The moment he had seen the wall come down, a single question had begun nagging at Justy. He stepped up to Owens. “When did she start spying for you?”
“Why do you care, Marshal? It’s all worked out nice, ain’t it?”
“Tell me! Was it before or after you came bleating to me in your damned carriage?”
A smirk. “A shade before.”
It was like a punch in the stomach. “You lied to me.”
“I told you Kerry didn’t mark any of the carts, like we agreed she would. And she didn’t. But she got Sahar to come out to us. And she told us everything.”
Justy turned to speak to Sahar, but she had disappeared, and all the other Mohammedan women with her.
“Umar knew about the wall,” he said. “One of your people talked.”
Owens jerked his head at the big man looming behind him, like a hole in the darkness. “That was Jonty here. Singing like a bird, on my instruction. He came up a few months back with two escaped slaves from Charleston. I didn’t have work for them, so they went with Absalom. He stayed in touch.”
Justy’s face burned. “Quite a scrap you came up with. Why the hell did you involve me?”
“You involved yourself, bach. I knew Absalom had some kind of land scheme cooking because one of my conks overheard young Mister Lispenard blabbing about it in his cups. I was set to take care of things myself, but then that lass got milled and you and Kerry started poking your trunks in, and that put Absalom on guard. I needed a diversion, something to keep him off balance. I estimated you’d do the trick nicely. And so you did.”
Justy shifted his gaze to the Bull. “You knew about this?”
“Not until yesterday.”
“And you were content to let it happen.”
The Bull grunted. “There’s not much can stop you, once you get going, Justice. If we’d given you your head, you’d have whiddled the whole scrap. We thought it better to just divert your attentions a nipperkin, and no harm done.”
“No harm?” The anger was like a spike in his chest. “I was nearly killed. Twice.”
The Bull’s face shifted into what passed as a smile. “You weren’t, though, were you? You’re a hard man to make easy.”
He looked at Kerry. She shrugged and said nothing. His face flared. “God damn, but I should arrest you all. For murder, for conspiracy, and for causing a riot.”
Owens smirked. “Self-defense, bach. We were conspiring, certainly, but only to rescue my cousin from a shameful fate.” He nodded at the corpses littering the courtyard. “These rogues just got in the way.”
There was a creaking, clattering sound above them. O’Toole led his troops along the platform and down the steps into the courtyard. His shirt and breeches were spattered with blood.
“All clear up top,” he said to the Bull. “But the cavalry’s here.”
The Bull nodded. “Right on time. How many dead?”
“Of ours? Two. Patsy Fagin caught a ball in the face. And that’s Jem Clancy lying there with his swede half off.”
The Bull glanced at the body crumpled at the bottom of the steps. “What about their lot?”
“We put down a handful or so. Plenty more with cracked costards and broken rammers. The rest put their hands up quick enough. Quiet as lambs now.”
“The muskets?”
“The lads have them.”
“Let’s pike then, before the swoddies get past the gate.” The Bull nodded at Justy. “That was fast thinking, blocking the gate like that. You did us a favor there.”
Justy said nothing. He watched, helplessness and uselessness and anger all curdling inside him like a bad dinner, as his uncle and Lew Owens led the troop of men through the withdrawing room door, most of them now armed with brand-new Brown Bess muskets.
Tanny was leaning against the giant, Jonty, still holding his hand. Her eyes were glazed, and her skin was gray. Kerry embraced her, but her arms were limp. It was like hugging a doll.
“She was in the room beside where we made the breach,” Jonty said. “She was tied up there.”
“Was she hurt?”
He shrugged, and followed the last of Owens’ men out of the yard.
Umar’s white robe was now black with blood. Justy dropped his cutlass and squatted beside the corpse, wincing at the grating sensation in his knee. He pried Umar’s fingers off his knife. He wiped the dirt off it, folded it carefully and slipped it into the pocket of his breeches.
He looked around at the litter of dead bodies. “Well, at least I know who did it this time.”
“You won’t go after her,” Kerry said.
“I won’t? And why not? She murdered a man. In cold blood. Right here in front of me.”
“You heard what he did to the girl.”
The girl. Justy thought back to what Sahar had said. That Umar had cast his daughter out. That he had prostituted her. That he had given her to a man. The man that had seen her last. That man that had probably killed her. But who was he? Umar couldn’t tell him. And Sahar was gone.
There was a grating sound as the door to the cell block opened.
“So there you are!” Lars grinned at him, relief behind his smile. Hardluck stood behind him, looking around the courtyard, his eyes bulging.
“Quite a mess you’ve made in here,” Lars said. He walked across and prodded Umar’s body with his toe. “Was this the big man, then?”
“It was.”
Lars grunted. “Good riddance, I’d say. Now, we’ve to be out of here, if we’re not to get snatched up by the soldiery. They’re right behind us. Is there another way out?”
“This way.”
Justy dropped his cutlass. He led the way into the withdrawing room. The scarred bodyguard’s corpse had been shoved into a corner of the room. There was no sign of Gorton.
“What?” Lars asked.
“Nothing.” Justy led them on, through the room, and into a short passageway that led to a small atrium. There was a huge hole in the far wall, screened by what looked like a large black sail. Justy walked gingerly over the rubble and pulled the sail to one side. He saw a small shack with a dirt floor and hundreds of bricks, piled neatly to the ceiling, with a pathway to the street.
They walked as quickly as they could through the lanes, Justy leaning on Hardluck, Kerry leading the way. Once she had her bearings, she took them along the side of Jericho’s walls towards the front gate. A crowd had gathered and they stood in the shadows, watching a group of cavalrymen dragging the smoldering remains of the carriage beyond the gate.
“Sorry, Hardluck,” Justy murmured. The driver smiled sadly and said nothing.
The soldiers looked nervous, and stood with their swords ready, as more people gathered to see what was going on.
“Where are this lot usually garrisoned?” Lars asked.
“Fort Washington.”
“They got here quare fast then, didn’t they?”
An officer strode out, snapping orders at the soldiers. He pulled himself up onto a white mare. The moonlight caught his face, showing one good eye and a white hollow with a mass of scar tissue where the other eye had been. And Justy felt another piece of the picture swim into focus, as clear as printed words under a magnifying glass.