt being drawn back then the door opened and I was bundled through. Inside the light was subdued with a faintly pinkish hue, the air warm, thick and heavily perfumed. I was forced down a long corridor with doors off to the left and right, which out of one stepped a scantily clad girl, in a pair of silk panties and a shear gown, open to the waist that did little to hide her modesty.

Her right hand lightly held that of a man whom she pulled after her, leading him to a set of stairs, that began three quarters of the way along the corridor, they began to ascend. The man foolishly looked back for a second catching me looking at him and for a moment his facade dropped, a look of shame crossed flitted across his face before a tug on his hand by the petite girl encouraged him to continue up after her. For my own part I was pushed past the foot of the stairs and along the rest of the corridor that ran along the wall that separated it from the stairs, to a door at its end.

‘Open it.’ I was commanded so I reached out lifting the simple latch that kept the door closed, and pulled it open. Before me was a set of stairs heading down, bathed in a sickly yellow glow from a single low watt bulb hanging above the top step. A shove in my ribs made it clear I was to go down them. I could feel my stomach turning to liquid as a knot of fear twisted my guts. I was glad the thug was behind me and couldn’t see my face or in that second he would have registered my fear, as it was I got myself back under control and carefully took the uneven steps down.

At the bottom I found myself in an expansive cellar, which opened out the width of the entire building. The first ten feet in was open before giving way to racking and shelving. Looking about me it was clear the cellar was used primarily as a store, mainly booze by the looks of things, though the further away from the stairs one looked the more the cellar descended into darkness making it almost impossible to discern what else was down here.

A rusty metal topped table rested against the back wall, and against it lent a chair, which I was ordered to pull to the centre of the floor and sit upon. The pressure against my ribs removed briefly then punched into them with a quick snap, causing me to wince as pain shot through my side, making it clear I was to obey or else. Confident I got the message my captor stepped away from me.

‘Chair.’ he snapped, so I moved to it, grabbing it by the back uprights and turned carefully to bring it to the centre of the room as instructed. As I turned away from the table, chair in hand, Kuàng’s man amazingly, foolishly stepped past me, his back to me as he placed his gun upon the table and began to remove suit jacket, needing no second invitation I hefted the chair and swung it hard across his shoulders smashing him into the table. For good measure I hit him again, forcing him to the ground, dropping the chair I sprinted back up the stairs, two at a time.

At the top I paused, opening the door a crack and peeked out, the corridor was clear, with the exception of a wiry, ageing, man of oriental descent perched upon a stool reading, clearly the door man. I pushed the door open and stepped through quietly, as from down below I could hear groaning and the sound of a heavy man dragging himself to his feet, damn the guy was strong. Quickly I shut the door and shuffled along the corridor, head hung low in mock shame, as though I was just another punter who having done the deed was now making his exit under a cloud of self remorse.

I reached the front door and with a weak smile I nodded at the doorman who hopped off his stool and began to pull back the bolts. He had just unlocked the door and was reaching for the knob to let me out when the door at the far end burst open and the fella I’d beaten down with chair came crashing through, shouting manically in Chinese, waving his gun wildly. At the same moment two things happened, out of a door on the left a couple of girls stepped into the corridor and seeing the madman waving the gun screamed, both trying to step back through the door getting in each other’s way and blocking Kuàng’s man from having a clear sight of me and any chance to shoot. The other thing that happened is the doorman grabbed my wrist also shouting madly, who I punched heavily in the face, then gave him a further two snap punches causing him to let go. I grabbed the door, flung it open and raced through, just as Kuàng’s man pushed past the screaming women.

I slammed the door closed behind me then ran out into the crowds. Behind me I could here shouting, picked up by more voices, all high pitched and yelling in a language that although I did not understand the individual words the meaning was unequivocal, catch the escapee, meaning me.

I ran hard, knocking anyone who got in my way aside as I made my escape, slowly the majority of voices behind me dwindled, though always a few kept pace. Fear and adrenaline kept me going, though my breath was now coming in short rasping gasps and my legs were turning to lead and a stitch was cramping in my side. Christ when had I become so unfit?

I reached Watergate Walk on the Embankment and allowed myself to stop. Looking behind me from whence I came there was no sign of anyone still in pursuit. Hands on my knees I breathed in huge lungfuls of air as the sweat dripped from my brow, even in the cool night air. After a minute or so as my heartbeat returned to something akin to normal I stood up straight took one last look behind me before heading for the entrance out onto Villiers Street, I could see the iron railings and the gate between them and was all but four strides away when stepping through came a heavy set Chinese ruffian, with a long drooping moustache, dressed in an expensive Saville Row suit who pointed a gun at me.

My heart sank as he indicated I should turn back into the Victoria Embankment Gardens. Making sure I was always a few step too far away to rush him I was directed into a quiet, dark secluded corner, where a single street lamp cast long shadows within which I now stood, with no one else around Kuàng’s man said something in Chinese and laughing nastily pointed the gun at me with a finality that spelt my end….., which is when Blackheart appeared behind him and the rest you know of that night, for that is where the telling of this tale began.

So now you’re all caught up where do we go from here, well not back to the bedsit, at least not immediately. I followed Blackheart into the night where we whiled away the hours drinking, gambling and watching a rather risqué show at one of the gentleman’s club not usually talked about in polite society. When we, or should I say Blackheart, decided to call it a night it was fast approaching dawn and so we headed straight to the train station to catch the morning train that would take us back to Maidenhead.

Somewhere approaching breakfast time we rolled up at Blackheart’s aunt’s place where we bid the staff good morning as we both retired to our respective bedrooms and got some much needed sleep.

It was gone noon when I finally stirred and it wouldn’t be till closer to three of the afternoon before Blackheart showed himself. We adjourned to the garden where we partook of a light afternoon tea and compared notes. I told Blackheart everything I had learned about the workings of the museum, where I believed the Coils of the Anaconda were to be moved and when, where the archivist who has ties to Kaung lives, the hours he keeps at work and about the planned meeting with Kaung’s man this coming Wednesday. All of which Blackheart listened to with a bored indifference. Once I’d finished, and expecting him to be all agog at what I learned instead he brushed it aside as so much niff naff and trivia.

‘Really,’ I said a little nonplussed, ‘have you nothing to say about all that?’

‘Well I could humour you and ask you question after question regarding how you think we’d best intercept the movement of the Coils, or I could spare us both the time and instead tell you what’s really going on.’ he brushed my endeavours aside with a flick of a half eaten sandwich.

‘What?’

‘My dear Raif, this is, as you so rightly espoused not so long ago, a set up. We are being played for wooden headed chumps.’

‘We are?’

‘Yes, which I find dashed rude and not a little unsporting to boot.’ the indignation was positively dripping from every syllable, ‘And I shan’t let this slight stand.’

Oh dear, I thought, when Blackheart uses the word “slight” in respect to his own person what he actually means in his very understated manner is that he is feeling his honour, professional reputation and his standing as a gentleman had been effectively dragged through the mud, and that’s an insult he could not, would not let stand. I had a feeling our undertaking had changed from a relatively simple job, even if the mechanics of the actually deed were anything but, into something altogether more personal and dangerous. As I stared at Blackheart quietly bristling across a cup of tea and some delicate sandwiches I realised he had that look that said we were going to war, but with whom and why I had no clue. Suddenly the chances of this ending well had dropped away alarmingly.


Chapter 11 – Contraptions.

The first thing Blackheart had me do that next morning was shave. I was, under no circumstances, to look like the British Museum’s Geordie cleaner Dave.

‘But if I’m not there undercover how will we know when they are to move the Coils?’ I asked not without fair reasoning, which Blackheart brushed aside with barely a consideration.

‘That’s no longer an issue old boy, from now on we’re doing this Blackheart style.’ he answered with a smile.

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Yes I am going the full Blackheart. Night time break in, only taking the coils, leaving my calling card and everything.’

‘What?’ I could barely believe my ears, ‘Are you insane? Do you want to bring the police down upon us.’

‘Most definitely.’ he replied enigmatically, ‘Now go get yourself dressed we leave in twenty minutes.’

‘Leave? Leave for where?’

‘Hendon. We’ll need the car. Well don’t just stand there looking gormless, go get dressed for a day out with cars and planes.’

‘Oh good god, you’re not flying are you.’

‘Of course, its a glorious day for a quick punt around the skies.’

Shaking my head I quickly left to get dressed in my tweeds and sturdy brogues ready for a day outdoors before heading out to the stable where Blackheart kept his pride and joy, a 1921 Napier. I have to say perched up on the high seat next to Blackheart as he barrelled down country lanes, inevitably swerving to avoid horses, cattle, people and anything else that dared step foot upon the Kings highway scared the bejeezus out of me. How we ever made it anywhere alive was beyond me. As I stood there staring balefully at the green beast Blackheart bounded in, googles round his neck, flat cap pulled tightly upon his head, brown leather driving gauntlets covering each hand and lower arm, slapped me on the shoulder and with an excited bark compelled me to ‘Start her up old bean.’ as he jumped into the drivers seat and began priming whatever it was the beast required to start. Sighing I moved to stand before the large flat radiator grill and bent to grab the starting handle protruding from beneath its snub nose.

‘Okay Raif, turn her over.’

Cursing the day I ever met him I squared my shoulders, tensed my arms and gave a quick, sharp crank of the handle. There was a momentary threat of a spark as the car rocked on it springs but failed to catch.

‘Again.’ Blackheart called from the driver’s seat.

I cranked it again, and again and again until with a reluctant series of pops and bangs the engine fired and the whole thing began to roar and vibrate like a bear woken suddenly from its slumber, and like a bear, I thought, this thing now wants to kill me.

I stood aside to let Blackheart edge the car from out of the stable, where I closed up behind it. Then, somewhat reluctantly, I climbed up beside him into the passenger seat. As the machine thrummed, spluttered, shook and rattled Blackheart handed me a pair of goggles, which I pulled into place, and then we were off, shooting out of the grounds like a stabbed rat. Beside me Blackheart roared with laughter, a demented grin spread across his face, while I hung on for grim death, lips pursed in an almost perpetual in-breath as I tried to control my nerves.

‘How far is it to Hendon?’ I yelled across the roar of the engine and wind noise.

‘About thirty miles.’

Oh dear god, I thought, we’ll never make it, as we barely made the turn over the bridge barely missing a dray horse and cart as we went. Some two, terrifying hours later we finally reached Hendon aerodrome. My fingers had almost froze into place, I’d gripped the edge of the seat that hard that it was painful to prise them free. Though the thought of getting off the monstrous contraption filled me with delight, the nagging worry that I would have to return in the damn thing wouldn’t let me relax.

Blackheart was if anything even more giddy than when we left his aunt’s house. As we made our way from the car to a series of low hangers his head kept whipping around to look at whatever flimsy machine buzzed overhead. Judging by the amount of planes in the air this flying lark had clearly caught on.

Blackheart led me to a hanger with a sign hung upon it that read Farnaby’s. The doors to the hanger were open and inside nestling in the relative darkness I could make out at least two planes. With a jaunty skip Blackheart led me inside, straight past the first aircraft, some two seat thing that Blackheart informed me was a Avro 504K, like that was supposed to mean something, to another larger, two engined aircraft with a couple of gentleman working upon it.

Blackheart called out a name and one of the chaps turned around, stood up and began wiping oil from his hands on a cloth that looked every bit as oily.

‘Raif may I introduce you to Captain Eddie Farnaby MC, retired.’ the fellow struck out an oily hand which I took and received a firm handshake. Eddie Farnaby was a slight, blonde haired, blue eyed chap with a lopsided grin and a faraway look in his eye that said he had seen rather too much for one so young. I had come across flyers like this during the war, young men of nineteen and twenty, who looked forty and had a nervous edge to them brought about by living minute to minute. I had been in the trenches, and while that aged you, if you weren’t involved in direct action you had a good chance of making it through the week, at least if you weren’t careless, but the pilots, well their own machines were every bit as likely to kill them as the enemy, and so their life expectancy was measured in hours not days, and that created men living on the edge like Farnaby. Of course I didn’t say any of this merely shook his hand and said ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘So,’ said Blackheart to Farnaby, ‘did you get it?’

‘I did. You sure about this?’

‘Most definitely. Can I see it?’

Farnaby didn’t reply just turned and headed to the rear of the hanger. Blackheart positively bounced along behind him, and with little idea of what else to do I followed. At the rear of the hanger, upon a large work bench rested something bulky with a tarpaulin covering it. Farnaby pulled the tarpaulin back to reveal what looked like a large case with heavy webbing straps attached. Blackheart stepped up and ran his hands along it lovingly.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Farnaby turned to me and said ‘Its one of the latest Irvine Type A parachutes out of America.’

‘Oh,’ I replied. ‘is this what you pilot types are wearing now?’

‘No, these are strictly military at the moment.’

‘O-kay, so why is that here? I thought Blackheart said you’re retired.’

‘I am. But I still have contacts who have contacts, and well Devlin asked if I could acquire him one.’

He called Blackheart Devlin, I noted, which spoke volumes about the trust and friendship Blackheart must have for Farnaby, very few people ever got to refer to him by his Sunday name. ‘So why do you want one?’ I asked Blackheart.

‘What, oh I will tell you later, here help me on with it please.’

Shrugging Farnaby and I got to either side of Blackheart and helped him on with the pack. Once in place Blackheart stood, slightly bent over at the waist with the weight of the thing. He began pulling the straps tight and moving around, all the time speaking to himself, ‘Yes, yes, you know this might just work.’

‘Work, what might work?’ I asked.

Farnaby looked askance at Blackheart ‘Haven’t you told him?’ he enquired.

‘No, I was going to wait till he’d seen it rather than ruining the surprise.’

‘Surprise, what surprise?’ I looked to Farnaby who struggled to look me in the eye before turning away saying, ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’

With Farnaby gone and Blackheart grinning like a Cheshire cat I asked him again, ‘What surprise?’

‘This dear boy is how I am getting into the British Museum.’

‘What, you are walking in with that thing on your back, what on earth for, you can barely move in it.’

‘No you don’t understand.’

‘You’re damn right I don’t? If you want to take a bag in with you to put the stolen goods in surely you can find something smaller and less obvious than…that. And why would you wear a parachute into a museum anyway?’

‘I’m not wearing it in, I am wearing it to drop on.’

‘Drop on?’

‘Drop on the museum.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, Farnaby is going to fly me over the museum and I am going to plop out of the kite and drift down to the top of the museum, unseen, unhindered, where I will enter the place via one of the skylights.’

Clearly my face painted a thousands words, which is why Blackheart’s smile suddenly dropped and said ‘What?’

I couldn’t answer, of all the hair brained schemes Blackheart had come up with this was by far the most stupid. I threw my hands up in despair and said ‘Sorry you’re on your own.’ and stomped away angrily, leaving Blackheart stood in his parachute for once looking flummoxed.


Chapter 12 – Anger and Recriminations.

We were back in the Napier heading home in silence. After I had stalked out of the hanger leaving Blackheart gobsmacked by my response at his revelation that he intended to parachute onto the British Museum, at night, with an untried parachute, he had quickly put my reaction to the back of his mind and taken to the skies with Farnaby.

I sat on the Napier, quietly fuming, as the two engined aircraft piloted by Farnaby lumbered into the sky, and when at a reasonable height stopped climbing to perform lazy circles over Hendon airfield. For the next hour Blackheart, wearing the cumbersome parachute, climbed in and out of the cockpit and onto the wing repeatedly. At first no one paid this any heed but then someone noticed the crazy wing walking antics of Blackheart and before you knew it all necks and eyes were craned heavenwards, watching the death defying show, which was accompanied by many oos, aahs and the occasional collective gasp as on more than one occasion Blackheart almost fell from the wing. Eventually he climbed back into the cockpit for a final time and remained there as Farnaby brought the aircraft down steadily to land it smoothly on the grass airstrip.

Almost immediately a crowd swarmed about it to talk to the crazy wing walking man. What Blackheart chose to tell them to explain away his antics I knew not, nor did I care, I was still angry that he was even contemplating going through with his crazy scheme.

Later, arriving back at Maidstone, we put away the car and in stony silence returned to the house. Our uneasy silence continued through until dinner. We were half way through the main course when Lady Margaret put down her knife and fork and said curtly ‘Well this is as enjoyable as malaria, what’s gotten into you two.’

‘Devlin intends to kill himself.’ I replied coldly.

‘That’s absurd.’ he responded dismissively.

‘Really? Is it? How else would you explain your plan other than a death wish come true.’

‘Nonsense, its all perfectly safe.’

‘Hardly, you almost fell to your death a few times today, and that was in daylight. How do you think you will manage when its pitch dark and you can’t see what you’re doing.’

‘But I didn’t fall, and when I do this for real there will be light, the lights from all of London.’

‘Like that is going to help.’

‘How would you know you’ve never flown.’

‘I don’t need to have flown to know your plan is reckless beyond belief.’

‘You know your problem?’

‘No, do tell.’ I said, putting down my cutlery angrily.

‘You have no imagination.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes, you can’t see the bigger picture, can’t imagine the possibilities new technology opens up to us. You are stuck in old ways. Have you ever had an original idea in your whole life?’ Blackheart sniped viscously.

That stung, I could feel my face flushing with fury. Incandescent I stood, my balled fists leaning heavily on the table I was about to unleash a tirade of abuse and home truths when, with perfect timing Margaret took all the wind out of my sails ‘Sit down dear.’ she said calmly, ‘I’ll have no fighting in my parlour, At least not unless I have someone to wager with on the outcome.’ she cocked an eyebrow with devilish charm. ‘Now Devlin what is young Raif talking about?’ Margaret finished with a gentle nod my way indicating I should sit. Completely in her thrall I flopped back into my chair, quietly seething yet impotent in the face of Lady De Lacy’s calm repose.

‘It’s nothing Aunty.’ Blackheart tried to dismiss the conversation but Margaret was having none of it.

‘Clearly it is not nothing or Raif wouldn’t have been about to launch himself across the table to knock some sense and servility into you. So, tell me, what are you planning?’ Blackheart squirmed uneasily beneath his aunt’s unflinching gaze, ‘Well?’

Blackheart’s resolve crumbled, ‘I’m going to parachute onto the roof of the British Museum.’ he said eyes fixed firmly on the table cloth.

‘You are going to do what?’

‘Parachute onto the British Museum.’

‘Why? What ever possessed you to……? Have you lost a wager?’ For the first time in a long time Lady Margaret sounded truly surprised, and her normal composure slipped ‘Are you bloody insane you stupid child? What would your mother say to hear you suggest something so monumentally stupid. Raif?’

‘Yes?’ I answered.

‘I’m sorry I stopped you just now, please jump over the table and administer the beating this idiot so rightfully deserves.’

‘Happily.’ I growled and began to get to my feet.

‘Whoa, now just hang on there old man, no need for violence. Aunty please, just hear me out.’ Blackheart pleaded.

‘Raif…,’ Margaret held up a hand pausing my response, ‘Okay Devlin dear, explain yourself.’

‘Very well,’ he said huffily, ‘if you must know, we have been set up as a fall guy by Kuàng, to act as a distraction while he arranges to have something else stolen.’

‘Is that true?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Why else did you think I have been watching you close enough I was able to step in and stop Kuàng’s man from putting a bullet between your eyes?’

‘Well I just supposed you’d been to the apartment and seen my note.’

‘If you had relied on that I would now be planning your funeral, providing your body wasn’t just dumped in the Thames of course. Might never have found you. No I have been keeping a close eye on you for the past week or two.’

Suddenly I felt my anger totally dissipate knowing Blackheart had my back all along, ‘Well, err, thanks Devlin. Much appreciated.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s all very well,’ snapped Lady Margaret, ‘but that doesn’t explain why you want to leap from a plane onto the museum.’

‘At night.’ I added.

‘At night? Oh dear god this just gets better and better.’

‘Trust me it’s the only way.’ replied Blackheart.

‘Well, no, it isn’t.’ I said, ‘You could literally take the tube. The museum has its own train stop. From there you could take the main route in from the platform straight into the place, or you could take one of the entrances less travelled that most don’t know about, that lead off some of the station passageways. If I can go back to my cleaning job I can make it so you will be able to just slip in, no one would know you’re there.’

‘Kuàng would. Don’t get me wrong Raif it’s a good idea and any other time I would take you up on it, but this time, well it’s simply not an option.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Sorry old boy, I know you mean well but it isn’t. For one your cover is blown, so even if you did go back your every move would be under scrutiny. As good as you are you would never be able to sneak away to open up anything without being seen. Kuàng has a lot of the staff on his payroll.’

‘Really? How?’

‘The usual, he has collected dirt on a lot of members of the Museum, they have no choice but to do his bidding or he will ruin their lives.’

‘But if that is the case he must have been planning this a long time,’ I said shocked, ‘It takes time to gather dirt on someone.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Language.’ Lady Margaret admonished.

‘Sorry Margaret.’ I apologised sincerely.

‘So you see now Kuàng’s man knows who you are, being Dave is no longer an option. Better that character is out of play.’

‘I still don’t see why you can’t take the train in?’

‘Because there are too many eyes watching for me. Sure I might make it off the platform, may even make it to the museum itself unnoticed, but as I don’t know all who are in his thrall I can’t avoid everyone.’

‘Does that matter?’ asked Lady Margaret. ‘You are stealing for him after all, does it matter he knows when you performing the heist?’

‘Unfortunately because that will play into his hands. No, I need to pull the job without him knowing. He can only find out I have taken the Coils when everyone else does, not before, or our goose is cooked.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘You still haven’t told us what he’s up to.’

‘Ah, well Raif, that’s the ingenious part.’ he began enigmatically, ‘But before I tell you I think we should grab a whiskey, a large one and retire to the drawing room where I shall divulge all.’ Blackheart made to stand, ‘Aunty if you’ll excuse us.’

‘The very idea,’ Lady Margaret snapped, ‘I shall not be left out on this.’ she picked up the bell from the table and rang, smartly Mrs. Heller, Lady Margaret’s long time companion and head of the staff appeared, ‘Yes Margaret?’

‘Please have a large gin brought through to the drawing room.’

‘Of course, anything else?’

‘No thank you Madeline. Once the dining room has been cleared away please let the staff have the rest of the evening off. If you’d care to join us after please feel free.’

‘Thanks but I think I shall take a walk instead. It is a lovely evening.’ Madeline replied in her polite but to the point manner she had always affected whenever I and Blackheart were about. I had it from good authority that when we were not present Madeline was a far more relaxed individual, with a wicked sense of humour and a ready smile. Though as I watched as she turned sharply on her heel to leave the room, that side of her was not on display, instead she was the very epitome of straight back deportment and proprietary.

Leaving Mrs Heller to sort the household and organise Lady Margaret’s gin, the three of us moved to the drawing room. Once seated comfortably, and with drinks in hand Blackheart began to tell us everything he had learned of Kuàng’s diabolical plan.


Chapter 13 – Simon.

Wednesday, in-fact the Wednesday when the Archivist had been instructed to go to Kuàng’s place in Soho. After hearing what Blackheart had told me of Kuàng’s plans for us I now fully understood why Blackheart had made it his mission to, and I quote, stiff the rancid fellow for every thing he owns. That stiffing, as Blackheart put it, was to commence tonight.

We knew he had to be in Soho Square for 9pm, we knew he was heading for Kuàng’s brothel. We didn’t expect him to be schooled in the field craft of not being followed or spotted by one’s enemies so we were fairly convinced we knew the direction from which he’d appear, we were not wrong.

Alone, looking nervous, a sheen of sweat glistening from his forehead, cradling a box close to his side, everything about him said guilty. As he made his way into the square Blackheart and I fell in either side of him, matching his shuffling gait, ‘Evening.’ I said.

‘Errrr’ he looked at me, trying to place my face.

‘What you got there?’

‘N, n, nothing.’

‘Oh come now,’ Blackheart chipped in, the archivist’s head snapping round to watch him fearfully, ‘Kuàng wouldn’t have you bring him just nothing.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Maybe your friend.’ said Blackheart.

‘Or maybe your worse nightmare.’ I said causing the archivists head to snap back to me, his grip on the box tightening.

‘Don’t worry,’ Blackheart threw his arm protectively around the archivists shoulders, ‘I rather think we’d prefer to be friends. Wouldn’t you prefer to be friends?’ Blackheart’s smile at that moment would have put the Cheshire cat to shame.

‘Um, well, yes, I, I, guess I would?’

‘You don’t sound convinced Simon.’

‘How do you know my name? I never told you my name.’ eyes wide and ready to bolt only Blackheart’s hold upon his shoulder halting his flight.

‘Now, now Raif no need to scare the lad.’ Blackheart oozed charm, ‘Don’t take no notice of my friend here. He’s just playing with you.’

‘How do you know who I am?’ The archivist’s feet rooted to the spot, his gaze flitting nervously between Blackheart and I.

‘My friend here,’ said Blackheart, ‘knows an awful lot about you Simon. Where you work, when you work, where you live, who your friends are, what bus you take to get home, yes all sorts of things. He also knows you are currently in the thrall of a scary Chinese gentleman, who I believe has you over a bit of a barrel.’ Simon stared mouth open at Blackheart as though he’d just put his hand inside his mind and pulled out all his dirty secrets.

‘But you needn’t worry, we’re not here to judge, but you do something for us and we’ll get you out from under the Chinaman and whatever it is he has over you. What do you say?’

The archivist said nothing just stood, frozen, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

‘Simon,’ I nudged him, ‘Would you like us to help you?’

‘You can do that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really? You can?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why? Why would you do that for me?’

‘Ever heard the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’

‘Well yes.’

‘Well we have the same enemy, so………’ Blackheart’s arm slipped from Simon’s shoulders as he stepped in-front of him, arms open wide, a welcoming smile upon his face, ‘,,,,,,,,so?’

‘So the Chinaman is your enemy so that makes us….friends?’ Simon uttered the word friend more with hope than conviction as he stared at the smiling Blackheart, who placed his hands on Simon’s shoulders and with utter honesty answered ‘Yes.’

The archivist almost buckled with relief, ‘Oh thank god.’ he said with a heavy breath.

‘Not God,’ said Blackheart, ‘but Blackheart, and Raif here you have already met.’

‘No, I don’t think so.’ he replied looking at me, squinting hard trying to place me.

‘Do you want to tell him or should I?’ Blackheart asked across him.

I rolled my eyes at Blackheart’s theatrics, ‘Well aalreet. Dyer want me te clean yer station?’ I asked my best Dave the cleaner from Newcastle said

‘The cleaner?’ said Simon disbelieving.

‘Aye, the git same.’ I answered, a bit put out he only knew me as the cleaner and not as Dave. How typical those born into wealth and privileged seldom take any notice of those they see as beneath them. He could have at least learnt my damn name, I almost said to Blackheart, as I felt the set of my jaw harden and contemplated leaving him to his fate, but I refrained, opting instead to stick with the plan.

‘See,’ said Blackheart, ‘we’ve had our eyes on you for a while. And we know you have problems with the Chinaman. We have have issues with him as well, so you see we can help each other.’

‘But if I help you, he’ll……..’ Simon’s voice tailed off.

‘He’ll do what?’

‘Ruin me.’ Simon whimpered, eyes down cast, shoulders slumped in defeat.

‘Not if we ruin him first.’ Blackheart’s eyes blazed with malice. ‘Chin up lad, we’re going to destroy him, and the best of it is he’ll never see it coming. So what do you say, friends?’ Blackheart held out his hand, which Simon regarded dubiously then with a sigh of the damned took it and the pair shook, ‘Friends.’ Simon answered.

‘Good, well I, if I am not mistaken,’ said Blackheart taking taking out his pocket watch to give it a cursory glance, ‘you are about a half of an hour early for your meet, so we have time.’

‘Time for what?’

‘To leave Soho Square,’ I replied, ‘and go and have a friendly chat some place with less of a crowd.’

‘And I know just the place.’ said Blackheart, ‘Follow me.’

And so we did, with Blackheart in the lead, then Simon, with me bringing up the rear, as much to stop Simon making a break for it and to keep an eye out for anyone who may be watching us leading the Archivist they were expecting away from where they expected him to be.

Blackheart led us to a non de-script door, down a back street a few minutes walk away from Soho Square. He gave a quick rap on the door and a hatch slid back revealing a couple of beady eyes, then the hatch slid back sharply, a key turned in a lock and the door swung open. Blackheart stepped through, and we followed. Inside the air was thick and humid, and carried a sweet smell of citrus and cinnamon, the lights low. Blackheart stood shaking the hand of a swarthy man with a dark beard and hawkish nose. The man nodded and gestured Blackheart and the rest of us to follow. We were led to a doorway with an intricate cusped arch above it, and a bead curtain hung at it’s back, that our host held aside for us so that we may pass inside. The room into which we entered was richly carpeted, the walls hung with heavy, finely woven tapestries. Placed against the wall facing back to the entrance a low slung couch with many cushions. An equally low, highly polished, wood table set before it, with an extravagant hookah stood atop, with four pipes leading from the bowl.

‘Sit down gentlemen.’ said Blackheart.

Myself and Simon sat and made ourselves comfortable, well I did, Simon perched nervously upon the edge of the seta still clutching the box he had tightly to him. Moments later the gentleman that had let us into the room re-appeared, serving an apple tea to each of us in-turn. He then turned his attention to the Hookah setting and some burning coals and atop the shisha bowl. With a bow he left the room.

Blackheart took the pipe nearest him and lightly inhaled a number of times drawing hot air through the shisha drawing smoke down into the water bowl at the base of the hookah, before taking a long drag drawing the sweet tasting smoke into his lungs, then calmly exhaled, a look of calm pleasure suffusing his face. ‘Please.’ he said indicating the other pipes.

‘This takes me back.’ I said as I too drew some sweet tasting smoke into my lungs.

‘Aleppo?’

‘Yes Aleppo.’ I answered wistfully, thinking back to the end of Allenby’s campaign in the middle east at the back end on 1918.

‘What was her name again?’ asked Blackheart playfully.

‘Kayla.’ I replied, all thoughts of Simon, Kuàng and museum heists lost in a memory of a dark eyed girl, with olive skin an infectious smile and hips that moved with a hypnotic sway that transfixed a man’s gaze rendering him naught but a child in her presence demanding her attention.

‘Ah Aleppo.’ we chorused happily, each taking another drag on the hookah and sunk further back onto the couch lost in a collective reverie.

As if placed there solely to ruin the mood Simon piped up, ‘Why are we here?’

Blackheart cast a glance at me, took the pipe from his mouth and stifling a sigh sat straighter. ‘Put the box down Simon. And take a smoke.’

If anything Simon held the box to his side even tighter and shook his head.

‘It’s okay,’ said Blackheart, ‘it will help you relax. And you are going to need to be relaxed if we are to save you from the Kuàng.’

‘Who?’ asked Simon.

For a moment a flicker of doubt crossed Blackheart’s eyes then he replied ‘The Chinaman.’

‘Oh’, said Simon, ‘Is that his name? He never actually said, ‘I was always told to just refer to him as Sir.’

Blackheart snorted, ‘Huh, old Kuàng putting on the airs and graces that simply do not befit him. Well we will put a stop to that. Simon I need you to trust me. You do trust me don’t you?’

‘Eeerrrrr……’

‘You do need to trust him, to trust us.’ I said, ‘We are your only chance of escaping Kuàng’s clutches.’

I could see a war raging in Simon’s head as he looked to us and no doubt imagined what would happen to him if Kuàng found out he may be plotting against him. I was about to say something, but Blackheart held up his hand and shook his head no, and waited as the Simon’s inner turmoil came to a head in a strained grimace, sweat sheened forehead and a shaky hand held the box out to Blackheart, who took it carefully and said ‘Thank you.’. Simon slumped back onto the sofa, grabbed the hookah pipe and took a long, hard drag upon it.

With a nod from Blackheart I opened the box and took a look inside, the Coils of the Anaconda stared back, exactly as Blackheart had predicted. Well that was it then, the game was well and truly on. Gently I re-closed the box and handed it back to Simon who took it surprised.

‘So,’ said Blackheart, ‘this is the plan…….’


Chapter 14 – Distractions.

Despite my misgivings, of which I had many, it was the night of the heist, where Blackheart would take centre stage, though hopefully without anyone noticing. However before Blackheart could literally drop into the action there was a distraction to be had.

In Coram’s Fields, a large open space, approximately half a mile to the north east of the British Museum, a party was in full swing, and was a veritable who’s who of the party set. In attendance were various toffs, minor aristos, good time girls, artists, play-writes, stars of the stage, and any number of hard partying bohemians, louche cads and ladies of easy virtue, I had even seen some of the notorious bright young things of the Bloomsbury set wending their way through the partying throng.

The genius of this party, organised by Blackheart and I, was no one knew it had been organised by Blackheart and I. In fact none of the guests had any idea of who was hosting this shindig. We had sent the invites out totally anonymous, not so much as hinting who was behind it, but promising the most exclusive hot ticket event of the summer. You may think no one would turn up, suspecting it to be a hoax, but by ensuring we dropped hints about the party, whenever we were in earshot of polite and not so polite company, the word had got around, so much so that it soon became the talk of London, and no one who was anyone wanted to be left out. Most who’d turned up had never been formally invited, but because no one knew who the hosts were, no one questioned anyone whether they should or should not be there. The turn out therefore was amazing, and we had made sure those working the doors, not that there was a door as such, more a make shift barrier, with a couple of very exotic ladies dressed as croupiers, a couple of very large, very tough men acting as doorman and one very well turned out gentleman to act as greeters, that they were not to turn anyone away, unless obviously criminal and there to cause mischief.

Moving through the crowd I allowed myself a self satisfied smile, the idea of throwing the party may have been Blackheart’s but the execution had been all mine. Maybe this is why Blackheart and I worked well together. Blackheart was flair, imagination and derring do, whereas I was pragmatism, organisation and detail, and if there was one thing we both excelled at it was throwing a party. Blackheart had the network to bring the party faithful, and understood the subtle touches it took to turn a mere party into an unmissable extravaganza, whereas I had the network of contacts that provided the services required to run such a party, the caterers, security, the people to ask to get permission to hold the event in unconventional places, and most important of all the impresarios that could provide acts of an exciting and exotic nature.

Tonight my connections had born particularly excellent fruit as we had Bert Ralton’s Havana Band, the famous house band of the Savoy, playing for us. This was some coup, helped in no small part by ensuring the Savoy’s owner, Rupert D’Oyly Carte, was on the guest list.

The champagne flowed, the flappers dazzled, the young gents cut an elegant dash, the food was light and cheeky, conversation buzzed, bounders flirted, ladies seduced and young debs hunted in packs looking for rich suitors, yes the night was alive with fun and frolics.

For my own part, I was mingling, making sure I was seen by many, joked with some, flirted outrageously with others, chewed the fat with the serious, and made damn sure I was always seen with a glass in my hand, laughing loudly. What I wasn’t was getting drunk, tonight I needed to remain sober. All was going well when a crystalline female voice cut across the hubbub behind me ‘Raif? Raif is that you?’ I turned to find myself face to face with Miss Ivy Pettigrew. Although her face was a little flushed, she looked radiant, her smile was bright and her eyes blazed with excitement and I was instantly captivated.

‘Miss Pettigrew,’ I smiled, ‘How delightful to see you.’

‘Oh please, none of that Miss Pettigrew proprietary tonight, this is a party, call me Ivy.’

‘Whatever would your mother say.’ I grinned playfully.

‘Brazen hussy would feature I’m sure.’ she looked demurely out from under thick lashes.

‘Really, well I would very much like to meet that Ivy.’

Ivy breathed in heavily, holding her hands to her chest in mock outrage, ‘I say, how terribly caddish.’

‘Aren’t I just. Now it seems you currently are without a drink, let’s remedy that for you.’

‘Why sir are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘Would it help if I did?’

‘Let’s see shall we.’ Ivy took my arm, pressed herself against me. Her warmth sent a thrill through me and for a moment I almost forgot myself and why I was here. Bemoaning my need to remain focussed on my job, I led Ivy into the crowd, flirting as I went, to find her another drink. I needed to stay on my game and not simply devote myself to Miss Pettigrew.

For the next hour we danced, till we were both breathless and Ivy pleaded with me to find a seat. Ever the gent I led her from the makeshift dance floor to a quieter area set aside from the main party, to allow those who would prefer to engage in more intimate pastimes. Little did the guests know but I had security posted at a point between the quiet area and the party’s heart who were instructed to turn away anyone that looked like they were snooping rather than there to indulge. While the party faithful existed on a diet of alcohol and gossip, a degree of discretion was still expected when required.

With a bottle of champagne and two glasses I led Ivy to a quiet spot, where we were able to sit upon a previously placed picnic blanket. I poured us out a drink each, and with a chink of glasses we took a sip, at no point taking our eyes from each other. I could feel my pulse racing, and not for what was about to go down tonight, and rather boldly I placed my free hand around her back and pulled Ivy to me. My advances were met by willing lips and we fell into each other. After what would be considered an indecent amount of time we pulled apart, my breath ragged, I gazed at Ivy, her chest heaving as though she’d just run a race, bit her bottom lip playfully, her hair, lightly curled, rippled gently in the night’s breeze, and it was all I could do to keep my hands off her, yet off her I must.

