area, since those responsible for most of the crime elsewhere in Castlemere preferred not to bring work home.
There were six streets but only one way in. Jubilee Terrace was the last turning off Brick Lane before it ran into the dereliction of Cornmarket. Wags in The Ginger Pig reckoned that if you waited till the racing was on the telly and then walled up the junction youâd solve most of Castlemereâs problems at a stroke. There was just enough truth in that to make it funny.
The second last turning off Brick Lane, on the other side, was the walkway through to Broad Wharf and Donovanâs narrowboat Tara. Apart from Martin and Lucy Cole on the James Brindley , the denizens of The Jubilee were his nearest neighbours.
He thought about putting Brian Boru on the chain that served as his lead and taking the dog with him. In Brianâs company he could walk with impunity into The Jubilee, downtown Beirut or the jaws of hell itself. On the other hand, it was hard to engage people in casual conversation when they kept counting their fingers. He took Brian for a run round Cornmarket, half a mile down the towpath, then left him in Taraâs chain locker while he headed for The Jubilee alone.
What he was looking for was a fringe member of the Walsh clan. No one connected with the Dickenses would give him the time of day; neither would anyone without affiliations, for fear of attracting attention. Those associated with the Walsh family would be happy enough to see Mikey get his just deserts and would probably be happy enough to help, but might want to get approval from head office before saying anything. Gang wars had started with less provocation.
So Donovan wasnât looking for an official Walsh spokesman so much as a hanger-on who might talk faster than he thought, who might hear all the gossip mainly because nobody noticed him, and pass it on in the touchingly simple belief that anything that was bad for Dickenses had to be good for Walshes.
Such a man was Billy Dunne, and when Donovan saw the bent little figure shuffling down Coronation Row his heart rose. He faded back into the shadows at the corner of Jubilee Terrace, where a broken light had been awaiting replacement for three years to his knowledge, and waited for the characteristic tap-drag of Billyâs progress to reach him.
Billy Dunne may have had his collar felt more times than any man living, even Kevin Tufnall, but never before as he walked round a dark street corner a hundred yards from home. He let out a squawk they could have heard in The Fen Tiger, which was undoubtedly where he was heading now.
It wasnât the most auspicious beginning to a discreet chat. âJesus, Billy,â exclaimed Donovan disgustedly, âhave you got a guilty conscience or what?â
âMr Donovan?â Equal quantities of relief and alarm warred in Billyâs creaky voice as he peered into the darkness. He thought at first that heâd been jumped by something nasty, then that it was a policeman, then and finally that being jumped by that particular policeman was pretty nasty. He tried frantically to remember if heâd been up to anything Donovan could have found out about.
Donovan had thought heâd keep Billy company as far as The Fen Tiger, where Castlemereâs four canals met in a near-subterranean basin near the centre of town. But if Billy Dunne had to talk to a policeman, and he didnât seem to have much option, he preferred to do it in the shadows. He stood his ground nervously. âWas you looking for me, Mr Donovan?â
âI was,â said Donovan. âMatter of fact, Billy, I thought you could help me with something.â
The words confirmed Billyâs worst fears. When the police asked for your help, without arresting you first, it was the kiss of death to a man in Billyâs position. If you couldnât or wouldnât help they never forgot it; if you could and did, everybody you knew crossed you
There were six streets but only one way in. Jubilee Terrace was the last turning off Brick Lane before it ran into the dereliction of Cornmarket. Wags in The Ginger Pig reckoned that if you waited till the racing was on the telly and then walled up the junction youâd solve most of Castlemereâs problems at a stroke. There was just enough truth in that to make it funny.
The second last turning off Brick Lane, on the other side, was the walkway through to Broad Wharf and Donovanâs narrowboat Tara. Apart from Martin and Lucy Cole on the James Brindley , the denizens of The Jubilee were his nearest neighbours.
He thought about putting Brian Boru on the chain that served as his lead and taking the dog with him. In Brianâs company he could walk with impunity into The Jubilee, downtown Beirut or the jaws of hell itself. On the other hand, it was hard to engage people in casual conversation when they kept counting their fingers. He took Brian for a run round Cornmarket, half a mile down the towpath, then left him in Taraâs chain locker while he headed for The Jubilee alone.
What he was looking for was a fringe member of the Walsh clan. No one connected with the Dickenses would give him the time of day; neither would anyone without affiliations, for fear of attracting attention. Those associated with the Walsh family would be happy enough to see Mikey get his just deserts and would probably be happy enough to help, but might want to get approval from head office before saying anything. Gang wars had started with less provocation.
So Donovan wasnât looking for an official Walsh spokesman so much as a hanger-on who might talk faster than he thought, who might hear all the gossip mainly because nobody noticed him, and pass it on in the touchingly simple belief that anything that was bad for Dickenses had to be good for Walshes.
Such a man was Billy Dunne, and when Donovan saw the bent little figure shuffling down Coronation Row his heart rose. He faded back into the shadows at the corner of Jubilee Terrace, where a broken light had been awaiting replacement for three years to his knowledge, and waited for the characteristic tap-drag of Billyâs progress to reach him.
Billy Dunne may have had his collar felt more times than any man living, even Kevin Tufnall, but never before as he walked round a dark street corner a hundred yards from home. He let out a squawk they could have heard in The Fen Tiger, which was undoubtedly where he was heading now.
It wasnât the most auspicious beginning to a discreet chat. âJesus, Billy,â exclaimed Donovan disgustedly, âhave you got a guilty conscience or what?â
âMr Donovan?â Equal quantities of relief and alarm warred in Billyâs creaky voice as he peered into the darkness. He thought at first that heâd been jumped by something nasty, then that it was a policeman, then and finally that being jumped by that particular policeman was pretty nasty. He tried frantically to remember if heâd been up to anything Donovan could have found out about.
Donovan had thought heâd keep Billy company as far as The Fen Tiger, where Castlemereâs four canals met in a near-subterranean basin near the centre of town. But if Billy Dunne had to talk to a policeman, and he didnât seem to have much option, he preferred to do it in the shadows. He stood his ground nervously. âWas you looking for me, Mr Donovan?â
âI was,â said Donovan. âMatter of fact, Billy, I thought you could help me with something.â
The words confirmed Billyâs worst fears. When the police asked for your help, without arresting you first, it was the kiss of death to a man in Billyâs position. If you couldnât or wouldnât help they never forgot it; if you could and did, everybody you knew crossed you
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