Page 25 of A Case of Possession
“Yeah. It was rats.”
“No trouble?”
“Not to speak of,” Merrick said. “You?”
“Not much success. And the Amazing Vanishing Shaman has buggered off again, without a word, as usual.” Crane’s tone wasn’t quite as light as he’d intended.
“Cor, dear.” Merrick shook his head. “You have got it bad, ain’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. Round his little finger.”
“Shut up.”
“Pining, that’s what you are. I didn’t recognise it at first, but—”
“Shutup, you repulsive inebriate, or I will dismiss you without a character. And go to bed. We’re up early tomorrow.”
“Gawd, are we? Why?”
“Rackham,” said Crane. “He gave me till Friday and that’s tomorrow. So we’re going to see him first thing.”
“He won’t be up first thing.”
“He will once I’ve dragged him out of bed. Leo Hart sent me a note, he’s asked her for five hundred pounds. She’s fairly upset. And since we’ve got nowhere finding anything good on him, we’re going to have to act a bit more directly.”
“Good-oh. What we going to do?”
“Break his legs, I suppose,” Crane said. “Or offer him five hundred quid to fuck off. Or both.”
“Better not break his legs if you want him to fuck off on ’em. What’s Mr. Day say?”
“He’s got troubles of his own. I want Rackham to stop being one of them.”
“Yeah, you take charge of that.” Merrick yawned widely. “Gawd knows he can’t handle himself. And you never know, do enough stuff for him, he might stick around a bit longer.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Merrick gave him a look. “Means you need to do a bit more thinking, that’s what. You reckon if I was a Long Meg like you, I’d act like I ruled the world too?”
“I do not act like I rule the world, and what’s my height got to do with anything?” Crane snapped. “What brought this on?”
“You work it out. I’m going to bed.”
“Fuck you too,” said Crane, and stalked off in a thoroughly bad mood.
He was still in a foul temper the next morning as they knocked at the door of Rackham’s lodging house. It was off Cable Street in a rather miserable area of town east of the Tower. The house was damp, the landlady not overwhelmingly respectable or polite. She was torn between contempt for anyone who wanted to see her unloved lodger and awe at Crane’s obvious wealth.
“Well, I dare say you can go straight in then, sir,” she muttered, pocketing the generous tip Crane offered for her trouble. “You’ll be lucky to find him up. Lazy worthless piece of trouble, that man is, with his dirty Chinee friends.”
Crane and Merrick followed her through the low door, through a dank and cabbage-redolent corridor, and up an ill-swept landing, where she left them with something close to a flounce, and a suggestion that Crane could mention the matter of this month’s rent to his friend.
“Well, he’s not spending his ill-gotten gains on luxurious living.” Crane banged on the door.
Merrick hunched his shoulders. “He deaf or what? That racket’s giving me a headache.”
“No, that was you getting sloshed with a small child.”
