does, which I doubt. You may think you have Limehouse sewn up, but it’s still a big world out there.”
“I’ve got associates in China,” Barker said, “who will safely get it back to the place from whence it came.”
“That’s as may be, but you still have to get it there. I seriously doubt it’s gonna be easy even to get it outta London Town.”
“What have you heard?”
“Enough. There’s a book. Dunno what it’s about or what it looks like, but someone’s willin’ to kill people in order to lay hands on it. The Chinese government wants it, the Foreign Office wants it. Scotland Yard wants it, and Mr. K’ing wants it. I find that all rather interesting, as a businessman, you understand. Rumor says half a dozen people have been killed over it. Why, there’s only twenty or thirty people murdered in all of London in a year. That’s a powerful lot of killing to find one book.”
“And how are you involved?”
“I’m involved, Push, because it’s my territory. My new territory. You see, I’ve begun expanding on the north side of the river.”
“You’re a Surrey man from the south side,” Barker said. “Mr. K’ing will not like it.”
“K’ing doesn’t worry me. He’s all mirrors and smoke. Got himself a reputation among the Blue Funnel crowd and a good racket goin’, everyone tithin’ reg’lar to him like he was some kinda church, but it’s a good thing I’m a charitable man, else it would be a rough time for heathen foreigners dockside. All of them, if you get my meaning.”
“Speaking hypothetically, how many men could you lay hands on for such an action?” Barker asked.
“The Chinks ain’t exactly made themselves welcome here. I could get upwards of two hundred in a day, three if I’m willing to extend myself. Got friends in Liverpool and Manchester, I do.”
“But no plans.”
“None yet,” the gang leader said, dumping an inch of ash in the ashtray on Barker’s desk. “Not until I talked to you.”
“So what is the proposition?”
“I want to broker a deal. I’ll go to K’ing and say you’re willing to hand over the book, if the Chinese government chokes up enough of the ready to suit us. Who knows? K’ing might even put forth the money himself and hope for compensation from the empress later. Then he can go back to Peking and live like a lord the rest of his life.”
“Leaving Limehouse to be looked after by you and your associates.”
Hooligan grinned. One of his teeth was gold. “The people there’ll need protection, of course, and they’re already used to payin’ for it. It would be a pity to just waste it. It’s the law of supply and demand.”
“You’ve thought this out well,” Barker stated, his fingers tented in front of him.
“Well, I ain’t had me much book learnin’, but I got smarts. Got to survive in the streets.”
“So, Mr. Hooligan, what is to keep me from merely going and brokering the deal with K’ing myself and cutting you out entirely?”
“Glad you asked, and, by the way, this is information I am givin’ you for free, which you may not live to hear again, so pay attention. Word is that old K’ing is layin’ for you. Don’t know what it is you done to set him off, but set off he is. He’s been spendin’ money like water preparing for the New Year’s festival next week, but some of my informants tell me it ain’t goin’ to be the usual entertainment.”
“Talent?” Barker asked, with one of his cold smiles.
“Circus freak show, if you ask me.”
“I see. Thank you for the tip.”
“Now what about my proposition?”
“I’m sorry. I shall have to decline.”
Hooligan knocked off his cigar ash again. “Shoulda expected it. You know you won’t get penny on the pound if you give it to the government, nor none of the credit, neither.”
“I realize that.”
Hooligan turned his head toward his subordinate who stood by the window acting as lookout. “Hey, Benny, what’s that word that means you do things for the public good and not for money?”
“Altruistic.”
“That’s the word. You are altruistic, Push, and as a citizen of metropolitan London, I’m glad you’re looking out for my welfare. But you got no head for business. When you’ve failed and gone, I’ll have to buy these offices and turn them into something useful like a public house or a gin shop.”
“I’ve no doubt you shall turn a profit,” the Guv stated. “I thank you for the tip and hope you are not offended at my declining your offer.”
“You know old Patrick Hooligan. Always has another card up his sleeve. I owe you a bit o’ thanks anyway.”
“How so?”
“For involving old Bainy. Now that he’s dead, the Reach is wide open. All the boundaries is gone, and that Scotland Yard prig-what’s his name?”
“Do you mean Inspector Poole?”
“That’s the man. Poole is too busy trying to find the killer to mind the store. There’s enough smash and grab goin’ on to make K’ing and me both rich men. But with Bainy gone, it’s a cinch one of us is eventually going to get greedy, and devil take the hindmost, if you get my meaning.”
“I see.”
“Look, if you change yer mind, just stop by the Elephant and Castle of an evening. One o’ my boys’ll be there. C’mon, lads, I’m parched. Let’s go over to the Sun for a whiskey.”
“Thank you again for the warning,” Barker said as the man rose from his chair.
“Anything for a white man,” Hooligan said. “It’s us or them, or to put it more plainly, it’s us, period.”
They clicked and scraped their way out. Jenkins came in from the outer room while Barker dumped the contents of his ashtray into the dustbin under his desk for the second time in an hour.
“Look at the state of this floor,” Jenkins complained.
“Interesting fellow,” I remarked, as I slid the pistol back into my drawer.
“Indeed.”
“What was that he meant about the Elephant and Castle?”
“It is his base of operations.”
“It’s practically on our doorstep,” I pointed out.
“Aye, it is.”
“You know the thought occurs to me that he might have shot Bainbridge himself, and we’re blaming someone for his death who left London months ago. It’s awfully convenient. He could also have come from the Elephant and Castle and tried to burgle our house.”
Barker nodded. “Very devious, lad,” he said, leaning over and holstering the gun under his chair. “Let us leave before we are interrupted again. Have you got that address in Millwall?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you are free to go. It is your half day, after all. I shall pay a visit to Chambers’s widow.”
Barker always knows how to twist the knife. “I’ve got nothing going on, sir. May I join you?”
“As you wish.”
The widow Chambers lived in a row of brick houses on Mellish Street where every house was identical to the next. If we hadn’t had the exact address, we would never have found her.
“Mrs. Chambers?”
The door had opened and Mrs. Chambers was holding a wiggling infant in a blanket, while behind her, several dirty-faced children were sticking their heads around for a peek at the visitors and talking to each other.
“Mrs. Chambers as was,” she said. “It’s Mrs. Lynn now. Who wants to know?” The woman turned around abruptly and bawled behind her. “Will you shut up back there? Can’t you see I’m a-talkin’ ter gentlemen?”
“We are private enquiry agents, madam,” Barker said, “investigating several murders that may have been related. One of them was your late husband.”
“But he weren’t kilt,” she insisted, wiping a strand of hair out of her eye and hefting the child higher with her
