by Stella Riley
‘As,’ nodded Eden, ‘he most assuredly will. I don’t know what these supposed secret documents are … in truth, I’m not sure they even exist. But someone is willing to go to any lengths to get them – which means that Lydia won’t be safe until he’s found and stopped.’
Tobias stood up and stretched.
‘God, Eden – why not just admit that you don’t want the Militia involved because, as far as you’re concerned, it’s bloody personal.’
‘Hardly,’ snapped his brother. ‘Since I’ve never laid eyes on any of the missing women --’
‘Not them,’ grinned Tobias. ‘The widow.’
Aubrey sat up suddenly and frowned at Eden.
‘Oh. I didn’t … that is, are Lydia and you --?’
‘No,’ came the thoroughly exasperated reply. ‘There is no Lydia and me. As usual, Toby is doing his damnedest to be annoying.’ Eden drew a sharp breath and loosed it. ‘Do you think we might stick to the business in hand?’
‘By all means,’ agreed Gabriel, banishing the glint of amusement in his eyes. ‘So … no Militia. But if it’s just to be the six of us, I think we’d all like some idea of how many we’re likely to be up against. Presumably you counted the men you saw?’
‘Yes. Four men in the warehouse, a ginger-haired giant in Quinn’s office and a fellow called Skinner who accompanied me there. But I don’t think we can assume there won’t be others. Skinner’s gaming cronies in the Three Cranes are also Quinn’s men and I daresay they’re not the only ones.’
‘So we could be tangling with at least ten or even more?’ asked Major Moulton.
‘It’s possible. I imagine their numbers fluctuate.’
‘In that case – and since you plainly want this kept to men you trust – I’ll have a word with Sergeant Trotter. You know him. And as it’s for you, he won’t need asking twice.’ Ned looked around. ‘Anybody got any other suggestions?’
There was silence for a moment and then Aubrey said tentatively, ‘Peter? Lydia’s new footman? He’s something of a pugilist, I believe – and he’s certainly built like one.’
Eden nodded. ‘Ask him – but make sure your sister doesn’t catch wind of it. If he agrees, that brings our strength up to eight – which, since five of us are trained soldiers, ought to be enough. Aubrey … I’m assuming you can handle a sword and know how to fire a pistol. Find out what Peter’s weapon of choice is, will you?’ Then, when the other man nodded, ‘Very well, gentlemen. I’d like to do this tomorrow night so now we’d best formulate a plan. And the first hurdle we need to negotiate is how – since the door will be barred and bolted and there aren’t any windows – we are to get inside.’
* * *
On the following evening under a clear sky lit by only the merest sliver of a moon, Eden’s little army made its way to the Steelyard. In order not to draw undue attention – since everyone was armed to the teeth – they did this in three separate groups. Colonel Brandon, Nicholas and Aubrey approached from the shadows of the Fishmongers’ Hall; Major Moulton led Sergeant Trotter and Peter down from Thames Street, between the two All Hallows churches; and Tobias, hands shoved carelessly into his pockets, trailed Colonel Maxwell along the wharves from Dowgate, whistling.
Eden could hear that light-hearted whistling even though Tobias was several hundred yards behind him. In one sense, this was a comfort. In another, he wondered where the hell his brother got his ability to sound so damned cheerful.
They’d spent a lot of time debating the various ways of getting into the warehouse.
Ned had suggested creating a disturbance that would have Quinn’s men opening the door to investigate. A small fire on the wharf, he said, should be sufficient. Gabriel had pointed out that such a disturbance wouldn’t only bring out Quinn’s men but God knew how many others as well. Also, considering the amount of flammable material along the riverside and the fact that they didn’t want to risk burning down half of the Steelyard, starting even the smallest fire probably wasn’t very wise.
Tobias had asked why they didn’t just hammer on the door and shout ‘Fire!’ anyway.
Nicholas had reminded him that, since the door had a hatch they could squint through, they’d know there wasn’t a fire without bothering to step outside.
So, in the end, they’d agreed on the simplest solution of all.
‘Quinn offered me a job,’ Eden had said at length. ‘I’ll let them think I’ve come to accept it. Once the door is open, I can hold it while the rest of you come up.’
