Chapter Seven

SORCHA WRAPPED AN old rag around a leaking joint, pulling it as tightly as she could. She had been at the Watch House since well before sunset. She’d come in before her shift had started so she wouldn’t have to listen to her sister Orla’s complaining. She whacked a copper pipe with a spanner. The water inside gurgled. She gave it another thump before twisting some bolts.

Mr Norton had his face buried in his ledger. “Keep it down in there!”

Sorcha jumped to her feet and charged to the door. “C’mere to me now, Mr Norton. If you know of a quiet way to fix a leaking pipe, I’d love to hear it! Come on, then! Out with it.”

“Watch your tongue, you.”

“Or what? You’re no longer in charge, Mr Norton, or had that escaped your notice?”

“I’m still the beadle. I still say who’s on the Watch roster and who isn’t!”

“And who’ll fix the pipes if not me? Who’ll keep the carts rolling? Who’ll stop the front door from sticking? Who’ll keep Clive’s leg ticking? If you want to try, be my guest.” She held the spanner out.

Mr Norton pushed his spectacles up. “Just…try to hit things more softly.”

Sorcha huffed and went back to her work. She had wanted to go out on patrol with the rest of the Watch, but the pipes had made a convincing plea for her to remain at the Watch House. She hadn’t joined up to be a handywoman, but she’d fallen into the role fairly quickly.

She had been testy all day. She’d seen a dead body before, seen quite a few of them, actually, yet still she found herself beached on the memory of the body under Quither Pier. Perhaps it was simply because the poor man wasn’t much older than her. Investigating murder wasn’t something the Watch did often, but every once in a while, a relative of a victim would come to them seeking help in finding justice. Regrettably, the Watch’s success rate was low. Port Knot was a rough town and if people didn’t want to talk, they wouldn’t, and no amount of persuasion would convince them otherwise.

Of course, that could all change now. Vince had very persuasive methods, Sorcha was sure. If there was any information to be scared out of the woodwork, Vince would be the one to do it.

She yelped when Vince suddenly dropped into a chair behind her and threw his legs up to the table.

“You frightened me half to death,” she said, with her hand splayed open on her chest. “How does a man your size make so little noise? You look like an elephant, but you move like a cat.”

Vince raised his eyebrows and sharpened his stare.

“Sorry. Sorry. You just gave me a fright,” she said. “Your meeting didn’t go well I take it?”

“C.T.C. want to investigate.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. The victim was one of theirs.” She approached his desk slowly, as though she were creeping up on a sleeping guard dog.

“Rabbit wants us to do it. Quickly.”

“Oh. We know who he is, by the way. Frank and Clive asked around. His name was—”

“Spradbery,” Vince said. “Captain Godgrave mentioned it. At the meeting.”

“Frank and Clive checked all the usual places, but it turns out Spradbery was drinking in the Star We Sail By.”

“Off the beaten path.”

“Very. It’s not the closest alehouse to the docks. He had some friends with him who left him in the company of noted bedworker, Ms Ataraxy Crimp.”

“Spoken to her?”

“That’s the other thing. Ms Crimp hasn’t been seen since.”

“More to worry about,” Vince said with a tut. He thrust himself out of the chair and slapped his meaty hand against the door to Walter’s cell. The iron bars rattled, and Walter jumped away with a little shriek. Vince took the key and opened it.

Sorcha stood with her hands on her hips. “Here, what are you doing?”

“No sense keeping him locked up,” Vince said.

Walter tentatively crept to the door and poked his head out. He took a few steps out from the cell and paused like a rabbit from a burrow, checking for eagles.

“Celeste wants him back,” Vince said. “Can’t risk her coming here to get him.”

Walter stopped in his tracks. His back stiffened, his eyes widened, and he ran back to the cell, pulling the door closed behind him.

“What are you at now, ye eejit?” Sorcha asked.

“I’m safer in here with you than I am out there with her,” Walter said.

“Too bad.” Vince pulled the door open again. “Can’t stay here. Not an inn. Get out.”

“Please, Mr Knight, have a heart! Let me stay. If Celeste gets me, she’ll have my hands broken.”

