The Londum Omnibus Volume Two (The Londum Series Book 12) Read online

  Jim opened his bag and took out the photos and the notebook. ‘It’s all explained in there how the grid is scaled and all the angles and distances from where the photos were taken.’

  ‘It would take a large amount of cash also.’

  Jim reached into the bag again and took out a very thick wad of bank notes. He placed it on top of the pictures, ‘That should cover most of it; let me know when you need more.’

  The old artificer adjusted his glasses and looked through the photographs, ruffled the wad of money and glanced through the notebook. ‘Very well, if it were anyone else I would say no but for you I shall do it. It will be my finest work, the highlight of my career. A pity that no one will ever know about it.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll find out one day I imagine, when they come to move it.’

  ‘But no one will ever know it was me … never appreciate my artwork.’

  ‘You’re wrong Yakob, I will know.’

  ‘Then that will have to be enough,’ replied Yakob, with a smile.

  ***

  Jim walked into The Golden Gryphon, an East End pub. The barman saw him and nodded recognition, Jim was a regular at The Golden Gryphon, the truth was he secretly owned it, but only the man whose name was above the door as the licensee, “Leonard J. Poole”, knew that.

  Despite Jim’s wealth and his acceptance in the highest echelons of society, he’d actually been born and brought up in these mean streets of the East End. He still liked coming back to visit his roots and he actually enjoyed it here in the lower strata of society, where he was often referred to as “Gentleman Jim”. He loved these people and the Gods help anyone who tried to hurt them.

  Actually it wasn’t that unusual to see the toffs down here in the East End (where the drink was cheap and so were the women) for a night of carousing after they’d been to the theatre or the music hall, so Jim didn’t stand out that much, after all.

  He’d decided that if he was going to come down to the East End of Londum regularly, he needed a base of operations where he could relax when he was there, the drink wasn’t watered down, the food was clean and safe to eat, and he knew the staff would watch his back. So he’d scouted round the pubs, decided on The Golden Gryphon and made a deal with the owner. For a large amount of money and a free makeover for the pub, the owner had agreed for Jim to become the new owner but his name would remain on the license and they would split the profits equally.

  The barman had obviously called through to the back and Lenny Poole came over to his table carrying a couple of drinks.

  ‘Hi Lenny,’ said Jim. ‘I see you’ve brought two drinks, have a seat.’

  Lenny sat down and slid one of the drinks over to Jim. ‘Nice to see you Mr. Darby. You ain’t been in for a while. Been busy?’

  ‘Oh you know, keeping myself occupied. How’s business?’

  ‘Been quite good lately, your fifty percent will be in the bank as usual.’

  ‘Oh I know that, you wouldn’t be running this place if I didn’t trust you,’ Jim assured him.

  Lenny smiled and raised his glass in a toast as acknowledgment of the compliment.

  ‘So what’s going on around here, anything interesting?’ asked Jim.

  Lenny looked thoughtful and took a sip of his drink. ‘You sometimes get interested in charitable things don’t you, Mr. Darby?’

  ‘Depends what you mean by charitable things.’

  ‘Helping people out, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I have been known to, why’d you ask?’

  ‘Well, there’s this road not far from here called Suffolk Street. One landlord owns the whole street, nasty skinflint he is. Anyway, he’s going to sell the whole street, so all the houses can be knocked down and a factory built instead. All the families will be made homeless. There’ll be something like twenty families all thrown out onto the street. Terry the barman, his sister lives there, that’s how I got to hear about this. I was wondering if you could think of a way to help them out.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not really a property dealer, you know,’ said Jim.

  ‘No, but you’ve been around a bit, you bought this place and you rent your place up West, so you know your way round a legal document. I thought that perhaps you might come up with a way of helping them. I was wondering if you’d speak to the Tenants Association and see if you could come up with something.’

  ‘Well, if you can get this, what did you call it? “Tenants Association” to come here, I’ll have a word with them. I don’t promise anything though.’

  ‘I’m sure I can get them here tomorrow, they’re desperate for help. That be all right with you? Say twelve o’clockish?’

