Polly’s look was sub-zero.
“It’s my business, Pop. My mother
started it 25 years ago during the last lot. We’re not waiting for
Sorbay, we could wait until kingdom come.”
She snapped out orders: “Pop, you and I are on the
next fast train to the Smoke, I’ll pack a bag. Your match-sellers must be in place in East India
Dock Road from first light. We’ll put
the word out to some of the old Blackshirts, I need a dozen good men. Men I can
trust with coshes, knives. We’ll have a few shooters on
standby just in case.”She turned to Dot: “We’ll be back in business by tomorrow night. If anybody gets in our way, so be it. I’ll leave it to Sorbay, in his own good time, to do whatever needs to be done with the Reds.”
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