The Thieves' Labyrinth (Albert Newsome 3) (30 page)

Noah sniffed the bottle’s neck and set about cleaning the lacerations above his eye and across his knuckles. If the preparation stung, he showed no sign of it. Then, with that task
completed, he sighed and swigged heavily from the bottle, coughing as the concentrated spirit burned his throat and brought tears to his eyes.

‘I believe it is not to be taken internally,’ said Mr Williamson, taking his seat.

‘The bitterest medicine is sometimes the most efficacious, is it not?’

‘Hmm. Are we to speak in riddles, or will you tell me what has happened?’

‘I am a great advocate of honesty and clarity, at least where trusted fellows are concerned. Are we trusted fellows, George? You were keen enough to escape my presence at the London Dock
when Sir Richard was about. Did he see me whisper to you and reprimand you for it?’

‘He is no longer my superior. I do not work for him.’

‘Indeed, but you evade my question all the same. I will not press you to tell me what you would rather keep confidential . . . but only tell me this: are we still working together on this
mystery of the
Aurora
? Would you prefer me no longer to call at your house?’

‘Hmm. Hmm. Noah – there are things . . .’

‘Are you ashamed to be associated with one such as myself? Do Ben and I sully your good name in the eyes of Sir Richard and those other guardians of justice? Has he, I wonder, hinted that
your return to the Detective Force is dependent on your not associating with the likes of me? I sit here bloodied in the name of a cause I undertook in partnership with you. At least afford me the
respect of a frank answer.’

Mr Williamson sighed. ‘It is something of that sort, Noah.’

‘Then let us speak candidly. Is that what you truly want: a return to the Force?’

‘Noah, I . . . I no longer know. Since I left – or rather, since I was shouldered aside by Inspector Newsome – I have led a purposeless existence. I have engaged in employment
beneath my ability. I have fallen into habits unbecoming—’

‘What habits? You walk the streets. You work. You do not even keep brandy in your house!’

‘I have become degenerate in my thoughts.’

‘O, not this nonsense again. You are referring to the girl Charlotte, of course. Have you been visiting her rooms at Golden-square? Have you been paying for her favours?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Then what sin have you committed other than that of being a man? You think of her often – it is natural enough if she is attractive. It is what she lives for: to captivate men such
as you.’

‘I . . . I dream of her. Indecent dreams . . .’

‘Of course you do. There is no need to blush so. Our animal urges are always stronger than our higher sensibilities. But, George – if I may venture some advice: you cannot love a
whore. She does not seek it and will not be persuaded of it. Her body is her commodity and you cannot afford it for a lifetime. These street girls do not marry. They will not be saved except
through the benediction of wealth.’

‘Hmm. You are right, of course.’

‘But despite knowing this higher truth, you cannot control your feelings. Such is the paradox, and flaw, of all religion, George.’

‘I will not tolerate any of your blasphemy, Noah . . .’

‘It is religion – not desire – that tortures you, George. It is religion that is your inner dictator. Your feelings for Charlotte are natural and pure . . . but only as long as
they are lustful. Do not confuse this with love.’

‘Hmm. Hmm. I . . . it is a personal matter. I must examine my soul for guidance. In the meantime . . . I hope you will respect my disinclination to discuss it further.’

‘I will, but you know you can speak to me on the subject without shame whenever you wish. I have seen the world, George. I have seen horizons and civilizations that you – a man only
of the city – cannot conceive. There is more to this human flesh than nave and steeple, than right and wrong . . .’

‘I know you have had a different life than I, but . . .’

‘Men change, George. Some become better; some become worse. It is within our power to choose.’

‘Hmm – now you sound like Sir Richard . . .’

‘Ha! That is a comparison I would never have expected.’

Mr Williamson did not share the laughter, but turned his gaze once more upon the flames.

‘Very well,’ said Noah, perceiving the dark curtain of melancholy descending upon his friend. ‘I need hardly tell you that Mr Newsome will be pursuing whatever means necessary
to solve the case, whether or not they meet Sir Richard’s notions of morality. Will you discuss the
Aurora
with me, or should I leave you to your fire?’

