Page 75 of Guardian
“And you can’t go in at the roof. I looked last night,” James said. “Too steep, and it’s slate. It’ll be slippery if there’s any rain or mist at all.”
My eyes flicked sideways to him in surprise.
He gave me a look. “You honestly believe I’ve been thinking of anything else since you told me?”
“Besides, the family lives above. They’d hear for certain.” I gazed at the map. “What about tunnels or passages from St. Etheldreda’s or other buildings?”
“But that would still require going into buildings off the street,” James said. “I think I have something better.”
“What?” I asked.
“This is the Fleet, coming down at a diagonal from King’s Cross.” His finger traced the river, slowly so we could follow, running from Euston Station southeast along Gray’s Inn Road to Blackfriars Bridge.
“But that’s too far west of Hatton Garden,” I said. “By at least a quarter of a mile.”
“There’s a comb of tunnels off the river.” He sketched them in. “Five that go east here, above Holborn. When I was smuggling, we used them to bring goods from the Thames, especially barrels, because we could boat them or float them instead of carrying them on our backs. There are passages all underneath that part of the city, from back when tea and opium were smuggled in, with trapdoors in the floors or the alley behind. There were at least a dozen shops that took in shipments, accepted their cut, loaded the goods into carts out the back, and pushed it inland.”
I stared. “Simonson’s?”
His eyes glinted. “Aye. At one time, that building had a trapdoor we used. But the jewelers split the building, and I don’t know which side the trapdoor falls on.”
“Simonson’s moved from Clerkenwell only two years ago,” Amelia said.
“Likely Willingham’s moved in around the same time, once the building was partitioned,” James said. “Did you see any sign of a trapdoor in either jeweler?”
“The floors were wooden planks, covered by a carpet in Simonson’s,” I said slowly, picturing them. “But I noticed something odd.”
James’s look was expectant.
“The inside walls of the two jewelers might have a gap of a few feet between them.”
“Cor,” James said. “I didn’t notice. How did you figure that?”
“The windows.” I turned to Amelia. “Do you have a pencil?” Amelia handed me one and I took out the paper with my note and Sarah’s reply, flipping it to the blank side. I drew the building, with the doors and the plate glass windows. “When you’re inside the shop, the edge of the window meets the counter, which is perhaps two feet deep and three feet from the wall. But from the outside, it’s at least fourteen feet—around five paces, perhaps even six, between the two windows.”
“That leaves at least four feet,” Mary said.
“So if there’s a trapdoor, it could be between the two,” James said. “And then there’ll have to be a door into each shop—or at least one of them—for the trapdoor to be of any use. But you said you didn’t see one in the plaster on the inside walls.”
“It could be behind a mirror. Or what about inside the stairwell?” I asked, sketching the jeweler’s shop in a bird’s-eye view. “To the side of the steps here?”
“That would work,” James agreed.
“We need to be sure the tunnel still reaches the building,” Mary said.
I looked at James. “I can’t swim.”
“Nobody’s swimming,” he assured me. “I’ll get a lighter from one of the boathouses, and we can row until we reach the side tunnels. Unless it’s a full moon or there’s been a heavy rain, water levels are shallow enough to wade most nights, and full moon was last week.” He refolded Amelia’s map. “After the ebb tide tomorrow, I can try.”
“I can go with you,” I said.
“No need,” he replied. “It’s easier if I do it myself.”
“So that may get you to the jeweler,” Mary said.
I looked across the table to Amelia and Mary. “Do you know a cracksman you can trust?”
Mary shook her head. “Only Castle men.”
