The Society of Thirteen (5 page)

Chapter 10

Sometimes Tom didn't understand Esther at all. After making so much fuss about not betraying Lord Ringmore's trust, it had been her idea to sneak inside the club, and hide inside the cabinet. It wasn't the first time she had said one thing then done the opposite, either. It just went to show that no one was completely trustworthy.

Back in Rotherhithe, the orphans discussed what they had overheard.

‘If you ask me, the whole thing is a swindle,' said Tom.

‘Who's swindling who?' asked Esther.

‘I reckon it's Lord Ringmore tricking the rest of them,' he replied. ‘You heard him. Everyone has to contribute. You watch if he don't start asking for money. He's going to use this book to get serious coin out of the others.'

‘I never heard of a Lord short of a bob or two,' said Esther, doubtfully.

‘Don't you believe it,' said Tom. ‘I'll bet half these Lords and Barons and what have you don't have no real money. They live in big houses but they can't afford the coal for the fire. Now I think on it, I didn't see no servants at his place. Maybe he ain't even a real Lord. We were saying ourselves how much easier it is to trick folk if you look like you don't need money.'

‘I wouldn't want to try and get any scheme past that Harry Clay,' said Esther. ‘Hayman didn't seem like no dummy, neither.'

‘Maybe they're in on it too. Maybe the whole thing is about getting money off the fat politician. He looks like he's got proper coinage.'

Esther laughed. ‘You've got too much imagination.'

‘You have to admit that this has everything you need for a good swindle. A fanciful story, a convincing prop  … '

‘But what if it ain't?' said Esther. ‘You heard what they said about it being impossible to destroy.'

‘We couldn't see a thing in there. It was probably a trick, with two different books.'

‘But what if the book really is magic? Imagine.'

Tom snorted. ‘The only magic I care about is the magic of money.'

The next day, when the orphans turned up on Lord Ringmore's doorstep, he handed them payment and told them that their next task was to keep watch outside Mr Symmonds' house, explaining that ‘Mr Symmonds has in his possession a book of great value to me. I want you to ensure that neither he nor it leave the house. If he does leave, one of you will follow him, the other will inform me.'

An hour later the orphans were hidden behind a bush in the communal garden at the centre of Bedford Square. It was a cold day to be standing outside and Tom was feeling restless so was pleased when Mr Symmonds' door opened and his manservant stepped out. ‘Come on, let's follow him,' urged Tom.

‘Ringmore only told us to watch Symmonds,' said Esther.

The American Indian closed the door behind him. Over his broad shoulders he wore a heavily furred animal skin to protect him from the cold. In his hand he carried a long stick, the tip of which was carved into the head of an eagle.

‘Yeah, but we don't know this fella ain't got the book,' said Tom. ‘I should follow him. I'll watch where he goes. You stay here and watch the house.'

‘All right, but don't get seen.'

Tom took after him, feeling much happier to be on the move. Kiyaya walked with huge strides, meaning Tom had to run to keep up. He kept his distance as the Indian headed towards the bustling streets of Holborn. He was easy enough to follow. If Tom did lose sight of him for a moment, he simply had to look for the trail of turning heads the enormous man left in his wake. Tom had no idea what this man's homeland was like but he reckoned it was likely to be pretty different from Holborn. Yet the Indian didn't seem at all concerned by the chaos of the city. He crossed the busy road with the confidence of a native Londoner. It was Tom who got shouted at by a hansom cab driver as he darted after him. Tom shrugged off the driver's insults and found a lamp post from which to watch as the Indian entered a butcher's shop.

‘Hello, Tom. Where's your girlfriend?'

Tom didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken. He felt a hand on his shoulder. The grip tightened and forced him to turn. Hardy stood behind him with his hands in his pockets. He wore the same grubby coat as always and kept the same company. Brewer, Worms and Stump were all former pupils of St Clement's Catholic School for Waifs and Strays. Hardy was the oldest, but it was Stump who held Tom and kept him from legging it. The gangly limbed Worms was next to him, while Brewer, the youngest of the gang, allowed Tom a brief glimpse of his blade, showing him what would happen if he tried to run off.

