The Potato Factory (12 page)
Read The Potato Factory Online
Authors: Bryce Courtenay
As a boy Marley had been intelligent and naturally cunning and would have made a good leader if he had not always been a loner. Though it was this very characteristic which meant he could be trusted not to open his gob or boast of his conquests to the other street urchins. With money in his purse for frequent visits to a chop house, the pocket-sized lad had grown quickly and was soon too big to be a snakesman. Ikey had trained him as a pickpocket but he never amounted to greatness for he refused to work in a team. He'd grown into a villain, dangerous if crossed, but known to work only for himself and only for gold. In the terms of the times and the kind with whom Ikey naturally mixed, Bob Marley was reliable as a new-minted sovereign. Ikey stepped deeper into the alley where the noise of the wind was less intense.
'I 'ave information important to ya, Ikey, most important, most important indeed! Yes! If I say so meself, information o' the kind a person doesn't come upon every day.' Marley paused and then added in an ominous voice, 'Thank Gawd!'
Ikey removed his hands from the pockets of his great coat and slipped off the filthy fur-lined glove of his right hand, then he re-entered the coat through an entirely different part of its anatomy and opened his dumby secretly. He allowed his fingers to slip through the coins in the leather purse until he sensed the warmer touch of a gold sovereign, whereupon his nimble fingers worked until they touched six sovereigns which he carefully pushed to one corner of the purse, then he took three. These he produced held between thumb and forefinger as though they were a single coin conjured from the air. He had already gauged the worth of Marley's information, which he'd set in his mind at six gold sovereigns. He knew from the tone of his informer's voice that the information was kosher. He'd think less of Marley if he didn't manage to extract another three sovereigns from him for its deliverance. He held the three gold coins out to the man in front of him.
'Three sov? Three bleedin' sov!' Marley removed the scarf that covered all but his eyes, looked at Ikey in disgust and then spat onto the snow at his feet. 'This ain't no bleedin' social call!'
But Ikey held the gold sovereigns in front of Marley until his fingers began to tingle with the cold and finally Marley, shrugging his shoulders, removed the woollen mitten from one hand and took them without a word, testing their weight in the palm of his hand before biting each in turn with a gold eye tooth. He grunted and placed them into his vest-pocket. Though he'd hoped for more, he'd been standing around in the bitter night for more than an hour, and he needed a large steak with relish and a pint of hot gin or he was sure he would perish from the cold.
'You've been shopped!' Marley said finally.
'Who done it?' Ikey asked.
'It come up from Rosemary Lane. No names. Just a good friend what's got an ear connected.'
'When?' Ikey asked.
'Termorra, early mornin', sparrow fart!' Marley paused, then added, 'After all the toffs 'ave scarpered from yer 'ouse of ill repute!'
'This mornin'! Oh Jesus! Oh me Gawd! Oh shit! This mornin'? This very mornin'?'
Bob Marley nodded and dug into the interior of his coat to produce a gold hunter at the end of a brass chain. Clicking it open, he examined its face.
'I'd say 'bout three 'ours, tosh!' He closed the lid of the watch with a flick of his thumb. 'Reckon they gotcha this time, me lovely!'
'Where?' Ikey asked tremulously. It was an important question, for if it was the house he and his wife Hannah shared he would be less concerned. The house in White-chapel had been raided several times, but the trapdoor under Hannah's bed, which led to a large false ceiling in which his stolen property was stored, was so cunningly contrived as to be invisible to the naked eye. But the house at the end of the alley in which he stood was less well accommodated to the concealment of stolen goods. A raid on Mary's bawdy house, even if he could clear it of contraband in time, which hardly seemed possible, would be a disaster. Its basement contained the heavy mechanicals of the printing press which had been brought in, one piece at a time, over several months, to make up a press of a very peculiar kind, and such as would be of great interest to the law if examined with the printing of banknotes in mind. There could be no thought of its removal, which would take several days.
Bob Marley's hand went out and he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. Ikey returned to the interior of the great coat and produced another gold sovereign. Marley pocketed it and simply jerked his thumb down towards the interior of Bell Alley. 'Right 'ere, me lovely.'
