Doctor Who_ Amorality Tale Part 2

He stopped in his tracks. Sarah took this as a good sign.

'I don't think you realise it but Morgan is playing you for a fool. You don't want to look like a fool, Mr Ramsey, do you?'

Tommy swivelled around and walked over to Sarah, his fists clenching and unclenching. 'n.o.body calls me a fool and survives to brag about it. You've got exactly one minute to explain yourself or else that pretty face of yours won't be pretty much longer.'

'Don't listen to her, Mr Ramsey, she's just a ' Morgan tried to interject.

Tommy silenced him with a gesture while keeping his gaze locked on Sarah.

'Start talking.'

The war had been over for seven years, but parts of the East End were still just bombsites. Derelict buildings that had once been homes for families now played house to vermin and weeds.

Ironmonger Row behind St Luke's had been particularly badly hit by German bombs. Only one of the original buildings was still standing, and that had been declared unsafe. But that didn't stop it being used by those without homes.

Two teenagers tended a fire in the grate of the last house on Ironmonger Row. They were brothers, both on the run from National Service. The pair had gravitated back to their native East End but couldn't go home the military police would be waiting for them. The brothers had adopted new names to disguise their ident.i.ties, calling themselves Billy and Charlie. For the past month they had been scratching a living from thieving and illegal bare knuckle boxing matches, until they met Callum.

He was like n.o.body they had known, wild and fearless.

Callum seemed to rejoice in causing mayhem and chaos. He was only of average build but his black eyes betrayed a wanton streak that terrified ordinary people. His skin was white, almost translucent, in stark contrast to his jet black hair. He had a charisma about him that made others want to follow his lead.

The two brothers soon found themselves happily joining Callum in whatever crazed enterprise entered his head.

Within weeks of appearing in the area, Callum had formed his own gang. The members were young men, between sixteen and twenty, all frustrated by a society that would not acknowledge them as adults until their twenty-first birthdays.

Their fathers and older brothers had gone to war before they were twenty-one, why should this new generation have to wait?

Callum harnessed that frustration, turning them into a formidable force on the streets. Billy and Charlie felt they had found their place at last, something they could belong to and be proud of. They were part of a gang and that meant power and strength. The brothers both liked that.

They were still tending the fire when Callum appeared at the door. 'Boys, our time is nearly upon us!' He held up his right hand. It was covered in blood.

Arthur 'Brick' Baldwin stood in the doorway of the Red Room, watching as Tommy confronted the new barmaid. Brick liked the look of her and hoped she knew what she was doing. Tommy had few qualms about using his fists on anybody, or about ordering his bodyguard to deliver the beating for him. Brick hated hitting anyone. His size turned any fight into a drubbing and he would rather die than hurt a woman, especially one as pretty as her.

Sarah swallowed hard before replying to Tommy. 'Morgan is skimming money from the Red Room's profits. That book he showed you is a fake. There's a second set of accounts hidden in a safe under his desk. The combination is seven right, twelve left, five right.'

Brick noted Tommy staring into the barmaid's eyes. She held Tommy's gaze steadily. The bodyguard thought she looked nervous, but sure of herself. She seemed to believe what she was saying.

The blood had drained from Morgan's face. 'You can't believe that. I would never, never...'

Tommy walked to the manager's office.

Tommy grabbed the desk in the office and flung it over in the air. Revealed beneath was a safe. He crouched down to twist the dial through its combination, then pulled open the door. A second ledger book was inside. He opened the pages and quickly confirmed the truth of Sarah's allegation. Tommy closed the book, stood up and strode back into the main room.

'Please, Tommy, I can explain...' Morgan whimpered.

'It's Mr Ramsey, especially to thieving sc.u.m like you,'

Tommy replied. He motioned for Sarah to follow him out of the Red Room. She hurriedly grabbed her coat. 'Brick, make sure Morgan doesn't leave, will you?'

'Yes, Tommy.' When they had gone, Brick stepped into the doorway and folded his arms across his mighty chest. The only exit had disappeared.

Once outside, Tommy looked up and down Brunswick Place while he talked to Sarah. 'Why?'

'I want to work for you. I can help you. I understand you reward loyalty well. Morgan was ripping you off so '

'So you gra.s.s on Morgan to gain my trust is that it?'

'Telling the boss the truth, no matter how painful, isn't being a gra.s.s. It's being honest.' Sarah held Tommy's gaze, trying to keep her terror hidden. What she said now could mean the difference between life and death for herself and the repulsive, reptilian Max Morgan. 'I thought you would place a value on that too.' 'How do I know you didn't set Morgan up?'

'You don't. But I didn't. He put his own head in the noose.'

Tommy lit a cigarette and sucked greedily at it. 'Never did trust him too s.h.i.+fty by half.'

'So, do I get a job?' Sarah asked.

