Straining, Cole pulled away two large burlap sacks from the cart that smacked the ground upon landing. It hadn’t been the best of days – he had yet to eat anything decent and now the sun had gone down, he found his patience waning as much as the rising moon. Having to ride back in the cart was bad enough. The roads around the district were a terribly varied affair for anything with wheels, and the pulling horses were becoming uncooperative, but the worst was clatter-clatter-clatter of the wheels that caused the onset of a headache. So by the time when it came to unloading the cargo, Cole was ready to speak his mind.
‘I don’t know why you’re so tired – the horses did the hard work,’ Alvina said scornfully as she unloaded their latest cargo.
‘I fail to believe that you don’t consider these sacks to be considerably weighty.’ He took the back of his hand to his brow, watching Jack unlock the factory’s front double doors with his keys. Finally they levered open, letting in a crack of gaslight light to reign inside. The factory floor was awash with angles, those of the tabled stations for each worker and the imposing straight-edged machines they utilized. A cacophony of other machinery, including spinning mules, accompanied the rows of tables, with accompanying paraphernalia reaching up to the ceiling along a system of rigs and pulleys.
Alvina had detached the cart from the horses and pushed it backward, its waist-high wheels crunching over gravel.
‘It’s not,’ she retorted, thumbing in the direction of the cart. ‘Would you like to push that thing around and find out what heavy really is? The horses don’t complain.’
Cole set about tying the horses up at a hitching rail beside the adjoining coach house, letting them enjoy a trough of water whilst giving them a departing pat on the sides in thanks. For a moment he thought he heard a whisper on the wind, but paid it no mind, instead assuming it to be lingering echoes from nearby businesses.
‘They lack the ability to speak,’ Cole stated.
‘Absolutely.’ Alvina took the weight of one end of a sack and waited for her cohort to get moving. ‘And if they were blessed with such a thing, they too would tell you to stop your griping.’
Cole finally endured the burden of his assigned sack and dragged it along the ground as Alvina tossed hers over her shoulder. They made their way along to the goods elevator at the opposite end and just in time too. Cole relinquished his cargo and puffed his cheeks out.
‘If we could not be paid in rocks in the future, it would make me much happier,’ he complained, watching Alvina share no such exertion placing hers down.
‘I’m just that much stronger than you. If I had to presume as to the cause, I would say it was down to all that time you spent shuffling paper about. Those weak little pen fingers … Besides, they’re not rocks. They’re uncut gemstones.’
‘They’re uncut, encased in said rock, ergo they are rocks. Plus they’re not what I would call precious.’
‘Do you want to argue this with Jack? He would be more than willing to listen, though I doubt he’ll be as tolerant as I am.’
Cole quietly relented, though not enough to restrain some under-the-breath grumbling.
Alvina and Cole dragged the sacks into the elevator to send them to the basement. She yanked on the metal lattice, loaded the score on and then closed it behind them, stabbing on the elevator control with a finger.
Nothing happened.
* * *
Alvina pressed it a number of times further, but still the lift failed to cooperate.
‘What’s the hold-up over there?’ Jack called from the other end of the factory as he bolted the doors up, first top, then bottom, then secured the centre with a much firmer heave.
‘Nothing!’ Cole loudly replied, testing it, this time with the flat of a clenched fist. ‘A bit of trouble with the lift, that’s all.’
The unit gave a noisy pop, but nothing else. The lift stubbornly refused to move. Alvina struck it again, much firmer this time. Maybe the button was playing up. Alas, the elevator refused to budge. Alvina cursed, pulled the lattice back and searched for a screwdriver left on a nearby workbench. Maybe a wire had come loose or something – she wasn’t sure and wasn’t particularly in the mood to tolerate this trouble.
‘Get the lights will you, Cole?’ she asked, hands drifting around in the dark with only the streetlights for guidance.
The light switch snapped upward with a flick of a finger but like the lift, all there was, was disappointment and darkness.
‘Brownout?’ Cole asked.
‘Maybe.’ Alvina paused her searching and any subsequent breathing. Something felt out of sorts. It wasn’t that the day shift had tidied their tools away. It wasn’t even that the elevator had broken down. The elevator had never broken down. For the lights to go at the same time was of considerable coincidence – or concern.
