The Potato Factory (50 page)

Alas, the best laid plans... ! Ikey was not to know that his luck was on its way to Van Diemen's Land and, at the moment of Hannah's receiving his letter in London, it was dangling freely on its gold chain about the scrawny neck of Tiberias Potbottom.

The London police records of the time show that a large consignment of watches, said to be more than one hundred, were stolen from the premises of a wholesale merchant in Cheapside. This coincidence was to completely change the lives and luck of Hannah and Ikey Solomon.

A theft of such proportion would soon be known in the Whitechapel markets and in Rosemary and Petticoat Lanes and around the Haymarket, where there would be much discussion as to who might have brought it about and who might be capable of fencing such a 'delicate' haul.

It might at first be supposed that it would be simple enough to bring a consignment of new watches back onto the market, but such was not the case. The numbers and markings of the watches were all furnished to the police, being available from the manufacturer, and so each watch would need to be carefully 'christened', that is, the number altered and the name upon the face carefully removed or the face itself replaced. This was a task which took some skill and, moreover, time and was not often worthy of completion on a fob watch that was not of gold or silver. The watches taken were of a varying assortment, but mostly at the cheaper end of the quality market. This meant that such merchandise, while cheaply procured by a fence, was difficult to place into circulation -a trickle placed here and there in market towns and country fairs and all of this over a lengthy period of time, so that the risk of discovering the source of the trickle was greatly decreased.

Hannah, hearing of the theft, was quick to realise that it matched almost precisely the consignment Ikey had commanded her to obtain. Accordingly, and contrary to Ikey's instructions that '...
none but "righteous" watches be sent and not to touch even one what has been gained "on the cross"
', Hannah sent for Bob Marley.

It was late afternoon when Marley knocked on the door of Hannah's Whitechapel home. He was dressed as a regular toff, ready for an evening of jollifications in Drury Lane and the Haymarket, and did not even bother to remove his top hat as he entered the house. This was an intended insult, designed to go along with his failure to greet Hannah as he brushed past her into the familiar parlour. Here he appropriated a glass of the good brandy Hannah had got in and took a bagel from the plate. He commenced to chew with his mouth open; his two gold eye teeth showed clearly as he stared blankly at Hannah, who had followed him silently into the parlour.

'Long time no see, eh, Bob?'

Marley took a gulp of brandy then pushed what remained of the bagel into his mouth. He did not acknowledge her greeting, sucking the crumbs from his fingers as he continued to stare at Hannah.

Hannah smiled ingratiatingly. 'Now, don't be like that, Bob, it were only business.'

'Humph!' Marley grunted.

'Ya done me one in the eye when they made the raid on Bell Alley, ya took me money under false pretences!' Hannah shrugged. 'So I got me revenge.' She grinned. 'That's all, it were tit f' tat!'

Marley swallowed, his Adam's apple bouncing. 'Ya made me look like a copper's nark! That's not the same thing! Me, a man o' me word, I gave Ikey me word, I took his contract!' He paused and took a slug of the brandy. 'Ya done in me fuckin' reputation!'

Hannah laughed uneasily, but then brightened. 'Well Ikey escaped anyway, no 'arm done, in the end ya done 'im a big favour, know what I mean?'

Marley jumped suddenly from the chair and grabbed Hannah by the throat with one large hand. 'Fuck Ikey! It were me reputation ya destroyed! Me a copper's nark, a fuckin' informer!' He shook Hannah, almost lifting her feet from the ground. 'Ain't nobody what trusts me no more!' His fingers tightened about her neck and Hannah's face grew purple, her eyes almost popping from their sockets. 'Don't never try that again, ya 'ear? You'll be dead meat!' Bob Marley released Hannah, who sank to her knees clutching her neck with both hands, forcing herself not to sob. Bob Marley held an open razor in his right hand.

Marley flicked the razor closed and placed it in the pocket of his coat, then threw back his head and swallowed the rest of his brandy. He thumped the glass down upon the table and started towards the door.

'I trusts ya, Bob,' Hannah said in a hoarse voice, rising slowly to her feet. 'Please wait.'

Bob Marley turned at the door and gave a short laugh. 'Ya trusts me! Well ain't that a fuckin' caution!'

