The Fight for Lizzie Flowers (38 page)

‘Don’t you ever stop moaning?’

‘Not when I’ve something to moan about.’

‘Have you got the gun?’ Bert asked hopefully, thinking perhaps he could reach Frank’s pocket.

‘What do you think?’ Frank huffed. ‘They found it and laughed at it. Said it was a kid’s toy.’

Bert suddenly sat up. ‘What’s that?’

‘What?’

‘That breathing sound.’

‘It’s probably a horse.’

Bert squinted, listening. ‘There’s someone in here with us.’

‘Wh-who?’ stammered Frank.

Bert strained his chin forward. ‘Danny, Cal, are you there?’ He cricked his neck upwards to a shaft of light in the roof. Now his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he could see
the twinkle of stars. As he looked down he could make out a shape, a motionless shape. It didn’t look like a horse. ‘Danny? Is that you?’ he called, his heart thrusting hopefully
against his ribs.

‘Bert?’ said a voice. It was Danny’s.

‘Blimey, Danny are you—’

‘Someone’s coming,’ Frank interrupted.

Bert lay still. He listened to the march of boots across a yard. He heard voices and then a rattle and a clink. Suddenly the stable door swung open, shedding a gloomy light onto two figures. One
of them was holding an oil lamp, the other a shotgun. Bert swallowed hard, feeling the prickle of fear on his neck. The lamp swung and the man with the gun stepped forward.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Frank shrieked. ‘We ain’t done nothing!’

The men looked at one another, smiling, enjoying their captives’ terror. Bert licked the sour taste from his lips. Shot on his back, like a defenceless animal, wasn’t the way he
planned to go. His mind flashed to the night he and Danny ditched Albert in the Thames. The poor sod hadn’t thought that he’d meet his end that way either. No doubt about it, life was a
bugger.

‘But why us, why me and Danny? I’m just a small trader and Danny’s land can’t be worth that much, can it?’ Lizzie demanded as she stood in front
of Savage. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but she’d be damned if she let her fear show.

Savage continued to look at her in amusement. ‘Wrong on both counts, my dear,’ he said slowly, enjoying the surprise on her face. ‘You are the only woman in the East End who
has survived a bombing and brought her business back from the dead. An example to us all, of course, and someone I want working for me, rather than against me.’

Lizzie suddenly began to understand this man’s mind and the strategy he had planned to pursue his racketeering. Once she and those like her who flatly refused his demands had fallen, he
would have no argument with others, like the stallholders who had resisted in the past and failed.

‘As for your friend, Flowers,’ Savage continued as he casually blew smoke into the air, ‘he’s just not willing to see sense, is he? I was prepared to give him a generous
price for his land, a sum many men would have grabbed with both hands.’

‘But why do you want Morley’s Wharf so much?’ Lizzie said in confusion. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Oh, wrong again, Mrs Flowers. For I have it on good authority from friends in high places that some of London’s wharfs are to be expanded and developed. A very rich and lucrative
transaction for godforsaken pieces of marshland, like Morley’s Wharf.’ He paused, tilted his head to one side and murmured, ‘But perhaps a vision too far for your eyes, my
dear?’

‘You’ll never get away with it,’ Lizzie breathed on a choked whisper. ‘The law won’t let you. You can’t force a person to sell their property.’

At this, Savage’s mouth fell open and with a sickening belly laugh he clapped his hand on his chest. ‘Oh, from the mouths of babes!’ he derided, laughing until the tears
glistened in his eyes and he swept them away with a fat finger.

Lizzie stood there feeling humiliated as he slowly recovered, his smile turning to a frightening grimace.

‘The first rule of good business,’ he told her in a menacing voice, ‘is planning. To plan well, you must know everything. How many times have I told you this?’ He
stopped, staring into her gaze as if he despaired of her. ‘The law – you say – won’t let me do as I wish? My dear Mrs Flowers, the law has
helped
me. A bent copper
of some influence on the payroll together with his minions allows me to work in complete freedom. And Charlie Bray met the criteria.’

‘Bray?’ Lizzie repeated. ‘He works for you?’

‘Of course.’

‘So it was you who had Danny pulled in for the Limehouse corpse?’

‘Indeed.’ Savage moved closer. ‘As was Duncan King.’

‘But – Duncan King was a—’

‘A low-life and expendable,’ Savage completed for her. ‘He was also the same build and same hair colour as your husband. With a little imaginative clothing, King finally served
a purpose.’

