Part 3 (1/2)

Tommy pushed his chair back from the dining table and stood up. 'One look at you has put me right off the lovely dinner me Mum cooked. The state of you! I'm amazed you've still got a job with the old bill.'

Bob Valentine swayed on his feet, staring at the maroon carpet on the floor. He was still a detective in rank, if not demeanour. Years ago he had been considered a rising star in the London police force. Now he was an alcohol-sodden joke, the punchline to a dozen jokes about cops gone wrong. Gambling had been his downfall. The first time he went to a dog track the young copper had won three weeks' wages in a single night. The thrill of betting, the sickening danger and the unbelievable high of winning proved far too addictive for Bob Valentine. One way or another, he'd been going to the dogs ever since.

When his gambling debts got out of control, one of the bookie's minders had approached him. His slate would be wiped clean in exchange for a little inside information. His conscience had troubled him for days, but his mouth had answered instantly. He would do it, he would trade his honesty for relief from the burden of debt and threat of a beating. Bob Valentine made a terrible discovery that day, far worse than realising he was addicted to gambling. He was a coward and everybody knew it.

For the past five years he had been in Tommy Ramsey's pocket, a bent copper swapping police canteen gossip for favours. His self-respect was long gone, his health was failing fast thanks to drink and cigarettes, and his career was in tatters.

It was only a matter of time before he lost his job or his life. It was only his fear that stopped Bob Valentine topping himself.

He was terrified of death, a coward to the end.

Tommy picked up his cup of tea and threw it in the detective's face. The pain caused by the hot liquid jolted the policeman back to life. He wiped the tea from his eyes and strained to focus on Tommy's face.

'Mr Ramsey! You're out! That's good news,' he slurred.

Valentine reached into his pocket and pulled out a hip flask of whisky. Tommy grabbed it from his hand and the detective burst into tears, sobbing pathetically.

'You're a mess. I've seen prettier sights at the bottom of a budgie cage.'

Valentine tried to pull himself together. 'You owe me, Tommy.'

The gangland boss raised an eyebrow. 'How'd you figure that?'

'I got those witnesses n.o.bbled at your trial. I even got you the home addresses of the jurors. You'd have been hung if it wasn't for me.'

Tommy leaned into Valentine's face. 'How come I still got sent down for six months, eh? Answer me that!'

Valentine shrugged. 'But you still owe me for the rest,' he insisted.

'Yeah, yeah.' Tommy's eyes lit up. 'Tell you what I'll clean your slate in return for some information. Tell me about this new gang round Old Street.'

Valentine sagged, his face ashen. 'They're bad Tommy vicious. I think most of them are just boys really but the leader...His name's Callum, can't be more than twenty. He seems to love hurting people, it's like he enjoys it. Sick, that's what the boys down the station are calling him. He's the key to the whole gang. Take him away and I think the rest would fold up.'

Tommy handed Valentine back the hip flask. The detective drank gratefully from it, like a baby sucking at its mother's breast. 'Anything else you can tell me?' Tommy asked.

'Only that they hang round near the public baths behind St Luke's. I think they sleep in one of the bombed-out houses nearby.' Valentine dared to look Tommy in the face. 'Did I do good, Tommy?'

'You did great.' Tommy folded a fifty-pound note into the top pocket of the detective's suit, then rammed a knee upwards into Valentine's groin. The detective collapsed in a heap on the floor. 'Just don't ever call me Tommy again. It's Mr Ramsey to you. Get up!'

Valentine was still writhing on the rug in agony. 'I said get up!' Tommy demanded. The detective slowly, painfully got back to his feet.

'Now, you hear anything else anything about this gang, I want to know about it first. You got that?'

Valentine nodded, the colour returning to his cheeks.

Tommy gently slapped the policeman on the side of his face twice. 'Now get out of here, I got business to attend to.'

Valentine smiled and backed out of the room, almost bowing as he left the presence of Tommy Ramsey. The gangland boss shook his head sadly once Valentine had gone. 'He used to be a good little copper. Now look at him. You learn a lesson from that, Jack gambling is a mug's game.'

Jack nodded. He was always on the receiving end of Tommy's little homilies but he paid them no mind. 'What's next?'