It was not possible for Ikey's sallow skin to grow more pale. ' 'Ere? Oh me Gawd! Not 'ere, not tomorrow!' He looked up at Marley in despair. 'Who? Who will it be?' Ikey produced a gold coin without Marley encouraging him.
Bob Marley took it with a grin. He'd hoped for five sov and he'd got it. He was not to know that Ikey had reserved another but, given the nature of the news, would have paid five times as much for his information.
'Is it a question of
feeing
the officers, my dear?' Ikey's lips trembled as he asked. ' 'Ave they sent you? Is that why you've come? Do we 'ave any time? No, o' course not, no time, no time whatsoever and at all!'
Bob Marley shook his head slowly and replaced the woollen mitten, rubbing his hands together to restore the circulation in his recently exposed limb.
'No set up, Ikey. City!'
'City!' Ikey howled. 'Oh Gawd, oh mercy, oh no!'
' 'Fraid so, me lovely, it's them machines you got in the basement what's got you in this awful predictament!'
Ikey drew back alarmed. 'What's you know about that then?'
Marley chuckled. 'It's me business to know fings, ain't it? Just like I knows it's City what's comin' after yer!'
The single word 'City' had struck mortal terror into Ikey's heart. 'City' was simply another word for the Bank of England. For the private police force they ran who were said to be as remorseless as a pack of bloodhounds when they set upon a case.
Ikey's worst nightmare was taking place. He had been tempted into dealing with queer screens, the making of forged Bank of England notes, knowing it to be the most dangerous criminal vocation of them all. It was also as good a business as a villain could think about, providing you had the capital and the skill to set it up and the courage and wit not to be caught.
Forged English notes were laundered in Europe, mostly in Russia, Poland and Bohemia, where frequent enough commercial travel took place from England through the Hanseatic Ports. These countries, unlike France, Holland, Austria and Italy, were not sufficiently traversed for the smaller banks to be totally familiar with the larger denominations of English notes, so that a good forgery would more easily deceive their bank officials.
Ikey was making an enormous profit all round, paying for the European remodelling work on stolen jewellery with forged long-tails, this being a splendid way to launder the counterfeit English banknotes. It was also why he allowed Mary to chastise him for being cheated in his overseas transactions. Ikey was cleaning up at both ends.
Forgery was nevertheless an exceedingly dangerous endeavour. Ikey knew that no feeing or bribing of a Bank of England officer was possible and that once on his tail, the City police would not give up until they had him safely in the dock at the Old Bailey or, better still, posted for a hanging and locked in a condemned man's cell at Newgate.
Ikey had broken the first rule of a good fence, this being that a criminal endeavour in which bribery is not possible is the most dangerous of all possible pursuits and not, under any circumstances, to be undertaken. Ikey was not given to self-recrimination but now he castigated himself for the fool he had been. There were fine pickings elsewhere and he was already a rich man. Forgery carried the death penalty and no crime under English law was considered more heinous, for it attacked the very basis of property, the oak heart of the English upper classes.
Ikey mumbled his thanks to Bob Marley, who had started to move away.
'It's nuffink, me pleasure,' Marley called back laughing. 'I'll visit you in Newgate, me lovely, bring ya summink tasty, wotcha say then, jellied eels?'
' 'Ave you told Mistress Mary?' Ikey shouted at the retreating Marley.
'Nah!' His dark shape disappeared into Winfield Street.
Ikey waited a few moments before he too traced his steps out of the alley back into the gusting snow storm. In less than fifteen minutes he'd arrived at the netherken where his boys slept. Here he found two likely lads and sent them to Covent Garden to borrow a coster's cart narrow enough to move down the alley. Ikey arranged to meet the two boys at the Bell Alley brothel half an hour hence.
It was fortunate that it was Christmas and much of the goods, usually kept in the attic above the brothel, had been 'doctored'. That is, the monogram and other forms of identification removed and the goods sent back into the marketplace or to the continent, this time of the year being most expedient for the disposal of expensive merchandise. If Ikey could get the two lads back in time and the load of contraband away, at the very least, they would not be able to charge him for receiving.
