by Alex Simmons
The roustabout’s surly face went red with anger, but he said nothing until Desmond had moved out of earshot. Then he turned to Chinless Ed Gorham. “Keep the gun on them, you. I’ll tie them up.”
The American’s face went as red as his companion’s. “Now, wait a minute, Zeke. I can tie knots.” Gorham had a flat, nasal accent when he spoke, along with a whining tone in his voice. With his receding chin and ridiculous mustache, he would have seemed comical, except for the look in his eyes—and the pistol in his hand.
“I put in two years on a riverboat,” Zeke Black replied. “I know the ropes.” He didn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “And Desmond just told me to get the job done right.”
“Aw, Zeke, don’t start with that again,” Gorham complained, his voice getting whinier.
“You worked on a riverboat?” Even getting tied up couldn’t dampen Dooley’s curiosity. “In the Wild West?”
“Nah,” Black replied, “on the Saskatchewan River in Canada. That’s where I come from. Knocked about quite a bit out West, both north and south of the border.”
“All of it honest work, no doubt,” Wiggins said sarcastically.
That actually got a laugh from Black. “Maybe not. But it all made plenty of money for me. I was good enough in my line of work that—certain people—approached me to get involved in what they called ‘a profitable enterprise.’ All I had to do was get a position with the Wild West show.”
He smirked. “It was easy enough getting around that fathead Cody. Although his partner was harder to buffalo—Salsbury is nobody’s fool.”
“Goody for you.” Jennie spoke up. “Too bad you and your friend weren’t as good with a real buffalo.”
Her comment made Chinless Ed twitch. “Say, I paid a bundle to get out of New York. Figured I’d be sailing in style, not hiding out as the tender to that monster. Zeke got him on the wagon, but I didn’t know what to do when he handed me that rope. It wasn’t my fault—”
“It was all your fault!” Zeke Black barked, jerking on the ropes as he tied Wiggins’s wrists. Wiggins winced in pain. Any chance of wriggling out of those bonds had just gone out the window.
The Canadian outlaw glared at the New York gangster. “You spooked the stupid beast when we got to Earl’s Court, making that copper notice you. Then, when I told you to lie low while we got the buffalo into the corral, you go and steal a gun— Buffalo Bill’s gun, no less.”
“I carried an equalizer every day of my life since I was ten years old,” Gorham replied. “It’s like I was naked without one. So when I saw the Colt sitting out there in the middle of that fancy tent—” He broke off at the look Black gave him. Then, pulling himself together, he began waving around the gun in his hand. “Besides, it came in handy enough when that cop came after us. Not that I’da knowed he was a cop in regular clothes.”
“What happened?” Owens asked.
“He showed a badge as we left the show grounds, by the stable bridge.” Black shook his head as he tied up Owens. “Just when I would have passed Chinless Ed along the chain and been rid of him.”
“Well, what kind of luck was it that the guy would recognize me from a cartoon in a magazine? ” Chinless Ed protested.
“Bad luck!” Zeke burst out. “That’s the only kind of luck you brought with you from America.”
“And then the stupid gun turned out not to have real bullets in it,” Gorham went on. “I laid the guy out with the butt end. Should have finished him when he was down.”
“It’s not every day a copper gets shot in London, ” Black responded, “even with blank bullets. If we’d killed him as well, the police would be tearing the city apart looking for us. Better to leave him as we did, in no shape to talk and with the law looking for some savage.”
You’re the savages,” Dooley cried as Zeke moved past him. “Silent Eagle saved lives that day. But you people take ’em—coppers’, kids’, even my brother’s! ”
Dooley spat in Black’s face. The angry cowboy laid him flat with a backhand slap. Jennie let out a shriek and jumped on him. Zeke easily flung her back and raised his hand to strike her as well. Wiggins and Owens tried to kick out at him till Gorham pressed his gun barrel to Wiggins’s temple.
“Won’t bother me one bit to do you in right now,” the American growled. “And this gun’s got real bullets. So don’t move, either of you.”
Zeke quickly grabbed Jennie and tied her hands. “Soon enough, we’ll find the Indian and do for him.” He gave the ropes an extra-vicious tug. “After all the noise in the newspapers passes, we’ll take care of Turnbuckle so it looks as if he died in his sleep at the hospital. Then everything can go back to business as usual.”
