William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

away from him. Perhaps he was frightened at last, not just aware of dangers that he must live with every day, but of something so large and so dark it stripped away all bravado and pretense. His fear was out of his control, and he did not want Monk to see it.
    They walked side by side near the edge of the water, both lost in their own thoughts on the reality of death, and its pedestrian, physical immediacy. They were barely aware of the slap of the tide on the wall of the steps, and the shouts of the lightermen and stevedores a hundred yards away unloading a schooner from the Indies.
    “This is worse than I thought,” Monk said after a while. He stopped walking and looked out over the water. He must be careful how he phrased it or Scuff would know he was being protected, andwould resent it. “I don't like to involve you, because it's dangerous,” he went on. “But I don't think Orme and I can do it without your help. There are boys who will trust you who won't even speak to us, unless you're there to persuade them.”
    Scuffs narrow shoulders were tight, as if he were waiting to be struck; it was his only outward sign of fear. Now he stopped, hands in his pockets, and turned slowly to face Monk. His eyes were dark, hollow, and embarrassed by what he saw as his own weakness. “Yeah?” He wanted desperately to meet expectations.
    “I think we'll need you all the time, to help with the questioning, until we get him,” Monk said casually, starting to walk again. “It would be a sacrifice, I know. But we'd find you a proper place to sleep, where you could shut the door and be alone. And there'd be food, of course.”
    Scuff was too startled to move. He stood rooted to the spot. “Food?” he repeated.
    Monk stopped and turned back. “Well, I can't come looking for you every day. I haven't time.”
    Suddenly Scuff understood. Joy filled his face, then very quickly he sobered up to a proper dignity. “I reckon I could,” he said generously. “Just until yer get ‘im, like.”
    “Thank you,” Monk replied, almost certain that Hester would see the necessity of keeping Scuff safe as long as Jericho Phillips was free, however long that might be. “Well, come on then! The first boy we need to find is the one who identified Fig from Durban's drawings. He might know something else, if we ask him the right questions.”
    “Yeah,” Scuff said, as if he thoroughly agreed. “‘E might, an’ all.”
    However, it took them the rest of the day to find the boy, and he was clearly very unhappy about speaking with Monk about anything. They stood where the narrow entrance of an alley opened into the Shadwell Dock. The tide was ebbing and slapping over the stairs a few yards away, leaving the higher steps slimy as it retreated. There was a large ship in the New Basin behind them, its spars and yards black against the fading sky.
    “I dunno nothin’ more,” the boy said urgently. “I told yer ‘oo ‘ewere, same like I told Mr. Durban. I dunno ‘oo done ‘im, an I can't ‘elp yer.”
    “‘E won't leave yer alone ‘til yer tell ‘im.” Scuff gestured towards Monk. “So yer might as well get on wif it. It don't do ter be seen talkin ter the cops, if yer can ‘elp it.” He gave a philosophical shrug. “It's a bit late for me, but you could save yerself.”
    The boy gave him a filthy look.
    Scuff was impervious. “Wot else did Mr. Durban ask yer?” He looked at Monk, then back at the boy. “Yer don't want ‘im as an enemy, believe me. If yer like, ‘e'll pretend ‘e never ‘eard of yer.”
    The boy knew when to give up. “‘E were askin’ fer a woman called Mary Webster, Walker … Webber! Summink like that,” he said. “Like a dog wif a bone, ‘e were. Where was she? ‘Ad I seen ‘er? ‘Ad anybody said anything, even ‘er name? I told ‘im I'd never ‘eard of ‘er, but ‘e wouldn't leave it. I told ‘im I'd ask me sister, just ter shut ‘im up, like. ‘E said as ‘e'd be back. This Mary whatever were ‘bout ‘is age, ‘e said, but ‘e dint know much more about ‘er ‘n that.”
    Scuff looked across at Monk.
    There was a pleasure boat passing down the river, hurdy-gurdy music playing. The sound drifted on the air, loud and then soft, loud and then soft, as the wind carried it.
    “So did you ask your sister?” Monk said, curious to know what Durban was looking for. There had been no mention of a middle-aged woman before.
    “Not the first time,” the boy answered, sucking in