The Wild Rose (37 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

“Fucking hell! It
is
you!” Teddy Ko bellowed.

Teddy was standing in the doorway of his Limehouse office, wearing a gold ring, diamond cuff links, and a striped flannel suit—one that all but shouted
wide boy
.

“Couldn’t believe me ears when Mai here said Sid Malone wants to see me. Fucking Sid Malone! I thought you was dead, Sid. Last I heard, you was floating facedown in the Thames.”

Sid forced a smile. “Can’t believe everything you hear, Teddy.”

“Come in! Come in!” Teddy said, waving Sid into his office. “Mai!” he shouted at his secretary. “Bring us some whiskey. Cigars, too. Hurry up!”

That’s our Teddy, Sid thought. Always a charmer.

Teddy sat down at a huge desk, fashioned from ebony and embellished with paintings of dragons, and motioned for Sid to take one of the chairs across from him.

As he did, Sid looked around the large and opulently appointed room. On the walls hung richly embroidered ceremonial robes from China, crossed swords with jeweled hilts, and hand-colored photographs of Peking. Tall blue and white urns stood in the corners of the room. Thick rugs with more dragons on them covered the floor.

Sid remembered when Teddy worked out of a room in one of his laundries. Back when he paid Sid protection money. Back when Sid was the governor—the biggest, most feared crime lord in all of London.

“You’ve come up in the world, Teddy,” he said.

Teddy chuckled, pleased by the compliment. “Got fifty-eight laundries now, me. All over London. A big importing business, too—porcelain, furniture, artworks, silk, parasols, you name it—direct from Shanghai to London.” His voice dropped. “That’s the legit side. I’m still going gangbusters with the drugs. Branched off into prostitution, too. Got whorehouses in the East End and the West. Twenty-three and counting.”

“That’s wonderful, Teddy,” Sid said. He couldn’t quite muster a warm
Congratulations
.

“What about you? Where have you been? What have you been doing with yourself all these years?”

“It’s a long story,” Sid said. “I’ve been out of the country.”

Teddy nodded knowingly. “Busies made it too hot for you here, did they?” he said. “Had to go farther afield? Well, I imagine the villainy’s just as good in Dublin or Glasgow or wherever it is you are now.”

Sid smiled. It was fine with him if Teddy thought he was up to no good elsewhere. He was not about to tell Teddy Ko, or anyone else from his old life, about his new life or his new last name. His wife, his children, America—it was all off-limits.

Teddy’s secretary entered his office. She placed a silver tray on the table. On it was a bottle of scotch, a bucket of ice, two crystal glasses, and a small wooden humidor. She poured the men their whiskey, trimmed and lit their cigars, then quietly disappeared again. Sid didn’t want either the drink or the smoke, but he felt it would be rude to refuse them.

“So, Sid,” Teddy said, glancing at his watch, “what can I do for you? What brings you here? Business or pleasure?”

“Neither,” Sid said. “I’m here as a favor to a friend.”

Teddy, puffing away on his cigar, raised an eyebrow. “Go on,” he said.

“A few years ago, right before the war started, a former customer of yours, Maud Selwyn Jones, overdosed on morphine.”

“I remember. It was a shame, that.”

“Did she get it from you?”

Teddy leaned forward in his chair. His smile was gone. “Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. Either way, why the fuck would I tell you?” he said. “You’ve been gone a long time, Sid. Things have changed. You’re not the guv anymore. You want something from me now, you can pay for it. Just like everyone else.”

Sid had anticipated this. He reached inside his jacket. He pulled out an envelope and pushed it across the desk to Teddy.

Teddy opened the envelope, counted its contents—which came to a hundred pounds—then said, “I didn’t sell the morphine to Maud. I barely sold her anything anymore. She’d quit coming to the dens years ago. After that bloody doctor, her sister or whatever the hell she was, tried to drag her out. Meddling bitch, she was. Bent on wrecking my business.”

