I stepped into the alleyway and leaned against a wall. Leaving David had been more difficult than leaving Tony, and I felt drained by the effort.
To my surprise, the carriage hadn’t moved. I got in the carriage, grateful for the chance to rest, and we set off.
A few blocks later, the carriage stopped.
I peered out of the window to my left. We sat in a cul-de-sac of abandoned buildings; the street was dark.
“You won’t see much out there,” the driver’s voice from the other window startled me.
“What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?”
“Frank told me to expect a woman, but I never thought it would be you.” The man displayed my list, the goggles around his neck shifting as he did so. “Bryce Fabrics. Market Center. The zeppelin station. This sounds like a going-away list. Even sent a note with a servant.” He shook his head. “What a way to leave a man.” He frowned at me. “Just like a fucking Pot rag.” Then his expression became calculating. “Trying to get away unseen, are you, Mrs. Spadros? It’s going to take a lot more than a dollar to keep me quiet.”
“How dare you?”
He opened the door, his hand resting on the top edge. “A young, pretty woman, all alone. Seems I can dare whatever I want. For starters, you can give me your ticket money.”
I considered the ten dollars in my handbag. No, that was for the Pikes. “I don’t have any money with me.”
“Then your ticket.”
“My ... friend bought the tickets. He awaits me at the station.”
“Well, he’ll just have to wait his turn.” He leered at me, then a wicked grin spread across his face. “No, I don’t think I’ll share. After I’m done, you’ll just disappear in the river. And I’ll tell whoever asks you wanted out at ... that saloon you go to.”
I stared at him, appalled. Were the drivers in the city talking with each other about their fares?
“You’re all whores there in the Pot, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “This is as good a place as any to get started.”
He climbed into the carriage; I opened the door behind me. “Frank wants me? Why aren’t you bringing me to him then?
He grabbed my right hand, but I pulled free, stumbled, and fell out of the carriage onto my back.
“I’m sick of being his butt-boy. I’m getting some of my own, and to hell with him.” He lumbered round the back of the carriage, loosening his belt. “You’re not getting away that easy.”
I unfastened my holster right before he got to me, pulling my gun as he hauled me upright.
He stuck his face in my hair. “My, don’t you smell nice.”
I shoved the gun in his gut. “You can let go or you can die.”
“Baby wanna play rough, does she?” He grabbed my hair with one hand, his zipper with the other.
I shot him, the sound muffled by his belly. The horses reared. He gripped my hair as he fell, pulling me on top of him.
I untangled my hair from his fist, then ran. My hands shook, my heart pounded.
Then I stopped. He still had the list.
The horses stomped about, but the street was empty, so I crept back and found the list in his pocket. He lay on his back, staring, eyes wide, mouth open.
The gods-damned driver tried to violate me!
I gave him a good kick in the head.
I also got my dollar back.
I shook out my clothes and hair as I walked, so I didn’t smell of gunpowder. Plus it helped to be doing something; otherwise I thought I might start screaming.
As it was, my breath sounded much too loud. Fog lay on the streets, which made the night seem even darker. Any noise made me jump as I hurried along.
I got to where the streetlights worked. In the darkened storefront window, my hair was wild, my face streaked with tears.
I wiped off most of my makeup. Remembering instructions in Anastasia’s book, I used some of my eye makeup to make my nose narrower, my cheekbones even more pronounced than they were, to add circles under my eyes and a cleft in my chin. I put my shawl over my head like a cape.
A block over, I found a liquor store. Unlike my father’s, it had a bar and even a few tables. I needed a drink. “A double bourbon, neat,” I told the girl, who was maybe fifteen.
She snorted. “I thought you Dealers didn’t drink.”
I laughed at the idea. “I’m not one of the Dealers.”
But in the mirror behind the bar, with my shawl up over my head, I did look like one. This girl had probably never seen one of the Dealers in her life. “You got any cigarettes?”
“Sure.”
The girl handed me my drink, my smokes, and my change, and even gave me a light. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost eight. I had plenty of time.
And Tony would never find me here.
I walked ten more blocks before I found a taxi-station, the fog deepening as I went. The driver squinted at me. “Blessed Lady, I would never take your money.”
I lowered the pitch of my voice. “May the Dealer smile upon you, my son.”
The man beamed.
I gave this driver the address from the letter Thrace Pike sent me, hoping it would at least be close to his home.
At the bridge, the guards stopped the carriage. “We’re looking for Mrs. Spadros. Have you seen her?”
So Tony was searching for me after all. Or perhaps Roy was.
“No, sir. Got one of the Dealers bound for the Plaza here.”
I held my breath as the guard glanced inside, but he waved us through.