Doctor Who_ Amorality Tale Part 6

Brick's words faded away as his grip slackened. The Doctor extracted himself from the giant man's arms, wincing at the constriction of movement in his chest. It felt like the muscles around his ribs were stretched and bruised. He was fortunate the ribs had not caved in from the intense pressure. Leaning on a table for support, the Doctor looked up at Brick's face. The ma.s.sive figure was now impa.s.sive, his features a blank.

'Thank you, old man. I'm very grateful to say you are highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion,' the Doctor said, ruefully rubbing his chest.

'You're welcome,' Brick replied in a lifeless monotone.

The Doctor smiled. 'I can't resist saying this. Take me to your leader!'

Father Simmons was happily strolling back to St Luke's from the Bread of Life store when he saw a crowd gathering outside the front steps. He started running when he noticed the trail of blood leading to the crowd. Somebody was hurt and they had come to him for help. If only he hadn't stayed on at the shop, making sure everything went smoothly on the first day of business.

The priest pushed his way through the handful of bystanders. Someone had turned the injured man over and folded a jacket under his head for comfort, but otherwise his wounds went unattended. There were two vivid red slashes across the man's chest. His hands were feebly trying to hold his internal organs in place. His face was white, as if drained of blood. The evidence of where it had gone was staining his shirt and trousers.

Father Simmons demanded one of the crowd surrender their jacket. The priest tore the jacket apart at its seams to remove the lining. A single, savage glare from Father Simmons silenced the protests of the jacket's owner. The priest pressed the lining against the wounds as an impromptu dressing before looking up at the bystanders.

'Has someone called an ambulance?' he asked.

'I did. It should be here any minute,' an elderly woman replied.

'Bless you,' Father Simmons murmured. If the injured man got to hospital in time, there was still a faint chance he might survive. But the priest froze when he saw one of the other faces in the crowd grinning down at him. Without even thinking, Father Simmons made the sign of the cross.

Tommy was just sitting down to lunch with his mother and Sarah when the doorbell rang. Tommy slammed his fork down on the tablecloth in disgust.

'Can't I have a single meal in peace? This place is worse than the nick!' he protested. Tommy didn't bother tucking into his generous serving of steak and kidney pudding. Whoever was at the door was bound to stymie his chances of finishing the first mouthful. He could hear raised voices downstairs and then several pairs of feet coming up the stairs.

Jack burst into the room, just ahead of two other people.

'I'm sorry Tommy, I told them you was having your dinner but...' He turned and looked helplessly as Brick stomped into the room, followed by the Doctor. Sarah was almost as surprised as the gangster to see the new arrival.

'Who the bleedin' h.e.l.l are you?' Tommy demanded.

The ambulance drove away from St Luke's Church, the sound of its bell fading into the air. With the injured man removed, the crowd soon dispersed. But one man remained as Father Simmons was left, looking down at his b.l.o.o.d.y hands.

'Look familiar, does it?' Callum asked.

'I don't know what you mean,' the priest protested. 'Were you responsible for that poor man's terrible injuries? He could die, you know!'

'I'm just surprised he lasted this long. I got a bit over enthusiastic, you might say.'

'Callum that's your name, isn't it? Callum, you've got to stop the violence between your boys and Tommy Ramsey's men.

It's been building up for weeks. You've got to stop things escalating any further!'

Callum smiled. 'Why should I?'

'You're only drawing attention to yourself.'

'I want attention! I want everyone to know my name! I want to be famous and if I have to kill every one of Tommy Ramsey's men, I'll do it.'

Father Simmons shook his head sadly. 'I don't doubt you believe that. But think about the effect of what you are doing.

You will ruin everything I have worked for in this community.

I'm trying to build a better world, starting here.'

'Then let it be ruined,' Callum sneered. 'I don't have to listen to you or anyone else.' He grabbed the priest's wrists and held them up. 'There's just as much blood on your hands as there is on mine, Father.'

'You don't understand. I've changed. I'm not the same man who used to hurt and rob and steal for his own gain, for his own pleasure.' The priest pressed his hands together as if in prayer, pleading with Callum. 'I've changed, I've seen the light of our Saviour. I believe you can change too!'

'Believe what you want I know the truth!' Callum walked away, laughing to himself. Father Simmons sank on to the stone steps, where a dying man had lain only minutes before. The same steps where a dying man had lain six years ago...

'You'll have to excuse Arthur for bringing me here, but I hypnotised him. This should bring him round.' The new arrival in the Ramsey household snapped his fingers and Brick blinked once, twice and then looked quite bewildered.

'Where am I?'

'Home!' Tommy replied.

'How did I get here?'

'Hypnosis,' the Doctor replied. 'Dreadfully sorry, but I wanted to meet Mr Ramsey and it seemed the quickest way of gaining an audience.'

Mrs Ramsey intervened to spare Brick from the forthcoming fury signalled by Tommy's face rapidly changing to a disturbing shade of puce. 'Arthur, why don't you come in the kitchen and I'll fix you a nice cup of tea?'