‘On your own?’ demanded Tobias. ‘Bugger that!’
Which was why Tobias was now closing the gap between himself and his brother and letting the knife slide smoothly from his sleeve to his hand.
Eden risked a glance over his shoulder and then banged on the door, keeping the pistol hidden at his side. Although he couldn’t see them, he trusted that Gabriel and Ned had their troops in position. There were a number of problems with what they were doing, of which overpowering an unknown number of men and getting the women to safety were the most obvious. Another complication was that they’d agreed not to kill anyone if it could be avoided. But the thing that was bothering Eden the most was the gnawing possibility that Quinn himself might not currently be inside.
The small grille in front of him opened and Bones peered out at him.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘You again.’
‘Me again,’ Eden agreed amicably. ‘Is Quinn about?’
‘Might be. What do you want with him?’
‘That’s between me and him.’
‘Not if you want this door opening, it’s not.’
‘If you must know, he offered me work and I reckon I could do worse than take it.’ Eden stamped his feet and wrapped his arms around himself. ‘Are you going to let me in or not? It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.’
Bones gave a bark of laughter. The grille slammed shut and there were sounds of bolts being withdrawn. Toby arrived wraithlike at Eden’s shoulder and the faces of Gabriel and Major Moulton materialised from the shadows at either side of the building.
Eden barely had time to make a tiny gesture, telling the others to wait before the door swung open. Easing through it, he paused almost imperceptibly but just long enough to establish that three men were busy stacking crates in the far corner. Then, without further hesitation, he smashed his fist into the doorkeeper’s jaw.
Tobias caught Bones and lowered him soundlessly to the floor as Gabriel and the others ran past him.
‘Nice punch,’ he murmured. ‘But witches’ tits? I’m shocked.’
Eden ignored him as a number of things happened at once.
Behind him, Sergeant Trotter re-barred the door. Quinn’s workers slammed down their loads, pulled out knives and swung to face the intruders as if ready to charge; but before they could do so they found themselves facing Colonel Brandon and Major Moulton, swords in one hand and pistols in the other, at uncomfortably close quarters.
‘Not a sound,’ said Gabriel softly. ‘And if you want to see tomorrow, lay down your weapons.’
For an instant they froze, their eyes flickering from Eden’s troops to each other and back again. Then with obvious reluctance, they dropped the knives. A nod from Gabriel sent Peter to gather them up.
Tossing coils of rope to Ned and the sergeant, Tobias strolled forward saying, ‘On the floor, boys. Be sensible and no one need get hurt.’
A few steps away, Sergeant Trotter peered into a still-open crate and said, ‘Come and see this, Major. Must be two dozen pistols in here – all nice and shiny-like.’
Ned looked and muttered, ‘Bloody hell. Where are these going?’
Aubrey and Nicholas, meanwhile, were making their way quietly up the stairs with Peter, having put the knives out of harm’s way, following in their wake.
Good, thought Eden. Everyone’s sticking to the plan. If the women are upstairs, we can be out of here in less than ten minutes … which is somehow beginning to seem too easy.
Le
aving Ned and Tobias to truss and gag the workers, Gabriel emerged at Eden’s elbow and said, ‘Time to find Quinn?’
‘Yes.’ He pointed. ‘In there.’
Gabriel nodded and the two of them made their way to the door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Eden knocked with seeming politeness. Then, when nothing happened, he took a step back and put his foot to it. It shuddered but remained stubbornly closed.
Gabriel raised his pistol, preparing to shoot the lock but Eden shook his head.
‘Bolted,’ he said. ‘Which means someone’s inside and they know --’
Without warning, the door swung wide revealing the Rooster … grinning and wielding a claymore in a two-handed grip.
‘—we’re here,’ finished Eden. Then, ‘I want to see Quinn.’
‘Aye? But mebbe he doesna want tae see ye.’
‘And maybe I’m not giving him the choice. Is he here?’
‘He isna, no.’
‘No? Then you won’t mind us taking a look.’
‘Och, I’ll mind fine … and ye’ll no be coming in here.’
‘Think again,’ said Eden. And launched an immediate attack.
