Will Thomas - Some Danger Involved

"Is it a trade?" Zangwill asked, sucking at his long stem.

"Well, not like any trade I've heard of before, but then, I'm no businessman."

"What did you do before Barker hired you?"

"Eight months for theft at Oxford Prison."

Zangwill coughed so hard, he nearly dropped his fragile pipe. At that point, the proprietor came up and my friend, if he was still my friend, ordered for us both. After he left, Zangwill looked me square in the eye.

"Very well, Thomas, confess. How did a bookish little fellow like yourself end up a hardened criminal?"

For the second time in twenty-four hours, I told the story of my life, though a much abbreviated and less personal version this time. Coffee came, and a small dessert which Zangwill jokingly called a "barrister's torte." He seemed fascinated by my story and was not evasive toward me in the least, as I had feared he might be upon hearing my history. We talked and smoked and drank several cups of the strong brew. I hadn't had a real friend since childhood. It felt good to sit here across from a fellow my own age and talk about anything that came into my head.

"A detective and a former convict with a tragic past. Oh, Becky shall eat this up."

"Who is Becky?" I asked, mystified.

"Rebecca Mocatta. Rabbi Mocatta's daughter. You're expected at their house tonight. Hasn't Barker told you?"

"Mr. Barker delights in keeping me in the dark and dancing like a marionette. I always suspect that all of London knows what I am doing before I do. How came you to hear of it?"

"Oh, Barker asked the rabbi, the rabbi informed his family, and Becky told me about it this morning. You're to be the Shabbes goy at their house inЕ," he consulted his watch, "well, in a few hours, I suppose."

I took in the news. "Forgive my ignorance, Israel, but just what is a Shabbes goy?"

"You are to keep the lamps and fires lit in their home overnight, since we Jews are forbidden to work on the Sabbath. You'll work from six in the evening tonight until six in the evening tomorrow night. Straight through. I hope you are well rested."

I thought of my few hours of drunken stupor the night before, and my headache suddenly began to return.

"Wonderful," I muttered.

"Well, Mrs. Mocatta is quite a dragon," my friend continued, "and the rabbi is no charmer, but you should get along fine. It's easy work; they generally give it to a child. But I must warn you to be careful around Becky. She's quite vivacious, and they guard her like a treasure. Only two daughters, you know, and she the younger and unmarried. Have a care, Thomas!"

"I'll try to control myself," I assured him, amused at his chiding.

The bill arrived and I pounced on it. The proprietor took possession of our pipes, which he stored with several hundred others in racks overhead. There they would sit, ready for use as long as we would live, Zangwill assured me, and when we passed away, they would be broken in a small but solemn ceremony. Who could ask more of any institution?

"Now you must sponsor someone yourself someday," Zangwill said. "But not just anybody. You must use foresight and discretion. Be selective."

"And where am I going to find a Welsh detective who was formerly a convict? We don't grow on trees, you know."

Zangwill laughed and patted me on the back as we parted company. "You're starting to sound like a Jew now."

Barker was once more seated at our table at the Bucharest. When he saw me approach, he shoved a thumb and finger under his bristly mustache and launched a loud whistle which reverberated off the buildings. There was a clatter of hooves, and Juno and Racket came rattling around the corner.

"Did you have an instructive morning?" he asked.

"I believe I did, yes."

"Climb aboard, and you can tell me all about it."

We climbed into our seats and I gave my employer all the particulars about the secret meeting, from the young man who rapped on my table at the Bucharest to the little ritual at the Barbados. I didn't tell him that Zangwill had revealed my schedule for the evening. It was my trump card.

"I didn't tell too much about our plans to Zangwill, did I? I assume he is a suspect."

"Certainly, he is very close to everything. We cannot rule him out just yet. But you revealed nothing. How is your head, by the way?"

"Not bad."

"Do you think you might be up for something a little out of the ordinary?"

"Of course, sir. Anything."

"I would like you to serve as a Shabbes goy for Rabbi Mocatta's family this evening and tomorrow."

"Ah," I said.

"You do know what a Shabbes goy is, do you not?"

"Of course." I did now. He looked a little taken aback.

"Excellent. I've told them you were newly hired and that I wanted you to see a typical Jewish home, since we do work for the Board of Deputies, of which Rabbi Mocatta is a member. Actually, of course, your purpose is to speak privately with Miss Mocatta. She was perhaps the only confidante of Louis Pokrzywa. If anyone would know about his private life, and the girl who wrote the notes at the Poplar Church, it would be her."

"Yes, sir."

"You had a hard night. Are you up to this?"

"I believe I am, sir."

"You should spend the afternoon resting. You'll be up for twenty-four hours in a row, and I want you sharp as a tack. I hear this Mrs. Mocatta is a corker."

"As you wish, sir."

Barker looked a little irritable. Perhaps he was put out at not getting to explain the duties of a Shabbes goy to me. "You're deucedly agreeable today. Is there anything I should know?"

"Not a thing, sir."

"Anything you're not telling me?"

"No, sir," I answered, all innocence.

We were at Barker's residence again. I climbed down out of the vehicle. "I'll have Racket here at five thirty, with directions to the rabbi's home."

"Aye, sir."

As I opened the door to our residence, the hansom rattled off in the direction of our offices.

Despite Barker's admonition to get some rest, I wasn't really sleepy, having just had several cups of coffee. There was no sign of Mac when I came in, and for a few moments I debated what to do. Should I go upstairs and obey my instructions, or try to read in the library? Perhaps I might have an early soak in the bathhouse.

The hall was so quiet, I could hear the murmuring of the stream in the back yard. I still had my coat on, so I went out to sit in the garden. I am no expert, but the garden appeared well laid out, and Barker's team of Chinese workers took excellent care of the place. Plants of all sorts were already pushing shoots up through the mulch. I peered for a moment through the glass walls of a small greenhouse. Barker certainly knew how to live.

There was a sudden clicking sound and a low curse. I was on my guard instantly. The sounds seemed to be coming from the alleyway behind the garden. I moved forward cautiously. The fence is eight feet high, and there is no way to see out except to open the gate. Carefully, I did so.

Etienne Dummolard was in the alleyway, pitching some sort of metal balls about. I couldn't imagine what he was doing there. It was past noon and he should have been at his restaurant.

"Good afternoon, Etienne."

"Thomas! Come play boules with me. I will teach you how. No Englishman is capable of learning the intricacies of the game, but you Welsh are Celts, are you not?"

"Yes," I said, and stepped forward. The game, as it turned out, was rather like lawn bowling: one rolls out the small jack, then tries to get closest to it with the heavy steel spheres. I've no great love for the English historically, knowing what they did to the Welsh, but I did believe them capable of comprehending the simple rules of the game.

"Shouldn't you be at the restaurant, Etienne?" I asked casually.