Moriarty (30 page)

“Ember, you will also take four good lurkers and be ready to take over this man from Terremant here, when he shepherds him into Victoria Station. I warn you both that you must take the utmost care: Do not make obvious signals, for you may be watched; and be careful should it be necessary to speak to one another. I would suggest that you use a cipher to describe the gentleman you are to watch. Nursery rhymes are the easiest to remember, so maybe we should call him ‘Little Boy Blue.' You understand?”

They all nodded, and Lee Chow spoke aloud. “Ah, Ritter Boy Brue,” he said. And again, “Ritter Boy Brue.”

“He's the one what blew up his horn,” Ember said, somewhat lasciviously.

“Quite right, Ember. Quite right.” The Professor, unsmiling, glanced around the table again, then asked for individual reports.

Both Spear and Terremant, sounding most happy, said that the backsliders returning to the Professor's employ seemed to have built into a steady flow. “Word is getting around,” Terremant told them.
“Now, I don't have to issue any threats at all. You are back, Professor, and they know it; there is general happiness about that. Last night, for instance, everyone down Cheapside knew you are here in London, and they was all keen to make sure you knew they had come back, true to you.”

The Professor looked pleased and gave out a farthing's worth of praise; then he asked how matters were in King Street, meaning at the house where Detective Inspector Angus McCready Crow lived with his wife, formerly the widow Mrs. Sylvia Cowels.

It was Spear who answered. “The people I've put on there—Cresswell, Dixon, Roberts, and Wilson—all say the same thing, Professor. They reckon Mr. Crow is getting short of money. Almost coals, some say.
*
Mrs. Crow is running him ragged; never rests, always out at the shops. Buying much on tick, and the bills all wait to be paid. She is beggaring him.”

“And his contact with Holmes?”

“None. Nor while we were abroad either. Cresswell and Dixon kept a loose watch all the time we were away. There were no reports of contact with Holmes.”

“That's all to the good then.”

Lee Chow appeared to be puzzled, preoccupied. Suddenly he asked, “Rittle Boy Brue? Where he rive when we bling him in London, chop-chop. We bling him hea'?”

“No,” Moriarty explained carefully. “No. He is to come with you to Captain Ratford's place, where you are living. Keep him well hidden there; I do not want to see him abroad on the streets. Provide him with any luxury he requires. Understand, Bert?” His eyes gimleted into
Spear's head, as though carrying some special message physically into his brain.

“I'll see to it, Chief,” Spear remarked. “You need have no fears on that score, sir.”

Moriarty nodded in a sage manner, then asked if there were any other matters they wanted to air at this point and they began muttering one to another, exchanging ideas, as Moriarty ran a thumbnail down his cheek, from a little below the eye to his jawline. Then his head moved, reptilian-like, from side to side for almost a full minute as he waited.

A shade too loudly, Terremant spoke to Pip Paget. “A fine French perfume your wife Fanny's wearing, Pip. How does a gamekeeper go around buying that kind of bottled juice?”

Paget did not seem in any way perturbed. “I have a good friend who is first mate on a barque that often calls into a French port on its way back from longer journeys.”

Moriarty seemed suddenly most interested. “What's the name of this ship and her captain, Pip?”

“She's the
Colleen of Cork
, out of Plymouth usually, Professor. Captain name of Michael Trewinard, Devonshire man. His first mate a man called Carpenter. Bernard Carpenter. I know about the captain because Mr. Carpenter's told me about him. Lived at one time in the village of Twin Willows, on Sir John Grant's estate—Bernard Carpenter, that is. It was Sir John who introduced me to him. A nice, good-hearted man who brings in things like perfume, silk, and the like and sells them off cheap—no excise duty, I suppose.”

Moriarty's hand went to his face once more, and he again ran his thumbnail down his cheek, as far as the jawline. “
Colleen of Cork
,” he said, as if musing. “You know who that captain works his ship for, Pip?”

“Well, hisself I suppose.”

“No!” The head movement from side to side again, as though the great man had started to become anxious. “No, Pip. Captain Trewinard, and his crew, and I suppose his first mate also, work for someone else. They work for Idle Jack, bringing in youngsters, children—girls mostly—to satisfy the lusts of Idle Jack's customers.”

