For three days the Jackrabbits kept as low a profile as possible. The papers were riddled with speculation about the shoot-out with unknown assailants and the group had, wisely, kept themselves inside. Alvina’s uncle only ventured out for food should it be desperately needed for even now messengers and delivery boys were unreliable. It was easy to expect one to be on the take. All the while Jackdaw attempted to deduce what happened, and what their next step should be.
Their number, bar one, were all under one roof and it didn’t take too long until their missing number tracked them down.
‘I’ll say this for you, Jack,’ Ralust grunted as he strolled inside, the front door hastily locked up behind him, ‘you sure know how to garner attention.’
‘What’s the damage?’ Jackdaw asked, not entirely convinced that he wanted the answer to that. He joined Ralust at the bar, pouring one of Cutter’s best.
‘The good news is that apparently the marshal deems you to be just an annoyance. There’s no word of him forming a unit with the express desire to haul you all off in chains. It turns out that the raid was brought about by an anonymous tip. I asked around but nobody was giving up how it came about. I suspect someone saw you with the take but that’s just my opinion.’
‘How’s the heat?’
‘I wouldn’t go back to the factory, that’s for sure. Lucky for you, the foremen are still on your side. They had already spoken to the workers upon hearing of the commotion so there’s no possibility of them being questioned. Of course, everything’s been impounded. I hope for your sake you didn’t keep anything that could personally identify you to the Bluecoats.’
Jack shook his head. ‘That’s not a possibility.’
Alvina chipped in. ‘We’re ghosts anyway. It’s not like we have a need for a damn diary or some such.’
‘It’s a fine way to get a rope necktie,’ Blake scoffed.
Silence befell them as they all looked towards Cole.
‘What?’ Cole took offence at the implied slip-up. ‘Let me guess. You’re suspecting me, just because I’ve been with you the least amount of time, to have done something incredibly foolish to incriminate myself?’
Blake narrowed his visible eye. ‘Remember, you said that, not us.’
Cole scowled. ‘Of course not! To even insinuate such a thing is laughable.’
‘Not hearing a no there …’ Alvina teased, puckering her lips.
‘What about that ledger of yours?’ Ralust enquired. ‘Figure it’s going to hold up to the scrutiny?’
Jackdaw intervened. ‘We discussed that already. It’s watertight, unless there’s been a considerable slip-up on that front.’
‘Here’s hoping that’s true then.’ Ralust turned back to the table and gave a pained sigh. ‘Well now, Jack, the next step is up to you. Care to divulge how we’re getting out of this mess?’
‘There’s nothing we can do for the time being. We hunker down and we wait.’
‘Wait?’ Ralust tilted his grizzled head to the side, his glasses slipping halfway down his red nose. ‘What for?’
‘The inevitable.’
* * *
It took seven days holed up at Cutter’s before Jack’s prediction came to pass. By this point the Jackrabbits found their isolation frustrating. Cole especially had found things difficult, considering that being in such constant close proximity with one another inevitably led to arguments. Staying underground was one thing. Doing it with company was a difficulty all in itself.
A single pale envelope was slid beneath the door, unnoticed by everyone until the following morning. Cutter handed it over, straight-faced, to Jackdaw the moment it was discovered. It was hurriedly opened and read. The contents caused him to slump on a counter stool and curse, first quietly, then violently loud, launching the crumpled paper at a wall. Despite being expected, the summons was nonetheless despised.
Alvina took it upon herself to unfold it and handed it to the others in turn. Jack retreated into himself. He didn’t want to converse, found very little interest in food and – shockingly – even snubbed the drink.
The others gave him a wide berth until, in the early hours, Alvina decided she’d had enough. She didn’t intend to confront Jack, not in the conventional sense at least, but whatever he was doing seemed to only be good for riling the rest of them up.
Alvina stepped out onto the inn rooftop, overlooking the blackened streets that gaslight had yet to touch. Some of the nearby bars, traditionally rowdy, had long fallen silent, their patrons sleeping off what passed for booze. Treading along the roof, she approached the hunched figure illuminated only by the orange glow of a lit cigarette, like a gargoyle atop a church buttress.
‘Hiding away, huh?’
Jack said nothing, exhaling a wisp from his lips. Alvina held her hand out and was offered the smoke, which she accepted. She took a draw and handed it back with a thanks as cool as the air.
Jack’s eyes were not on the various figures that wandered through the night, but instead tilted up to the stars. Alvina took in the sky herself.
Thin glitters of white cut erratically through the night. It was the season for falling stars of course, and maybe if she was in any sort of mind she would have relished the sight more affectionately, like she had in the years before. They were beautiful. They were always beautiful, year after year, when the Holy Sorceress’s tears for all living things fell upon the land. As legend went they were tears for the multitude of sins committed. Fitting, she mused, believing that there would be a good few additions by the time this affair was through.
‘I’m coming with you to this thing,’ she stated. ‘You need back-up and going in alone will do no good for anyone.’
‘You’re staying here. Nobody shadows. There’s no use the lot of us getting …’ Jack trailed off, his eyes moving from structure to sky, until he gazed at the flashes overhead.
‘You’re a fool,’ Alvina rebutted. ‘Doesn’t the great Jackdaw accept help from his own?’
Jack snorted smoke through his nostrils. ‘This isn’t about helping. This is about staying alive. Everyone staying alive.’
Alvina knew the folly of objecting, especially in this instance. ‘What are you doing up here?’ she asked instead.
‘Nothing in particular.’
‘Nothing isn’t going to get you any sleep. That’s something you sorely need if you’re going to make this appointment of yours. Can’t have you arguing your case dead on your feet now, can we?’
Jack ignored the suggestion, instead choosing to suck the cigarette to a stub.
‘What the hell happened, huh? It came out of the blue. I didn’t see it coming. I should have seen it coming. It should have been obvious! Someone got paid, someone who saw a better offer to pass on the information, some sort of stich-up by …’ By now Jack was babbling, unable to commit to a single solid decision as to the cause of their misfortune. He conceded, ‘And now we’re stuck.’
‘Figure your future career as a clairvoyant might be disappointing.’
‘Now is not the time for humour.’
‘Point taken.’ Alvina receded onto her arms, looking at the skyline. A small dart of white traced the sky before glittering to nothing. A shorter one soon followed to its left, marking the black.
‘I never thought it would come to this,’ Jackdaw mumbled.
‘He might give you a slap on the wrist. You know, one you live from.’
‘We both know that won’t happen.’
‘Then what else could you do? Run? There’s no shame in that.’
‘Donovan would have hunted me down as soon as word got out. It doesn’t bear thinking about what would happen if I was caught, neither,’ Jackdaw solemnly muttered. The repercussions weren’t worth thinking of, yet his mind raced with possibilities despite sensibilities suggesting otherwise. No, if Donovan found him, he wouldn’t be hurt: he would be cut. He would be butchered, just like every other traitor and snitch. His corpse would be hoisted on a lamppost for all to see, as a warning to others under Donovan’s employment.
‘It’s the end of the way we do business.’ Jackdaw flicked his smoke down into the streets. ‘You can smell it in the air.’