Excerpt: Heist: The Thieves Of London

“Delivery, Miss.” The strawman grunted, touching his cap's peak again.

“Oh no. We ordered no straw for today.”

“Got the address writ right 'ere, Miss.” The strawman argued, rummaging in his pocket and producing a filthy hand and an even filthier piece of paper within in. “See what it says?”

“S'all smudged.” The woman exclaimed in a squealing tone more suited to the rougher parts of the East End or Docklands. “How on Earth d'ya expect me to read that tatty thing? Well I never. Some people.”

Murray missed the rest of this conversation as the door finally opened. “What do you want... ?” The proprietor, one Nathaniel Brookes, looked groggily at him then straightened, tugging ineffectually at his collar and trying to straighten his jacket up. “Oh, oh erm, hello Mister Jenkins. I didn't know it was you.” He stopped fussing over his attire for long enough to open the door wider and his eyes bulged with a sudden realisation. “Please, p-please come in, sir. Terribly sorry, I forgot we had arranged this morning for you to pick up the necklaces.”

Murray fixed him with a withering look as he passed though the doorway on into the dingy interior and Nathaniel quailed. “Forgot. You forgot?” Murray began in a flawed but passable uppercrust English accent. Well of course, why couldn't the gentry have a little Scottish blood in them? He heard the door close and heard the rattle of the heavy iron key in the lock. He whirled to face the jeweller who all but leapt back in his skin. “This order for my fiancee will put over fifty pounds in your pocket. Fifty pounds.” Murray waved his hand up at the low rafters of the ceiling. “Fifty pounds, Mr Brookes, is enough to keep this little emporium of yours open for another year or two, is it not? Enough to keep you and your rotund heifer in sumptuous meals? And you, you forgot?”

“Mister Jenkins, S-sir, we do have other customers to consider.” Nathaniel Brookes began, faltering long before he hit the final word.

“Brookes.” This was said haughtily and with no small trace of undisguised loathing, not all of which was fake. Murray really did feel a strong measure of distaste at such a simpering, whimpering, useless article of humanity. This was a humble jeweller who, by virtue of his skill with precious metals and gems, had become a favourite with those of means. This popularity had prompted a move to such a far more prosperous area and a certain elevation of his standing in the community. But at heart he was still the small time jeweller he had always been, the man who ate humble meals and lit only one candle of an evening to stave off the cold. A man who worked hard to provide for the genteel folks in the big houses with shiny things to undermine other genteel folks. In a small way, Murray should have felt bad about deceiving a hardworking man, but Nathaniel had more than the means with which to remake the fortune he was about to lose. Besides, given his frugal way of living he had to have more money stashed away in the banks. No craftsman such as he would dare not to. “You might believe you have other customers to consider but I will tell you now, this turn of events will not go unmarked. Your little establishment here will fall to ashes if I spread the word of your, your...” He searched for the right word, turning his hand in a slow circle as he did so. Murray had slightly overstepped himself. “... your insolence. Do you believe for one moment I'm a man without the connections to utterly ruin you, sir?!”

Hands flapped placatingly in front of Murray and he knew he'd done himself proud with that little performance. “N-no Sir. M-mister Jenkins. Of course not Sir. I, I was only commenting that, that...” The flapping hands hovered near his arm and as if using a cushion made of air, guided him to the over plump armless chairs by the wall, the ones wrapped in red velvet for the comfort of the customers “Please sir, please take a seat over here and I'll fetch your order presently.” It was an extremely harassed man who fled behind the counter and through the dark brown curtain into the workshop.