Backstreet Child (68 page)

‘Let’s say I’m someone who’s lookin’ fer Galloway too. I’ve bin waitin’ fer ’im ter come back ’ere wiv the dosh ’e owes me an’ my pals,’ the big man replied, getting up from the floor.

Tony got to his feet and stared at the man. ‘I’ve gotta find ’im quick,’ he said urgently. ‘ ’E’s gone off ’is ’ead, an’ ’e’s kidnapped my fiancée.’

The man turned towards the door as the sound of Joe’s voice carried into the yard. ‘Who’s wiv yer?’ he asked quickly.

‘It’s me gel’s stepfarvver an’ a friend,’ Tony told him.

The man crossed the yard, with Tony following on his heels. He slid the bolt of the wicket gate and ducked out into the street.

‘Let’s go find Alan Wichello,’ he said simply.

Rachel had stumbled onto her knees as she was pushed into the filthy storeroom and she screamed out to Frank Galloway as the door was slammed shut on her. She clambered to her feet and rubbed her grazed knee. In the dim light that came down from a high barred window she looked around at the room. It was empty apart from a wooden bench on one side and a row of bare shelves on the other. A naked wire hung from the ceiling and the light switch was hanging down off the wall. The floor was littered with cardboard and scraps of paper and the place reeked of decay.

Rachel had realised very soon after getting into the taxi that Frank Galloway was mad, and that she would have to remain calm and not agitate him in any way if she were to have any chance of survival. Help would come, she knew, but they would have to find her first, she thought with sudden panic. It could take days. She tried the door but she could tell that it was securely bolted from the outside. The window was too high to reach and it was barred. Rachel involuntarily brought a hand up to her mouth as she looked down at the paper and cardboard strewn around the floor, suddenly realising that there could be rats nesting there. She crept over to the empty shelves and found a loose length of wood which she wielded like a club as she very gingerly moved the litter with her foot. When she found nothing, she leaned against the bench, trembling with the very thought of having to kill the things.

For what seemed an age, Rachel stayed pressed against the wooden workbench, trying to stay calm. They would all be looking for her now, she told herself. She would have to help them locate her somehow. What could she do, though?

Suddenly she stood up straight and went over to the empty shelves, picking up another length of wood. Working slowly and as quietly as she could, she began prising the shelving loose, and after several minutes she had succeeded in removing two long battens. She pulled up her skirt and tore a strip from her cotton slip, using it to bind the two lengths of wood end to end. Very carefully she lifted the long pole to the window and prodded at the glass. She tried again and again until her arms were exhausted, but it was thick factory glass and resisted all her efforts to break it.

Rachel sat down on the filthy floor and rested her head in her hands, willing herself not to give way to her fear. Tony would find her. He would find her somehow, she told herself.

Alan Wichello had been phoned and he joined the small group who were waiting in a little pub off Jamaica Road. After he had introduced himself, he sat down and opened his wallet. ‘Get us all a Scotch, Jim. I think we could all do with one,’ he told his associate. ‘I want to get the drift.’

By the time Jim returned with the drinks, Alan Wichello had been briefed and he was stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘Now let’s think this thing out,’ he said, toying with his glass. ‘We know that Rachel was taken by taxi from your yard, and we know that she wasn’t taken to the Galloway yard. Now from what this prosser told you, Galloway was desperate for somewhere to hole up in. Would he take the girl back to the prosser’s flat?’

Sammy shook his head. ‘I’m sure ’e wouldn’t go there. ’E knows I keep me eye open fer the women an’ I’d wanna know what ’e was doin’ wiv the gel,’ he replied.

Alan looked at Sammy with distaste. ‘Pity you didn’t do your job properly in the first place,’ he said quickly, turning to his helper. ‘Jim, go with Sammy here and check out the prosser’s flat. Hang around there in case he shows up, but keep out of sight. Remember, the man’s crazy and we don’t know how he’s thinking. He could be out to silence her.’ The two men left and Alan looked slowly from Joe to Tony. ‘We’ve also got to remember that Rachel knows who he is, so we’ve got to find her quick,’ he added, voicing the fear that was already eating into Joe and Tony.

‘There’s a lot o’ derelict ware’ouses an’ wharves on the riverside,’ Joe said, sighing with frustration. ‘Rachel could be in any one o’ those.’

