The Winter Rose (68 page)

No, he said silently, not thinking of himself and the trouble he was in, but of his sister. Not them. Please. Not Fee. Not Joe.

"We're done for," Desi said. "Why'd you do it, Sid? The bloody MP of all people! Did you think no one would notice?"

"I didn't do it!" Sid said.

"Oh, aye? Who did, then?"

"Desmond Shaw! This is Detective Inspector Alvin Donaldson. I have a warrant for your arrest. Open the door."

"Bloody hell!" Desi swore. "On what charges?" he yelled back.

"Harboring a fugitive. Open the door!"

"Keep your knickers on!" Desi yelled. He turned to Sid. "The
tunnels," he said. "Go. All of you. I'll hold them off long as I can."

"No. Oz and Ron should stay."

"And get nicked into the bargain? No thanks," Ozzie said.

"They'll keep you overnight, then let you go. They'll have to," Sid argued.

"Keep talking, ladies, and we're all nicked," Desi said tightly.

"We're going with you. There's strength in numbers," Ronnie said,
pulling Sid toward the basement stairs. Sid knew that, as much as they
hated him right now, they hated the law even more and they'd do
everything they could to keep him out of Donaldson's hands.

The three men were down the steps and at the trapdoor in seconds. Sid
hoisted it up. Ronnie jumped down and scrabbled for the lantern they
kept at the ready. Oz followed. Sid was just pulling the door closed
when they heard Donaldson's voice overhead.

"The basement. Quickly," he barked. "There's a bolthole down there."

Feet pounded down the stairs. Sid slammed the door down. He grabbed
the large metal ring attached to its underside and hung from it. Ozzie
leaped up, caught the ring, and did the same. Together they made more
than 350 pounds of dead weight.

"We can't open it, sir," said a voice from above them.

"Get a shovel, wedge it under the edge," Donaldson ordered.

"There isn't one."

"Then smash a bloody keg! We'll use a stave."

"Guv, I can't find the lantern!" Ronnie whispered, panic in his voice.

"Never mind the lantern, find the hook!" Sid hissed.

A thick metal chain hung down from the ring in the door. At its end
was an iron grappling hook. There was another ring in the floor. All
Ronnie had to do was find it and hook the chain to it. Sid heard him
fumbling in the dark, felt his hands against his legs. Finally, he found
the chain. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal and
then, "She's in. Let's go!"

Sid and Ozzie released the ring and fell to the ground. There was a
square of light above their heads as the door came up an inch or so,
then slammed back down.

"They've hooked it shut!" one of the officers yelled.

"Find an axe," Donaldson yelled. "We'll chop it open."

Sid found the lantern, pulled a pack of matches from his pocket, and
lit it. The light was weak, but it was enough to illuminate a yard or so
in front of them, and that was all they needed.

"The Blind Beggar?" Ronnie asked, leading the way.

"No. They'll have men there. I'm sure of it. Head to Sally's. She'll take care of us."

They'd walked fifty or so yards into the tunnel when Ozzie suddenly said, "Guv?"

"What?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"I didn't do it."

"Come on, guv."

"You've been with me for five years now, Oz. Is shooting a man in broad daylight with a room full of witnesses my style?"

"No. But if you didn't, who did? And why did he give your name?"

"I don't know."

"It don't look good."

"No, it doesn't."

"Whoever did it knows Bristow had a beef with you. Maybe it was
someone in the Bark. Someone who was there the other day. When he came
looking for you and had ructions with Frankie instead. Remember? And
when he left, you had a row with Frankie and told him you was out, and
then Frankie..."

Sid stopped dead. He turned around. "Jesus Christ," he said. "Frankie."

India stopped dead in the middle of Dean Street. She turned around in
a circle, panting with exhaustion, hoping to spot a familiar building
or sign.

Some kind of landmark. They'd come this way when they were running
from Devlin, she and Sid. She was sure of it. They'd made a right,
hadn't they? Or was it a left?

She started walking again, certain the house she wanted was just up
ahead, then stopped again, disoriented. In the time that had elapsed
since she'd left the clinic she'd raced to the Bark and the Taj Mahal,
desperately trying to find him, but she hadn't.

