from my pocket and gave it to him.
“What do we do?” hissed Midge.
“Nothing. We’ll never find him in this rat run. Forget him. This is a good haul.
Tie them up and bring them over to the door. We’ll sit it out till Tommy gets here in the morning.”
“What about the bint?” asked Stan.
“I’ll go get her and bring her up here. We’ll leave the other one where he is.
He’s not going anywhere.”
Shortly we had the three of them trussed up and moaning gently by the doorway. I reached out, grabbed the rope and slid down to the barge. I checked the man we’d left; he was well held. And awake; he glowered at me over his gag. I glanced over and saw Eve watching me. I walked over and gave her my hands. She clambered up swiftly and neatly. I held the rope and watched in admiration as she hauled herself up to the door. All that swimming must have developed her arms. One of the boys pulled her in and I followed. I found her shaking her hair loose and being admired by the boys who were preening in front of their prisoners.
“Get your fucking hands up!”
We whirled and stared into the dark chamber. The missing man was standing not ten feet away. He was a skinny little guy but he was holding a big fat gun.
Slowly we did as he asked. I noticed Eve slipping back behind me so that I would shield her from the gunman. Smart girl.
He came towards us. I recognised the huge set of teeth in the little face. Sid the foreman. It figured.
“Now get over there, you bastards! Away from them.” He waved his gun towards the doorway. We shuffled until he had us set up with our backs to the river. Eve was cowering behind me, holding on to my jacket at the back. His mates lay between us and him. They were stirring and ready to be freed. I felt a complete fool. I also felt vulnerable standing so close to the lip of the doorway.
Sid bent down and pulled the gags off the three men.
“Thank Christ, Sid!” said one of them. “Don’t just stand there. Finish the fucking job. Shoot the fuckers.”
Sid stood up, and looked at us. A grin came over his weasel face.
“I seen you in the yard. You’se fucking coppers?”
I shook my head, wondering about stepping back and jumping. But Eve was between me and the exit. I hoped one of the others would make the jump. Better to risk a broken leg than a shot in the belly.
“Well, that’s all right then. You ain’t gonna be missed.”
“Shut the fuck up talking, Sid. Shoot!”
Sid raised his gun and took aim at my chest. He could hardly miss from six feet away. I braced myself. I suppose I shut my eyes. A gun went off and I heard a scream. It wasn’t me. Sid was writhing on the ground, clutching his shoulder.
Eve’s right arm stuck out under mine. Smoke was clearing from the little gun in her hand. I didn’t waste any more time thinking. I dashed forward and kicked the gun away from Sid. He was squealing in pain like a skelped pup. I retrieved his gun and walked back to Eve, now the centre of attention and congratulatory hugs by my lads. She wasn’t looking joyous. Her face was strained and tight, like a kid who knows she’s done wrong but won’t admit it.
“I said no guns.”
“Not to me you didn’t,” she said fiercely.
“I didn’t expect you to need the warning.”
Midge butted in. “Fuck’s sake, Danny. She saved our skins.”
I sighed and nodded. “You’re right. Eve, thanks. Thanks a million. Now I suggest you use that journalist imagination to think up a good story for the boys in blue tomorrow.” She looked at me warily. I smiled and stepped forward and put my arms round her. My turn to hug. Through her thick worker’s clothing, her curves pressed against me. She felt good in my arms.
“Thanks. I mean it. You were amazing. You all right?”
She looked up and nodded, and this time she smiled and I could feel the tension leave her and the shakes begin. I gently prised the gun from her. It was a toy, a Beretta 0.25. I’d ask later where she got it and how she learned to use it.
“Let’s get Sidney here as comfortable as we can. It won’t be serious. It was only a pea-shooter.” I held up the gun. The boys laughed and bent to work. When we were done, we settled down for what was left of the night. That’s how Tommy Chandler found us come daylight.
SEVEN
Tommy almost wept when he found what had happened – whether in gratitude to us or anger at being betrayed by his foreman was hard to tell. We only just managed to stop him from kicking the lot of them into the river, still tied. And Tommy would have added a couple of bricks to help them on their way to hell.
It took half a pack of Craven A to calm him down. I asked him to get some of his boys up to mind the prisoners, and pointed to the remaining one down on the barge. I wanted my men well away from the scene when the rozzers got here. Same with Eve. I especially didn’t want her having to explain what she was doing with a gun and why she was so handy with it.
Tommy was so grateful he would have agreed to lying to the police on a warehouse full of bibles. There was no love lost between the East End and the law at the best of times. So an hour later, when the squad cars squealed up outside, Tommy and I were alone, ready with a slightly tailored version of the facts.
“You say you were the night watchman, Mr McRae?” the inspector was asking. We were in Tommy’s office and Inspector Austen was tugging at his thick bottom lip.
A sure sign that he was weaned too early. I imagined him in private having a really good suck of that thumb.
“Temporary watchman, inspector. Mr Chandler asked me to help him stop the thieving. I’m a private detective – Finders Keepers.”
He didn’t like that. They don’t. Private dicks are seen by the boys in blue as only one shade lighter than the crooks themselves. I think it’s professional jealousy.
“And the gun? This is your gun?” Now he was mauling his mouth, trying to rub out his lips. No wonder his hair was thin and his skin so pale; this man needed a holiday, or a new job.
I looked at Eve’s Beretta lying between us. “That’s mine all right. I have a licence.” That was a risk; I was guessing they wouldn’t check it out. Why would they? “You don’t have a licence to go round shooting people.”
“Self-defence. Look at what he had.” I pointed at the other weapon lying on the table. It was a.45, and looked like a Bazooka alongside mine.
“Where do you think you are? The Wild West? Beat him to the draw, did you?”
Just then I saw some commotion outside through the glass panels of Tommy’s office. The sound carried through. Inspector Austen looked pissed off, as though his brilliant interrogation had been on the point of forcing an unwitting confession out of me. He got up and went to the door. He opened it and shouted out.
“What’s going on? I’m in the middle of taking a statement here.”
Then I saw her. Eve was standing in the middle of the warehouse in her normal clothes – beret, belted coat and shoulder bag – arguing with a policeman and scribbling in her little black notepad. The constable was clearly past the point of being civil. His face was red and his collar looked two sizes too small as he ran his finger round it, trying to let blood through to his small brain. Eve saw the inspector and her face lit up as she strode towards him.
I heard a soft “Oh Christ” from him.
From her: “Inspector Austen! I should have known you would be the one to nab these crooks! I’d like a few words for my readers.”
Apart from a hectic flush on both cheeks which accentuated the dark pools below her eyes, Eve was the innocent but far from retiring professional reporter. She saw Tommy and me, but there was no recognition for either of us. Tommy reached for his fags, then realised he had one hanging from his lip.
