Dodger (46 page)

‘We are discussing the illegitimate child of George Shatillion and Lady Evershed, Dawkins,' sighed Pin as though I was a child at a big table what needed adult talk explained to him. ‘A love child that your Mr Fagin was paid to hide from Lord Evershed in fear that the truth would make His Lordship even more murderous.' Pin turned back to Evershed and apologised for the interruption.

‘You think Ruby is George Shatillion's daughter?' I asked in bewilderment. ‘Because she ain't.' Evershed seemed as unsure of this claim as I was and turned to me for the first time since I had entered the room.

‘Why can't she be?' he asked.

‘Because she had her own family,' I told him. ‘A mother and an uncle.'

‘Last night Mr Dawkins told me about the girl's uncle,' Pin said to Evershed as if he was the prosecution and I was the defence. ‘His name was Uncle Ikey.'

Evershed kept his eyes on me and asked if this was true. I said nothing and tried to work out the importance of it.

‘Just as Shatillion mentioned in his autobiographical fragment, Your Lordship,' Pin went on. ‘Recall that he wrote that although he wanted the world to think that he had been living as a recluse in his latter years he had in fact been visiting the child under a
series of aliases. One such alias was a character modelled on Ikey Slizzard, his character from
Thimble and Pea
.'

Evershed nodded slow and tapped the walnut desk with his fingers in a slow thoughtful way.

‘Ikey Slizzard?' I gave a small laugh at the mention of this villain from Shatillion's first book. ‘That ain't even a real person!'

Pin turned and explained things with relish. He was talking to me but I felt that his words was more for his master's ears. It sounded like he wanted to remind him of how clever he had been in uncovering all this.

‘In his fragment George Shatillion wrote of a child he sired with Louisa Evershed. Until then nobody had even known of this child's existence as Louisa had given birth to it during the period after she had run away from her husband. Shatillion had abandoned her at this point but it seems that he feared Lord Evershed's sworn vengeance. He had heard of His Lordship's temper and guessed that an attempt would be made on Louisa's life. So he took the child away and hid it.'

‘Didn't save her,' sniffed Evershed, who was now sat behind the desk and playing with a piece of jewellery. It was, I noticed, the same gold locket what he had shown me that day in Australia as we walked together along the River Hawkesbury. The one what contained the picture of his murdered wife. ‘And it didn't save him either,' he said, and snapped it shut.

‘Indeed it did not,' Pin went on. ‘And although Shatillion had been successful in shielding his offspring from our view, he evidently believed that there would come a time when her identity could safely be made known. To this end he detailed the whole saga in a document which he at some point planned to send to his trusted friend and biographer, Hartley Mellish. Mr Mellish received this document after Shatillion had unexpectedly fallen to
his death and contacted me about what he had read there. It was not a cheap bit of business buying it off him, I can tell you.'

Pin seemed disappointed in Shatillion's old friend, as though this mercenary behaviour was somehow worse than his murder. He seemed to be enjoying the sound of his own voice though and, as he stood there showing off, I found myself wanting to punch him in the gob.

‘The document explained how he had taken his baby from Louisa quite against her wishes as well as the jewel which was hidden inside that doll.' Pin indicated the top half of Ruby's gift what poked out of my pocket still. ‘Shatillion then handed the child over to a man who kept so many orphans that one more would never be noticed. He had met your Mr Fagin many years before and knew that the old villain had one redeeming virtue. He knew how to look after children.

‘Shatillion continued to pay Fagin with many jewels and trinkets throughout the child's life as long as the Jew kept watch over his charge and ensured that the doll remained with the child. It was to act as a signifier, he explained, to prove who the child was should the day ever come when he would want to.'

Pin then turned his attention to Evershed, who just stared at the shut locket not appearing to even listen.

‘When Dawkins told me she had an Uncle Ikey then I knew it must be her, Your Lordship, and that the uncle was in fact her father, George Shatillion. From this and her face I knew she was the girl even before the jewel was revealed.'

‘Bravo, sir,' said Evershed in a voice without joy. ‘You have me convinced. It's a girl then.' He put the locket away in the top drawer and stood up. ‘A pity. It'll be harder with a girl.'

