Free Blue Madonna by James R. Benn

impress Hammer, get his attention. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have contacts. Valuable contacts.”
    â€œYeah, we got someone checking on your contacts. I heard of Archie Chapman,” Willie said. “If that ain’t a lie as well, we might live up to our end of the bargain. But if that’s another phony story, well, then you’ll be sorry you ever walked through our door.”
    â€œBecause you won’t be walking out,” Nickadded, still gripping the Bulldog.
    â€œI think he gets it,” Willie said, leaving no doubt as to who was the brains and who was the muscle.
    â€œHow’d you know?” I asked. “About the blankets.”
    â€œNick, stash the piece and brew up some tea for our guest, all right?” Nick looked disappointed but shuffled over to the stove, stuffing the pistol into his pants pocket. “You think there’d be ten thousand blankets within a hundred miles, and we wouldn’t know about it? Our boys hit a train in Basingstoke last month, took off a couple thousand army blankets. That was the last of any quantity in the area. A U-boat sunk a transport in a convoy a couple of weeks ago. Guess what it carried?”
    â€œWool blankets,” I said, impressed with their intelligence sources.
    â€œRight. So there’s a shortage of blankets right now. You overplayed your hand, Mr. Boyle.”
    â€œListen, that was only for show. But Archie Chapman is the real deal, as are my other contacts. You’ll see.”
    â€œWe better, and soon,” Willie said. He crushed out his cigarette and leaned back, eyeing me like a dubious banker facing a farmer asking for a loan. After a drought.
    Nick set down the tea. Unlike most households, there was no shortage of sugar at 65 Goosemoor Lane. We drank, an almost domestic moment. I figured even though they were criminals, they were English, and odds were they wouldn’t interrupt this ritual with gunfire.
    â€œYou’re going to fix me up with identity papers, right?” I said. “Assuming everything checks out.”
    â€œYeah.” Willie nodded. “We’ll make you a Canadian to confuse things a bit. Medical discharge, ration book, the works.”
    â€œWill they hold up if I get caught at a checkpoint?”
    â€œWhy not? They’re the real thing. Nothing but the best for you, Boyle. We’ve got doctors who will sign anything, and we got stacks of all sorts of government forms stolen right out from under their noses.”
    â€œThis war’s the best thing that ever happened,” Nick added. “There’s more valuable stuff lying around than ever. I used to be a smash-and-grab man, going after jewelry and the like in store windows. Now all we have to do is a bit of burglary in the wee hours, and we can fill in the paperwork for whatever we want.” Looked like Nick had some brains after all.
    â€œAnd then your lot comes along.” Willie chuckled. “With everything from nylon stockings to whiskey to canned hams. A man’d be a fool not to get rich these days.”
    â€œSomeday,” I said, “we’ll look back on these as the good old days.” That got a laugh. I was tempted to ask if any of their pals or family had died in this war that made them so rich, but I held back. Too much respect for the British Bulldog. “So how safe is this place anyway? I assume Hammer and Frankie don’t hand out the address willy-nilly.”
    â€œIt’s safe, don’t you worry,” Willie said. “We only go out during the shift changes. That way, we blend in with the laborers and keep from drawing attention to ourselves.”
    â€œGood plan,” I said. “Police don’t come around much?”
    â€œNot on this street,” Willie said. “It’s mostly cheap rooming houses and apartments now, for all the workers. There’s a couple of pubs a few streets over, and they draw the most attention.