Sid’s jaw tightened at that, but he said nothing. A bust-up with Teddy wouldn’t serve his purposes. “Did she look like an addict to you?” he asked. “The last time you saw her?”

Teddy shook his head. “No, she didn’t. She was thin, but she was always thin. She didn’t have the hop-fiend look. You know, all pale skin and dark circles under the eyes and desperate. I know a lot of addicts. Maud didn’t look like one.”

“Did you hear anything about it at the time? From anyone else in the business? Did anyone else you know sell Maud any morphine?” he asked.

Teddy shook his head. “Not that I know of. But I hardly went round asking, did I?”

“Can you ask now?”

Teddy shrugged. “For a hundred quid I can do a lot of things,” he said. “But it was over four years ago, wasn’t it? I’m not sure how much I can find out. Why is it so important to you?”

“I’d appreciate anything you can do, Teddy,” Sid said, stubbing out the rest of his cigar.

“Where can I get hold of you? If I find out anything?” Teddy asked.

“I’ll get hold of you.”

“When? I’m a busy man.”

“How about we meet right here again? In a month’s time. Same day. In September.”

“I’ll try me best,” Teddy said.

Sid rose to take his leave.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Teddy said. “You only just got here. Let me show you round the place.”

Sid noted that Teddy looked at his watch again as he spoke. He’d said he was a busy man. Undoubtedly he had places to go and things to do, but oddly, it seemed to Sid that Teddy wanted to keep talking, to hold him here. Sid didn’t want to stay. He couldn’t wait to get out of the East End, to get away from all the memories and all the ghosts.

Teddy wouldn’t hear of his leaving, though. He had to at least see the warehouse first. Sid agreed, reluctantly. He wanted Teddy to do him a favor, and if admiring the warehouse was what it took to get Teddy’s goodwill, he would do it.

They walked out of Teddy’s two-story office building, to the four-story warehouse that abutted it. As he stepped inside, Sid felt as if he’d stepped into a giant, sprawling Chinese bazaar. There were huge brightly painted beds. Tables inlaid with mother-of-pearl, ebony, and ivory. Giant blue-glazed statues of lions and dogs. Urns large enough to plant trees in. There were vases and teapots and gongs. Rolled up rugs were propped against the walls. Bolts of silks and satins were stacked on shelves. There were open crates containing beaded necklaces, bracelets carved of cinnabar, and tiny jade figurines. Teddy reached into one crate, pulled out a small carved Buddha, no taller than two inches, and gave it to Sid.

“For good luck,” he said, winking.

“Thank you, Teddy,” Sid said, putting the figurine in his jacket pocket.

“Here, this’ll interest you. Come take a look,” Teddy said.

He led Sid upstairs to the second floor. It was filled with tea chests. Teddy pried the lid off one, dug deep down into the rich black tea that filled it, and pulled up a large, dark brown lump, roughly the shape and size of a cannonball.

“Chinese opium. The purest. The very best. It comes in buried in tea chests. Stuffed inside statues. Teapots. Furniture. And it goes out through my laundries, cut up and wrapped in brown paper like a bundle of napkins or shirts. And Old Bill’s none the wiser.”

“You were always a clever one, Teddy. Always going places,” Sid said. “I’ve got to hand it to you.”

Teddy didn’t give a damn about the people the drug enslaved. He didn’t care whether they could afford it or not. Whether they went without shoes, or clothes, or food to fund their habit. Or whether their children did. He’d made himself a bundle in the opium trade, stood to make a lot more, and that’s all that counted. Sid knew this, for he’d been the same as Teddy once, done the same things. A long time ago. In another life. Before he’d met India.

Teddy held the fat brown lump out to Sid now. “You want a taste? I’ll have Mai fix us a pipe. Get us a couple of girls, too. Just like old times.”

“Thanks, Teddy, but I have to be off.”

Out on the sidewalk, Sid said his good-byes. Teddy shook his hand, glancing up the street as he did, and said, “I’ll start asking around on the other thing. Hopefully I’ll get something for you. Same day next month, right?”