Wiggins’s insides went cold. If that was the plan, things didn’t look good for the Raven League. They’d be the only ones who knew about the smuggling ring besides the people running it. These ruthless men weren’t likely to let Wiggins and his friends live to tell the tale.
Black didn’t realize what he’d given away. He was busy giving Gorham dark looks. “So far, the police have been looking in the wrong places because of that little trick I learned from the Indians up in Saskatchewan.”
Dooley stared. “You scalped the copper?”
“It sure wasn’t him.” Black jerked his head in Gorham’s direction. “Between that and leaving Cody’s gun beside the copper, it should have been enough to keep everyone’s eyes on the Americans.”
He scowled. “While I was doing the job, I asked Chinless over there to do one little thing. ‘Get rid of that magazine,’ I said. He could have burned it or taken it away to dump in the Thames or chuck on a trash pile. What does he do? He tosses it onto the railway embankment to be found by you. All my hard work comes to nothing, and Desmond cuts up nasty about me making mistakes.”
Gorham was busy waving his revolver again. “Don’t call me Chinless!”
One of the criminals waiting to be smuggled out of the country came over. He was handsome in a skinny, foppish sort of way. Blond hair tumbled into his blue eyes as he stood by Gorham. Wiggins recognized him, having seen him around various thieves’ dens in the East End—Gentleman Jeremy Clive, the jewel thief who’d killed someone during his last burglary.
“I say, old boy,” Gentleman Jeremy said in his posh voice, “from a business viewpoint, these witnesses are deuced inconvenient. Better to do away with them now and leave them to the Thames after we go—”
“If they’re that inconvenient, why don’t you do it yourself ?” Inspector Desmond reappeared, leering at Gentleman Jeremy, who drew back.
Desmond shook his head. “Rather leave it to the servants, would you? Actually doing the job might distress your gentlemanly sensibilities?”
Clive retreated to the other skulking fugitives as if Desmond had whipped him.
Zeke Black hustled the members of the Raven League into a line as Desmond turned back. “Neatly done,” the inspector told him. “Gag them as well.”
“I thought you wanted us to talk,” Wiggins said.
“Oh, I do indeed,” Desmond replied. “I’m reasonably sure you know where Silent Eagle is hiding —probably because you put him there. But everything in its place, and this isn’t the place where I’ll be asking you. I’ve just exchanged messages with the higher-ups. We’ll move our chat to another house, a bit quieter. No traffic on the river or streets outside.”
Wiggins couldn’t keep the fear from his eyes as Black gagged him. Desmond noticed, leaning forward to say, “This is just to make sure there’s no foolishness on the journey. I’m sure you’ll see reason without the need for any . . . extreme measures.”
Desmond smiled. “See here, Wiggins. You can’t tell me you’ve suddenly become fond of this heathen. Heaven knows what he’s done—who he’s killed—back in America. He could have dozens of hanging offenses in his past. Let us have him. Afterward, we’ll set you all free. On the off chance anyone listens to you, we’ll change our operations a bit. Gorham will go off to Hamburg
on the Sea Foam, and that will be an end to it.”
This bloke should have been an actor, Wiggins thought. Even though I know what will really happen, that he’s lying through his teeth, part of me wants to believe him.
“Just think about that during the ride.” Desmond ordered Black to hitch up a pair of horses to a wagon. The inspector and Gorham unlatched the tailgate and carried the members of the Raven League, one by one, to deposit them in the wagon bed. While Black harnessed the horses, Desmond and Gorham covered the prisoners with a canvas tarpaulin.
Lying in the darkness, Wiggins heard Desmond say, “Looks as if we’re ready to go. Black, you drive. Gorham, open the doors.” He raised his voice. “And Clive, you can close them, if you don’t mind. Gorham will be joining us.”
The wagon lurched into motion. Wiggins was already moving, twisting his arms and hips, trying to get one of his bound hands into the right pocket of his trousers. For once his oversize clothes were an advantage. By yanking on the waistband of the trousers, he managed to bring the pocket a little closer.