His blade was met with a force that nearly dislocated his shoulder. He grunted a curse and fell back a step, hoping the massive Scotsman would advance on him and thus leave the doorway clear for Gabriel. The Rooster stood his ground, laughed and beckoned.
‘Ye’ll no get tae Quinn that way, ma wee laddie. Ye’ll have tae take me first.’
‘Fine,’ snapped Eden, advancing again with a deceptive sweep that suddenly became a lunge.
Once again, the long reach of the claymore blocked him. The blades hissed and slithered to a disengage and the Rooster remained firmly planted in the doorway. From upstairs came the sound of someone kicking a door in and a woman’s muffled scream.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Eden,’ said Gabriel irritably. ‘Just get out of the way.’
And when Eden did so, he pointed his pistol at the Scotsman’s heart and said, ‘Lay down your sword and step aside. A few words with Quinn and we’re gone with no harm done.’
‘Och no.’ The Rooster shook his head. ‘I dinna think so.’
‘Don’t be a fool, man. You can’t argue with a bullet.’
‘I ken ma duty.’ His hands gripped the hilt of the massive sword more tightly. ‘Ye’ll no get in while I’ve breath in ma body.’
‘Your choice,’ shrugged Gabriel. And fired.
The claymore went clattering to the ground as the shot took the Rooster in his right shoulder, causing him to grunt and drop to his knees. Eden wasted no time in kicking the blade aside and, with a brief, muttered apology, used the hilt of his own sword to knock the big Scotsman unconscious.
‘Good,’ remarked Gabriel, competently re-loading his pistol as he strode past into Quinn’s office. And then, ‘Ah. Perhaps not.’
Eden spun round, looked – and swore.
The room was empty.
‘Where the hell has he gone?’
‘Perhaps he was never here,’ Gabriel suggested.
‘He was here. That hulking brute is his personal body-guard.’ Already on the move, Eden started scouring the room for a possible exit. The walls were lined with rough shelving crammed with boxes and ledgers. ‘There’s another way out of here. Has to be.’
‘Very possibly. But we won’t --’ He stopped when Eden began yanking at the shelves, dislodging a miscellaneous avalanche of paperwork, assorted objects and dust. ‘Eden. We don’t have time for this. The man’s gone and finding out how he managed it is the least of our worries.’ Turning back to the doorway, Gabriel looked up to the galleried landing. ‘Nick and the others are bringing the women down now. We need to go. If Quinn did get out of here --’
‘I know.’ Abandoning his attempts to discover if a door was hidden behind the shelves, Eden flew across to Quinn’s desk. ‘Take charge, will you? I’ll be there in a minute.’
Gabriel cursed under his breath and strode away.
Nothing of interest lay on the incongruously polished surface of the desk and the drawers opened at a touch. All, that is, save one. Without hesitation, Eden shot the lock and pulled it wide. Inside, lay a heavy pouch of coin … and a thick, leather-bound book. He snatched up the book and shoved it in the breast of his coat. Then, jumping over the Rooster’s recumbent form, he ran back into the warehouse.
Hemmed in by Nick, Aubrey and Peter, three wild-eyed and dishevelled women stared at him. The youngest of them was clinging to Peter as if her legs wouldn’t support her. The other two stood shoulder to shoulder, their backs straight and their jaws set.
Eden shot them a swift, reassuring grin and, swiftly re-loading his pistol, said, ‘We’re going to get you home, ladies. Are any of you hurt?’
‘Not so as you’d notice,’ said a very pretty blonde. ‘Tired, hungry and full of pins and needles from being tied up – but we’ll get out of here if we have to bloody crawl.’
‘It shouldn’t come to that.’ He turned to Gabriel. ‘All set?’
‘Yes,’ grunted Colonel Brandon. ‘Let’s go. Ned, Nick, Sergeant – to me, if you please. Colonel Maxwell will doubtless join us at his convenience.’
‘Sarcastic bugger,’ muttered Eden. Then, ‘All right, Toby. Unbar the door – but be careful.’
Tobias slid the bar back, eased the door open and peered through the gap.
‘Looks quiet enough,’ he said. ‘Now?’
‘Yes. Stick to the plan and move fast.’