‘Noah . . . I . . . Tell me about how you received your injuries.’

‘Good. These cuts were dealt me not two hours ago by that mysterious Italian fellow of our recent acquaintance. As you might expect, it was not all one way – I gave a good account of
myself.’

‘What happened? How did you locate him?’

‘That is the most curious thing. I was seeking Eldritch Batchem among the shipping districts and I quite accidentally saw the Italian surreptitiously observing none other than our
russet-capped “investigator”.’

‘Wait – the Italian was
secretly
observing Eldritch Batchem? Why would he do such a thing? And on whose behalf? I cannot imagine Mr Batchem asking his own associate to watch
him.’

‘Precisely. If not Batchem, who
is
watching all of the players in this drama, and why?’

‘Is it possible that Mr Batchem engineered this in order to confuse us and cast our gaze elsewhere?’

‘I have considered it, of course – but no man could have predicted I would be at Ratcliff-highway at that time or place. In truth, this development now seems more logical. For all
his sophistry, Batchem is not particularly sophisticated in his methods, whereas I think we can both agree that the Italian is an admirable exemplar of thievery, observation and stealth. Would such
a man work for our be-capped buffoon?’

‘Hmm. It is a persuasive argument. As I said the other day, I first encountered this Italian
before
Mr Batchem’s theatrical address and Mr Timbs’s challenge. Was he, I
wonder, observing me on a matter unconnected with any investigation into the
Aurora
’s disappearance? Or, rather, in
anticipation
of such an investigation – in order to
gauge what kind of detective I might be? I cannot fathom what other reason he, or his masters, could have for engineering that strange incident.’

‘I, too, sense that my life has been under scrutiny – and not only scrutiny, but also manipulation. Let us not forget the article in
the London Monitor
. Did it not strike you
as strange how much privileged information was revealed there? At the time, I wondered at Batchem having the wherewithal to discern those facts. But now I think about the Italian . . .
he
strikes me as the kind of man who might be able to learn such detail – or who might work with another who has that ability.’

‘Hmm. Then if not Eldritch Batchem, for whom
does
the Italian work? Does it not seem possible that whoever is behind these recent deaths and the disappearance of the vessel is also
behind our Italian?’

‘Quite. And if that is the case, I venture to suggest that we are not dealing with mere smugglers. There is a greater intelligence at work here. If, as now seems likely, Batchem was
not
responsible for the article in
the Monitor
, it would appear someone has been seeking to cast suspicion, quite successfully, on him at the same time as disparagement is heaped on
us. Someone, in short, is not only trying to throw the investigation off the scent but also to damage or denigrate its investigators in the process. Have you heard what has happened to my business
concerns as a result of that article?’

‘Hmm. Hmm. I have heard rumours.’

‘My entire stock confiscated and the manufactory closed until the extent of duties owed can be determined. It is also said that the East India Company is asking about irregularities in the
exports. I am fortunate that my real name appears on no documentation and that my workforce knows nothing of my address.’

‘Hmm. I fear you are quite correct: we face a greater threat than we first imagined. Did you learn nothing more in your altercation with the Italian? There must be something more –
some further hint or clue.’ Mr Williamson reached for his notebook. ‘Tell me
precisely
what happened.’

Noah could not help but smile at the detective’s unchanging method. ‘Very well. It was like this, George: after ascertaining that Batchem was the subject of observation, I turned my
attention instead to the pursuer. And, frankly, I have never seen such ability. Within minutes, he seemed to sense that he was being watched and began to look around him. Only with the greatest
efforts did I manage to remain unseen, but it was inevitable he would finally discern my design and my identity.’

‘He attacked you?’

‘Not immediately. His primary interest was Batchem so he persisted in his pursuit with the frustrating knowledge that I, his shadow, would also benefit. Clearly, he could not allow me that
advantage. He would have to ensure my silence. In such a way did we follow Batchem about the environs of Ratcliff-highway for almost an hour, watching him enquire at public houses and among the
seafaring classes thereabouts.’