‘What do you want, Hardy?' said Tom. ‘I'm busy.'

‘Busy, is it? Busy doing what? Busy working my patch? Busy taking money from the people in my protection? Busy stealing from me, Tom? That kind of busy, Tom, is it?'

‘No.'

‘Busy coming up with excuses why you shouldn't pay me what you owe me?'

‘We don't owe nothing,' said Tom.

‘Everyone owes,' said Hardy. ‘And everyone pays, sooner or later. Tell me what you're doing on this fine morning if you ain't picking no pockets. You out doing a spot of shopping, are you?'

‘It ain't your business,' said Tom.

‘Anything that happens on my patch is my business and you know full well this is my patch.'

‘Me and Esther have got a job.'

‘What job?'

‘We're running errands for some gent.'

‘Which would explain this fancy clobber you're wearing. What kind of errands?'

‘What's it matter?' replied Tom.

Stump bent Tom's arm behind his back. The pain was unbearable but Tom remained silent.

‘I always liked you, Tom,' said Hardy. ‘I remember your first day. What were you? Five years old? You were crying because your auntie had left you. You told everyone that she was going to come back for you. Never did though, did she? Remember, boys?'

The others laughed cruelly.

Tom stared back angrily.

‘What you really up to, Tom?' asked Hardy.

‘This fella caught us thievin' from him,' said Tom. ‘It weren't round here. It was over Piccadilly way. But instead of shopping us he's got us delivering messages and that. It's nothing. Just a few coins is all.'

‘Sounds peculiar if you ask me. I tell you what, you give me my cut and you'll be on your way. No trouble.'

‘I told you, it wasn't on your patch.'

‘And yet here you are, on my patch now.' Hardy spoke quietly in Tom's ear. ‘You know that sooner or later you'll end up working for me, but think about it. If it's you that comes to me, rather than Esther, I'll look on you more favourably, won't I? She makes all the decisions for you. I know that. But you got a brain just the same as her. You can make your own choices.'

‘I already make my own choices.'

‘Glad to hear it. Just make sure they're the wise ones, eh?'

‘I don't take orders from you.'

‘No, that's what Esther's for.' Hardy laughed. ‘And don't go thinking you're safe in that Rotherhithe warehouse neither.'

Tom said nothing and tried to keep his expression blank.

‘Didn't think I knew that one, did you? But you got no secrets from me. Or, at least, you'd be wise not to have. Now, Stump is going to leave you with a little reminder that I'm not messing about.'

Stump yanked Tom's arm further behind his back. Tom could feel the bone creak. Much further and it would break altogether. ‘Please don't,' he begged.

‘It's too late for pleading,' said Stump.

Tom closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable snap but just as the pain reached an unbearable level, suddenly it was gone. With his arm free, Tom turned to see Kiyaya holding Stump in the air, his short legs dangling.

‘Put him down,' said Hardy, his voice bubbling with barely controlled fury.

‘What's going on?' asked Stump, unable to see who was holding him.

‘Put him down, you savage,' hissed Hardy.

Brewer began to take his knife out but Hardy stopped him with a wave of his hand. All around, people were stopping to stare at the extraordinary sight of the enormous man holding the boy in the air. Apparently not so keen on the attention, Kiyaya placed Stump back on the ground.

‘Nothing to see here,' shouted Hardy aggressively at the gawking onlookers, staring each one of them down until they walked away and went back to minding their own business. He turned to Tom. ‘Interesting company you're keeping these days, Tom,' he said, and he and his gang vanished into the crowd, leaving Tom alone with the Indian.

The huge man looked at Tom, his intense dark eyes boring into him.

‘Why d'you do that?' asked Tom.

In response, Kiyaya reached out a hand. Tom stepped back, avoiding contact. Something about Kiyaya's dark eyes filled Tom with dread. He turned and fled.

Chapter 11

London had its fair share of bedraggled birds with missing legs, tattered feathers and damaged wings, but Esther had never seen a magpie in such a state as the one which hopped across Bedford Square towards her.