Alan Wichello suddenly gulped his drink and put the glass down with a bang. ‘You’ve just give me an idea. I won’t be a minute,’ he said, getting up and taking some coppers from his trouser pocket.

Joe and Tony watched as the bookmaker went to the bar and exchanged a few words with the publican, then they saw him disappear behind the counter. A few minutes later he was back. ‘C’mon, chaps, I think we’re on a winner. I’ll explain in the car,’ he said urgently.

Joe and Tony followed him out of the pub and within moments they were being driven towards Rotherhithe Tunnel. Alan sat back behind the wheel, staring straight ahead as he steered the Bentley along the quiet Jamaica Road.

‘You got me thinking when you mentioned the derelict warehouses,’ he said, glancing briefly at Joe. ‘There was mention of forming a local consortium at our lodge some time ago. Certain members were talking about raising capital to renovate a riverside warehouse and turn it into a furniture factory. Galloway was a member of the lodge at the time, though he’s since resigned. He was one of the people interested in the project. I couldn’t remember exactly where the property was, so I phoned a pal of mine who was involved. He told me it’s in Wapping and I’ve got the directions. Now you realise that this is a long shot,’ he said with emphasis. ‘But I remember Galloway being enthusiastic about the property at the time, and I remember him saying that he had looked it over, so we could be on the right track, fingers crossed.’

Joe turned to Tony as the car drove through the Rotherhithe Tunnel. ‘I owe young Rachel,’ he said. ‘I want the first chance with Galloway.’

Tony smiled bitterly. ‘After I’ve finished wiv Frank Galloway, you can ’ave ’im,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘I’ve got two good reasons ter be first, Joe. I’m gonna marry Rachel, an’ remember it was Galloway who set my ’ouse alight. Galloway’s mine.’

Alan lifted one hand from the wheel and wagged his finger. ‘You two had better not forget that Frank Galloway’s crazy, and that makes him very dangerous,’ he reminded them. ‘Besides, he might have gone back to the prosser’s flat. If so, you can rest assured Jim’ll get him.’

The car came out of the tunnel and swung down into the narrow riverside lane. ‘Here we are,’ Alan said, pulling up at the kerb. ‘Now let’s watch each other’s backs and keep our wits about us. If he’s here, we’ll have him.’

The three men walked cautiously into the litter-strewn yard and Joe spotted the opening in the brickwork. ‘This looks like a way in,’ he said.

Frank had started to feel more at ease after crossing the river, for he knew that Wichello did not have any influence in east London, but he had to go back. He had been stupid to tell Gloria about killing her friend Lola. She, too, would now have to be silenced for good.

He took a taxi back to Rotherhithe and was pleased to see that there was no sign of Sammy as he arrived at the buildings. When he let himself into Gloria’s flat, panic seized him – she had somehow managed to get free. Everything was starting to go wrong again, he groaned to himself, squeezing his temples to ease the pain that came back to torture him.

As he hurried out of the buildings, he saw a taxi turning into the street and he rushed across into an alley opposite which led towards the tunnel. It was them, he thought. They were coming for him. He must get back to Wapping right away. He ran along to the tunnel steps and dashed down the footpath. There was no more money for taxis.

He hurried along the smoky tunnel, trying to focus his mind on what he had to do. They would pay the money for the girl and then he would get right away, from the ailing business, from Bella, from everyone, and he would start afresh someplace where nobody knew him. Once this was over, he would be able to rest and the pain would leave him, he felt sure. It was blinding him, making it difficult to think clearly, but he knew instinctively that he had to cover his tracks. They would get the girl back but, like Gloria, she would have to be silenced first. Frank stopped in his tracks, suddenly remembering that he had not killed the prostitute. But he hadn’t been able to. He remembered now. She had gone when he got back. If only this headache would stop pounding, he groaned as he hurried on once more.

At the end of the tunnel he turned down the path towards the warehouse and as he ran towards it he saw the Bentley parked at the kerb. His heart missed a beat as he recognised the car. Wichello was in the warehouse waiting for him, he realised. Well, he would deal with him as well as the rest. They were all the same. Everyone was against him but he had to survive somehow. He felt the knife in his belt as he crept silently across the yard and into the building, reckoning that as he was familiar with the layout, he had the edge.