A few moments later, Moriarty gave another instruction after some careful questions: “Bert Spear, who do you trust more, your man Judge, or George Gittins? Glittering George Gittins?”

“I trust both of them equally, Chief.”

“Let us use Gittins, then. I want him to pick a team of loyal men, as many as he thinks he will require. He is to put a permanent watch on Idle Jack's house in Bedford Square, front and rear. This is to be quiet, no flash moves, nothing that will stand out, but he is to watch, mark, and learn, make note, deduce what is going on.”

Spear said he understood and would see to it.

“Get him up here, Bert. Get him here today. I shall need to speak with him. Instruct him in certain matters.”

Then each of them in turn, except for Pip Paget, began to go through all the people who had expressed a wish to talk face to face with the Professor. Spear ticked names off with his fingers: “Knight and Richards want to talk about a blagging they have in mind; Stimpson, Taylor, Murch, and Smith all wish to talk over various matters. Then Amy Stencil, Gertie Ward, and Emma Baisley kept me for nearly an hour last night. They have a proposition to put forward that is good, worth thinking about.” He explained that they had this clever idea: advertising for men visiting London on their own and wishing to have a lady for company—nicely spoken, well turned out, and intelligent young women. “Good conversation and all that, just to go out around the town. No strings attached; go to the theatre, have dinner, what have you. Flat fee paid directly to the business. If the man
wants more, then the girl is free to indicate her willingness—or not, as the case may be. You follow, Professor?”

“This sounds promising. Yes, of course I will see them, and I shall talk with Sal about the idea.”

Ember had a man called Roger Prince who reckoned he had been swindled by two other members of the family and wanted to see justice done; while Lee Chow was desirous of the Professor meeting a young Anglo-Chinese girl called Jeannie Chang, with whom he was seriously thinking of setting up house, wanting the Professor's blessing first. “She good housekeeping, and make excerrent bang-bang in the night—a'ways wirring.”

The others tried to hide their smiles, and “a'ways wirring” became a catch phrase after the manner of George Robey's famous “Kindly temper your hilarity with a modicum of reserve.”

A
T JUST BEFORE MIDDAY
, the meeting finally broke up, but only after Moriarty had given vent to a heavy head of ire. “There are four ships,” he told them. “I grant you had no way of knowing, Pip; the
Colleen of Cork
is but one. The others—so you will know next time—are
Midnight Kiss
, with her captain, Ebeneezer Jephcote. There is also William Evans and his craft,
Sea Dancer;
also Captain Corny Trebethik, a fine Cornishman this time—he has a barque named
Pride of the Morning
. All four of them work for Idle Jack Idell, and I would be obliged if you would all do me a great service. Put your heads together, and so decide how we can put an end to this vile trade in children. For mark me, that is what these ships are for; their cargos are children, nothing but children, set aside for unnatural practises. Think about it. Then come and tell me what we should do.”

At fifteen minutes past noon, Sam knocked at the door and came
in to face the Professor, exactly as he had been instructed to do by Terremant.

“Ah, my boy.” Moriarty gave the lad a welcoming smile, putting him at his ease. “You are Samuel. Sam. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir. Samuel Brock.”

“Brock, eh? Brock as in badger. Samuel. Do you know who I am?”

“You are the Professor, sir. Professor Moriarty.”

Moriarty grunted. “Not quite, Sam. I am Professor Moriarty”—he pronounced the name in his own unique way, rolling the second
R
and seeming to add a letter so that it came out as “Mor-ia-rrri-ty.” It was the manner in which he always pronounced it, singular to him.

“Now, Sam Brock. Are you loyal to me? Will you do as I tell you? Will you keep your mouth shut? Can I depend on you?”

“Of course, sir. You can depend on me in all things. I will be loyal to you. Loyal and true unto death.”

“Did Mr. Terremant tell you to say these things?”

“Mr. Terremant and Mr. Spear both, sir. But I mean it. I shall remain loyal to you. Unto death I shall be your man.”

“You were loyal to Sir Jack Idell once, though, Sam. You reckoned Idle Jack as your master. Why did you do that?”

