barely enough
money to buy food after the rent had been paid. And yet they'd had
everything--parents who loved them. Songs and stories by the fire at
night. Laughter. Hope. Dreams. Until, almost overnight, it had all been
taken away. They'd lost their father. Their mother. Their baby sister.
Finally, Charlie disappeared, too. She and Seamie had survived only
because of caring people who'd helped them--their uncle Roddy, their
uncle Michael in America, her first husband, Nicholas.
But Charlie had had no one to help him then. Only Denny Quinn and his
pack of thieves. He had no one now, either. No one to tell him about
the danger he faced. If he didn't leave East London, and turn his back
on the life he was leading, Freddie Lytton would do for him.
Don't get involved, Joe had told her. Forget him. Bury the past.
She wondered now if Joe had forgotten the lesson they'd both
learned-- that the past was a restless corpse that never stayed buried.
It crawled out of its grave again and again, trailing its bitter stench
of sorrow and regret.
Sid Malone was a product of that past--a violent and bloody past--one
that had begun in 1888 when a murderer had stalked the streets of
Whitechapel. When dockers worked sixteen-hour days for fivepence an
hour. When villainous lodging houses spilled forth thieves and
prostitutes.
It had all begun when their father died. Paddy Finnegan had had an
accident at Burton Tea, where he worked. He'd fallen from a high doorway
at the company's wharf. The children had weathered his death, but then
their mother was killed--stabbed by a madman called Jack the Ripper--and
something had happened to Charlie. He'd come home to find his mother
dying in the street and it had unhinged him. He'd run off and no one had
been able to find him. A few weeks later a body had been fished from
the Thames, so badly decomposed that the authorities had been able to
iden-tify it only because of a watch they'd found on it--a family
heirloom that Paddy had given to Charlie.
Alone with Seamie, and desperate for money, Fiona had pursued a claim
for compensation her mother had made after her father's death. She'd
gone to Burton Tea one evening, determined to speak with the owner,
William Burton. Instead, she'd overheard him discussing her father's
death with a criminal named Bowler Sheehan. Her father hadn't died
acci-dentally, she learned; he'd been murdered by Sheehan at Burton's
behest because he'd been trying to convince his fellow workers to join a
dockers' union. Discovering this had put Fiona's own life in jeopardy.
She'd fied London, vowing that Burton would pay for what he'd done, and
she'd kept that vow, returning ten years later to take his tea company
from him.
Burton had tried to kill her then, too, but was thwarted. He escaped
the police, but they hunted for him. When weeks passed and he wasn't
found, it was assumed he'd gone to the Continent, but he hadn't. He'd
hidden in his old tea wharf. Eventually, he managed to lure Fiona there
and had made a third attempt on her life. The only reason he hadn't
succeeded was because of Sid Malone.
Unbeknownst to Fiona, Sid had been watching her ever since her
stun-ning takeover of Burton Tea made the newspapers. His men had
followed her to the wharf and had saved her and Joe, spiriting them away
to the south bank of the Thames. There they'd learned that Charlie
Finnegan had not died back in '88; instead, he'd become Sid Malone.
After Charlie had run away from the sight of his murdered mother,
he'd wandered East London half mad, not knowing where or who he was. One
night, while digging in a rubbish bin for food, he was attacked by an
old en-emy, a lad named Sid Malone. Sid beat him viciously, robbed him
of his watch, and tried to kill him. Charlie hit back in self-defense,
but he hit too hard and fractured Sid's skull. In a panic, he dumped the
body into the river, forgetting
money to buy food after the rent had been paid. And yet they'd had
everything--parents who loved them. Songs and stories by the fire at
night. Laughter. Hope. Dreams. Until, almost overnight, it had all been
taken away. They'd lost their father. Their mother. Their baby sister.
Finally, Charlie disappeared, too. She and Seamie had survived only
because of caring people who'd helped them--their uncle Roddy, their
uncle Michael in America, her first husband, Nicholas.
But Charlie had had no one to help him then. Only Denny Quinn and his
pack of thieves. He had no one now, either. No one to tell him about
the danger he faced. If he didn't leave East London, and turn his back
on the life he was leading, Freddie Lytton would do for him.
Don't get involved, Joe had told her. Forget him. Bury the past.
She wondered now if Joe had forgotten the lesson they'd both
learned-- that the past was a restless corpse that never stayed buried.
It crawled out of its grave again and again, trailing its bitter stench
of sorrow and regret.
Sid Malone was a product of that past--a violent and bloody past--one
that had begun in 1888 when a murderer had stalked the streets of
Whitechapel. When dockers worked sixteen-hour days for fivepence an
hour. When villainous lodging houses spilled forth thieves and
prostitutes.
It had all begun when their father died. Paddy Finnegan had had an
accident at Burton Tea, where he worked. He'd fallen from a high doorway
at the company's wharf. The children had weathered his death, but then
their mother was killed--stabbed by a madman called Jack the Ripper--and
something had happened to Charlie. He'd come home to find his mother
dying in the street and it had unhinged him. He'd run off and no one had
been able to find him. A few weeks later a body had been fished from
the Thames, so badly decomposed that the authorities had been able to
iden-tify it only because of a watch they'd found on it--a family
heirloom that Paddy had given to Charlie.
Alone with Seamie, and desperate for money, Fiona had pursued a claim
for compensation her mother had made after her father's death. She'd
gone to Burton Tea one evening, determined to speak with the owner,
William Burton. Instead, she'd overheard him discussing her father's
death with a criminal named Bowler Sheehan. Her father hadn't died
acci-dentally, she learned; he'd been murdered by Sheehan at Burton's
behest because he'd been trying to convince his fellow workers to join a
dockers' union. Discovering this had put Fiona's own life in jeopardy.
She'd fied London, vowing that Burton would pay for what he'd done, and
she'd kept that vow, returning ten years later to take his tea company
from him.
Burton had tried to kill her then, too, but was thwarted. He escaped
the police, but they hunted for him. When weeks passed and he wasn't
found, it was assumed he'd gone to the Continent, but he hadn't. He'd
hidden in his old tea wharf. Eventually, he managed to lure Fiona there
and had made a third attempt on her life. The only reason he hadn't
succeeded was because of Sid Malone.
Unbeknownst to Fiona, Sid had been watching her ever since her
stun-ning takeover of Burton Tea made the newspapers. His men had
followed her to the wharf and had saved her and Joe, spiriting them away
to the south bank of the Thames. There they'd learned that Charlie
Finnegan had not died back in '88; instead, he'd become Sid Malone.
After Charlie had run away from the sight of his murdered mother,
he'd wandered East London half mad, not knowing where or who he was. One
night, while digging in a rubbish bin for food, he was attacked by an
old en-emy, a lad named Sid Malone. Sid beat him viciously, robbed him
of his watch, and tried to kill him. Charlie hit back in self-defense,
but he hit too hard and fractured Sid's skull. In a panic, he dumped the
body into the river, forgetting
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