Alvina courted the latter. That old familiar feeling crept down her spine. It was a slow tingle, a feeling of unease that tried to coax a shudder, though not without significant resistance. It quickly grew to dread.
Shapes passed at speed outside, their long shadows shifting along each rhombus of illumination.
‘Jaaaaack?’ Alvina called out, ceasing her searching for a suitable tool. At the far end of the factory, Jackdaw was clearly oblivious to what she had noticed, busying himself with things of lesser importance.
‘I’m hearing a lot of talking and not enough –’
‘It’s a raid!’ Alvina blurted out, pulling Cole by the arm out of the lift completely. There was sudden booming all around, with both of the front and the back doors being banged upon – not by fist, but by something large, something designed to break them down. The rear doors that Jack had recently secured began to give at the locks from the impact before a crack announced their failure.
A sudden shallow tin whistle danced on the air, reaching attentive ears. This was joined by another, then another until a crescendo had erupted, screaming in unison, the unrelenting call of Bluecoats, who brandished their weapons and demanded the surrender of all inside to immediate effect.
Alvina watched as Jack immediately withdrew the Pendulum and unleashed everything it held. He was met with a furious onslaught of bullets in response, sending him sprawling for cover. Alvina went for the side door, finding it already occupied with the law, leaving the pair no option but to advance up the stairs to the upper floor. Feet pounded the steps in desperation.
* * *
Bullets peppered over sewing machines, fracturing some beyond repair. Jackdaw hunkered down behind a station, keeping to the dark for some semblance of cover. The only illumination was caused by the streetlights, producing shards of orange that flooded across the floor. From his position, he could make out a number of Bluecoats moving inside, four from a quick count but he assumed there would be more.
Escape was paramount. He checked both points of ingress, each blocked by advancing bodies. Eight now. Alvina was correct. This wasn’t a chance search by the law, this was a full-blown raid, a raid that he was completely unready for, which made the situation more perilous. He shuffled from station to station, weapon drawn but preferring not to fire. A single death, like he had preached during the bank job, would make the law blood-hungry and this was already dangerous enough without coaxing madness from the Bluecoats.
Tonight, it seemed like this rule was going to be broken.
* * *
Cole’s head pounded. He thundered up the stairs as bullets fractured brickwork and ricocheted off steel.
‘Cole, come on!’ Alvina called ahead in the darkness, her silhouette just visible from the outside gaslight that streamed through the windows. Suddenly her outline merged with another, before both were illuminated in a terrible flare. The shapes tangled together. A woman’s cry ripped through the air. A Bluecoat swore repeatedly.
Cole’s feet had a will of their own, as did his rage, as he crashed between the pair to separate them. Suddenly fingers lashed out at him, clawing in desperation, struggling to make fists. Cole’s own limbs thrashed in retaliation, scrambling against the thrusting weight pinned beneath him. The clip on Cole’s holster announced its opening with a snap. It wasn’t Cole who had done so. Panic set in. The weight squirmed once more.
A shrill bang rang out.
Breathing became strained and ragged until the weight beneath Cole squirmed no more. He heaved, gripping the iron with both hands after turning it back on the Bluecoat whose twitches had already begun to recede. The revolver clattered free onto the floorboards.
Alvina grunted, propping herself up against a wall.
‘You’re h-hurt,’ Cole stammered, squinting closely at the wound.
‘Figured as much. I can still run so it’s no real concern.’ She offered a strained smile, which faulted as a shock of pain ran up her arm.
Gunshots chattered downstairs.
‘A good thing too,’ she added.
‘What about the others?’ Cole got up, retrieving his weapon. Already he could hear the Bluecoats’ calls getting louder and louder. Suddenly, a number collected at the bottom of the stairwell, calling for the pair’s immediate surrender.
‘There’s no time – they can look after themselves. Go for the windows!’ Alvina demanded, charging down the corridor. She fired repeatedly at the window at its end, shooting out the frosted glass, though she slowed so that Cole could overtake her. He leapt forward, smashing through before crashing on an angled corrugated rooftop. He rolled with speed, over and over before flying from its lip and landing in the street in a heap. Thankfully the Bluecoats were too busy swarming inside and securing the doors to notice him. He got to his feet, wincing from the impact, noticing that he was alone. At the window Alvina waved her hand back and forth.
