“You are a pisser! Sure, I can find better men to lay you dead. In all fairness, I should shoot you right now so that my record stays clean. But given the circumstances, I can find a better use for you.”
“What makes you think I’m keen for using?”
“Your lack of options. As it stands, you’ve got me, Darwin, or the grave. Assuming you’re not keen for the grave I’m sure I can field a better offer than Darwin.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll give you your life, your freedom, your job, the whore you’ve shacked up with. I’ll even throw in Orel and his wife.”
“Orel?”
“I had him kidnapped days ago, when I figured out the bit about you breaking into the building. Not that you’ve checked in on them or anything. They’re sitting in non-storage right now, blindfolded and stewing in their own piss. Miserable bit, that.”
“That’s not right.”
“Cost of doing business. Anyway, you were supposed take refuge with them after I destroyed your place, that way you’d find them gone and understand the futility of your situation. But rather than going to your friend and compatriot’s house, you took up with whores.”
“Happens.”
“Indeed, I had to track down the whorehouse, then the whore’s actual house, then get someone to nick her. That’s three kidnaps on your behalf. The expense has been entirely unreasonable.”
“You were saying something about a deal?”
“I’ll release all of my hostages, including your lady friend. That’s step one. Step two, I’ll twist over whoever the judge of your murder trial is. Let’s face facts Jolly, even if you survive my wrath, no magistrate in England will let you live for the murder of Dr. Saxon. You’re persona non grata. What was your solution, flee England?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Uncross it. We have extradition treaties with all civil nations and you are not the blending type. The only option for freedom is a bent trial and I can provide that.”
“Go on.”
“Step three, you can come back to work for me. Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve clearly underestimated your skills as an investigator and enforcer. There are members of this firm who are entrusted with certain, let’s call them tasks.”
“Like wearing silly masks and shooting at blokes in a penny theater.”
“Sure.”
“Can we substitute that provision for cash. I’d prefer not to come back to work here.”
“No deal. You know things about this operation that can’t be talked about. You’re either with us or you’re dead.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“You have my terms.”
“And for this I have to kill Charles Darwin?”
Lord Barnes’ face took on a look of genuine irritation.
“Are you mad? Kill Charles Darwin? The man is a national treasure! While I live, nothing is to happen to the Great Naturalist!”
“But he’s…”
“I’m honored to have a combatant on the level of Darwin. Once he’s gone I may as well off myself from boredom.”
“If I’m not set against Darwin, then what do you want with me?”
“Your quarry is Jacques Nouveau. Locate him, observe him; if he figures out Saxon’s secret and records it, shoot him and bring me the records. If he doesn’t, subdue and bring him to me anyway. Nouveau is the price of your freedom.”
“And Mary?”
“Mary, Orel, Emily. Nouveau brings this whole thing to an end for you and yours.”
I pressed my luck.
“What about expenses? Cash on hand. I could use the help.”
Lord Barnes stood up and poured himself a drink, half vodka, half purple stuff. He did not offer any to me.
“You have between sixty and eighty pounds in your pocket as we speak. You’ll manage.”
It did not surprise me that he knew this. Lord Barnes, the master of information.
“Do I get my guns back?”
“Sure.”
“Any leads?”
“I would say Darwin knows where he is, but you already know that. Be on your way, don’t disappoint me. I get emotional far too easily.”
Lord Barnes finished his drink and poured another. Still no offer to me.
“Another thing,” he said. “I have other searchers out there. Some you know, some you don’t. If anyone brings me Nouveau before you, our deal is forfeit.”
“And my friends.”
“They’ll be forfeit too.” He held up his glass. “Cheers.”
Eight
My former colleagues escorted me to the front entrance. Silver put his good hand on my shoulder.
“Know this, Jolly. No matter what Barnes says, I will be the end of you. Your death will come by hand, tomorrow, the day after, a week from now. I will take you unawares, from behind.”
“If you come at my behind, at least have the decency to buy me a proper meal.”
I retrieved my guns from Bells. He handed me the rounds separately. Silver stared daggers at me. I continued my little speech.
“Front, back, side, whatever. The next time you come for me bring more of your friends. I’ll be sure to find something larger than a hotplate to bring down on your thick skull. Off you go then.”
I waved them off. Silver looked like he had more to say but his friends pulled him back. The thief catchers returned to their beautiful building. I took a leisurely walk, formed my thoughts, had a brisket plate and a pint of dark ale at the St. George and Dragon.
Mary was safe, or at least relatively safe. Lord Barnes was a monster, but he’d at least abide by the rules of civilized warfare regarding prisoners. She’d be fed and unharmed. Same with Orel and Emily. I found myself back at my apartment. If Barnes was off my back, if I was back to playing his lackey, I supposed my flat would be safe. Relatively safe as there was always the Silver issue, but hey, life’s a gamble. My place was still a broken mess. I made a cup of tea and watched the gaslights of late evening London. Had myself a quiet moment. Went back to sleep on my terrible pile of feathers.
I woke up late the next morning. Feathers stuck to my hair and burn wounds. I carefully removed each one so as to not cause the embarrassment I endured the last time I’d slept in feathers.
Outside, the day seemed quiet, still. It took a moment for me to realize that today was Sunday, the Sabbath. No good Anglicans working on this day. This was a day for baths and nice clothing and seeing how comforting the Lord can be on a sunny morning. My skin was tight and irritable. My new advice to friends, if I had friends, would be to avoid immolating yourself. It’s a right pain in the arse.
I looked up Dr. Doyle in a Central Bureau Directory and hired a hansom to his office. Thankfully, he was not a Sabbath observer.
“Good morning, Doctor.”
“Mr. Fellows, good to see you walking about.” His face told me this was a lie. In fact, he looked quite put off by my presence.
“How’s Mary?” he asked.
“She’s fine.”
“Is she?” The anger crept into his voice. His right hand was in his doctor’s bag clutching God knows what. “I stopped by her place this morning. Didn’t look all right,” he said.
Of course. “Look, Doctor. She’s in light danger. No more than I can handle. In fact, my capacity to handle matters is the reason for my visit. Got any of that salve for my skin?” Doyle took his hand out of his goody bag and opened a wall-sized blackwood medicine cabinet. He produced three jars and stacked them on a table.
“Any more of that seven percent solution, Doc?”
“You took both doses at once, didn’t you?”
“Guilty.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t die of a heart attack.”
“I’m lucky I didn’t die of a lot of things. What does ten quid get me?”