Albert checked and re-checked the supplies in the storeroom. He wrung out a fresh cloth and wiped down the tables and chairs that he’d pushed back into a corner of the room to accommodate their guests. The place was already spotless, but he needed to do something—anything—to distract him from the change in curfew. Isobel and Ben had been gone for most of the day and they wouldn’t have heard about the new time.
Albert dropped into a chair with a sigh.
A strong smell of meat filled the tavern as Sofia opened a can of food. She portioned it out into several bowls laid on a table, then picked up a fork and carried a bowl over to Albert.
‘Please. You need to eat.’ She pushed the food at him; he waved it away. ‘They will be back. There is still time.’
‘Fifteen minutes until curfew, Sofia.’ Albert glanced at his watch again. ‘I will eat once I know both of them are safe.’
Sofia sighed and returned to her original table.
The door opened, and Ben and Isobel walked in.
Albert narrowed the distance with three long strides. He pulled Ben into a tight hug.
‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Marcus has changed curfew and I didn’t know where to begin to look for you.’ Albert’s voice rose as he struggled to contain his emotions.
‘I’m sorry for worrying you,’ said Ben, ‘but I had to help Isobel. Her husband... There was a man in Long Island. It wasn’t far. I was the only one who could take her there.’
The anger and tension subsided. Albert hugged Ben again. ‘Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I need to know where you are at all times. Do you hear me?’ He pushed the boy away, but held on to his arms. ‘I thought Marcus had...’ He couldn’t finish his thought.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said again, looking contrite. They were the same height. Albert had to remind himself that Ben was a young man, not a kid. He hadn’t been a kid for a long time.
Albert looked at Isobel. ‘I hope you found what you were looking for in Long Island, my dear.’
Isobel nodded.
‘Good. Well when we can, you and I need to talk. There’s a woman asking about you.’
‘You found Jenny Waterson?’
‘Yes. Quite by accident, I might add. I’m interested to know what she wants with you. It’s too late now, though. We’ll talk tomorrow. Then, I’ll take you there.’
‘I must see her now.’
‘Not now. Curfew’s almost here, or did you not just hear the speech I gave to this young lad?’
Isobel’s strange eyes locked Albert in a stare, compelling him to look away.
‘Yes, of course. But it’s important we meet. You don’t understand. I’m—’
‘I’ll hear no more about it. Curfew is moments away. You may be fast on your feet, but you’re not that fast to make it to Jenny. Besides, the markets are closed for the night.’ He ushered Ben towards the stairs and walked Isobel to the door. ‘I know you’re anxious, Isobel, but I’ve had a long day worrying about you two and I need to rest. Please, Sal’s waiting on you. She won’t sleep until she knows you’re safe.’
But Isobel didn’t move. ‘What about the woman, Jenny? What did she say exactly?’
He shrugged. ‘Not much. I promised to bring you to her, and I will. Drop over as early as you can in the morning so we can talk.’
Isobel yanked the scarf off her head and tucked it into her pocket. She opened the door, stepped outside and broke into a sprint. Albert watched after her blurry trail that headed toward Central Square. Even though she had not returned to Earth to be made a prisoner, he was impressed by how she’d adapted to life in the neighbourhood. Perhaps her meeting with Jenny Waterson would be her true purpose here. Albert just hoped it wasn’t a trap.
He closed and bolted the door. Ben went upstairs without complaint; Albert moved, with a slower step, his arms and legs burning from the exertion of carrying Hans on the stretcher. Maybe it was better that Ben hadn’t witnessed that. He could only imagine how Ben would react to Albert’s humiliation, and who he’d make pay for it.
The Italians spoke in quiet murmurs while Sofia tidied away the bowls. She carried them upstairs; Albert had granted her access his kitchen. Just her. They needed boundaries if they were all to get along. A small bathroom just before the storage room meant the Italians had everything they needed on the ground floor.
He returned to an unoccupied table and leaned against it before easing his body into the chair. The Italians ignored him.
Business had been dead since his new house guests had arrived that morning. The air felt thick and cloying with the strain of the life support. How could he run a business if the patrons couldn’t breathe? He fished his mask out of his pocket, pressed it to his mouth, and took a few deep breaths to relieve the pressure on his lungs.
Albert considered what repercussions Marcus might inflict if he couldn’t recover the stolen money. But the more he fought for breath, the harder it became to care about the Kings and their eccentric moods.
A loud clatter and soft swearing drew his attention upstairs. Sofia must have dropped one of the bowls. The Italians huddled together under the blankets, muttering in their native tongue. Albert rubbed some of the ache out of his legs and arms; his muscles were not used to carrying men on stretchers. He closed his eyes just as the chatter died down and a quiet lull set in.
A bright light flooded the tavern. Albert’s eyes shot open. The suddenly alert Italians stared at the front window.
‘Stay there.’
He crept to the window and checked outside. One of the military vehicles had its headlights trained on the building. It sat there for a while, engine humming. The blackened windows made it difficult to tell if Marcus was inside. Albert half-expected the car to do a sweep of the tavern with its infrared scan. Why else would they be outside other than to pick up stragglers out after curfew? But Kevin and Ben were safe home and Isobel was hopefully at Sal’s. The car didn’t move.
Kevin appeared at the foot of the stairs. ‘What are they doing?’
‘Get back upstairs. Go to your room and lock your door. Tell Ben to do the same. I don’t know what they want.’
Kevin ran up the stairs. Albert watched through the window; he was sure the occupants in the car could see him.
A loud bang at the back of the property startled him.
He stared at the back door, where the Italians had propped their beds. The tavern’s brightness dimmed as the car moved away. When it was gone, he put on his gel mask and crept round the back. The area was a mess, just the way it always looked: broken plastic furniture everywhere, the unfertile ground as hard as a diamond.
The car had clearly been a distraction. Albert searched through the junk, then turned back to see something that caused his breath to hitch.
A large ‘X’ had been painted on the tavern wall.