‘Get moving, you don’t have any time to dawdle!’ she demanded, looking down the corridor as the pounding of boots neared their climax.
‘What about you?’
Alvina licked her lips and seemingly looked to relish the next few minutes. ‘You don’t do what we do without having contingency plans. Go, I’ll buy you some time. Now run!’
Cole did so and ran into the night as fast as his legs could handle.
* * *
Back inside, Alvina managed to reload just in time as the door to the stairs exploded open with Bluecoats. In their eagerness, one prematurely opened fire.
A hot buzzing skimmed past Alvina, cracking the brickwork beside her. She fired in retaliation, causing snaps of retuning fire to begin. She ducked around the corner, thankful for the darkness to provide her with some degree of shelter. A nearby fuse box was punched open and hands ran over the findings inside. Of course, the Bluecoat who had been up here had disabled the lights. Thankfully, not permanently – just removed a couple of the fuses. Her hands snapped them back into place, then felt around for the master lever. Before throwing it through, she ran over a brass switch that had been wired up to a number of elements inside. A call to hold fire was issued and the shooting stopped.
‘I suggest you step out – slowly – and relinquish your weapon! This building is surrounded and by the authority issued to me by the regional marshal, you are hereby required to surrender without any further provocation.’ The order drifted through the darkness.
Alvina chuckled at the lunacy to herself. She checked her grip on the addition to the lighting fuses and prepared to flick it.
‘Guys? You should know you’ve made a big mistake here.’ She laughed. ‘I was minding my business, doing no wrong, and suddenly out of nowhere, you make me duck bullets? I always kept a promise that anyone who opened fire on me would be met with something in kind. Don’t be taking my defence for aggression, now!’
‘I apologize, miss, but seeing that you’re on the premises of these suspected individuals, we must assume you’re guilty by association. The body at my feet is tantamount to that.’ The Bluecoat nudged the fresh corpse of his kind with a foot as the others dragged it away.
‘Oh I’m guilty of many things, sir. But I am not one to hide. If I have your word that your guns are down, I will come out and we can square this out.’ She paused, listening intently for the answer.
‘You have my word,’ the Bluecoat called out. Hammers were drawn back in the pitch.
Alvina inhaled slowly through her nose, before exhaling patiently through her mouth with her eyes closed.
‘And you have mine,’ she said.
With one hand she pulled the master breaker lever into place. Lights snapped on all over the premises, from the upper-floor corridor to the factory floor beneath. It caused such surprise, some of the Bluecoats covered their eyes, now momentarily blinded by the bulbs, no matter how dull.
That wasn’t Alvina’s intention, but an agreeable addition to the proceedings. The real surprise came when she gleefully flicked the brass switch, which had been wired up just in case a diversion was needed. Like now.
With a snap, every light bulb in the building began to hum and glow furiously. As each Bluecoat looked up in puzzlement the booby trap showed itself. Each glass bulb in the building exploded violently in flashes of fire, spraying anybody underneath with red-hot chunks of glass. Confusion reigned and Alvina took this opportunity to charge for the corridor window and dive out, skidding down the rooftop with glass crunching beneath her.
Her attempt at landing gracefully was thwarted by an uncooperative leg and resulted in her awkwardly crashing down into the street. She scrambled over the road, her arm now bleeding more than she cared for and her ankle sending a shock of pain with every step.
All manner of crashing emanated from inside the factory, accompanied with the shattering of glass and the bellowing of smoke. She paused, foolishly, and thought for a moment of Jackdaw – just a single moment – until her own survival became more pressing.
Still, somehow Alvina made it into the darkness and set off into the night to seek shelter in whatever form it took.
* * *
Jackdaw witnessed the bulbs glow profusely, turning the night-soaked factory floor into an artificial day. Good girl, he thought to himself. Alvina had kept her head, kept to the plan just in case things went wrong. It was one of a few booby traps the factory was lined with, but particularly effective in this scenario. He protected his head with his arms, scrunched down on the floor as the lights burst sequentially into flame. Glass peppered the ground around him, slivers bouncing off the Pendulum still in his hand.
