Kevin waited ten minutes after the lieutenants arrived, letting them stew a bit. It wasn’t so much that he was trying to make a power move, but rather that he wanted to convey a particular mood. He wanted to give the appearance of a man who had unexpectedly taken the throne and was working as hard and as fast as he could to keep things afloat. He wanted to be seen as grieving, yet overcoming that grief. A person who’d been rocked by unexpected events just like everyone else, but who was strong enough to move the city forward.
When just over ten minutes had passed, he walked through the long corridor in the center of Sabin’s base of operations—his base of operations now, he supposed—and made his way to the conference room. They were all seated around the table, waiting. Their expressions were about what he would have expected. McDowell was stoic as usual, his face betraying nothing. Wade tapped his foot impatiently. Peter wore a scowl that he was making no attempt to hide.
Kevin watched through the window in the door for another moment. Then he drew a deep breath and stepped inside.
“Thank you for coming, men.” He paused, almost making the mistake of sitting down in Sabin’s chair. No. Not yet. He moved to his usual seat, leaving the one at the head of the table empty.
Peter was the first of them to speak. “I can’t believe Sabin’s gone. He was a hell of a warrior.”
Urich nodded, then cocked a thumb at the scar running across his face. “I’ll never forget the day he gave me this. Plenty of men had tried to do this and worse over the years, but he was the only one to actually pull it off. We had our disagreements over the years, but that earned my respect.”
“We all had our disagreements with him,” McDowell said. “Blood was spilled on both sides when he went up against my crew. All that was forgotten the moment I passed him my key.” He paused, looked each of the other lieutenants in the eyes. “I swore fealty to him. We all did. That means an attack on him is an attack on our honor. We owe it to our city to hunt down the bastard who did this and enact justice, like they would have in the Chicago of old.”
A few of them shifted in their seats, uncomfortably. Revenge was a common motivation in Wicker City. But justice? That was a concept from the old world. Perhaps that was the point. Justice would be an ode to the world Sabin had tried to bring back to them.
Peter turned toward Kevin. “The man has a point. How is the hunt coming? I assume you would have told us if you had the killer in custody, but you must at least have some leads.”
“The last twenty-four hours… Well, you can imagine.” Kevin shook his head sadly, his eyes on the table.
“We really can’t,” McDowell said, his voice like ice. “You were there. We weren’t. Talk.”
Kevin nodded. Though he’d rehearsed what he’d say in this moment, he did his best to appear frazzled, a man struggling to put together a coherent sentence. “You heard pieces, I guess. A stranger. A knife. Sabin. We were in his quarters. We’ve known for a while that someone was after him, so when this stranger started killing men, we retreated to the warehouse next door. The stranger followed us there. Killed four of the men. Got inside. I positioned myself between him and Sabin, of course, but…” He gestured to the injury on his leg.
“I heard he was from the Elsewhere,” Delvin said.
“Yes. At least, I’d never seen him before. And his style of dress wasn’t of Wicker City.”
Peter leaned forward. “So you’re telling me that a man single-handedly took out four guards and overpowered both you and Sabin, two of the most storied fighters in Wicker City?”
“I don’t know how to explain it either. He was fast. Wiry. Maybe nine times out of ten I would have been able to stop him. But this time I came up short.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
Finally, Wade spoke. “So what happens now?”
“We continue the hunt,” Kevin quickly answered. “McDowell was right. Call it revenge or call it justice, but this man must be found.”
A murmur of agreement went around the table.
Kevin continued. “At the same time, we have to assure the city that their safety and stability aren’t in danger of being upset. The closer we can keep things to the status quo, the better.”
“And in this status quo, who exactly will sit in Sabin’s seat?” Peter’s voice was skeptical. “Who will hold the keys?”
“For now, it has to be me,” Kevin answered. “I’m not saying that out of ego, or some desire for power. But you swore your fealty to Sabin a few nights ago and to me as his second- in-command. Those vows aren’t dead just because Sabin is.”
“Not sure I agree with your logic,” Urich said. “The man we swore it to is dead.”
“So what do you propose? Chaos?”
“Not chaos,” McDowell said. “You give us back our keys, and we each handle our own districts for now. When things settle down, we can agree upon a new warlord.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow. “You really think that’ll happen peacefully?”
Peter chuckled. “That remains to be seen. But peaceful or not, that is what’s going to happen.”
Kevin looked around the table, a realization dawning on him. These men weren’t coming up with this plan on the fly. They’d already discussed it. “You met without me?”
“Last night,” McDowell confirmed. “The matter’s been decided, Kevin. Give us our keys.”
Kevin blinked hard, trying to understand. It didn’t make sense. If they’d already decided, why go through with the ruse of this meeting? Unless they wanted to kill time… “My crew.”
“Our people have been talking to every person in Sabin’s inner circle while we’ve been in this meeting. They’ve explained the situation. Hopefully most have agreed to our proposal. Those who haven’t have been taken into custody by now.”
Kevin’s mind was reeling. Sabin’s crew was the strongest in the city. It would crush any of the lieutenants’ crews. But all of them together? Even Sabin’s army couldn’t fight them all. “What’s this proposal?”
“We keep you here under house arrest while we investigate,” Peter said. “If your story checks out, you’ll be given the key to the north gate. Sabin’s key. You’ll be allowed to serve as lieutenant to whoever ends up in control. If your story doesn’t check out…”
“Then we’re back to that justice thing I mentioned,” McDowell said.
For a moment, Kevin sat frozen. If he allowed this to happen, he’d never leave this building alive. He needed to act now. His hand crept up, grasping the pistol he kept taped to the bottom of the table. In one swift motion, he pulled the gun free, aimed at McDowell under the table, and fired.
McDowell shouted in shock and pain, grasping his midsection.
Kevin knew he only had a moment. While all the lieutenants turned toward their injured friend, he sprang up from the table and sprinted out of the room, moving as quickly as he could on his injured leg. Risking a look back, he saw Wade, the youngest and fastest of them, moving toward the door. Kevin didn’t have to beat him in a long footrace. He just needed to get to Sabin’s quarters first.
He did so, but it was a close thing. He ducked inside, locking the door behind him. The strong lock would buy him valuable minutes, or so he hoped. Making his way to the closet, he once again returned to the hidden door where he’d led Sabin the previous day. It would take them time to break the lock, and even more time to find the hidden door. He was almost certain that he’d get away now.
His mind turned from escape and to hiding. Where could he go that the five most powerful warlords in Wicker City wouldn’t find him? He could think of only one place.
He’d go there and hole up for a few days. Lick his wounds. Plan the next step. He was still the only person in the city that knew about the coming shipment of New Gold. Once he had that, he’d be untouchable. Then the lieutenants would wish they’d agreed to his initial proposal. The next time they sat with him at that table, his terms would be far less favorable. He’d make them grovel. He’d make them pay.