‘You killed him?’ Lizzie gasped.

‘Not personally, but yes, he met with an accident and ended up as we all know at the bottom of the river.’

‘So you meant Danny to misidentify him?’

‘Of course. Your husband had disappeared, and I have to admit that I didn’t know or care where he was at the time. I suspected my predecessor, Ferreter, had got rid of him and it was
the perfect opportunity to pull in his brother who had the motive for murder.’ Savage pointed his cigar in her face. ‘You, my dear. He intended to have you, come what may. And put an
end to his own brother to achieve it.’

‘Danny would never have done such a thing,’ Lizzie burst out. ‘No one who knew Danny would believe it—’

‘The law would,’ Savage broke in calmly. ‘And all would have gone according to plan if that fool Bray had managed to make the charge stick. God knows why he didn’t. But
it’s a mistake that I shan’t forget in a great hurry.’ He sighed, walking away from her, only to turn suddenly, his expression bland. ‘Now all your questions are
answered—’

‘And Richard Ryde?’ Lizzie interrupted, feeling sick at the thought of what Savage was capable of. ‘Did you mean to kill him?’

‘That little hiccup was unfortunate.’

‘How can you be so heartless?’ Lizzie said, appalled. ‘Richard was a young man in his prime, with a family to support, and now Ethel is a widow!’

Savage stared at her contemptuously. ‘I’m sure her recovery will be swift. I’m acquainted with Mrs Ryde’s little intrigue of the heart, confirming my opinion yet again
that human nature is both devious and fickle.’

Lizzie was speechless. He knew about Cal and Ethel! He knew about everything, just as he had said he did. They had all been dancing to his tune, ever since Duncan King’s body had been
found.

‘You can’t kill us all,’ Lizzie croaked. ‘Not even you could get away with that.’

‘You would be very surprised at what I can do,’ he snarled, walking slowly towards her. ‘First, I want the deeds to the land on Morley’s Wharf and a contract of sale
signed and sealed. And on that, your futures depend.’

Lizzie lifted her chin. ‘Danny will never sell.’

‘In that case, you will persuade him for me.’ He reached out and lifted the hair from her shoulders, putting his face close to hers. ‘
Think
about what you love most in
life, and imagine it being taken away. So that you will never see it – or hold it – again, and then you’ll know exactly what you are capable of.’

Lizzie closed her eyes. Tears pushed themselves from under her lids. She knew he was talking about Polly.

‘Please no!’ Frank screamed again, wriggling back against Bert, groaning and yelping.

‘You stinking bastards,’ Bert cursed, looking into their faces. ‘Murderers, the lot of you.’

The click of metal on metal gave Bert his reply. He waited for the bullet to reach him, plunge into his brain or his heart, rip at the delicate organs that had served him so well in his short
lifespan. He wondered if the pain would be unbearable, his body racked by the spasms of death. And not a flicker of compassion in their killers’ eyes, but perhaps another shot to confirm the
kill. His only hope was that someone would find their bodies. That justice would be done in some shape or form.

But neither the pain nor the blackness arrived. Instead the lantern swung violently and in its precarious light he saw another figure. The glint of a blade slipped silently across the night and
two bodies sank slowly to the ground. Bert stared at the heap. The gun that had been pointed towards him lay on the ground.

‘What’s happening? Who are you?’ Bert strained his eyes to see. He tensed, ready for a delayed shot, something he had failed to identify.

The figure came closer. Bert saw the brief flash of white teeth in the lamplight. Features lean as a whippet’s, dark eyes shrewd and keen.

‘Who are you?’ Bert repeated as the ropes at his hands and feet were loosened.

‘I’m the answer to your prayer, Mr Allen,’ said the man in a rich, throaty accent.

‘How do you know my name?’ Bert asked, his eyes fixed on the quick-moving stranger.

‘I’m a friend of your brother’s.’

In the light of the lamp, Danny took the hip flask from the man he recognized as Murphy.

‘Drink up, my friend,’ Murphy told him as he held the lamp aloft. ‘I think you’re in need of sustenance.’

Danny gulped hard and the pain at his ribs soon eased. Savage had never intended to bargain. He’d hardly stepped inside the hostelry before he was downed, bound hand and foot and given a
solid booting. But as he eased himself into an upright position, Danny smiled. ‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully and he spat the blood from his mouth.

‘Would you look at that now,’ Murphy said with a wry smile. ‘Didn’t I warn you that you might be out of your depth?’