'Me dinner's probably ruined by now. I'll come downstairs and talk to the lads. There's a few things that need sorting out.'

Sarah arrived at the boarding house. It was run by Mrs Kelly, a friendly Irish woman with a lecherous husband. Like most of the homes in the surrounding streets, it was a humble dwelling split over several floors. Sarah had taken lodgings here soon after arriving in 1952. It was essential to establis.h.i.+ng her new ident.i.ty in this time and place that she have a home somewhere other than the TARDIS.

For a small sum Sarah had a room of her own with a single bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. If she wanted to wash, there was a tin bath that could be laboriously filled with water heated on the stove. The bath was put by the coal fire in the front room and all other guests were banned from entering. That didn't seem to stop Mr Kelly from accidentally wandering into the room by mistake while she was bathing. Sarah decided to take her ablutions in the TARDIS after that incident, even if her apparent lack of cleanliness did raise eyebrows amongst the other boarders.

The toilet was an outhouse off the narrow courtyard behind the house, or a chamberpot beneath her bed at night. Sarah had been shocked to find that modern conveniences like indoor plumbing were still rare luxuries in inner city areas. What she wouldn't give for central heating and an en suite bathroom!

Sarah stepped into the house and hung her coat on one of the hooks in the doorway. Mrs Kelly came out to see her. 'Will you be wanting a bath tonight, Miss Smith?' she asked politely.

Sarah could see Mr Kelly lurking in the front room hopefully. 'No thanks, Rose. I'll just be going straight to bed. I'm bushed.'

'Oh, alright then.'

Sarah made her way up three creaking flights of stairs to her room. Once inside, she made a great show of turning on the light and closing the curtains on the window that looked out on to the street. She then undressed near the window, making sure her silhouette fell on the curtain, before turning out the light.

Sarah waited another five minutes before sneaking a look through the gap in the curtains at the street below. The black Bentley was just pulling away. It seemed her performance had convinced Tommy's bodyguard that she had indeed gone to bed for the night.

Sarah slipped into a warm dress and pulled on some more sensible shoes before venturing out of her room. She slowly descended the stairs, counting steps and carefully avoiding those that creaked loudest. She paused by the front door to get her coat. Mrs Kelly was talking loudly, trying to be heard over the radio which her husband preferred for company.

'I don't know when that young lady plans to bathe next. It's shocking.'

'Maybe she goes to the public baths,' Mr Kelly replied wearily.

Sarah opened the front door, stepped out and closed it carefully behind her.

Tommy Ramsey was meeting with his key men. The Ramsey Mob was more than fifty strong, but most of those were only a.s.sociates. The inner circle was just seven: Tommy himself, Jack and five lieutenants Jim Harris, Dave Butcher, Mike Gilmore, Norman Page and Billy Valance. Each lieutenant was responsible for different areas of the Ramsey Mob's empire. Harris covered race meetings for horses and dogs, Butcher managed the brothels, Gilmore was responsible for illegal gambling clubs, Page looked after robberies and theft, while Valance was in charge of the protection rackets. Each lieutenant could call on up to a dozen men at any time to support their actions.

That night seven men sat round the long table where Tommy liked to hold his business meetings. Normally Brick stood near Tommy, in case the boss had any orders which required urgent attention. But Valance was conspicuous by his absence, so Brick had taken the empty seat. The other chairs were occupied by Tommy, Jack and the other lieutenants.

'Right, we can't wait for Billy any longer let's get down to it,' Tommy announced, calling the meeting to order. The gathering fell silent as their leader prepared his thoughts.

'It's good to be back. I don't mind the occasional holiday but six months in Wandsworth was a bit too long, even for my liking!' Everyone laughed heartily. Tommy seemed to be in a good mood and that helped them all to relax. 'Jack's given me a brief report but I'd like each of you to say what's been happening in my absence.'

The four lieutenants present outlined the events of the past six months. Takings had been sharply down in recent times, especially since the evangelical crusading of Father Xavier started to hurt the businesses. The new gang was another factor but Jim Harris was confident of infiltrating its ranks within days. 'I've seen them around and they look like a bunch of kids to me.

Upstarts who need to get wrists slapped,' he said.