Wiggins fumbled inside his pocket. The tight ropes cut the circulation to his hand, making it clumsy. But he finally managed to get hold of the penknife he always carried. He’d found it in a back alley, where it had probably been tossed away as trash. Half the bone inlay on the handle had cracked away, and the larger blade had snapped off.
But there was still the smaller blade, which Wiggins unfolded by feel. It seemed awfully small compared to the ropes it would have to cut. The wagon rattled over the brick floor of the warehouse, then onto the cobblestones outside. Sunlight seeping through the tightly woven canvas lightened things slightly for the captives. Wiggins brought the knife around and began sawing at his bonds.
It seemed to take forever as they clattered along, but at last, the rope holding his wrists together parted. Stretching out his freed hand, Wiggins poked Owens and passed the knife over to him.
Worming his way across the wooden floor of the wagon, he headed for the edge of the tarpaulin. Wiggins worked the gag off his face and stuck his head out. For a moment, he blinked in the sunlight, then breathed a stifled sigh of relief. The three men on the driver’s seat were all facing forward. They hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten free.
Not that there was anything much Wiggins could do. Not with his friends still bound and helpless.
Wiggins raised his head a little higher to see over the tail of the wagon. They were moving along a narrow street right by the Thames. Other wagons and carts moved around them. Behind them, Wiggins spotted a hansom cab.
His eyes went big as he recognized the derby on the cab’s driver. And the muffled-up passenger was now throwing constricting clothing away as the cab picked up speed.
Instead of leaving the East End for Piccadilly, Cody must have decided to follow Desmond and the Raven Leaguers. Then he had trailed the wagon when he saw Desmond, Black, and Gorham leaving the warehouse.
Now he’d obviously spotted Wiggins because Buffalo Bill and Silent Eagle weren’t just following —they were racing in pursuit!
Chapter 16
WIGGINS LAY FROZEN AND UNNOTICED HALFWAY under the tarpaulin, his eyes darting back and forth from the hansom cab behind to the driver’s seat up in front of the wagon. Perhaps the accelerated clatter of the hansom’s wheels against the cobblestones caught Zeke Black’s ears. Maybe it was the shouted complaints from the other carters at the cab’s sudden burst of speed. Whatever the reason, the Canadian outlaw glanced back just as the cab hit a gap in the pavement. The concealing derby flew off, and Buffalo Bill’s hair streamed out in the breeze behind him.
Zeke looked thunderstruck as he recognized who was quickly coming up behind them. He snapped the reins, speeding up his own team, and shouted something to his companions.
Chinless Ed Gorham stood up to take a wobbly stance between Zeke and Inspector Desmond, fumbling in his coat pocket. He pulled out his little revolver and turned to aim at the pursuers, who by now had drawn alongside.
As soon as Wiggins saw the pistol, he hurled himself at Gorham’s gun hand, pushing upward so the shot missed. Gorham flung him back, tumbling Wiggins on top of his companions under the tarp.
Wiggins found himself staring down the gun barrel as Chinless Ed took furious aim at him. But before Gorham could fire, Buffalo Bill cracked his whip right in the gangster’s face. Gorham staggered back, his flailing arms sending Inspector Desmond’s hat flying. The gun in his hand went off twice into the air, and Chinless Ed toppled over onto Zeke Black.
In a tangle of arms and legs, the two men nearly fell to the roadway. Zeke lost the reins, and the wagon suddenly shot forward as the horses took off.
Furious shouts came from the drivers struggling to pull their vehicles out of the way as the wagon raced onward, weaving wildly along the quay-side road. Wiggins was ready to add some cries of his own—of sheer terror. But Black and Desmond hadn’t seen him yet, so Wiggins kept low, waiting till his friends got free. From the bumping and fluttering of the tarpaulin, Jennie, Owens, and Dooley had to be well on the way.
Buffalo Bill urged his cab horse forward, trying to catch up again. Inspector Desmond was bent over on the driver’s seat, scrabbling for something on the floorboards—the revolver, Wiggins suddenly realized.
Cody’s cab almost pulled up beside them again, but the runaway wagon careened against it with a shock. As Gorham and Desmond struggled to hold on to the wagon, Zeke Black cannoned from the driver’s seat. He landed in the river with a tremendous splash.