“Crabmeat, get him out,” Vince said.

Crabmeat plodded over towards the cell, licking his lips.

Walter started to sweat. “No, wait, please. Look, what if…what if I told you where the Clockbreakers were going to hit next?”

Vince clicked his thick fingers. Crabmeat sat on the floor.

“A new family has moved into a mansion on Barley Hill,” Walter said. “Word is there’s a safe just waiting to be picked clean.”

“When?” Vince asked, slamming his hands against the cell bars.

Walter nearly jumped out of his skin. “Tonight. It’s tonight. Definitely tonight.”

SORCHA HAD SPENT long enough cooped up in the Watch House and insisted on going with the rest of the Watch. All of the houses in Barley Hill were mansions with their own lush gardens and high fences. The most affluent area of the town, it lay just a stone’s throw from the overcrowded townhouses but still a world away.

She and Alfie Exeter hid in the shadows of a gatehouse. Farther up the road on the other side, Ruth hid behind some bushes. Somewhere out of sight entirely, Frank and Clive had sequestered themselves.

Alfie Exeter squirmed, like a cat ready to pounce. “I don’t care what the commander says—I’m not letting them go this time.”

“There aren’t Pennymen,” Sorcha said. “They’re just Clockbreakers.”

“Gang’s a gang. We’ve been too soft on them for too long, and look where it’s gotten us. You want to give them time to make a new Vince Knight? We have to make them afraid of us, afraid of being caught. It’s the only way.”

“I don’t want to believe that,” Sorcha said quietly.

“We’ve both heard the stories of how Vince operates. He isn’t going to take a gentle approach. Maybe now’s the right time for you to get out.”

“Sometimes I think I’d like to get away, to see more of the world but I can’t. Not yet.”

“Because of your sister?”

She sighed and thought about it. “I’m all she has. She gave up everything to protect us both, what am I supposed to do, just say—thanks! See you, now! I’m off to live a better life without you! I can’t do that. I can’t just run away and abandon her. It’s bad enough I’m out with you lot every night. She doesn’t like it; she thinks I’ll come to a bad end.”

“She might be right.”

“Ah, she worries too much.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, and her mouth instantly turned dry. “If it helps, I’m glad you joined up. Let’s be honest, you’d feel guilty if you left Blackrabbit,” he said. “And I’d miss you.”

Ahead of them, the great edifice of Hearthstone Manor loomed. The moon hung high and bright, and every window of the house danced with candlelight. Sorcha strained her eyes to catch any movement in the night. “There,” she said in a whisper and pointed to the westward side.

Three figures in black slinked through the hedges and up to a window. In the moonlight, a glinting of metal betrayed the Clockbreakers’ activities. They pushed a Ticking Ginny against the sash window. A horological device the size of a saddlebag, it produced two thin plates which slid out and pushed themselves under the window frame. A flick of a lever caused the plates to start rising by themselves, popping the lock and forcing the window open. One of the Clockbreakers shoved the window sash all the way up while the others packed away the device and leaned it against the wall. Then all three slipped inside the mansion.

Sorcha and Alfie Exeter quickly scurried across the lawn to the window. They were, as planned, joined by Ruth, who had watched for their movements, and then Frank and Clive, who had been watching hers.

Sorcha peeked inside. The Clockbreakers had already left the room. She went in through the window first. Clive tried twice to heave his metal leg up the windowsill. Frank grabbed it and tried to help, earning them both a withering stare from Alfie.

“Useless codgers,” he said in a hiss.

Clive jabbed his finger towards him. “You watch your tongue!”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Alfie said. “Wait out there, in case they get past us. You might actually be useful, for once.”

Sorcha checked the hallway was clear but before she could lead them from the study, Ruth marched out, mace in hand. In the hall, candles burned in their sconces. A rustling from a couple of doors down told them the Clockbreakers were already in the room with the safe.

Ruth rapped her mace against the wall. “Oi! Come out, you lot!”

The three young Clockbreakers rushed out of the room, aghast. They faced Ruth and the Watch in the hallway, fidgeting and squirming, uncertain what to do.