I took a steadying breath and with an apologetic smile, made my excuses and stood, stating I needed to visit the little boys room, but that I would be back.

‘I’ll be here.’ she smiled demurely, ‘Don’t be long, anything could happen to an unattended girl at a party like this.’

‘Have no fear, I shall return forthwith.’ I assured her. Leaving her to sprawl languidly upon the picnic blanket, I headed back towards the bright lights of the party proper.

Once back among the throng I checked my watch, I had just under an hour and a half to go until I needed to make sure the party’s grand finale went off at the right moment. Obviously I couldn’t leave Ivy alone for that long, but I also knew once the time came I would have to leave her for the rest of the night, and try explaining that away. So with a heavy heart I sought out Bertie Hesketh, a well known roisterer and purveyor of recreational drugs. Never one to turn up at any sort of social gathering without enough medication to dose an infantry platoon, if anyone was to have what I needed it was he. Luckily as well as being an ardent self medicater he was also an outrageous flirt and I knew he would be wherever the girls were collected in their thickest. As expected I found him near the band on the outskirts of the dance area, trying his luck, with what looked to be at least six dancing girls. Normally when holding court with a gaggle of girls the last thing he would want is another man entering his space and challenging his place as the most desirable male, because, as charming as he could be, Bertie had not been blessed with looks or physical prowess. With not much in the way of hair, an ever widening midriff he was not always a ladies first choice if physically more impressive specimen was to hove into view, even despite his wealth and outgoing attitude.

Luckily for me as I approached I could already see that the girls were losing interest in him, not least of all because I knew they were part of the hired entertainment. They were there to dance, circulate and flirt with as many men as possible, and not allow themselves to be monopolised by any one man. I slipped in behind another girl that had managed to maintain a separation from the gaggle and placing my hand about her waist whispered in her ear ‘Cheryl, I will tip you an extra pound if you keep Bertie over there happy for the rest of the night.’

The girl Cheryl, a pretty and slender red head, with legs to die for, looked at me as if I had promised her the moon, ‘Really, a pound?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then what you waiting for take me to him.’ she beamed.

I took a pound from my wallet and handed it to Cheryl who took it, folded it and stuffed it into her bra top. Transaction complete I offered her my arm, which she took, and we cut a way through the dancing girls, who on seeing me arrive with Cheryl took the chance to make their excuses and slip away from Bertie’s grasp.

‘Bloodyhell Raif, are you deliberately trying to ruin a chap’s night.’ he growled disconsolately.

‘Now, now Bertie, no need to be like that.’ I brushed aside his displeasure, ‘Those girls weren’t interested.’

‘And how would you know?’

‘The fact they are no longer here speaks volumes, but forget them, instead let me introduce you to my friend here.’

As if noticing her for the first time Bertie’s eyes lit up, ‘Well hello, and who is this delightful creature?’

‘Bertie, Cheryl. Cheryl may I introduce you to my good friend Bertie Hesketh a more warm and giving man you couldn’t hope to meet.’, to which Bertie eyed me suspiciously, but before he could query my motives Cheryl placed a hand upon Bertie’s forearm, giggling leant in and whispered I know not what into his ear, but whatever it was Bertie’s face split into a wide grin.

‘She a friend of yours Raif?’

‘She is, and was struggling to find a man who could show her a proper party and I told her I knew just the man. But I couldn’t find him so I brought her to meet you.’ I joshed.

‘Hahaha, well his loss,’ Bertie retorted happily.

‘Enjoy the night you two.’ I said and made to turn away, fingers crossed in my pocket that Bertie would reciprocate.

‘Now hold on old boy,’ he said, and inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief, ‘it wouldn’t do for me to not show my appreciation at introducing me to such a fine filly,’ I swore he licked his lips, but if she mind Cheryl didn’t show it, ‘Is there anything I could do for you to show my appreciation for introducing me to your friend here?’

‘Well,’ I said turning back to face him, ‘I have another friend who is feeling a little tense and something to help us both relax, should you have anything like that, would be most welcome.’

‘Dear boy, when have you ever known me not have something to take the edge of.’ Bertie reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. He gently tipped out a few tablets into his palm and handed them to me. ‘You and your friend take one each with a liberal helping of champers and you will both be so relaxed you won’t care who or what is around you.’

‘You sir are a gent.’ I replied graciously, pocketing the tablets, ‘Well I won’t keep you two any longer, have fun.’ and with a nonchalant wave and a nod in Cheryl’s direction I drifted away, taking just one last look back to see Cheryl draped around Bertie giving him her undivided attention. Good girl, I thought, that was a pound well spent.

I made my way back to Ivy, picking up a second bottle of champagne on my way, ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I began before Ivy could complain about what must have seemed a lack of urgency in my returning to her, ‘I got sidelined a couple of times on my way back to you, ye gods Bertie Hesketh can talk. Still I’m back now and with more bubbly to hopefully make up for keeping a lady waiting.’

‘This lady very nearly walked.’ she responded huffily.

‘And I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.’ I conceded sincerely. ‘How can I make it up to you?’

‘Well you can pour more of that champers out for starters.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ I popped the cork and poured out two generous flutes, slipping one of the pills from Bertie into Ivy’s drink.

‘Bottoms up.’

‘Bottoms up’ she replied, chinked my glass and downed her drink.

‘Damn, I like a girl who can drink.’

‘And whys that?’

‘It makes it so damned easier to get them drunk.’

‘Cheeky.’ she laughed as I poured out another for her, hoping she didn’t notice that I was barely sipping mine.

‘If I hadn’t come back in-time, what would you have done?’

‘Well if I couldn’t find a nice gentleman to have rescued me from being so rudely stood up, I suppose I would have had to track down Bonbon.’

‘Bonbon?’

‘Bonny.’

‘Oh, I see.’ I said parking that snippet of information for later. ‘Did you come together?’ I asked innocently.

‘We did. I’m staying at Bonny’s place tonight.’

‘And where is Miss Harrington now?’

‘Why, worried she might turn up and play gooseberry?’

‘The thought never crossed my mind.’

‘No need to worry, if I know Bonbon she’ll be cutting a rug with…….’

‘With?’ I asked as I watched Ivy’s eyes momentarily glaze over, before with a little shake of her head she came back to the present.

‘Sorry, what was I saying?’

‘You was saying if you know Bonbon?’

‘Ah, yes…I say I think I am feeling a little squiffy…yes, er, Bonbon, she’ll be cutting a rug on the dance floor with any man daft enough to pass by her who looks unattended.’

‘Well then she’ll have partners galore and won’t be bothering us.’ I replied smoothly and moved forward and gave her a kiss that she responded to, before pushing away fanning her face.

‘Woooo I do declare I’m a little flushed.’

‘More champagne, it will help cool you down.’ I lied.

‘Oooo yes please.’

I topped up Ivy’s glass and for the next quarter of an hour I kept plying her with drink, flirted and generally kept her off balance waiting for the drug to properly kick in and knock her out. I was starting to get to the point where I thought I would have to slip her the second tablet, which I was loathe to do, when she declared she just needed a moment, lay down upon the blanket and promptly passed out.

Finally, I thought, and took out my watch to check the time. Damn I only had about fifteen minutes free before my most important job began. I got up and quickly went to find one of the men hired as security. I wasted almost five minutes in finding one, who I directed to watch over Ivy and whoa betide him should any mischief befall her, before I returned.

Confident Ivy was safe for now I slipped away from the party and made my way into the darkness heading for a pinprick of light at the far end of Coram’s Fields, where I acquainted myself with an old army sapper mate of mine who now ran a specialist firework display company.

‘Everything ready,’ I asked.

‘It is.’

‘And you know what order to fire them in?’

‘Yes, just waiting your command as requested.’

‘Okay, let’s do it.’

‘Take this, you’ll need it, and go to that cylinder over there.’ he said passing me a torch.

I went to the place indicated. There in the ground some fifteen feet away was a large cylinder with a firework rocket within. At my feet a box with an explosives firing plunger. Twenty feet adjacent to me my mate went to a similar box and plunger. I strained my ears, trying to block out the noise of the party at the other end of the fields to listen for a drone in the sky, while keeping a firm eye upon my watch. The hand ticked around slowly and I could hear nothing coming out of the night sky, no matter how hard I wished to hear something. In the end I gave up and set myself to watching the clock, finally the hand ticked around and with twenty seconds to midnight I flashed my torch and received an acknowledging flash, then when the second hand hit midnight I twisted the firing mechanism and depressed the plunger. Two rockets hissed into the sky and exploded, one red flare and one green, bathing the ground in their eerie light, then another second after that, a further fifteen feet away the next two rockets did the same, then the next two, and the next two after that until finally the night sky light up an a shower of noise and light as the main firework display erupted.

As I stood back watching the display I could only hope that somewhere above us Blackheart was approaching.


Chapter 15 – Early morning, late afternoon.

As I watched the fireworks lighting up the London sky, I could only wonder how Blackheart was fairing. It would be much later after a very long night that I would find out. Before we get to that though, while the party still raged, I tracked down Bonny, persuading her that Ivy had imbibed one too many glasses of Champagne, and took her to retrieve her friend.

Feeling less than stella having been the cause of Ivy’s physical distress, I apologised profusely to Bonny claiming I hadn’t realised Ivy was becoming as inebriated as she was and that I should have taken more care and slowed her intake, but Bonny brushed off my apology stating Ivy was a grown woman and was quite capable of regulating her drinking herself. In-fact she should count herself lucky she had been with a gentleman such as I and not with some of the bounders who would have surely taken advantage of her.

Taking the compliment graciously, but inside feeling a total fraud, I helped get her a taxi to take the pair of them home. I offered to escort them home but luckily, as that would have seriously impeded my role in supporting Blackheart, Bonny turned me down saying she would be fine getting Ivy back to her place and would rather spare Ivy the shame she would feel the next morning if she thought the last image, I would have of her would be lolling about a taxi in a drunken stupor.

With Ivy and Bonny out of the way I got back to seeing to the party. It carried on for a further two hours, before finally winding down. As the final guests streamed away, I ensured the staff had their instructions for the clean-up, then made myself scarce. Most of the equipment, tables, chairs, stage, food, drink etc. had been brought in by an army of vans. In-fact army of vans was quite an apt description. Post the war a lot of the old ambulances used on the western front had become surplus to the army’s needs and been sold off, so there had been a glut of the vehicles available to the wily entrepreneur who recognised the opportunity they provided. Luckily Blackheart and I knew one such person, which meant I was now in possession of one of their vehicles for the night. Blending in with those owned by the companies that had brought all the paraphernalia required for the party, no one paid any attention to it. With those about me more concerned with doing their own jobs so they could finally get home, no one took any notice as I climbed in the back of the van, closing the door behind me. Inside I lit a small oil lamp and changed out of my tuxedo and into a baker’s outfit stored within. Suitably attired no one gave me a second glance as I clambered out of the back and went around to the front to start the van, before climbing behind the wheel and pulling away driving off into the night.

The London roads were quiet to the point of dead. I didn’t pass a single vehicle as I made my way to a darkened street behind one of the larger hotels, maybe a quarter of a mile from the British Museum. It was now three in the morning, and with nothing left to do I waited. I pulled my cap down over my eyes, hunkered down in my seat and rested, looking to any passer by as nothing more than a driver early for my delivery waiting for the hotel staff to appear and relieve me of my wares.

I must have dozed off as I was startled awake by a sharp rap on the side of the van and the feel of a thunk as the rear door was pulled closed. I climbed back out of the cab went once more to the front and cranked the starting handle. The van shuddered into life. Climbing back into the driver’s seat I set off and chugged away from central London, heading west towards Ealing. Although the sky was lightening, dawn had not yet broken by the time I pulled up into a delivery bay at Ealing Broadway station. I thumped twice on the wooden panel behind my seat I waited for a moment, felt the van rock slightly upon its springs felt the van door shut a final time, and heard a solid thump on the van’s side, without bothering to look I put the van in gear and reversed away from the bay and continued my journey west towards Maidenhead.

By the time I rolled up the lengthy drive of Blackheart’s Aunt Margaret’s place dawn had well and truly broken, though the only people I passed were other workmen doing their early morning deliveries, bakers, milkmen, coal merchants and the like, most still transporting their loads via horse and cart, the mechanised van still not having pushed the traditional forms of transport out of its pre-eminent position.

I shut the van down and climbed down stiffly, moving around to the back. I took off my baker’s costume, opened the back, took out my tux and re-dressed. Inside the van, as well as my now discarded baker’s uniform was a large bag, inside of which was some clothing, all black, a rope, a grapple, and a bag of tools that that ranged from something that looked like a fine metal toothpick up to a very substantial crowbar.

I closed the bag and was about to throw it over my shoulder when the sound of the barn door, that doubled as a garage, towards the rear of the building creaked as it opened. I turned sharply, ready to dart into the barn’s shadow when a sharp voice called out ‘Herr Mortis is that you?’

I breathed a sigh of relief and replied ‘Yes Mrs Heller, it is I.’

Striding into the barn proper I found myself looking at the sharp chiselled features of Mrs Heller, Lady Margaret’s housekeeper, confident, friend and couldn’t be more opposite in manner and personality to Lady Margaret if she tried. Whereas Margaret was a ball of chaotic energy and as improper as it was for a lady to be, Mrs Heller was all cold efficiency, with a stern demeanour and n-er a hair out of place and never a suggestion that she even knew what the word impropriety meant let alone ever succumbed to such things. As if that wasn’t enough, the fact she also happened to be German rather set her apart, especially in a country where the wounds of the last war fought against Germany were still incredibly raw. How Mrs Heller and Lady Margaret came into each other’s sphere was still somewhat of a mystery, but now was not a time for such musings.

‘Leave the bag Herr Mortis, I will deal with all of that.’

‘Are you sure Mrs Heller, I don’t mind….’

‘Nein, you are to get breakfast and sleep. Herr Blackheart’s orders. He instructed me to ensure you were properly rested ready for what is to come.’

‘But the van?’ I protested, but Mrs Heller was having nothing of it, stepping forward she took the bag from me and swung it over her shoulder as though it was nothing.

‘Breakfast and bed Herr Mortis, the van will be taken care of.’

‘Yes Mrs Heller. Good morning to you Mrs Heller.’

‘Guten Morgen Herr Mortis.’ She replied and I swear for a moment a ghost of a smile flickered upon her lips, but maybe a lack of sleep was playing games with my mind. With a casual wave I left Mrs Heller and the van behind and made my way to the kitchen. Inside the smell of fresh baked bread assailed my nostrils and instantly my stomach rumbled, and I realised just how hungry I was. Janice the cook was stood at the range preparing a pot of tea.

‘Morning Mr Mortis, you look….’

‘Go on say it Janice.’

‘…dreadful. Have you been burning the candle at both ends and, in the middle, again? Why if those rings under your eyes get any bigger, I swear I could hang a curtain from them.’

‘Thank you, Janice, for your kind words, what ever would I do without you.’ I smiled wanly at Janice. A no nonsense local girl who made a mean pie and a killer stew. 

‘One day you might just listen to me then you wouldn’t end up in such a state.’ Janice berated me, a stern glare adding weight to her words.

‘Maybe you’re right.’ I agreed.

‘Well, I hope she was worth it.’

‘What, who?’

‘Whoever left that lipstick smear upon your collar sir.’

‘What,’ I said aghast straining my eyes down to try and see whatever it was that giving my time with Ivy away.

‘Take your jacket off sir, I’ll sort it out for you.’

‘No, really, I couldn’t.’

‘Give.’ She demanded, one hand upon her hip, the other held out, fingers indicating I should give her the jacket now.

Sighing at crumbling before yet another woman’s instruction I took off my jacket and handed it over.

‘Now sir, there is toast on the rack and tea in the pot. Get some inside you then off to bed.’

‘Have you been talking to Mrs Heller?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Never you mind. Now away with you, I can’t be standing around here all-day gabbing like a fish wife.’

With Janice marching orders ringing in my ears, I grabbed two slices of toast, a plate, a pot of jam, poured my self a cup of tea, dropped in two sugars and a dash of milk and wearily headed for my room. After I finished the impromptu breakfast, I crashed out on my bed to let sleep take me. 

When I woke the sun was well past the midpoint of the day. I began to get myself together, washed, shaved and dressed. I noticed that my breakfast things had been cleaned away, testifying to the depth of my sleep and the ability of the staff to move soundlessly about the place.

I was just on my way down the stairs when there was a heavy knocking upon the door. Appearing from a side room, patting down her apron the maid Molly got to the door, took a last second to straighten her headband then opened the door. I paused on the stair waiting to see what transpired, which was for Molly to step back pulling the door wide and letting two men step inside. One was the local Bobby Hanson, the other a middle-aged man, slightly portly, with large hands a thick greying moustache, a world-weary air about him and without having to ever be introduced I knew he was a policeman. Maybe it was the weather-beaten mac he wore, the worn-down heels of his scuffed shoes or the battered fedora upon his head, everything about him screamed police.

I watched Molly disappear inside no doubt to fetch Lady Margaret and so decided to continue my way down the stairs and into the hall where Hanson and the mystery copper waited.

‘Afternoon Hanson.’ I said, ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘Mr Mortis,’ Hanson removed his helmet, cradling it in his left arm, ‘this is…’

‘Detective Sergeant Hawkes.’ the detective answered curtly, talking over Hanson.

Now I was down on the same level as the detective I could see he was tall, broad shouldered and although he had run to fat around the waist there was no mistaking there was still some physical power there. ‘And you are?’ he asked removing his hat to reveal a balding pate with a greying unkept thatch around the side of his head.

‘Raif Mortis.’ I answered.

Before the detective or I had chance to engage any further Mrs Heller appeared with Molly in tow, ‘That will be all Molly, Gentlemen if you will follow me.’ Mrs Heller said, though it was clear it was an order not an invitation, she turned on her heel and headed back from whence she’d came.

‘Well, it seems you are in good hands now,’ I said, ‘I shall bid you good day.’ And was just about to follow Molly towards the kitchen, I was still ravenous, when the detective said, ‘Actually I may have some questions for you Mr Mortis. Please join us.’, with a shrug I followed along as Mrs Heller led the small party to the lounge.

Sat on a chair in the bay window Lady Margaret put down the book she was reading, rested her glasses upon the edge of her nose and looking over the top of them acknowledged the detective sergeant with a nod then ignored him totally to smile at Hanson and asked after his mother. This conversation must have gone on for more than five minutes, when still standing and clearly irked the detective snapped ‘That’s enough if you don’t mind. We are here on official police business.’

‘Well, I would hardly expect you to turn up to a lady’s door on unofficial police business sergeant.’ Lady Margaret quipped, and I had to stifle a smile at her only referring to him as sergeant and not detective.

The detective harrumphed but was not to be put off, ‘Lady De Lacy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know the whereabouts of your nephew Lord Blackheart?’


Chapter 16 – Questioning

Detective Sergeant Hawkes fixed me with a piercing stare, ‘And you don’t know where Lord Blackheart is?’

‘If you mean as of right now, no, I have no idea.’ I replied glibly.

Hawkes noted something in his notebook, taking a moment to frame his next question, ‘Did he not say where he was going?’

‘Bristol.’

‘Bristol?’

‘Yes Bristol. He had some business to attend to.’

‘And what business was that?’

‘Really couldn’t say. You would have to ask him.’

‘And I would were he here, but as he is not, I shall have to continue with you. So, where were you yesterday Mr Mortis?’

‘Any particular time yesterday?’

‘Yesterday evening.’

‘Why yes, I was at the summer ball at Coram’s fields in London.’

‘Can anyone confirm that?’

‘I should say so. How many names would you like?’

‘One will do for now Sir.’

‘Only one, that hardly seems enough. Tell you what I’ll give you a list.’ I smiled benignly and reeled off about ten names, all notable individuals, who I knew could vouch for my presence at the party. I almost detected a scowl cross the detectives face, but if I’d upset him, he wasn’t saying. He then gave up his questioning of me and turned his attention back to Lady Margaret.

‘When your nephew does finally show himself, please have him contact me at this number.’ He handed Lady Margaret a card.

‘Of course, Sergeant, may I inform him of what it is in relation to?’

‘A matter of grave importance.’

‘Very well Sergeant I will pass on your rather cryptic message, though if you can’t be more specific, I cannot vouch for how serious he may take your invite.’

‘I strongly urge you to impress upon him the importance of contacting me so I can eliminate him from my investigations.’

‘Now why didn’t you say so before. You see Sergeant that adds a degree of weight to your summons that simply wasn’t there before. I have often found that being direct saves so much time in the long run. Maybe you should consider that the next time you are trying to be so arch.’

‘I assure you madam I was not being arch.’

‘Then if not arch, glib. It really doesn’t serve anyone to be vague.’ Lady Margaret admonished Hawkes who took the telling off with a pained sigh, ‘If you say so madam.’

‘I most certainly do. Why my uncle Bertie would still be alive today if that fool Raglan had been clearer with his orders instead of sending my uncle and his brave comrades headlong into Russian guns, and all for the sake of clarity.’

‘Er, well, yes,’ the Sergeant really didn’t know where to go with a statement like that so reverted to type, ‘unless you have anything else I will show you out.’ And without waiting for the Sergeant to protest Margaret practically ushered the Sergeant and Hanson out of the lounge through the hall to the front door, at which Mrs Heller had miraculously appeared, opening the door for the policemen to exit by, not so much as a flicker of emotion upon her face.

As they stepped out Lady Margaret couldn’t resist one last moment, ‘Oh Hanson and be a darling and remind your mother I will be collecting for the summer fete in the next couple of weeks.’

‘Of course, Lady De Lacy.’ Hanson replied deferentially.

‘Now none of that Lady nonsense with me young Hanson, I’ve known you since you were in shorts. It’s just Margaret to you.’

Hanson had the decency to look embarrassed and with a cough and a furtive glance to the detective implored ‘But Mi Lady I’m on duty.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry of course. How silly of me. Very well, but when you are out of that uniform remember its Margaret.’

I had to admire Lady Margaret by this seemingly innocent side conversation she was making it perfectly clear where she held the Detective in the hierarchy of who she deemed worthy or not. I was just about stifling a smirk as he turned away huffily when suddenly Janice drove by in the van I had placed in the barn earlier. As if sensing a moment, the Detective turned back slowly to face us.

‘That van.’

‘And what of it?’

‘Isn’t it a little late for a Baker to be delivering to you now?’

‘Not that my delivery orders are any concern of yours, but it is no longer a baker’s van.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No, it’s my van. Which is why my cook was driving it.’

‘Your van?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how did you come by it?’

‘I brought it from the baker, really Sergeant I don’t see what all the fuss is over a van.’

‘Only that a van was…., well never mind what a van was. Please answer my questions Lady Margaret, why do you have a van?’ there was almost glee in the Sergeant’s voice.

‘Because I drove one in France?’

‘France?’

‘Yes France, though over there it was an ambulance.’

‘You were there during the War?’ the detective asked, his tone changed to one of grudging respect.

‘Yes, well one must do one’s bit, and I didn’t think sitting here knitting socks was a suitable enough bit for one as I. Did you serve Detective?’

The use of his more senior title did not go unnoticed, ‘The Duke of Cambridge’s Own Middlesex Regiment.’ He replied proudly, his chest puffed out slightly.

‘Then Detective there is every chance I have had some of your comrades in the back of my ambulance.’

Hawkes regarded Lady Margaret with something akin to reverence ‘Then I dare say if you were at Flanders, you most likely saved some of my friends.’

‘I was, and sadly probably not enough of them.’

There was a monetary pause as both Lady Margaret and the Detective Sergeant shared a moment’s reflection.

‘May I ask why you want to have something that is such a reminder?’

‘For that very reason Detective, to be a reminder. I am having it re painted to resemble how it would have looked at the front, as it would have looked when I drove one, ready for this year’s memorial. Lest anyone forgets Detective, lest anyone forgets.’

‘Is it wise to let your female staff drive it?’

‘Sergeant,’ suddenly the frost returned to Margaret’s voice, ‘If you men decide to start another war who do you think you will need to drive the ambulances again?’

‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’ The Sergeant seemed to sense he’d crossed a line, but Lady Margaret wasn’t going to let him off lightly.

‘I make sure all of my girls can drive, because once you lot all march off to get yourselves killed, at least then there will still be someone keeping the country going, driving the delivery vans, getting goods to market, hospital supplies to the ports, stores to the troops at the front, ambulances to bring your shattered bodies back so you can be given a Christian burial. Remember Sergeant that once us women folk have cried until we have no more tears to give, we will get up, brush ourselves down and get back to work, and yes for some that means driving.’

The Detective withered under the icy fury of Lady Margaret’s words, ‘My apologies I meant nothing by it.’

‘I should think not.’

‘I guess I’m still not used to seeing women doing a man’s job.’

‘Well, you better had as the genie has been let out of the bottle, and once out its nigh on impossible to put back. I, unlike the women who work for me, have finally be granted the right to vote, but don’t think the suffrage movement is going away anytime soon. Those brave ladies will keep on marching and making their case till all women have the same voting rights as you men. And you watch, once we have that there will be no stopping us.’

The Detective stood caught between saying something and beating a hasty retreat, and one look at Lady Margaret, all bristling anger, hands on hips like some vengeful matriarch Detective Sergeant Hawkes decided retreat was the better part of valour and with a quick ‘Gooday’ and ‘Hanson’ turned and stomped down the drive away from the house.

‘Right,’ said Lady Margaret still bristling with righteous fury, ‘we’ll have no more of that nonsense today. Ingrid?’

‘Jawohl Margaret?’ Mrs Heller replied, all pretence of master and servant suddenly dropped.

‘I think a spot of tea on the terrace wouldn’t go amiss. Will you join me.’

‘Of course.’

‘And you, Raif, will you join us?’

I wasn’t sure if this was one of those moments I was being invited purely out of politeness and I was expected to reply in the negative, but then this was Lady Margaret and if she didn’t want me there, she’d have told me to bugger off, so, ‘Why thank you, I would be delighted.’

‘Good. Then after we’ve taken tea, you can tell me what you know of my damn fool nephew.’

I nodded graciously, ‘Please.’ I said gesturing for them to lead on, and lead they did. And for the rest of the afternoon, I regaled them with the tale of the previous nights action, still unaware of just how Blackheart had fared. Hopefully he would return to the household on the following day as planned, though only time would tell.


Chapter 17 – The Drop

Mid-afternoon, the day after the visit from Detective Sergeant Hawkes, Blackheart arrived back at Lady Margaret’s place as per the plan. In typical Blackheart fashioned he seemed nonplussed by the visitation from the Police.

‘We always knew they’d show up eventually.’

‘It was the very next day.’

‘The next day, the day after, it really doesn’t matter,’ he replied flippantly, ‘Kuàng was always going to tip off the law the moment they’d realised the heist had taken place.’

I wasn’t feeling quite as confident as Blackheart, but I was determined to keep my doubts in check. Instead of worrying about what might be, I chose to focus on the next steps. ‘When do we move to the next stage?’ I asked.

‘Not yet Raif. We need to stoke the fires a little first. Auntie do you have the policeman’s card?’

‘Why yes dear, it’s on the mantlepiece.’

‘Then as a fine, upstanding law-abiding citizen,’ he winked cheekily at Molly, who was pouring out some tea, ‘I’d best answer the detective’s summons and give him a call.’

After he had made the call Blackheart set himself to regale us of the heist itself. Never one to shy away from an attentive audience, he assumed position by the large ornate fireplace, cigarette held casually in his right hand, elbow resting upon the mantle as I, Lady Margaret, Mrs Heller and the rest of the staff sat themselves down to listen to Blackheart’s exploits. He took a drag on his cigarette and with a faraway look in his eyes began.

‘The thing one forgets is just how cold it is once one leaves the shackles of the earth. Although at ground level it was a warm evening, by the time Farnaby got us up to around five thousand feet it was dashed cold. I soon lost the feeling in my fingers, and it did make me wonder if my hands would function when it came time to jump. The flight itself was uneventful. Farnaby took us north over Borehamwood, before heading west past Watford then following a gentle south westerly course to bring us over Slough where we picked up the Thames. By now we were flying in darkness, so the Thames provided a nice silver ribbon to track our way into London. I must say the old smoke looks rather spectacular from the air, especially at night with everything lit up.’

‘Did you see the fireworks?’ I asked, ‘I had listened for you but never heard the plane, so we just set them off at the allotted time and hoped you were near enough to sight them.’

‘Luckily, we did, and just as well. We must have been flying into a head wind as we were further away than we had anticipated, we had also drifted further south than intended, but your fireworks provided us the marker we required. Farnaby corrected our course and set us on a line towards the museum. He gently lost height, slowed our forward speed, and gave me a tap on my shoulder, which was my cue to leave the cockpit. I tell you what, clambering out onto that wing at night was terrifying. It did not matter I had practised it many times, in the dark it becomes a different challenge. I thought London’s lights would provide the illumination I needed to place my feet easily, but I had not realised the wing would become naught but a damned great shadow. As I swung my leg out and reached for the wing it was like stepping into a void, and all I could do was hope my foot would rest upon something solid. If nothing else, it gave me even more respect for Alcock and Brown’s flight across the Atlantic. It was hard enough for me to move frozen as I was after just a couple of hours, they were up there for over two days solid and in the frigid air above Atlantic. That is true courage and nothing short of miraculous.’ Blackheart paused to take another drag on his cigarette.

‘Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,’ said Lady Margaret, ‘but we’re not here to discuss Alcock and Brown we want to know about the jump.’

‘Ah yes the jump.’ Blackheart gave a nervous laugh, ‘I almost didn’t make it.’

‘How so?’ I asked.

‘I froze.’ Blackheart said with a momentary look of shame.

‘But you did jump, didn’t you?’

‘Eventually.’

‘Eventually?’

‘Yes, I am ashamed to say that on our first pass over the Museum my courage failed me, and I remained gripped firmly to the Wing’s strut. I simply couldn’t bring myself to let go.’

‘You, scared, never.’ I joshed, thinking this some ruse to build tension into his story, but something in the grimace that met my words suggested otherwise. Surprised at this frank admission of fear I asked, ‘So what happened?’

‘As I remained clutched to the wing, gripping it for all I was worth the dark bulk of the museum passed beneath us, I had never even noticed Farnaby’s signal to jump. I looked back towards the cockpit to see him turning back to look at me and point below. I think he had thought I had missed seeing it or something. Well, all I could do was nod and signal for him to go around again, to which he duly obliged. This time I stood a little straighter upon the wing, each hand grasping one of the upright wing struts. All the time the slip stream from the prop and the wind itself threatened to rip me from the aircraft, but I remained steadfast and this time I fixed my gaze firmly upon Farnaby.’

‘Oooo isn’t it exciting?’ said Molly, eyes aglow, fixed firmly upon Blackhearts stood there. I swear I could have stampeded a bull through the room at that point and she would not have dragged her eyes away from Blackheart. ‘Do go on, please’

‘Are you sure, I wouldn’t want to bore you all.’ Blackheart pretended modesty and self-depreciation, but I knew better, he was loving the adulation, especially from young Molly.

‘Please tell us more.’

‘Really?’

‘PLEASE!’

‘Oh, very well.’ He took on a more heroic posture, tapped out his cigarette, and fixed us all with a steely glare, ‘So there I was, hanging on, nothing but a thin piece of doped linen and wood between me and a few thousand feet to London below. I knew if I didn’t jump this time I never would, and we could not afford to circle a third time, someone would be sure to notice. Once again Farnaby brought us in, steady as a rock, barely a dip or roll as we went. I couldn’t really see much in front of me, as the ground ahead and below was obscured by the wing. Looking past the struts and bracing I fixed my gaze upon Farnaby. This time I saw his right hand held out of the cockpit, fiver fingers spread, then counted off as first he closed one finger, then two, three, four and then clenched his fist tight. My mark to jump.’

Blackheart paused, Molly squealed with excitement, I along with everyone else sat forward in our chairs hanging off his every word, ‘And?’ I prompted.

‘I let go and pushed backwards.’

All in the room gasped. Imagining for a moment what if must be like to simply throw oneself out into a night sky.

‘And there I was falling.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Were you frightened?’

‘No, I had gone beyond fear, it was,’ Blackheart paused, ‘exhilarating.’

I tried to imagine falling through the sky with the ground rushing up at me with impossible speed and exhilarating was not how I would have described such a thing, more likely as bloody terrifying. I realised that I had tuned out for a moment, though Blackheart hadn’t noticed and was continuing with his tale.

‘I counted to four and pulled the cord.’

‘Why four?’ asked Mrs Heller, always one for wanting to understand the mechanics of a thing rather than getting lost in the romanticism of a tale.

‘Ah, yes, well you can thank Farnaby for that. As well as a damn first-class pilot he is also a master at geometry. He did the math to determine how far and high from the museum I would need to jump given the speed he would be doing, and how long I would have to fall to land me upon its roof. Really quite a thing when one considers all the variables. We almost got it horribly wrong.

So, four seconds, pulled the cord and nothing happened, or so it seemed, then there was an almighty thump as the chute billowed, and the straps around my shoulders cracked taunt snapping me into the vertical as it caught the air. And there I was, drifting serenely down. What a rush, I do not think I have experienced anything quite so exciting and terrifying at the same time since going over the top, and I feared my heart would burst it was racing so fast. As it was, I did not have time to relax just yet as I could see the dark mass of the museum rushing up. For a moment I thought we had calculated wrong, and I was going to have fallen too far too soon and be dashed into the side of the museum, but as if by some miracle a sudden gust caught me and edged me over the museum’s parapet so that I landed on the roof, just.’

From within the room there was an almost audible sigh of relief.

‘Devlin dear you really are a first-class idiot and if I ever hear of you trying anything quite so ridiculous in the future, I shall personally hobble you. It will be for your own good.’

‘Yes aunty.’ Blackheart replied contrite.

‘Still, I am glad you made it.’

‘So am I, though landing proved to be the least of my worries.’

‘Really, how?’ I said, ‘You was down what possible harm could have come to you now.’

‘And before the jump I would have thought the same thing Raif, but what I did not factor in was an open chute and the swirling breeze that flows over the top of the museum, no doubt caused in part by the large open inner courtyard. Up top the air is a disturbed and angry beast that grabbed the chute and did it’s damnedest to drag me over the edge into the inner courtyard. Only the fact the chute box upon my back snagged something stopped me being pulled to my death.’

I struggled out of the straps, and then with no small effort hauled the chute box and the chute with all its straps back up to the roof. Couldn’t leave that on show or someone would soon spot it. I found a place to stow it. It should remain nicely hidden for a time. I can’t imagine anyone goes up top too often and by the time anyone does it will be a horribly worn and weathered item that will not be traceable back to me.’

‘You never cease to amaze me Devlin,’ I said, using his name with rare admiration, ‘such a feat would have killed most men. I do not know what pact you have made with the devil, as surely only he could bequeath such fortune upon you, but one day I fear that pact will be cashed in, and far earlier than you would like should you continue with such insane antics.’

‘The Devil, God, pure chance, I know not. However, I will happily give thanks to what or whoever was looking out for me that night for in truth I should have died many times over.’

‘Make sure you do.’ Said Lady Margaret sternly, ‘Now I do not know about you all, but all that excitement is making me peckish. What say we break for a spot of lunch before Devlin tells us anymore.’

I looked about the room and could see the disappointment in the eyes of Molly, but none dissented and so we broke for a time but would not get to hear the second half of Blackheart’s tale for before lunch was over, Detective Sergeant Hawkes would disturb us.


Chapter 18 – Drawn Lines.

Detective Sergeant Hawkes and constable Hanson were shown into the lounge by Mrs Heller. I am not sure what Hawkes expected from Blackheart once he had finally caught up with him, but I bet it wasn’t the chatty, dare I say it loquacious, Blackheart that he found.

‘Why aunty,’ he began before Hawkes could even begin to get a word in edgeways, ‘is this the police chappy you told me about.’

Lady Margaret sighed like a mother hearing the same story from her child for the umpteenth time, ‘You know full well it is.’

‘Yes, yes, I suppose I do. Well then….’ Blackheart paused for effect as he turned to face the exasperated looking policeman.

‘Hawkes Sir, Detective Sergeant Hawkes.’

‘A detective, eh? Well, what in the world could you want with the likes of me? No let me guess,’ he held up a finger to pause Hawkes before he could even begin to rattle off the reasons, ‘has that dreadful farmer Nasby been complaining about my car again. I swear me driving past will not turn his cow’s milk sour. Leaving it in their churns for days on end out in the sun though most definitely will. You tell Nasby I’ll be having none of his nonsense and he can refrain from blackening my good name. Tell him if he persists, I will see him in court. Right well I’m glad we cleared that up. I must say it does rather seem a waste of a detective’s talents to be worrying about some provincial farmer’s cows. Mind you he always was a slippery sod, I heard rumour he was a mason. You’re not a mason are you Sergeant…’ Blackheart paused again.

