“That’s not much to go by. Loach had many connections in the stews.” Knight’s blunt features were devoid of emotion even as he admitted knowledge of the culprit.
“Not just in the stews,” Garrity said with equal equanimity. “According to my sources, he worked as an occasional informant for that policeman Davies.”
Harry’s nape went cold.Bloody hell…Loach worked for Davies? Why didn’t Davies mention it when I told him about Loach’s assassination attempt on Black?
“Know a lot about the bugger, don’t you?” O’Toole narrowed his eyes at the moneylender.
Garrity shrugged, the dark superfine on his shoulders remaining smooth. “I know a lot about many things and especially about those who owe me money. Loach had been a client for some time. When the situation called for it, he paid off his debts by selling information to Peelers.”
“Called for it, eh?” Malcolm Todd sneered. “When one o’ your brutes threatened to shatter ’is kneecaps, you mean?”
Garrity’s smile was razor sharp. “My methods are proprietary.”
“You’d take blunt earned by squealing?” O’Toole said in disgust.
“I take money that is owed to me,” Garrity said coldly. “Pity Loach is dead: he still owed me five hundred pounds.”
“Enough.” Black’s command cut short the repartee. “Loach may be dead, but the threat lives on. Someone attacked The Gilded Pearl and my own ’ome using the same weapon. An explosive capable o’ burning down the streets. O’ destroying territory lines, which means no one at this table is safe.”
The air crackled with an invisible force, as if someone had attached an electrifying machine to the alcove and was madly cranking. Harry had to appreciate Black’s move. The appeal to self-interest was a brilliant stratagem to enlist the dukes’ help and to flush out the traitor.
“What do you want us to do?” Knight said.
“Bring me the rat,” Black said flatly. “I’m giving you a week. Produce the traitor, or I’ll be forced to do a purge, bloody casualties be damned.”
Black was offering them a chance to find the culprit before he was forced to do so…by any means necessary. Speculative glances were traded around the table, the question in everyone’s mind clear:Which among us is the rat?
“That’s all,” Black said.
Dismissed, the three dukes took their leave. Todd remained.
Black nodded, and the guards shut the curtains once more.
“Well?” Black said without preamble.
Ming’s braid swung side to side. “Not know. All could be guilty.”
“I don’t like that bastard Garrity.” Todd’s lips curled. “Don’t trust any man who takes money from a squealer. And, for all we know, the Peelers are behind this: maybe they paid Loach to take a shot. God knows they’ve tried every other way to take you down.”
Goddamnit, we still cannot pin that bastard Black to a crime?Inspector Davies’ words rang in Harry’s head. Davies had made it his life’s mission to capture Black, yes, but surely a man of the law wouldn’t stoop to murder?
“Wouldn’t be the first time one o’ Peel’s Bloody Gang tried to frame me.” Black grunted. “Protecting the public, my arse. They only protect one kind o’ people, and it ain’t our kind.”
Harry’s insides knotted. Who could he trust? Was he helping the right side?
Black was no saint, yet he brought a semblance of order to his rowdy domain. He did charitable works, helped those in need. And he was under siege by an evil that, if uncontained, could threaten all of London.
“Well, Bennett, what do you think?”
Black’s question broke Harry’s brooding.
“I think that surveillance needs to be kept on O’Toole, Knight, Garrity…and anyone with a link to Loach,” he said starkly.Including Davies.
“We ’ave the men for that, Ming?” Black said.
“Stretched thin. Could use help.”
“I could—” Harry began.