When the first pieces struck, Jack jumped up with his weapon out and broke his promise of passivity. Some of the Bluecoats had been caught by the small fireballs, stumbling in their ignited clothes. Some harboured injuries from the red-hot shrapnel. Anyone else was a fair target to him.
The revolver kicked violently, bowling four backward before returning fire forced him down again. He didn’t need to get to the doors just yet, but instead to the red lever handle that was connected to all manner of pulleys and belts that served the workers with material. With a hard yank, a second plan came into play. The release brought down the contraptions with an ear-splitting crash, landing on some of the intruders and causing a calamitous riot with others in confusion.
By utter luck, one of the wheels used to hold ropes of yarn struck a machine and flew off, smashing through one of the few windows on the ground floor before striking the kerb and stopping. A chance had presented itself. The Holy Sorceress had not abandoned him yet.
Praising his fortune, Jackdaw sprinted at full speed through the black, broken only by the glow of fire, and dived straight out the window. The sill was too high and the remains of the window itself too prominent. As he flew, a section of twisted steel sheered his clothing, tugging him off balance so when he landed he did so heavily on his arm. What felt like hornet stings ran through it as glass took residence in his flesh, but no matter. The Bluecoats had yet to take the streets. He too made it into the surrounding alleys and formulated his escape.
* * *
Hidden in a drainage tunnel, Cole felt as if he was becoming one with the concrete enclosure. His hands shook violently from the adrenaline, his body still sweating and uncooperative, despite holding them tightly together for warmth. He wondered on the others and how they fared. Did Alvina manage to follow at some point? Hopefully Jack made it out without cuffs.
And who knew where Blake was, but equally, Cole wished for his fortune too.
Now came the pressing matter of what to do next. There were a number of places where accomplices had done work for them, safe houses that had or still did harbour goods or contraband on the Jackrabbits’ behalf. But who of these were compromised? Was one on the take? Were they all? Cole rubbed at his temples.
There was only one place Cole could retreat to. The streets would be swarming and it seemed entirely possible that if the factory was being raided that they would have positive identification on those who were coming and going.
So Cole ventured to the only place he knew where, he hoped at least, the law wouldn’t be watching.
The last time Cole was at Cutter’s Inn was when he had first met the Jackrabbits and given its owner a black eye in the process. Since then he had avoided the occasional drinking session there, instead deciding to continue with busywork or organizing the ledger. He felt somewhat embarrassed that he’d harboured such fury on their first meeting but what choice did he have?
The alley was drenched in shadow. The night sky was clear, the stars bringing with them a stifling cold. He passed a cat that hunted for its next meal of mouse, which would be in abundance, and he took to the door. The windows of the inn harboured a glow. Someone was inside at least. That was a good start to turning his luck around.
Cole struck the door three times. Then, the door slit open, revealing Cutter’s strained eyes. He took in the sight of the man, dirtied and scuffed but standing and in need of sanctuary.
‘It’s you,’ Cutter grunted, remembering all too well the last time he’d darkened his doorway. But he was likely also keenly aware that Cole was one of the Jack’s men and with it came certain obligations.
‘We’ve had a problem. The safe house was ransacked by Bluecoats and I need a place to lay low.’
Cole struggled for breath for what felt like an eternity until Cutter stubbornly relinquished the new chain from the door.
‘Just a moment.’
As the door opened, Cole strode inside, though Cutter refused to move. Instead, out of sight previously but now very much on display, he grasped a gun that was pointed directly at Cole’s stomach. Cole froze as the door was closed and triple bolted, all the while the gun moved around him.
‘Put that thing away. Are you still sore about that black eye I gave you? Now’s not the time for you to be petty.’
‘Not at all.’ Cutter dismissed the comment, instead focusing on the most important thing. ‘Just can’t be too careful. Were you followed?’
Cole watched the barrel move back and forth.
‘No. At least I don’t believe so. I was chased but that was a long while back. If anyone was shadowing me, they were led about in circles. I doubled back on myself. Lost them all. Ate some glass in the process, but better than the alternative.’ He dabbed at the sting over his forehead, its presence only now apparent. A thin cut oozed spots of blood on his fingertips.