‘No Sir I am most certainly not, now if we could just get back to….’

‘Well, that’s a relief. I mean you do hear stories of you lot, sorry I mean masons looking out for one another, and not always legally I should say. I’m surprised they are allowed to be in the police really. If ever there was a chance for corruption that would be it.’

‘Mr Blackheart’

‘Lord.’

‘What?’

‘My title is Lord, not Mr. It’s a silly thing I know, and in these times as the last show demonstrated being a Lord is no sign of good upbringing, courage or the ability to do one’s duty any more than the lowliest commoner. But still, one has standards to uphold. The Empire depends upon it, what?’

Sat there watching I almost felt sorry for the Sergeant. He’d been torn off a strip by Lady Margaret last time and now here he was barely able to get a word in as Blackheart proceeded to talk the hind legs off a donkey. I swear he barely took a breath, so much so I was almost involuntarily trying to breathe for him.

‘Anyway, if you aren’t here to protect one of your own…’

‘No, I am not, I am…’

‘…then why the devil was you in such a rush for me to call you? Really if it’s not about the cows then I’m stumped.’

‘LORD Blackheart!’ Hawkes snapped.

‘Yes?’ Blackheart replied politely.

‘What do you know of the Coils of the Anaconda?’

‘Well, I know enough from my time abroad that you don’t want to find yourself caught within them. The damn thing will fair squeeze the life out of you. A rather unpleasant way to go.’

‘No, I don’t mean…’

‘Did you know they reckon, though I am never quite sure who the ‘they’ are when they say they in stories like this, but they, apparently, believe that when a victim gets squeezed by an Anaconda, the pressure it exerts causes said victim to suffer a massive heart attack long before the bones really crack and break. By all accounts the heart just completely ruptures. Dashed painful I’m sure.’

‘ENOUGH!’ shouted Hawkes, ‘Pray god enough.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry did you have something you wished to say?’

Hawkes glared at Blackheart with ill-concealed contempt and said, ‘Perhaps I should start again?’

‘Or maybe just start, you do seem to beat around the bush. Why you’ve barely made sense since you got here, what with talk of masons and snakes, anyone would consider you a raving loon.’

Hawkes’ cheeks flushed dangerously as he held up his hand for silence. ‘Mr Mortis, as you are here, I shall start with you before I come back to you Lord Blackheart.’ he addressed me while staring darkly at Blackheart, ‘I am happy to confirm your alibi checks out Mr Mortis.’

‘Alibi?’ I wasn’t aware I required an alibi.’ I blinked feigning shock.

‘Just removing you from my persons of interest Mr Mortis.’

‘Now hang on there just a minute,’ I said all indignant, ‘person of interest for what?’

‘You have read the papers have you not?’

‘Well, I have perused the sports pages obviously, but that’s as far as I got.’

‘You haven’t seen the headlines?’

‘I saw the headline, something about a missing Anaconda, but I didn’t pay it much heed.’

‘Not missing, stolen.’

‘And you are investigating that?’

‘Yes, as I said to Lord Blackheart, the Coils of the Anaconda has been stolen.’

‘And why on earth would you think I would have any desire for a snake?’

‘It isn’t a snake.’

‘The headline would suggest otherwise.’

‘No Mr Mortis, it is just called the Coils of the Anaconda,’ Hawkes huffed like a teacher trying to get a lesson across to a particularly dim child, ‘and it is a valuable item that has been stolen from the British Museum.’

‘Sounds more like it should be in a zoo.’ Said Blackheart.

‘It’s not a live snake. It’s a piece of very fine jewellery held in the British museum.’

‘And you think I had something to do with that?’ I asked.

‘I believed there was a chance you might have some knowledge of its theft. But it would seem you were otherwise engaged at the time.’

‘I was? And when was that exactly?’

‘Sometime in the early hours of June 23rd.’

‘Well not that I understand any of what you have just said, I mean do I look like the sort of man that steals jewellery? But I am glad you have been dissuaded from such a strange notion.’

‘In my experience Sir high end thieves seldom ever resemble thieves.’

‘Now that’s a back handed compliment if ever I heard one.’ I grinned.

‘But you are not the reason I am here.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No, it is to talk to you Lord Blackheart.’ Said Hawkes fixing Blackheart with a steely glare.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Now can you tell me where you were on the June 23rd.’

‘Bristol.’

‘And can someone corroborate that.’

‘Why, do I need an alibi also?’

‘It would certainly help your case.’

‘Oh, so now there is a case against me.’

‘If you cannot provide me with proof of your whereabouts, then yes, there is. Can you tell me where you were between the hours of 12 and 2?’

‘Ah so lunch time on the 23rd, then yes I was having dinner with…’

‘No, sorry I should have been clearer, between 12 and 2 at night.’

‘And can anyone vouch for that?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No, no one can vouch for me at that time.’

‘Are you sure there is no one who may have seen you around that time?’

‘No one I care to disclose.’

‘Really? And why is that?’

‘Because it would compromise a lady.’

‘And why would it do that?’

‘Because she’s a married lady.’

‘I see, I presume then not married to you.’

Blackheart merely smiled in response.

‘So, the one person who could corroborate your whereabouts at the time in question you won’t divulge.’

‘Certainly not, that would not be becoming of a gentleman.’

‘A Gentleman, that has no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife.’ Sergeant Hawkes replied, his disgust evident.

‘I never said I was a good gentleman.’

‘This may be your only chance to save your neck Lord Blackheart. Please give me the lady’s name.’

‘Under no circumstance.’

‘Does she mean more to you than your freedom.’

‘The scandal it would bring down upon a senior member of the Government and the potential international fallout, well I think my freedom would be but a small price to pay.’

‘What?’ Hawkes looked shocked.

‘Besides as I haven’t done whatever it is you think I have; I hardly think it relevant to my future liberty.’

‘I don’t think that is for you to decide.’

‘Really, well, have you any evidence that I have committed the crime of which you speak?’

‘That’s hardly…’

‘Are you charging me with any crime?’

‘Well, actually, again that’s not the…’

‘Either charge me or leave me be Sergeant, I have more important things to do that dilly dally here with you, however interesting that may be.’

‘If you do not provide me with the lady’s name, I cannot scratch you from my list of persons of interest. You do understand that while you sit on my list, I will be sticking my nose into every aspect of your life, every dealing, every meeting, dalliance, flirtation and liaison I will be there Sir, raking through every dark secret you may have. Is that really what you want?’

‘Be careful what you wish for Sergeant, some of my secrets are darker than any man should have to face.’ Blackheart warned coldly ‘Be sure you have the stomach for it before you start digging into me and my past.’

‘I think you will find I have more than the stomach for it, I will, relish it.’

‘You really are nothing but a cheap little voyeur, aren’t you?’ Blackheart sneered, ‘You should have said. If that’s how you get your kicks sergeant, I know some types who would welcome you with open arms.’

It was Hawkes turn to issue a warning and he left Blackheart in no uncertain terms he wasn’t to be put off, ‘Very well Lord Blackheart, if that’s how you want to play it, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I am about to become your shadow.’

‘I look forward to the scrutiny Detective Sergeant Hawkes,’ Blackheart grinned nastily, ‘prepare yourself for a whirlwind of boredom and disappointment. Now if there is nothing else, I have a book I had set aside some time for, so unless you plan to stand there and watch me read, I suggest you leave and go and try and track down your little bauble. Good day.’ Blackheart dismissed Hawkes, his tone conjuring a full aristocratic authority and disdain for having to deal with someone below him in the social hierarchy.

From my position watching this verbal sparring I couldn’t help but notice Hawkes’ bristle angrily at the put down. I had to admire his self-control in holding his tongue, where it was clear from the look on his face, he wanted nothing more than to beat Blackheart’s upbringing out of him with fists born of the peasantry. Instead, he gave a curt good day, turned on his heel and left, constable Hanson following closely. Given his reaction to Blackheart’s dismissal it did make me wonder if our policeman didn’t harbour some of the dangerous Bolshevik sensibilities currently ripping through Russia. But whatever his political leanings and views on his place in society, it was clear to me Blackheart had just made a dangerous enemy of Detective Sergeant Hawkes.


Chapter 19 – Temporary Pause.

“MUSEUM RANSACKED”

“BRITISH MUSEUM’S SHAME”

“RARE CHINESE ARTEFACT STOLEN”

“SECURITY GUARD MURDERED DURING CRIME OF THE DECADE”

The lurid headlines announced the theft of the Coils of the Anaconda to the public with all the expected fallout. Museum security was called into question, speculation of an inside job was rife. The head of the Museum resigned. The Trustees made put up a substantial reward for any information that resulted in the return of the Coils. Questions were raised in Parliament, asking how Britain could keep her great nation secure if she could not keep the treasures in her care safe? Anti-Chinese sentiment also surfaced, with many a fanciful theory expounding some Fu Man Chu like Chinese master criminal sending in black robed martial artists to scale walls unseen, flitting through the shadows intent on stealing back Chinese pride, ready to slit the throats of any unfortunate who got in their way. At least one report made claim at least four security guards had died from poison darts to the neck.

Blackheart and I read the headlines with interest, commenting on how close or far from the truth the speculators were. Each paper would claim it received its information from a trusted source, little did anyone know that some of those unnamed trusted sources were us.

Blackheart’s plan had been to keep the forces of law and order on their toes, constantly chasing their tails. So, before the heist we had taken it upon ourselves to pre-write a whole stack of false sightings, reports, and general misinformation, which, post heist, trusted accomplices posted to a pre-arranged schedule, keeping everyone guessing. Some things we claimed in our correspondence were so ridiculous, like the use of a tunnelling machine, an idea I plagiarised from Edgar Rice Burroughs ‘At the Earth’s Core,,’ as to be readily ignored, while other snippets held many truths, like how the lock was picked without leaving a single print.

The flooding of the national print with enough contradictory information had turned the theft into something of a latter-day Sherlock Holmes mystery, but without a resident Sherlock to come to the rescue we had muddied the waters sufficiently that it would be hard placed for anyone to pick out the true perpetrator. Anyone, that is, except Detective Sergeant Hawkes who, surprisingly, had concluded, rightly, that the culprit was none other than Lord Devlin Loquacious Blackheart, war hero, playboy, adventurer, and thief.

Since that initial meeting between the two, Hawkes had posted men, whom we assumed were meant to be plain clothes, to watch the house and tail Blackheart wherever he should go. Three days in and Lady Margaret had taken pity upon them and sent Molly out with tea and cake to the men waiting, board, outside for sight of Blackheart. Realising their cover was blown, they made their excuses and left, though not before finishing the tea and cake.

‘How long do you intend to remain cooped up in here?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t we be moving into the next phase?’

‘Alas I hadn’t planned for Hawkes constant scrutiny. Still not to worry, it adds a bit of spice to the proceedings.’ He smiled cheerfully.

‘You won’t be smiling if Simon breaks and lets anything slip.

‘He won’t.’

‘How can you be so sure? He was a nervous wreck before. How do you think he’ll be coping with the police scouring the museum for clues night and day?’

‘Because he can’t,’ said Blackheart confidently, ‘he’s in too deep. Remember if he wants to be free of Kuàng, he will have to play this through to the bitter end.’

‘And what of Kuàng? Won’t he be expecting you to contact him?’

‘I dare say.’

‘In which case shouldn’t we?’

‘Shouldn’t we what?’

‘Contact him.’

‘Oh, very well. You really are all business today Raif. Why not just sit back and enjoy the ride for a little while longer?’

‘Because I neither want to land in prison or take a bullet to the head from one of Kuàng’s goons.’

Blackheart took a moment, seemingly weighing up the benefits of doing nothing as opposed to acting. With a grimace that suggested having to think, let alone move, was of the most terrible inconvenience, Blackheart sat up from the deck chair he had been reclining upon in the garden, ‘Very well if we must act then so be it. Though you are proving to be a terrible kill joy Raif Mortis. Have I taught you nothing? The proper repose for a gentleman in summer is to sit idly, cursing the cricket scores, while contemplating what dreadful ball one must attend next, simply to keep one from being forgotten. Your working class need to be active continues to vex me.’ Blackheart finished huffily.

‘One day you may come to thank my work ethic.’

‘Hardly. But now you’ve roused me I guess we could move to phase three.’

‘About time.’

‘We will have to shake things about a bit. I will need you to take on some of the more perilous tasks while I lead my watchers on a bit of a merry go round.’

‘The police have gone. Molly taking them tea seems to have sent them away in shame.’

‘Perhaps those out front have gone, perhaps they haven’t. Even if they have there will be others, which is why I need to lead them away from here and you. Despite Hawkes claiming he believed you innocent I doubt he genuinely believes that. You can guarantee you’ll also be watched.’

‘Well obviously, so what do you suggest?’

‘I am not sure, give me a little while.’ He said and placing the newspaper over his yes laid back in his deckchair relaxing under the summer sun.

Shaking my head disappointed I picked up my book and opted to push the heist to the back of my mind. An hour later, and still upon the same page, nee the same paragraph, I had started an hour earlier I placed the book down and leaning across lifted the newspaper from Blackheart’s face.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I can’t sit here pretending we haven’t robbed the Coils. We need to move it before its discovered.’ I answered agitatedly.

‘How did you leave things with Ivy Pettigrew?’ Blackheart asked enigmatically.

‘What? Why?’

‘Have you spoken to her?’

‘Honestly, I haven’t been in contact since the night of the ball. I still feel beastly about drugging her.’

‘It was all for a bad cause old boy, perfectly reasonable behaviour for a cad and bounder such as yourself.’ Blackheart smirked.

‘That’s all well and good, normally, but….’ I tailed off, unable to voice the words that would betray how I felt.

‘My, my, you’ve really fallen for this one, haven’t you?’

‘What, me, no, whatever gives you that idea.’ My words tumbled out falling over one another in their haste to deny the truth.

Blackheart raised a sardonic eyebrow, and I could feel my cheeks burn, and began an almost pathological tirade expounding on my lack of feelings for Ivy, which Blackheart, damn him, cut me short with the timeless line “the lady doth protest too much methinks,” my embarrassment complete I shut up.

‘Luckily for you Miss Pettigrew doesn’t hold you responsible for anything that befell her that night. Rather she feels terribly embarrassed about having you see her like that.’

‘And how would you know what Ivy thinks about anything?’

‘Because my dear Raif, I happen to be friends with Miss Pettigrew’s best friend.’

‘Bonny.’

‘The very same,’ Blackheart smiled smugly.

‘So, what of it?’

‘So, you are going to call on Miss Pettigrew. And if she will receive you, which we both know damn well she will, you shall arrange to take her to the theatre.’

‘Oh, will I?’ I snapped feeling cornered, but at the same time I could feel my pulse beginning to race at the thought of spending time with Ivy once more, and without needing to drug her this time.

‘Don’t act so hard done by, we both know you want to.’

‘Why are you so interested in my love life suddenly?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Ah, yes, well, one shouldn’t overlook the chance to use an evening out on the town to our advantage, and you did say you wanted to get on with the job.’

‘Well, yes, obviously.’ I replied, suddenly a little unsure.

‘I can’t go anywhere without being watched,’ Blackheart stated the obvious, ‘you on the other hand, while being watched won’t be watched anywhere near as closely, especially if you have a pretty girl upon your arm.’

‘Are you so sure of that?’

‘Of course. You my friend will be nothing but overly attentive to your date. You will be the proper gentleman you pretend to be,’ I let the sly dig at my less than stellar breeding pass, ‘and will give those following you no reason to believe you are anything but the besotted fool you are.’

‘Alright, no need to make a big deal of it.’ I growled, tiring of Blackheart’s fun at my expense, ‘However I presume you want me to do something for you while I am entertaining.’

‘Very astute Raif. Yes, you will deliver a note to Kuàng.’

‘If you think I am putting Ivy in Kuàng’s sights you have another thing coming.’

‘As if I would do anything to put a lady in harm’s way.’ Blackheart rebuffed my concerns.

‘Really, what about Mademoiselle Durand, Elif Kaya, or how about Frau Lange.’

‘Yes, yes, maybe my best intentions are not always good enough,’ Blackheart had the decency to look chastised, ‘but you have to admit I never knowingly put a woman in harm’s way.’

‘I don’t know how you can sit there and make such a claim, have you forgotten Signorina Culpo?’

A black look darkened Blackheart’s usually cheery countenance at the mention of the Signorina, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Never mention that name to me again Raif.’

‘Sorry…’ I winced suddenly realising my mistake too late.

‘I will take the shame of that with me to my grave.’

‘Sorry old boy, I didn’t mean…’

Blackheart gave me a wounded look, ‘Let us not dwell on the past.’ He waved away my stuttering apology, ‘We have all done things we’re not…, anyway that’s not getting us anywhere. Trust me when I say what you will be required to do will not put Miss Pettigrew in any danger. The only danger I fear she may be in will be from your wandering hands.’ Blackheart smiled weakly, trying to hide the haunted look in his eyes with a forced brevity.

Kicking myself for bringing up Culpo I made an enfeebled laugh at Blackheart’s slight and for a moment the pair of us said nothing, caught in an uncomfortable silence when, thank the gods, Molly appeared carrying a tray.

‘Mrs Heller suggested you might require some refreshment Sirs.’ She said sweetly placing the tray with a fresh pot of tea, two cups and small jug of milk and a dish of sugar lumps down upon the table between us.

At that moment both Blackheart and I thanked our lucky stars for Mrs Heller and Molly, the spell broken we were able to put the Culpo incident behind us and move forward with Blackheart’s plan to contact Kuàng and enact the next part of the plan.


Chapter 20 – Ma Lè Kuàng.

I approached the Shaftesbury Theatre, accompanied by Ivy Pettigrew, with a momentary sense of trepidation. Somewhere within its red brick and stone walls, behind the row of massive Romano stone columns, was Blackheart’s contact. A man I needed to meet without raising any suspicions. Not only did I have to keep Ivy in the dark of my extracurricular activities, while keeping an outward appearance that this was, in-fact, a genuine date and nothing more sinister, but I also had to keep the plain clothes officers tailing us, at a distance, convinced of the same.

I smiled at Ivy, as much to settle my own nerves as to present an outward appearance of calm, and led Ivy to the ticket office, where after a short queue, retrieved our tickets for tonight’s showing of “Tons of Money”, one of the most popular comedic plays currently in production anywhere within London; and entered the Theatre proper. This at least removed the issue of the police, at least for now, as unless they were prepared to buy tickets, unlikely, they would be obvious should they enter, dressed as they were for walking the streets and not for a night on the town. I very much doubted they would each have a tuxedo ready to don at a moment’s notice. No, they were very much out of the picture for now. This did of course raise the question of how Blackheart’s contact would discern me from all the other tuxedo adorned gentlemen in the theatre that night. Deciding to put it out of my mind and trust to fate we made for the bar where, once I had bought us drinks, we retired to a quiet corner, and watched our fellow theatre goers as the bar steadily filled.

I couldn’t help but notice that Ivy received disapproving glances from some of the female patrons. For all my outward affectations as Raif Mortis, I am, when all said and done, in truth Ralph Butcher, and no member of the gentry. I could play a good game and blend in as needed, but the true toffs could always tell when one wasn’t really one of them, and Ivy was no different. While the war had done much to blur the class lines, it had not erased them. Normally I would have Blackheart as a shield and in Ivy’s case Bonny; but stripped of our benefactors we were both just dog fish in a sea of sharks, and the sharks were currently circling, wondering why we were not in one of the bars serving the seats more fitting of people of our station.

‘What are we like?’ Ivy laughed nervously. ‘Look at us pretending we belong.’ She said smoothing down her dress, which was a stylish, but simple affair, and clearly something that marked her out as not a lady of breeding.

‘We have as much right to be here as any of them.’ I said sweeping my arm disparagingly at our fellow theatre patrons. ‘We have brought our tickets, and if they don’t like it sod them. I didn’t fight to be told by anyone I don’t belong.’

Ivy gave my arm a squeeze and flashed her bright smile causing me to grin foolishly, ‘Shall we?’ I offered her my arm, which she took, and led her from the bar to our seats, where we got comfortable and waited for the show to start.

The show started and the first half rattled along at a breakneck speed, with the farce on stage becoming ever more frantic and funnier as it went. As the curtain fell for the interval I was beaming from ear to ear. So far no one had presented themselves as Blackheart’s contact and not knowing who I was looking for I decided to turn my attention to more earthly matters and excused myself from Ivy, made my way along the row to the aisle, where I turned towards the back of the stalls and the corridor behind where I would find the gentleman’s toilet. As I approached the corridor a pair of ladies glided across my path. I stepped to the side to let them pass, as they did so the nearest dropped her handkerchief, seemingly without noticing. I stooped, picking it up and in a couple of strides caught them up. With a polite cough I stopped them and proffered the dropped item, ‘Excuse me, I believe you dropped this.’

‘Thank you, but I think you’ll find it’s yours.’ The lady smiled.

‘I rather think, black lace is more your style.’ I tried to return it once more. She simply placed her hands around mine holding the offending item, pressing my fingers about it, and with a gracious smile said, ‘Keep it, I think you’ll find it most illuminating.’ She removed her hands and in a swish of silk drifted away from me. I stood, mid corridor, lost for words and a little confused. I opened my hand, letting the lace kerchief unfurl and for the first time noticed it had something embroidered upon it, one word that said Albemarle, more than that it held two ticket stubs within. I slipped the handkerchief into my pocket, separating out the stubs, which I placed in my wallet. Trust Blackheart’s contact to be a woman and not a man at all. You would have thought I would have learned by now. At least I now knew where the next place on the evening’s agenda was to take me.

Returning from my ablutions, I sat myself back down and in the short time before the lights dimmed and the curtain raised for the second half, I learned that Ivy was still feeling embarrassed about what she thought of as her drunken state at the summer ball. A little flustered she let slip she had expected never to see me again, fearing I must believe her to be a terrible lush, and what man in his right mind would wish to be associated with such a creature? Assuring her I didn’t think that of her for one second, which given I was speaking the heartfelt truth, my words must have carried the necessary amount of sincerity to settle her nerves and ease her guilt for she physically relaxed, and the sense of uptight nervousness that had afflicted her since I picked her up earlier in the evening eased.

The show ended, and I must say I heartly enjoyed it. I could see why it was such a hot ticket. Happily, Ivy had enjoyed it too and was laughing as she replayed scenes in her head as we left the theatre, where I hailed a cab, and just a short ride later, with Ivy still excited from the show, entered the Albemarle Club.

‘You never told me you were taking me to a club?’ said Ivy as we walked up to the maître de.

‘I’m sorry, I hope you don’t think me too presumptuous.’ I stammered my apology, suddenly conflicted by doubt wondering why she would want to go on anywhere with me post the show.

‘Don’t be silly, why on earth wouldn’t I?’

‘Well, I don’t know. Maybe now you’d spend some time with me you’d realise I was really nothing special and just want away.’

‘If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.’ She assured me with a smile. ‘Now are you going to stand there looking awkward or are we going inside?’ she teased.

With a surge of relief, I nodded and feeling myself blushing offered the tickets stubs to the maître de, who took them and with a practiced eye turned them over in his hand noticing the stamp upon their backs, smiled, wished us a good evening, and pulled aside the curtain to let us enter the inner sanctum of the Albemarle Club.

Inside, the main room, sat beneath a high vaulting roof, lined with marble pillars, with a raised stage set into an arched bay at the far end, upon which a four-piece played the latest dance music. Across the expansive dance floor, exquisitely turned-out couples danced the quickstep. On the other side of the pillars, tables were set where one could sit, talk, drink, take a pipe, all very civilised. The interior was bedecked with palm trees and other exotic plants to give the impression one was dancing in some far away corner of the Empire and not grimy old London.

Before we took to the dance floor, we first took seats at an intimate little table in a secluded alcove, a waiter took our drinks order, returning smartly with a whiskey for me and a wine for Ivy. I tipped the waiter generously, assuring he would keep a close eye upon us and provide a service to make Ivy feel special. I asked Ivy about what other clubs and parties she’d been to with Bonny, which as she began to regale me with tales of all the places she’d been, it allowed me, while appearing attentive to her story, to scan the club for anyone who may look like they had been expecting me. No stranger to dealings with shady customers it did not take me long to notice one of the cigarette girls looking my way clearly trying to catch my eye. I raised my hand, and she obligingly made her way over.

I requested a packet, to which she handed over one taken from the rear of the tray rather than the front as was normal, I smiled, paid, thanked her as she moved away to another table from where a couple of boisterous young chaps, a little worse for drink, had summoned her. It took a few more drinks before Ivy excused herself. She stood and gave me a coy peck on the cheek then skipped away across the floor, taking a moment to glance back at me with a smile before continuing upon her way. Finally, alone I was able to fully inspect the cigarette packet. Tucked inside the lid I found a slip of paper. Removing it I placed it near to the table lamp, it read “Table 7”. I flagged down our friendly waiter and asked him, which was table 7. He discreetly informed me of its location and asked if I needed an introduction. I thanked him but told him that would not be necessary, though I would like a couple more drinks, to which he nodded and went away to fetch them.

Ivy returned, the new drinks turned up, we chatted, we flirted, and before I got too distracted, and give me a chance to scout Table 7 I suggested we dance.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Ivy squealed with delight, taking my hand, practically dragging me to the dance floor.

Now I must admit I am not a natural dancer. Blackheart had once likened my movements to Frankenstein’s monster, so stiff and heavy footed was I. Luckily since then I had taken lessons and had many chances to practice so I could better fit in. I was still no gazelle skipping lightly across the floor, but I had at least fixed my deportment, got to grips with the timing and could now make at least a passable stab at the latest dances without my partner having to fear for her toes. Ivy by contrast positively floated across the dance floor, and I must admit was making me seem much more accomplished than I was.

As the first dance finished the band struck up into a foxtrot and off we went, bounding across the floor, flowing in and around the other dancers all moving to the call of the music. As we danced, I tried to catch a glimpse of Table 7, but each time we either had other dancers cut across my view, or we had to spin away before I could get a proper look. Finally, just as the dance was beginning to wind up, I caught sight of table 7. Three gentlemen, two clearly of oriental descent, and a third who had his back to the dance floor, plus three ladies, sat at the table. Of the ladies only one was oriental, the other two were clearly European, if not actually British.

Okay, I thought, I’m outnumbered, which was to be expected, no point rushing, I may as well enjoy myself for a bit. Not feeling inclined to rush I indulged Ivy’s desire to dance for two more numbers, another quickstep and thankfully a slower waltz, before leading her back to our table, sat her down, got yet more drinks then made my excuses leaving her sipping her wine, as I first went to the toilet before circling back via table 7.

As I approached, I paused, to allow the gentleman in the centre of the table to view and assess me. He said something to the ladies who giggled and left the table. Each filed past me, without paying me any attention, except for the oriental lady. She was short, slim, had long dark straight hair, adorned with a lotus flower, and gave me a cold hard stare, leaving me feeling like my card had been marked. I didn’t have time to dwell upon that for as soon as the ladies had gone the second oriental gentleman beckoned me forward indicating I should take a seat.

‘Good evening.’ I said, taking a moment to gauge each man at the table. The oriental gentleman in the centre was heavy set, his tuxedo failing to conceal his bulk beneath. His hair short, black, heavily greased down held no hint of grey, neither did his well-manicured moustache and beard. His eyes were shrewd, and I could tell he was weighing me up every bit as much I he. The second oriental fellow was clearly younger, clean shaven, wiry, with a scar that ran from the base of his right ear and across his neck, so no stranger to violence. The third was of European stock, though as he did not speak, I had no idea from where exactly he hailed, though his complexion suggested a man who spent the majority of his time outside and in sunnier climes. His hands were large, and his tuxedo strained against muscular arms and a broad chest. The muscle I assumed and decided to try and not put that assumption to the test. Of the three clearly the man in the centre was the power here.

‘You are Blackheart’s man?’ he asked, with barely an accent.

‘I am.’ I replied.

‘Then he has something for me.’ A statement not a question. This must be Ma Lè Kuàng I thought. Well, it was good to put a face finally to one’s enemy, and cursed Blackheart for putting me directly in our adversaries’ crosshairs. I had expected this night to be meeting a contact of Blackheart’s, not the man at the centre of all our problems.

‘He does.’ I replied. ‘However, I cannot dally here too long Sir, for I have a lady waiting across the club who will become suspicious should I be away too long.’ I apologised, ‘I am here merely to confirm Blackheart has what you desire.’

Kuàng smiled, ‘Do not worry about your lady friend. My own ladies are now engaging her in conversation that will keep her occupied. She will not notice you have left her. Now tell me, how does Blackheart intend to complete our transaction?’

‘He doesn’t.’ I said, trying to keep the warble from my voice, worried about how much Ivy was being dragged into this, but almost instantly pushed her to the back of my mind as Ma Lè Kuàng’s face darkened, and his two men tensed. The European leaned forward menacingly but was stopped by a waved hand from Kuàng.

‘What do you mean he doesn’t? Kuàng growled angrily.

I made a conciliatory smile and placed my hands, open, palms up upon the table, replied, ‘What I mean by that is with all the current focus upon him, post the assignment…’

‘Brought upon himself by leaving his calling card at the scene.’ Kuàng snarled.

‘Well quite, but what can I say, the ego of an artist often craves recognition, especially for pulling off that which no one thought possible, and so sometimes then tend to do things that are a bit…silly.’

‘His ego has put our business in jeopardy.’

‘Which Blackheart fully accepts but does not see it as an issue for you, he fully intends to honour the agreement. He just won’t be making the transfer in a way that would put you or him in danger. Better for all concerned the transaction should take place in a manner that links neither party directly to the piece.

Ma Lè Kuàng eyed me suspiciously but said ‘Continue.’

I coughed to disguise a nervous swallow, ‘Okay, in five days’ time…’ I began, doing my utmost to sell the lie our counter deception relied upon.


Chapter 21 – Jimmy.

As I was on my evening with Ivy and following the leads that would eventually lead me to my meeting with Ma Lè Kuàng, that same night, after the police watching Lady Margaret’s house had left their posts to follow me, Blackheart had slipped out, dressed as a gardener. Lady Margaret had quite a few gardeners about the place at this time of year, and for one to be seen leaving as evening fell was nothing new.

What I relay to you now is what was told to me later, though I may have paraphrased slightly at times, this is a good and honest account.

Once outside Blackheart walked down into Maidstone, stopping at one of the hostelries on the way, where it just so happened that our maid Molly had called in earlier to leave different clothes behind for Blackheart. In his changed attire Blackheart slipped out the back to make his way to Maidenhead’s station to catch the evening train into London. Taking up a seat in first class, as befits a gentleman, Blackheart settled himself in for the hour-long journey to St. Pancras. Once arrived he left the train, losing himself in the crowd and took, in his own words, a scenic stroll to Limehouse and the Chinatown, making sure he wasn’t being followed. Happy he was alone he sauntered down the Limehouse causeway to slip down a darkened alleyway, where he knocked upon a nondescript door.

The door opened a crack where he was greeted by suspicious eyes. Blackheart brandished a card and slid it though the crack, where it was snatched away, the door closing leaving him to stand alone on the street, as no doubt those behind the door examined his calling card. A minute later, maybe less, the door opened, this time wide enough to allow Blackheart entry, who without a backwards glance stepped through. Beyond the door two burly Chinese gentlemen waited, blocking his way. One patted him down, until satisfied Blackheart wasn’t carrying anything untoward ushered him through to a waiting room, that was, by western standards, sumptuous in its décor, though the couch was low, barely knee high, the air was thick with the sweet smell from dozen of burning joss sticks and the lighting subdued, the lamps shrouded by heavy red shades, casting long shadows and bathing the room in a warm red glow, typical of a Chinese brothel. I didn’t ask how Blackheart knew this was typical, just assumed he was correct.

Blackheart didn’t say how long he waited until a middle-aged Chinese lady, that Blackheart assumed was the Brothel madame and described as stern, aloof and dressed as one would expect a senior courtesan of a Chinese emperor to dress, led him to a suite of rooms to the back of the building. The rooms were clearly the personal space of the Brothel’s madam, with one that functioned as the establishment’s office. The madame opened the door to the office standing aside to let Blackheart enter. Inside was a wooden cabinet, upon which rested a teapot and two fine China cups, a small porcelain dish full of sugar cubes, a silver teaspoon and tea leaf strainer. Over the cabinet, hanging from the wall, a rather bad painting of a bright seascape, which seemed incongruous with the general dark demeanour of the room, not helped by the single feeble light providing the illumination. Heavy drapes hung in front of what Blackheart imagined to be a window behind, though it could just as easily be a solid brick wall. However, none of this was as interesting as the man who sat at the desk that faced the door directly as one entered. In Blackheart’s own words, the desk seemed a little too small for the room and a little too low for the man currently sat behind it, which suggested this was a place normally occupied by the Madame.

The man suggested Blackheart should sit, which he did, though the chair offered was slightly too low causing Blackheart to sit with his legs angled up in a slightly stressed position, whether this was on purpose or purely accidental Blackheart neither knew nor cared.

‘Tea?’ the man behind the desk enquired, who despite his clearly Chinese heritage spoke with a flawless, clipped English accent.

‘Thank you, yes.’ Blackheart replied politely.

The man nodded at the Madame who had remained stood at the door. She moved to the cabinet where the tea pot was gently brewing. She poured out two black teas, passed one cup to Blackheart, then placed the other upon the desk in-front of the sitting man. She picked up the sugar bowl and tongs, offering it to Blackheart who declined it, then again to the sitting man, who took the tongs and picked out three sugar cubes, dropping them into his cup. Taking the silver spoon now offered he stirred it with a methodical motion, before placing the cup and saucer back down upon the desk and waved the madame away who left with a short bow, closing the door behind her.

Now alone the man behind the desk took a sip from his tea, savoured if for a moment, placed it down, lent forward, elbows upon the desk, fingers steepled, index fingers touching the base of his nose, ‘So Lord Blackheart, you now wish to talk to me, when only a few weeks ago you told my man where to, and let me see if I have got this correct, shove it up my flabby yellow arse.’ The words were spoken with a note of humour and a slight smirk upon his face.

‘Well, I clearly got the flabby part wrong,’ Blackheart conceded with good grace, ‘I can see now you are somewhat the athlete.’ And took a sip of his tea.

‘If years at an English prep school taught me anything, it is that a healthy body breeds a healthy mind. Probably the only lesson I took to heart.’ Replied the man patting his lean stomach. In-fact everything about him was lean and toned. He had the physique of a long-distance runner, and the face of a hunter, with slim lips, sharp cheekbones, clear intelligent eyes, all beneath dark black hair slicked back neatly from his face, like a bird of prey in human form.

Blackheart smiled and said, ‘That and it’s not what you know, it’s who.’

‘Devlin, you old rogue, how the devil are you?’ the man stood, and with a beaming smile reached across the desk, hand outstretched, which Blackheart shook vigorously.

‘Jolly fine old bean.’ Blackheart replied, ‘And what of you Jimmy? I don’t think I have seen you since, oh when would it have been?’

‘Early sixteen if I am not mistaken. You look much healthier than you did back then.’

‘Strangely enough living in a trench with frightful fellows trying to kill you with all manner of confounded inventions from hell does tend to sap one’s health.’

‘Glad you made it back alive, truly I am.’

‘And what of you. Last time I saw you, you were still playing second fiddle to your father and elder brother. I must admit I hadn’t realised when I turned down your man that I was turning down you. I thought your brother was in charge.’

‘He was, for a while, then funny thing, he had an accident with a tram.’

‘No doubt a tragic and unforeseen accident, robbing your family of a leader and you a dearly respected and loved older brother.’ Blackheart cocked a sardonic eyebrow.

‘I was, devastated, truly, for at least five, maybe ten seconds, and then, well, with death marching across the four corners of the globe, one could hardly get sentimental about such things.’ Jimmy Wong, gangster, pimp, drug runner and Cambridge Blue laughed uproariously.

‘And your father?’

‘Taken by the Spanish flu in nineteen.’

‘And so, the family business fell to you?’

‘It was if it had been fated.’

‘I can’t think of anyone more worthy and likely to make a success of it.’ said Blackheart graciously.

‘Why thank you.’ Jimmy Wong bowed his head in thanks, ‘So, are you going to tell me why you called for this meeting?’ Jimmy cut to the chase, his eyes hardening, affable Jimmy gone, Master Wong, head of the Wong crime syndicate in his place.

‘To put it bluntly I wish to destroy Ma Lè Kuàng.’

‘Don’t we all, but etiquette and honour forbid it unless he steps across clearly defined lines.’ Jimmy shrugged.

‘And what would those lines be exactly?’ asked Blackheart.

‘Oh, you know the usual, breaking long standing truces, actively making a move on one of our established business interests, assassination of a family member, bringing the law down upon themselves that would drag the rest of the families into the line of fire.’