As he tiptoed into the dim interior he saw the three figures in front of him and moved quickly into an alcove. He watched them turning round and coming back towards him. He knew they were looking for the stairs and would have to pass him. He slunk deeper into the shadows and waited. He could see that Wichello was leading the way, followed by Joe Maitland and Tony O’Reilly who was bringing up the rear. Frank drew his knife and as the young soldier came abreast of him, he suddenly lunged out. Tony uttered a startled cry and staggered to his knees holding his side. His two companions turned to see Frank running away into the shadows. Joe bent down to Tony, but he waved him away. ‘I’m all right. Get ’im!’ he groaned.

Joe hesitated as he saw the blood oozing from between Tony’s fingers, but the young man was insistent. ‘Don’t let ’im get away!’ he shouted.

Alan was already in pursuit and Joe hurried after him. They ran up the long flight of stairs and as they reached the next landing, they heard the sound of bolts being slid and then a scream. They could see Frank clearly now. He was standing in the middle of the warehouse floor, holding Rachel with one arm round her waist and the carving knife pressed against her chin.

‘Come any closer and I’ll cut her throat,’ he shouted.

‘Yer finished, Galloway,’ Joe shouted back. ‘Let ’er go.’

The bookmaker laid his hand on Joe’s arm. ‘Careful. Let me talk to him,’ he said quietly.

‘Go home and wait for my call, like I told you,’ Frank called out.

‘All right, let the girl go and you and I can have a talk,’ Alan said calmly. ‘You must see the sense in it.’

‘Sense nothing. I’m done with the lot of you. You’re all against me,’ Frank shouted.

‘He’s really cracked up,’ Alan hissed to Joe.

Through her fear Rachel saw Tony staggering out of the shadows, holding his side, soaked in blood. He walked slowly towards them, bent almost double, and Rachel screamed, ‘Tony! Tony!’

Frank moved the knife against her throat. ‘Keep away, do you hear?’ he shouted.

Suddenly Tony fell headlong onto his face and Frank started.

Rachel saw her chance. She reached up, grabbing the hand holding the knife and sinking her teeth into the thumb. Joe immediately sprang at Frank and his fist landed full in his face. Alan dashed forward and between them the two men managed to wrestle the knife away from the madman. Rachel rushed to Tony, her blonde hair hanging over his face as she bent down and cuddled him to her. ‘Yer mustn’t die, d’yer ’ear me?’ she cried.

Suddenly Frank broke free and he backed away, his eyes staring wildly at his adversaries. He looked from right to left, like a cornered animal, then with a maniacal scream he dashed to a crane door and stood balancing precariously on the footboard above the yard.

‘I fooled you, I fooled the lot of you,’ he laughed, a wild, desperate laugh. Then he turned and dived head first into the yard.

Alan Wichello and Joe came out into the quiet lane supporting Tony between them, while Rachel held a handkerchief pressed against his side. They sat him down gently on the kerb. The bookmaker had already rushed up the road to phone for an ambulance, and Joe had covered the body of Frank Galloway with a piece of tarpaulin that he found in the yard.

Rachel crouched down beside Tony and stroked his hair. ‘’E’ll be all right, won’t ’e, Joe?’ she asked fearfully.

Joe nodded and smiled at her. ‘Tony’s gonna be fine, ain’t yer, son?’

Tony smiled briefly. ‘Bet yer life. We’ve got a weddin’ ter fix up,’ he replied.

Rachel kissed his cheek. ‘Soon as we can,’ she said smiling. Then she turned to Joe. ‘I knew yer’d come fer me, Joebo.’

‘I’ad to, luv,’ Joe told her. ‘I owed yer. Yer came fer me once, remember?’

Chapter Forty-Two

All day long family and friends had called to see Nellie Tanner as she lay very ill in her little back bedroom. Danny and Iris came and returned later with their children at Nellie’s behest, and Billy came round with Annie. Carrie had spent most of the time sitting with her mother as the pneumonia raged, and during her periods of wakefulness Nellie had much to say. Tony had been an early visitor that day, along with Rachel, and Nellie was quick to advise them on their forthcoming marriage.