Part 11 (2/2)

Dave Butcher favoured an all-out attack, guns blazing. If they hit it with enough firepower, the thing had to go down, didn't it? Stood to reason. He wanted to make an alliance with the other gangland bosses, get their support. If they were going to fight this creature, they were going to need all the men and machine guns they could get.

Norman Page thought the whole thing had been a trick, a mirage like he used to see in the desert during the war. They were all having some sort of ma.s.s hysteria, where they thought they saw this creature. But it couldn't have been real, could it?

Just nonsense. It was all a trick, probably by a rival gang. Yeah, that was it, a trick.

Brick said nothing, keeping his own counsel and tending to the coal fire warming the room. He hadn't seen what happened and found the other men's descriptions of events hard to grasp.

But they all seemed to believe themselves, except the sceptical Page. Something strange had taken place. Whatever Tommy decided to do, Brick would go along with it. He always did.

Tommy listened to them all while staring at the severed limb on the dining table. It had stopped twitching but he still found the pointed finger disturbing. Stranger still, the arm had never bled. After being sliced from Callum's body, the severed end just seemed to seal itself like it was waiting for something. Or somebody, Tommy thought with a shudder.

Just as he was about to speak, a sour-faced Sarah entered carrying a tray laden with cups of tea. She went round the table, slamming the tea down in front of each man. She left Tommy's until last, then stood to one side, waiting for his reaction. 'Ta very much,' he said, smiling at her.

'Don't thank me, thank your mother she made the tea,'

Sarah replied. Tommy expected her to leave but she stood her ground, obviously determined to stay. So be it. He stood up to address the men.

'I listened to what you've all had to say. Everybody's had something useful to offer except Page, of course, but he always talks out his a.r.s.e.'

The other men all laughed at that. Page was infamous in the Ramsey Mob for his contrary opinions and unfeasible notions.

But he also ran the best robbery crew in London and was one of Tommy's best earners. That gave him merit and the respect of the other lieutenants.

'I agree that we probably can't beat this thing on our own.

For that, we're going to need help from outside. So I'm going to summon some of the other gang leaders from the East End to a Council of War. Jack, when we're done here, I want you on the blower, calling round. It'll be better coming from you. Meeting's at midday, here.'

Jack nodded his agreement. Tommy walked slowly round the table, giving each man their task for the next few hours. 'Billy, I want the word spread on the street. Anybody who knows anything is to come to us first. Don't matter how trivial, I want to know about anything out the ordinary people have noticed.

There'll be a generous reward for information.'

'How generous?' Valance asked.

'Never you mind!' Tommy snarled. 'Dave, I want you to send the girls on holiday we're closing down the cat houses till this is over. We need every man we've got, we can't afford to be caught short.'

'Done. Where should I send the girls?'

'Use your initiative. Do I have to think of everything meself?

Last but not least, Norman shooters. We need to be well and truly tooled up. We got no idea what this monster is going to throw at us, so better safe than sorry. Lay your hands on every weapon you can.'

'Got it, boss.'

Sarah could stay silent no longer. 'What about the police?

Why don't you tell the police what's happened? They could call out the army. .' Her voice trailed away as she realised everyone was staring at her. 'What?'

Tommy gave voice to what all the others were thinking. 'For a start, we look after our own. We don't need the old bill sniffing around here. Second, do you really think they'd believe us? We ain't got any proof. All the bodies disappeared after that thing blasted them. The plods would just lock me in a nut hatch if I came forward with a yarn like that.'

'What about the arm?' Sarah asked, pointing at the severed limb. 'That's proof. You could give it to the police.'

Sergeant Diggle parked the patrol car outside the police station.

It had taken him nearly an hour to drive less than a mile back from Whitecross Street. The fog was closing in with alarming ferocity. Twice the policeman had needed to swerve onto the footpath to avoid a collision with vehicles that had strayed across the centre line. It was a great relief when he caught sight of the s.h.i.+ning blue lamps outside the station.

Once inside he went straight to the canteen and demanded a mug of hot, sweet tea. He returned to the front desk and added a generous nip of whisky from a hip flask hidden in a drawer.

Purely for medicinal purposes, he told himself to ward off the biting cold outside.

He was swirling the last dregs of his tea around in the bottom of the cup when Hodge appeared at the desk. 'Well, how are you feeling now son?' Diggle asked. The constable smiled at him. 'Much better, sir. You were right, I must have b.u.mped my head before. It's funny, what I said happened earlier it hardly seems real now. Do you find anything outside the church?'

Hodge asked.

Diggle shook his head. 'I did talk to the parish priest. He told me some fantastic story about a fallen angel purging the world of its sins. I'd rather he purged us of that flamin' fog outside, it's a menace!'

The constable's face darkened at the mention of a fallen angel, but Hodge quickly resumed smiling. 'I know what you mean, sir. We've had three car crashes reported in the last hour.

I'm not looking forward to patrolling tomorrow if it's still like this.'

Tommy s.n.a.t.c.hed the severed limb up from the table. 'All this shows is that I cut somebody's arm off. I give this to the police and it might get me another stretch in Wandsworth, but it don't prove anything that's happened, does it?'

Sarah was not giving up that easily. 'But you could '

Before she could finish her sentence, the severed limb began twitching again. The fingers flexed and strained. Tommy looked at it in amazement. 'What the h.e.l.l?'

The severed arm twisted in Tommy's grasp and then launched itself at his throat. The fingers clenched the gangster's neck in a choke hold, trying to throttle him. Tommy pulled at the disembodied limb while gasping for breath.

'Get it off me!'

Brick ran to Tommy and pulled at the arm. With a supreme effort he pulled it off his boss and threw the limb into the blazing fireplace. The arm scuttled around in the flames, ready to launch itself again. But then the fire caught hold of the sleeve still encasing the limb, which burst into flames. The dining room was filled with a screaming noise as the flesh burned. Within moments it had seared away to nothing, leaving just the last sc.r.a.ps of cloth.

Tommy stood staring at the fireplace, one hand rubbing his neck. Angry red finger marks were already beginning to form beneath the skin. 'Thanks, Brick. I owe you one,' the gangster said, his voice reduced to a rasp. He looked at the others. 'Fat lot of use you all were.'

Jack and the lieutenants sank back into their chairs. 'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it,' Butcher muttered.

'Exactly,' Tommy agreed. He approached Sarah and placed a hand on her shoulder. 'That's why we can't go to the police.

They'd never believe it.' Tommy clapped his hands, snapping everybody back to reality. 'Enough of this sitting about. You've got your jobs get to them!'

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