Blackheart smiled, ‘So let’s explore that last one shall we.’

Jimmy Wong put his hand to his chin, finger across his mouth as he stared inquisitively at Blackheart, ‘Go on.’

‘I presume you have heard of the theft of the Coils of the Anaconda from the British Museum?’

‘Naturally. It has caused quite a stir among my people.’

‘And what would happen if, say one of your competitors…’

‘You mean Kuàng. You don’t need to be coy around me Devlin.’

‘Yes Kuàng, what if he had it?’

‘Well, that would depend.’ Jimmy answered thoughtfully.

‘Depend upon what?’

‘It would depend on what he did with it. If he presented it back to the authorities, it would gain him much favour among the common people in having retrieved it, ensuring it wasn’t lost forever into the hands of some anonymous collector. But it would not necessarily curry favour with the heads of the powerful families. They have no wish to see it back in the hands of the imperialist British who stole it in the first place, no offence intended old boy.’

‘None taken.’

‘So, if he was to offer it up to one of the families that would bestow great prestige upon the recipient, who would no doubt place honour upon Kuàng, but depending on which family he presented it could cause all manner of ripples and fluctuations through a delicate and oft troubled set of allegiances.’

‘Let me guess,’ said Blackheart, ‘There are about six families with a hundred and twenty different alliances between those six.’

‘I see you understand the issue.’ Said Jimmy with a sigh, ‘The political make up of Chinatown makes the great alliances of Europe that led to the last conflagration seem like child’s play. Put the Coils in the wrong hands and it could start a turf war, a very vicious turf war where much blood would be spilled and not every family would survive.’

‘What if he kept it for himself?’

‘That would be a gross breach of honour and be an insult to every other family as he would effectively be setting himself above all others.’

‘Are the Coils really that significant?’

‘Imagine some cousin of your King walking into the tower, taking the royal crown and setting it upon his head for the whole world to see. This would be a similar statement and could not be tolerated by the rest of us.’

‘Okay, so what if he made claim that one of the other families had stolen the Coils, intending to keep it for themselves?’

‘He would have to be able to back up such a claim and fast. Once you set that ball rolling all hell would break lose frankly, and if he couldn’t prove someone else had it, they would be within their rights to call for his head, but trust would be eroded on all sides and a bloodbath would probably ensue.’

‘What if he could prove it?’

‘Then the accused would feel the full force of the other families and, if not be wiped out completely, would be so damaged they would be a spent force for generations to come. Frankly there is no good outcome to any of these options.’

‘Mmm, I see.’ Said Blackheart thoughtfully.

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously, ‘Just what the hell do you know Blackheart? And what has any of this to do with you, let alone Kuàng?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Blackheart smiled darkly, ‘so it’s like this…’ and launched into the next part of his great deception.


Chapter 22 – Fishing.

The day after our respective London assignations, Blackheart and I decided we would go fishing. A proper gentlemanly pursuit, and one that afforded us a chance to leave the house, observed, thus establishing our whereabouts, but also when down at the river side able to converse without the worry of being overheard.

The other benefit of going fishing was I enjoyed it, and if anything was something I was naturally better at than Blackheart, which tended to be rare.

‘How was Ivy?’ Blackheart asked lightly as we set up by the riverbank.

‘Charming, delightful and enough sex appeal to stoke the fires of the coldest fish.’ I beamed foolishly.

‘You Sir have got it bad.’

‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘I know. Damn it Blackheart, she could be the one.’

‘In my experience there is seldom ever only one.’ He said as he attached a fly to his hook. ‘Do not give yourself up to the notion of love so easy my friend. Those flames die down after a while and then what are you left with?’

‘A family, a home, a partner in life?’

‘Or domestic mediocrity, a wife that bores you, children that drain the life from you, that empty your wallet.’ Blackheart replied cynically as he cast his line, badly.

‘Are you telling me you never want to settle down.’ I asked as I cast my line skilfully.

‘While I owe it to the family name to provide an heir, I see no attraction in settling down.’

I flicked my line out and recast, ‘You will die old and alone with that attitude.’ I remarked sagely.

‘Alone, possibly. Old, unlikely.’ He said recasting his own line, a note of melancholy sitting behind the words.

‘Old, no you probably won’t make it to old age, at least not while you insist on flying those damn death traps. Anyway, I am sure there are many pretty things that will line up to keep you company until you decide you want something more.’

‘Anyway,’ said Blackheart bringing the conversation back to the present, ‘how did last night pan out?’

‘It went well. I met Kuàng. I definitely got the sense he believed what I was telling him.’

‘Excellent, Jimmy Wong was also, I say I think you’ve got a bite.’ He said seeing my fishing line go taut.

With practiced ease I brought my catch to land, a reasonable sized Perch. I unhooked it and dropped it in the net. ‘Sorry, you were saying?’

‘The Wong family are happy to play their part. They don’t want Kuàng to use the Coils to upset the current balance of power. But while they are willing to help, they will only do so in the guise of a sleeping partner.’ Blackheart said enigmatically.

‘What the hell does that mean?’ I asked recasting my line, but unhappy with the cast flicked it back to recast.

‘It means any help provided by the Wongs will be in such a way as to not be attributable back to them.’

‘Then who will it be attributable to?’

‘Ah, so that’s the interesting bit.’

‘Interesting, how?’

‘Jimmy wants us to engage the services of a cousin of his newly arrived from China. That cousin hasn’t been here long enough to have made any hard connections with his family, thus if anything goes wrong…’

‘I get it, your friend is in the clear. How do we contact your friend’s cousin?’

‘Jimmy will set that up.’

‘Okay, but just so you know, we don’t have that much time, Kuàng was impatient to get things moving.’

Blackheart paused mid cast and looked at me searchingly, ‘Really? Why so rushed?’

‘He didn’t elaborate. Is that a problem?’

‘Maybe, maybe not.’ Blackheart rested the end of his fishing rod upon the ground by his foot, hook and line dangling in the air, ‘It does rather suggest Kuàng is following a timescale of his own, or maybe another’s. If there is another player involved, that we are not aware of, that could cause issues.’

‘Oh joy.’ I replied sarcastically.

‘No matter. There’s no point worrying about what we cannot control, only those elements we can, which brings us to the issue of the Police.’

‘What of them?’

‘It’s time we shook their cage.’

‘Are you sure? They’re already watching us. They followed me into London last night. And you had to dodge them entirely. That Detective Hawkes is convinced you’re involved.’

‘And he’s right, I am.’ Blackheart flashed a mischievous smile.

‘Yes, but if he can prove it, then you, no, we, are going down. He won’t be happy till he’s caught you.’

‘And that is why he is in the best place to help us, unwitting though that may be.’

‘You know you’re crazy, don’t you?’

‘I prefer wilfully reckless.’

I pursed my lips and turned away from Blackheart to cast my fishing line again as I rued the daring do nature of my friend.

‘Don’t sulk.’ Said Blackheart.

‘I’m not sulking,’ I retorted, ‘I am merely choosing not to engage with your ridiculous suggestion and am instead fishing.’

‘Raif trust me, oh god, you’ve got another bite.’ Blackheart huffed, ‘How do you do that?’

Unable to stop a smile of my own I swung my new catch into the net, ‘What can I say, it’s a knack.’ I said with pretend modesty.

‘Well think of the Police in this case as a fish, we need to bait them and draw them in so we can snare their aide when we need it.’

I placed my rod down, ‘You do know the police are getting a hammering in the press, especially Hawkes. If he doesn’t get someone for the theft soon, he’ll be for the chop.’

‘Which makes him ideal for the role I have in mind for him. His need will make him desperate for a collar, and that means he can be manipulated.’

I was not as convinced as Blackheart of how easily we could manipulate Hawkes. I was of the firm opinion Hawkes knew Blackheart had stolen the Coils and his gaze was fixed upon him, just waiting for Blackheart to slip up. However, Blackheart was at ease with the situation and would hear nothing of my concerns and preferred to discuss how we would trigger the proceedings to get every part into place. The afternoon passed pleasantly enough and as afternoon rolled into evening we packed up and headed back home, me with a sizeable catch and Blackheart with little to show for his day of fishing.

We reached the entrance to the drive, chatting amiably as we went when Blackheart noticed a Model T Ford Van with Police painted upon its side. Blackheart turned to me passing me his fishing equipment, as Sergeant Hawkes and a constable climbed out of the cab and headed towards us. Before they reached us Blackheart said quietly, ‘I believe they are here for me. You know what to do. Press on old boy.’ He smiled then turned to face the approaching coppers, ‘Detective Sergeant Hawkes, how nice to see you. Can I be of assistance.’

Hawkes didn’t stand on ceremony and with a steely glint in his eye said ‘Lord Devin Blackheart, I am arresting you for the theft of the Coils of the Anaconda. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court.’ Blackheart said nothing merely offered his wrists to be handcuffed and smiled, which surprised Hawkes, ‘What, nothing to say? No declaration of innocence? No pointing out you know important people and that you’ll be free within the hour?’

‘What, and spoil all the fun?’ Blackheart smirked, ‘Constable do your duty.’ He said offering his wrists again, to which the constable looked from Blackheart to Hawkes unsure of how to proceed.

‘Well don’t just stand there man, cuff him and put him in the back.’ Hawkes snapped.

The constable obeyed, and without any fuss Blackheart was bound and loaded into the back of the van. Hawkes and the constable then got in the front and drove away. At no point did either police officer acknowledge my presence, to be fair I too had said nothing. With a despondent sigh and sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I carted mine and Blackheart’s fishing gear back to the house. Once inside I presented the fish to the cook who took them gratefully. I then went and washed up, removing the days grime, changed into my evening clothes, and then sought out Lady Margaret.

Lady Margaret was reading in the solar, Mrs Heller sat across from her doing some needle point. ‘They’ve arrested Devlin.’ I announced as I entered the room.

‘I feared as much.’ Lady Margaret said, placing her book face down upon her knee. ‘How did he take it dear?’

‘Like he was enjoying it.’

‘That boy has no sense of proprietary. I really must have a word with his mother.’

‘I think it may be too late for that.’

‘You’re probably right, he takes after my side of the family a little too much.’ She replied with the same mischievous smile I was so used to seeing from Blackheart. ‘Did he say anything when arrested?’

‘Only to press on.’

‘Very well,’ she said easily. ‘You do whatever you need to Raif. I will sort out a lawyer for him. God knows he’s going to need one, if only to keep him from over antagonising the detective.’

‘I think we may be a bit late on that score also.’

‘Will he never learn?’ she shook her head ruefully.

‘Somehow I doubt it.’

Lady Margaret laughed then a thought struck her, ‘A letter came for Devlin today. Judging by the scrawled handwriting on the envelope it would suggest it was written in a hurry. I think maybe you should read it.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘My dear you two have been through enough scrapes together for you to see what is contained in his mail. It may have nothing to do with this latest escapade, but then again.’ she shrugged. ‘It’s on the mantelpiece.’

I retrieved the letter, and sure enough the writing had the look of something written in a panic. I opened the envelope, took out the letter and read it, then read it again, and for a moment forgetting myself and my surroundings looked up and said ‘Bugger!’

‘My dear you have gone very pale.’ Said Lady Margaret, ‘I take it that does not contain good news.’

‘Simon has done a runner.’

‘Simon?’ Lady Margaret looked at me quizzically.

‘The young archivist,’ I replied, ‘who a lot of what we’re about depends upon.’

‘Does it say where he’s gone?’

‘No.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. The honest answer was I didn’t know, however that wouldn’t wash and so I replied with the only thing I could think of, ‘I will go to London tomorrow and start hunting him down and hope I find him first.’

‘Very well. I will have Janice have you a breakfast ready early. I assume you will be catching the early train.’

I nodded and excusing myself from the ladies’ company headed to my room to begin packing for an extended period of who knows how long to try and track down Simon. All of a sudden it felt like things were beginning to unravel and I had no idea which frayed end I should be grabbing for first.


Chapter 23 – Archivists.

I had wormed my way into the building that housed the archivist Simon’s bedsit, where it had taken me but moments to pick the lock to his actual room. It was empty. All signs of Simon were gone, it was as though he’d never been there.

I left, and risky as it may be, made my way to the British Museum. Luckily from my brief stint as a cleaner there I found it easy to gain entry posing as a worker in a pair of second-hand overalls I picked up from a market on my way, and without needing to go anywhere near the public galleries, where I knew heightened security was in-place following our recent theft.

I grabbed a mop and bucket from one of the storerooms then made my way through the lower workings of the museum to see if I could find Simon. First off, I found his locker, but it was empty. Finally, I resorted to cornering a couple of his archivist colleagues and asked of his whereabouts. The first pair knew nothing, the second pair I accosted were altogether more forthcoming, saying he’d been recalled to the family home on some personal emergency, and left suddenly. I asked around further and either got the brush off with those I asked claiming to know nothing or, and far more suspiciously, word for word gave me the spiel about family emergency.

I was about to ask another archivist, who with books in hand, was making his way somewhere when a museum guard hailed me, commanding me to stop where I was, seems my presence had been noted. Calmly I turned away, pretending not to hear, walking quickly stepped into an adjoining corridor before breaking into a run. I could hear the guard behind me panting, and calling for me to halt, in between calling for help. I didn’t stop to see if anyone answered the call, but put enough distance between me and him, till hiding in a little-known storeroom that only the cleaning staff used for illicit breaks, I ditched the overalls as I waited for the kerfuffle to die down. Carefully I left the storeroom, walking back from the way I’d come, with all the innocence of one who belonged exactly where he was. Passing a few people on my way out, not one paid me any attention.

I needed another approach, but my best option for a lead was still rooted squarely with Simon’s ex colleagues. Fortunately come the evening I knew exactly where I would find them, the same pub they always congregated in on a Monday evening after work. I had a few hours to kill so I took myself away back to my hotel, ordered lunch, and spent a leisurely afternoon with the day’s papers and a couple of brandies.

That evening I set out once more, my destination, the aptly named Museum Tavern, the traditional stopping off point for academics and students from the museum, which included the archivists, before they made their way home. I arrived before them, ensuring I could get a good spot where I’d be able to keep an eye on all in the place, and be able to pick a moment best suited to me for cornering and questioning them.

As soon as the Museum closed for the day, the tavern began to fill with the museum staff, sure enough the archivists, most were in a boisterous mood, except for a small group, who detached themselves from the rest to sit in a quiet corner, where they huddled together as though for mutual protection. It wasn’t a surprise to me that those huddled were the self-same archivists who had spun me the line about Simon’s family emergency. I didn’t approach immediately, first I wanted to make sure no one else was watching them. Once satisfied no one else was paying them any attention I went to the bar, where I could stand a little closer to where they sat and make another check that no one else was on their case, as I ordered another pint.

Occasionally I noticed one of them would look up nervously, casting worried glances towards the door, as though expecting something dangerous to walk in. Of me they paid no heed, just another random person stood at the bar having a quiet drink. Well, I thought, it was time to disavow them of such a notion. Picking my pint, I strode purposely over to the table where they sat, pulled up a stool and sat down placing my drink down, and giving them a cold smile said ‘So, which of you is going to tell me the truth about Simon?’

Three of them blanched, one stared back at me, mouth fixed in a tight line, and the fifth member made to stand, but before he made it to his feet, my arm shot out, hand clasped upon his shoulder, fingers digging into his collar bone forcing him back down to his seat, ‘Did I say you could leave?’ I snarled viciously. Given there was five of them and only one of me, I needed to make an instant impression that said don’t mess with me or else, otherwise they’d simply flee and there would be little I could do.

‘I don’t know what you mean Mister.’ said the one who’d stared, ‘He’s been called away to…’

‘Called away for a family emergency.’ I said cutting across his well-rehearsed excuse, ‘Yes so you all said earlier. But we all know that’s not true don’t we. You,’ I turned to face the one who’s shoulder I was still gripping, and who was trying to keep the grimace of pain from his face, admirable but pointless, ‘who told you to tell people about the family emergency.’

‘S, Simon.’

I smiled nastily and squeezed his shoulder viciously ‘LIE! I will ask you again who…’

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ the starer challenged, jumping to his feet.

I appraised him quickly, he was bigger than the others, reasonably well built and with just an edge of youthful belligerence and confidence, and trouble for me if I didn’t act fast. I let go of the shoulder of the one I had pinned previously, stood sharply catching them all off guard with my speed and landed a short sharp punch square on my challenger’s nose, which landed with a crack as the cartilage broke beneath the force of my assault. Before he could react or cry out, I grabbed his shirt front, pulling him half across the table to me, knocking some of their drinks over and ignoring the blood that was pumping from his broken nose falling upon my hand I growled ‘Sit down! You,’ I pointed to one of the others, ‘give him a hanky for his nose.’

I launched my attack so fast, it seemed no one in the pub had noticed, or if they had they wanted no part of it. Left alone, still standing I glared at the five archivists coldly, as they all stared back me with unbridled fear, spilt beer running off the table and onto their legs.

Behaving as a heavy hadn’t come easily to me, until once during a piece of skulduggery during our time in Mesopotamia Blackheart had revealed his secret when attempting the same. He’d said, ‘Raif, the trick is to act like you are the craziest person in the room. No one likes dealing with the mentally unstable. You can never be sure what they’re going to do next. So, Raif behave crazy and without any hint of compassion, and you can make everyone in a room wish they were anywhere else but in your eyeline.’. It was a lesson I had been called upon to use many times, and it had never failed me yet.

‘Take the hanky away,’ I said, and the archivist obeyed, ‘This is going to hurt,’ I said as I grabbed his nose and with a crack reset it. The lad let out stifled cry, but otherwise said nothing. ‘Right, let’s start again. Where’s Simon?’

‘We don’t know.’ The one who’d handed the hanky over replied. I stared directly at him causing him to trip over his words in a rush to answer, ‘I, we, don’t know. Really, it’s the truth, I promise. We don’t know where he is. He didn’t come into work the other day. He wasn’t on the bus, didn’t come in later, nothing.’

‘So, what did you do?’

‘We covered for him. Jeffrey,’ he looked at broken nose, ‘well he told Mr Mulligan that Simon was unwell and wouldn’t be in that day.’

‘How did Mulligan react?’

‘He wasn’t best pleased but seemed to accept it.’

‘What then?’

‘We went home, a couple of us went to his room, knocked on his door but got no answer.’

‘And?’

‘There wasn’t a and, that was it.’

‘Did no one think to enter his room and check he was okay?’ The young men looked to one another, clearly holding something back. ‘Well?’ I growled.

‘I was going to.’ Jeffery said, taking the hanky from his nose and staring at me balefully, this one has got some gumption, I thought, I’d best watch my back, this one was going to want some retribution for his busted nose and pride eventually.

‘So, but why didn’t you?’

‘Because Mrs Taylor, the landlady, appeared and said he’d let the day before.’

‘And you didn’t think that strange?’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t no business of ours.’

‘Really. Your friend just up sticks, and leaves and you didn’t think it was any of your business?’

‘No.’ the lad looked down at the table guiltily.

‘So why did you say he’d been called back to his family, you could have just as easily said he’d quit, and no one would have been the wiser. Why the excuse?’ The five archivists looked to one another, clearly something had happened. Again, it was Jeffery that spoke up.

‘Okay, so we asked Mrs Taylor if he’d left a message for us. Where he’d gone, if he needed any of his stuff at work forwarding to him. He’d left some items that were of a personal nature back at the museum, we didn’t think he’d have left those, or gone without saying goodbye.’

‘And?’

‘She us a note, with a telephone number on it and said she’d been told if anyone was to ask about Simon, she was to hand over the number and have them call it.’

‘I take it you called it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘When I got through a female voice told me to hold, so I did. Then a man answered. He told me what we all told you earlier.’

‘Did he say who he was?’

‘No, I just assumed he was someone from Simon’s family, though…’

‘Though?’

‘He sounded, well, foreign.’

‘Foreign, are you sure?’

‘Yes, he definitely had an accent.’

‘Really, what type of accent?’

‘Foreign, I already said.’

I rolled my eyes, but keeping my voice low and menacing asked, ‘Was it a European accent, French, German, Dutch, or maybe someone from America, or maybe something Hispanic?’

‘No, more oriental.’

‘Are you sure? Think very carefully now.’ I hissed, eyes narrowed and jaw set.

Jeffrey looked at me, and clearly he was weighing up what was the greater risk, me or whoever it was he spoke to, he decided it was me, ‘Definitely oriental. My father had a Chinese man servant, the person on the end of the phone had the same sort of inflections in his voice.’

‘Is he telling the truth?’ I asked, looking about the table, glaring at each in turn, but it was clear from the worried nods that that Jeffrey was speaking the truth. Damn, I thought, the Chinese have him, but which group.

I stood slowly and said, ‘You should mop that beer up, you all look like you’ve wet yourselves.’, grabbed my own pint, that had somehow escaped the earlier carnage, downed it in one, ran the back of my hand across my lips, slammed the jug down upon the table and without so much as a backwards glance walked away without another word, leaving five young men behind in a state of shock.

Outside, I took a deep breath, shoved my hands deep into my pockets, so no one would see them shaking and walked away as calmly as I could. Once I was a good block away, I stopped, took a deep breath, and relaxed. I was always shocked at how satisfying violence could feel, and it scared me. Though before this caper was through, I had a horrible suspicion I was going to need to call upon that side of me again.


Chapter 24 – Meetings

I couldn’t call Blackheart. For one I didn’t know if he was still in custody of the police, and even if he wasn’t he would be watched and everything I did now relied on being separate to Blackheart. I was on my own. I didn’t know what had become of the archivist, I could only hope that whoever hands he’d fallen into, he wasn’t giving up the plan, but was instead telling who ever held him what Blackheart had pre-briefed him to say.

It was time for me to approach Ma Lè Kuàng and tell him where, when, and how we were going to hand over the Coils of the Anaconda. Now we were not due to hand over the Coils until three days from now but, to keep a sense that all was well, it was imperative I presented a confident front to Kuàng. Well, I say Kuàng, it wasn’t Kuàng I was instructed to meet. During our brief conversation at the Albemarle Club, Kuàng made it clear I was to liaise directly with the thick set man with the European looks. That sort of made sense to me. If I was Kuàng keeping those with a clearly oriental ancestry out of sight, would make it harder to pin any involvement for the theft on the Chinese underworld.

Before I left for London, I had given a letter to Molly to post on my behalf. I knew whatever happened with my search for Simon, I needed to have arranged a meet with Kuàng’s man today. The letter had, therefore simply said Waterloo Station, newsagents, noon, buy the Times and signed it with Blackheart’s criminal insignia. Blackheart’s insignia was, if I was being truthful, a bit on the nose. It was a Jack of Hearts playing card, but the two hearts on the card were black rather than red, a four-year-old could work out who it was from. No wonder Detective Sergeant Hawkes has been all over Blackheart like a rash when his calling card was found at the scene of the robbery.

Waterloo was busy, which was why I picked it. If things should go sideways, it was much easier to lose ones self amongst a crowd. I made my way to the newsagents on the platform at noon. Two places before me in the queue, buying a copy of the Times, was Kuàng’s European. I bought a copy of the Express and saying nothing took a seat on the bench Kuàng’s man had sat moments before. We said nothing to each other, just sat and read. Sports pages first, obviously, followed by the front page then something in the middle. Kuàng’s man did the same. After maybe ten minutes I closed my paper and folded it, slotting a note within. I turned to Kuàng’s man who was now rolling up his paper, and politely asked him if he cared to swap. He smiled, nodded, and handed me his paper as I passed him mine. He got up, walked away and I remained on the bench and read the paper. Once I had decided enough time had passed and that anyone watching would have grown bored of my lack activity I got up and strolled for the station exit, just another bland face in a sea of bland faces.

My next port of call was a cake shop where I had an order to pick up. Once collected I carefully carried the boxed cake across London to Chiswick. There I made my way to a rather attractive townhouse. I knocked upon the door and took a step down from the top step, cakebox cradle under my left arm. Moments later the door opened, a maid, in a black cotton dress adorned with a brilliantly white apron and matching white head band.

‘Good afternoon Miss. I have a delivery for the lady of the house.’ I said politely and doffed my cap.

‘Who should I say is calling?’

‘Mr Mortis on behalf of Lord Blackheart.’

At the mention of Blackheart, the maid’s frosty expression melted, and I was welcomed with a warm smile, ‘Do come in Sir.’ She said brightly.

‘Many thanks.’ I said, removing my cap and stepping by her into a large hallway, bedecked with a large mirror, coat stand, a large monstera plant that looked like it was running wild, and a small bench with a red velvet cushioned top.

‘May I take your jacket Sir?’ the maid asked politely.

‘No thank you. I will not be staying long.’

‘Are you sure?’ she said giving me a sly look.

‘Quite sure.’ I replied, though less sure than my words implied.

‘Very well, I will let the mistress know you are here. Please take a seat.’ she said with tilt of the head towards the bench.

I nodded gratefully and sat down, carefully resting the cake box upon my knees. I was kept waiting for maybe five minutes when the maid returned and informed me the mistress of the house would see me in the rear reception room. I was to make my way down the hall, follow it around to the right and then take the door on the right, where the mistress was waiting.

I thanked her as she shot me a knowing look and with a sly grin watched me as I made my way down the corridor. I came to the door as instructed where I rapped upon it, from inside a melodious voice said ‘Enter.’.

The room was, despite it being the afternoon, low lit, as the curtains were drawn, the only light coming from six or seven candles dotted about the room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. The room look richly decorated, if in a style that harked back to an older age, all heavy furniture and large portraits of country scenes hung from the moulded picture rail that ran around the room at its three-quarter height mark.

‘Do come in proper Mr Mortis.’ A voice beckoned, ‘And please shut the door.’

I closed the door and made my way into the room, yet I hadn’t spotted the owner of the voice when from my left there was a rustle of fabric and I turned to find mine hostess stretched out upon a chaise longe. The first thing I noticed was she didn’t seem to be wearing much, only a shear black gown, that only hid her modesty by the fact it was gathered about her enough to make it vaguely opaque, though she had gathered it in such a way that it revealed a degree of cleavage that would be considered inappropriate in polite society, and one naked leg rested outside the gown atop her other, still covered leg. Luxuriant blonde hair fell long and untethered upon the chaise cushion. Momentarily lost for words, the lady swung her leg round and sat up, allowing her gown to fall open a little more, teasing a little more of the delights beneath the gown.

‘Like what you see Mr Mortis.’ She purred, then gathered her gown about her in a play of mock modesty.

‘Apologies madam,’ I recovered myself, ‘Lord Blackheart sends his regards and apologies for not being here in person, though he has asked me to deliver you this.’ I proffered the cake box forward.

‘How delightful,’ she said, her eyes reflecting the flickering of the candles, ‘be a sweet and place it down upon the table.’

Placing the box upon the table, I turned to look at her, to find her watching me intently, clearing a sudden lump from my throat I said, ‘I believe you have something for Blackheart.’

‘Oh, so business like. Where is the fun in that?’

‘Sorry, err, miss…’

‘Please, call me Lavinia, Miss, Mrs all so formal. I would much rather we be…friends.’

‘Why thank you Lavinia,’ I smiled, ‘in which case I am Raif.’

‘Very pleased to make your acquaintance Raif. You will find a nice wine over there, she said pointing at a corner table in the far part of the room with long elegant fingers, ‘I do so hate drinking alone, so why not pour us each one, and while we have a pleasant drink, I will get Janice to get the package for Devlin.’

‘Of course.’ I smiled again. As I went to pour the wine, Lavinia pulled on a cord and somewhere deep within the house a bell rang. Minutes later, after I had taken up a seat facing the chaise and we both had a glass of wine in hand, Janice the maid appeared. Lavinia asked her to have the box ready for Mr Mortis. Janice curtsied and turned to leave, again giving me a wicked smile as she did so. Clearly some game was afoot I wasn’t completely aware of.

With Janice gone Lavinia took a sip of wine, never taking her eyes from me. Wondering just what the hell Blackheart had gotten me into I too took a sip, and had to admit, it was an excellent vintage. Whatever her strange habits, Lavinia certainly knew how to pick a good wine. As if reading my mind, she asked ‘You like?’

‘Very much so.’

‘Shall I tell you the secret to really enjoying wine?’

‘Please do.’ I said beginning to relax.

Clearly Lavinia was also relaxing as she once more reclined upon the chaise, took the glass towards her lips, swirling the red liquid provocatively within the glass, ‘The secret,’ she said, ‘Is choosing the best vessel to drink from.’, she giggled naughtily and letting her gown fall open and throwing her head back poured the wine over herself, allowing it to pool in the nape of her neck before trickling down the length of her body, between the valley of her breasts, along the soft rise of her belly, filling her belly button before flowing further to mix in the soft curls of the hair shielding her sex.

The invitation was explicit, and I was not about to insult the lady in her own home, and so did what any gentleman should in such a situation, I accepted the offer to sample the wine from the most willing of vessels.

Sometime later, and now understanding why Janice had been so keen to take my jacket when I had arrived, I lay upon the chaise, naked, energy spent, Lavinia equally naked, as I stroked her hair, she spoke softly, ‘Next time you see Blackheart tell him should he ever want to send you in his stead, that would be more than welcome.’ She looked up at me and smiled.

‘I assume,’ I began drily, ‘that Blackheart has drunk wine with you also?’

‘Wine, whisky, brandy.’ She laughed brazenly. ‘It costs me a fortune in upholstery cleaning.’ At which we both laughed heartily.

‘Is there no full-time drinking partner in your life?’ I asked.

‘Not since 1916.’ She said, a note of sadness entering her voice as she looked away from me, and I kicked myself for asking. One day I would learn not to pry.

‘Apologies I didn’t mean to…’

‘Hush dear, it is of no consequence,’ she looked back up at me and smile, though she couldn’t hide a faraway look of pain in her eyes. She reached beyond me and pulled upon a cord, and a bell rang.

‘I suppose I should get myself cleaned up and dressed.’ I said, taking the bell ringing as a sign the afternoon’s entertainment was over.

‘We have a few minutes yet.’ She said turning over so she laid upon me, chest to chest and kissed me deeply. We remained like that, and for a time I lost myself in her lips, so much so that I didn’t hear the door open or Janice entering the room. A polite throat clearing brought me to my senses and found Janice stood before us, a box in hand. Clearly unperturbed by mine or her mistress nakedness, I can only assume she’d witnessed this sight or similar on more than one occasion. ‘I have your item sir.’ She said and placed it down before me and giving me a playful wink and a curtsy to Lavinia left us behind.

‘Your maid is a cheeky one.’ I laughed.

‘And totally indispensable.’ Lavinia said warmly, then giving me a final kiss, removed herself. Picked up her gown and wrapped herself within it. ‘You will find Janice waiting for you outside the door, she will show you to the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll want to clean up before you leave.’

‘Thank you, that would be most welcome.’ I said and stooped to find my discarded underpants and put them on. Then gathered up the rest of my items, before saying, ‘And the box?’

‘I will have Janice leave it at the front door for you.’

I nodded my thanks and made my way from the room as Lavinia moved to one of the other couches to recline. Janice showed me to a bathroom where a sink of hot water, soap and a towel had been provided.

Not much later, clean, tidy, well as tidy as I could make my crumpled clothes look, I left Lavinia’s place, box in hand, and made my way back to my hotel. Tomorrow I would put the next part of Blackheart’s plan into operation, which promised to be far less agreeable.


Chapter 25 – The Cake Drop

I sat upon my hotel bed, cake box open before me, inside which rested the Coils of the Anaconda. I still wasn’t sure if this was the original or a decoy copy. Only an expert would be able to tell the difference, and I wasn’t. All I knew someone was playing someone, and I could only hope Blackheart’s game was better than Kuàng’s or this would ultimately all be for naught.

The next part of the plan was making the drop of this version of the Coils, at the time and place I had palmed the details of to Kuàng’s man at the paper exchange the day before. I knew that Kuàng already had a version of the Coils he believed to be the genuine article, and that there was a good chance no one was going to turn up at the drop, no one that is except the police, who Kuàng, as an anonymous good citizen was going to tip off. Of course, if we were wrong about this then Kuàng may turn up, inspect the item, pretend its real, hand over the details of where we would receive our payment and go on his own sweet way with a second version of the Coils, for reasons known only to himself. If I am honest that was the outcome I was hoping for. Of course, he could also turn up, inspect the item, believing it to be a fake, accuse me of pulling a fast one and have me shot. Oh hell, it only just hit me, we never considered this might just be an elaborate plan for Kuàng to cover his tracks by removing lose ends, namely Blackheart and me. That way no one would know Kuàng had the original, which he could switch out with a replica any time he saw fit. He could arrange to have the replica found, and no one would be the wiser he still held the original. He would have got away Scott free.

I stared at the Coils, they stared back. My stomach cramped uneasily as I imagined all the way things could go wrong. I could walk away of course. It wasn’t too late. I could empty my bank account and abscond. But could I run out on Blackheart? Were our accounts even? He had saved me, many times, but I had done the same for him. But the lifestyle I now enjoyed I had to acknowledge was down to Blackheart and his generosity. Then again did I want to take a bullet? Did I want to die? As I realised this could possibly be my last day, thoughts of Ivy shoved their way to the forefront of my mind, a mix of longing and guilt as flashes of the afternoon spent with Lavinia threatened to derail me. What the hell, why was this bothering me? Ivy and I were not formally an item. Yes, we’d kissed, and while I could not deny I had feelings for her, neither of us had made any declarations of love or exclusivity. It was the 1920’s after all, and young women like Ivy were no longer as strictly bound to the behaviours of their mothers and were striking out on their own seeking fun and fulfilment in ways that did not require matrimony. Ivy owed me nothing, nor I her, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling I had wronged her and deeply regretted that I may be taking that to my grave with me.

Enough! I slammed the box shut and reached angrily to the nightstand and poured myself out a stiff measure from the bottle whiskey upon it, gulped down the burning liquid, savouring the fire in my throat, as mentally I commanded myself to pull myself together. I moved to the window, to look out over the bustling London streets below. My resolve stiffened I put all thoughts of women behind me and with a glance at the box, knew that whatever happened I was not about to run out on Blackheart. I would make the drop, hope it goes as planned, and well if it was to be the last thing I did, well I would go out with a smile on my lips. I had enjoyed a good life, the war aside, and knew full well if it wasn’t for Blackheart, I wouldn’t have survived 1915. All the other adventures since would never have happened, the places I had seen, the things I had experienced, the highs, the lows, none of that would have been, I would have simply been another name on a memorial, my body rotting in a no man lands shell hole. No, I owed Blackheart everything and I would be damned if I would let him down now.

I closed the box, obscuring the Coils from sight, and wrapped a decorative bow about it. My final act was to place the box in my case, beneath some of my clothes, then pushed the case to the back of the hotel room’s wardrobe. With nothing else to do until the afternoon I went out. An early lunch and a quick pint beckoned.

Two hours later, I got out of my suit and put on a worker’s overall, with the name of a baker’s emblazoned upon my chest, and a flat cap pulled down upon my head, I picked up the cake box, and with it cradled beneath my arm, left he hotel. I walked a quarter of a mile to a discrete lock-up, where I retrieved a push bike, which had the same baker’s name on a plaque fixed beneath the crossbar, and a basket upon its front, into which I placed the box. Fixing cycle clips to the bottom of my trousers I mounted the bike and began the two-mile cycle ride to a quiet suburban street, looking like any other delivery man on his rounds. I pedalled slowly along the street, until I reached number 49 in the centre of the row. I stopped, swung myself off the bike, which I rested against the low garden wall at the front of the house. I removed the box, and once again with it cradle within the crook of my left arm, opened the gate, and walked smartly up the garden path and knocked upon the door.

A moment passed before the door opened, a young boy looked up at me and said ‘Yes?’

‘Marchant’s Bakers, I have a delivery for Mrs Marchant. Is that your mother?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’ Said the boy.

‘Can you get her for me?’ I smiled.

‘MA!’ the lad shouted and darted inside, as a voice from within replied, ‘If that’s the baker could you be a dear and bring the cake in.’

‘Of course,’ I called back, stepped inside closed the door behind me. I hadn’t expected a child to be present and wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but it was too late to back out now.

The kitchens in these places were usually at the rear of the house so I headed down the hall, at the end of which the kitchen door was ajar, so I stepped through to be greeted by a nervous looking woman sat upon a chair, two large men in trench coats stood either side of her. Before I could turn and bolt, the kitchen door was closed behind me, a large police constable barred my way. So, it was the Kuàng double cross, at least I wasn’t about to be shot and felt myself relax.

‘Sorry, am I disturbing something?’ I asked, knowing I had to at least play along with the charade even though the outcome was already assured, ‘Because I can come back later.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ said the large man on the left. He was broad shouldered, sported a bushy moustache on a round face. A lazy right eye and a scarred cheek that pulled the right side of his mouth downwards, gave him a lopsided look, ‘You can put the box upon the draining board, then step away.’