‘What was the nature of his investigation?’

‘I will come to that in a moment. However, when it became clear that Batchem was returning west to his hotel, the Italian appeared promptly to vanish. One moment he was in my vision and
the next he was gone, perhaps as a wagon passed through my line of sight. Evidently, he expected me to pursue him in the vicinity of my last sighting: down an alley between two shops. It was
clearly a trap, but I was in an intemperate humour and rather relished the challenge. Moreover, I was armed, as I knew he must also be.’

‘Noah . . . tell me that you did not kill the man.’

‘Your mortal soul need not bear that burden. I entered the alley with my dagger drawn and saw no sign of him – not even a scent. But I felt he was there, lurking. No doubt he was
expecting a cautious approach, so I took the opposite action and proceeded noisily, whistling and kicking at debris for all the world like a passing sailor planning to use the space as a toilet.
Such a strategy would perhaps give him pause and a moment of doubt as to whether I was indeed the one who had been observing him. It was a successful ruse: I saw him peep out from behind a buttress
and our eyes met.’

‘And what of the man? Did he speak? Did he show any fear?’

‘Quite the contrary. He smiled and nodded as if to acknowledge an equal in his deceptive art. But there could be no conversation. He leaped at me with a thin stiletto blade and we fought.
I will admit he was an accomplished man with a knife, but we were evenly matched and I left him with a gash to his neck. As soon as he realized he could not easily kill me, he took the sensible
decision and fled.’

‘You did not think to follow him? He might have led you to the one who controls him.’

‘I believe that
two
bloodied men running through Ratcliff-highway may have excited the wrong kind of attention, George. And in any event, we need only look behind us if we want to
locate the fellow again. Think also of this: whoever controls the man now knows what we know.’

‘Hmm. What
do
we know? That some invisible hand controls a murderous Italian? That Eldritch Batchem is not perhaps the person we had assumed him to be? I see little improvement in
our current position.’

‘As I say, whoever is watching this investigation is also visible through their observation of it. They will follow where we lead.’

‘Or they will kill us, Noah.’

‘They have resisted that course of action thus far – though I cannot explain why. Perhaps it is a case of seeing how close we come to the solution before they strike. The only course
of action is to proceed with what we know. Either we will reach the end of this mystery, or we will again encounter its perpetrators during our attempts.’

‘Hmm. You said that Mr Batchem was pursuing his own avenues of investigation about Ratcliff-highway. What of those?’

‘Quite. Taking advantage of my bloodied state, I returned to the sites of his earlier questioning and lied that a man in a red cap had just assaulted me. Had they seen such a man? Some
replied that they had and that he had been asking about the first mate of the
Aurora
, a fellow named Hampton. I trust he was not among those found in barrels?’

‘That is correct. He is the one mariner not accounted for, although I fear Mr Batchem’s searches are quite in vain – it seems Inspector Newsome showed a likeness of this fellow
Hampton to the ship-owner some days ago. Sir Richard believes the body was pulled out of the river by the Thames Police shortly after the vessel went missing.’

‘It matters not. One of the men to whom I spoke had suggested to Batchem that he might visit the rat fights at the Forecastle public house off Ratcliff-highway this evening. It is
apparently a well-attended spectacle and somebody there may know of first mate Hampton. Therefore, if I sought redress from my “attacker” I might follow suit and visit the
place.’

‘I know the Forecastle by reputation,’ said Mr Williamson. “Drinking, dogs and death” – that’s what the local constables say about the place.’

‘Well, we might consider a trip to “the rats” if that is where Batchem is to be. If we attend, it is highly possible our Italian, or one of his fellows, might also make an
appearance.’

‘Hmm. It seems a hazardous course – or a possible trap. Did you learn nothing further from your visits among the receivers? Perhaps that is a safer route.’

‘I have Ben watching the large silk emporium on Ludgate-hill. It seems they are about to receive a large order from a dubious source. I am afraid, however, that Inspector Newsome has had
the same idea – I met him there just before the discovery at the London Dock. What of our Mr Cullen? Have you had any reports from his labour at the wharfs?’