'Ta, Mrs Ramsey, that'd be lovely. Don't know what's come over me.'

While she was ushering Brick out of the room, the Doctor introduced himself to Sarah. 'I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Doctor John Smith, but everyone just calls me the Doctor. I fix problems with time clocks and watches. My shop is just opposite St Luke's Church.'

Sarah shook his hand. 'Sarah Jane Smith. I work for Mr Ramsey.'

'Really? That must be interesting.' The Doctor smiled warmly, winking at his companion on the sly.

'You two know each other?' Tommy demanded suspiciously.

'My dear chap, just because we share the same name, it doesn't mean we are related. Smith is the most common surname in England.'

Tommy grunted before beckoning to his second-incommand.

'Jack, I want you to go see what's happened to Billy.'

Tommy whispered some additional instructions into Jack's ear before sending him away. Once he had gone, Tommy cast a careful eye over the man who had outwitted two of the Ramsey Mob's most dangerous enforcers.

To Tommy, the Doctor looked like some variety show magician. His shirt was ruffled at collar and cuffs, the green velvet smoking jacket, the careworn face and mighty nose indicated a lifetime spent jobbing around the theatres and clubs of Britain. The talent for hypnotism helped cement the impression. Yet the Doctor was obviously no buffoon, despite his extravagant gestures and supercilious accent. Tommy always looked deep into the eyes of everyone he met, to best a.s.sess the depths of their character. It was a gift which enabled him to know his friends and his enemies better than they knew themselves.

In Sarah's eyes Tommy had seen someone who was curious and caring, yet willing to be ruthless when the need arose. The Doctor's eyes were rich and strange, as if they had seen more than most. There was a sadness about them too, born of deaths and disappointments and too many goodbyes. Tommy was impressed but not afraid the Doctor was a significant opponent. If he could be turned to Tommy's will, he would be a powerful ally.

'You've been causing my men some strife, Doctor. By rights I should have you beaten near death and dump your body outside that pathetic little watchmender's shop so everyone can see. What's stopping me?'

'Curiosity,' the Doctor replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 'You can't quite decide what to make of me. You'd like to know more before you act.'

'Let's suppose you're right. What do you plan on doing next?'

'Try to talk some sense into you!'

Tommy laughed. 'This should be good! Have a seat and tell me more.' The gangland boss pushed his rapidly congealing plate of food to one side and gestured for the Doctor to join him and Sarah at the table.

'I will never pay a penny for your so-called insurance. There are far greater threats facing the people of this city than the Ramsey Mob.'

'What do you mean ' Sarah began, but a glare from Tommy snapped her mouth shut. She resolved to keep silent. Having only just begun to win over Tommy's trust, she had to be careful not to throw it away again.

'I mean,' the Doctor continued, 'that Mr Ramsey and his men should be preparing their defences not lining their pockets.'

'Talk to me, not to her,' Tommy grunted. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his suit pocket and lit one. 'What threats? If you're talking about Callum and his gang of boys, they ain't worrying me. I seen their kind come and go.'

'Perhaps,' the Doctor replied. 'But don't say I didn't warn you.' 'Warn me? All you've done is talk in riddles. You got something to say then spit it out. Otherwise keep it shut,'

Tommy said.

'For an intelligent man, you sell yourself short, Mr Ramsey.

You could have been a community leader with your personality, doing good. Instead you rob from the community, taking their cash and their dignity in a dozen different ways. You and your kind are the East End's own worst enemy.'

Tommy was shaking his head. 'That's where you're wrong. I protect these people these are my people. When a husband gets laid off, I'm the one who makes sure the kiddies get fed.'

Tommy pushed his chair back and stood up, punctuating his words with jabs of his finger.

'When the fascists tried to drive the Jews out of the East End, it was me and my men who stood shoulder to shoulder against the black-shirted sc.u.m. When a factory closes down, I'm the one who makes sure the workers can find new jobs. I look after the people of Sh.o.r.editch and St Luke's and Old Street. I protect them n.o.body else! Not the old bill, me Tommy Ramsey!'

The Doctor looked unimpressed. 'And what is the price of this protection? You're just a minor thug of no historical importance. In twenty years' time you'll be forgotten, superseded, superfluous. There's no place for you in the modern world.'

'Is that right?'

'Yes, I'm afraid it is.'

Tommy glared down at the Doctor, sucking one last breath of smoke from his cigarette before stubbing it out on his dinner plate. 'Well, let me tell you something. There's no place for you on Old Street you're not welcome round here. While we've been busy having our little discussion, my men have torched your shop.' Tommy consulted his watch. 'The flames should just about have finished their job. Now get out of my sight, Doctor, and don't come back again!'

The visitor stood up slowly, preparing to leave. But he had one final comment to offer before departing. 'You haven't seen the last of me.'

Tommy just waved him away. 'Yeah, yeah. Don't slam the front door on the way out, will you it upsets me Mum.'