I looked to the woman and said ‘Mrs Marchant, are you okay?’ I tried to brazen it out, but the lopsided man was having none of it.

‘Just put the package down sir. Wouldn’t want things to get nasty now, would we?’

Something in his tone suggested he very much wanted things to turn nasty so without another word I stepped across to the sink, placing the box upon the draining board as requested. ‘Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll be off.’ I smiled and turned as though to leave, only to find my way blocked by the large constable.

I turned back to face the lopsided man, and as I did so, felt the policeman behind me place a heavy hand upon my shoulder. It was clear they had no intention of letting me go anywhere. ‘Mike, check the box.’ said the lopsided man to the other trench coated fellow stood the other side of Mrs Marchant.

Mike, younger than lopsided, with clear grey eyes and a light pencil thin moustache stepped over to the cake box, deftly undid the ribbon and flicked the box open. I could see his eyes light up as he reached in and lifted out the Coils of the Anaconda.

‘Well, well, well, that’s a very interesting cake I must say, bake it yourself?’ Said lopsided with that sarcastic manner they must teach all policemen on their first day of training, ‘I think you’d break your teeth if you tried eating that. What say you, Mike?’

‘Yes Sir. Very painful, be straight down to the dentist.’ Mike answered, his voice flat.

‘I don’t know about you Mike, but I don’t think I could afford to shop at this baker. Their cakes look far too rich for my tastes.’

Behind me the constable guffawed. Blimey, I thought, they must give all coppers some strange humour bypass, so they only laugh at things clearly not funny. I really, really wanted to say something sarcastic back, unfortunately nothing sprang to mind. No doubt hours later when languishing in a cell so pithy comeback would present itself, too late to be of any use. Though saying nothing probably stopped me getting a minor beating, which judging by the evil stare I was receiving from lopsided he was looking for any excuse to mete out some personal justice upon me. And I could understand that the police had been getting a rough ride from the press since Blackheart took the Coils from the museum, and they probably wanted some retribution against those that had caused their embarrassment.

Time paused momentarily as the pair of us stared at each other, then with a cold smile Lopsided said, ‘You’re under arrest sonny.’

‘It’s a fair cop.’ I said and compliantly held out my wrists so the constable could handcuff me. Half an hour later I was in the back of a police cart, the constable and Mike sat either side of me as I was taken away to who knows where.


Chapter 26 – Change of Plan.

I bounced uncomfortably in the back of the police van as it bowled across London, bells clanging, ensuring everyone got out of its way. I said nothing during the journey, just stared down at my feet. Eventually the bouncing and clanging stopped as the vehicle came to a standstill, and I was half pushed, half dragged from the back of it.

I had only a moment to look about me before I was bundled through a back door into some non-descript police station. Given what it was they thought we’d stolen, I thought I would have been taken to Scotland Yard, but it seemed not to be the case.

Normal procedure would be to have me brought before the duty desk officer, where I would have my particulars taken down, have any personal belongings removed before being marched off to a cell where I would be thrown inside and left to sweat on my own fears until such time as they wanted to rough me over, or drag me to some room to begin interviewing me about whatever it is they thought I had done. However, for whatever reason, they skipped the first step and hauled me straight into a dim bare brick room with a single table, two chairs either side, with a single light dangling above. The light was also dim, giving the room an air of foreboding, which I was in no doubt was the effect they were going for. I was pushed down on to one of the seats, told to wait, and still cuffed, left to my own devices.

I didn’t see any reason to pace about, that would just tire me out, so instead I shuffled my chair forward to I could rest my arms on the table and my head upon my arms, and promptly dozed off. I was awoken rudely as the door to the room was banged open, startling me from my nap. For a moment, disorientated, I wasn’t quite sure where I was or how I got here, but as I craned my head around to see what had caused the noise, I saw Detective Sergeant Hawkes filling the doorway, and with a vicious snap all my memories came back to life.

I said nothing, just remained in my twisted position staring at the detective, who looked over his own shoulder to someone stood behind him and said, ‘You have ten minutes, then we move.’ I didn’t hear any reply to Hawkes’s statement, but he moved aside and stepping deftly into the room, as bold as brass and in no way looking under duress, came Blackheart.

‘Good evening old Chap,’ he said rather good naturedly, ‘looks like we’re in a bit of pickle.’ Then taking up a chair on the opposite side of the table to me sat down, and with a smile to Hawkes said, ‘That will be all Sergeant, we’ll be done in a minute.’

Hawkes didn’t reply but I heard the door to the room close and the sound of footsteps disappearing into the distance.

‘Blackheart, what the hell…’ I began, but Blackheart shushed me.

‘Things have moved on a pace since we were last together Raif, and I only have a little time to fill you in, so sit quietly and I’ll begin. And do close your mouth, you look like a stunned fish, most unbecoming.’

I could feel my eyes narrow, and my mouth clamp shut, into what I hoped was an angry grimace. But angry or not Blackheart either hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care as he began to speak. ‘Turns out old Hawkes isn’t such a bad old stick after all, once you get past all the bluster,’ he began, ‘but that’s not to say he isn’t still a copper and wanting to put someone away for robbing the museum.’ He shrugged as though all this was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Blackheart, that’s all well and good, but what the hell is going on. I thought the plan was…’

‘Ah, ah, aaaaah, no talking of plans. Walls have ears.’ He warned, cocking his head towards the door.

I twisted around to look at the door. It looked solid to me, and I didn’t think, even if someone had their ear pressed upon it on the other side, they’d be unable to make out anything said in here, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to exercise a bit of caution, so I turned back to face Blackheart and nodded slightly to show I understood.

Blackheart smiled and pulled his chair forward so he could rest his arms upon the table. Our faces now only inches apart he spoke quietly, ‘We, as in you and I, are now helping the police with their enquires. For our willing support, and because we were acting as concerned citizens trying to thwart a crime in our own inimitable style, by first committing another crime, misguided as that was, the police will look favourably upon our case, providing they catch the real perpetrators.’

‘And by favourably you mean?’

‘Reduced sentences for the pair of us, possibly no jail time at all, but that’s for another time, and requires us to help Hawkes catch Kuàng.’

‘Hang on, what? If they wanted Kuàng, why didn’t they let us do the handover we wanted, then he’d be in possession of the item when they bust him.’ I was careful not to mention the Coils of the Anaconda by name in-case Blackheart had spun them some completely different tale. ‘I mean we know it would be fake, but at least that would be enough for the Police to arrest him. They would think they’d caught him red handed.’

‘I did try to explain that to the police, but they were not prepared to let the item be handed over to Kuàng and his criminal consorts. They were scared he could have it shifted before they could arrest him.’

‘You do realise now I’ve been arrested, the handover hasn’t taken place, and Kuàng can deny all knowledge of this. He certainly doesn’t need to make any contact with you. The police have done his job for him. They’ve achieved the double cross without having to intervene on his part or make any payment. He’s basically won.’ I snorted flabbergasted.

‘Kuàng still needs it.’

‘But it’s a fake.’

‘Which he is still prepared to pay us handsomely for.’

‘You do know by now he’ll know I’ve been nicked with it in my possession. He’ll just assume the cops have got it and change his plans.’

‘Not quite, because he doesn’t know where I am.’

‘I’m confused.’

‘Good, because if you are, Kuàng definitely is.’ Blackheart smiled deviously.

‘What in God’s name are you up to?’ I demanded coldly.

‘Well, after my meeting with Jimmy I knew things had gotten a little more complicated.

‘How?’

‘Kuàng isn’t the person behind this.’

‘What?’ I snapped, ‘And you’re only telling me this now?’

‘Sorry Raif, but I didn’t find out until you had already made contact.’

‘I put Ivy in danger for this.’ I growled, feeling my anger rising. ‘And Simon’s been abducted, and for what? For who?’

‘Whom.’

‘What?’

‘Not who, whom, have I taught you nothing.’

I could feel my face flushing and a knot of fury gathering in my stomach, yet I pressed it down and calmly, quietly, I hissed, ‘You had better tell me everything now, or cuffed or not I swear, I will kill you.’

Blackheart’s eyes widen with just a hint of shock that suggested to me he realised he may have gone a little too far this time. To placate me he held up his hand, ‘Peace Raif, peace. Ivy is in no danger. I’ve made sure of that.’

‘How?’

‘I invited for the girls to a little sojourn. They are even as we speak thundering across Europe to a lovely little spot on the Amalfi coast and a holiday home owned by yours truly. They are out of it all.’

Although inside I felt a rush of relief, I asked coldly ‘And what of Simon?’

‘Unfortunately, Simon was gotten to before I could do anything for him.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning either Kuàng has him, or Kuàng’s boss, or he’s already dead.’

‘We promised him we’d get him out of this.’

‘And I meant every word I said, unfortunately we too have been played. And before you have a go at me, remember Simon had got himself into this, long before our intervention.’ Blackheart replied honestly.

I wanted to be angry with Blackheart, but he was right, Simon was a part of this before we ever were. You make your choices and take your chances, though I feared Simon’s chances had already deserted him.

I raised my cuffed hands to my face and rubbed my face hard, as though trying to wipe away the predicament I found myself in, futile as that was. ‘So,’ I said after a moment trying to get my thoughts in order, ‘How is it the police are involved and what happens now?’

‘I knew once I had spoken to Jimmy that we were in deeper than I had first envisioned. I knew we needed help and knew the help we needed was not going to come from among our usual associates, so I decided a deal with the devil was going to be our only way out of this.’

‘You mean Hawkes?’ I said, though I was fairly sure Hawkes considered Blackheart the devil in this relationship.

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get Hawkes on board?’

‘I got Jimmy to make an anonymous call to Scotland yard for the ears of Sargent Hawkes only. Jimmy then gave up my name.’

‘That’s why you weren’t surprised when Hawkes turned up to arrest you.’

‘You’re catching on.’ Blackheart beamed at me like a parent watching a child finally manage to ride a bike without stabilisers.

‘When Hawkes got me, I played hard to break for a while, until he threatened to drag my aunt into the investigation, which I knew he would, and used that to pretend to fold. Well, a gentleman cannot let the women in his life take the fall for him now, can he?’ he chortled, ‘Clearly Hawkes expected that, so my crumbling played nicely into his preconceptions of me.’

‘So, Hawkes fell for it?’

‘Hook, line, and sinker. And with him properly baited I spilled the beans, at least the beans wanted him to hear.’

‘Just how close to the truth are those beans?’ I asked.

‘I admitted to taking the Coils, but only because a certain archivist, who was the son of an old family friend, never hurts to play up on the old family ties, men like Hawkes hate that, but it adds colour and a bit more bite to the yarn, had come to me for help as he was being blackmailed.’

Good god, I though, he’s loving every second of this, and yet poor old Simon could be strung up on a meat hook for all we knew right now. At that moment I wanted to throttle Blackheart, but powerless to do so I let him continue.

‘Obviously, I had to help, and so began our little caper to help Simon and bring the blackmailer to justice when all this was done.’

‘And Hawkes believed you?’

‘Not at first. But when I explained how we’d pulled off something similar for King and Country during the war, although dubious, he accepted it. Also, he gets it really. He understands how those that survived tend to be self-sufficient and sort out problems themselves.’

‘Then how does that explain my involvement?’

‘Naturally, you as my erstwhile friend and confidant offered to help, because as a man of honour could do nothing else.’

I shook my head in disbelief,’ If Hawkes fell for that guff, then he’s not as smart as I gave him credit for.’

‘You know me, I can very persuasive.’ Blackheart smiled, his eyebrows arching mischievously.

‘Oh, good god, so what happens now?’ I asked, fearing the answer.

‘Ah, well, that’s where it all gets a trifle complicated. So, we only have a few minutes before Hawkes comes back, so listen and listen well, our freedom, and probably our lives depend upon it.’

As Blackheart spoke, I listened intently and with every passing sentence felt hands of doom wrapping themselves around my guts. To get out of this was going to take a bloody miracle.


Chapter 27 – Tango.

Neither I, nor Blackheart, are good men. We have both killed, destroyed, cheated, stolen, embezzled, duped, and tricked our way across Europe and the middle east. Some of that was in service to King and Country, and for that some of our exploits would be attributed as actions of heroes. But, in truth, nothing we had ever done was heroic, and during our service we had always kept one eye on the gains we could reap for ourselves and damn what King, country or our immediate superiors may have desired of us. The only redeeming quality we could claim, we never stole from those who could not afford it. The common man was safe from us. Still, hardly a roll call of honour.

Now, despite this dearth of honour, we were expected to behave as though we were paragons of the highest virtue. The front we had to present to Detective Sergeant Hawkes was that of gentlemen who, in attempting to do the right thing, had unwittingly been caught up in criminal acts, good men who had simply taken the wrong step. Why DS Hawkes should fall for such nonsense was beyond me. Some of Britain’s worse deeds in history had been perpetrated by those calling themselves gentlemen. If I was being honest with myself, I was not convinced Hawkes had fallen for our story, but as a pragmatic copper he was willing to overlook our obvious guilt to snare a bigger villain. The failing of policemen everywhere. The hunter always thinks they are smarter than the prey.

Under Blackheart’s direction Hawkes had been persuaded not to launch a statement claiming he had retrieved the Coils of the Anaconda. Indeed, reading the morning headlines a disparaging piece in the Times was calling into question Hawkes and the whole Metropolitan Police’s competency in its failure to retrieve the Coils and bring those responsible to book. This was surely a bitter pill for Hawkes to swallow but swallow it he did.

In furtherance of Blackheart’s plan, I had been released from Police custody as had my fence, Mrs Marchant. The pretext of our release, that I never had the Coils upon me. In my guise as a free man, I was to frequent venues known to be frequented by Kuàng or his associates to make it obvious I was not in the clutches of the police. What I was not to do, under any circumstances was to approach any of Kuàng’s people. It was also key that Hawkes put some of his men to follow me in such a way that suggested they were trying extremely hard to be inconspicuous but in doing so to be anything but. This was to enforce the notion the police were onto me but had nothing on which they could hold me. In short, I was a distraction.

With all eyes upon me Blackheart was working in the shadows. Doing what I was not a party to, so I merely played my part. A full week later, and aware Hawkes was beginning to doubt the wisdom of letting the pair of us loose, things changed. It was Friday, and I figured I should frequent the Albemarle club where I had first met with Kuàng. I had no idea if he were going to be there, and even if he were if he’d have any time for me. Inside the band were swinging, bright young things danced the night away, drank and smoked. I cadged a couple of dances with some young ladies, made some small talk, but did not push my luck, I wasn’t here to score, only be seen, so I allowed myself sometime to relax and enjoy the club’s ambience. It was as I rested casually against the bar, sipping a whiskey and enjoying a cigarette, that a slim, dark haired oriental lady, in a figure-hugging burgundy Cheongsam silk cocktail dress, slit to the thigh with a hard stare and lotus flower set in her hair brushed passed me, and as she went by whispered, ‘Ask me to dance.’ And disappeared into a darkened corner of the club.

I did not follow immediately, because, well, I had a cigarette and drink to finish, plus the band was already halfway a tune, and it does not do one any favours to ask a lady in the midpoint of a song, even if said lady asks you to. The band finished, and as they flipped their music sheets to the next song I walked steadily over to the corner where the lady waited, with two others of a more European ancestry. ‘May I have the pleasure of this next dance?’ I asked, holding out my hand two her, deliberately ignoring the two ladies she was with. She smiled thinly and held out a gloved hand allowing me to take it. Hand in hand I led her to the dance floor, just as the band struck up a waltz. Our left hands entwined together, her right rested lightly upon my shoulder, my right placed lightly upon the small of her back. Moving in time to the music we circled the dance floor. She was light, slender, at least a foot shorter than I and moved with grace I simply did not possess.

For the first circuit neither of us spoke, as we reached our initial starting point, I changed the angle of our movement to cut diagonally across the floor, to pass between gently spinning couples. As we reached the middle of the dance floor I asked boldly, ‘May I know your name?’

‘You may call me Daiyu.’ She replied demurely.

‘Well hello Daiyu, I’m Raif.’ I smiled.

‘I know who you are, as does my master.’ Well that cut the niceties short, ‘He wishes to know do you still have the item?’

The question threw me a little, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to still have it or not, or whether the ruse was Blackheart had it in his possession far away from me, damn, it’s always the tiny details that catch one out. The fact the item was still very much in the care of His Majesty’s officers of the law was unimportant, it was the story that mattered. ‘Well not on me,’ I quipped, the cold stare I received as she turned her head sharply with the music, told me Daiyu was not dancing with me for her own pleasure but that this was business, ‘But I can put my hands on it easily enough.’ I answered with my most disarming smile. Well, it was sort of true.

‘He still wishes to make the trade.’

‘And so do I.’

‘That is good. He will be happy.’

‘You do know the police are still watching me.’

‘We do, which is why we will inform you where, when and how to make the exchange.’ She said without any indication that anything was up for negotiation. Just then the music stopped, and we parted slightly so we could politely applaud the band before they struck up their next number. Daiyu didn’t move away from the floor but waited for the band to start again, a tango, unperturbed we took up our dance holds, closer, tighter, and as this was the one dance I had always had an affinity for, I led Daiyu with confidence and command, whether she approved I could not tell for she kept her expression fixed, emotions hidden away. At our first cross step Daiyu said ‘At the end accept my flower.’ I said nothing, from then as we parted slightly as our hips opened as we moved into an open step we said no more, simply gave ourselves over to the dance. To the casual onlooker it may have looked passionate, it may have looked intense, it may have ruffled the sensibilities of some, but we both danced it as though it was combat, both seeking to gain the upper hand, she with her greater skill, me with my greater strength and power. For all to brief a time all my concerns, fears, worries dissipated as my entire world became me, Daiyu and a tango, nothing else mattered. As the music ended so we stopped, held together in a dip, for a moment longer than was proper, as we stared intently at each other, breathing hard. I took a deep breath and straightened, raising Daiyu. As we returned to the vertical, I released my hold upon her, taking a small step back, bowed, my eyes never leaving hers. She in turn gave the slightest of curtsies, removed the Lotus flower from her hair, where no longer pinned in place her hair fell across her shoulders and down her back in one shimmering black cascade. Daiyu handed me the lotus flower and without another word left me and the dance floor behind. I was still there, alone as the next tune struck up, suddenly conscious of various couples skipping past me, a took myself from the floor and back to the bar.

I carefully placed the flower in my inner suit pocket, ordered another drink and took some time to calm myself, even turning down a few other offers of a dance. Eventually I allowed myself to dance with others, though nothing the rest of that night matched the intensity of that tango. Eventually, hot, tired, and beginning to feel the affects of one too many whiskeys I left the club, hailed a cab, and took myself off back to my hotel room.

As I stepped inside, I had half nurtured an illicit hope that I would step inside and find Daiyu waiting for me, beneath silken sheets, but sadly my room was dark, empty, and devoid of Daiyu or any other female distraction. Only, next morning would I realise that all thoughts of Ivy, which had been filling my head lately, had been pushed aside by thoughts of a slender Chinese lady by the name of Daiyu. Thank God Blackheart hadn’t been here, he would have delighted at my discomfort at my own inability to maintain even a passing loyalty to one woman. It was good Blackheart had sent Ivy away, in the end I would only betray her for another, likely sooner rather than later. Ivy deserved better than I.

Pushing my own nagging guilt aside I took the lotus flower from my suit pocket and examined it closely. Holding it up, looking at the stem, I could see it was in fact hollow, and tucked inside a sliver of paper. I took it out and rolled it flat. In a small precise hand, which I could barely make out, instructions, none of which made any mention of the Coils or Kuàng by name. If I had learned one thing about Kuàng, he was careful.

I carefully folded the paper, and taking my right shoe, clicked my heel open, to reveal a small void, where small items could be hidden. I placed the note inside, clicked the heel shut, and decided to get cleaned up and get breakfast, as I decided what to do next.


Chapter 28 – Tramps and the Lady.

Night time, London, hot, sticky, and with the very real threat of rain hanging in the air. Despite the late hour I stood, sweating, shrouded in shadow, the light from the gas lamps barely touching me as I loitered under a low railway arch, near Kings Cross station. The row of arches was grimy, the floor filthy and supplying rudimentary shelter to a collection of homeless vagabonds, strays, the mentally scarred and other human detritus the world had decided it no longer had any interest in.

No one bothered me. The wretches who lived here viewed me with suspicion at first, then with complete disregard. I was not one of them, but I was also not offering them any threat, and I am sure they had seen more than one clandestine meet in their time, and so knew better than to bring undue attention to themselves. These were the lost, and most preferred to stay that way, and the easiest way to achieve that was to remain faceless and uninvolved with those that were part of society.

I checked my watch for the umpteenth time, wondering if Blackheart had got my message and considering how much longer I should give him, when a stooped figure shuffled out of the night, swaddled in enough rags that it rendered the person shapeless, and I wondered how they stood the heat wrapped up as they were on a summer’s night like this. The figure came towards me, and I was about to usher it away with an impatient hand when a coarse voice from within the rags asked “You Mortis?’

‘Might be, who’s asking?’ I replied sharply.

‘Either you is, or you isn’t. No skin off my nose.’ The figure made to shuffle off, apparently uninterested in my answer.

‘Wait,’ I said, ‘I’m Mortis. Who sent you?’

The figure stopped moving and shuffled back towards me. In the dark I couldn’t see the face, though the pungent smell rising from the filthy clothes was almost enough to choke a man. I swear I hadn’t smelt anything that bad since the war. ‘If you’re Mortis, the one called Blackheart says you’d know what to do.’

‘Do?’

‘Do. To prove you are who you says you are.’ The voice rasped.

Oh, good god, I thought, not that again as I stared at the strange figure. ‘Do you really need me to do that?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’ The voice cackled, ‘Give us a show.’

If it wasn’t for the dark anyone watching would have seen my face harden into a scowl and my eyes roll angrily, but I said nothing and moved out from my place beneath the arch to stand beneath one of the weak street lights. I paused, and as I did so got the sense that, out there in the darkness, faces had tuned to watch me. Swallowing my embarrassment, I bowed to the crowd, imagined or real, and launched into a rendition of I’m a little Teapot, complete with actions and at the top of my voice.

When I finished, I bowed again, this time with more of a theatrical flourish and waited. If I had expected heartfelt applause, I would have been sorely disappointed as instead my impromptu performance drew jeers, a few guffaws, and some very ripe language. Oh well, everyone’s a critic, I thought, and stepped away from the light. Cackling the mound of foul smelling rags approached, and from within its depths a dirty hand appeared holding a ticket stub. ‘Here you go guv, you earned it. Take it to Victoria.’ It’s task complete the shambling mound disappeared into the night still cackling.

I stepped back into the feeble light, squinting at the stub. It looked like a left luggage stub, well I knew what was required of me next, though I doubted I would be able to retrieve anything at this late hour, so I decided to call it a night, but before I went, I made my way over to three men I had spied earlier. They were about my age, though at a passing glance you would have sworn they were much older, and though they were all dressed in mismatched clothes, they had one thing in common, a haunted stare I had seen a thousand times at the front. I moved carefully towards them, not wanting to spook them. As I approached, they looked at me wearily, physically shrinking into themselves, too damaged to flee, held captive to their nightmares.

I smiled and reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet and handed each of them a pound. Two of them looked at me uncomprehending, the third, who seemed a little surer of himself, bobbed his thanks, and still bobbing said ‘Thank you sir, gawd bless ya sir.’

‘Make sure you all get a good meal inside you. Especially him,’ I said with a nod to one of the three who was almost skeletal. ‘Don’t blow it all on booze.’

‘Yes Sir, will do Sir.’

‘I’m no sir.’ I said honestly, ‘But I am trusting you to look after those two soldier.’

The third man straightened slightly when I used the word soldier, a forgotten spark of pride still left trying to force its way to the surface.

‘Don’t you worry about that. A man don’t let his oppos down.’

‘Good man.’ I said and left them be and hoped the third hadn’t noticed the treacherous tear that welled in my eye as I turned away. A land fit for heroes to return to they had promised when we had marched off to war, just another lie on top of all the others we had been fed as we went off to hell.

In the morning I was up and out early, slipping out via the service entrance around the back of the hotel. Today it wouldn’t pay to be followed by anyone. To confuse any who may be trying to keep tabs on me, I spent the first of the day bus, tram and underground train hopping. I must have covered most of London come midday. Finally, convinced I had long lost any tail I may have picked up, I relaxed. I slowed my pace and took the time to walk the last mile of my circuitous route to Victoria station.

At the left luggage I handed over the stub and was handed a nondescript brown case in return. I found a quiet corner in the station, sat down, flipped the catches, and took a look inside. My heart sank, inside was packed my army dress uniform, and that could mean only one thing, I was going to some ex-regimental function, and that in turn meant, more than likely, I was to be re-united with Major Harvey Campbell, soldier, hero, fence, cad, bounder, and possibly the most overly egotistical, self-obsessed man I ever had the misfortune to meet. A long, dull evening beckoned. Inside the case, along with my uniform, was an invite, on good paper, embossed in gold leaf, and written in a florid script, requesting my attendance and a plus one at the summer ball to be held in the grounds of Windsor Castle. Clipped to it was another card that held a number, name and instruction to call at least a day before the ball, which was scheduled for two days from now.

I closed the case with a sigh. Sometimes working with Blackheart was the equivalent of being on a never-ending treasure hunt. It would be nice if, just once, we could do something direct and to the point, without the endless run-around.

I filled the rest of the day with some aimless wandering, enjoying the summer sun and the general bustle of London before finally returning to the hotel. I didn’t head straight in, being seen with the case would have only raised unwanted questions. As a precaution I hovered around the back until one of the page boys appeared for a smoke. For a tip of a six-pence he agreed to take the case off me and take it up to my room. Case free I looped back around to the main entrance, where in full view of anyone who may have been watching for me, I strolled up to the doorman to have a friendly chat, then bounded inside like a man without a care in the world.

I didn’t see any reason to delay on making the call to the number instructed, which turned out to be the number for my allotted plus one to the ball. It was nice of Blackheart to consider all requirements, because if he hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I could have rustled up a plus one at such short notice, at least not one that would have been right for this type of event. It had to be a lady who could move in polite society, know how to feign interest in what was likely to be a very stuffy affair, and be trusted not to divulge anything overheard that may not be quite within the confines of the law. It had to be a lady who could move in polite society, know how to feign interest in what was likely to be a very stuffy affair, and could be trusted not to divulge anything overheard that may not be quite within the confines of the law.

The morning of the ball I breakfasted well, as I knew from earlier events, the afternoon would only provide the most light and un-filling of fare, and that we would, in all likelihood, be starving by evening. I spent the rest of the morning getting my dress uniform up to scratch, then dressed. Looking at myself in the mirror I reflected that Lieutenant Raif Mortis did look every part the gentleman soldier, what a transformation from my original soldiering as Pte. Butcher.

I had cab pick me up from the hotel and take me to an address in Chiswick I had visited before. On arrival I hopped from the cab and strode to the front door, cap placed respectfully beneath my arm, knocked upon the door and waited. The door opened where I found myself facing the grinning maid, Janice, who stepped aside to let me into the hallway, where she informed me, she would fetch the Mistress. Good to her word she returned with Lavinia, and my breath was far taken away. Last, I had seen her she had been barely dressed, then not dressed at all. Now she was a study in elegance. Adorned in a black and silver evening dress, which plunged in a deep V to just above the belly button, and a hemline that coupled with the slim black shoes with the high heels accentuated the shapeliness of her legs, she looked simply stunning. About her neck she wore a black choker from which a single pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat, and, still eschewing the latest fashion for short hair, Lavinia’s blonde locks were lightly curled and held back from her face with a black headband accessorized with a single silver feather attached via an ornate silver clasp.

‘Devlin told me to dazzle.’ She said with a smile, and gave me a demur twirl, beguiling me with the full effect.

‘My lady,’ I replied with a lump in my throat, ‘you do far more than dazzle.’ At which point words failed me. I am sure had Blackheart been here, he would have lavished praise upon praise in the most eloquent of terms, sadly my vocabulary was not up to the task, and so I merely stared, stunned into silence. Lavinia didn’t seem to mind, twirling once more laughing playfully, as the hem of her dress flared out artfully.

Janice appeared with a light satin shawl, also black and silver, which I took and placed about Lavinia’s shoulders, ‘Shall we? Your ride awaits.’ Lavinia smiled and took my arm, allowing me to lead her to the cab.

As we made our way to Windsor we relaxed chatting amiably about stuff and nonsense. Only, when we could see Windsor Castle approaching in the distance did Lavinia turn to me and with a glint in her eye ask, ‘So, who do I need to distract.’, to which I replied, ‘Everyone Lavinia, everyone.’


Chapter 29 – The Major and the Enchantress.

The summer ball had begun with some style. Young soldiers in crisp dress uniforms greeted Lavinia and I at the gate, taking our invites and allowing us into the grounds. At every turn a soldier was on hand to guide us on our way, till after walking beneath a verdant canopy of bent tree boughs we stepped into a large open space, of crisp, closely cropped lawns, well-tended colourful flower beds, arranged in pleasing symmetrical shapes, and at its centre a large marquee. All-around men in uniform milled about with their ladies stood dutifully alongside.

Drink flowed, canapés were served, and a bubble of light-hearted chatter filled the air. I turned to Lavinia and said, ‘Shall we?’ offering my arm.

Taking it lightly she beamed an enchanting smile and replied with polished vowels ‘I rather think we should.’.

Compared to the healthy, fresh-faced young soldiers in their all too new uniforms waiting on, the guests wore their uniforms like a second skin, while their faces and bodies carried the marks and scars of battle picked up in the service of that uniform.

As we moved towards the Marquee, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray, I was pleased to see that Lavinia was garnering admiring glances from the men and less appreciative glares from their women. Even though I knew this was no more than an act, I could not help but bask in Lavinia’s reflected glory and had to fight off the smug grin I felt trying to plant itself upon my face.

At the Marquee, we gave our names, were formally introduced by the Sergeant at Arms, and from that moment began to mingle. Some there I knew, some I did not, but as with every such ball it didn’t matter if you knew anyone or not. Everyone shared stories of where they served, compared notes of people you may have known, or at least known how they fared now, or, how they died. Then it was talk of what one was doing now, and how well they were doing. It’s a funny thing, but no one ever stated they were broke, or unable to hold down a job, or suffered from excruciating pains from old wounds, or how they couldn’t sleep without waking in a cold sweat after reliving the horror of the trenches for the umpteenth time. No, everyone, if they were to be believed, were in tip top condition old boy, and jolly tickety-boo. After a while the ladies separated to gather, happy to be away from the menfolk and talks of business and war, where they could size each other up, offer veiled barbs by way of compliments, and to determine the pecking order of which lady out ranked the other.

I had just finished my third drink and stepped away from a one-eyed 1st Lieutenant I had known from my time in Mesopotamia, when a hand tapped me on the shoulder, turning I found myself in the presence of the very blonde, very dashing, Major Harvey Campbell.

‘Well, well, well if it isn’t my old Mucker Raify, how you doing fella?’

‘Harvey.’ I nodded, repressing a grimace, ‘Not bad, thanks. And you?’

‘Can’t complain, can’t complain, though judging by that ravishing filly you turned up with, I think I am maybe not doing as well as you. Are you two, you know?’

I chose not to answer him directly, better to let him fixate on Lavinia, and the best way to do that was keep him guessing on our relationship and whether he had any chance to steal in there like some latter day Casanova. ‘And what fine lady are you here with?’ I asked nonchalantly.

Harvey sighed, ‘A young Deb actually. Melisa Harlow, of the Kingston Harlows?’

‘Sorry, can’t say I know her.’

‘Lovely girl, young, bright with great prospects, her old man is loaded, but…’

‘But?’

‘Dull as dishwater. All she talks about is this ball and that ball and what her friends will be wearing, dear god, a man can only take so much. You know me Raif, I crave excitement.’

‘So, why you with her.’

‘Family pressures, sure you understand. The old duffer is threatening to cut me off lest I settle down and do something respectable.’

‘Hence Melisa?’

‘Well, if one is going to have to settle, might as well settle for something with money and good childbearing hips. Not like you though, eh, your lady positively oozes excitement and, dare I say it, has an air of naughtiness that suggests anything except respectability.’ Harvey practically leered as he again stared to where Lavinia was chatting to two younger, yet much dowdier women, who by the way they held themselves in her company knew they were in the presence of a superior specimen.

‘Well, we each make our choices.’ I replied flippantly, ‘But, I believe we have some business to conclude.’

‘Of course, of course, but later. No need to sully such an event with seedy affairs of money.’

For once I agreed with Harvey, and with a smile chinked glass, ‘Then, as you have shown such interest, let me introduce you to my fine lady. Be rather amiss of me not too.’ I smiled. Judging by the look on Harvey’s face he couldn’t decide if he was excited or possibly affronted that I was to shove my apparent good fortune in his face. Still, he didn’t resist and so I crossed over to where Lavinia was still holding court with the two younger women.

‘Oh, hello darling,’ she said giving me a beaming smile and lent in to give me a loving peck on the cheek. ‘I was just telling these two lovely ladies about our trip to Casablanca and the wondrous souks.’

I had to admire Lavinia it seemed she had come up with a whole back story for us but introduced it into the conversation with such aplomb it was simple to play along.

‘Ah yes, Casablanca. I do miss it so, it has such a vibrant atmosphere. And the spices in the souks.’

‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen them for myself. They have literal sacks of cinnamon and paprika and cumin, on display like we have apples. And, they do make for some of the most exciting food I have ever tasted.’

‘Truly,’ I agreed brimming with enthusiasm, for after my time serving on the African campaign and in the middle east, I knew of what I spoke, ‘Ladies I cannot recommend enough you and your gentlemen take a trip to the dark continent. So much to see and enjoy. Trust me, it will be a trip of a lifetime.’

‘And ladies, the African sun does wonders for your men, if you know what I mean.’ Lavinia squeezed my arm and rewarded the two women with a smile and a wink, which couldn’t have been more overt even had she wanted it to be. Poor Harvey almost spat his drink out at that. The two women blushed deeply, and eyes desperately averted so they didn’t have to look at me they scuttled away all a fluster.

‘Lavinia, please may I present my old friend Major Harvey Campbell.’

Lavinia smiled and held out her hand, which Harvey took and never taking his eyes from hers bent and kissed. ‘A pleasure, I’m sure.’ Said Lavinia demurely.

‘The pleasure is all mine.’ He grinned, and I wondered if I had made a mistake in bringing hm into Lavinia’s sphere, when a young woman, pretty, but gauche, bounded up, clasped Harvey’s arm and pressed herself against him, regarding Lavinia with undisguised hostility, ‘Harvey dear, aren’t you going to introduce us?’ she snapped primly.

‘Of course, dear,’ he said with an exaggerated eye role aimed at me, ‘This is my old friend Raif Mortis and his lady Lavinia. At least, I assume you are his lady, I’m not seeing a ring.’ He said slyly.

Well, well, the old dog didn’t miss a trick did he. Fortunately, Lavinia didn’t miss a beat and answered with a warm smile, though her eyes belied a frostiness behind the response, ‘An easy mistake to make. We are indeed together, this fine gentleman saved me from the depths of my despair. I’m afraid I did not take the death of my Husband well, which I know for a true born English woman, is not acceptable, but I have always been a slave to my emotions, and they rather got the better of me. Raif, though, darling that he is, saw past my overwrought self, understood my grief and helped me through, as I helped him, I hope, through his. We are both victims of the War. But I am babbling, just like some old washer woman, how very deplorable. Please Harvey dear, who is this exquisite creature with you.’

Blimey, I thought, Lavinia used flattery like a surgeon used a scalpel, instantly dissecting a person’s insecurities and healing their battered ego, instantly winning them over with just the right word and inflection. Harvey’s date was no more immune to Lavinia’s charm than anyone else, and simply blossomed at being referred to as exquisite, instantly warming towards Lavinia, and not waiting for Harvey to introduce her said ‘Melisa Harlow.’

‘Oh, of the Kingston Harlows?’ asked Lavinia

‘Why yes,’ Melisa beamed, ‘You have heard of us?’

‘But of course, dear. Your father is a shining beacon of modernity helping to steer our rather staid government forward, rather than looking backwards to a world since lost. And you do him proud young lady.’

If she had been a cat Melisa would have been purring and rubbing her face lovingly against Lavinia’s legs.

‘Let’s leave these two gentlemen to reminisce about, whatever it is men feel the need to reminisce about, while you fill me in on the latest scene in London. I’m sure you must know all the best places to go and the juiciest of gossip.’ Lavinia expertly steered Ms Harlow away with just the gentlest of nudges and a winning smile, which the girl followed utterly entranced, and as she went, I could already hear her start to witter about the best places to go, and had she heard about the scandal in Kensington. Lavinia spared me a glance over her shoulder as she moved the young girl away, and with a playful arching of the eyebrow, turned away and lavished her full attention upon the Harlow girl.

‘Raif, I must again congratulate you on your woman, she is, is, an enchantress.’

