He checked the warehouse, found Turner gone, then went to the Norwegian alehouse. He arrived a few minutes after the four o’clock bell. Lars was in the same snug with three of his crew. The three sailors looked dirty and ragged in the clean space.
“Any luck?” Justy asked.
“Charlie saw her.” Lars nodded at one of the sailors.
“Did you speak to her?” Justy asked the lad.
“Aye. I said she was tae be here at four o’ the clock, just like Lars telt me.”
“And what did she say.”
The sailor’s face reddened. He reached out to pick at the pool of wax on the table. “She telt me to go box maself.”
Justy smiled. “Well, that sounds like Kerry, all right. Where was she?”
“The Bowery. South end. Near McGillivray’s dance hall.”
Justy reached in his pocket and took out a handful of coins. He gave one each to the other two sailors and an extra one to Charlie. He was rewarded with a wide grin.
Lars cuffed Charlie gently around the back of his head. “Don’t spend it all in one shop.” He jerked his head towards the doorway. “Curfew’s at nine, remember.”
The three young sailors scrambled their way out of the snug, as quick and lithe as ferrets. Lars waited until their chatter had faded. “I’m only going to say this one time, and then I’ll not say any more about it.”
Justy rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still cooking about Turner.”
Lars slapped his palm on the table. “I don’t give a goddamn about Turner.”
“What then?”
The pine bench creaked as Lars leaned back. “We did some bad things in Ireland, lad. Terrible things. All of us. Me included.” He gave Justy a long stare. “But we didn’t enjoy it.”
“You’re saying I did?”
“I saw that look in your eye.”
Justy looked down at the table. The back of his head throbbed. He felt dirty, as though he had fallen into a sewer. As though he stank. Lars was right. A part of him, deep inside, had thrilled with the power he had held over Turner.
“What’s wrong with me?” His voice was a whisper.
Lars reached across the table and took him by the shoulder. “Look at me.”
The big man’s beard bristled, golden in the candlelight. His eyes looked like the open sea. “No one comes back unbroken from what we’ve seen and done. No one. Some are broke so badly that they can’t stand to live no more. But of the ones that live, there’s two kinds. There’s those who find a way to mend themselves and live out their lives. And there’s those that stay broken inside, so that the horror and the pain and the evil takes over. Those men turn into something else. Something you don’t want to be. So you have to find a way to mend. If you stay broken, you die inside.”
The waitress, Lise, appeared at the door of the snug. She placed two brimming pots on the table. “A boy came. With a message for the red giant.” Her mouth twitched. “I told him the giant is not such a big man as he seems.”
Lars snorted. “Norwegian women are an acquired taste, Justy. The kind of thing you can go off pretty quick, if you wit.”
He glared at Lise. “So what’s the message? Or are we to be treated to more of your jesting?”
She matched his stare. “You’ll be treated to nothing unless you behave with some grace.”
There was silence in the snug. Lars stood. He placed his right hand on his chest. “Forgive me, my bird, for speaking to you so.”
The slightest incline of her chin. “You are forgiven.”
Lars beamed like a small child.
Lise glanced at Justy. There was a triumphant look in her eyes. “The boy said you can find your friend where she first met your father.”
She picked up the empty mugs and left.
Justy placed a hand on his chest. “I promise not to tell anyone your secret,” he mocked.
Lars smirked. “I believe that’s what the financial folks call a hedge.”
He took a long drink and wiped his mouth. “Now, come on. You’ve an appointment to keep.”