The William Monk Mysteries_ The First Three Novels - Anne Perry [110]
Jake’s face split in a grin.
“I already got it, Mr. Monk.” He held up a bright coin. “Fink I fergot ’ow ter do it, did yer? I used ter be a fine wirer, I did, w’en I were younger.” He laughed and slipped it into his pocket. “I were taught by the best kids-man in ve business. I’ll be seein’ yer, Mr. Monk; yer owes me anuvver, if yer gets vem fieves.”
Monk smiled in spite of himself. The man was a pickpocket, but he had been taught by one of those who make their own living by teaching children to steal for them, and taking the profits in return for the child’s keep. It was an apprenticeship in survival. Perhaps his only alternative had been starvation, like the child they had passed. Only the quick-fingered, the strong and the lucky reached adulthood. Monk could not afford to indulge in judgment, and he was too torn with pity and anger to try.
“It’s yours, Jack, if I get them,” he promised, then started up the last flight and Evan followed. At the top he opened the door without knocking.
Blind Tommy must have been expecting him. He was a dapper little man, about five feet tall with a sharp, ugly face, and dressed in a manner he himself would have described as “flash.” He was apparently no more than shortsighted because he saw Monk immediately and knew who he was.
“’Evenin’, Mr. Monk. I ’ears as yer lookin’ fer a screever, a partic’lar one, like?”
“That’s right, Tommy. I want one who made some fakements for two rampsmen who robbed a house in Mecklenburg Square. Went in pretending to be Peelers.”
Tommy’s face lit up with amusement.
“I like that,” he admitted. “It’s a smart lay, vat is.”
“Providing you don’t get caught.”
“Wot’s it worf?” Tommy’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s murder, Tommy. Whoever did it’ll be topped, and whoever helps them stands a good chance of getting the boat.”
“Oh Gawd!” Tommy’s face paled visibly. “I ’an’t no fancy for Horstralia. Boats don’t suit me at all, vey don’t. Men wasn’t meant ter go orf all over like vat! In’t nat’ral. An’ ’orrible stories I’ve ’eard about vem parts.” He shivered dramatically. “Full o’ savages an’ creatures wot weren’t never made by no Christian Gawd. Fings wif dozens ’o legs, an ‘fings wi’ no legs at all. Ugh!” He rolled his eyes. “Right ’eathen place, it is.”
“Then don’t run any risk of being sent there,” Monk advised without any sympathy. “Find me this screever.”
“Are yer sure it’s murder?” Tommy was still not entirely convinced. Monk wondered how much it was a matter of loyalties, and how much simply a weighing of one advantage against another.
“Of course I’m sure!” he said with a low, level voice. He knew the threat was implicit in it. “Murder and robbery. Silver and jade stolen. Know anything about a jade dancing lady, pink jade, about six inches high?”
Tommy was defensive, a thin, nasal quality of fear in his tone.
“Fencin’s not my life, guv. Don’t do none o’ vat—don’t yer try an’ hike vat on me.”
“The screever?” Monk said flatly.
“Yeah, well I’ll take yer. Anyfink in it fer me?” Hope seldom died. If the fearful reality of the rookery did not kill it, Monk certainly could not.
“If it’s the right man,” he grunted.
Tommy took them through another labyrinth of alleys and stairways, but Monk wondered how much distance they had actually covered. He had a strong feeling it was more to lose their sense of direction than to travel above a few hundred yards. Eventually they stopped at another large door, and after a sharp knock, Blind Tommy disappeared and the door swung open in front of them.
The room inside was bright and smelled of burning.
Monk stepped in, then looked up involuntarily and saw glass skylights. He saw down the walls where there were large windows as well. Of course—light for a forger’s careful pen.
The man inside turned to look at the intruders. He was squat, with powerful shoulders and large spatulate hands. His face was pale-skinned but ingrained with the dirt of years, and his colorless hair stuck to his head in thin spikes.
“Well?” he demanded irritably. When he spoke Monk saw his teeth were short and black; Monk fancied he could