‘Harvey, you wouldn’t believe the half of it.’ I laughed.

‘Try me old man, I would love to hear, every, sordid detail.’ He gazed slavishly at Lavinia’s retreating form.

‘One day, maybe.’ I promised to help keep him onside, ‘But first we need to discuss, something from a mutual acquaintance of ours?’

Harvey grimaced, ran his finger under his moustache, a sure sign he was getting down to business, ‘I can see you are not going to let this lie.’

‘Business first, then sordid details and drinks to follow.’

‘Our friend warned me you’d be like this. I should have known, you were always the more buttoned up of the two of you. Still, can’t blame a chap for being professional.’ His face creased into a smile, probably the first genuine thing his face had registered all day, if you ignored the obvious lust he had for Lavinia. ‘Very well, but not here. Too many untrustworthy types listening in to things that don’t concern them.’

I didn’t argue and followed Harvey to a quieter corner of the gardens, where we could see anyone approaching us long before they could overhear what was being said.

‘So, do you want the good news or the bad news first.’ Asked Harvey lightly, and I could not tell if he was joking or not.

‘The good news?’ I said cautiously.

‘Ah, ever the optimist. Good to see you still have that.’

‘And the good news is?’

‘At much cajoling and persuasion by yours truly, my contact in the…, well you’ll understand if I don’t say what, who or how, but I have the copy of what was ordered.’

Well that as least was relief, inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief, outwardly I remained calm and asked, ‘And the bad news?’

‘Ah, yes, well, when I say I have the item, I don’t actually have it to hand.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I know exactly where it is.’

‘But?’

‘But, well, its just, you know how untrustworthy some types are. Simply not gentlemen. I remember a time when a man’s word was his bond.’

‘Harvey!’ I snapped, ‘Where is it?’

‘Right, yes, well, my contact…’

‘The what, who or how?’

‘Yes, him, them, well, they realised what they were making a copy of.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes. Must say it did come as a bit of a surprise to me when they told me, then when I saw the sketch in the newspaper and realised, they were correct, I very nearly ran away there and then. I don’t mind taking a risk or two, but the Coils of the Anaconda? Damn it Raif, what have you two gotten me into?’

‘Nothing you want to get any deeper into, trust me.’ I replied seriously, ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘My what, who or how,’

‘Yes?’

‘They wanted to turn me into the police. Says the reward they would get for me as being complicit in the original’s theft would far outstrip what I was paying them.’

‘I’m guessing by the fact you are here, they didn’t turn you in.’

‘No.’

‘And why was that?’ though I already had an inkling where this conversation was heading, but sometimes one simply has to play along.

‘I told them, firstly, that it would be despicable behaviour on their part. But they just laughed, so then I said if they turned me in, surely questions would be raised as to why I went to them in the first place asking them to make a copy. Surely even our plod could work out their business probably then wasn’t all that legit.’

‘And what did they say?

‘That they had enough contacts to ensure if I talked someone would get me, and that there was nowhere they couldn’t reach me.’

‘You believed them?’

‘Oh yes. This lot may be artists in their field but doesn’t mean they don’t have plenty of unsavoury types who owe them favours, and I fear I would be a very cheap favour to repay.’

I sighed, this really wasn’t getting me anywhere. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘What do they want, if not to turn you in and gather the reward?’

‘They have agreed that the payment for the job remains the same.’

‘Okay, so what’s the problem.’

‘They want the equivalent to the reward to keep their mouths shut and actually hand the item over.’

‘My, what fine, entrepreneurial gentlemen you are dealing with.’

‘Well, that’s one way to describe them.’

I didn’t have time to argue or renegotiate, I was on the clock so needed the fake Coils, ‘Okay, I agree.’ I accepted the situation through gritted teeth.

‘You do?’ Harvey sounded surprised.

‘Yes. So tell me exactly what the cost will be, I will get you the money, and you get me your what, who or how to meet me here,’ I scribbled the address and time on the fag packet I took from my inner pocket, ‘and you’d best tell them they’d better be ready to perform I’m a little teapot or the deals off.’

‘I’m a little teapot?’

Just tell them, they’ll find out.’

Harvey looked at me bemused but held out his hand ‘Okay, consider it done.’

I shook his hand and with a curt nod said ‘Let’s get back to the party, I need a drink.’

‘Now that old boy, is a suggestion I can fully get behind.’

Cursing Harvey and his less than dependable forgers we headed back to the ball, where I would spend the next few hours being forcibly cheery and personable, when all I wanted to do was punch something, mainly Harvey.


Chapter 30 – Visit and Visitation.

It had been a fraught week. I was accosted by DS Hawkes, who was not best pleased with the progress, or rather, the lack of it, of us helping him bring the perpetrators behind the theft at the British Museum to justice. He had also been less than pleased with me attending the ball held for those of us that had served in the Middle Eastern campaign. I was under strict instructions to clear any social engagements with him before they happen, and even though I protested that to maintain my cover I needed to keep my contact with him to the minimum, he was not inclined to agree.

Luckily, he didn’t take it further, but did make it clear that if he didn’t see some progress in the next few days then the deal was off, and Blackheart and I would be dining out at His Majesty’s pleasure for the foreseeable future. The bigger fish, he said, could be someone else’s problem.

Playing the part of someone suitably chastised I resumed my allotted role, which for the Police was to remain visible and make myself approachable to the criminal underworld. All the while I was being bait, and being dogged at every step by the Police, I also had to find time to shake both parties off so I could get my hands upon the copy of the Coils from Major Campbell’s forgers. In the end Lavinia came to the rescue, or to be more precise her maid, Janice, did. While I stayed front and centre in my escort’s gaze, Janice took my role in undertaking the exchange of the cash for the coils. And while I didn’t like the idea of putting her in harm’s way, she proved more than adept at handling herself. Again, with the help of Blackheart’s homeless denizens and the left luggage at Victoria station, the Coils had finally found their way into my possession, or more precisely, Lavinia’s.

At the hotel at which I was currently resident, I knew that any mail delivered to the post box at reception for me, was, without fail, intercepted by the Police. As expected, they had failed to realise I had set up a second box, and with the help of the hotel cleaners and the Concierge, who didn’t take kindly to the Police staking out his operation, acted as a go between for messages that I didn’t want Hawkes to know about. It was through this route that I learned that Lavinia had the Coils and I in-turn informed Blackheart.

The next three days passed without incident, so I spent them with lazy walks around London’s landmarks, as the dirty capital bathed beneath a summer sun. All about me went about their business oblivious to my predicament. By the afternoon of the third day, I was convinced if nothing changed soon Hawkes would have me in-turned. I needn’t have worried, for as I arrived back at my hotel after a day’s meandering, the concierge, palmed me a piece of paper as I passed by. I didn’t so much as bat an eyelid as made my way to the lift. Once in, and guaranteed not overlooked, I opened the slip, it read you have a visitor. Intriguing.

As the lift reached my floor, I left its protected shelter and strolled along the corridor to the door to my room. Inserted the key, unlocked the door letting myself in. As soon as I stepped in, I closed the door and dropped the catch, the last thing I needed was to be interrupted by the police.

I turned to face my room properly, no one was in evidence, but the unmistakable scent of perfume hung in the air. I made my way to the bed and sat upon its edge, ‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘it’s just me, I’m alone.’

The door to the bathroom clicked open and Kuàng’s go between, Daiyu, stepped into the room. Last I saw her she was dressed in a figure-hugging Cheongsam, today, she was dressed as a cleaner, yet even in a drab, shapeless maid’s uniform, with her hair pinned up in a severe bun, it could not detract from her pretty features, which still had the power to entrance.

She bowed respectfully,

‘You well?’ I asked.

‘I am. Thank you for asking. My master has a message for you.’ She replied, instantly business like.

I sighed, this clearly was going to be nothing more than a business meeting, oh well, that at least keeps things simple. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Tomorrow I will return as a maid.’

‘And a damn fetching one at that.’ I beamed, only for her to scowl at my clumsy attempt at charm. ‘Oh well, never mind, go on.’

‘Tonight, when you go to bed you will place a do not disturb notice upon the handle. You will not leave the room.’

‘Hardly sounds like fun.’

‘You will wait until the morning. Around nine am I will knock on your door and announce myself as housekeeping. You open the door, let me in, state you were just leaving and go. As you let me in, drop the required item in my laundry basket. When you have left, I will clean your room.’

‘Really, you don’t need to do that.’

‘Yes, I do, if anyone should check up on me or you, they need to see me behaving as a maid would. Once I have cleaned your room I will leave and take the laundry down to a waiting vehicle, where it, and the item will be removed.’

‘To where?’

‘That is none of your concern.’

‘And our payment?’

‘That will be made as arranged between your master and mine.’

‘Very well.’

‘Then it is arranged.’ She stated, ‘I shall leave now.’

‘No.’ I stopped her.

‘No?’

‘No, it wouldn’t do if they saw you leave my room now, and then the self-same maid returns in the morning. All very suspect.’

‘That is unlikely.’ Daiyu argued, ‘Maids go by unnoticed all the time, what chance they would recognise a Chinese one, we all look the same to you.’

‘While normally you may have a point,’ I conceded, ‘you, Daiyu, are exceptionally beautiful, and trust me when I say men will notice you and recognise you, no matter what disguise you wear. Given all the police watching me are men, and very bored men at that, you are just the thing to make them sit up and take notice.’ Daiyu gave me a calculating look, and was that possibly raised a slight blush, probably not, then again maybe I had just pierced her armour of self-control.

‘Why do you smile so?’ she asked.

Ignoring her question, I replied ‘Let me go down to the bar. Then their eyes are on me away from the room. You can leave when there should be no one watching the corridor and my door.’

Daiyu glared but accented to my request. I asked her to give me ten minutes to wash up and to change into something more appropriate for a drink at the bar, once changed I left Daiyu and my room behind. At the bar I ordered my usual tipple, shared a joke with the barman, then took up a seat and grabbed the day’s papers. I don’t know what time Daiyu left, or if she was seen, but now I had another issue. I had to get to Lavinia’s, get the Coils and get back, and let Blackheart know the exchange was going down tomorrow.

I had a light snack in the hotel restaurant, asked the concierge to hail me a cab, and so as not to seem unhelpful, spoke loudly enough that those with an eye on me knew I was going to Lavinia’s. I heard a few snickers and coarse remarks from London’s finest, who had gotten it into their heads that she was little more than an upper-class whore, and that I was too above myself to frequent London’s more common brothels. I did nothing to assuage their beliefs.

I knew I would be followed and hoped that even if Lavinia was out, her maid would be in and we could make the exchange. As it was Lavinia was in, and to put not too fine a point on it, behaved in just the way my police escort expected her to. I wasn’t complaining. There was something wonderfully freeing about spending time with a woman that merely sought pleasure and distraction and nothing more. No talk of commitments, no talk of meeting the parents, no talk of children. In-fact we barely spoke at all. I gave her my time and the attention she desired, and she had Janice hand over the Coils.

To sneak them out I wore them upon my wrist and forearm in the manner designed, and with my shirt and jacket atop them, you would have been hard pushed to know I had anything beneath them at all.

Before I left, stood in their hallway, where only a brief time ago I had met Janice before finding myself in the lounge of a barely dressed lady of questionable morals, I had a moment of reflection and turning to them both said sadly, ‘I guess this is it. If all goes to plan, Blackheart will have no need to send me to you again. And if it doesn’t go to plan, then I will be in prison, and that will be then end of all. Thank you both, for everything.’ I said, smiling pointedly at Lavinia.

Lavinia stepped forward and pecked me lightly upon the cheek. ‘Thank you for being so, accommodating, and a gentleman about it. Many judge, you do not.’

‘I hardly think I have any place to judge anyone.’

‘Most do not, doesn’t stop them though.’ Lavinia smiled warmly.

‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ Janice exclaimed, ‘what a pair you make. Raif,’ she said completely foregoing any sense of her place in the world, ‘you are welcome here anytime, whether Mr Blackheart requires it or not. She’ll never say it, but I will, call again, soon. Now away with yer or those nice policemen will be thinking we’ve kidnapped you.’

‘Janice, why do I think there is far more to you than meets the eye.’ I grinned.

‘Cheeky.’ She grinned back, ‘Now go.’

I left Lavinia’s place, looking flushed and a little dishevelled and everything the police expected. I took a scenic route back to the hotel, at no pint rushing and at no point behaving like I had the key, a very, very expensive key, to a double cross upon my person. No harm came to me, no one stopped me, no one questioned me. And finally, tired, spent and flushed with excitement and getting one over the Cops I made it to my room. Hid the Coils in a safe place, cleaned up, placed a do not disturb sign upon my door and went to bed. I set my alarm for eight, and as I drifted off to sleep wondered how tomorrow’s exchange would go and imagining all the ways it could go wrong.


Chapter 31 – Unexpected Interventions.

A week had passed since I had conspired with Daiyu to hand over the fake Coils when I was finally called in by Hawkes and Blackheart. I had no idea what had been transpiring in the week following the drop, only that I maintained my cover as a man of leisure enjoying the delights the capital of our great nation had to offer, which was plenty. London was awash with the heady scent of pleasure and abandonment. The old-world rules of restraint and decorum that had been in place in 1914 were now just a distant memory to some, of little or no consequence to those of us who had fought, and naught but a story to those that grew up after. Life was good, and the populace were up to party, well those that could afford it. And even those that could not, still found ways to burn the candle at both ends and in the middle.

It was then, with some level of disappointment, that I greeted the summons to check out of the hotel and report back to Scotland Yard. I allowed myself a final night before leaving and presenting myself to a vexed Detective Sergeant Hawkes and a remarkably relaxed Blackheart.

‘Did you know what he had planned?’ Hawkes pointed an accusing finger at Blackheart, who sat upon a chair grinning smugly.

I looked between the pair of them and decided to play it dumb. ‘Sergeant, I have been watched night and day by your men, my every stepped dogged by their presence. I am sure if Blackheart had so much as sneezed in my direction, they would have been there to wipe it up and haul me back here. So no, I don’t know what he has planned.’

‘Then what do you know of a duplicate Coils that have been, somehow, handed over to the Chinese underworld?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’ I lied with utter conviction. A skill I had perfected during my time with Blackheart.

‘And you expect me to believe that?’ The sergeant bellowed, barely keeping his anger in check.

‘I direct you to my previous answer Sir,’ I said with utmost deference, ‘I was closely observed by your men. Why, I bet they could even tell you at what time I start to snore of an evening and what time I desist. If I knew anything about the Chinese, then by association, so would you.’

Hawkes stared at me, looking for any tell that I was lying to him, but I faced him with nothing but a façade of bemusement, and before that façade cracked Blackheart stepped in.

‘My dear Sergeant, I told you, Raif had nothing to do with this latest development. That has all been down to me.’ He leant back in his chair and lit the pipe he was toying with, ‘To tell you the truth Raif was my unwitting distraction for you.’

‘What?’

‘Please allow me to finish. I have allowed you to concentrate upon Raif, under the false pretence that the perpetrators of the theft would contact him, thus allowing you to apprehend the foul felons.’

‘The perpetrators of the theft?’ Hawkes spun to face Blackheart angrily, ‘You are the perpetrator of that theft.’

‘Well yes, but also no. I was never the man behind this, that is the dubious honour of our Chinese brethren that base themselves out of Limehouse.’

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t have you thrown in chains right now?’

‘Because you’ll lose your chance to capture the real criminals of this sorry affair, and nor will you be able to stop the bloodbath that is about to ensue within the Chinese community.’

‘What do I care for the Chinese?’ Hawkes dismissed the London Chinese with alarming ease.

‘Come now Sergeant, you know as well as I do, that a turf war between the Chinese underworld will spill over into other gangs sensing a power vacuum, and then where will you be? I will tell you where, running battles on the streets, innocents caught in the crossfire. Is that what you want?’

‘Of course not, but…,’

‘No buts Sergeant, I am about to give you your man.’

Hawkes looked to me, I just shrugged. I had no more idea what Blackheart was up to now any more than Hawkes did.

‘Sit down, both of you,’ said Blackheart warmly, ‘and I shall tell all.’

I half expected Hawkes to grab Blackheart by the throat and wring the detail from him, but instead he sighed wearily and sat down heavily, ‘Go on.’ Was all he said, gesturing for me to do the same. I didn’t need to be offered twice, sitting myself down where I could face both Blackheart and Hawkes.

‘Excellent,’ said Blackheart, ‘now where should I begin?’

‘The beginning?’ I ventured

‘Oh tsssh, that would be far too tedious a place to start. Besides you both know that part. No, we need to go forward a little, till when we first placed Raif in the hotel as our erstwhile distraction. And I must say what a sterling job you did.’

‘Err, thank you?’

‘Now, now no need for false modesty Raif, you performed your role with aplomb. And you Sergeant, you went along with it so earnestly, I swear you made my life so much easier.’

‘So glad I could be of assistance.’ Hawkes answered sarcastically.

‘I apologise for my misleading you Hawkes, but I simply couldn’t have a copper breathing down my neck to do what I needed to do.’

‘And what was that?’ Hawkes eyed Blackheart suspiciously, and for which I could hardly blame him.

‘I needed to revive old acquaintances and set up one side of the Chinese underworld for a fall using the other side.’

‘Sounds to me like you are stoking a power struggle, not averting one.’

‘All will become clear sergeant; all will become clear.’ Blackheart waggled his pipe theatrically, causing me an inward grown, we were about to receive the full Blackheart and so I settled myself in for a tale where, if we were lucky, some of it may actually be true.

‘So, I have a friend…’

‘Acquaintance.’ I corrected.

‘Yes, acquaintance, lets call him Jimmy. Now Jimmy, fine upstanding gentleman of the highest honour, sharp as a rake, schooled at the same establishment as I.’

Hawkes turned to me and said, ‘Why do I have a feeling this glowing study in fine upstanding character is going to be followed by a but.’

‘But’ Blackheart smiled, ‘Jimmy also happens to be, through no fault of his own, other than the accident of birth and outrageous fortune, the head of one of the prime Chinese underworld families here in dear old London.’

‘I bloody knew it.’ Snapped Hawkes, a look of thunder creasing his brow.

‘But do not let that concern you Sergeant, you see I approached Jimmy to discuss the Coils and what it means to underworld and what effect would it have should it fall into the hands of one of the family groups. To say it would not be good is an understatement.’

‘Why would a bloody jewellery snake make any difference who possessed it?’

‘Sergeant have not our own lands be riven with war over a thousand years simply for the privilege of wearing the crown. Some may say its just an elaborate, and none too comfortable hat, but we all know its not about what the crown is, but what it signifies. To Jimmy’s people the Coils carry the same significance. Whom so wears the Coils demands fealty from the rest. It has the power to allow a lesser family to elevate itself above the others, or an already powerful family to exert supreme control over the rest. Clearly a thing such as that tends to be fought over. Those with power do not like to lose it and those without tend to crave it.’

‘So what?’ snarled Hawkes, ‘Just tell me who has it and me and the lads will go mob handed to Limehouse and kick in every door till we get it back. I don’t need a history lesson; I need an address.’

‘And that is exactly why I have been working this in the background and not letting you lead sergeant; such behaviour will only end in disaster. The moment you and you men get with a hundred yards of Limehouse, everyone will know of your approach and the Coils will be spirited away, never to be seen again, never that is until the internal fighting that its about to unleash ceases.’

‘You sound pretty certain.’

‘My acquaintance does not want a battle any more than you Hawkes. He likes the power balance as it is. He is not the one the others are looking to topple, nor is he too far down the pecking order that he is the scapegoat for the others, living off their scraps.’

‘So, what are you saying?’

‘Jimmy has agreed to inform me when and where the, how can I put this….’

‘Coronation?’ I ventured.

‘Very good Raif,’ you have been paying attention.

Hawkes looked at me, suspicion once again writ large across his features.

‘Hardly,’ I said. ‘You likened the Coils to a crown, and what you always do with a crown is use it to have a coronation.’

‘Sometimes you all too logical mind does have its uses, though it can drain all the fun out of a story. But yes, you are correct, there is to be a Coronation, and it is at that when we strike and reclaim the Coils and you Sergeant get to apprehend those behind the theft. The main families will throw the thieves to the wolves, leaving them maintaining their current positions and with no reason to begin a fight to consolidate their respective power bases or seek to usurp the others.’

‘You expect me to understand this utter twaddle?’ Hawkes exploded jumping to his feet, his chair crashing over. ‘I should have thrown you sorry hide in prison the moment I first collared you. A coronation, my arse! This has been nothing but an elaborate ploy for you to stay out of prison for just a little longer. What was it, you didn’t want to miss the summer balls?’ Hawkes face flushed dangerously. ‘You are going down for a very long time, where your titles and connections can’t help you. I will see to it that you are locked away with the biggest scum London has to offer. See how far your fancy speeches get you then. Jensen!’

The door to the room opened and a man looking a little flustered stepped in, Jensen I presumed.

‘Rice?’ Hawkes looked perplexed, so clearly not Jensen. ‘Where the bloody hell is Jensen?’

‘Called away Sir by…’

‘Called away? On whose authority? Damn it, I don’t bloody care. Rice arrest these two.’

‘No Sir, you don’t understand, the chief…’

‘Screw the Chief, arrest these two, make sure they are in separate cells well-spaced apart. I don’t want these two conferring about anything, understand.’

‘Err, Sir, I can’t, there’s….’

‘What do you mean you can’t? Do as I bloody order, or I’ll have you busted back into the blue, and you’ll be back walking the beat before the next tea break.’

‘THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH!’ a voice cut through the room from the doorway, ‘And if anyone is screwing anyone here today, I will be the one doing it!’

I turned in my chair to see a man in very extravagant police uniform with enough braid to fill an aisle of Woolworths, draped from his epaulettes. Hawkes visibly blanched at the sight of this man and despite his anger having gotten the better of him, he managed to choke out the words ‘Sir. If I may.’

‘No, you may not. Blackheart old chap good to see you, how is that aunt of yours doing?’

‘Very good thank you Sir. I will tell her you were asking after her.’

Well, that was a turn up for the books, I hadn’t seen that coming, clearly neither had Hawkes, whose face had turned crimson. I could only imagine in his head he was feeling that the gentry were pulling together again to thwart justice, which in a way they were, just not in the way Hawkes may have believed. And before Hawkes could explode with the rage of the common man forever undone by the machinations of his so-called betters, the uniformed gentleman, who was clearly in his fifties, commanded the room regarding everyone through clear, grey eyes said, ‘Hawkes, I believe you near to hear this gentleman out and stepped aside to allow a very dapper fellow, in a fine tailored suit to enter the room and present himself.

‘Good afternoon gentleman, I am Jimmy Wong, and, as I am sure Blackheart has informed you, I am here to inform you of when and where the coronation is to take place, and more importantly of whom.’


Chapter 32 – Statement of Intent.

It was late, and I could feel my eyes getting heavy. I contemplated turning in for the night, Blackheart didn’t seem as willing to give up the night as he played the roulette wheel, at the after- hours gambling den we’d found ourselves in. For once his luck seemed off.

‘Well, that’s dashed annoying.’ He snapped as he again lost his stake.

‘Isn’t it time we turned in? Besides, what are we even doing here?’ I asked.

‘Killing time old boy, killing time.’ He then looked away from me and pushed a pile of gaming chips across the board and to the Croupier said, ‘Middle dozen.’

‘Killing time for what exactly? We’re off the job.’

‘All bets are in.’ announced the croupier who spun the roulette wheel and launched the ball. All eyes fixated upon it and conversation temporarily halted as the ball bounced around the wheel as it began to slow. ‘Black four.’ Declared the croupier as the ball finally came to a halt.

‘Damn!’

‘I think your lucks out tonight, come get a drink.’

Blackheart stood, graciously thanked the croupier, and followed me to the bar, where I ordered us a whiskey each.

‘How much have you lost tonight?’ I asked.

‘Just a trifle.’ Blackheart answered ruefully, causing me to wince, when Blackheart declared a trifle, it usually meant he’d lost a small fortune.

‘We are done here tonight.’ I stated forcefully, ‘We need sleep, you need sleep.’

‘Yes mother.’ Blackheart answered sarcastically.

‘Drink up.’ I said finishing my whiskey, encouraging Blackheart to do the same.

Blackheart looked at me darkly but took up his glass and threw the fiery liquid down with a single gulp. Without saying a word, he got up and headed for the door, I followed. We stopped at the cloakroom to retrieve our coats before stepping out into a dark London side street. It was about two in the morning, an autumnal chill making itself felt. I pulled my collar up, as we walked in silence winding our way back to our hotel.

It had been like this for two months now, ever since Jimmy Wong was introduced to Hawkes, Blackheart and I had been removed from the investigation, our presence no longer required as Jimmy had effectively removed the need for Blackheart and his role of middleman between the police and Chinese underworld. If that wasn’t bad enough Jimmy Wong had reneged on his personal deal with Blackheart, whereby we would operate with Jimmy’s cousins to break the Chinese criminal ring that were planning on using the Coils for their own ends, which was the real aim, the police investigation was just part of Blackheart’s broader deception.

Amazingly, both Blackheart and I had been effectively cleared of all wrong doings regarding the theft of the Coils of the Anaconda, and although I could see that personally pained Hawkes, he was not about to countermand his Chief Inspector, and took the loss of putting us behind bars as a small price to pay for having us out of his hair so he could go after who thought were the true culprits now. As we walked the dark London streets, I reflected that we were, in all senses of the phrase, out in the cold.

This, along with the fact Ma Lè Kuàng had even made payment to us for the initial theft, as per the original contract, should have meant Blackheart and I should have taken this as a win. We should have been happy. We should have been living the highlife in some European hotspot for the wealthy and privileged, sadly that was not the case.

For differing reasons both Blackheart and I felt like we had unfinished business. Blackheart still harboured designs on ensuring those who’d try to double cross and make us their fall guys, despite the fact we’d gotten away with it, were to meet a sticky end. For me I felt a sense of guilt that I could not assuage. The young archivist Simon, we had promised to help had been dragged dead out of the Thames a month back. His death had been put down as accidental, and so was not being investigated, and certainly not by Hawkes whose sole focus was the Coils. But I knew it was Kuàng who’d had Simon killed, and because of my own impotence to prevent that I now felt a need for revenge, payback, justice, call it what you will, but I would not sleep easy until I had achieved it or died trying.

Blackheart was doing his best to distract himself at the gambling tables, I had tried to rekindle my affection for Ivy Pettigrew, who along with Bonny had returned from the Amalfi Coast, but my darkened mood had driven a wedge between us. I knew I should have put more effort in, especially as, against social norms, Ivy contacted me, not the other way around. For a young lady to be so forward, was almost unheard of. But my simmering guilt over Simon’s death tainted that which had potentially the chance to become something genuinely good in my life.

As Blackheart and I strolled along the darkened streets, not talking, lost in our own thoughts, Blackheart suddenly pulled up and growled, ‘This will not stand.’

I looked at him bemused, ‘What won’t?’

‘Kuàng, the Coils, Hawkes, none of it. I won’t let it.’

‘Okay,’ I said, ‘what do you propose we do about it?’

Blackheart sneered coldly, ‘What Raif, are you not going to caution me not to get involved. Point out we have escaped the noose, why put our heads back in.’

‘Right now, I would happily swing if it would give me a crack at Simon’s killer.’

Blackheart, his face stark beneath the halogen glow of a streetlamp, smiled bleakly, ‘Then we are agreed, we shall take on Kuang, and those behind him and damn the consequences.’ It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of action, it did not require an answer from me, and so as he began to walk, he declared, ‘We are going to need help with this.’

‘Anyone in mind?’

‘Kuang’s concubine for starters.’

‘Daiyu?’

‘Yes. Do you think we can turn her?’

‘We will need to offer her something substantial. She won’t betray Kuang on a whim, she has too much to lose.’

‘Okay, well you know what to do.’

I nodded, and a small shiver of fear, not for me but for Daiyu played down my spine. Blackheart and I had turned women against their men during the war, always to our advantage, sadly not always to theirs. Some had paid the ultimate price for aiding us. I did not wish that for Daiyu, but we needed someone on the inside, or we would not be able to pull the strings required. It was something to put oneself in the line of fire, it was something else to place someone else within it, and not something I enjoyed.

‘Anyone else?’

‘We may need some of Mrs Heller’s specialisms.’

‘Understood.’ I said, I didn’t feel it necessary to elaborate on which of her specialisms we may need to call upon. ‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

‘I think I need to call on Jimmy.’

‘Seriously? After he deliberately had you removed from the game; do you think he will tell you anything?’

‘Not directly, not immediately, but if I know Jimmy, he’ll be dying to show off to someone. It was always his weakness, a craving for approval and admiration he never received from his father. He won’t be getting any such affirmation from Hawkes. He doesn’t consider his own people his equal, so no matter how much they fawn over him, their words will mean naught. He needs someone who he can play up to. A peer who can properly understand and admire his machinations.’

‘And you think that is you?’

‘It will be, especially if I show no interest at all.’

‘Really?’

‘Ha, yes. I know what he’s done. If I show absolutely no interest, treat it as a nothing, not so much as a minor irritant it will drive him crazy. With a bit of time, he’ll crack.’

‘How much time?’

‘I think may be three or four chance meetings should do it. I will hang out at some of his clubs, present the most carefree, happy, disinterested front going and I’ll reel him in.’

‘Well, time is the one thing we have. Revenge is a dish best served cold, as they say.’

Blackheart stopped again and turned to face me. ‘They also say when setting out on revenge to dig two graves, one of which is for you.’

If that is the price I must pay, so be it.’

Blackheart nodded grimly, ‘I was going to say you do realise if Kuang or Hawkes gets wind of what we are up to, we will either wind up dead or on indefinite holiday at his Majesty’s pleasure, but it seems you are at peace with those consequences Raif.’

I laughed wearily, ‘I have had a good run. I should have died back in fifteen on that Turk’s bayonet. Thanks to you I have lived more in the intervening six years than the entirety of my twenty-three years prior to that. So, if this is to be my swansong, lets make it a bloody good one.’

Blackheart held out his hand, which I clasped, brothers in arms, ‘I could think of no one better to face the final reckoning with than you.’ Blackheart said in a rare moment of sincerity, ‘Okay, let’s do this.’ He smiled, and whether it was just the reflection of a streetlight I could swear that old devil may care glint was back in his eye. Un-speaking, we walked the final mile to our hotel, bid each other good night and made our way to our respective rooms, lost in our own thoughts.


Chapter 33 – The Proposition.

Daiyu crossed the dance-floor to Kuàng’s table with the grace a Bolshoi ballerina would envy. I hadn’t made my presence known, at least not formally. It had been decided that while Blackheart worked upon Jimmy Wong, I would work upon Daiyu. So far working had consisted of me doing nothing more than turning up at the Albemarle club, where I knew Kuàng liked to frequent, and apart from allowing myself to be seen in the same locale, do nothing other than enjoy myself. I had come here a few times with Lavinia, on one occasion had turned up with a few of the chaps from the club, and on one occasion I had even come here with Ivy, which had been a frosty affair, and decided me that me and Ivy was going nowhere and that I needed to call a halt to that. Tonight, I was here alone.

I had danced with a couple of unaccompanied ladies, but generally I was cutting a more forlorn figure, drinking and smoking by myself. Having watched Daiyu go by I decided to head to the bar. The premise was simple enough, I just had to be noticed by Kuàng, but without me making any direct contact, and to behave as though we’d never met and that there was nothing between us. For now, we required Kuàng to believe that he, Blackheart, and I had parted ways at the conclusion of our business, everyone happy. But, by me being in the same place as him constantly would hopefully pique his interest and that he would, in some way or other bring me into his sphere so I could work an opening to speak to Daiyu.

I had been at the bar long enough to be on my second whiskey old fashioned when a soft swish of silk and a delicate floral scent announced the presence of Daiyu as she sat beside me.

‘Mr Mortis.’ She said formally.

I turned on my seat to face her, smiled, and said ‘Miss Daiyu, may I offer you a drink?’

‘I do not drink.’

‘What, not at all?’

‘Not alcohol.’

‘Fair enough. Then how about a fruit juice or a cordial perhaps?’

‘Why are you here Mr Mortis?’ she regarded me coolly.

I held my glass up to the bar light, letting the glow from the lamp infuse my drink with a warming golden glow, ‘Isn’t obvious?’ I said, ‘Whiskey, women, and occasional dancing.’

‘How easily you lie.’

‘Occupational hazard.’ I ventured.

‘What do you want? My master would really like to know. He doesn’t like to have old business being in the same place as him. It makes him nervous. It is not good to make Mr Kaung nervous.’

‘Mr Kaung can rest easy, I have no business with him here. I will not be troubling him.’

‘There are many clubs in London, why frequent this establishment? Why not take yourself to one of those?’

‘Is that a threat?’ I asked lightly.

‘Merely a suggestion.’

‘But one that has barbs.’

‘Better than the barbs you may find yourself upon should you stay.’

‘Sage advice, and I may just take you up on it. But I cannot yet.’

‘And why is that?’ exasperation creeping into her normally calm voice.

I grinned slyly, ‘I have business here.’

‘You had just told me you had no business here. If you are to continue to lie Mr Mortis, you will need a better memory.’

‘I remember just fine. And, if you’ll indulge me, I said I didn’t have business with Kaung, I said nothing about business with anyone else.’

‘You play games.’

‘Of course, that’s what makes life worth living. Are you sure I cannot buy you a drink?’ I asked then finished mine. I placed my glass upon the bar and signalled the barman to re-fill it.

‘No thank you.’ Daiyu smiled sadly, ‘I shall leave now and hope you follow my suggestion. Conclude your business with haste, or the barbs will come for you. I do not want that for you.’

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, watching as the barman poured out another healthy tot of whiskey, ‘I intend to, though that does depend entirely upon you.’ I replied, and for the first time I looked her squarely in the eye.

She had been about to turn away and head back to her master, but my words piqued her to interest. ‘What possible business could you have with me?’

She stood unsure whether to leave or press me for more information, however from over her shoulder I could see Kaung’s right hand man heading our way, so rather than wait for a possibly uglier confrontation and put Daiyu in an impossible situation as Kaung’s man drew within ear shot I got from my stool abruptly, speaking loud enough to ensure I was heard, ‘Okay, okay I’m going. Tell your boss I won’t darken this club again if he’s going to be like that. You’ve made his position very clear. Good day miss.’ I practically spat the last word, grabbed my whiskey, downed it, and turned back to the bar, ‘Check please.’ I said to the barman just as Kaung’s man reached us.

‘Is there a problem?’ he asked with a just a hint of menace.

‘No problem,’ said Daiyu, not taking her eyes from me, ‘the gentleman is just leaving.’

Kuàng’s man snorted, ‘Make sure he does. The Master wants his presence gone now.’ Daiyu bowed slightly, ‘Return to the table as soon as he’s left.’

‘I don’t need an escort. The concubine has made your mini emperor’s wishes crystal clear.’ I sneered, pushing between the pair of them, shoulder barging Kuàng’s man as I went, and deftly slipped a note into Daiyu’s hand in the same movement. Without looking back, I strode angrily from the club. Outside I allowed myself a small smile, hailed a cab and took myself off to gentleman’s club Blackheart and I frequented. Inside I found Blackheart there before me.

‘How did it go?’ he asked.

‘Kuàng finally bit. He sent Daiyu to warn me off, and his right hand to ensure I left. I think he’s feeling a bit nervous around us.’

‘Good. So, he should.’ Blackheart grinned. ‘And what of Daiyu?’

‘I got her attention. Whether it was enough, well, time will tell.’

‘Time at least is the one thing we have.’

‘How are you doing with Wong?’

Blackheart sighed, ‘Unlike Kaung he is not biting, yet. He is keeping a very wide berth.’

‘How much have you lost at his tables?’

‘I’m coming in about even.’ Blackheart smiled.

‘Well, that’s something. So, what now?’

‘First off,’ Blackheart announced forcefully, ‘we’ll have another drink.’, and he picked up the small bell from the table and gave it a gentle ring.

‘I won’t argue with that.’

‘Secondly, you carry on working Daiyu.’

I nodded.

‘And thirdly, I am going back to Maidenhead. I need to speak with Mrs Heller.’

I grimaced, ‘You are going through with that?’

‘We need her Raif.’

‘We are stepping down a dark path Devlin.’

Blackheart gave me a knowing look, whenever I used his first name, he knew we had taken another step along Satan’s path. We paused until we each had a fresh drink in hand. ‘To the damned!’ Blackheart toasted.

‘The damned!’ I chorused as we chinked glasses and downed our drinks.

The next day, after breakfast, Blackheart and I parted ways. I now had three days to kick my heels and see if Daiyu understood my note, and more importantly act upon it. I kept a low profile, and an eye out to see if any of Kuàng’s people had come looking for me, but it seemed I had been discounted as nothing more than an irritant, which was good.