“I did that for money, Professor. Now I pledge myself to you for deeper reasons.”

James Moriarty gave a dark smile of satisfaction that reached cavernously into his heart but not to his eyes. “It may be, Sam, that you are to be tested.”

“Good, sir. May I serve you well.”

“Indeed. Listen to me and answer faithfully and true. Did Idle Jack trust you?”

“Completely, sir. Yes.”

“Would he trust you again?”

“I think so. If you want me to make him trust me, yes, I can do that. Idle Jack is…” He searched for the word. “He is… pliable, sir; he will believe what he wishes to believe.”

Moriarty nodded and his head moved from side to side once more, as though he had no true control over the movements. He thought to himself,
out of the mouths of babes and sucklings
. This boy, he reckoned, would go far, for he already had the makings of a man who could read the ways of others. Moriarty had long believed that Jack Idell could be manipulated by a deviously minded man. “Good boy,” he said. “Now, tell me about yourself. What and who was your father?”

“Robert Brock. Ostler at a coaching inn, well known in Canterbury.”

“And your mother?”

“Elizabeth Spurgeon. Chambermaid at the same inn. They was married on account of me, sir.”

“Ah, that is good. A family spliced together and tightened by children and vows is a family that will last and stand all the tests of time. Have you any schooling?”

“Yes, sir. I can read and write and do my sums.”

“Is Mr. Spear paying you properly?”

“He is, sir; and I am sending a portion of my wages home to my mother, just as Mr. Spear suggested.”

“Now, Samuel. None of what I am about to say should go outside this room. You are not to prattle about it to anyone else.” Then his voice barked, “Anyone. You understand me, lad? Nobody, not even Mr. Spear or Mr. Terremant is to learn of this. And certainly not the boy Taplin. Not a soul but you and myself, young Samuel.

“Do this right for me and I can promise you a place in my family as high as Mr. Spear's. If you are disloyal then, even if I am dead I shall hunt you down and destroy the last traces of you. Make no mistake about it, Sam.”

“What am I to do, Professor?” Samuel sat back, looking contained and in good humour; yet inside, his brain seemed to be roiling with excitement. This was, to him, the start of a huge adventure.

“You are to return to Sir Jack Idell. You are to crawl back to him like a whipped cur. You are to tell him that we attempted to coerce you—you understand?—that we beat you and ill-treated you; that we scoffed at Idle Jack and his designs on my family. Mock us, Samuel, mock us; tell him we are the very dregs of society—he will like that. Tell him that the Professor is rebuilding his family. Tell him that we hold him in contempt. You follow me?”

“I follow you, yes, Professor.”

“Now,” Moriarty continued, “this must work both ways. Here, people are to believe that you have slipped out, got away. Make your own plans for that. Everyone here in the house has to believe that you have gone of your own volition. You understand that? Of your own free will.”

“Of course, sir. Nobody will know …”

“It must come as a surprise, and I shall show great anger when your absence is reported.” He held out a key to the boy. “This is an extra key I have had cut, in secret. It will fit the back door and help you steal away.”

“And what am I to do, sir, when I get to Idle Jack? I would kill him if you so ordered it.”

“No. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. Watch and listen, because I wish to be warned about all Jack intends to do; I want to know which people are closest to him, what they are plotting. I need to know everything well in advance.”

“I will find out everything and anything, Professor. But how shall I let you know what I find?”

“You say you can write. So, write this down.” He made the boy sit
at the table, gave him pen, ink, and paper, and dictated Perry Gwyther's address, which Samuel Brock wrote down in a most fair hand, after which the Professor instructed him to commit the address to memory until he could repeat it again and again. After it was fixed in the boy's mind, Moriarty destroyed the paper.

“You must send me details of what you have heard; send them by post to that address, and you must put a small cross in the top left-hand corner of the envelope.” He had provided paper, envelopes, and two pencils, for nobody could possibly guarantee that ink would be available. “Keep the paper and pencils well hidden, and don't give them any action or word which they might think odd and therefore suspect you. And never fear, Sam; if I want to get a message to you, I shall find a way.”