She closed her eyes, trying to fight down the panic rising in her,
trying to clear her head so that she could remember the way. But her
mind was jammed with voices. Donaldson's--telling her that Sid had shot
Joseph Bristow. Harriet's--pleading with her to hide from him.
Ella's--urging her to find him.

"Let me understand this," Harriet had said, following her into her
office after Donaldson had left. "You're leaving the clinic to run off
with a murderer."

"Don't say that!" India cried, grabbing her jacket and bag. "He didn't do it. I know he didn't."

"When did you last see him, India?" Ella asked.

"This morning, Ella. At your house. He said he was going to
Whitechapel. I didn't want him to go. But he said he had to. That he had
one last thing to do."

"Good God, India! What more proof do you need?" Harriet shouted.

"None. I don't need any bloody proof. Because I know he didn't do it!" India shouted back.

"Be quiet! Both of you," Ella said. She bit her lip, thinking, then
said, "There's one man who can tell us everything we need to know--Joe
Bristow."

"If only he would regain consciousness," India said.

"Yes, well, we know what the likelihood of that is, don't we?" Harriet snapped.

"He'll pull through. He will. He's made it this far. And when he does he can tell the police that it wasn't Sid."

"Could be days before that happens. Could be never. Go, India. Find Sid. Before the police do," Ella said.

"Do that, India, and you'll become part of it," Harriet warned. "Help him in any way at all and you're an accessory to a crime."

India had looked at them both, her face a picture of anguish. She
told them to take good care of Joe Bristow, that she'd be back in an
hour or two, and then she'd run out of the building into Gunthorpe
Street, where she'd nearly thrown herself in front of a cab to get it to
stop.

"Can I help you, miss?" a friendly voice said now.

India opened her eyes. An elderly man, gray-haired with a black mustache, was leaning on a broom by the curb in front of her.

"I'm looking for someone," she said. "Sally is her name. She's an older woman. She's small, with gray hair."

"That sounds like Raysie's missus. Sally Garrett. She's number four. See it? It's just up there. On your right."

India thanked the man and hurried off. She knocked on the front door
of number 4. When no one came, she pushed it open and walked inside. She
remembered which was Sally's door; it was all the way at the back of
the hall. She knocked but got no answer. She tried again.

"What the hell do you want?" a voice called.

"I want to talk to you," India called back. "I'm a friend of Sid Malone's."

The door was wrenched open. "Keep your bloody voice down!" Sally hissed. She grabbed India's arm and pulled her inside.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean--" India began.

"Did anyone see you?"

"See me?" India echoed, confused.

"Coming in. Whole of Whitechapel is crawling with rozzers. Were you followed?"

"I ...I don't think so."

"Did anyone talk to you? Stop you?"

"No ait, yes. A street sweeper. I was lost. He helped me find my way."

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know. Average height. Gray hair..."

"Did he have a mustache?"

"Yes."

Sally spat into her fireplace. "Bleedin' Willie Dobbs," she growled. "They'll be here in a few minutes. Bound to be."

"Who will be here?"

"The rozzers. Willie's from the local constabulary. Well, he was.
He's retired now. Can't believe he's still using that same mustache.
Looks like he tore it off a cat."

"But I don't understand."

Sally frowned. "Not Sid's usual type, you. Not too quick on the uptake. His last one, Gemma Dean, now she was a sharp lass."

She cackled at India's puzzled expression, then rubbed her thumb and
fingers together. "Willie's after the reward money, luv. Him and half of
Whitechapel. He thinks he's going to get it by watching me. He's seen
Sid come and go from here before and he must think he's going to pay me
another call. He don't know about the tunnels, though."

"Mrs. Garrett, please... what are you talking about? What reward money?"

"A thousand quid. For information leading to Sid Malone's arrest.
Bloody MP put it up, didn't he? Pillock's gone and got the whole of East
London fired up. Promising rewards. Calling for Sid's head. Spouting
off in all the newspapers."

"But that can't be," India said. "I've just come from operating on him and he's unconscious. He hasn't spoken at all."

"Not him. The old one. Lytton."

Oh God, not Freddie, India thought. She knew how deeply he hated Sid.
He'd obviously seen his chance to go after him and he'd taken it.