‘What will?' I asked, stepping backwards. But I was already feeling sick with the realisation. Evershed never wanted me to
deliver a jewel. He wanted me to deliver a name. And I had done it.

Evershed crossed over to a hatstand and removed his greatcoat what hung there. ‘You have her address, Timothy?' he said as he began to put it on, cloaking his uniform. ‘I want to attend to this at once.'

‘Oh yes,' replied his servant. ‘But she won't be there now.'

Perhaps they wanted to see her for harmless reasons, I considered. So that they could tell her whose daughter she was and make amends for the slaying of her true parents. But I very much doubted this.

‘She works at Smithfield Market,' Pin continued talking to Evershed. ‘We have Mr Dawkins to thanks for that information too.' He turned to me and smiled.

‘You're going to kill her?' I cried in disbelief. ‘That's where you want to go now?'

‘Where better?' he replied as he looked over to the door where Warrigal was standing. ‘It's crowded, lots of noisy, screaming animals and there's blood everywhere already. Such markets are a gift for the professional assassin.'

‘But why?' I shouted at them. ‘What's she ever done to hurt you?'

Evershed had his coat on now but it was still unbuttoned and the tail was hanging over the mighty sword he carried on his hip. His old face dropped with shame.

‘She has done nothing to harm me, Mr Dawkins. Nothing at all. But she is the product of a union that cut me more deeply than any battle wound. Shatillion thought he could hide her from me and in doing so he would win. He left her on Earth as mockery of me.' His expression hardened then and he began to button his coat. ‘But I am the Empire. And the Empire will not be mocked.'

‘You're a mad old bastard!' I pointed at him. ‘A lunatic what wants locking away. You ain't nothing else!'

‘I never expected you to understand, Mr Dawkins,' he sighed, ‘which is why neither of you were ever told my real motives. I felt the lost-jewel story would make more sense to rougher souls.'

I turned to the man by the door. ‘You didn't know either, Warrigal?' I asked him. ‘We can't let them do this – it's murder. You've met Ruby, you stayed in her home! She was kind to you and helped to nurse you back to health when you was ill. We can't let them kill her.' Warrigal said nothing. He just stood in front of that door and in his hands was that long shining blade that he had carried at the bottom of our trunk.

‘Don't let him out of this room, Bungurra,' Pin ordered him. ‘Kill him if he tries to get past you.'

I spun back to where he and Evershed stood and warned them not do this. ‘I won't let you kill her. It's wrong.'

‘Weak,' Evershed scoffed and turned to Pin. ‘Finish this, Timothy.'

Timothy Pin put his hand into his left-side coat pocket. ‘His Lordship and I thank you for your services, Mr Dawkins,' he smirked. ‘But you are now relieved of your duties.'

Then his smile vanished.

His hand came out of his left pocket and went into his right. Then he opened his coat to see if what he was looking for was in there. But he no longer had it. It had not been in his possession since he had shared a ride with me in that small cab.

‘Did your mother never teach you, Timothy,' I said as I pulled that small pistol of his out of my own pocket and pointed it at his bald head, ‘not to sit so close to a pickpocket?'

Both of them was most alarmed at this reversal of fortune and Pin cried out in fright.

‘You bloody fool, Timothy,' Evershed cursed. ‘You damned amateur.'

‘I'm sorry, sir, I didn't feel it.' Pin looked most astonished. ‘How did you do that, Dawkins?' How was it possible?'

‘Well, they didn't call me Artful for nothing,' I replied, and pointed the gun from him to Evershed. His weapon, the larger flintlock, was on still on the desk and I could shoot him easy before he reached it. ‘Warrigal,' I called over. ‘Open that door and step away from it, there's a good boy –' I kept my eyes fixed on Evershed so there was no doubt who was taking the shot – ‘or the Empire falls.'

Evershed stared back at me bull-like. ‘You haven't the stomach for the kill,' he challenged. ‘You're not a soldier, just a thief. Put down the weapon. You look ridiculous with it.'

Warrigal had not moved but I sidestepped towards the other gun so no one could fire it after me. ‘I'm leaving here now,' I said to them all. ‘Try and stop me, and it's curtains for the man with the money.'