Callum stood opposite the fire as he watched his gang. The light from the flames threw dark shadows around his face. About twenty youths were gathered in the condemned building, dividing the spoils of the day. The gang was becoming more brazen by the day as the expected retaliation never came. Why bother picking pockets when you could demand people emptied their pockets for you? Callum was always urging them to take more risks.

Now he looked down at them, a motley collection of misfits and fugitives. Callum sneered with contempt. 'This is pathetic!

Skulking in a bombed-out building, counting out coins hardly rich pickings!'

The elder of the two brothers, Charlie, spoke up for the rest of the group. 'We done good today, it's our best haul yet.'

Callum shook his head in disgust. 'It's pocket change! You have no ambition, you're too scared of your own shadows.

There's a power vacuum on the streets of London those who came back from the war are getting old, past it. This is our opportunity, a chance to take control. The streets are ours for the taking, if you only have the courage to s.n.a.t.c.h them away from the likes of Tommy Ramsey and his men.'

Billy stood beside his brother. 'Like Charlie said, we done good today. Why stir things up? Why cause trouble?'

Callum grinned, 'I like trouble. Anyway, we don't have any choice. See this?' He held up his b.l.o.o.d.y hand for all to see.

'Know how I got this? From one of our own this is what Tommy Ramsey thinks of us!'

Callum stepped out of the room. Billy and Charlie looked around the others, but n.o.body knew what their leader was talking about. Callum came back in, dragging Jamie's b.l.o.o.d.y body. Callum dumped him in the midst of the gang.

Tommy stared deep into Sarah's eyes. If she had been a man, he would have wondered whether she was an undercover policeman, trying to infiltrate the firm. But Tommy knew the old bill would never send a woman to do such a dangerous job.

Perhaps that sc.u.mbag MacMa.n.u.s was trying to plant an informant inside the Ramsey Mob? Tommy dismissed that possibility as well. There was something different about Sarah.

She could not disguise her quiet terror but there was an implacability about her that Tommy admired.

'Well?' Sarah asked impatiently.

'You've got some bra.s.sneck, I'll give you that,' Tommy replied. 'You take the rest of the day off. Come to the house tomorrow Tabernacle Street. Know where it is?'

'I'll find it,' Sarah replied. 'What about Morgan?'

'What do you care?' Tommy said.

'He's slime but he could still be useful, if he kept his hands out of the till,' Sarah suggested. 'Better to have him scared and earning than dead and buried.'

Tommy nodded his agreement. 'I'll have a word with him.

Off you go.'

Sarah put on her coat against the chill winter air and began walking towards the City Road. Tommy watched her leave before going upstairs to speak with Brick.

'You take the car and follow her home. I want to know where she lives, how long she's been there and where she comes from. Alright? I'll be having a word with our friend Morgan.'

Jamie's face was a mess of cuts and bruises. His wrists were b.l.o.o.d.y and raw from the ropes that had bound him. His clothes were torn to pieces, almost falling from his body. One of his legs was broken, the jagged bone visible through the cloth of his trousers. The other gang members moved to help Jamie but a word from Callum halted them.

'No! Just look at him for now. Look what the Ramsey Mob did to one of ours. Tommy was out of prison only a few minutes when he threw Jamie out of a moving car. This is what we are up against. This is why we can't be content just to bide our time and stay out of trouble. That's not an option anymore. Billy, you say you don't want trouble? Too late! Trouble has already arrived.

But if you're scared, well you can always leave...'

Charlie grabbed his brother to stop him attacking Callum.

Billy spat with fury at the gang's leader. 'n.o.body calls me scared!

n.o.body!'

Callum smiled. 'That's what Tommy Ramsey is doing. He's saying you're scared all of you! Little boys playing at grown-ups, pretending to be men. Is he right? Are you just little boys?'

'No!' the gang members shouted back.

'Are you just pretending?' Callum asked.

'NO!' the teenagers roared in unison.

Callum's eyes blazed with fury, the flames from the fire reflected in the blackness of his pupils. 'The Ramsey Mob struck at us today, they hurt one of ours. Tomorrow we strike back.

Tomorrow, we kill one of them.' Callum looked around his followers. They were all standing now, a group united by their burning hatred for Tommy Ramsey.

'Are you with me?' Callum asked.

'YES!'

Sarah walked for nearly a mile to reach the boarding house in Great Sutton Street. She stopped outside St Luke's to adjust her stiletto shoes, which were causing blisters on the backs of her ankles. Whoever designed these instruments of torture obviously hadn't walked any distance while wearing their own creations, Sarah decided grumpily.

She looked up at the church. It was an imposing building with the stained-gla.s.s windows lit from within. An enclosed area of gra.s.s surrounded the church on all sides, with tall wrought iron fencing at the perimeter. The building's most impressive feature was a ma.s.sive steeple at its western end, stretching up into the sky. Atop it was an obelisk with a statue. Sarah had to crane her neck backwards even to look at it. She wondered how the original builders had ever managed to get the structure so high up, with only the steeple as support. The church must have dominated the local skyline when it was first constructed. Sarah imagined it would soon be overwhelmed by the skysc.r.a.pers she knew were coming to London.