  ‘Sure, that’ll be fine. Right, now, what’s on the menu for lunch?’

  ***

  Next day Jim was sitting at his usual table at The Golden Gryphon, reading the paper and sipping a cup of coffee when Lenny politely knocked on the table to get his attention.

  Jim looked up and Lenny said, ‘I’ve brought some of the Suffolk Street Tenant’s Association to see you.’

  Jim folded his paper up and stood up. There were two people besides Lenny and Terry the barman, a man who was introduced as Ted Grove and a young female who was Terry’s sister, Julie. Jim bade them both to sit down while Terry brought them all drinks.

  ‘Now then, Lenny tells me you are having some problems with your Landlord. Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’ said Jim.

  Ted and Julie looked at each other and Julie urged Ted to go first. ‘Well Mr. Darby, all of Suffolk Street is owned by one man, a Mr. Bachman. He doesn’t do much in the way of upkeep for the houses in the street, just the bare minimum to stay legal I suppose and he charges as much as he can get away with. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago he comes to us all and says that he has had a good offer to buy the whole street, lock stock and barrel and unless we can outbid them, he’s going to sell to them.’

  ‘Who are them?’ asked Jim.

  ‘Some firm that manufactures ball bearings, apparently, from up north I guess. They’re looking for a site near to the docks where their raw materials come in. They don’t want to have to transport it too far, so if they had a factory close to the docks they could save a bit of money, I suppose.

  ‘Well, all the householders got together and decided we could do more acting as one body than all trying to sort out our own arrangements. The Tenants Association we called ourselves. They elected me as the spokesman, so I went to see Bachman.’

  ‘I bet that went well,’ said Jim, drily.

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Ted. ‘He told me that if we could raise a thousand pounds, he would sell us the street. As if we could raise that sort of money. So, I suppose that’s it for us. We were just getting ready to pack up and move out when Terry came to us and said you’d be willing to talk to us. I don’t quite see what you can actually do for us, short of coughing up a thousand pounds, but if there’s any chance of saving our homes then we’ll talk to anybody. Anyway, we appreciate you taking the time to listen to us.’

  ‘It’s no problem, I assure you,’ replied Jim. ‘I’ve got to be honest though, on the face of it I can’t see any way of sorting out your problem but I’ll tell you what, give me Bachman’s address and a list of who lives in which house and I’ll see what I can do. I make no promises but you never know, I may be able to persuade Mr. Bachman to change his mind.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you take the trouble Mr. Darby,’ Julie chipped in. ‘Our Terry said you were a good bloke. We’d appreciate anything you can do to help.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice of Terry to say that, so, I’ll do my best not to let you both down. Give me the information I asked for then go home and wait until you hear from me or Terry. Okay?’

  Ted handed over all the information that Jim had asked for. As head of The Tenants Association he already had all the members names and addresses then he wrote Bachman’s office address on a piece of paper and slid it across to Jim.

  ‘Right then,’ said Ted. ‘If that wi
ll be all, I’ve got to get home and get ready for my shift tonight, I’m a watchman down at the docks. Nice to meet you Mr. Darby,’ he shook Jim’s hand, ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

  ‘Bye Ted, Julie. Don’t be too downhearted, I’m sure something can be arranged,’ Jim reassured them.

  ***

  Jim walked into Bachman’s office. Well, his outer office to be precise, there was one clerk sitting behind a desk, scribbling in a ledger. Beyond him there were two doors to inner offices, one marked ‘Mr. Bachman’ and the other blank.

  The clerk didn’t see Jim until he reached over and tapped on the desk with his cane. The clerk shot upright, startled.

  ‘I’ve come to see Mr. Bachman,’ Jim informed him.

  ‘You got an appointment, sir? Mr. Bachman don’t see no one without an appointment.’

  ‘Oh he’ll see me, I’m sure,’ Jim replied. He leaned over and put his business card and a piece of paper on the desk in front of the clerk.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked the clerk, holding up the paper.

  ‘It’s an unsigned cheque with Mr. Bachman’s name on it, for a thousand pounds.’

  ‘And what am I meant to do with it?’ asked the clerk, mystified.