“Right-o,” Sid said. He hunched his shoulders against a sudden August rain shower and started walking west. He passed by several small, dreary shops, a rope-maker’s, and two dingy pubs. On the corner, three little girls, not one of whom was dressed for the weather, were jumping rope and singing a morbid rhyme.

There was a little bird, her name was Enza.

I opened the window and in flew Enza.

The Spanish flu had already cropped up in Scotland, India had said. Sid shuddered to think what would happen if it hit the East End. The area, with its notorious overcrowding and poor sanitation, would provide an ideal breeding ground for the disease. It would move through the slums like wildfire.

Five minutes later, he found a hackney cab, climbed inside, and told the driver to take him to Paddington Station. He was well on his way out of Limehouse by the time a carriage, sleek and black, pulled up in front of Teddy’s offices, so he did not see the two men step out of it—one wearing the rough clothes of a riverman, the other in a flash suit, tugging on a gold earring and smiling with a mouthful of black, rotted teeth.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

“Hello, Mai, darling,” Billy Madden said. “Where’s that boss of yours?”

“He’s in his office, Mr. Madden,” Mai said. “He’s expecting you. What may I get for you? Tea? Whiskey?”

Billy put his hands on Mai’s desk. He leaned in close to her and smiled horribly. “How about yourself, you lovely little lotus flower? Buck naked on a bed in the back? I’ve always wanted to see what’s under those pretty silk dresses of yours.”

The man with Billy looked away, clearly uncomfortable. Mai colored, but her polite smile didn’t falter. “If you would like, Mr. Madden, I can arrange a girl for you when your are finished with Mr. Ko,” she said.

Billy’s smile faded. His eyes turned hard. “I told you what I would like. You. On your back. Now get up and get your knickers off, you useless . . .”

Teddy, hearing Billy’s voice, stepped out of his office and saw what was going on.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Billy, you don’t want her,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. “She’s got smaller tits than you do. Why do you think she’s here doing my typing instead of working in one of my whorehouses?”

“Is that so?” Billy said.

He walked around Mai’s desk, behind Mai herself. Then he reached around her and cupped her small breasts, weighing them in his hands. Mai stiffened. She swallowed hard, stared straight ahead, and did not make a sound.

Anger rose in Teddy. He liked Mai. She was a nice girl, not a tart. She was good at her job. She didn’t deserve this. But Billy was the guv’nor. He took what he wanted. If he wanted Mai, he’d have her, and there wasn’t a damn thing Teddy or anyone else could do about it.

“You’re right, Teddy,” Billy finally said. “Not enough here to keep me happy. Back to your typing, darlin’.”

Mai picked up a pencil. Teddy saw that her hands were shaking. He swore under his breath. Scenes like this were becoming more frequent. Billy Madden was a bastard and always had been, but he was getting worse. Bothering women. Losing his temper. Starting fights for no good reason. He’d bashed a lad’s skull in a month ago at the Bark because he thought he was laughing at him. He’d got this mad, wild look in his eyes, then did for the poor sod.

“Come have a glass of whiskey with me, Billy,” Teddy said now. “You and John, both. Afterward, I’ll fix you up with a girl who’s worth your while. Two girls, if you like. From Shanghai. They’ll have you begging for mercy. Come on, come inside now, I’ve got things I need to discuss with you.”

“And I’ve got things to discuss with you, Edward,” Billy said, sitting down behind Teddy’s desk. “You were short. Two weeks in a row.” Billy’s man, John, stood behind him.

“I wasn’t short. That was twenty-five percent. Same as always. Your cut was less because I sold less. My supplies were low. Got another shipment in at Millwall as we speak. Soon as I get it, and get selling it—”

Billy cut him off. “John here is going with you to unload your tea from the
Ning Hai
tonight. Him and three more of my men.”

“Tonight? Why tonight? It’s supposed to be unloaded tomorrow afternoon,” Teddy asked.

“Because the next high tide’s at two
A.M.
,” John Harris said.

