they can’t do it all.”
“Are there pirates this far up the river?”
“Prob’ly not. Up by Lime’ouse an’ that way it’s opium eaters an’ them kinds o’ things. But yer never know. There’s other folks ’as ’ad a few run-ins wif ’em, ’part from me.”
“Louvain?” The moment Monk had said it, he wondered if it were wise.
The man’s face lit up with pleasure. “Clem Louvain? Yer damn right! ’e cut them up summink beautiful, ’e did! Yer never seen a better man wi’ a cutlass than Clem! They rued the day they messed wi’ ’im!” He sniffed cheerfully. “Mind, that’s a few year ago now, but it don’t make no diff’rence. Summink like that yer don’ forget. They don’ mess wif ’im still, an’ all!”
Monk measured his words carefully. “I’m surprised they don’t want revenge,” he said with a deliberate lift of curiosity.
The man grinned, showing gapped teeth. “Come up from ’ell ter ask for it, yer reckon?”
“Dead?” Monk was surprised.
“ ’Course, dead!” the man said contemptuously. “Two killed right there on the deck o’ the
“No one left to. . want payment for it?” Monk pressed.
“Not for that bleedin’ lot o’ sods.” The man upended the glass to drain the last of his beer. “Reckon as Mr. Louvain’s ’ealth were drunk right well in a few ’ouses up an’ down the river that night.” He took his mug and pushed it an inch closer to Monk without looking at him. “River’s full o’ tales,” he added.
Monk took the hint and fetched them both another pint, although he had no capacity or wish to drink any more himself. He was prepared to listen for another hour at least.
His companion settled down to picking from his memory tales of violence, failed robberies and successful ones, and eccentric characters in the last fifty years along the river.
“Most o’ ’em back then,” he said gleefully. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Monk had bought him a second pie. The color with which he painted the river life contained many warnings that might prove useful, and it gave Monk a far better understanding of the intricacies of illicit trade, of light-horsemen, heavy-horsemen, lumpers, plunderers, and crooked Revenue men. Monk heard stories, some of the legendary receivers, including the present-day Fat Man, the most famous opulent receiver along this stretch of the water.
Monk did not arrive home until after nine o’clock, by which time Hester was concerned. The dinner she had made was far past its best and barely edible.
“I’m all right!” he assured her, holding her as closely as he could until she pushed him away to search his face. “Really!” he repeated. “I was in a public house down by the docks, listening to an old sailor telling me tales.”
Her face was very serious. “Mr. Louvain came to the clinic today-”
“What?” He was incredulous. “Clement Louvain? Are you sure? What for?” It disquieted him, although he did not know why. He did not want Louvain anywhere near Hester. And even as the thought was in his mind he knew it was absurd. Hester dealt with the ugliest and most tragic elements of life every day.
“What did he want?” he demanded, taking his coat off and hanging it up.
She recounted the story of Ruth Clark and mentioned Louvain’s generous donation. She bit her lip. “We’re finding it hard to get people to give.”
He heard the anger in her voice and he understood it. “Why didn’t he take her to a hospital?”
“He would have to register her there and tell them his own name. Anyway, he might be known. He’s an important man. They would ask who she was, and they might not believe he brought her for someone else.”
He smiled, touching her cheek gently. “Did you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t care. And I won’t repeat it to anyone except you. Did you learn anything more about the ivory?”
“Not specifically, but I gained an informant.”
“Good. You’re cold. Are you hungry?”
“Not very, but I’d like some tea.”
He followed her into the kitchen, telling her about Scuff as she filled the kettle and put it on the stove, fetched milk from the pantry and set out the teapot and cups on a tray. He told her many of the things he had seen and heard, but not about Louvain and the river pirates. There was no need to waken fears in her that she could do nothing about.
She laughed at some of the descriptions: the eccentricity, the ingenuity, and the will to survive. They went to bed, tired from the work of the day and happy to be close not only in mind but in the warmth of touch.
In the morning he woke before she did. He slipped out of bed, and washed and dressed without disturbing her, not shaving in order to keep his image for the dockside. Downstairs, he riddled the stove and carried out the ashes. It was not a job he was accustomed to doing, but it was heavy, and he knew she had dismissed the woman who came to help. Louvain’s payment was generous, but it must be made to last as long as possible. He had no idea where the next reasonable sum was coming from.
He filled the kettle and set it on the hob, then went back upstairs to waken Hester and say good-bye to her. He had given a great deal of thought to how next to proceed, and only one answer pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. He needed to find the receiver. Reluctantly, he went to the drawer of his dresser and took out the gold watch Callandra had given him. He slipped it into the top pocket inside his jacket.
Ten minutes later he was out in the gray light of the October street, and half an hour after that he was back on the dockside again. The air was still, almost windless, but the damp penetrated the flesh till it felt as if it reached the bone. He huddled into his coat, turning up the collar. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets and stepped over the puddles from the night’s rain. It was a while since he had had a new pair of boots, and it might be even longer before he did again. He needed to take care of these ones.
The more he considered the ivory, the more he believed the thieves would have taken it to a specific opulent receiver capable of selling it on to the highly specialized markets that could use it. There was a limited number of such people along the river. It was not finding them which was the major issue, but proving that they still knew where the ivory was, and with each passing day his chances of success were reduced.
He started at one of the better pawnshops, taking out the gold watch and asking what they could give him for it.
“Five guineas,” was the answer.
“And if I have more?” he asked.
The pawnbroker’s eyes widened. “More like that?”
“Of course.”
“Where’d you get more like that?” Disbelief was heavy in his face.
Monk looked at him with contempt. “What do you care? Can you deal with them or not?”
“No! No, I in’t in that business. You take ’em somewhere else,” the pawnbroker said vigorously.
Monk put the watch back into his pocket and went out into the street again, walking quickly, avoiding the close walls and skirting wide around the entrances of alleyways. He thought of word spreading and his being robbed, or even killed, and it sent colder knots clenching on his stomach than even the raw air could produce. But he knew of no other way to draw the attention of a receiver. He could not afford the time to play a slow, careful game, and he had no police knowledge or help to guide him. Far from going to them, as would have been his instinct, he was obliged to avoid them, to watch for them and take another path, as if he were a thief himself. Once again he cursed Louvain for keeping him from using the regular, lawful means.
He kept his promise to Scuff, and was at the dockside at the same time and place with hot pies, tea, and fruitcake. He was absurdly disappointed to see no one there waiting for him. He stood in the clearing amid the old boxes. He could hear nothing but the lost cries of gulls above and the wail of foghorns as mist rose from the water, choking the light and muffling sound. The rising tide slapped against the pier stakes, and in the distance men shouted at each other, some of them in languages he did not understand.
A string of barges made a wash that hit the shore sharply and then died away again, swallowed in the fog.
“Scuff!” he called out.
There was no answer, no movement except a rat scuttling into a pile of refuse twenty yards off.