One of them, the biggest of the bunch, dredged up some courage and put his fists up. “Think you can take me, do ya?”

Ruth tutted. “I do, as it happens.” She pointed her mace behind him. “But I think he wants first crack at you.”

The Clockbreaker turned to find Vince filling the hallway. In his eyepatch and tricorne, he looked ten times the villain the poor housebreaker could ever hope to be. Still, he was game, Sorcha had to give him that. He balled his fist tightly and swung at Vince’s jaw. He missed. Vince grabbed him by the face and shoved him backwards into the wall. The Clockbreaker crumpled to the floor like a doll.

Another Clockbreaker threw off his cap to reveal his bald head, tattooed with a crown of daisies.

“Flowers,” Vince said. “Safe must be worth a lot if you’re here.”

With one hand, Flowers pulled a dagger from his belt and lashed out at Vince. With the other, he drew a small tube. He flicked a miniature striker on the top. The little horological device sparked and smoke began billowing from the tube, filling the hallway in seconds. Sorcha dropped low and crept closer towards Vince, trying to see through the smoke.

Flowers dropped the tube and again slashed his knife at Vince, who swerved and landed a swift punch to his side. Flowers wheezed and slashed his dagger again. While Vince ducked away, a frogblade shot from Flowers’s sleeve, catching Vince on the cheek and drawing a thread of blood. Coughing in the smoke, Vince grabbed wildly, catching Flowers by the arm and swinging him hard. Something crunched when Flowers slammed into the doorframe.

The last of the Clockbreakers struck out at Ruth, who dodged the clumsy attack. Alfie pulled his knife and charged at the Clockbreaker. The two wrestled. Alfie took a kick to the leg before being head-butted. The Clockbreaker broke free and lunged farther into the smoke. He returned a moment later, whimpering and crawling on the carpeted floor. Vince emerged coughing and rested his foot on the man’s back, pushing him flat.

Alfie raised his boot, preparing to kick the Clockbreaker in the face.

“I give up! Stop!”

Vince shoved Alfie back against the wall. “Man’s down! Leave him be.”

Alfie squared up to Vince, teeth bared. He barely came up to Vince’s shoulder. Vince didn’t say another word, just stared into Alfie’s eyes. Sorcha wondered if it came to it, how they would stop Vince from killing him. Should Vince decide to turn on them all, they wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“Alfie, leave it,” she said. “Please.”

The owners, who had been told to hide, crept downstairs when the smoke reached them, fearful their new home had caught fire. They were starting to question their decision to move to Port Knot, but Sorcha reassured them they’d have no more trouble. She helped them open some windows to clear the house of the Clockbreakers’ smoke weapon.

Vince had elected to be the one to hide in the house to await the thieves. Sorcha still wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he was no coward; that much was certain. They marched Flowers and his associate out of the mansion where they met Frank and Clive. Clive carried the Ticking Ginny under his arm. Vince heaved the unconscious third Clockbreaker over his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to slam the poor lad quite so hard, you know,” Sorcha said. The man was starting to come round, thankfully.

“Had to make sure he didn’t get any ideas.”

She took a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Vince. “For your face.”

He took it and dabbed his cheek. “Only a scratch. Gone by morning.”

“If we’re going to round up every gang member one by one, we really need to get a horse,” Sorcha said.

“Cart wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Oh, we’ve got a cart. Just no horse to pull it. I keep it in good order though. In case we ever do get one. I suppose you want to keep this lot locked up at the Watch House too?”

Vince nodded. A victory like this could only be good for him, and the Watch as a whole. When she’d been told who was coming to take command of them, she almost fell out of her seat. It was like putting a hungry wolf in charge of a flock of sheep.

“Why did you take this role?” she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking? I mean, I suppose I can understand the thinking behind it. You know the gang members better than anybody, you know the town, and you know the people. But why turn your back on the gangs, after all this time?”

Vince stopped and thought about it for a moment. He glared at her as if deciding between answering her or biting her. “Orphanage taught me to always clean up my own mess.”