Ikey was a deeply frightened man as he turned his key in the lock of the rear door of the Bell Alley premises and slipped quietly into the scullery. The house was still. The last customers had long since been sent home by carriage, and the girls put to bed with a hot brandy toddy into which Mary always mixed a sleeping draught.
He decided not to tell Mary of the events to occur but simply to say that he was unwell with a stomach ache and wished to take her ledger home with him so that he might go over it later. This had occurred once or twice before and she would not be overly suspicious at such a request. He would explain the removal of the stolen goods from the attic as goods sold in a bumper Christmas season.
However luck was on Ikey's side in the event that he discovered Mary asleep in her chair as he crept silently into her parlour. She was still seated in an over-stuffed chair wrapped about in a comforter with her chin resting on her chest. On the small table beside her was her ledger and to the side of it stood two pewter tankards and an open bottle of good claret wine. Ikey moved to the wall and turned the gaslight lower, then quietly lifted the ledger and one of the tankards together with its doily from the table and stuffed them into a pocket in his great coat.
Ikey worked quickly, using a bull's eye lamp he'd trimmed in the scullery, to move the stolen goods from the attic down to the small back room leading into the alley. He left a large square parcel carefully wrapped in oilcloth until last. Ikey was forced to rest several times as he struggled with it down to the scullery and, despite the cold, he was perspiring profusely by the time he heard the low pre-arranged whistle of one of the lads. The cart, the noise of its wheels padded by the six inch fall of snow, had arrived silently at the rear of the house. The two boys stood rubbing their hands and blowing into their mittens as Ikey opened the scullery door.
With the help of the boys the goods were quickly loaded, placing the square oilcloth parcel into the cart last before covering the whole load with a blood-stained canvas, the cart having been obtained from a mutton butcher at the Garden. Ikey gave each lad a shilling, with the promise of another to come, and asked them to await him at the Pig 'n Spit.
Ikey then let himself into the basement quarters down a short flight of stairs and through a door within the house to which only he had a key. Upon entering he became aware of a deep and resonant snoring coming from behind a curtained partition at the far end of the large room which his partner kept as his own quarters. He had no need to concern himself with careful movement since Van Esselyn, the deaf and dumb master forger, would not awaken unless shaken.
Ikey knew the room off by heart, having often enough visited it before dawn. The remainder of the room contained the engraver's bench with etching tools, a large lock-up cupboard for storing the special paper and precious inks procured from a source in Birmingham, a general work bench, hand press, guillotine, and finally the splendid Austrian-manufactured printing press.
Ikey quickly crossed over to the beautiful press and, kneeling beside it, he pushed down hard on what appeared to be a knot-hole in the floorboard. The board immediately snapped open an inch. Ikey repeated this with similar knot-holes in adjacent and parallel boards until the ends of four short boards stood raised an inch above those surrounding them. Ikey then removed the loose nails and lifted the boards to reveal a steel safe set into the floor, its door facing uppermost.
Ikey quickly worked the combination and removed five copper plates etched with the markings of Bank of England notes of various denominations. The etching for the Bank of England five pound note he immediately placed back in the safe. Then he removed all the counterfeit notes from the safe, save for a small bundle of five pound notes. He locked the safe again and carefully replaced the floor boards, clicking the knots back into place and pushing all but one of the nails back into their slots, so that it was once again firm underfoot. The nail he placed not quite beside the empty hole into which it belonged so that even the most careless searchers might eventually become suspicious.
Ikey spent several minutes more looking about the room and then quietly left, carrying the etching plates and counterfeit notes under his arm. He collected a hemp bag, into which he placed the copper plates and the larger denomination forged notes taken from the safe. Dipping into the interior of his coat he added Mary's ledger, the pewter tankard and the doily, and killing the wick of the bull's eye lamp, he returned it to the scullery, whereupon he let himself out into Bell Alley and back onto Winfield Street. He had less than an hour left before dawn, when the raid was due to take place.