‘Morning Mister Magpie,' she said. She had been taught to greet magpies like this by Sister Eucharia, a superstitious nun who had once told the class that, being the devil's bird, a magpie could receive the gift of speech by a drop of human blood on its tongue. When Mother Agnes, the prioress, got wind of this she had hauled Sister Eucharia out in front of the entire school and admonished her for teaching such irreligious nonsense, but the lesson had stuck with Esther and it came back as she watched the mangy magpie boldly hopping towards her, squawking loudly. As it got closer, Esther saw what a sorry state it was in. Its feathers were worn. It walked with a distinct limp and one of its eyes hung out of its socket.

‘Shoo,' she said, disgusted by the bird. ‘Go away.'

The magpie didn't flinch.

Esther jumped forward and clapped her hands. The magpie remained unperturbed by her efforts to frighten it. Esther had never seen a bird act in such a way. Something rubbed against her leg. She looked down and saw a black cat arching its back and pushing itself against her shin.

‘Hello there,' she said, scratching its back.

The cat kept its green eyes focused on the bird.

The magpie looked as though it would stand its ground until the cat prowled forward with a threatening, low purr. Deciding the cat meant business, the magpie spread its wings and flew to the safety of a nearby rooftop. Esther bent down to pick the cat up, but at that moment Tom returned and his arrival startled the cat and sent it running into the undergrowth.

‘Where's the Indian?' she asked.

‘There.' Tom pointed to where Kiyaya was coming around the corner.

‘What happened?' asked Esther. ‘How did you get ahead of him?'

‘Just did,' mumbled Tom. ‘He went to the butcher's, is all.'

Esther had known Tom since the age of five. They had grown up together. She knew when he was hiding something. ‘He saw you, didn't he?'

‘Not a chance. It was just dull is all. This whole business is dull if you ask me. The sooner we get back to what we do best, the better.'

Esther knew he wasn't telling her everything but she also knew that there was no point pushing him.

By five o'clock, it was dark except for the yellow light spilling down from the streetlamps, but even in the gloom there was no question as to the identity of Mr Symmonds' visitor. His face may have been hidden beneath his top hat but Lord Ringmore was identifiable by his purposeful stride and by the tap-tap-tapping of his walking stick along the pavement. Before knocking on the door he turned to peer into the darkness in search of Tom and Esther. When the door opened he went inside, re-emerging half an hour later and immediately crossing the road towards the orphans. In his hand he held the book. The number thirteen was visible on the cover.

‘Got your book back then,' said Tom.

Lord Ringmore tucked it out of sight. ‘Yes. Now I have another task for you,' he said plainly.

The orphans stepped out from behind the bush.

‘We haven't been paid for this one,' said Tom.

Lord Ringmore reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins but held them out of reach. ‘The day is not yet done,' he said. ‘First you are to gather the other three and tell them to meet at nine o'clock at the same place as last night.'

‘Nine o'clock this evening?' said Esther. ‘There's no time to reach them all before then.'

‘There is if we split up,' said Tom.

‘Split up?' said Esther, surprised to hear Tom making useful suggestions when he didn't even want to do the job.

‘Yeah, you could tell Clay and Sir Tyrrell, while I go to Soho and tell Hayman,' he said.

‘I do not care how you achieve it, but you won't get paid until this task is completed,' replied Lord Ringmore. ‘As before, ensure that you speak directly to each individual. Involve no one else. No servants, no housekeepers, no butlers.'

‘You don't trust servants, do you?' asked Tom. ‘I mean, I noticed you ain't got none yourself.'

‘I would sooner employ thieves and pickpockets than the serving classes. At least they are more honest about their occupations,' said Lord Ringmore.

‘That why you got us working for you?' asked Tom.

‘I suggest you do not give me reason to change my mind about that,' said Lord Ringmore, raising his stick threateningly.

‘There's no need for that,' said Tom.

‘We'd better get moving if we're to reach everyone in time,' said Esther, tugging Tom's sleeve.

‘I would spend more time listening to the girl if I were you,' said Lord Ringmore. ‘I have not employed you to answer me back. If you are to continue earning, it would do you good to remember that.'