Tobias pulled the door wide and stood back to let Gabriel and the others past him, followed by Eden and the detail guarding the women. Then, as Tobias stepped out in their wake, figures rushed from the shadows towards them.
There was no time to think or weigh up the scale of the opposition. With a mixture of brief, colourful curses, Gabriel, Eden, Ned and Sergeant Trotter reacted instinctively, surging forward to meet Quinn’s bully-boys while, behind them, Nicholas volunteered to get the women back inside.
‘No!’ shouted Eden over his shoulder as he dodged a vicious cudgel blow to his head, disarmed its owner and then knocked him out with the butt of his pistol. ‘Not safe. There’s another entrance.’
Gradually he began to see what they were up against. Nine or ten men, muscled like dock-workers and bearing an assortment of clubs, metal bars and knives. Away to his left, Gabriel had put down another of them with a sword-thrust to the thigh; Ned and the sergeant were grappling with two others while Peter sent a third staggering back with a punch like a sledgehammer; and, knife in hand, Tobias was circling a fellow who was trying to gut him with a bill-hook.
‘Nick – Aubrey,’ said Eden as he spun to face another attacker. ‘Get the women away. We’ll hold here.’
‘Get Mary away,’ said one of the women grimly as she snatched up a fallen cudgel. ‘Jenny and me’ll fight.’
Nicholas pushed Mary into Aubrey’s arms. He said, ‘You take her. I’ll stay.’ And he threw himself into the mêlée.
For a few minutes, the fight became messy, confusing and noisy. Jenny and Rachel screeched angry insults at their former captors and hit out at anything they could reach. A couple of Quinn’s fellows laughed … and then stopped laughing when one of them went down, howling from a well-placed kick to the groin.
Another five men poured in from Dowgate.
Finding himself briefly back-to-back with Gabriel, Eden said breathlessly, ‘Sod it. We’re going to have to shoot a couple of them to end this before any more turn up.’
‘Pick whichever you like. I’ll take the one annoying Ned.’
Eden glanced across to where Nicholas was struggling with a fellow wielding a heavy crowbar. He raised his pistol and fired, a mere heartbeat before Gabriel felled his own target. Suddenly the odds looked manageable again.
Tobias had despatched the fellow with the bill-hook and was now dancing about an overweight rotundity with yellow hair and a hefty length of lead pipe. He was laughing.
‘Stop playing and take him do
wn, Toby,’ yelled Eden. ‘We don’t want to be at this all bloody night!’
‘Speak for yourself,’ sang out Tobias cheerfully. But the wicked Genoese knife made a lightening sweep at the fat man’s wrist and the lead pipe clattered to the cobbles. ‘Happy now?’
‘Idiot!’
Almost before the word was out, something crashed hard against his shoulder, sending him reeling and a second blow to the back of his thigh forced him down on one knee. Swivelling, he was just in time to see a cudgel swinging at his head with murderous intent. With no time to gain his feet, he ducked and made an inevitably clumsy slash with his sword. His blade met empty air but his attacker screamed, dropped his cudgel and backed off clutching his rear.
Tobias grinned down on his brother and held out his free hand.
‘Stuck him in the arse,’ he grinned, as he pulled Eden to his feet, ‘You can thank me later.’
A few yards away, Gabriel, Ned and Sergeant Trotter had isolated the women from the main thrust of the fight and were driving the opposition back across the quayside towards the river. Behind them, Peter was gasping for breath and clutching his side with blood welling steadily through his fingers while Nicholas, limping badly from a savage blow to his knee, struggled to fend off the blows of a beefy fellow wielding what looked like half an oar. Tobias swung back to help him.
Pivoting on his heel, Eden found himself face to face with Skinner and wondered, briefly, where the hell he’d come from.
Bad teeth and a pair of long knives gleaming in the fitful light, Skinner said, ‘Well, well. If it ain’t the bleeding rabbit. Didn’t think you was this stupid.’
‘Your mistake, then.’ Eden swept his blade round in a murderous arc that sent Skinner hopping back a couple of paces. ‘Call your men off. So far, we haven’t killed anybody – but that stops now. Call them off.’
‘Give us the women and I might.’ He stepped across, circling like an animal waiting to pounce. ‘Mr Quinn wants them, see.’