London's Burning

LONDON’S BURNING ‘SUMMARY JUSTICE’ SERIES - BOOK 4 THEO HARRIS London’s Burning Book 4 of the ’Summary Justice’ series Copyright © 2023 by Theo Harris All rights reserved. Paperback ISBN: 979-8-391748-43-4 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, places of learning, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Edited by Linda Nagle Cover art by Keith Johnston (Keith Draws Cover Art) PROLOGUE The room was buzzing with its usual excitement as the auction continued to garner higher-than-usual bids. It was one of those rare occasions when there were two or more parties interested in many of the rarer items. Christie’s was a world-renowned auction house, having auctioned billions of pounds’ worth of goods in recent years. It was time for one of the rarer and more unusual items on offer. The auction house had ensured that it was placed strategically between some of the more expensive items to raise its profile and hopefully increase bidding. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said the auctioneer, ‘we now come to lot five-three-six, a most unusual item that we hope will attract much bidding. The proceeds of the sale will go towards improvements and equipment for a charity that helps single women, including a gym and club that helps with their physical and mental wellbeing. The item has been generously donated for these causes by a London company that wishes to remain anonymous.’ He indicated towards a colleague, who was approaching the dais holding a crimson velvet cushion displaying a unique bejewelled eyepatch. It was made of gold and encrusted with diamonds and other gems of various colours. The leather strap had been worked so that it held several smaller diamonds along its length, except for the last five inches of each side, which was fabric used for the knot. ‘This very unusual, one-off, jewel-encrusted eyepatch was made by Tiffany and Company in Paris, and is made with twenty-four-carat gold. It is magnificently encrusted with eighty high-colour Carre-cut diamonds totalling forty-four carats, four Zambian emeralds totalling six carats, eight Mozambique rubies totalling ten carats, and finally four black opals totalling two carats. I have online bids and will start the bidding at three hundred and twenty thousand pounds.’ There was a buzz in the room as the starting bid was announced, with many intrigued by such a curious item. ‘Do I have three-fifty?’ the auctioneer asked. He glanced to the side, where the assistants were dealing with online bidders. One of them raised their arms. ‘We have three-fifty from an online bidder. Do we have three-seventy-five?’ An elderly woman in the audience raised her paddle, indicating a bid. ‘We have three-seventy-five on the floor, thank you, madam. Do we have four hundred thousand?’ One assistant stood up, raised her arm in the air, and called out, ‘Five hundred thousand!’ There was a collective gasp from the audience. ‘We have a bid of five hundred thousand pounds from overseas, ladies and gentlemen. Does anyone care to raise the bid to five hundred and fifty thousand?’ He looked at the audience ahead of him, some shaking their heads, others wide-mouthed at the development. Looking at the assistants, he saw more shaking heads. The bidding seemed to be over. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this beautiful one-off item is unlikely to be seen again, so don’t let it get away.’ He looked again, and there was no movement. ‘Going once, going twice… and sold, sold, sold to our overseas bidder for five hundred thousand pounds, ladies and gentlemen! That will be a tremendous boost to the charities that it will help. Thank you all for your bids.’ There was a round of applause as the auction ended and the assistant removed the eyepatch from the dais. The buzz of excitement continued for several minutes. ‘Moving on to the next item, never seen before, a small twentieth-century self-portrait by the master artist David Hockney, oil on canvas, circa nineteen seventy-four. The bidding starts at sixty-five thousand pounds.’ * * * ‘Goodnight, Winston; make sure to try those cookies on your break, Marion spent hours baking them yesterday,’ the auctioneer told the security guard as he left the building. ‘Thank you, Mister Crawford, and please thank Missus Crawford too, they look delicious,’ the guard replied, saluting as the auctioneer waved one last time before exiting via the front entrance and onto King Street. He walked towards St James’s Street as he took his usual route to Green Park tube station. There was little daylight left and streetlights were now illuminating the now-quiet road. As he neared the junction, the scaffolding that covered the entire building on the corner appeared to be the only place the lighting hadn’t penetrated, the pavement still in darkness under the wooden boards that surrounded the building. It wasn’t helped much by the white transit van that was parked alongside it, which cast more shadow on that part of the pavement. Crawford had used this route for more than seven years and had no fear about the unlit pavement. His mind was on the successful auctions he had conducted that day, which had exceeded everyone’s forecasts and estimates by several million pounds. His bonus would be a good one. Making his way under the scaffolding, he saw the van’s sliding door open suddenly as he came alongside it and two large men jumped out silently, one either side of him. They grabbed an arm each. A quiet, well-spoken voice came from within the van. ‘If you struggle, we will not be so gentle with Marion. Do you understand?’ Crawford’s blood froze as he nodded and acquiesced to being led to the van.