“And because I don’t want you offloading any of the cargo before tomorrow,” Billy said, picking his nails with Teddy’s letter opener. “John and the others are going to get it, bring it here to the warehouse, open it, and see just how much hop you’re bringing in. So I can figure out myself what you should be paying me.”

“You think I’m cheating you out of your cut,” Teddy said.

The anger Billy had kindled in Teddy flamed into a hot fury. Billy was the guv’nor, yes, but even so, he was taking a few too many liberties. Accusing him, Teddy, of cheating him out of money, the cheek of it. Teddy
was
cheating him, of course, but still—he shouldn’t just come in here, rough up his help, and make Teddy look small on his own turf.

“I’m just keeping my eye on things, that’s all,” Billy said.

“Is that so? Well, you know what, Billy? You might want to start keeping both eyes on things,” Teddy said hotly

Billy leaned forward. “Oh, aye? And just what do you mean by that?”

“Sid Malone’s back in town.”

Billy stopped picking his nails. He looked up at Teddy, and Teddy saw, to his satisfaction, that Billy had paled. Teddy knew that there was only one thing Billy hated more than another villain cheating him out of money, and that was another villain making a play for his manor—a manor they both knew used to belong to Sid.

“What did you say?”

“I said Sid Malone’s back in town.”

“Now I know where all your hop’s gone, Teddy. You’ve been smoking it yourself.”

“He was here. Right in this office. Not ten minutes ago.”

“Sid Malone was fished out of the Thames years ago. He’s dead.”

“Not anymore he isn’t.”

“Are you sure, Teddy?”

“I’m sure. I know him. I used to work for him. Remember? It was Sid Malone in my office, sure as I’m standing here.”

Billy glowered at him. Then he slammed his fists on the desk and stood up. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” he shouted.

“I wanted to!” Teddy shouted back. “But you were too busy interfering with my girl, and with my business! I even tried to keep him here until you came. Tried to stall. But he said he had to be off.”

“What the fuck was he doing here?” he said. “What did he want?”

“He wanted information on that woman’s death—Selwyn Jones. The rich one. The one who topped herself a few years back. He wanted to know if I’d sold her the drugs.”

“What? Why the hell would he want to know that?”

“I asked him. He didn’t tell me.”

“You tell him about Stiles?”

Teddy shook his head.

A man named Peter Stiles had bought quite a bit of morphine from Teddy only days before Maud Selwyn Jones died. Billy knew about it; he was the one who’d sent Stiles to Teddy. Both Billy and Teddy had wondered at the time if there was any connection between Stiles and the Selwyn Jones woman’s death.

“Why is he nosing into this?” Billy asked. “What’s this Jones woman’s suicide to him?”

“I have no idea,” Teddy said. “It makes no sense.”

Billy made no response at first, then, at length, he said, “Yes, it does. Sid Malone’s back and he wants his old manor back. He has to get me out of the way first, though, and he’s looking to see if there’s any way he can land me in the shit with Old Bill. He’s trying to do it through you. Wants to have me sent down for the Selwyn Jones woman. Do it all nice and clean-like. No violence. No blood. At least not to begin with, that is.”

Billy lit up a cigarette as he spoke, and started pacing the room. Teddy wasn’t quite sure that Billy had it right. Sid Malone certainly hadn’t acted like a man planning to launch a big turf war. But Teddy also knew that once Billy Madden got an idea into his head, there was no getting it out.

“Did you tell him anything at all?”

“I said I’d dig around, see what I could come up with. We’re supposed to meet again next month. Right here.”

“Good. Well done, Teddy lad.”

“What do you want me to do when he comes back? Give him something? Give him nothing?”

“Just keep him here, Teddy. Keep him talking.”

“You’re going to do for him,” Teddy said.

Billy Madden shook his head. His eyes had that mad look in them. The one Teddy knew all too well, and wished he didn’t.

“No,” Billy said, “I’m going to beat him bloody first. Make him tell me what he’s got on me. Who he’s working with. And then I’m going to do for him.”