"I saw him standing on the steps of the MP's office not two hours
ago. He was giving statements to the papers. Telling anyone who'd listen
that Sid Malone had done for Joe Bristow, that it was an outrage and
not to be borne by decent folk. He was up there making out like he was
all broken up over what had happened to Bristow, when only a few weeks
ago, he was slagging him off."

"Mrs. Garrett..."

"Now, them what are the real villains wouldn't turn Sid in for any
amount of money, but there are those round here who'd sell their mothers
for tuppence. And Willie Dobbs is one. He's in a great deal of trouble,
Sid is."

"I know he is, Mrs. Garrett. That's why I'm here. To ask you if you've any idea where he might be."

Sally shrugged. "The usual places, I'd guess. The Bark, the Taj, the Beggar..."

"I've been to all of those."

"You went to them places?"

"Yes."

"Well, that was bloody stupid of you," Sally said angrily.

"But why? I want to help him," India said, stung.

"In case you haven't noticed, you don't exactly blend in round here.
Woman like you popping into the Bark or the Taj is bound to draw
attention. Bound to start tongues wagging. The rozzers aren't entirely
daft. They know a villain will surface for two things--his money and his
mistress. Nobody knows where Sid keeps his pile, but now, thanks to
your antics, they know who his fancy lady is. They don't even need
Willie Dobbs, they've prob'ly been following you. You want to help him,
dearie? Go back to Mayfair or Knightsbridge or wherever it is you're
from and stay the hell away from him."

India looked at the floor. She cleared her throat, then softly said,
"I have a letter. I hoped you might be able to give it to him."

"You hoped wrong. If Dobbs does bring the police here, they'll tear me flat apart. They always do."

India reached into her doctor's bag and drew out an envelope. "Please," she said.

Sally snatched it from her and threw it onto the fire. India watched helplessly as it burned.

"You'll put us all in danger now, you daft girl! No letters! Just
tell me what it is you want him to know. I'll give him the message."

"Tell him to meet me at the flat on Friday at noon. We'll leave from there."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it." Sally might think her foolish, but she was smart
enough not to mention the Arden Street address if she didn't have to.

"If I see him I'll tell him," Sally said. "Now it's time for you to be on your way."

She opened the door to let India out, then quickly slammed it shut.

"The police are here," she said. "All thanks to you. Going to give me
flat a right going over, I just know it. If they put me in jail, I
won't be able to visit Raysie in the hospital, and he lives for me
visits. Come on," she said, pulling on her sleeve.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm not going anywhere. You are, though. You're leaving."

"But the door..."

"Not that way. Through the tunnels. I'll tell the police Dobbsie's
imagining things. That no one came to see me. I'm not getting nicked
today. Not over the likes of you."

"The tunnels?" she repeated, paling. "But I don't ...I n't go down

ca

there."

There was a battering on Sally's door.

"Sorry," she said. "You've no choice."

"I can't do this. I don't know my way," India said two minutes later.
She was hunched in the tunnel, clutching her doctor's bag, peering back
at Sally through the old wardrobe.

A fresh volley of pounding was heard above them.

"You want the Blind Beggar," Sally said. "It's a quarter of a mile.
Take two rights, a left, and then the path curves right again. You'll
pass smaller tunnels. Steer clear of them."

"What if I get lost?"

"See that you don't."

And with that, the door to the wardrobe slammed shut and India stood
alone in the darkness. The smell of earth was so strong she could taste
it. She felt as if she'd been buried alive.

Sally had given her a box of matches and a candle. After a few
fumbling attempts she got the candle lit, but the guttering flame barely
illuminated the ground in front of her. Her chest tightened; it was
hard to draw air.

"Breathe," India told herself. "Just breathe." A drop of icy water
fell onto the back of her neck, making her shiver. More water trickled
down the walls. She realized she was standing in a puddle. "Move. Now,"
she said. "One step...then another."

She forced herself forward, holding her candle in front of her. After
she'd gone a few yards, a narrow tunnel snaked off to the left. Two
rights and a left, Sally had said. Or was it two lefts and a right? No,
two rights, she was sure of it.