Cutter paused and tilted his head to the side but kept his eyes very much on the man before him.
‘He says he’s clean. What’s your opinion on the matter?’
* * *
Hidden out of sight around the door, Jackdaw snorted smoke through his nose, attempting to allay his concerns with the thickest cigar Cutter could provide. It stank the room out with a pungent haze but he persevered. His jacket was ripped and dirtied, his knuckles raw and his lip bleeding. He tapped the cigar ash an inch from the ashtray provided, heaping it onto the table’s veneer. Not that he cared. That’s what Cutter was there for.
‘This one I believe. He’s terrible at lying,’ Jack grunted, taking the cigar to his lips once more. As Cole stepped through the haze, his first exclamation was about the trouble.
‘It sounded like they had you cornered. We tried to reach you, but were trapped on the upper floor.’
‘We?’ Jack asked with a patient puff.
‘Alvina and I.’
Cutter took a number of bottles from the bar rack and placed them down on Jack’s table. There was no need for glasses in this circumstance.
‘Just you two, huh?’ Jackdaw mumbled, checking the labels for the worst thing on the table. Forgoing the more agreeable Ignatius Royal, a half bottle of Poison Burner was unscrewed and taken to his lips, the sourness inside gulped at speed. He had no intention to remain sober in light of this catastrophe. Cole watched with no small measure of concern as the bottle was placed back down among the clutter and the entire selection offered. Begrudgingly, he complied and took the smallest measure of Cainberry’s Sugarcane rum. This, for him, wasn’t a time to be drinking, especially when heads needed to be level and tempers kept in check.
‘What are we doing now?’ Cole waved the smoke away, agitated enough to pace the floor. Clearly Jack failing to show such urgency bothered him. Sitting around would do nothing.
‘We’re waiting,’ Jack stated resolutely.
‘For?’
Jack paused with his bottle in hand, giving it a swirl. His eyes flickered in thought. ‘Whatever transpires.’
Cole seated himself opposite, settling himself into the chair’s recess. He was of the opinion that it was going to be a long night.
He would be correct.
An hour before midnight, the door was rapped loudly and with urgency. Cutter took his place once more and cautiously opened the door a crack with weapon drawn.
‘Put it away, you idiot. I don’t have time for that,’ someone called from outside, easing upon the barricade. Cutter stepped aside as Alvina barged her way inside the moment the door was unlocked.
She brushed past her uncle with a thunderous look upon her face, pale and strained. Her feet took her to the bar, which she put her full weight upon. Her sleeve was shredded and bloody where she had caught a bullet. Immediately Cole kicked back his chair and rushed over. Alvina tried to shake the injury off.
‘I’m okay, I just got tagged. It’s just … just a scratch.’
Surprisingly, Cutter dragged a basket of medical supplies he had gathered after Jack’s arrival. He predicted correctly there might be injuries when the other Jackrabbits arrived. He encouraged Alvina to sit on a stool, probably the only compassion he’d ever showed the woman in the presence of others.
He was still her uncle after all.
‘Here, sit, right now.’ Hands dug into her shoulders, forcing her down. All protests were vigorously ignored.
‘I said I’m –’
‘I said now! No complaints!’ Cutter demanded. He examined her arm, removing the shredded overcoat. Within moments he was padding the wound with gauze. It was a blessing that the bullet went right through. Cole assisted, bandaging her arm, taking care to not cause any further sense of discomfort. He did so quietly, holding her arm out gently and straight to make the task easier. She spied Jackdaw still at the table, on his way to being considerably liquored up.
‘Jack! Are you okay?’ Alvina wheezed.
‘Those assholes just tried to make me more pretty than usual. Nothing serious,’ Jackdaw grunted over a bottle, red-eyed and sullen. ‘You?’
‘It takes more than this to keep us down, right, boss?’ Her teeth chattered as the stitching began. She compressed her eyes and whimpered aloud.
Cole held her hand in reassurance, the fingers clamping down so firmly he thought his hand would break like tinder.
By the time Alvina was patched up, she had taken her place at the table and attempted to sedate herself with as much alcohol as the human body could hold. Cutter had joined them all in diminishing his stock. Jack had smoked so much he believed he would be sick and all the while Cole sipped on his drink, nowhere near as inebriated as he should be, nor as calm considering the time that had passed since the raid.