Hannah moved up to him and touched him on the sleeve. 'Please?' she smiled again, her throat aching. 'G'warn, 'ave another brandy, a nice bagel, do ya good. I can explain everyfink, honest.'

Marley, eyeing the bottle of excellent brandy, hesitated. 'Explain what?' He crossed back to the bottle. 'Ain't nuffink to explain, ya fucked me reputation, that's all!'

'It ain't true, Bob. You is the best. Ya always was, ya still is. The best there be. Ikey always says, " 'E's the best, 'e is, always use the best, Hannah". I says so too, the best o' the best!'

Bob Marley looked up at Hannah, his expression slightly mollified. 'What's ya want?'

'Watches!' Hannah removed Ikey's letter from within her bodice and waved it. 'Ikey wants watches in America.'

Despite himself Bob Marley was impressed. 'Jesus! 'E made it, eh? Cunnin' bastard!' He poured more brandy into his glass and glanced up at Hannah. 'Fencin' then is 'e?'

Hannah was reluctant to explain. 'Yeah, sorta.' She replaced the letter. 'Them watches what's been lifted from Cheapside, know anyfink?'

Marley shook his head. 'Too 'ot, 'Annah, they's got to cool down first, ain't nobody goin' to handle them yet. They's numbered and all, mostly cheap shit, not worth christenin'.'

'Could ya find 'em?' Hannah asked. 'Make a good buy? I'll take the lot if the askin' price be right.'

Marley shook his head. 'Too dangerous. I told ya, watches be too 'ot to touch!'

'I'll pay fifty per cent o' the shop price,' Hannah said quickly, knowing this to be a generous offer, also knowing that she would charge Ikey the full retail price for the watches.

'Sixty! Sixty per cent o' the retail, take it or leave it. And I'll need twenty sovs down payment,' Marley said emphatically. 'There's expenses, ya understand?'

Hannah nodded but inwardly she was concerned that Marley was losing his grip, that perhaps he
had
lost his reputation and therefore his old, greedy confidence. His sudden attack on her had left her frightened, but in the peculiar way of villains, it had also given her confidence in him. You knew where you stood. She'd fully expected to pay sixty per cent of the full price of the watches, but she'd also set aside fifty gold sovereigns as the down payment.

'Sure, I understand,' she said. 'Gimme a mo', I'll fetch it fer ya.'

'Mind, I can't take no chances,' Marley said. 'It may take a while to get to them yacks.' This was said almost as an aside.

Hannah turned at the door. 'Not too long, Bob. Ikey 'as great expectations.'

Marley frowned and shook his head slowly. 'If I 'as to take chances, make indiscreet enquiries like, that's no good fer me 'ealth! Pigs is everywhere, the Lane's tight as a duck's arse!' He looked over to where Hannah was standing and sighed. ' 'Fraid that kind o' haste is gunna cost you forty sovs extra on the down.'

Hannah smiled inwardly, her mind put at rest. She was dealing with the same dead cunning Bob Marley. She was anxious to get the watches and so impress Ikey with her diligence and continuing goodwill towards him. She was not foolish enough to imagine that he would send her his half of the combination after only one such consignment, but her heart had lifted at the opportunity his letter presented. She had high hopes that Ikey must eventually send her the combination to the safe when she pleaded impecuniosity, his debts incurred by his orders having become too large for her to carry any further on her own. Whereupon she would be rid of him forever.

But Hannah had completely underestimated Bob Marley. She'd quickly come to see his attack on her as a show, a token effort to assert his male pride, give her a fright, as he had well succeeded in doing. She didn't think for a moment he would have used the razor. Marley, Hannah felt certain, could always be bought with gold.

She was wrong, however. Marley would have used the razor on her as lightly as he would have smiled. Hannah was unable to see the proud man who despised his fellow villains and thought himself quite different. She did not comprehend that, in his own eyes (and no others counted), she had damaged his reputation and done him irreparable harm. When she'd shifted the blame for betraying Ikey to the police onto him, she had delivered a blow to his pride which could entertain no possible forgiveness. Marley did business only for solid gold, for that is how he saw his reputation. And he always delivered. Hannah had compromised him, and because he always delivered, she would be no exception. The wolf would tear her flesh as well as any other.

