“Well, you’re a friend, aren’t you? Of course I’ll visit you.” It struck Nellie at that moment that her old cellmate was in fact the nearest thing she had to a friend. Where others might have felt despondent at this realization, Nellie felt relief. Children were obligation enough without the added burden of friendship. “Brought you a box of Liquorice Allsorts,” she said. “Handed it to a wardress, that one with the face of an ugly pug.”
“Edna. I’ll never see it.”
“You will,” Nellie said with commendable certainty. A pound bribe and the knowledge of where Edna’s mother lived were enough to ensure that the sweets would be handed over. Reward and punishment, the stones on which Nellie had built both business and family.
“Sweet-talking me, eh?” Agnes laughed. “Thanks anyway, Nell. How’s our Phyllis doing?”
“She’s good,” Nellie said. “A little gem.”
Phyllis, Agnes’s niece, had declared a peculiar desire to live her life on the straight and narrow, and Nellie had obliged by finding her employment in Hanover Terrace. Of course, Nellie might not have been everyone’s definition of the straight and narrow, but everything is relative. Phyllis’s own mother, Agnes’s sister, was the nonpareil of shoplifters. The whole family were accomplished thieves.
“Well, you know we’re grateful for you taking Phyllis in,” Agnes said. “God knows what would have happened to her otherwise. Joined the police force, probably.”
“So,” Nellie said, now the niceties were out of the way, “I was wondering what you might have heard on the grapevine.”
“You’re double-dealing with Maddox and his sidekick.”
“Sergeant Oakes,” Nellie confirmed.
“The Laughing Policeman. Nasty piece of work.”
“He is that,” Nellie said. “I’m hoping it’ll give me a chance to thwart Maddox when he makes his move.” She shifted in her chair. “Who’s Azzopardi, Agnes?”
“Oh, yes, old Joe Spiteri, I heard he was back in town. Didn’t realize it was him at first because he’s changed his name—before your time, of course, Nell.”
“Yes, but who is he?”
“A thief, pure and simple, before the war anyway. A bit of a legend in his day, Spiteri was—used to shin up drainpipes, climb on roofs, that kind of thing—he was a cat burglar.”
“I don’t think he’d get up a drainpipe these days.”
“Liked taking from the rich but not giving to the poor. Big houses in Mayfair, Belgravia. Hotels, too. The Ritz. Brown’s was one, I think, the Goring was another.”
“The Goring?”
“That’s where Spiteri—Azzopardi as he is now—was caught. He was trying to steal the jewellery of an American oil millionaire’s wife. One of the millionaire’s men had a gun, shot Azzopardi, only in the hand, but then hotel security got him. He was doing one last job before he retired. Never say you’re doing ‘one last job,’ Nell. You’ll curse yourself. Anyway, he was arrested, tried, sent to prison. It was a surprise to hear he’d popped up again. I’d forgotten all about him. Rumour has it that all the loot he’d stolen was stashed somewhere but he was never able to retrieve it. Jewellery, mostly, from a big job at the Ritz.”
“Jewellery?”
“Yeah, jewellery. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds.”
“Amethysts,” Nellie murmured faintly.
“Yeah, them too. What’s he to you, Nell?”
* * *
—
Visiting time came to its usual abrupt end and Nellie heaved herself up from the unwelcoming chair provided for visitors. “Well, good to see you, Agnes. You’ll be out soon. Come to the Amethyst and celebrate. Champagne’s on me.” She hesitated.
“Need something, Nell?”
“Looking for reinforcements.”
“Frazzini’s lot not enough for you?” Agnes laughed. “You need half of London on your side?”
“Need an army,” Nellie said.
“See what I can do,” Agnes said.
* * *
—
“The Amethyst?” Hawker asked, once Nellie was settled in the back of the Bentley.
“No, first go via the Foxhole. I have to warn them that there’s going to be a raid tonight.”
“Rightio.”
Nellie brooded as they drove. She didn’t like being taken by surprise. Azzopardi wasn’t after her clubs, she understood now. He was after revenge.