‘What’s this place called?’
‘The Boot. You could gut a pig on the floor without causing any noticeable change in the surroundings.’
‘Sounds delightful. What do you say we go there and take a look?’
John Wylde scratched a boil in the centre of his forehead but didn’t for a moment take his small, quick eyes off the pistol Pyke was aiming at him. He seemed comfortable despite the situation, the fact that Pyke and Johns, both with large black handkerchiefs pulled up over their faces to conceal their identities, had stormed into the pub brandishing pistols. He was a smaller man than Pyke had been expecting and was rather nondescript in person. Still, it was clear that every man in the taproom deferred to him and when Pyke jabbed the end of his pistol into Wylde’s neck, it was as if the entire room gave a collective gasp of astonishment. No one treated the emperor in this fashion, certainly not on his own territory. For his part, Wylde took the invasion in his stride, but Pyke could see that the small man was just biding his time, waiting for a momentary lapse in Pyke’s concentration.
While Pyke kept Wylde occupied, he could hear Johns tearing up floorboards at the back of the building. Pyke’s presence in Merthyr was not a secret and perhaps a man as well connected as Wylde would have heard about him, but Pyke doubted whether he would have thought a policeman capable of carrying out this kind of robbery in broad daylight. For the plan to work, Wylde had to think that he and Johns were emissaries of his rival, Ben Griffiths.
Pyke took his eye off the so-called emperor only for a few seconds but it was all the man needed. Wylde lunged at him brandishing a cudgel that had suddenly appeared in his hand. He missed with his first swing, which gave Pyke just enough time to raise the barrel of his pistol and pull the trigger, the ball-shot almost taking off Wylde’s hand at the wrist, and spraying the counter behind him with tiny fragments of blood and bone. The bully’s screams filled the room but no one else moved. He had fallen to one knee and was clutching his shattered hand.
Johns appeared at the doorway and held up a leather satchel. Pyke let him go first and then followed him through the front door. They walked quickly to the end of the alley then ran. A minute or two later, they were out of China and crossing Jackson’s Bridge.
‘I took what I could fit into the satchel,’ Johns said, panting, once they had crossed the bridge.
‘There was more?’
‘We got most of it,’ he said. ‘Enough to send Wylde into a frenzy.’
‘He’ll have to recover from his pistol wound first.’
Lines appeared across Johns’ forehead. ‘What happened?’
‘He took a swing at me with a cudgel. I shot his hand.’ Pyke shrugged. ‘It will work in our favour.’
‘He’ll tear China apart looking for his money.’
‘All we have to do is make sure he finds what he’s looking for.’ Pyke gestured at the leather satchel.
Johns looked down at the river flowing beneath them. ‘You realise we’ve opened Pandora’s box?’
Pyke joined him at the iron rail. ‘It couldn’t be done any other way, not without the sanction of the magistrate and the police.’
‘We’ll have blood on our hands before this thing is finished.’ Johns turned to Pyke. ‘Are you ready for that?’
‘To be honest, I can’t remember a time when there wasn’t blood on my hands.’
Jonah Hancock was apoplectic when he heard about the police action in Bathesda Gardens and Quarry Row and spent a few minutes pacing around the drawing room in ever decreasing circles, venting his spleen. Had the police found his son? Who had authorised the action and why had no one consulted him? Didn’t the police understand that the raid could put the boy’s life in danger? Rumours were sure to circulate regarding the object of the search. Soon they would be inundated by possible sightings and people trying to claim that they had taken the boy.
‘Sit down, it’s exhausting just looking at you,’ Zephaniah barked from his armchair. ‘This all came from Smyth, didn’t it?’ The question was directed at Pyke, not his son.
Pyke nodded. ‘He would have learned of our discoveries at the house on Irish Row from Jones.’
‘This was a shot across our bows,’ Zephaniah said quietly. ‘It had nothing to do with finding the boy.’
Pyke explained that he’d persuaded Smyth to order his men back before the situation had spiralled out of control. ‘But it did make me wonder about the enmity that exists between him and your family.’
Jonah exchanged a wary look with his father. Eventually it was Zephaniah who said, ‘Perhaps it’s a simple case of envy — and money. At one time, I suppose, his would have been the foremost family in the town.’
‘I got the impression he thinks that the ironmasters aren’t contributing enough to the general well-being of the place.’
‘We pay the rate. It’s up to the Board to determine how it’s spent.’
Pyke thought about the lack of civic amenities but decided not to say anything more.
‘I take it they didn’t find anything,’ Jonah said. ‘Anything to indicate my son’s presence on Quarry Row…’
‘Not as far as I know.’
Jonah started to pace again. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘We wait.’
‘For someone to respond to the notice in the newspaper?’
‘For the kidnappers to get back in contact.’
‘Meanwhile my son has to spend another lonely night in some godforsaken place…’
‘We’ll hear something soon.’
‘And if we don’t?’
Pyke didn’t answer.
Pyke knew that sleep was beyond him and decided to take some night air. He found his way to the walled garden and sat down on the bench. The night was clear and cold and the sky was filled with stars. Within a minute or so, he heard footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Without turning, he knew who it was. The first thing he smelled was the gin on her breath. Wordlessly she sat down next to him. They remained silent for a moment or two.
‘Sometimes I look at myself and think I’m not a good person.’ Cathy edged a little closer to him.
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever judged people on the basis of their moral fibre.’ Pyke half-turned and saw her profile silhouetted in the moonlight.
‘I married him when I was eighteen. I agreed to the marriage because he was wealthy. Isn’t that a terrible thing?’
‘Why don’t you leave him?’
‘I’ve thought about it. I might have come close to actually doing it. But I wouldn’t go without my son, and Jonah would never let me leave with him.’
‘And now this has happened.’
An owl hooted in the distance. ‘In one sense, I suppose, it has brought us closer.’
‘And in another?’
Cathy laughed softly. ‘In my good moments I know my husband wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise our son’s life.’
Pyke said nothing, waited for her to continue.
‘In others, I wonder whether my father-in-law may be trying to use the situation to his advantage.’
‘In what sense?’
‘I don’t know.’ She turned to Pyke and tried to smile. ‘My husband has a complicated relationship with his father. He’s the elder but Zephaniah always makes it clear he favours his younger brother, Richard. As a result Jonah is always trying to prove himself. I suspect Zephaniah regards Jonah, and by extension our son, as weak. I know for a fact he’s always frowned on the way William cleaves to me.’
As Pyke listened, he tried to work out how the situation might benefit Zephaniah.
‘You do believe he’s out there, don’t you?’ Cathy added, turning to him. ‘That my son is still alive.’
Pyke could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck. Sensing what was happening, he tried to move away. ‘We can’t let ourselves believe otherwise. Your son is valuable to the kidnappers only as long as he’s safe and well.’
‘I do know that.’ She squeezed his hand and edged closer to him again. ‘But it’s nice to be reminded.’ Their shoulders were practically touching.