opium for the people

Jarrick pulled nervously at the wig and tugged at his half-inched gentlemanly get-up, visibly uncomfortable in the ill-fitting clothes.
"Stop your twitching, you'll get us collared, hissed Daniel, glancing up and down the high street and between the carriages for suspicious looking faces.
"Listen, it don't fit, it itches, and I'm getting sick. Me guts are going and I'm getting the jitters. I ain't so sure about this Danny boy. Jarrick winced as the first drips of sweat seeped into the razor cuts from the dry shave he'd suffered earlier at the hands of Daniel, in preparation for this performance.
"Just think on this Jarrick. Get this done and you'll feel sweet and we'll be set up for a week. Maybe even sell some. They'd only end up buying them back at twice their own rate, and it wouldn't be the first time they'd made that rick. But anything to get Jarrick through the shop door.
"It's this unrelenting bloody sunshine, whined Jarrick, still hoping for an easier way to get through the morning. "It's near blinding me. I'm a night-owl, Danny boy. I shouldn't be out where I can be seen, in the merciless light and heat for god's sake.

If truth be told it was a dull and dreary March morning ' grey as a mouse and demanding overcoats, but it was a great deal brighter than the collie-lamps they saw by every night down in the Rabbi's den. Daniel was sweating and squinting too, but his own, deeper cut across his cheek was smarting, and he was more concerned he'd be spotted by its creator, or one of his lackeys: Lord Rathbone was powerful, he had the money to buy many men. Daniel's guts took a turn.
"The shops are shut at night, Jarrick.
"I know a way...
"You don't. Mrs Beale locks it up tighter than a gnat's arse, and puts the goodies away under the house. She's wise to the likes of us, Jarrick. She won't even have us in the shop.We have to use subterfuge.
And think on this. Come sundown we'll be crawling up the walls. We can't wait. Get in there and play your part. Be Mr Upright with a nasty bout of the colic. Get the pills and we're home and dry.
"Alright Danny boy, I'm going in. The sweat was now pouring out from under the slipping wig, Jarrick looked very ill. Daniel nearly called him off, but his guts took another turn and he let out a risky fart.
"On you go Jarrick, and be quick or they'll pick up your stink, he chirped, holding his nose to make his point, and he gave Jarrick a friendly but firm push in the direction of the shop door.

The door's bell signalled Jarrick's entry with a loud but dull clank. The place was as dark as a coalscuttle after the blinding daylight, and Jarrick stepped in unsteadily, holding his hands out in front of him. In this way he managed to walk straight into the only other customer waiting at the counter. Jarrick jumped back in a panic: Daniel may have been joking earlier but the truth of the matter was Jarrick stunk so much he could smell himself; boiled cabbages, if he wasn't mistaken. He daren't get too close to anyone in case he gave the game away, but jumping around too much would also raise a stink. He froze, a couple of paces away from what he could now make out was a tall, balding gentlemanly type, wrapped head to toe in a black cape, and who was looking Jarrick up and down with a little too much interest.
"Glad to make your acquaintance sir, my name is Mr Creed.
Fuck off Mr Creed. I'm going to shit meself in a minute.
"Are you unwell, sir? May I be of assistance? Mr Creed leaned closer and whispered, "One Keeper to another, of course.
"Eh? Jarrick looked sharply left and right and behind, not sure if it was himself the balding toff was addressing.
"Steady man, where's your subtlety? hissed Creed, "the badge, man. The badge!
Creed was looking down at Jarrick's get-up. Jarrick followed the stranger's eyeline down to a rose brooch on his lapel. Creed turned the collar of his cape and flashed an identical brooch.
Oh. So now I belong to a gentlemen's' club, thought Jarrick. I might have some of that¦
"We need to talk. We need to meet. All us Keepers of Office must be made aware of the serious turn recent events have taken. I shall be in the Golden Goose from eight. Look sharp and turn the badge inwards my friend.
Jarrick nodded but was no wiser to Creed's meaning as the man took his package from the woman behind the counter and left the shop without another word. The brief exchange had, however, done wonders for Jarrick's disguise: the woman had been watching the exchange closely, and was clearly taken in by Jarrick's gentlemanly turn-out. He bought the opium with little fuss, coughing for effect in all the right places, and swiftly made his exit.
Daniel had watched the whole performance through a tiny corner windowpane.