Evershed snorted. ‘We'll see about that, shall we?'

And then he swung back his coat, grabbed the handle of the sword and charged.

I had not expected this and, as he came at me roaring, I stepped away and fired the pistol. But Evershed was right – I was unused to firearms and my aim was unreliable. The ball shot from the barrel of the tiny gun and struck him in the shoulder. It was a small wound and he had no doubt suffered worse in battle. But it was enough to send him staggering backwards and crashing to the floor as Timothy Pin seized the moment to tackle me. He came at me but I swung the butt of the pistol into his head. He cried out in pain but still shoved me over to the fireplace and tried to restrain me.

‘Bungurra!' he yelled. ‘Help me, God damn you.'

I shoved Pin back and then punched him with as much force as I could muster, straight in the side of his face. He fell back and I turned to Warrigal to see if he was next. Evershed was clutching his shoulder and crawling towards his pistol shouting, ‘Kill the boy!' but Warrigal hesitated at his post with that knife.

I did not wait to find out what Warrigal would do. I turned to the open window, the only other exit, ran towards it, jumped on the desk in between and launched myself out. We was two floors up but I cleared the few riverboats moored below and fell down with terrific splash straight into the drink. The sensation was like death.

The Thames, I discovered at that moment, is London's greatest monster. The freezing, rushing, pulling shock of it overcame every other concern as I sank like a stone into its powerful filth. My whole body rebelled against the thick water and I kicked and thrashed my way back up to the surface in desperation, fighting against the strong currents what was wanting to pull me deep. At last I swam to the top and took a great gulp of air as I tried to find my bearings. The Dancing Mutineer had somehow moved to the right but I looked up to the window I had jumped from and saw the bald head of Timothy Pin staring out from it. I could not hear well, on account of my ears being full of river water, but I did make out the sound of Evershed barking orders. A shot rang out and as some water splashed next to me I saw that Pin had the black gun in his hand. It would be some moments before he could reload the shot and I did not waste time.

There was some old wooden dinghies tied up along the side of the bank further downstream and I began thrashing towards them to help me stay afloat. Once I reached these I dragged myself along until I came to some small stone steps what led to an old shipyard
where I pulled myself up and out of the disgusting river. I was gasping heavy as I climbed the steps but there was no time to linger and I took off my coat what was now made cumbersome with river water and threw it back in the Thames. Then I climbed over the fence and into the shipyard and ran through, with water dripping from me, in sheer terror for my life.

The place was deserted save for a number of derelict workmen and ageing sea dogs loitering about and I knew I could not rely on these sorts to come to my aid. I ran between two half-built hulls, keeping my head down as I did this so as not to be seen by any onlookers what might point pursuers in my direction. I jumped over coils of rope and loose timber and made for the yard gate what led out into the road but it was shut. But as I approached it began to open and someone entered the yard. I hurled myself down behind an upturned boat as Warrigal, knife in hand, came looking for me.

I crawled on all fours to the stern of the boat and peered around it to see if he had spotted me but he had headed in a different direction and was walking past a tall tower of scrapped vessels what he seemed to think I was hiding behind. The only way out of this yard was through the gate he had entered through but he would see me if I made a dash for it and could cut me down with ease. So I decided that a game of hide and seek was the better plan and crawled backwards, away from the boat, and looked for a place to conceal myself. It occurred to me that I could crawl under one of the many upturned boats and hide within, but this would be placing myself at a disadvantage should he find me. I was still dripping water and it was a matter of time before Warrigal, an expert tracker, would see these drips and close in. I would have to fight him before long and I searched around for a weapon. There was a small hut near the corner of the yard, at the very
opposite end to where Warrigal was searching for me, and I ducked down and made towards it. The wooden door was falling off its hinges and inside was all these oars and sculls stood up, just waiting to be used in my defence. I was quick to choose which was the best suited to my purpose; it was short and thick and good for swinging, and I dashed around to behind a large locked shed where the metal items was kept. There I hid and clutched the oar and waited for his approach. A swift surprise attack was the only way I was going to best a man with a knife.