On the evening of the third day, I set out into the evening smog. It hung heavy, yellow and cloying, with visibility down to no more than fifteen feet at best. I had given myself plenty of time to reach Regent Street and headed for the Café Royale. Inside its lavish extravagance made for a cheering counterpoint to the grimness of the smog. A pretty young thing led me to a pre-booked table in a secluded corner. I informed her that I was awaiting a guest and gave her a brief description of Daiyu. If the girl had been shocked at me meeting a lady of oriental persuasion, she didn’t let it show. I ordered a whisky, and relaxed, watching the other revellers. As I had suspected the place had its share of celebrities in that night. Good, that means any casual observer would be focussed upon them, rather than a relative unknown such as I.

I had no idea if Daiyu would show. My note had been short to say the least, Regent Royale Sat 8, I hoped she would understand. By my third whiskey, I was beginning to suspect that either my note had been too obtuse, of she had fully understood and chosen not to engage. Assuming I had been stood up I caught the eye of my waitress and asked her to bring me the menu. No point not eating now I was here. I had just settled on my choice of starter when a delicate floral scent stroked my senses. I looked up to find a conservatively dressed Daiyu stood before me. I stood, smiled, and pulled a chair out for her. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her eyes darting to others in the room, as though expecting an attack, satisfied no one was about to strike her, she allowed herself to be seated.

I returned to my own seat, just as my waitress re-appeared at our table. ‘Please could you bring the lady a Montclair.’

‘I told you I do not drink alcohol.’

‘Its not. Trust me it’s a delightful drink. A Montclair if you please.’

‘Yes Sir. And food?’

‘If you can give us a little while longer to peruse your menu.’

Daiyu sat in stony silence, but with a little encouragement I got her to pick out choices to eat. The waitress returned with the Montclair, took our food order, and left us to sit in awkward silence.

‘I didn’t think you’d come.’ I said to break the silence.

‘I almost didn’t.’

‘You look nervous.’

‘This place is not for the likes of me.’

‘Nonsense.’ I snorted, ‘This place is for anyone with money.’

‘You British do not like us Chinese to step out of our place.’

‘That’s true,’ I conceded, ‘but strangely enough that doesn’t tend to be the case when the Chinese person in question is as stunningly as attractive as you.’ It was a clumsy flirt, but I thought I detected a slight flush to her cheeks. ‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘no one is paying us any attention, they’re too busy looking at Noel Coward and Cecil Beaton over there to bother about us.’

Seeing I was right Daiyu relaxed, a little. She took her sip of the Montclair, and I was delighted to see her eyes widen with pleasure.

‘You like?’

‘Yes, it very pleasant. Thank you.’

‘The Americans are a brash and overbearing lot,’ I said, ‘but by god they know how to mix a drink.’

Just then our starters arrived. I allowed Daiyu to eat in silence. I noted how she picked at her food, and only placed small morsels in her mouth, eating daintily.

Once our first plates had been cleaned away, I asked, ‘How did you get away from Kaung to come here?’

‘What makes you think I came here without his knowledge?’

‘Given he was so keen for me to leave the Albermarle, I assumed he wouldn’t want you anywhere near me.’

‘And if you think I am able to simply come and go as I please you are mistaken.’

‘So, he does know you are here?’

‘No, he knows I am meeting you, the where, I kept to myself’

‘And he was okay with that?’

‘I persuaded him it would not be in his interests to scare you away should I turn up with an entourage. Better I find out what you want and report back.’

I took a thoughtful sip from my drink, ‘And you think me knowing that I now know you will tell him what we discuss, that I will still tell you the real reason I asked for this meeting?’

Daiyu gave me an inscrutable stare, ‘What you tell me and what I tell Kaung are not necessarily the same thing.’

‘But not necessarily different either.’

Daiyu looked like she was about to say something enigmatic when the main courses arrived. I let the conversation pause as we again ate in silence. Again, I watched her closely. If she was feeling nervous or feeling in control, I could not tell. Did she enjoy the food, did she hate it, she gave absolutely nothing away, her expression was a perfectly formed mask.

Finally, once we’d finished and both sat, with the relaxed feeling one only gets from a good meal, she looked me directly in the eye and said, ‘Now would be a good time to ask me whatever it is you brought me here for.’

‘Maybe I just asked you here because I find you intriguing and alluring.’

‘Again, you lie with an ease that Kuàng would envy.’

I held up my hands in supplication, ‘Its not a lie, well, not entirely. I do find you intriguing and alluring, but you are right that isn’t why I asked you here.’

‘Then why?’

‘I want you to help me destroy your master.’ I said bluntly. Again, her mask did not slip.

‘I suspected as much.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Will you, help me destroy him that is?’

‘What is in it for me?’

And there it was the question I didn’t have an answer for, so I replied in the only way I could, ‘What would you want in return for helping me?’

Daiyu stood, I didn’t, looking down at me she said ‘Thank you for a pleasant evening, Mr Mortis. You have given me much to think about. I shall be in touch, one way or another.’, and with the faintest of smiles Daiyu walked away leaving me wondering whether I had just painted a bloody big target on my back, or if I had just won over an ally. As I sat contemplating how the evening had played out the waitress turned up. ‘Would you like to see the dessert menu?’

‘My guest has left,’ I replied somewhat sadly, then rallied and with a smile said, ‘Yes, why not. I hear your Rhubarb flan is to die for. Oh, and another whisky please.’

‘Certainly Sir.’ She smiled.

Sat on my own I decided to enjoy the rest of the evening. If I should be targeted by one of Kuàng’s flunkies tonight, well so be it, at least I will die happy, I thought as I waited for the flan and whiskey to arrive.


Chapter 34 – General Hospital 59.

What became known as the battle of Passchendaele was into its third bloody month. Progress had been slow, casualties heavy on both sides. Hindered by the worst weather in living memory that turned the front into a quagmire, which drowned men and horses with unrelenting regularity. British, Empire and French troops took ground at heavy loss only for German counter offensives to take it back. Yet for all that the allies continued to grind forward.

Blackheart and I, fortunately, were not with the troops at the front wading through the mud, blood, and bullets, we were, instead in pursuit of a different quarry, which was no less dangerous and just as responsible for deaths that numbered in the hundreds if not thousands. You may then find it strange that we sought our prey not where the bullets were whistling, but at one of the general field hospitals behind the front, where those who had already fallen foul of the battle, now fought for their lives against infection, disease, and major trauma of both mind and body.

This wasn’t our first hospital. It was the fifth or sixth we had visited, and how we had not picked up some life-threatening disease while trawling these sorry places was beyond me. Dysentery at the very least was a real threat, but so far Blackheart and I had escaped its ravages.

General Hospital 59 at St. Omer, where we now found ourselves, was not the worse we had been at. It also came with a pleasant surprise, for here we came across Blackheart’s aunt Margaret, who was stationed here. This was a stroke of fortune as it allowed us to change our modus operandi from the previous hospitals we had visited.

On finding out this was where Margaret operated from, Blackheart approached her quietly to illicit her help. She agreed to his proposition and so the following day, on her return journey the clearing station at the front, Margaret’s ambulance fell back from the main column, to come to a momentary halt where the road passed through a small, weary looking wood. Blackheart and I slipped out from behind a tree and hopped into the back of Margaret’s ambulance, where inside we changed from our own uniforms into those of a couple of orderlies of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Once at Hospital 59, Blackheart and I joined the ranks of the orderlies that worked the hospital. Such was the influx of people coming and going, and the sheer number of wounded arriving, no one paid any attention to two more unfamiliar faces.

Strangely of all the things I did during the war, working at that hospital helping the poor wretches torn asunder by the battle, that I felt I truly made a difference, helping to ease the pain and suffering of those that had given their all and more in the name of King and Country. Though for all its worth, that was not why Blackheart, and I were here. Even though we were no strangers to the ravages of war, after ten days working at the hospital we sat at the mess table, both tired and mentally strained.

Nursing a hot cup of tea each staring down at the table, Blackheart asked ‘What do you think?’

‘I can’t be sure, but there seems to be an excessive number of men that die who reside in beds seventy through eighty-five.’

‘There are men dying all the time, what’s special about those beds?’

‘That’s the thing, nothing. Mix of wounds, mix of treatments, mix of stages of recovery. But the ones that have died are never the ones that you would have put money on being the ones to suddenly snuff it. I’ve spoken to some of them during the same day and they had seemed quite chipper given the circumstances, then that same night they suddenly deteriorate and die.’

‘Your bedside manner must be truly awful.’ Blackheart quipped darkly.

‘The other thing is they all, to a man, had been called in for a check over by Doctor Fieldstone that same day.’

‘You think he’s killing them?’

‘Not immediately. I’ve wheeled at least three of them back from their examinations, still alive, but then that night…’ I snapped my fingers.

‘So, not Fieldstone.’

‘I’m not sure. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but there is something off about him.’

‘Anything else?’

‘He’s always accompanied by a French nurse.’

‘We are in France.’

‘True, but.’

‘But what?’ Blackheart looked at me curiously.

‘She’s too French.’

‘Is that even a thing?’

‘Again, I can’t quite say why, but she’s off, something about her is off.’

Blackheart, who had learned to trust my gut, rubbed his lips with his index finger thoughtfully and said, ‘Okay, that is good enough for me. We will investigate them. It’s certainly a better lead than I have.’

‘We could start with Margaret.’ I said, ‘She and the French nurse seem to be friendly. Maybe you can do some digging.’

Blackheart nodded. ‘Okay, make your rounds. Get to know each man if you can, see if there is anything that would make them a target. I will talk to Margaret. One question?’

‘Yes?’

‘When you took the men to the doctor for his checks, were you in the room while the checks were done?’

‘No, each time I was told to go get myself a brew, the checks would take a while and to come back in half an hour.’

‘Convenient’

‘Yes, but also standard. When have you ever known orderlies being around while examinations are happening.’

‘Okay, what’s the French nurse’s name?’

‘Madame Heller.’

More days passed. More wounded found their way to the hospital. News from the front was we were making inroads to the German lines, but at great expense. Not helped by the fact the Germans seemed to know which part of the front to amass most troops to resist the advance, it was like they knew exactly what our battle plan was.

During those bloody days, Blackheart, through Margaret got to know Madame Heller. She was a typical nurse. A widow, her husband killed in 1916 on the Somme, had decided to do her bit to help, became a nurse and was sent here, where she had tended the wounded ever since. It was a familiar story. For my part I had taken the time to watch her when dealing whenever my duties coincided with hers. She was efficient, very capable, clearly knew her stuff. The only thing I could level at her by way of criticism would be her bedside manner could be cold and aloof, but then many a nurse that had let herself get too close to the patients had cracked under the sheer weight of human misery coming through these hospitals and broke. If cold and aloof is how one managed to function day in and day out here, then who was I to criticize.

Dr Fieldstone, by contrast, was anything but cold. He had the air of someone flying close to the wind, a slightly haunted look darkened his otherwise handsome features, as he buzzed around the wards like he was always just out of time, and yet, it never stopped him taking that moment to joke with a patient or give a word of encouragement to the nurses. He would even share a smoke with us orderlies. And yet, and yet, something about him niggled me.

I had been round my patch again, having helped bring in new wounded, provide tea to those that could drink, and cleaned up where needed. I had been tasked to pick up a young Corporal by the name of Woodcock, who had been heavily lacerated by shrapnel from an exploding shell, and to take him through for an examination by Dr Fieldstone. When the morphine wore off, he was in a lot of pain, but his spirits were quite high, and he was making good progress. Nurse Heller joined me at the Corporal’s bed, and she helped me move him from the bed and get him into the wheelchair, as he was still drowsy and pumped full of Morphine. She walked with me as we took him to the examination room, so I took the chance to ask her about Fieldstone.

She regarded me with that cold stare of hers but asked me what I wanted to know. So, I asked her if she thought him a good doctor. She answered in the affirmative, but wondered why I would ask such a question, so I just put it out there that a lot of those that undergo a personal inspection by Fieldstone unfortunately die quite suddenly afterwards.

She stepped ahead of me and the corporal in the chair, stopped and turned to face me.

‘Are you making an accusation?’ she asked sharply.

‘What, no. I’m just worried for this young lad here.’ I said nodding down at Woodcock, who was fortunately a little out of it, ‘He has become a friend and I just want to know he is in good hands’

‘And why would you ask this?’ she glared at me, hands on hips, her stance stiff and defensive.

‘I just noticed a few lads that have seen Fieldstone did not seem that bad. They were in recovery then just died. Don’t want that to happen to Woodcock.’ I said, doing my best to look worried.

Madame Heller’s stance softened slightly, ‘He is a good doctor. He is doing his best. Sadly, some of those that are outwardly doing okay, are inside a mess. Complex wounds, infections taking hold but not showing any outward signs and barely hanging on. When that happens, no doctor here, in these conditions would be able to help them. They were just unlucky, Fieldstone was unlucky.’

‘Oh.’ I said looking crestfallen.

‘But do not worry. I do not believe your Woodcock is in the same situation. His wounds are primarily external. He is in pain, but it is not life threatening.’ Madame Heller gave the briefest of smiles, though her eyes remained cold and piercing.

I smiled back, and followed her to the examination room, where I left Woodcock behind. Later I returned to collect him and return him to his bed. Unlike others before him, Woodcock did not die in the night. However, when I was wheeling him away from the examination, I took a moment to look back and it was clear Fieldstone and Heller were having a heated exchange, about what I did not know, but I decided Fieldstone needed watching closely. I left a note for Blackheart via Margaret outlining my concerns and that I was to keep an eye as best I could upon Fieldstone over the next few days.

It was now the 21st of September and casualties were streaming in from a major engagement started the previous day. I did not have too much time to watch Fieldstone, but I did note that he had quite a high number of wounded sent to him, as far as I could tell none survived. Whether that was because something nefarious was up or simply the men were too injured to make it through surgery I could not tell.

As the day ended and things quietened down, I was about to turn in from my shift when I received a request to collect a private from bed seventy-two and take him to the examination room. Exhausted, I sighed heavily but grabbed my stuff and went and collected the patient in bed seventy-two. He was a young man, twenty-three or four. He wore a wedding ring, the left side of his face was bandaged, his left arm was in a sling, and bandages were wrapped tightly about his ribs and stomach. Blood had seeped into a lot of the bandaging. Nurse Heller joined me, plus another more junior nurse. They had me wheel him to an emergency room, where inside I found Fieldstone prepping for surgery.

‘Ah, good man.’ He said wearily, ‘Can you pop him up on the table please, on his back.’

‘Yes Sir.’ I answered and began to manoeuvre the soldier onto the bench. Heller aided me. As we worked to get him where the doctor wanted him, he sent the junior nurse away to gather more antiseptics.

We got the soldier laid out on the examination bench. I was about to turn to Fieldstone to ask if he required anything else, when something hit me heavily across the back of the head and shoulders, I was unconscious before I hit the floor.

When I came round my head was thumping and I was sat on a chair, bound tightly to it. Dr Fieldstone was watching me carefully, nurse Heller stood off to one side, next to a small table with a bag upon it.

‘Good, you’re awake.’ Said Fieldstone, ‘Tell me who you are and why you are asking questions about me?’

‘Tell me why you smacked me round the back of the head.’ I responded groggily. I did not feel entirely in control of my head. I felt sick and dizzy. I needed time to get my thoughts in order.

‘No, I don’t think I will.’ He snapped. ‘You have been making accusations about me, I don’t like that.’

I tried to think of something witty, but the throbbing in my head was threatening to burst my eyes, or at least that’s how it felt, so all I could manage was ‘What?’

‘Uncooperative, I cannot say I am surprised. I am not a viscous man. I really am a doctor, so let me be clear, it does not please me to cause you pain, so I shall not.’

‘Thanks.’ I said, ‘In which case can you let me go now?’

‘But Madame Heller here,’ he continued pointedly ignoring my request, ‘has no such compunction about causing pain.’

I looked to Heller, who had rolled a canvas bag out on the table, which contained all manner of shiny, sharp, and pointy implements. It looked like every tool on a dentist’s wish list was there.

‘So, I ask you again, who are you and why are you asking about me?’

‘I am 1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black.’ I reeled off the identity I had taken for this job.

‘Name, rank and number, honestly?’

‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black.’

‘So be it. Madame Heller.’ He beckoned the nurse over.

She appeared at my side with an array of needle-sharp implements and a look in her eye that suggested this was nothing but business.

The fear of what was about to happen helped clear my head, desperately I played for time, ‘The young nurse will be back shortly. How will you explain this away?’

‘She has been and gone, while you were unconscious. She will not save you.’

‘But afterwards, when you’re done, you will have to kill me, or I will tell them of this.’

‘I know.’ He said heavily, ‘but what is one more death among all this?’ he waved his arms around despondently.

‘But they will look for me. I’m not one of your wounded, you cannot pass me off as simply died in the night quite so easily.’

‘True, but we have enough dead bodies here that we can easily lose yours amongst them. You will be in a mass grave before anyone misses you. As far as anyone will be concerned, you will be just another deserter.’

‘Only if you believe I am working alone.’ I said hoping that the threat of more accomplices would stay their hand, but Fieldstone just laughed.

‘Once Madame Heller has finished with you, we will know all those with which you are working. We will kill them before they have chance to work out what has happened to you. And no one will query a few extra deaths. Death stalks this land, or had you not noticed?’

‘But I’m onto you.’ I sneered, ‘So if I can see you’re off, so will others.’

‘You are the first in two years. I doubt any others will be quite so astute.’

I strained against my bonds but to no avail.

‘Madame Heller, if you’d be so kind?’

‘Who are you working with?’ Heller asked.

‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black.’ I replied, then screamed as something sharp was inserted between my thumb nail and finger.

Sweat broke out all over me and my heart raced. My thumb blazed with pain.

‘Who are you working with?’

‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black.’ I yelled back and screamed again as a second needle was forced into my other thumb.

‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘You are a fool to yourself Black.’ Fieldstone protested, ‘We three all know this ends in your death. But you can save yourself many agonies before you pass over to the other side. Spare yourself. I promise I will make your death quick and painless.’

‘Go to hell!’ I swore as tears ran down my face.

Dr Fieldstone laughed hopelessly, ‘But we are already there. Madame Heller.’

I felt a third needle against a fingertip, I turned my head to face her, she was unsmiling, cold and with flat eyes asked, ‘Who are you working with?’

‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black’, then cried out as searing agony erupted through my hand as the third needle went in.

I wasn’t sure if I were starting to hallucinate but I was sure I could hear a commotion outside, and felt a perceptible change in the room suddenly, like something had thrown them off their stride. Then I heard it, explosions in the distance, getting louder with every second.

Suddenly Fieldstone swore in German and dropping any pretence grabbed a service revolver from a table behind him and pointed it at my head. As a last act of defiance, I looked him in the eye and said ‘1897 Lance Corporal Ralph Black’ and laughed. His response was as unexpected as it was out of character, he saluted me.

‘You are a brave man. Many others crumbled and gave up their unit’s positions, numbers, and their order of attack after just seeing Heller’s needles. I take no pleasure in this.’ He confided and raised the gun to my head.

‘Just do it.’ I spat.

‘What the blazes is going on HERE?’ a voice I knew all too well announced itself indignantly, then everything went crazy as series of explosions rocked the hospital and blew the side out of the room where we had all just been.

I must have blacked out, momentarily. As I opened my eyes, my already throbbing head threatened to overwhelm me as bricks, mortar and ash reigned down upon me. Where moments a go I had been in a room, now I found myself outside, with a multitude of fires staining the night sky orange and red, setting everything else in stark silhouette. I was still attached to the chair but now on my side, as my eyes cleared and my hearing stopped ringing, I picked out Dr Fieldstone backing away, his arm around someone, pulling them with him, gun to their head. Heller? No surely not, then I realised with a lump in my throat, it was Margaret. What the hell was she doing here, I thought. Looking back to where Fieldstone had his focus I could see Blackheart, revolver in hand, pointing at Fieldstone, and by default Margaret. Covered in brick dust, he looked like a badly shaded ghost. While this standoff played out, all about things were exploding, people were running about in wild panic, while up above the receding drone of aircraft engines faded into the night.

I could see Blackheart didn’t have a clear shot, Fieldstone spotting Blackheart’s hesitation swung his own gun away from Margaret’s temple to point directly at Blackheart, there was a sharp crack, the revolver went limp in Fieldstone’s hand as he fell to the floor, his weight on Margaret dragging her to the floor, the right-hand side of his head blown out. Blackheart spun to face the new addition to this deathly tableau. I craned my head around to see, and there was Madame Heller, with a pistol held aloft, as she got down upon her knees dropped the gun and placed her hands upon her head.

‘Trudi?’ Margret looked at Heller confused, as she pulled herself from out under Fieldstone’s body.

‘He would have killed you.’ She said, ‘I couldn’t allow that.’

‘I don’t understand?’ said Margaret, confused. ‘Who are you?’

‘She’s a spy for the Germans.’ Said Blackheart striding forward, placing his gun at Heller’s head, ‘and as such she is sentenced to death.’ He cocked the trigger and made to pull it.

‘Don’t you bloody dare Devlin.’ Margaret cried, ‘Don’t you bloody dare.’

‘Sorry aunty, if I do not, she will be put in front of a firing squad. No doubt after our intelligencers have put her through the mill. Is that what you want. As she saved your life, I will end it here for her now, clean, quick. I owe her that.’

‘I owe her more.’ Said Margaret, ‘Find another way.’

‘We’re here!’ a voice said sharply, as I was jolted awake by the taxi’s abrupt halt.

‘Sorry, what?’

‘We’ve arrived guvnor.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ I said, as my mind came back to the present. The memories of Hospital 59 already dissipating, as I stepped from the taxi, out into a London drizzle. I handed the fare over and without another word, walked away, clenching, and unclenching my right hand, trying to shake the throb in my thumb and finger, as I headed towards, hopefully, a rendezvous with Daiyu.


Chapter 35 – Daiyu and Sabine.

I trudged through the heavy drizzle towards London Bridge, collar up and hands stuffed deeply in the pockets of my trench coat. Within it’s pocket my right hand caressed the handle of the Webley Revolver. I didn’t know if I was going to be facing trouble or not, but I was determined not to be caught short should Kuàng have set a welcome party for me.

The drizzle and heavy cloud had leeched all the colour from London’s streets turning everything grey and dreary. On the plus side it had thinned the crowds, no one was out and about who didn’t need to be. Much harder to be crept upon when streets are empty.

I made my way towards and onto London Bridge. At the centre I paused and turned to look out across the Thames towards Tower Bridge. Beneath me churning along the dark green ribbon of the river, lighters, barges, steamers, tugs, sail boats all plied their trade along London’s artery.

I continued my way across the bridge and made the twenty-minute walk to the Bunhills graveyard. I located Daniel Defoe’s headstone and paused. I was by now soaked. The drizzle having soaked through every piece of clothing I wore, my hair was plastered to my head, mixed with Brylcream, it lay heavy with greasy rivulets running down my face. An almost permanent drip hung from the tip of my nose.

I waited for maybe two or three minutes when Daiyu appeared from the rain, a vision of funereal finery, dressed in a long black wool coat, black boots, protected from the rain beneath a large black brolly. She looked to be alone. She came and stood beside me and regarded Defoe’s headstone.

‘Afternoon.’ I said, wiping the drip from my nose, not looking at her.

‘You are wet.’

‘Unfortunately, that would seem to be the case.’ I laughed stoically. ‘Are you alone?’

‘I am.’

‘Why did you ask to meet here?’

‘I thought it would be hard to ambush me here, but if Kuàng had, there wouldn’t be too many innocents about to be caught in the crossfire.’

‘No ambush, just me.’ She said quietly.

‘Did you know Defoe was a spy? I thought it was an apt person to meet in front of.’

‘You think I am a spy?’

‘Maybe. Possibly. I know I am. Or at least I was. But whatever we want to call this meeting, its rather clandestine. Fitting location, don’t you think?’

‘I think you British romanticise the strangest things.’

‘Possibly.’ I conceded.

‘Should we find someplace indoors to conduct our business?’

‘That would be super.’ I smiled. ‘Please?’ I stepped to the side hand proffered forward to invite her to walk with me. She fell in beside and we left the graveyard.

We managed to find a smallish pub, its windows thick with condensation, from the bodies crushed together inside. But it was warm, and welcoming, and we manged to find a table in a corner where we could talk without being overheard.

I got us drinks, a heavy stout for me, a sarsaparilla for Daiyu, who eyed it suspiciously and pulled a face when tasted it for the first time.

‘Not your usual drink?’

‘I have not had this before. It is extremely sweet.’

‘You like?’

‘It is not unpleasant.’ She said taking another small sip, this time without the face screwing.

‘So, do you have an answer for me?’

Daiyu put her glass down and looked at me coolly, ‘If I agree to help you, then I require two things.’

‘Name them.’

‘First off, you must kill Kuàng.’

‘Happily.’ I replied with feeling.

‘Secondly, I require a new passport with a new identity and passage to the United States.’

That wasn’t what I was expecting, and I also felt a momentary pang of disappointment that after this, should I still be alive, Daiyu would leave never for me to see her again. I had developed a soft spot for her, despite her frosty inscrutable demeanour. I felt a kindred spirit, unsure why, but it was there. But it was not for me to put my own feelings first, ‘We can certainly do that for you.’ I agreed.

‘Then I shall help. What do you require?’

Business like as ever, I should have been used to her no-nonsense approach by now, and yet it still caught me off guard. ‘Okay,’ I said as I tried to put my thoughts in order, then almost with a click my mind flicked back into its old profession. ‘We need to decide on a drop point so we can pass messages without putting us in the same place together at the same time until the act is over. We also need to agree symbols we can quickly chalk or scratch into a surface to let each other know if all is good, have problems, going dark and so on and so forth.’

Daiyu listened, and between us within half an hour we had worked out our code, agreed the information drop point, plus back-ups should a site become compromised. Satisfied I had our operating mechanisms in-place, I asked, ‘How will you manage Kuàng? How hard will it be to slip away?’

For the first time she let out a little laugh, ‘Very easy.’

‘Really?’ I sounded incredulous.

‘Of course. He thinks I am working for him to double cross you.’

‘Oh.’ I said unsure how to respond.

‘But do not worry, I am not really working for him.’

‘I bet you said exactly the same thing to him.’

An enigmatic smile flirted with the corners of Daiyu’s mouth, ‘I must be leaving now.’ She said, ‘We will be in-touch as agreed.’ And with that she left, a vision in black, and I was still none the wiser as to who she was working for, me, Kuàng, or someone else? Then realisation dropped, she was working for herself, and who could blame her. That made it easier for me I some ways, so long as I upheld our end of the bargain, which would be in her favour, and so should keep her aligned to what Blackheart and I required, rather than Kuàng.

Later, returned to the hotel, washed, and wearing dry clothes I made my way to the restaurant where I had arranged to meet Blackheart. Walking in the maître de greeted me and politely guided me to our table where I found Blackheart and, not entirely to my surprise, Mrs Heller.

‘Blackheart, Mrs Heller.’ I greeted them as I sat down.

‘Here, it is Sabine, if you please.’ Heller said with a restrained smile.

‘Of course,’ I paused, ‘Sabine.’

She nodded slightly as Blackheart said, ‘I’ve ordered us a nice Merlot, and Deviled eggs to start. I will let you choose your own main.’

‘Thanks.’ I said opening the menu, glancing through the main dishes.

‘How was your meeting? Did she show?’

‘She did. She will help us bring him down.’

‘I presume she had conditions.’

‘Yes, nothing we cannot meet. But let’s not discuss that here.’ I said looking up and glancing to a waiter who had been hovering nearby. On catching his eye, he made his way over.

‘Is sir ready to order?’

‘I am. I will have the fish please.’

‘Very good Sir.’ He noted it down and left.

‘We have already ordered.’ Said Blackheart.

I looked to Sabine, ‘I take it Blackheart has filled you in with what’s required?’

‘He has.’

‘Are you okay with this?’ I asked genuinely concerned. I better than anyone knew what Sabine was capable of, I also had come to understand what it cost her and did not want her to walk this path lightly.

‘I will play my part.’ She answered stiffly.

‘Well, isn’t this a merry get together.’ Blackheart beamed, as the wine was brough to the table and poured out. ‘So, no more talk of work tonight. Let us just enjoy each other’s company. Cheers.’ He held up his glass.

‘Cheers.’ Sabine and I chorused as we chinked glasses. The rest of the night passed pleasantly and with good humour. Despite her often buttoned up appearance Mrs Heller, could, when the situation was right, be charming company. She had a dry wit, a sharp mind, and was an accomplished conversationalist.

That night I slept well, rising late. During the afternoon we planned the abduction and subsequent squeeze of Jimmy Wong. It was risky, and if it all went wrong, we would probably end up dead, after being tortured first. It was lining up to be an interesting couple of days.


Chapter 36 – Interrogation.

Blackheart had spent weeks building up a comprehensive picture of Jimmy Wong’s movements. Originally, he’d wanted Jimmy to engage with him directly, but he’d gone out of his way to avoid Blackheart. He had never been rude or threatening. He never tried to have Blackheart evicted from one of his clubs, unlike say Kuàng who had done his best to have me removed from a club that wasn’t even his. No, Jimmy had been playing it cool with Blackheart, ever since his double cross had resulted on us being removed from Hawkes investigation.

Blackheart though only had limited reserves of patience, and Jimmy’s almost supernatural power of being able to avoid Blackheart in all settings had pushed his patience to its limit, which is why I was sat in a dirty cobbled back street, with nothing but rats and rubbish to keep me company.

I was behind a small eatery that Jimmy Wong visited every fortnight on a Thursday. He ate, relaxed, and took his protection money from the proprietor, a small aging Chinese gentleman with thinning hair, greying beard, and an inability to stop bowing whenever Jimmy addressed him. Jimmy always came here accompanied by four of his largest and most dangerous henchmen, who never left his side. That is except for when Jimmy would, with remarkable regularity, make use of the toilet facilities. The facilities, such as they are, was little more than a trough in a backyard, with a piece of corrugated iron acting as a makeshift roof to protect those from the worst of the weather or prying eyes. Fortunately for us, the roof didn’t cover the entire yard, only reaching out about two feet in from the edge of the wall, the rest was open to the skies.

For all his paranoia Jimmy never thought to check the dingy cobbled back street that faced off against the backyard wall. For an accomplished climber such as Blackheart the backyard wall had provided no test, and in seconds he had gone up and over. Inside the gate was only bolted, not even padlocked. Blackheart unbolted it and then sank back into the shadows to wait for Jimmy’s appearance. My role was to wait in the back street keeping a lookout. No dashing black cat burglar clothes for me, I was in my most convincing street tramp rags, soaked in filth and cheap booze, no one would pay me any attention, not that anyone was passing up this alley, it was deathly quiet. Not so much as a cat disturbed it this evening.

The day’s light had almost entirely faded when a sharp rap came from the backyard gate. I cast my eyes up and down the backstreet, but it was empty. From my position sat upon the ground I reached out and wrapped just as sharply upon the gate. I heard the latch lift and the gate creak open, stepping out a suited figure with a rough hessian bag over his head was pushed forcibly out onto the backstreet cobbles. Behind him, clad in black, lower face obscured behind a black neckerchief, Blackheart followed, the muzzle of his revolver pressed into Jimmy Wong’s side. Without saying a word, simply using the pressure from the gun to indicate what was required, Blackheart guided Wong along the walls to the far end of the street. Behind them I closed the gate and shuffled off in the opposite direction. I paused to see if anyone was looking, happy no one was paying me any attention, I shambled across the road and collapsed beneath a small, gangly tree, where I could beg for change while keeping my eyes on the front of the eatery.

Unsurprisingly the door suddenly burst open and two large Chinese men rushed out into the road, clearly panicked, looking up and down its length for signs of their boss. Seconds later the other two appeared from out of the end of the back street. Clearly, they had gone to look for Wong at the rear and found him gone and rushed out into the back street to find him. The fact they were flustered and there was no sign of Wong meant Blackheart had successfully gotten him away.

I remained beneath my tree begging until a local Bobby moved me on. I hadn’t done badly, clearly the locals were feeling generous as I had made a few shillings for my troubles. Untroubled by Wong’s henchmen, I drifted into the night.

I didn’t have to drift far. Only three streets away, at a lock up under a railway arch I slunk inside, closing the door behind me. I was in a small space with another door before me, which I opened, which flooded the small space with a harsh bright light. I stepped through letting the second door close.

I didn’t speak, I didn’t need to. Sat tied to a chair in the middle of the floor, stripped to the waste was Jimmy Wong. His head was no longer covered by a bag, but his eyes were heavily blindfolded. A scrunched rag stuffed in his mouth. He was gamely struggling against the leather straps that bound him to the chair, but with no effect, the straps held firm.

Behind him, sat rather more comfortably on a chair was Blackheart, no longer masked, tapping out a cigarette and lighting up. To the side of Wong stood Mrs Heller, a metal table beside her with the tools of her trade laid out with a clinical precision. Having been where Wong currently found himself, I couldn’t entirely supress a shudder. I crossed to Blackheart, neither of us spoke. He offered me a cigarette, which I took. Once lit and I had taken a long drag, letting the smoke ease my racing nerves Blackheart nodded to Heller. She gave a wan smile then reached out and prised the rag from Wong’s mouth.

Wong took a huge breath sucking in a lungful of air, which he followed up with a stream of slurs, curses, and threats against all those behind his abduction, saving his most vile curses for those he sensed in the room with him now. It only paused when Heller flicked a blade across his upper chest drawing a neat trickle of blood from the cut. If she had thought that would stop Wong’s tirade, she was very wrong, it only seemed to spur him on to ever greater threats of revenge, pain, and hell on earth. Seemingly tired of the of the verbal abuse Heller placed the rag back in his mouth.

Wong struggled against the straps holding him even harder, but again they held. I watched how Heller operated. She was calm, unhurried, and at this point seemed happy to let Wong expend energy without her having to do all that much. And so, it went on. Heller let Wong stew, then would remove the rag, Wong would rant and threaten and thrash against his bonds, Heller would cut him, say nothing at all and then force the rag back in Wong’s mouth. She would then sit quietly for a while before repeating the process. What I witnessed was the slow wearing down of Wong. With each time his rants would become less, the threats less vindictive, his thrashing against the straps that held him weaker, until he changed his approach entirely and began to promise rewards for helping him. He wheedled, he begged, he bargained, eventually, Heller removed the rag for the umpteenth time and this time Wong just asked quietly, ‘What do you want?’

Heller glanced to Blackheart who gave her a nod to proceed, turning her attention back to Wong, and in a perfect clipped middle English accent, asked, ‘You are Jimmy Wong?’. Hearing Heller’s perfect English accent took me completely by surprise. I should have realised she had a knack for imitating accents, even those in a foreign tongue, as when I first came across her I was convinced she was French.

Wong, the fight seemingly worn out of him replied ‘Yes.’

‘Then we shall begin.’ Said Heller without emotion, fully in charge. ‘I will ask you questions; you will answer honestly. If I believe you are lying at any point things will get worse for you. Be warned I know more about you than you know, some questions I ask I already know the answer to, so should you lie….’ She let the sentence hand threateningly and pressed a cold knife to his skin, though she didn’t cut him this time, ‘Do you understand?’

Wong sighed heavily, ‘Yes.’

Heller commenced the interrogation, asking questions we did not have answers to, questions we did, of which some must have seemed quite obscure, even to Wong, it was against these he lied and caught in Heller’s trap was suitably punished. Visibly shaken by the amount of knowledge Heller seemed to possess, for he wasn’t to know Blackheart was sat in the room indicating to Heller silently whether he knew the answer was true or false, Wong lost any belief in himself to fool this ice cold woman tormenting him, and so early into the proceedings he became fully compliant. At the end of it tired, stressed, clearly cold even though he was sweating, Wong sat upon the chair a broken man. Strangely, at no point did Heller ever make a promise to free him, so when she had extracted the information we required, she drip fed some water to Wong and said in that voice devoid of emotion, ‘Thank you for your co-operation. My employer will be most satisfied with what you have told us. We shall leave now. In an hour’s time a message will be delivered to your people of where to find you. I would suggest you do not tell them what you told us. What tale you tell them to explain this, I care little, that’s for you to decide. You have at least an hour to concoct something plausible. Thank you for your time Mr. Wong.’

Heller carefully wrapped up her instruments, while Blackheart and I made sure any traces of our presence were eradicated. Everything we had touched was wiped down, we were not giving anyone the chance to track us via our fingerprints. Quietly and carefully, we left the lock-up, making sure no one was around when we exited. We split up with the three of us making our way back to different locations. Heller caught a train, Blackheart went back to the hotel, and I headed for Lavinia’s.

Somewhere between here and the hotel, Blackheart called up Wong’s people, and true to Heller’s word gave them the location of Wong. He would be recovered, though dependent on what he told his people would determine if his position and power was diminished or enhanced in their eyes. What was clear before we left that the already paranoid Wong would now be living with a personal fear that he was not safe and that someone knew how to get at him anytime they liked. How he coped with that only time would tell.

