Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [62]
He would have to do it carefully, of course. He would go around after Jones, make sure he took it, then arrest him. The bogus notes, whose forger he could never give away because he did not know him, would be grounds to hold him in prison for several days, even a week, quite long enough for Pitt to have an excellent chance to meet his masters.
Now Tellman was too wide awake to sleep, but his mind was made up. All that was still left to decide was who would he take with him to make the arrest. He dared not do it alone in case Jones fought, which he well might. In an area like Mile End or Whitechapel, there were enough dark alleys or closed-in courts for him to pull a knife on Tellman, and escape. No one would come to Tellman’s aid, and he dared not look to the local police anyway. Any one of them could be as corrupt as Jones himself, could even be Jones’s master, or a middleman between the two.
He lay down, and did eventually sleep fitfully, but woke up with his mind turned again immediately to whom he could trust to take with him.
In the event he had very little choice. It was either Stubbs or Cobham. Cobham was new, and disinclined to take orders easily. He tended to question, to want reasons for everything, and there was no time for explanations. It had to be Stubbs. All he knew about him was that, like Tellman himself, he was the oldest of a large family. He spoke occasionally of his mother but never his father. Perhaps he was dead. Stubbs might have ambitions or loyalties of his own, but that was true of everyone. Fear of that could stop Tellman from ever taking a step at all. That was one of the worst things about corruption, it crippled action, it blurred any decision until in the end you doubted everyone, even your ability to be right about yourself. It was a cool morning with a slight mist over the river and he set out very early to collect the forged note. By eight o’clock he had seen the landlord of the public house most likely to pay it on to Jones without giving him the slightest hint that there was anything unusual in this installment. But just to be as sure as possible, Tellman reminded him of the unpleasantness he would face were the operation to fail, as well as the advantages to his future if it succeeded.
By nine o’clock he was at Bow Street as usual, about his duties and keeping well away from Wetron’s path. He decided not to risk telling Stubbs he would require him; instead, by lunchtime, he collected Stubbs from where he was writing up his paperwork in the ledger and said he had a job for him. Stubbs, who hated writing, was delighted to accept.
They went together and questioned a pawnbroker about a stolen silver urn and pair of candlesticks. It was something Tellman could perfectly well have done alone, and they went farther east as if to continue the search. They had an amiable lunch at the Smithfield Tavern, then walked quietly towards the public house where Tellman expected Jones to collect extortion money. He had considered picking him up earlier, closer to where he lived, and following him until he reached the one where the note was. However, if Stubbs were loyal to the Circle, or anyone in it, in debt to them, or afraid, or even simply careless, he might manage to get some warning to Jones.
So they were obliged to wait. The sky clouded over and occasional showers made them colder and left them shivering. Stubbs was growing steadily more puzzled, and less happy.
Tellman chose not to explain. It would involve too many details he was not willing