One of their number was still missing.
Blakestone’s arrival was naturally dramatic. His pounding on the door was almost desperate, threatening to take it from the hinges. Cutter gave him the same treatment and the same suspicion. The moment Blake got inside, it dawned upon him that he was the last of their contingent to arrive. He removed his hat and overcoat, seemingly devoid of any damage, and waved away the haze that Jack had filled the room with. They all stared at him, letting him lead the conversation.
‘What the hell happened? Nobody knew where we were, nobody! The few who did had been bribed to look the other way. It stinks! Someone ratted us out.’
‘Or the law got lucky,’ Cole flatly said.
‘Their fortune ain’t that good. I’m telling you, it was a rat!’ he insisted.
‘Where were you? I was on the factory floor. Those two were upstairs. So where were you?’ Jack seethed, turning his attention to Blake. Everyone shifted uncomfortably as Blake uncharacteristically stumbled over his words.
‘No, none of that, I asked you a question,’ Jack repeated, rising from his seat, his feet far steadier than he believed they would be. ‘Where. The hell. Were you?’
‘I was doing a pickup like you asked, remember? I was delayed – they needed to get the money together so I accompanied to make sure they didn’t run. I arrived back and saw the commotion from outside.’
‘And it took you this long to get back here?’
‘I thought I saw one of the Sanders hanging around. Figured they might have had something to do with it.’
‘You saw someone, did you? Someone skulking around looking all suspicious-like.’ Jack paced over with purpose.
‘Yeah. Promise.’
‘You promise?’ Jack mocked the statement. ‘You promise, do you? On your word and everything?’
‘Sure …’ Blake shimmied backward until his back was to a wall.
‘Because your promise just ended up with us losing everything in that safe house! You didn’t think to try and help those of us who were inside? Figured you would just leave us to it? Where were your eyes? Were you just looking in the other direction, from the get-go, or was someone paying you? Because where I’m standing, like you said, this whole thing stinks and I smell something bad … Oh so bad on you.’
‘Jack, don’t do this,’ Alvina mumbled through her pain but was ignored.
‘You really think I would do that?’ Blake seethed. ‘Go back on my word and sell everyone here out? See reason!’
‘I don’t know. Every time you open your mouth, you’re either contradicting me or generally pissing me the hell off. Would you do me over, Blake? Shall we find out? Do you fancy talking or do I have to coax honesty out of you?’ Immediately Jack unclipped the Pendulum from its holster and thrust it upward. The under blade threatened to prick Blake’s skin. Jack’s eyes bugged in their sockets. ‘Let’s find out exactly how loyal you really are, shall we?’
Cole reached out with a hand, only for Jackdaw to angrily snap at him. ‘Back, Little Fish! I won’t tell you again. This is a conversation you don’t want to be part of.’
‘Cole …’ Alvina warned, beckoning him back with a wave of her fingers, lacking the strength to do much else.
The Pendulum’s blade lightly bit into Blake’s square jaw, parting through the salt and pepper beard, its point scratching at skin. Despite this, it wasn’t enough for Blake to hold back.
‘I’m pretty tired of your bullshit,’ Blake hissed, all too aware of how jittery Jack’s trigger finger was.
‘Bullshit is it now?’
‘Yeah. Talking big, sending us out on stupid-ass plans. Idiotic, half-baked jobs that are likely to get us killed just to fuel that ever-growing ego of yours. You’ll do anything to protect the impression of the great Jackdaw, to hell with us little people. Every day it’s new trouble and we’re doing this thing without Wilheim’s backing now he’s dead. He was keeping idiots like the Sanders in check and now he’s gone, we have to contend with their shit on the daily. Need I remind you of the mess with Donovan …’
‘Think you can run this outfit better than me?’
‘I wouldn’t be getting people shot at so frequently I tell you that much. I wouldn’t be wasting my time with idle threats either. I would get things done quickly so we could get back to work.’ Blake leant in closer until the tip of the blade cut into his skin. ‘And I sure wouldn’t be accusing my own of betraying the only thing he sees of worth in his life.’