Armed with the information we now had, Blackheart and I were able to start planning the final takedown of Kuàng and those behind the whole Coils of the Anaconda shenanigans. It was possible we may have bitten off more than we could chew, but we were set on our course and were not to be diverted.


Chapter 37 – Plans and disturbances.

Blackheart and I, thanks to Mrs Heller’s interrogation of Jimmy Wong, we had a name. It wasn’t a name either of us recognised. That left us with the key question, who was Lee Sin? Was he a new crime lord newly arrived looking to make his mark? Was he a long-established player? Maybe one who operated in the shadows and had never put himself forward, at least not until now? Or was he something entirely different?

It was giving us food for thought for it had somewhat stymied our efforts to plan the take-down. During our time spying for King and country, what I had learned was the key to every operation was identifying your enemy, learning as much about them as possible, before making a move on them. This in essence was no different, only this time, for the first time, we realised we had never identified our enemy, let alone learned enough to combat them. Like a couple of puppets, we had been strung along by a master who had contrived all our moves.

So, we had a name but little else, and while a name is powerful thing, a name with a description is better. For all we knew Lee Sin could be a seventy-year-old man, or a seventeen-year-old girl and just about anything in between. We needed more than a name.

‘There’s always Daiyu.’ Said Blackheart.

‘You know as well as I we need to use her sparingly.’ I protested. ‘We can’t just call on her every time we have a question regarding the Chinese underworld. They’ll soon twig she’s a leak and you know how they plug leaks.’

‘Is that a no then.’

‘Yes, at least for now. We need another angle.’

‘Then I can think of only one.’ Blackheart said with a grin.

‘Oh god, what have you got in mind?’

‘Raif, Raif, Raif, you know you can trust me, don’t you?’

‘You’re joking, right?’

‘I’ve had an absolutely spiffing idea.’

‘Do I need a whiskey, or two, before I listen to whatever madness you are about to pour forth?’

‘What am I Raif?’

‘Depends on who you ask?’ I replied flippantly.

‘I’m asking you.’

‘In that case a reckless ne’er-do-well with little sense of self preservation, with a liking for the finer things in life that only a criminal career can facilitate, and a weakness for women that want to kill you.’

‘All fair, especially the bit about the women.’

‘Talking of which, has Lady Francesca tried to impale you with another cooking utensil yet?’

Blackheart shuddered, ‘No, thank god, I have given her a wide berth of late.’

‘Sensible chap.’

‘But, when all is said and done, what am I, professionally speaking of course?’

‘Well, if one had to formally categories you, then I would say you’re a cat burglar.’

‘Exactly, which is something I had almost forgotten among all the goings on recently. But I am, and a damn fine one, which is why its about time I embraced my career and put it to good use.’ He smiled broadly.

‘O-kay, and how exactly is that going to help us?’

‘I am going to break into every crime lord’s place and listen in to their meetings until I get a lead.’ Blackheart spread his arms triumphantly.

‘Do you speak Chinese?’ I asked.

‘What?’

‘Do you speak Chinese?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Then how will you know what is being said?’

Blackheart’s faced dropped like a stone, ‘Bloody hell Raif you now how to stomp all over a chap’s enthusiasm.’

‘Given I have just saved you completely wasting you’re time, you are most welcome.’

Blackheart slumped back in silence, and for a time neither of us spoke, each looking for an angle that might lead us to the allusive Lee Sin. Every now and then one of us would lean forward excitedly to throw out an idea only for the other to shoot it down in quick succession.

Eventually, crestfallen, Blackheart swore, ‘Damn it Raif, we’ve nothing. How have we come to this?’

I was about to shrug despondently when a thought struck me, ‘You know what, your original idea isn’t all bad.’

‘Seriously, it was you who pointed out the flaw in my plan.’

‘Yes, but only if you listen in on the Chinese, but what about the non-Chinese in all this?’

‘There aren’t any non-Chinese involved, as well you know.’

‘Ah, but there is. There’s Hawkes and the Metropolitan’s finest.’

‘What, the police. Have you lost you’re mind? They know as little as us. Jimmy’s been stringing them along for weeks.’

‘But they are being strung along for a reason. At some point Jimmy is going to let them know where the so-called coronation is going to take place so Hawkes can swoop.’

‘Yes, but we both know the Coils at that coronation will be fake.’

‘I know that. Kuàng knows that. Lee Sin no doubt knows that, but no one else does. Look for the reactions amongst the witnesses when they see it taken by Hawkes. Whoever looks, happy, smug, and self-satisfied is our man.’ I sat back happy at my own criminal mastermind machinations.

‘That’s all well and good Raif, but what if he’s a good actor, and just plays along as angry with the rest of them? Or, what if he has Jimmy on his payroll and already knows there is to be a raid so won’t be there at all?’

‘Well, we don’t know any of that, obviously.’

‘Obviously, which is why we won’t be staking our chips on that outcome.’

‘Then what, we quit? Leave them to it? Let Kuàng win?’

‘Over my dead body.’ Blackheart spat, ‘No, we upset the apple cart for Kuàng, Hawkes, this Lee Sin, and all the rest of them.’

‘How?’ I asked.

‘Simple, we steal back the Coils, every version of them.’

‘What?’

‘We steal the Coils.’

‘Isn’t that how we got into this mess in the first place.’

‘Yes, and it’s how we get out of it, and wreak no end of hell on Kuàng in the process.’

‘How exactly?’

‘He’s the point man on this job, entrusted in running the scam. He loses the copy and the genuine article they’ll assume he’s got greedy and running a scam of his own. I doubt he’ll last twenty-four hours once they find out they’ve gone.’

‘No, not that, I meant how will you steal them? You have no idea where they’re being kept any more than I do.’

‘My guess it’ll be in one of three locations.’

‘And you know this how exactly?’

‘Because I made it my business to know when we first started on this journey. I spent some time learning about our man Kuàng, his organisation and where his seat of power is. He has three primary places of operation. The Brothel, the Opium den and gambling house, and the legitimate face of his business, his shipping warehouse down on the Thames. It will be in one of those.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ I asked unconvinced.

‘Kuàng’s a paranoid man, you don’t get to his position by feeling secure in one’s position. So, he won’t want the Coils too far from him, guarded by some random lackey. He’s going to want them stored in a place where his most trusted, loyal and best fighters are congregated.’

‘So……?’

‘So, not the Brothel. Nothing puts off the punters more than a cat house full of hard dangerous men rather than soft fragrant girls.’

‘….so, the Opium Den or Warehouse?’

‘It’s a fifty, fifty. If it was you Raif, where would you keep it?’

I thought about it for a moment then said, ‘The warehouse.’

‘Why?’

One side is up against the Thames, and if it’s like most Thames warehouses, the only opening on the river side is usually high up above the water, so if you come in that way you have to somehow get a purchase high up and climb, then when and if you do make it up without being seen you are faced with fewer points of entrance. Warehouses are usually locked down tight. Then from the none river side, the warehouses are usually say behind a fence and courtyard before you ever get to the main building, again with only few potential entrances. Easier to guard, harder to break into. Plus you can keep a lot of men inside on guard at night without raising any suspicions. The opium den is more likely to be down one of the narrow slum streets. You have lots of heavies traipsing in and out of there its going to get noticed. Plus, with the punters it’s going to have more unfamiliar faces in there for them to watch, whereas at night there is no good reason why anyone that isn’t one of them would have reason to be inside the warehouse. You’d stand out like sore thumb. So yes, the warehouse is where I’d put it.’

Blackheart smoothed his moustache and nodding thoughtfully said, ‘Okay, warehouse it is.’

‘When?’ I asked, when a shadow fell across our table accompanied by a soft feminine scent and a bright voice asked, ‘When what?’

We both looked up to find ourselves gazing at two young ladies, ‘Ivy?’ I said astonished.

‘Hi Raif,’ said Ivy, ‘I hope you don’t mind the intrusion but Bonny and I wondered if you and Devlin had anything planned for this weekend, as an absolutely spiffing invite has come our way, and well, we both require an escort, and, well, I, its just……’ Ivy stuttered and stood looking lovely, yet awkward before me, while Bonny stood to one side, a mischievous look upon her face. Dumbstruck, I didn’t know what to say, and as I paused an awkward silence fell between us.

Suddenly the silence was filled as Blackheart replied But of course, we’d love to accompany you two lovely ladies to wherever your heart’s desire.’

The girls giggled nervously as the tension broke. I looked to Blackheart, who even though was smiling broadly, his eyes betrayed annoyance at the disturbance. It looked like Kuàng, and the Warehouse would have to wait.


Chapter 38 – Fotheringhay

Something was wrong. I wasn’t sure what exactly, but I just knew something was not as it should be. I trailed Ivy, Bonny, and Blackheart as they made their way into the party. As I crossed the threshold into the atrium of Stephen Tennant’s opulent summer house, I was greeted with a sharp smile from the doorman, dressed as though he’d just stepped out of the Arabian Nights, and took a glass of champagne from the silver platter held by a young footman at his side, who was dressed as though he was to audition for the part of Aladdin.

Of all those that could claim to be part of the “Bright Young Things” Stephen Tennant was the one who most embodied the spirit and nature of the Bohemians who made up that most celebrated society set. What his father the 1st Baron Glenconner would have made of his son’s antics had lived to see God alone knows. However, the Younger Tennant clearly held little regard for what the previous generation may have thought, and now was keenly devoting his life to the pursuit of pleasure and enjoyed bringing others of a similar bent along with him for the ride.

Inside Tennant’s place everywhere one looked, one could have been mistaken for thinking we had stepped back into Mesopotamia, with everyone dressed as though they were an Arabic prince, warrior, or concubine. The atrium was draped with expensive fabrics to form a giant tent, expansive rugs bedecked the floor, exotic palms placed strategically about the place. Burners hanging from carefully placed hooks, filled the room with a smell of incense, and rich smoke. Cushions were scattered around the edges in in every secluded corner, where many of the party goers were lounging, drinking, smoking hashish from gaudy hashish pipes.

Clearly this was the work of a fevered mind who imagined what an Arabic Prince’s tent would look like, though in truth, as one who had been in a few genuine ones in my time, it was closer to a harem than any noble warrior’s place.

I continued to hold back as the other three wound their way inside, Blackheart looking every bit the genuine article. He was bedecked out in a traditional thobe, a long white robe that went all the way down to the tops of his shoes, over which he wore a black bisht with gold cuffs, and upon his head a traditional ghutra headscarf, kept in place with a black cord known as an agal. At his waist hung a curved Jambiya dagger in a highly polished wood scabbard with silver inlays, to this day I have no idea where he had acquired such a magnificent and expensive specimen.

It was typical of Blackheart to make every effort to always look the part when going to any party. Not for him mock fancy dress, if he was to dress as an Arab Prince, then he would, to put it in his own words ‘do it right old boy or what’s the point?’

I was less inclined to put the effort in, preferring not to be the standout but to slip into the background, as such although my clothes were the genuine article, brought back from my time in the desert campaign, they were simple by comparison. I could still have been a member of the ruling elite, or just as easily be a trader plying his wares in any market square across the middle east. Ivy and Bonny had clearly gone with the approach of most of the party goers and had dressed based on the more salacious ideas of the middle east and so, along with about every other woman present looked like they had stepped out from a belly dance troupe.

The party was a riot of colour, noise, drink, and exotic aromas, and one would have struggled to have found a better-looking bunch of people in all of London on that afternoon, but despite the blatant jollity on display I was on edge.

As we sauntered through the place, I could not help but look about me for any tell-tale signs that we were walking into a trap. Much to my disappointment I did not spot any dodgy fellows lurking in shadows waiting to pounce. I don’t know what exactly I was expecting to happen, but my uneasy feeling continued to grow. I had trusted my gut before and it had saved my life on more than one occasion, I was not about to ignore it now.

Blackheart for his part seemed relaxed and, in his element, stopping to talk to old acquaintances, and some potentially new and interesting ones. Bonny, not unlike Blackheart, was also very at home in this august company, greeting old friends with expressive double cheek kisses and such balmy acknowledgements of darling, sweetie and delightful, as she went. Ivy on the other hand had that look I had seen on her before, the look of someone who believes she is an imposter and at any second was to be found out. Putting my misgivings aside, I took pity and caught up, looping my arm through hers, giving her a beaming smile and making an innate joke, which brought a bright smile and a flash of gratitude behind those eyes that I had fallen for previously.

Regardless of the recent chill of our flirtation we chatted amiably, laughing, and joking and again falling back into simply enjoying each other’s company. Had I been wrong to distance myself from this lady, I asked myself quietly, then instantly answered yes. What life could I offer her, other than one of deception, deceit and early death or a prolonged period of incarceration. No, she was better off without me, but for today, I would at least play the part of interested suitor. It would not be becoming of a gentleman, even a fake like me, to be seen to discard her at such a public gathering.

It was as I was feeling proud of myself for putting the girl’s well-being before my own, at least that is what I was telling myself, she suddenly turned to me ‘There’s someone I am just dying for you to meet?’ she said with a bright twinkle in her eye. Instantly I was back on my guard. Who could Ivy want me to meet here of all places? She clearly knew very few people here. Then again, Blackheart and I had never bothered to ask how Bonny and Ivy had come by this invite. I guess we both just presumed we were here because of an acquaintance of Bonny’s, it never crossed my mind that we would be here because of Ivy.

I smiled weakly as I let her take me by the hand and lead me away from the raucous crowd, deeper into Tennant’s place. She took me down a passageway that felt like it was heading towards the rear of the property, when she came upon a large tapestry, which she pushed aside to reveal a solid, if unremarkable door. Ivy knocked smartly upon it and from within a voice said ‘Enter.’ Ivy opened the door and stepped aside, all signs of mirth and merriment gone, ‘Sorry Raif.’ She said with a hard look indicating I should enter. I stepped past her, and into a well-appointed study. Behind me I heard the door close. I did not turn to look back, what would be the point, I could already sense Ivy had not entered the room but had stayed without.

The room now contained three people, me, Blackheart, who looked at me grimly, and a tall slim gentleman, dressed in a perfectly ordinary suit, stood staring out of the one window out across the lawns down to the Thames, hands clasped loosely behind his back. ‘Ah Raif, so good of you to join us,’ the man said, without turning to look at me, ‘Please take a seat, both of you.’ His accent was pure King’s English, and if he wasn’t from the aristocracy, he had been educated at one of the best schools, before making his way through Cambridge or Oxford.

Blackheart shrugged and sat in one of the three wing back chairs in the room, adjusting his Arabic garb so that when sat he remained looking every bit the middle eastern prince. I made no pretence at maintaining any kind of pretence of being from the elite levels of society, be it British or Arabic, and simply flopped into one of the other wing backs.

The man continued to stare out of the window, something about his stance suggested displeasure at what he saw, but whatever may be the cause he was keeping to himself. After a minute passed without him saying anything I cocked my head at Blackheart towards the door, indicating we should, could just leave.

‘You could go, obviously,’ the man said without looking round. And I wondered how the hell did he know that was what I had suggested, ‘but then you would be effectively outlawed and all this,’ he threw one hand up with disdain, ‘would be naught but a memory for you as you rot in one of His Majesty’s darkest, dankest prisons.’

‘Hmmmmmm, I don’t think so,’ said Blackheart, ‘That’s not how His Majesty’s intelligence services work.’

‘Just because we haven’t previously, doesn’t mean we cannot now.’

‘You forget we both worked for you, we know what you can and cannot get away with. The fact we worked for it during the war when the lines between what is and is not allowed become a touch blurred, means we have an even better idea of what the services powers are. No, you can do many things, but you cannot have us arrested. So, either state your business or Raif and I will leave this room and your little game and not so much as look back. And do not think you can touch us, we know where the bodies are buried, literally.’ Blackheart finished confidently.

‘No need to be like that old boy. I am sure we can have a cordial chat.’

‘How old are you? Twenty, twenty-one maybe? Too young to have served in the last hell that’s for sure. So, do not test our patience or our intelligence, we are both quite capable of killing you here and now and without losing a moments sleep.’

The man sighed, as though this was more trouble than it was worth, ‘Very well,’ he turned to face us, moved away from the window, and sat in the third chair, crossing his long legs with an elegant sweep. I knew Blackheart would be sizing the fellow up just as I was. Clean shaven oval face with clear grey intelligent eyes, light brown hair, already thinning, leaving him with a high brow, over which his fringe flopped boyishly. His arms, as his legs were long, his hands delicate with fingers that looked like they would be more suited to playing the piano than dirtying themselves with a swish of a pen that could condemn a thousand men to their doom with a single flourish.

‘Allow me to introduce myself, I am Clarence Fotheringhay of the SIS.’

‘And what do you want with us Mr Fotheringhay.’

‘We want the Coils of the Anaconda back.’

‘Last I heard they’d been stolen.’

‘Yes, by you.’

‘Really, and what makes you think that?’

‘You left your calling card.’ Fotheringhay reached over passing a card to Blackheart.

‘Ah, that.’ Said Blackheart with a laugh, ‘I really do need to stop doing that.’

I put my head in my hands, damn it Blackheart, I thought, you’ve just confessed.

‘But’ Blackheart continued, ‘you cannot prove it was me. It would certainly never stand up in court. Even the Met’s finest knew that.’

‘I have no interest in putting you behind bars Lord Blackheart.’ I winced at that, no one ever called him Lord Blackheart unless they wanted something from him that was likely to be illicit, dangerous or both. ‘Nor do I or my masters care how you did it. However, you have embarrassed the state with your antics and now they would very much like the Coils back so all this can be put behind us.’

‘You are of course assuming we have them.’

‘No, I know you do not. But I know, you know who does.’

‘In which case why don’t you just go and get the item yourself?’

‘Because we both know that we cannot, as much as we would like to, its just not practical. And, you have certain……skills you can apply to this endeavour.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ Blackheart grinned. ‘Though I can see my erstwhile colleague does not share my enthusiasm.’ He said looking over to me.

‘As I see it,’ I said, ‘Mr Fotheringhay hasn’t offered us any reason to play his game.’

‘Yes, unfortunately, I did think you would be rather harder to convince.’ Said Fotheringhay, ‘Our notes do suggest you are the more sensible and practical of this little duo.’

‘Well, one of us needs to be.’ I fired back.

‘Quite, quite. Looking back over your operational files, which are quite impressive, I think its fair to say that without your contributions Mr Mortis, Lord Blackheart would have died, oh, many times over and the missions failed.’

‘Unlike Blackheart, flattery doesn’t work on me.’

‘Are you sure?’ Fotheringhay replied darkly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean.’ I asked suspiciously.

‘All in good time gentlemen. I think, what we need is a drink. What say you, three in the afternoon, suggests to me the sun is well over the yard arm, brandy?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’ Blackheart smiled.

‘What the hell, why not.’ I conceded.

‘Excellent. Well, I must say our host has an exceptional collection, and has a simply gorgeous Armagnac from 1901, I think it will set the tone beautifully for what is to follow.’

‘Why, what is to follow?’ asked Blackheart.

‘A story, gentlemen, a story of how we three came to be sat here, drinking a perfectly divine Armagnac.’

‘Very well, I have nowhere better to be. What say you Raif?’

‘You know me Blackheart, always up for a good story.’ I replied not taking my eyes from Fotheringhay.

‘Excellent, life is so much easier when dealing with gentlemen of taste.’ Fotheringhay smiled benevolently, reached for a small bell perched on a table by his chair and rang it gently. Moments later the door to the study opened and Ivy stepped inside. ‘Be a dear,’ said Fotheringhay, ‘three of the 1901 please.’

I noticed a brief flicker of annoyance cross Ivy’s face, I also noticed she deliberately did not look my way. ‘Very well Sir.’ She said then retreated from the room.

‘Sir?’ I queried turning back to Fotheringhay.

‘All part of the story Mr Mortis. Drinks first, then I will begin.’


Chapter 39 – Threats

Clarence Fotheringhay took an appreciative sip of his 1901 Armagnac, settled back in his chair, flicked his thinning fringe from his eyes with a languid wave of his hand, and began, ‘Well, this is all rather happy happenstance, truly.’ He smiled benignly, like a favourite uncle about to bestow a thrilling tale upon willing nephews. ‘There we were, picking up all sorts of worrying chatter about the Chinese underworld, without a gnat’s idea about how to infiltrate the party and see just what the devil they were planning, when lo and behold, if you two don’t simply swan into the middle of it all.’

Blackheart, looking every bit as relaxed as Fotheringhay, took a mirrored sip from his drink, allowing himself a momentary nod of approval as the dark liquid played pleasingly over his taste buds, asked, ‘Why on earth would the SIS be interested in the Chinese underworld. Surely that’s below your pay grade and interest. Why not just tip off the Yard and leave them to it?’

‘A fair question old boy, and one I wouldn’t normally answer, need to know and all that.’

‘And you don’t think we have a need to know.’ I added bitterly. I had spent too much of my early life being told by people like Fotheringhay that I didn’t need to know, meaning I wasn’t important enough to know, because I was from the wrong class, the wrong school, the wrong county. The war had supposed to have removed that thinking, sadly it had merely entrenched it further.

‘Well, yes.’ Fotheringhay conceded, but then surprised me by saying, ‘But in this case I do not believe it serves any of us to withhold that information. The SIS are involved because the underworld is, from what we can figure out, engaged in obtaining something that in the wrong hands could set China ablaze, which in turn could threaten our possessions in the far east. Hong Kong could fall, and if that goes then other notable colonies could follow. If there is one thing our lords and masters cannot countenance at this time is a loss of territory, prestige, and a weakening of the Empire. I mean should Hong Kong fall, where next, what next? Malaya, Singapore, India? Heaven forbids, that simply wouldn’t do.’

‘Surely, the Government doesn’t see China as a genuine threat?’ asked Blackheart. ‘The place is a technological backwater, riven by petty internal jealousies and rivalries. Why, anything they put to sea our navy could brush aside without so much as a breaking a sweat.’ Blackheart said confidently.

Fotheringhay treated Blackheart to a condescending smile, which by the firming of Blackheart’s jaw I decided did not take overly well, ‘In some ways you are correct. Yes, they have no navy to speak of, their army, such as it is, is poorly equipped, poorly trained, poorly led. But that isn’t the issue per se.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘Sadly no. The war gentlemen financially broke us. While America gained wealth, land, influence from its brief, though appreciated efforts, it has left us weakened. Already the eyes of the world turn to Wyatt and his US delegation to decide the future of a post war Europe, not us, not the French. Well, His Majesty’s government isn’t prepared to simply roll over and be dictated to by our ex colonial cousins, and the only thing that stops that is to maintain our position at the top table.’

‘Haven’t you lot had enough of your power games?’ I sighed despondently. ‘That drive to be in command led us to the bloodiest war the world has ever seen. And for what? Loss of prestige? Power? Who the bloody hell needs it?’

‘My, maybe we should keep our eyes on you Mr Mortis, you sound like a Bolshevik.’

I laughed bitterly, ‘Last I looked they were hell bent on grabbing power in their own lands and expanding their influence. That sounds to me more like you and your kind than me.’

Blackheart lent forward and interrupted, ‘That is all well and good, but you still haven’ t said why Britain should be feeling threatened by Chinese criminals. Okay, so we’re broke, but we are still a power to be reckoned with, and one that certainly the Chinese are in no position to challenge.’

‘Well of course, we could send a couple of Dreadnoughts out there and a company of Marines and let them put the fear of God into them. But what if the Chinese, with support from some nefarious outside power, was to lay some mines that sink one of those Dreadnoughts, then what? We couldn’t let that stand. Retribution would be called for. But we cannot afford such an action right now, either in men, money, or materials. And we certainly cannot afford to be drawn into some far-off military adventure in China. We could get bogged down for years, achieve absolutely nothing except empty the last of the nation’s coffers. Trust me when I say no one is going to be lining up to help Blighty in her hour of need. The vultures are circling gentlemen, and the SIS intends to scare them off for as long as is humanly possible.’

‘Okay,’ said Blackheart, ‘what’s that got to do with us?’

‘The Coils of the Anaconda, obviously.’ Fotheringhay paused for a drink and dramatic effect, ‘In the wrong hands that little item can galvanise a country behind a war lord. A war lord with distinctly unsympathetic leanings towards Britain. And you, gentlemen, have put it in such a war lords’ hands.’

‘If you knew the item was a target, why not simply have it removed from the Museum and lock it away someplace they couldn’t get at it?’ I asked.

‘Because we know it wouldn’t stop there. If they couldn’t get that, something somewhere else would be targeted. Maybe without quite the same pull as the Coils, but still with enough kudos that in the right hands could unite the Chinese behind it. No, we wanted to catch the miscreants trying to take it, then use them to break up their criminal circle and the links back to China. Cut it off at source so to speak.’

‘But you didn’t, did you?’ it was Blackheart’s turn to smile condescendingly.

‘Er, no. We hadn’t expected them to hire you.’

‘You can’t prove they did.’

‘You left your calling card.’

I rubbed my eyes with my hands, gripping my face despondently, ‘It’s not like I haven’t told you to stop doing that.’ I growled.

‘One should be proud of one’s work Raif.’ Blackheart grinned, ‘If we don’t sign our work who is to know it was us?’

‘It was a criminal venture, no one is supposed to know it’s us. Exactly the opposite in fact. But every man and his dog know it was us. The police, the Chinese, this lot?’ I stared grimly at Fotheringhay.

‘And we have to say we are mightily impressed with how you did it. In fact if it wasn’t for the off chance you happened to have become involved with Miss Pettigrew, who just so happens to work for us and overheard some discussions back at the ministry, to which she put two and two together, we may never have fathomed out how you did it, or ever, even with the calling card, be able to prove it was you. Luckily the blossoming romance between you Mr Mortis and Miss Pettigrew allowed us to put her close to you with little or no effort. I must say Ivy had her doubters, but she has proven herself to be an absolutely first-rate field operative. What she has dug up on you two and this little escapade is nothing short of miraculous.’

‘And what of Bonny? What part did she play in all this?’ asked Blackheart.

‘Nothing really. She is oblivious to all that is going on. Ivy really is her old school chum. They really are friends. We have just tapped up certain of Bonny’s society contacts to ensure she was being invited places that would put her and Ivy in direct contact with you, and the rest as they say is history. Lucky happenstance as I say.’

Blackheart took the revelation about Ivy with so much pinch of salt, I on the other hand felt cheated and used, which in truth I had no right to feel. I had throughout all this believed I had been using Ivy. In many ways I was angry at myself for allowing myself to be played, rather than hating on the player herself. But whatever my feelings, from this point any thoughts of a future reconciliation with Ivy were dashed. Everything between us was built on a tissue of lies, and nothing good would ever come of such a union.

‘Well, this has all be very enlightening,’ said Blackheart, ‘but what do you want with us now? We don’t have the Coils. We don’t know where they are being kept. We only have the name of the person who has been pulling all the strings, but we have no other information about said individual. So, what possible use to you are we? And don’t tell me you don’t want to use us or why bother telling us all this?’

Fotheringhay looked at me with just a hint of disappointment ‘I expected you Mr Mortis to be the one getting down to brass tacks, but it seems Lord Blackheart here is the one who wants to rush in. I was so hoping we could have a good old comradely chin wag, but if its business you want then let’s get down to it.’ He took another sip of the Armagnac and when he placed the glass down again his demeanour had changed, the affable face had hardened, his brows knitted together in a serious frown, ‘Very well you will use your contact with Kuàng to get you into the so-called coronation and you will stop it.’

‘What makes you think we have a contact within Kuàng’s organisation?’ Blackheart asked.

‘Her name is Daiyu, isn’t it.’ It was a statement not a question, ‘You will get her to help you do whatever needs to be done. Once you retrieve the Coils you will return them to me.’

‘If you know who she is,’ asked Blackheart, ‘why not coerce her yourself instead of using us?’

‘Firstly, you can get close to her without spooking her. Secondly, she is more likely to take the ultimatum from you better than she will take it from me. Thirdly,’ he held up three fingers, ‘you know the SIS cannot be seen to be directly involved. Technically we know nothing about this and are not involved in domestic affairs. Four, if she decides to double cross anyone it will be you and not us. If someone is going to be found face down in the Thames with am knife in their back, I’d prefer it to be you and not me.’ Fotheringhay smiled coldly. ‘So, there you have it. That is why.’

‘What makes you think she’ll do what you want, even if it us asking?’ I queried.

‘Because you will tell her what will happen to her if she doesn’t’ Fotheringhay smiled the cold smile of a man, despite his young years, of a man used to sending others to their death without compunction. I wondered how many lives he had on his conscious, then instantly rejected the idea as this was a man for who country was everything and spilling the blood of others to maintain the glory of that country, and no doubt uphold his own prestige, meant he had no conscious. He would sacrifice Daiyu, Blackheart and I in an instance and think nothing of it.

‘And what if we refuse?’ I had to ask the question, even though I was unlikely to like the answer.

‘Mrs Heller will be tried for war crimes. She’ll probably be shot as a spy.’ Fotheringhay said matter of fact. ‘Your wonderful aunt will be convicted for aiding and abetting a known war criminal. Needless to say, it won’t go well for her. The family name will be dragged through the mud, her lands, estates, properties will be returned to the Crown for redistribution for someone considered more…., loyal to Britannia. Her staff, well they’ll be out of work and blacklisted. When the SIS is finished with them, they won’t be able to so much as earn a living selling their bodies in the darkest Whitechapel hovel. How long do you think any of them would survive if we cut them off from society totally. A month, two, three at the most?’

I noticed Blackheart’s left hand grip the arm rest of his chair tightly, and eyes narrow to a dangerous squint. I half expected him to jump up and shove his glass down Fotheringhay’s throat where he sat, I was sorely tempted myself, but instead Blackheart kept his seething anger in check and said quietly, ‘I think you underestimate the staff. They are very resilient and would fare better on the street than you. But I don’t wish anything to befall them, so it seems you have us over a barrel. We’ll get you the Coils. But know this, if anything, and I do mean anything, should befall my aunt, Mrs Heller, or the others in the meantime, well, you had better hope the Chinese kill me because I will hunt you down and exact a vengeance that will make Lucifer himself turn away thinking mmm that is a bit much.’

‘Don’t be like that dear boy, who knows this could be the start of something special.’ Fotheringhay grinned cynically.

Blackheart stood stiffly, ‘Come Raif, we have work to do.’

I stood and followed Blackheart from the room. I paused briefly, looking back at Fotheringhay who poured himself another drink and raised it to me in a mock salute. I turned away and followed Blackheart from the room, into the corridor and back towards the party. As we left Ivy stepped into my path ‘How did it go?’ she asked. Her eyes searched mine beseechingly.

‘I think you should ask your boss.’ I replied coldly and pushed by her, without looking back. A line had been crossed, Ivy was SIS and the SIS had just become the enemy.


Chapter 40 – Reverting to type.

Blackheart and I had discussed Fotheringhay’s promises of what would happen to Blackheart’s aunt Margaret, Mrs Heller, and the rest of the staff if we did not do exactly what had been asked of us. Our sad deliberation yielded the absolute certainty that the SIS would follow through with every damn threat if they thought it would protect the empire.

Our only consolation was we had our own desire to bring down Kuàng and his associates regardless of the SIS’s wants. My main reservation was I did not want to bring Daiyu down with everyone else. One way or another I held felt we had let everyone down since we had started on this caper, so if nothing else, I wanted us to keep our promise to her. She was getting out and getting to the US if I had to bloody well swim her there myself.

Blackheart was less sentimental about it all, displaying the stiff upper lip that was congenital to his class. Without missing a beat Blackheart decided that our only option to resolve the whole damn mess was to go back to the beginning.

When he told me what he had in mind I stared at him blankly and said ‘What?’

‘It’s the only way.’

‘Are you mad?’

‘I’m bloody furious old bean, but we’re out of options.’

‘But him, of all people. I thought we were at least going to make sure he got his come-uppance.’

Blackheart sighed heavily, ‘I wanted Kuàng to suffer every bit as much as you, but now we need him, he’s our only way in.’

‘And why should he help us? He’s already got what he needs.’

‘Because we also know his secret, in that he has two sets of the Coils. And if we let that be known it won’t take his own people long to realise, he was planning a double cross, and his life won’t be worth a fortune cookie. No, he needs our help or he’s a dead man. Add in the SIS and he’s out of options. We are his least worst escape plan.’

‘I doubt he will see it like that. Besides, we have already discussed this, and he is just the point man for this Lee Sin character, isn’t that who we really need to rumble?’

‘True, but our only way to him is through Kuàng.’

‘And why would he shop him to us?’

‘I’m not going to give him a choice.’

‘And how do you intend to do this? He isn’t going to meet with us formally. I doubt he’s even going to acknowledge our existence.’

‘True, which is why I am going to pay him a visit. Maybe three. I am going to make it clear he cannot avoid me, escape me, or ignore me.’

‘That sounds, threatening.’

‘It is, but first I am going to play nice, well, semi-nice.’

‘How so?’

‘You are going to contact Daiyu.’

‘I am?’

‘You are. And then you are going to pass her this note.’ Blackheart handed me a sealed envelope.

‘What’s in it?’

‘A time and place. We go there, if he doesn’t show, then we step it up.’

I grimaced slightly to which Blackheart raised a quizzical brow, ‘You have reservations?’

‘Time. We do not have time to play nice. What if this blasted coronation, or whatever it is happens to be tonight? Then the Coils will already be gone, and we are just so much fall out for the SIS.’

‘So, what do you suggest?’ Blackheart asked.

‘As much as I agree we need to rope in Kuàng’s help, I don’t agree we have to be anything other than threatening to him. I still want his blood, so I have no desire to make life easy for him. Why don’t we just lift him as we did with your friend Wong, and let Heller go to town on him till he gives us what we need.’

Blackheart stared at me sadly, ‘Ah Raif, you are meant to be the good one of the pair. I’m the rogue, you are supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow, not the other way around.’ Blackheart rested his head in his right hand, fingers obscuring his eyes, palm the lower half of his face. After what seemed an overlong pause Blackheart dropped his hand away and said earnestly, ‘I’m not letting you lose your soul to this. This mess is on me. I took the job, despite your warnings. I left the calling card, despite your warnings. I tried to play the police and then play Wong. This is all on me. I shall find a way to sort it, without Heller’s deft ministrations or you having to put a bullet in Kuàng. Go back to Maidenhead and keep Margaret and the others safe.’

I took a moment to fully comprehend Blackheart’s words, he was not one to apologise, for anything. And yet while some of what he said was true, especially that bloody calling card, I was not an innocent in all of this. I could have stopped him had I wished, but I clearly had not wished enough because at no point had I reigned him in or walked out on the job. No, I was as much to blame as he, and so I was not about to let Blackheart see this out alone.

‘Thanks,’ I said honestly, ‘but we’re seeing this through to the end together. And if you think I could keep Margaret safer than she could keep herself, then you’ve rocks in your head. She would probably end up defending me.’

Blackheart grinned, though there was little mirth in it, ‘So be it. Brothers in arms to the end.’

‘To the end.’

‘Okay then, maybe we need to revert to our previous plan, the one we were looking to embark upon before we were so rudely interrupted by the SIS.’

‘The bloody warehouse.’ I swore, how was it we had let ourselves get so distracted. ‘We were planning to raid Kuàng’s warehouse.’

‘You still up for that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, we still don’t know how much time we have before the coronation, so we need to do this quick. We need Kuàng on the back foot.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Okay, I will source some of the things we need to raid Kuàng’s place, but I still need you to talk to Daiyu.’

‘You still want me to hand over this letter?’

‘No, I want you to find out what is the next key date in the Chinese calendar. As I see it, they will want to perform the coronation on a key date. Let’s face it no one is crowned on a random Tuesday. No, there must be a significance to when a ceremony takes place. Talk to her, find out what the next important date is and what the Chinese normally do on that date. Also warm her about the SIS, she deserves to know.’

I nodded cautiously, ‘The only way I am going to be able to get to her quick is to go back to the Albemarle Club and hope Kuàng’s there and has brought her along.’

‘Can you do that tonight?’

‘It’s Friday, I don’t see why not.’

‘Okay, then as a precaution, take Ivy with you.’

‘WHAT?’

‘They are less likely to take you out back and shoot you if a young lady accompanies you, especially one they have seen you with before. You could ask Lavinia, but then she’s not SIS, so let us keep her clear of this. Ivy is working for those who most want this done, she is practically honour bound to do it. And if they do take you and a lady outside to be shot, should they be that brazen, well rather her than Lavinia.’ He finished coldly.

I could feel my pulse racing, and my teeth grinding, but I also couldn’t fault his logic, cold and hard as it was. Not trusting myself to speak, for fear of betraying my feelings, I nodded and got up from the table in the corner booth where we sat and left Blackheart behind.

‘If all goes well,’ I heard him say behind me, ‘I will meet you at the railway Arch we took Wong to at midday tomorrow.’ I didn’t look back but went to the public phone booth in the hotel lobby, steeling myself to make the call to Ivy, cursing the day I had ever set eyes upon her.