She was tempted to go inside and have a look around, but remembered that Tommy had given her the night off. Best to keep walking towards the boarding house, otherwise the burly man following her in Tommy's Bentley might become suspicious. Sarah risked a glance across the road at Fixing Time, the Doctor's watchmending shop. The lights were off inside and a closed sign was hanging on the front door. It seemed everyone was having the night off. After one last tug at her uncomfortable footwear, Sarah continued walking along Old Street. The black Bentley gently rolled after her, maintaining a respectful distance as it pa.s.sed St Luke's.

Inside the church Father Xavier was kneeling on the steps before the altar, his arms flung out sideways. He had been praying for more than an hour but he refused to stop until his supplications were answered.

'I try to do your will, but there is violence all around me. I try to bring your word to the people, but science is taking the place of faith. I try to make them see, but they are blinded by their own greed. What must I do?'

The priest waited but received no reply.

'Everything is getting out of control. I fear blood will be spilled, innocent blood on the streets, pain and hurting for the good people of this parish. Is that your will? Are you not just?

How can such acts be allowed?'

A single tear ran down Father Xavier's face from his right eye. 'Please, my saviour, tell me what I must do...'

Tommy Ramsey was just sitting down to dinner when he heard a knock downstairs at the front door. His mother emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate laden with cottage pie, cabbage and b.u.t.tered bread.

'Who could be calling at this hour? Sensible people are home having their dinner,' Mrs Ramsey said, tutting to herself. She lovingly put the plate down in front of her only child, next to a cup of steaming hot tea. 'Here you are Thomas, cottage pie your favourite. I made it special for your homecoming.'

Vera Ramsey was the only person who ever called Tommy by his given name. She had married young, after being swept off her feet by a local lad called Herbert Ramsey. He was killed during the Great War, the war to end all wars they had called it.

He never knew he was going to be a father. So Vera was left to raise Thomas on her own, bringing in money with sewing and knitting she was a dab hand with a pair of knitting needles.

Even now, Vera spent most of her spare time knitting a pullover or a scarf for one of Thomas's friends. She never remarried because she believed no man could ever stand comparison to her Bert, the war hero. Every night she prayed to Bert, hoping he was waiting for her in Heaven. One day she would be reunited with him. In the meantime, she had Thomas to look after and a house to keep. That was more than enough for any mother.

'Don't worry Mum, one of the lads will get the door,'

Tommy said. He tucked into the cottage pie, hungrily gulping down mouthfuls of the minced meat with its mashed potato topping. 'Lovely grub we didn't get dinners like this in Wandsworth, I can tell you.'

His meal was interrupted by an insistent knock at the dining room door. Tommy sighed with exasperation, put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. 'What is it? I'm trying to eat in here!'

Jack Cooper opened the door and put his head around the corner. 'Sorry Tommy, but you've got a visitor. It's Valentine.'

Tommy swore beneath his breath, just quiet enough that his Mum would not hear. She didn't approve of blasphemy or foul language, especially at home. Tommy composed his face into a smile before turning around.

'Sorry Mum, but I've got a man downstairs who's come to talk some business. Why don't you go next door and listen to the radio?'

Mrs Ramsey did not look impressed. 'I'll put your dinner back on the stove then, shall I?' She picked up the plate and took it back into the kitchen. She soon returned, pausing to pick up her knitting and kiss Tommy on the forehead. 'Don't you be talking all night. I know what you boys are like when you get going. You be sure he finishes that dinner, Jack.'

'Yes Mrs Ramsey,' Jack replied meekly from the doorway.

Satisfied, she retreated into the parlour next door, closing the door gently behind her. Tommy waited until he could hear the radio warming up and the sound of his mother's knitting needles klakking together before nodding to Jack. 'Alright, bring him up.'

Tommy tried to take a sip from the cup of tea while he waited but it was still too hot. Why his Mum insisted on making all tea at such a temperature was beyond Tommy, but he didn't like to mention it. She put up with a lot but never complained.

For that he was very grateful.

Jack reappeared in the doorway, holding it open. In shuffled a bedraggled, unhappy figure. 'Dear oh dear,' Tommy commented. 'Look what the cat's dragged in.'

Bob Valentine was a mess. His face was pallid and drawn, with black rings beneath the eyes and two days' stubble across the jowls. His hair was a tangle of knots, streaked with clumps of grey amidst the black. His clothes were wet and crumpled, a once respectable suit ruined from too many nights of disgraceful behaviour. Suspicious stains lingered in all the wrong places and the stench of body odour, urine and cheap whisky began to fill the room.