  Oh dear, thought Jim, you just can’t get the staff these days. ‘Give it to Mr. Bachman with my business card, I guarantee he’ll see me then.’

  ‘Er yeah, sure. Wait here a minute,’ said the clerk. He got up and went to the door marked ‘Mr. Bachman’ and knocked nervously. There was a muffled shout that presumably meant ‘Come In’ as that’s what the clerk did. He closed the door behind him and there was more muffled shouting, Jim suspected of the kind, ‘I said no visitors,’ which abruptly stopped, Jim assumed, when the cheque was produced.

  A moment later the door opened and a small man came through, smiling and rubbing his hands. Jim didn’t take to him as he had oily, unwashed hair, dirty fingernails and shifty eyes.

  ‘Mr. … er …’ he checked the business card, ‘… Darby. Do come in, come in.’ He ushered Jim into his office settled him into a chair and shooed the clerk out of the room. Seating himself behind the desk he asked Jim, ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ he asked holding up the cheque.

  ‘I’ve come to talk to you about Suffolk St. I understand that it’s up for sale.’

  ‘Possibly, possibly and what if it is? Of what interest would that be to you?’

  ‘Well, I was just wondering what would happen to all the families in those houses?’

  ‘They would have to find somewhere else to live but that is not my concern, I’m afraid in today’s modern world it’s every man for himself. After all, business is business.’

  Fine, thought Jim, I gave you the chance to reconsider and you didn’t take it, so business it is then. ‘Well, I understand that you may be selling it to a certain ball bearing manufacturer,’ he said.

  ‘And if that were true? I ask again, what concern is it of yours?’ replied Bachman.

  ‘Well, suppose I were a rival ball bearing manufacturer,’ replied Jim. ‘It might be to my advantage to not let him set up a new factory and thereby stop him from increasing his output.’

  ‘Ah I see, so it would be in your interest to outbid them for Suffolk St. then?’

  ‘Yes indeed, it would be a worthy investment. So, what do you say to that thousand pounds that you are holding? Would that be a fair price?’

  ‘Well, it would be a fair price if you were the only person asking but as you noted, there are already interested parties who have pledged that price, why even the residents of the street themselves have as good as promised as much.’ Jim knew that was a lie. ‘However, in this case if you want to attract my attention you are going to have to sweeten the pot even more. Shall we say, fifteen hundred pounds?’

  ‘Or we could say eleven hundred,’ replied Jim.

  They haggled back and forth for a few moments until they agreed on twelve hundred and fifty pounds. It made no difference to Jim, he would have agreed to any amount. He just intended to steal it back anyway. As they were talking Jim was also studying the room, he couldn’t spot anywhere that might hold a safe.

  ‘So, will you take another cheque?’ Jim asked him.

  ‘Oh, I think I would need some more guarantee than a cheque which could so easily be stopped. We’ll have to come to some more concrete arrangement.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Jim. ‘Meet me at this bank tomorrow at eleven o’clock,’ he wrote the name and address on a piece of paper and gave it to Bachman. ‘Bring the deeds of all the houses on the street and you’ll get your money in cash. That way there’s no chance of me cheating you. Is that acceptable?’

  ‘That sounds reasonable,’ agreed Bachman.

  ‘Fine,’ said Jim standing up, ‘Eleven o’clock it is.’

  He let Bachman show him out into the main office where he stopped and spoke to him again. ‘It’s a pleasure to do business with you Mr. Bachman,’ he made a point of shaking Bachman’s hand, ‘and a fine young clerk you have too,’ and then shook the clerk’s hand, then Bachman’s again and then he dropped his hat. In doing so he got himself turned around several times so that when he did what he did next, it seemed merely a mistake.

  He said goodbye and then made straight for the door to the other inner office, instead of the one leading out onto the landing. Opening the door to the office, he stepped through. He had a quick look around the room; it seemed a perfectly ordinary stock room with a skylight, casting bright sunlight onto a Sanders and Forbes Mark IV safe. That was what he wanted to know!

  Jim backed out of the room acting all confused. ‘I’m so sorry, I must have got all turned around, lost my bearings, you know. I got the doors mixed up. So sorry.’

