Belle - Lesley Pearse [235]
‘But surely Belle would know that?’
‘Her mother never wrote her a letter; the most Belle would’ve seen was a few scrawled shopping lists. She’d not even seen that for over two years. And I don’t think Annie would say that about not wanting to come here; she’s a lot of things but she isn’t a coward.’
Jimmy looked at the letter again. ‘Maiden Lane, that’s where I broke into that office. It was a club then, but they closed it down eighteen months ago.’ He looked at Mog, his eyes suddenly sparking with fire. ‘This is Kent’s doing. He’s got her there. You tell Garth, and get the police to come down to Maiden Lane. Tell him it’s the old club next to the back door of the theatre. I’m going there now.’
‘No, Jimmy, he’s got a gun!’ Mog said in horror, but she was too late. He was already rushing for the door, stopping only to pick up a cudgel Garth kept for threatening would-be troublemakers.
He ran down through the market like the wind. He heard people shout to him but he didn’t stop or even shout back. There was only one thought in his head: he had to save Belle.
At Maiden Lane he was forced to stop for a moment as he had a stitch and was out of breath. He bent over till the stitch went, then went to the door of the old club. He could see by the refuse around it that it wasn’t in regular use any more. It was his guess that James Colm, the man who used to run the club, had given Kent a key to hole up in here until the heat died down. Even though the police did know Colm was involved with the trade in young girls, they probably hadn’t considered Kent might be here as the club had been closed down for so long.
The door didn’t look very strong, but as Jimmy lifted the cudgel to smash it in, he realized Kent would hear him and he’d be ready and waiting with his gun. He might even shoot Belle too.
There was nothing for it but to climb up the front of the building and go in through the window.
He ran round to the Strand, remembering how the last time he’d gone in there he was afraid of being seen. That didn’t matter now, but he did hope that anyone watching wouldn’t create a hue and cry so that Kent was alerted something was going on.
Tucking the cudgel into his shirt, Jimmy began to climb. He was much stronger now than he had been back then, and he shinned up the drainpipe effortlessly and stepped on to the window sill of the old office. The windows were so black with grime it was hard to see in, but standing well back to the side and hoping the curtains he remembered were still hanging to hide him, he rubbed enough of a patch on the glass to peer in.
The office was in a shambles. He could see an old mattress on the rubbish-strewn floor. The filing cabinets were gone, but the desk remained, and Kent was sitting at it, poring over what appeared to be a map.
He was facing the window: one sound from Jimmy and he’d look up. Jimmy peeped through the hole again, hoping to see the man’s gun. But if it was lying somewhere in that room it was out of his line of vision. There was no sign of Belle but then she was probably out back in the old club.
Jimmy shrank back as he considered what to do. He thought of climbing down and asking someone in one of the shops below to go round the back and hammer on the door. That might make Kent go to investigate and he could smash through the window once his back was turned. But Kent would almost certainly pick up his gun and take it with him. Jimmy wasn’t prepared to run the risk of Belle being hurt.
He peered in again and marvelled at how calm the man appeared to be, sitting there studying his map as if he was merely planning a holiday. But he wasn’t looking dapper the way he had been when Jimmy had spied on him two years earlier. Back then his hair had been dark, only grey at the temples, but now it was all grey and so long it hung over his filthy, collarless shirt. He hadn’t shaved for some time, but not long enough to have grown a beard. His once neatly trimmed military-style moustache was like a bush, virtually concealing his lips.
A few people on the