David had been in contact with Ikey on two previous occasions. At other times he had sent Ann and then, on the last occasion, young Sarah was despatched to visit him with the excuse that they cared greatly about his welfare and wished to see him cared for. Sarah, who had little recollection of Ikey's perfidious nature, decided to remain with him and now shared the cottage in Elizabeth Street. This suited Ikey very well. His daughter made no demands on him, and she washed, cooked, and generally looked after his domestic affairs.
On each of his visits, David appeared to be warm and friendly and acted as though their stormy past had been entirely forgiven. There was much talk of blood being thicker than water, and the suggestion that an eventual reconciliation seemed quite possible with Hannah. It was obvious to Ikey that the boy had a good business head on his shoulders and had learned well the duplicity of effective persuasion.
However, he had soon enough perceived the motive behind the visits of his son and two daughters. David had by now been in the employ of George Madden for some years and there was talk of a partnership. Not long after she had arrived, Sarah let slip that the offer was far from generous, and was inspired by a great deal of nagging from Hannah. Apparently George Madden didn't wish to share with her son any part of his burgeoning empire, but wanted to keep peace with the formidable Hannah, so he had made the partnership offer on the proviso that four thousand pounds was paid. It was more than someone of David's means could ever possibly hope to raise, though it was still a fair offer for a partnership in such a prosperous business enterprise.
Ikey felt certain the urgent request that he should visit New Norfolk was attached to the matter of the White-chapel safe, so he was much encouraged by David's note. That Hannah's avaricious hand would be in it somewhere he had no doubt.
Ikey was met by David at the New Norfolk wharf and taken to his lodgings, a small cottage which he occupied with Ann. She was at her place of work but had cooked a mutton stew and left fresh curds for Ikey's supper, the supposition being that he would not take the afternoon ferry but would stay overnight.
David offered Ikey brandy but he asked instead for tea. Since the death of Sperm Whale Sally he no longer drank at all and his preferred drink in the taverns at night was ginger beer.
David was dressed in a good suit of clothes such as might have been worn by any young man of prospects in a solid community such as New Norfolk. Predictably he misjudged Ikey by the fact that the coat Mary had bought for him eight years before was now ragged, and that his yellow pigskin boots, much soled and patched on the uppers, were well past their prime. David, while attempting to impress Ikey, had acquired the imperious tone of the successful grain merchant, and now spoke in a somewhat patronising manner to his father.
'The mater has put the affairs o' the family in my hands and it is time we talked,' he said to Ikey after he had placed a mug of tea before him.
'Oh yes, is your mother not well then?' Ikey asked, for he knew Hannah would never give over the reins to any of their sons unless she was on her death bed.
'In the very best o' health and much mellowed,' David said. Not waiting for a response, he continued, 'As I says, she has left things to me to clear up.'
'Things? What be these things, then?' Ikey asked. 'Well, I knows about the Whitechapel safe at home and I think we should resolve the matter, don't you?'
Ikey looked curiously across at his son. He had grown into a good-looking man, though already he was putting on weight, and the gold watch chain he wore looped over a pronounced paunch. 'Does you all know?' Ikey asked. 'No, only my mother and I, and o' course Moses and John in New South Wales.'
'Good, then your mother will agree to give me her half of the number and I shall arrange to have it opened and she shall have her share fifty-fifty, as was the original agreement!'
Ikey had long since come to the conclusion that he would give Hannah her half share. He now intended to remain in Van Diemen's Land, though not because he thought it a better place. He knew himself to be a broken man and he was forbidden to return to England. Should he move to another country, he would not have the energy to start again, or even to become accustomed to the life of a rich man in retirement.
While far from rich, he was no longer poor and life in Van Diemen's Land had taken a not disagreeable turn for him. He had grown happily accustomed to the presence of Tommo and Hawk as well as Mary in his life, and the disappearance of the two boys had both deeply shocked and saddened him. But he could never agree to receiving only one-eighth part of the Whitechapel fortune, as Hannah had proposed, nor could he bring himself to trust her with his part of the combination.
There was a prolonged silence between the two men and then David finally cleared his throat. 'It be less than sensible to trust someone what's not a part o' the family, father. You have three sons, Moses and John in New South Wales and myself here. We are all business men and can be entrusted to do the task in a most sensible manner and at the same time get the most agreeable price in London for the merchandise.'
'Ha! Sensible for you will not, I daresay, turn out sensible for me, that I'll voucher!' Ikey said indignantly. 'Seven parts to you and one to me, that's what your mother thinks be sensible?' Ikey pointed to the gold chain draped across David's paunch. 'How much you pay for that fob?'
David looked down. 'Four pounds,' he replied, running his fingers along the chain.
'Ha! It not be worth a penny over two,' Ikey said. 'Sensible, is it? Negotiate a fair price, will you? Your lot wouldn't know a brass pisspot from the bloody holy grail, you wouldn't!'
'The holy what?' David asked.
'Nevermind, it ain't kosher anyway. Yes, fifty-fifty, but you gives me your half o' the combination or we ain't got no agreement, and that's telling you flat, my dear!' Ikey looked up into his son's face, expecting him to be intimidated.
Instead David smiled and said calmly, 'We can wait. You'll die soon, Ikey Solomon, but if you wants the money in your lifetime it's still only one-eighth to you and we gets your combination.'
At the mention of his death Ikey felt his innards tighten and then relax, and he thought, 'Oh Gawd, I'm gunna shit meself!' But he showed no outward sign of the dismay and was relieved when he felt his sphincter close and his bowels return to normal. 'Ha! I've smoked you, boy! I'll not die soon enough for you to buy the partnership you wants so badly with George Madden!'
David Solomon flushed, his face turning a deep crimson. He walked over to a drawer in the kitchen dresser and from it took a small package and handed it to Ikey.
'Open it, if you please!' David demanded.
The package was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, the twine in a bow so that it came undone at a single tug. Ikey folded back the paper to find a second wrapping, this one composed of a scrap of white cloth. Ikey unfolded the cloth slowly, then gasped in horror and fainted dead away.
He recovered moments later to find David standing behind him shaking his shoulders vigorously. When he perceived Ikey to have come around he grabbed his ears and held his head tightly, so that he was forced to look directly in front of him and at the package which lay open on the table.
'That be your precious black child's forefinger!' David said. He released Ikey and came around to face him again. 'We got them both, Hawk and Tommo Solomon!' He had lost all pretence at politeness and shook his head and then spat on the floor. 'Jesus! How could you call them by our family name?'
Ikey looked directly down into his lap to avoid the sight of Hawk's severed finger. He was trembling violently and trying with little success to regain his composure. Ikey had seen much worse in his lifetime and there was no blood, the finger having long since been cut off. But the thought of it being Hawk's finger had shocked him more deeply than he could ever have imagined.