Danny spat again, glancing up at the Irishman. ‘You were right, Murphy. I’ll give you that. Now get me up.’

It was Bert who took his arm. ‘You all right, Danny?’

‘I’ll do. Are you?’

‘A moment later and we’d have been dead ducks.’ Frank brushed the straw from his clothes. ‘But this geezer—’

‘His name is Murphy,’ Danny said, staring the Irishman in the eye. ‘And I owe him a favour.’

‘I’ll call it in one day,’ Murphy acknowledged.

Danny frowned, staring curiously at the man who had just freed them. ‘How did you know we were here in Aldgate tonight?’

Murphy shrugged easily. ‘My soldiers never leave me, Danny boy. Not even for a woman.’

Danny suddenly understood. ‘Fowler? He’s still your man?’

‘Indeed.’

‘
Our
Fowler – he’s one of
your
men?’ Bert said in alarm.

‘Sure, you can’t trust a soul these days, can you?’ Murphy laughed, his eyes dancing in the glow of the light.

‘And Lizzie?’ Danny said anxiously, his heart racing at the thought of what might be happening to her.

‘She’s inside the hostel, my friend, safe enough for the moment,’ Murphy replied calmly. ‘And the Australian—’

‘Cal?’ Danny feared the worst. ‘Is he alive?’

To his relief, Murphy nodded. ‘But he’s in no shape to join us. I’ve had my men take him across the road to my people where he’ll be cared for.’

‘Your people?’ Bert repeated. ‘But there’s only a brothel.’

‘That’s right,’ Murphy agreed. ‘And a fine one it is too.’

‘But me and Lizzie thought—’

‘That the two in the street were conducting business?’ Murphy twisted his lips in a mirthless smile. ‘They were in a sense, my friend. My business, lookouts posted to watch the
scum who stole this inn from me.’

‘This was yours?’ Danny said in startled surprise.

‘It was,’ Murphy replied, drawing in a slow breath. ‘I’d not a penny in my pocket when I left Ireland, but I shed honest sweat to make this a fine and upstanding
business. Then one day, Savage paid me a visit, as he did to you. Of course I refused him – as you did.’

‘What happened?’ Frank said in a whisper.

‘He did with me as he did to your friend. And to others, I suspect, who opposed him. I was thrown into the well.’

‘Christ,’ said Bert, taking a sharp breath. ‘He tried to drown you.’

Murphy nodded. ‘But I paddled on the surface, like a drowning dog. I went under several times, but his face appeared to me. The thought of revenge kept me alive. My lungs were bursting, my
knuckles bruised and bloody from clinging to the sides. Nothing has ever felt so good as the touch of the bucket to my fingers. I clung to it and the rope that was my lifeline. By morning I was
near my last breath. But I saw daylight again and survived.’ Murphy heaved in a sigh and glanced at Danny. ‘Since then, I’ve learned patience and how to keep what is mine, by the
strength of my wit and good and true soldiers about me.’

Frank leaned into the light and broke the silence. ‘So you must know a way we can get out of here?’

For a moment Murphy was silent, then threw back his head and laughed. ‘And here’s me thinking you’d want to save your lady first!’

Frank looked embarrassed. ‘I only meant—’

‘Ah, sure, I know what you meant.’ Murphy turned to Danny. ‘How many did you count when they took you?’

‘Two handfuls of men, maybe more.’ Danny paused. ‘How many do you have?’

‘Enough,’ was all Murphy answered.

‘He has Lizzie, remember. There can’t be any shooting—’ Danny began but Murphy was already shaking his head.

‘We’ve other ways, quieter ways,’ he said softly, his hand slipping to the knife in his belt. ‘There will be no shooting match, no chance of her being harmed.’

‘You could be outnumbered,’ Danny warned, thinking but not saying that knives were no match for guns.

‘I’ve people I can trust,’ Murphy assured him. ‘Strong men, as you yourself know.’

‘But they’ll see us coming,’ said Frank apprehensively. ‘They’ve guards at the back and front.’

A hush filled the stable. Murphy passed the lamp to Danny. ‘Hold this, my friend, while I show you.’ Murphy found a spade and began to clear the straw. He scooped away the fetid
earth and paused. It was then Danny saw the boards beneath.

A trapdoor.

‘Bring the Daimler round,’ Savage told one of his men. ‘Mrs Flowers and I are leaving.’

‘Where are we going?’ Lizzie tried to pull away but he held her fast.

‘Somewhere a little more comfortable. Time to get to know one another.’