Chinless Ed let out a yelp as he nearly tumbled after Zeke. Desmond hauled him back by the tail of his coat. The out-of-control wagon lurched back and forth across the narrow road, going far too fast. If they didn’t crash into another wagon or cart, they’d end up smashing into the low retaining wall. Wiggins tried not to think of the terrifying possibilities—breaking their necks, dashing their brains out on the pavement, or being flung into the Thames to drown. Whatever the choice, things didn’t look good for him or his friends.
Buffalo Bill zigzagged after them, bringing his cab up on the left-hand side of the wagon, trying to keep between them and the wall. The hansom cab’s wheels clashed against the side of the wagon, causing both vehicles to shudder. Wiggins clamped his hands to the wooden side of the wagon, fearful he’d catapult over.
Up on the driver’s seat of the wagon, Chinless Ed Gorham blundered to his feet, panic written all over his face. He’d managed to recover his pistol, waving it wildly in one hand as he clung to the seat with the other. The horses pulling the wagon swerved again, and Gorham lost his hold. With a high-pitched scream, he fell off and landed on the cobblestones below. His screaming ended abruptly.
Wiggins swallowed heavily.
In the sudden silence, he heard Owens’s annoyed voice. “Hold still, will you? I’ve nearly got you loose.”
A second later, Jennie wriggled out from under the tarpaulin. At first she squinted in the sunlight. Then her eyes went wide with horror as she realized what was going on.
“Hold tight,” Wiggins advised her as Buffalo Bill brought his hansom cab up level with them again. This time, Silent Eagle stood crouched on the seat of the open cab. He’d thrown away most of the disguise the Raven Leaguers had assembled for him, keeping only his shirt and trousers.
Wiggins was amazed at the way the Indian maintained his balance, seeming almost to foresee any bounces or bumps. Dooley and Owens popped out from under the tarpaulin just as a missing paving stone sent the cab into a major bound, and Silent Eagle took that moment to jump.
The Indian literally flew over the crouched children to land right behind the driver’s seat. At the noise, Inspector Desmond whirled from trying to recapture the reins. He had fallen far from his usual elegant self. His hair was mussed, his face flushed, his features twisted in a wordless snarl. He flung himself at Silent Eagle, trying to send the Indian over the side to suffer the same fate that had taken Chinless Ed.
Silent Eagle grappled with his ant
agonist in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle. Neither man was armed, but Silent Eagle was simply trying to subdue Desmond, while the renegade policeman fought with murder in his heart. Desmond reared back and head-butted Silent Eagle in the face. Yet even with blood streaming from his nose and mouth, the Indian held on.
The inspector began thrashing violently, not trying to attack, but to get free of Silent Eagle’s grip. Desmond succeeded as their vehicle swerved away from the river and toward a heavy dray wagon. Desmond jumped, aiming for the bales of cotton in the wagon bed.
Wiggins never saw him land. The terrified team of horses swung over again, flinging Wiggins flat. He pushed himself upright and froze.
Up ahead, the river went into a bend, and so did the road. At the speed the horses were going, the wagon would never make that curve. Gulping, Wiggins realized they’d have to jump!
But when he turned, he found Jennie clambering onto the driver’s seat. Somehow, she’d gotten hold of the reins for the left-hand horse in the team. Wiggins made his way to the other side of the wagon and looked over. His heart sank as he saw the only means of controlling the other animal trailing along on the ground.
Silent Eagle helped Jennie get into position and brace herself. They spoke for a moment, heads close. Jennie nodded.
Then Silent Eagle turned and launched himself onto the back of the right-hand horse.
The astonished animal almost stumbled, which would have sent them spinning into a crash. But somehow, Silent Eagle managed to stay balanced and steady his mount, getting hold of the lost reins. With the Indian controlling one horse and Jennie hauling on the reins of the other, they managed to slow the headlong rush. The horses were tired, their sides covered with lathery sweat. They slowed, taking the wagon safely around the curve in the road, and finally stopped.
Immediately, a crowd gathered around them. Several carters ran up to grab the bridles on the horses, making sure they went nowhere. Not that Wiggins thought that was likely. The animals stood on trembling legs, their heads low, blowing great breaths of air.