‘Oh I’m doing a lot more than that if you don’t spill a confession. What, don’t I pay you enough to keep those lips sealed?’
Jack was wild-eyed, clearly aflame at wanting to find out the hows and the whys for the Bluecoats coming down upon them.
‘You’re insane if you think I would wrong you,’ Blake grunted.
‘Maybe I’m insane for thinking that you wouldn’t … I don’t see you putting up any kind of a fight. Figure if I were wrong, you would be a little more adamant about the fact.’
‘Jack, stop it!’ Alvina called out, now quite disturbed at what was transpiring.
‘Quiet!’ came the reply in a roar.
‘If you’re so sure, how about you stop dancing around and pull that piece you’re holding on to like the only fucking thing that makes sense in this whole affair.’
‘Oh, bait me more. That really puts me at ease.’
Cole bravely stepped forward, his hands out and speaking with the utmost respect. Rational thought was clearly not at play here, for the attack had rattled them all, none more so than Jackdaw himself.
‘Jack, come on now. We’re all in this together, and Blake was simply lucky to not be caught out. If this was a deliberate deception, he knew that he would be the most obvious choice and you would be on him like this in a heartbeat. You’ve had your disagreements in the past but this … It makes no sense for him to have come back, does it? It would be stupid, right?’
Blake nodded, maintaining eye contact with Jack, who observed for an admission of guilt in whatever form it may take. A flicker of the eye. A tell-tale bead of sweat. Any single excuse would have been welcome.
‘Yeah. As the kid says. Stupid,’ Blake agreed.
‘And I’ve not been with you all for that long,’ Cole continued, ‘but I do know this: you don’t endure stupid people, nor hire them. He’s loyal. We all are. Take a moment to breathe. We’re all reeling from what’s just happened. We need to think. We need you to be calm. We need you to work out what to do next. Just lower the gun, all right?’
It took far too long for Jack to come to his senses but come he did. His grip relaxed and his weapon withdrew, leaving Blakestone to massage his throat vigorously. Air had never been so welcome in all his life.
Blakestone paid the slightest of nods in Cole’s direction, a silent thank you for his assistance.
Jack refused to sit down. He refused to drink. He refused to do anything in fact, except pace about, going from one end of the room to the next, all whilst visibly struggling with how to correct all this. There were too many factors at play, too many variables that were invisible to him and trying to work out a solution to this mess relied on an uncomfortable amount of guesswork.
‘What now?’ Cole asked, accepting a generous drink from Cutter who passed them around, eroding his own creed on keeping things sensible.
Blake interrupted, rubbing his throat over and over. ‘They’ve got our books …’ he croaked.
‘The ledger won’t be an issue. I used a cypher to encrypt what’s in there.’
‘When did you do that?’
‘Did you even see me when I was cooking the books?’
‘No.’ Blake shrugged.
‘There you go then.’
‘Cole suggested it,’ Jack muttered. ‘I’m glad he did so now. As long as it can’t be read by lawmen then we’re plenty safe. There’s a lot riding on that it holds up to scrutiny. It better do so, I’m telling you that much …’
‘It will, I promise you. I’ve learnt to be better. The more pressing concern is that, asset-wise, what have we lost?’ Cole asked.
Alvina fielded the question, patting her now bandaged arm, checking to see how flexible the limb was.
‘Weapons. Ammo. Personal effects. Clothes. Money. Sanctuary. The whole damn lot.’
‘I know …’ Jack grunted, staring at his feet as if the floor would provide an answer.
‘They’ve got the contraband,’ Blake added.
Alvina’s voice began to tremor. ‘T-They’ve got the root. It’ll be impounded and protected by more than we can handle. It’s as good as lost.’
‘I know!’ Jack looked visibly shaken. Mentally he attempted to coordinate a plan, something to salvage this absolute mess. Maybe their hideout was compromised too. Maybe they’d been followed back here. He withdrew, oblivious to the others talking to him. It took Alvina’s prompts until Jackdaw exploded in impatience.
‘Boss. Boss! Jack!’
‘WHAT?!’
Alvina grimaced in concern, not for his outburst but from the simple name she uttered.
‘… Donovan.’
Blood drained from Jackdaw’s face, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.