  ‘No matter, no matter,’ Bachman reassured him. ‘No harm done.’

  ‘Well thank you. I shall see you tomorrow at eleven then, good day.’ And with that, Jim let himself out the correct door this time and went off down the corridor, whistling.

  ***

  It was eleven o’clock and Jim, Bachman, the bank manager and Jim’s lawyer, Mr. Roper, were sitting in the manager’s office at Jim’s bank.

  ‘Now then,’ said Mr. Roper, ‘Once Mr. Bachman and Mr. Darby have signed these deeds that Mr. Bachman has provided, the manager will give Mr. Bachman an envelope containing twelve hundred and fifty pounds. At that point Mr. Darby will be the legal owner of all the properties on Suffolk St. with all rights and responsibilities of the owner and Mr. Bachman will have no further claim on them. Is everyone in accord with this?’

  Jim and Bachman nodded agreement.

  ‘Very well then,’ said the lawyer. ‘Mr. Bachman, please sign here on each document and then if Mr. Darby could sign here,’ he passed the documents from Bachman to Jim to countersign until they were all stacked up in front of him, at which point he picked them up and shuffled them into his briefcase.

  The bank manager slid the envelope across to Bachman who checked it closely and then pocketed it.

  ‘Well,’ said the lawyer, ‘If everyone is happy then we can conclude our business.’ They all stood up and shook hands. Bachman left first. Jim and the lawyer thanked the bank manager and left together. Outside, Bob Carpenter was waiting in his cab. Jim nodded to him and said, ‘Golden Gryphon please, Bob.’

  ‘Righto, Mr. Darby.’

  Jim and Mr. Roper climbed in and Bob set off.

  ***

  Jim got out of the cab and helped the lawyer carry another case that Bob had been looking after in the cab, into The Golden Gryphon. Lenny Poole met them and took them upstairs to one of the function rooms. There was a table set up in the middle of the room and a couple of chairs either side. Jim and the lawyer put the cases on the table and the lawyer unpacked them, they were full of legal documents, different ones from those that Jim had signed at the bank.

  Lenny brought the pair of them drinks and some sandwiches which they ate and drank while Jim signed each of the documents one by one, as the lawyer p
ut them in front of him.

  When they had finished the refreshment and the documentation, Lenny cleared away the plates and glasses.

  ‘Can you see if they are here yet, Len?’ asked Jim. ‘If they are, bring them up, would you?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ said Lenny and went to check.

  A few minutes later he came back upstairs with Ted Grove, Terry and Julie in tow. Jim and the lawyer stood up as they came into the room.

  ‘Ted, Julie, thank you for coming today.’

  ‘Nice to see you again Mr. Darby. Were you able to reason with Mr. Bachman?’ asked Ted.

  ‘Have a seat. This is my lawyer, Mr. Roper. I have brought him here today to oversee the signing of some legal documents.’ He flicked through the documents until he found the two he was looking for. ‘The good news is that Mr. Bachman no longer owns Suffolk St. he’s sold it on to someone else.’

  ‘That’s good news isn’t it, Mr. Darby? We might have a better chance if somebody different owns it,’ said Julie. ‘Does that mean it won’t be sold for a factory, then?’ she said hopefully.

  Jim put the two documents in front of Ted and Julie. ‘Well, that’s not really up to me, I’m afraid it’s up to the new owners.’

  Julie’s face fell. ‘So we’re in the same boat as before but with new people to deal with?’

  ‘If you read those documents you’ll see that once you sign at the bottom, you are the new owners,’ said Jim.

  ‘What?’ gasped Ted. ‘We’re the new owners? How? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’ll explain,’ said Jim. ‘I bought the whole street from Bachman. With Mr. Roper’s help, I have signed over my legal rights to all the houses on Suffolk St. to the people named on that list you gave me. As soon as they sign on the dotted line they become the legal owners of their residences. Once they have all signed, they can live there forever more, or sell the house or you can all band together and sell it to the ball bearing people, if that’s what you’d like. Do what you want; it’s all up to you now.’