Fitch reached in his other pocket, took out another roll of twenties. He gave it to Mugger, who counted it carefully. While he was doing this Fitch replaced the lid over the chute. He wouldn't send Mugger down to the pearly depths. He could use him, he'd finally decided.
'What job?' Mugger demanded aggressively.
'To put away – permanently – a woman and a man. Use any method you like but they must both disappear.'
'For two thou? You must be jokin', mucker. For five thou I'd consider it.'
'Four
'I said five!' Mugger roared.
'OK,' Fitch agreed, after a long pause. 'Five.'
'So who are the bodies?' Mugger asked.
'A man and a woman.'
'I could have fun with the woman before we finish them…'
'No!' Fitch shouted.
He leapt forward, grabbed Mugger round the throat with both his strong hands, pushed him over backwards, fell on top of him, his hands still round the neck. Mugger was stunned. He'd not realized before how strong Fitch was. 'NO!' Fitch yelled again. 'This has to be a quick job. You can get up now.'
Fitch jumped to his feet. Mugger climbed upright more slowly. His hands were soothing his neck. He was scared now. Fitch realized this and set about making him forget what he'd done.
'Five thousand nicker,' Fitch repeated. 'How long would it take for you to earn that drug dealing?'
'A little while,' Mugger admitted. 'I only deal in small packets. Then if I'm stopped by the river patrol they'd never find it even if they turned the barge upside down.' He regained his toughness. 'Name of these parties?'
'Tweed and Paula Grey. I'll be with you when we grab them. Take them in the back of my car – no, the boot.'
'Then dump them in the river? We'll need heavy chains.'
'No we won't.' Fitch grinned sadistically. 'Chloroform first to knock them out, then a trip to the burner.'
'The burner?'
'I have a pal further east who operates a metal foundry -with a huge furnace. He clears out of the place for a consideration. He'll think I'm getting rid of dud banknotes.'
'I'm still not sure I know…'
'Stupid! We take the bodies and shove them into the furnace. You can watch them burn. Only takes a minute. OK?'
'I guess so.'
17
Marler was 'prowling'. He had returned to Covent Garden, and was standing on the opposite side of the street to the building where he had seen the small woman with Paula say goodbye and then enter her flat.
Earlier he had witnessed Newman's fiasco in his attempt to get on with Coral, had seen him emerge and wave both hands in frustration. Then Paula had entered Popsies. Strolling past he had seen the back of Paula's head as she had talked to the woman.
Marler was shrewd. He'd realized this must be Pete Nield's secret informant. He was always suspicious of informants, mistrusting half his own sources. He now stood, watching the door to the flat, on the street under a striped blind projecting from a bar entrance. In his hand he held a mug of coffee. He sipped it occasionally. It gave him a reason for hanging about.
It was dark when a tall woman, good figure, brown hair neatly coiffeured, well dressed in a silk frock and expensive shoes, pressed the bell to the flat. Marler perched the coffee on a nearby ledge, took out a miniature camera which was non-flash, pressed a button for bad light since by now it was dark.
Paula's friend from Popsies appeared, smiled, shook hands with her visitor. As the visitor turned her head Marler took three quick shots of both of them. He followed them until they went into a good restaurant. He immediately returned to the building, checked the bell he'd seen the visitor push. A small card alongside had the owner's name. C. Flenton.
Marler then continued his prowl. He hailed a cab, asked to be dropped in the East End. He got out near a pub called the Pig's Nest, not the most salubrious establishment in London. Mixing with the crowd, he was strolling towards the pub's entrance when he nearly stopped short. His instinct and his training saved him. He continued to stroll.
Marler was startled. For him the immediate reaction was rare. Its cause was hurrying towards him, then turned into the Pig's Nest. Before he did so Marler used his camera to take two shots. His target was Amos Fitch, the man Newman had 'dealt with'.
At Park Crescent, Newman was still out with Pete Nield. Monica thought they must really be knocking it back. Harry had left, telling Monica he was on his way to Paradise.
'Some people call it the East End,' he added as he left.
Paula went over to Tweed, leant over his desk, whispered a suggestion.
'I have info to pass on, just between us. Would your house be the best place?'
'I'm leaving now, so it would be.'
She followed him in her car, stopping several times to pick up some shopping. She arrived after dark to find two new locks on the front door. A Banham and a Chubb. Tweed appeared quickly when she'd pressed the bell three times, then twice.
Taking two of her three carrier bags he ran up the stairs. Paula followed, noting the locks closed automatically when she shut the door. Tweed was sitting at his desk, studying files when she walked in, picked up the two bags.
'You haven't eaten today,' she told him. 'I'm cooking a meal for both of us. Liver, bacon, fried egg – followed by creme brulee.'
'Appreciate that,' he said not looking up.
She went into the kitchen, closed the door. She knew where everything was. She donned an apron, set to work. He had laid the table when she returned with the meal. She frowned.
'That's my job. Come and get it while it's hot. I can tell you about my afternoon while we eat…'
Tweed ate voraciously, congratulated her on another first-class meal. He fixed his eyes on hers as he posed the question.
'You have information?'
She told him. About following Newman and Nield. Their meeting in Popsies with Coral Flenton. Newman, frustrated, driving off with Nield. Her own meeting with Coral, their conversation.
'So Coral and Viola Vander-Browne were friends, went back a long way – to their schooldays,' Tweed observed. 'A strange twist. I find it odd.'
'I found something about Coral odd, but I can't put my finger on what it was. And she emphasized how far away her desk in the next room is from the Cabal's hideaway…'
Paula stopped as the front-door bell rang three times, then twice, the signal that it was someone from Park Crescent. Ever cautious, Tweed in his shirt sleeves extracted his Walther, ran down. A large cardboard-backed envelope had been pushed through the letterbox. On the front in neat lettering was Mr Tweed, from M-r. Marler.
Taking the envelope back upstairs he sank into his favourite armchair. Paula perched on an arm. She watched his expression as he took out a batch of colour photos and hid them from her. The reaction to the first one told her nothing. He looked at two more, then at Paula as he handed her the three photos.
'Who are these women? Any idea? The smaller one is Coral Flenton – Marler has written her name on the back.'
'Glory! This is crazy,' Paula exclaimed. 'The woman who is calling on Coral is the Parrot, I'm sure. She was disguised when she came to see you but I'm sure it's her.'
'And Coral told you in Popsies she hated the Parrot. No sign of hatred there. They look the best of friends.'
'What the devil is going on?'
'Loose strands are beginning to link up. First, Coral knew poor Viola. Now she has the Parrot as a friend.'
'I'm confused,' Paula admitted.
'Well, you know I never trust anyone. Nield's informant has been playing a double game, but how?'
'I'm shaken – after what Coral told me. And I've just grasped what I thought was odd about her. While talking she kept looking down at her coffee as though she didn't want to meet my eyes.'
'There are four more colour pics Marler took. In the East End, this time. Fitch is on the loose again.'