Bob Marley made no attempt to locate the whereabouts of the watches stolen from Cheapside, this being much too dangerous. Instead he made directly for a jeweller of his acquaintance in the Haymarket, a Polish Jew by the name of Isaac Isaacson whom Ikey had used regularly when Marley had been his snakesman as a child. It was Isaacson who had moulded and created Marley's two gold teeth and so it came as somewhat of a surprise when his visitor bid him find one hundred mixed watches of brand new quality and all righteously purchased. They haggled at great length to finally reach an agreement of a thirty per cent reduction off the retail price of the proposed consignment.

Bob Marley was about to leave the premises reasonably well satisfied with the negotiations when Isaac Isaacson beckoned him to come closer. He explained in an urgent whisper that he was long owed a certain sum of money for a gold and diamond bracelet sold to a Miss Myrtle Manners, the governess of a well-known brothel in the Strand known appropriately enough as 'Girls with good Manners'. This 'Governess o' whores', he claimed, had flatly refused to pay him the final two instalments, a sum of three hundred pounds, claiming he had overcharged her and pointing out, with the least amount of subtlety, that she enjoyed the special patronage and protection of a senior police officer in the Haymarket watchhouse.

'You can cut, maybe a little, this person, ja?' Isaacson enquired of Bob Marley.

'Most certainly!' Marley replied. 'It'd be me pleasure to be o' service, Mr Isaacson.' He paused and scratched his eyebrow with the tip of his forefinger. 'Though it'll cost ya anuvver ten percent orf the cost o' the yacks. O' course, if ya wants a really nasty acid job, right down a cheekbone, and includin' a little turn o' the blade to slice away the corner o' the gob so it don't fit proper no more, it could be a little extra.'

Isaac Isaacson grew suddenly pale and threw his hands up in alarm. 'No, no! Ten per cent, no more, please, I beg you! A small violence only, if you please!'

Bob Marley grinned. 'Fer ten percent I can do ya a nice little job, Mr Isaacson. Gimme two days. Reckon you'll 'ave the yacks ready by then?'

The jeweller nodded, hunched his shoulders and spread his hands. 'A little cut, no more!' he begged again.

Bob Marley left the Haymarket and made his way to the Hare and Hounds in Rosemary Lane almost directly opposite the Methodist Academy of Light Fingers. He had not long to wait before he observed a boy leave the Academy in an old coat that fell to beyond his knees, the sleeves rolled up to fit his scrawny arms, bare feet showing below ragged trousers. The brat crossed the street to enter the tavern and Marley observed him to be snotnosed, dirty and small, with the pinched, rodent-like features of a street urchin. He appeared to be about ten years old as he placed two pennies down on the counter and ordered a daffy of gin.

'Make that a shant, m'dear!' Marley called to the barmaid.

The barmaid and the urchin both looked up at Marley. 'Suit yerself,' she said, picking up a bigger glass.

'And a double o' yer best brandy, love. I'll pay fer the lad's.'

The boy looked up at Bob Marley. 'You a turd burglar, mister?' he asked, swiftly taking up the two pennies on the counter and dropping them into the pocket of his coat.

Bob Marley enquired if the urchin knew Sparrer Fart.

'Maybe I does and then maybe I doesn't,' the boy replied cheekily.

'Tell 'im I wants to see 'im, two o' the clock termorra, in 'ere. Tell 'im no 'ard feelin's, I wants a job done, Bob Marley wants a job done. Got it?'

The boy nodded.

Marley lifted his head and called to the barmaid. 'Another gin fer the lad, love!' Then he placed a shilling on the counter and without a further glance at the boy he left the tavern.

*

Sparrer Fart was waiting for Marley when he entered the Hare and Hounds the following day. He was wearing a slightly battered top hat, coat and breeches all of which fitted him surprisingly well, though his entire outfit, including his shirt, neckerchief and scuffed boots, bore the signs of having been placed upon his tiny body some months previously and not having since been removed for the purposes of laundering. His face seemed also to have missed this opportunity to wash. Sparrer looked somewhat apprehensive as Bob Marley approached, backing into the safety of a group of men standing at the bar and glancing quickly over his shoulder to ascertain the shortest escape route should he have to make a sudden dash for it.