Page 112 of Where the Heart Leads
The message couldn’t have been plainer; if he didn’t clear his debt as promised, he’d be ruined. And the depth, breadth, and completeness of that ruin had now assumed epic proportions.
Under the tree, Smythe shifted, drawing his attention. “Like I said, I’ve two of the boys with me—or rather I’ve left them locked up tight. As it happens, they’re the best two by far, even though they’re the ones Grimsby had for the least time. They’re nimble and quick, and I can keep them in line well enough. I’ll need to teach them more—much more if we want to use them to do your jobs—because now we’ll need to get them clean away every time.”
Their original plan had involved leaving the boy used for each house inside the house once he’d passed out the lifted item; the boy would have orders to wait for an hour before attempting to leave—usually the most dangerous stage and the one where the boys were most likely to be caught—but by then Smythe, Alert, and the liberated items would be long gone.
Alert grimaced; Smythe had explained his procedures well enough for him to understand that with only two boys they couldn’t afford to lose them. He grunted. “I suppose, with only two, if you lose one, the other—seeing his own fate demonstrated—would run away rather than keep working.”
“Precisely. The boys need to be clever or they’re no use to me, but if they are…” Smythe shrugged. “These two are clever, but at heart they’re still East End boys. They’ll do what I tell them, as long as they feel safe enough.”
Alert paced. “How long will you need to train them well enough to use?”
“Now I’ve only got the two to concentrate on…four days.”
“Once they’re fully trained, will you be able to do the eight houses all on one night, as we’d planned?”
“No. No chance. Even four in one night is pushing it with only two boys. They get tired, they make mistakes, and you lose all your work.”
Alert thought it over, balancing Smythe’s concerns against his own knowledge of how the police would react once they learned of the burglaries. Any of the burglaries, the thefts he’d planned.
Drawing in a huge breath, he stopped pacing and faced Smythe. “Two nights. We can’t stretch it over more. Four houses on each of two nights. We can order the houses so the more difficult are at the end of the list. That way your boys can grow more experienced with the easier houses before having to face the more demanding—we’re less likely to lose them that way, and if we do, it’ll be toward the end of our game.”
Smythe considered, weighing the pros and cons—the most weighty being that he wanted to do the jobs—then nodded. “All right. We’ll do the eight over two nights.”
“Good.” Alert paused, then said, “We’ll meet here, three nights from now. Until then, keep yourself and those boys out of sight.”
An entirely unnecessary reminder; Smythe suppressed his instinctive reaction and evenly said, “That might not work, depending on when you want to do the jobs.” When Alert frowned, he continued, “I told you before—I need at least three days to study the houses. Given we’re doing so many, even if they’re in the same area, I’d prefer longer, but if I have to I’ll do the scouting in three days. But I won’t go in unless I’ve had at least that long.”
Alert hesitated, then his hand went to his pocket. Smythe stilled, but it was only a piece of paper Alert pulled out.
He looked at it, then held it out. “These are the houses, but the families are still in residence. Once they leave, and we’re ready to do the job, I’ll give you the list of the items we need to lift from each house, as well as details of where in each house the item to be lifted is located.”
Taking the list, Smythe glanced at it, but it was too dark to make out the words. Folding it, he put it in his pocket. “Still just the one item from each house?”
“Yes.” Alert’s gaze sharpened on his face. “As I explained at the outset, with these particular items, one from each house is all we need. You’ll be rich beyond your wildest imaginings with just one—eight items all told. And”—his voice lowered, becoming more steely, more threatening—“there are reasons why, in these instances, only that one item must be taken. To indiscriminately filch anything else will risk…the entire game.”
Smythe shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’ll check out these houses and train the boys—then once the coast is clear, just give me your list of items and we’ll do the deed.”
Alert studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good. I’ll see you here three nights from now.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the cemetery.
Smythe remained under the tree and watched until Alert disappeared among the monuments. Smiling to himself, Smythe set off in a different direction.
He patted his pocket, reassured by the crackle of paper inside. He’d been waiting to get something on Alert—something that would identify the man; he didn’t like doing business with people he didn’t know, especially when they were toffs. When things went wrong, toffs had a habit of pointing at the lower orders and claiming complete innocence. Not that Smythe expected to be caught, but having a little something up his sleeve to either ensure Alert’s silence, or alternatively to trade if things got sticky, was always reassuring.
Now he had the list of houses—houses Alert knew contained a very valuable item, and more, that he knew well enough to describe that item and where it was located in detail.
“And how would you know that, my fine gentleman?” Grinning, Smythe answered the question. “Because you’re a regular visitor to every one of those houses.”
Eight houses. If he ever needed to identify Alert, a list of eight houses with which the man was intimately familiar would, Smythe felt sure, do the trick.
18
Investigations are often like pulling teeth.” Barnaby reached for another crumpet from the tray before Griselda’s parlor fire. “Painful and slow.”
Munching on her own crumpet, Penelope swallowed, then humphed. “A slow torture, you mean.”
Barnaby grimaced, but didn’t deny it.
