Chapter Forty-Two- Cash & Confrontations
Having wandered about the streets for half an hour attempting to calm himself and get his thoughts in order, Bill made up his mind to walk to Fagin's. Early morning light was creeping up at the fringes of the sky, turning the worn cobblestones gold beneath his feet. His boots sounded ominously loud in the nearly deserted streets and he quickened his pace as he neared his destination.
He entered unbidden as he always did, spotting Fagin instantly. The old man was seated at the table and, in the weak sunlight oozing through the windows; Bill could make out another figure sitting opposite him.
"Fagin?" he called, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."
The old man and his companion, the latter half hidden in shadow, turned to face the newcomer. The laughter died from Fagin's face as he surveyed Bill and Bill got the distinct impression that Fagin wasn't happy to see him.
"Indeed we do," he said, the slightest hint of a growl in his voice. "Sit down, my dear, sit down."
Bill did as he was asked, somewhat surprised to find, as he drew closer to the pair, that the man seated opposite Fagin was none other than Toby Crackit himself. He mentally rolled his eyes as he noticed the half empty glass in the red-haired man's hand; how much alcohol could he consume without losing consciousness?
"Toby and I have just been discussing some matters of business ourselves," said Fagin curtly, surprisingly awake at this early hour of day, and angry with it. "At least he accepts what I pay him."
Bill's heartbeat quickened. Did Fagin mean what Bill thought he meant? But how could he possibly…
"Yes," said Fagin grimly. "I know all about your little visit, my dear."
"You expect me to put up with the lousy amount you pay me?" snarled Bill, immediately on the defensive. "You ain't payin' me enough Fagin an' I bleedin' well know it!"
Fagin raised an eyebrow.
"And why do you presume those other fences down at the Cripples are correct? They could be blowing things out of proportion due to admiration, or because they don't want to be on the receiving end of one of your fists!"
Bill had nothing much to say to that so he contented himself with glowering at the old man. Toby, for his part, hid a smirk behind his glass; not very effectively it should be said.
"I've known you for years, Bill Sykes. Those men only know you because you're at the Cripples every other night. I know the true value of what you bring back."
"For Gawd's sake Fagin! Wot you gave me the last time I went 'ousebreakin' for ya; tha' wos 'ardly enough to feed the bleedin' dog let alone Nance an' me!"
His mention of Nancy brought their recent fight swimming to the surface of his memories; he tried desperately to cast the thought aside and concentrate on the matter at hand but it was as if she was there in front of him, huddled on the ground, tears spilling from her eyes…
Fagin didn't seem to notice Bill's lapse in concentration, nor the pained expression that had suddenly appeared on his features. Instead he pulled his drawstring purse from his pocket and extracted a crumpled five pound note, two pound coins and a handful of shillings. He pushed the small pile across to Bill who, breaking from his reverie as he noticed the man's movements, snatched up the money and quickly pocketed it, shooting Fagin a curious glance.
"Seems your 'eart ain't made of stone after all…if you 'ave one at all," he said, doggedly.
Fagin chuckled and refilled his glass of gin, relieved that he'd managed to make Bill happy without being threatened and amazed that Bill hadn't got round to the threats. From what his friends at the Cripples had told him, when the housebreaker had found out he'd looked mad enough to kill! Who knew, maybe he'd got rid of his anger somehow before paying a visit…
Fagin didn't care how at that point, but he was glad of it.
"I must ask one thing of you, my dear. I'm being lenient with you this time, since you do, I admit have a point. But if you ever go back to the others again…"
He left the sentence hanging and Bill nodded, sullenly, having got the message. He had half a mind to carry out his threat and tear out the throats of the other Cripples' fences before coming to the conclusion that, if he did, more housebreakers would be turning to Fagin, meaning less cash for him. Best to leave it as an empty threat. He had his money; he was content…for the moment.
Having made sure his cash was safely stowed in his pocket, the burglar made to leave but Toby called him back, his words so slurred they were hard to make out.
"Aw c'mon Bill, m'boy wha's the rush?"
Fagin raised an eyebrow at Toby's blatant display of intoxication but said nothing.
Bill, though he'd rather return to his flat and sleep, was not one to pass up the opportunity of drinking Fagin's gin. He procured himself a measure and sat down again, contenting himself with watching Toby and Fagin discuss their own matters; apparently Toby's last crack hadn't been very successful, so was Fagin really to blame for his lack of income?
The brief discussion drew to an abrupt close after a minute or two and silence reigned. Toby broke it, of course, with an un-necessarily dramatic question.
"So, Fagin, me an' Bill 'ere wos thinkin' of goin' on the job together sometime; you 'ave any good cracks set for the next week or so, do ya?"
Fagin looked from Toby to Bill and back again; Bill had raised an eyebrow at the former, hadn't he told him he wasn't interested? Toby was probably too out of it to remember Bill's abrupt earlier departure.
"As a matter of fact I do," he said, with a cunning smirk playing about his features. "Assuming you're not in this state this time next week, there's a house in the countryside nearby I've been having watched…"
Bill chuckled a little at Fagin's words; assuming as such, would it really be that bad to go on a crack with Toby? Maybe it was the gin going to his head, but he was beginning to think that having Toby Crackit as his new partner might not be such a bad idea.
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A/N: Not too fond of this chapter but it sets the scene for the next. ^^
Drunk Toby…XD
Please R&R!
