like
they was regu-lars then started going room to room hasslin' the punters
and the brasses, too. Lecturin' them all on the evils of drugs. Wreckin'
my business, they are."
Sid shook his head, disgusted. He was worried it was Big Billy Madden
from the West End or the Italians from Covent Garden meddling where
they shouldn't. "I don't have time for this, Teddy," he said, standing.
"Throw the wanker out yourself."
"Let me finish, will you? The doctor brought a friend--Freddie Lytton.
You know ...the MP? He's up ere right now. With a bloke from a newspaper. And he's threatening to shut me down."
Sid frowned. That was troubling. Lytton had been making noise about
the Firm's robberies recently, but he'd never made ructions about their
opium dealings and Sid didn't want him to start. The Firm made good
money out of Ko. He--and others like him--bought opium from them and
also paid them to keep any comers off their turf.
"You told Lytton to go?" Sid asked.
"My girls did. And the old man."
"Your girls?" Sid said. "Get in there yourself, Teddy. Break some heads."
Ko leaned back in his chair, offended. "I'm a respectable citizen,
ain't I? Fuckin' pillar of the community, me. Breakin' heads ain't in my
line of work."
Frankie snorted. "What he means is he don't want the Honorable
Mem-ber to see his face," he said. "Won't get invited for tea at
Westminster if Lytton twigs that Ko the Chinese striver is also Ko the
opium peddler and Ko the ponce. He's a bit of a climber, our Teddy."
"Hell, Frankie! I pay you protection money, so fucking protect me!" Ko yelled, banging his fist on his desk.
"You want to watch your tone, Edward," Frankie warned.
Sid saw that Frankie was getting restless and he wasn't in the mood
for a smash-up tonight. The lad was like a bull terrier that needed
regular exercise to keep him from chewing up the furniture.
"Come on," Sid said. "We're here. Let's do this and go."
Frankie led the way out of Teddy's office and up a narrow flight of
stairs. He banged on a locked door at the top of the first-floor
landing. A glass peephole was opened but the door was not.
"Havin' yourself a gander, are ya?" he asked, smiling into the
peephole. Then he drove a cosh into it, shattering it. "Open the
bleedin' door or I'll kick it to pieces and you with it!" he shouted.
The door was yanked open. The wizened old man who'd served them tea
stood on the other side, rubbing his eye. Sid entered and looked around,
disoriented by the opulence. Wooden platforms painted with flowers and
dragons and canopied with heavy silks lined the walls. Thick rugs
overlapped on the floor. Candles flickered in what seemed like a
thousand pa-per lanterns and a bitter blue smoke hung in the air. These
were exotic rooms that belonged in some fabled Chinese city, not London.
Teddy Ko owned a dozen buildings in the area. He called them
laun-dries, and by day people washed and pressed clothing in them, but
the laundries were only the respectable fa�e of a much darker
enterprise. At night, long after the wash kettles had been emptied and
the irons cooled, men and women, hurried and furtive, knocked and
entered, slipped coins into the hands of Ko's hostesses, then slipped
into oblivion.
Sid saw them now--lying on the platforms or sprawled on the
floor--heavy-lidded, slack-jawed. The young woman who'd let him in moved
among them, stooping to refill pipes with chunks of brown paste or to
tuck a pillow under a lolling head. Other young women lay entwined with
male customers in curtained beds. There were people with money here--Sid
could tell by their clothing--and others whose night's high had cost
them a week's wages. Frankie bent over one well-heeled woman who was
lying dazed in a corner. He patted her cheek and, when he got no
response, helped himself to her rings. Sid looked around the room but
there was no sign of Lytton.
Teddy came up behind him.
they was regu-lars then started going room to room hasslin' the punters
and the brasses, too. Lecturin' them all on the evils of drugs. Wreckin'
my business, they are."
Sid shook his head, disgusted. He was worried it was Big Billy Madden
from the West End or the Italians from Covent Garden meddling where
they shouldn't. "I don't have time for this, Teddy," he said, standing.
"Throw the wanker out yourself."
"Let me finish, will you? The doctor brought a friend--Freddie Lytton.
You know ...the MP? He's up ere right now. With a bloke from a newspaper. And he's threatening to shut me down."
Sid frowned. That was troubling. Lytton had been making noise about
the Firm's robberies recently, but he'd never made ructions about their
opium dealings and Sid didn't want him to start. The Firm made good
money out of Ko. He--and others like him--bought opium from them and
also paid them to keep any comers off their turf.
"You told Lytton to go?" Sid asked.
"My girls did. And the old man."
"Your girls?" Sid said. "Get in there yourself, Teddy. Break some heads."
Ko leaned back in his chair, offended. "I'm a respectable citizen,
ain't I? Fuckin' pillar of the community, me. Breakin' heads ain't in my
line of work."
Frankie snorted. "What he means is he don't want the Honorable
Mem-ber to see his face," he said. "Won't get invited for tea at
Westminster if Lytton twigs that Ko the Chinese striver is also Ko the
opium peddler and Ko the ponce. He's a bit of a climber, our Teddy."
"Hell, Frankie! I pay you protection money, so fucking protect me!" Ko yelled, banging his fist on his desk.
"You want to watch your tone, Edward," Frankie warned.
Sid saw that Frankie was getting restless and he wasn't in the mood
for a smash-up tonight. The lad was like a bull terrier that needed
regular exercise to keep him from chewing up the furniture.
"Come on," Sid said. "We're here. Let's do this and go."
Frankie led the way out of Teddy's office and up a narrow flight of
stairs. He banged on a locked door at the top of the first-floor
landing. A glass peephole was opened but the door was not.
"Havin' yourself a gander, are ya?" he asked, smiling into the
peephole. Then he drove a cosh into it, shattering it. "Open the
bleedin' door or I'll kick it to pieces and you with it!" he shouted.
The door was yanked open. The wizened old man who'd served them tea
stood on the other side, rubbing his eye. Sid entered and looked around,
disoriented by the opulence. Wooden platforms painted with flowers and
dragons and canopied with heavy silks lined the walls. Thick rugs
overlapped on the floor. Candles flickered in what seemed like a
thousand pa-per lanterns and a bitter blue smoke hung in the air. These
were exotic rooms that belonged in some fabled Chinese city, not London.
Teddy Ko owned a dozen buildings in the area. He called them
laun-dries, and by day people washed and pressed clothing in them, but
the laundries were only the respectable fa�e of a much darker
enterprise. At night, long after the wash kettles had been emptied and
the irons cooled, men and women, hurried and furtive, knocked and
entered, slipped coins into the hands of Ko's hostesses, then slipped
into oblivion.
Sid saw them now--lying on the platforms or sprawled on the
floor--heavy-lidded, slack-jawed. The young woman who'd let him in moved
among them, stooping to refill pipes with chunks of brown paste or to
tuck a pillow under a lolling head. Other young women lay entwined with
male customers in curtained beds. There were people with money here--Sid
could tell by their clothing--and others whose night's high had cost
them a week's wages. Frankie bent over one well-heeled woman who was
lying dazed in a corner. He patted her cheek and, when he got no
response, helped himself to her rings. Sid looked around the room but
there was no sign of Lytton.
Teddy came up behind him.
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