Jack Cooper had broken in through the back entrance of the troublesome watchmender's shop, armed with a can of petrol and an American Zippo lighter. Once inside, Jack carefully poured the contents of his can around the fixtures and fittings.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he retreated to the back entrance and pulled out his lighter.

Jack had taken the lighter from the pocket of a drunken US serviceman who was sleeping with Jack's mother. Jack was only ten in 1942, but he already knew his mother was no better than the wh.o.r.es who sold themselves on the docks. Other boys had taunted and teased him about it relentlessly. That night, Jack decided to do something about it. He stole the lighter and used it to set fire to his own home, while his mother and the soldier were still asleep inside. They might have escaped the smoke and flames if the boy hadn't pushed a wedge under the bedroom door, trapping them inside.

As he watched the flames engulf his home, Jack left childhood behind. He vowed never to be ashamed again. He would take what he wanted and d.a.m.n the consequences. The boy became a man. Too young to fight in the war, he fought on the streets instead. Among the other runaways living like wild dogs on the streets of London, Jack became a legend. His baby-faced good looks and curly blonde hair gave him the appearance of a little angel but his savage behaviour and fondness for starting fires were all devil.

What Jack couldn't steal he would burn using his precious lighter, the one possession he kept from his first life. But for Tommy Ramsey, Jack would probably be dead by now, or standing trial for murder like Derek Bentley and Christopher Craig. Tommy caught Jack on his sixteenth birthday, trying to torch a warehouse in Moorgate. The building was part of the rapidly expanding Ramsey empire and Tommy didn't take too kindly to attacks on his property. But he recognised a fearless ferocity inside Jack that would be useful, if directed properly.

Tommy took the lad under his wing and schooled Jack in more subtle ways of achieving success.

Now Jack was Tommy's second-in-command, a rising star in the Ramsey Mob. There remained only one more obstacle to Jack's ascension to power Tommy himself. The last six months had given Jack a taste for more power and reverting to the role of Tommy's errand boy was no subst.i.tute. Still, at least it gave him the chance to indulge his first love: firestarting.

Jack touched his lighter to the puddle of petrol on the floor.

Flames spread hungrily through the shop, consuming the floor and licking at the furniture. Jack stood transfixed, watching it dance and flicker. At last he tore himself away and retreated through the back door. He walked around the block past a police call box and then stood on Old Street to watch the fire engulf the interior of Fixing Time.

'Still playing with matches, Jack?'

Steve 'Madman' MacMa.n.u.s was standing beside Jack, smoking a cigar. He was sharply dressed in a camel-hair greatcoat with gleaming brown leather shoes and leant on a silver-topped cane. A fanatical Tottenham Hotspurs supporter, MacMa.n.u.s controlled large sections of North London. He walked with a slight limp ever since an incident involving a rival gangland boss, a machine gun and a butcher's knife. n.o.body knew the details but the rival's body parts had never been recovered.

Jack nodded at the new arrival. 'Nothing beats a roaring fire, boss.'

'Tsk, tsk!' MacMa.n.u.s waggled a finger playfully at Jack. 'You don't want the locals hearing you call me that. I don't think Tommy would be best pleased to discover his right-hand man is defecting to another firm.'

'He'll know soon enough. I can't wait to see the look on his face.'

'All in good time, my lad, all in good time.' MacMa.n.u.s studied the fire, the flames illuminating his thin, hawkish features. 'No fire engines rushing to the rescue?'

'Fire brigade don't know about it unless somebody tells them. People round here know better if they see me standing outside. I'll call the brigade in a few minutes myself don't want the fire spreading, do we?'

MacMa.n.u.s nodded. 'So, what's been happening?'

Jack reported on the day's events before pressing MacMa.n.u.s to act soon. 'I don't think I can take much more of Tommy's self-serving superiority.'

'Patience, Jack, patience you're too impetuous. Give Mr Ramsey enough rope and he'll hang himself for us. Then you can take over his patch.'

Jack nodded his reluctant agreement. 'What about this new gang are they a welcome home present from you?'

For once, worry furrowed MacMa.n.u.s's brow. 'No, I don't know where they've come from. This Callum sounds like he could give you a run for your money. But anything that adds to Tommy's woes and confusion is welcome.'

'What will happen to Callum and his gang after...?' Jack ventured.

'After we deal with Tommy?' MacMa.n.u.s took another generous drag on his expensive cigar. 'Everyone is expendable, Jack. You would do well to remember that. Everyone is expendable.'

At 15 Tabernacle Street, Mrs Ramsey was showing Sarah to her new bedroom, at the top of the house. It was small and cosy, with just a single bed, a wardrobe and a lamp on a bedside table.

'I think you'll be comfortable here, dear,' Mrs Ramsey said hopefully. 'The linen and eiderdown are fresh on today and I've put a nightie under the pillow for you.'

Sarah sat down on the bed and sank into the soft mattress.

'It's wonderful, Mrs Ramsey. I'm sure I'll sleep like a log.'