The Holver Alley Crew

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “So you don’t need that room you’ve rented?”

  “Didn’t say that,” Asti said. “I’ll need that at least a few more days. And . . . I’ll take Win’s bill as well.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Kimber said.

  “I know but—”

  “I ain’t charging that man a tick,” Kimber said. “Saints look poorly on someone who profits off of misery.” She kissed the knuckles on her right hand and touched them to her chest.

  “I get you,” Asti said. “But if the time comes, I’ve got Win covered.”

  “Course you do.” Kimber gave him a wan smile, patted his arm, and walked off.

  Mila wasn’t in the taproom. Asti wasn’t sure where to find her now. He went back outside—no sign of her in the street. He wandered over toward Holver Alley. Maybe she had wandered back over there.

  He was nearly at the alley when he sensed that someone was following him. The streets weren’t too crowded, so it wasn’t hard to notice the shadow keeping an even distance behind him.

  A glance backward at an opportune moment confirmed what Asti had already suspected: Mila was tailing him. He wasn’t sure why she was, but there was something amusing about her attempt. With a perverse glee, Asti turned down the alley and let her keep up with him.

  Once he was halfway down the alley, he chose one of the more stable-looking wrecks and slipped inside. He quickly found a window that wasn’t too singed to peer through.

  Mila was walking down the alley, and doing a damn fine job of looking like she was going about her own business. Her glances at each home and storefront had the marked casualness of someone just paying attention to where she was going. Even in the dusky twilight, though, Asti could make out the hint of intensity in her eyes—she had lost her quarry, and she was intent on finding it, but she wasn’t going to let anyone know a blazing thing about it.

  She stopped in front of the building Asti was hiding in. She gave a quick glance about, and placed herself inside the empty doorframe, as if simply taking a moment to catch her breath. Her eyes went everywhere, but the rest of her face betrayed nothing.

  Her hands went inside her ragged coat, played perfectly like she was doing it just for warmth.

  Asti realized he was being far too cynical; she probably was doing it for warmth.

  Still, the girl had raw skill, and it would be foolish not to cultivate it.

  He snuck out of his hiding spot over to the doorframe. “Looking for me?”

  If he had surprised her, she didn’t let it show. “Could ask you the same, Mister Rynax.”

  “Yeah, but I decided to watch you work some more.”

  “Do I pass?”

  “You’ll do,” Asti said. “So we need to change our plan. You want in?”

  “In how?”

  “In as in a part of the gig. Equal share.”

  “What’s an equal share?”

  Asti figured the numbers in his head. “One-fifty.”

  Now she looked surprised.

  “Blazes, Mister Rynax. What . . . what are we doing?”

  “Come on over to the stable, and we’ll talk about it.”

  Verci had spent the better part of the afternoon up to his elbows in axle grease. Kennith seemed to appreciate the help, and appeared to be in a better mood when Asti returned with Mila. He quietly cleared off a worktable and brought it to the front room.

  Shortly afterward Helene and Julien arrived. The two of them looked worse than ever. Their clothes were a wreck, torn and unraveling, clearly the same ones they had thrown on when the fire started. Julien didn’t even have matching boots. Helene’s face was covered with ash and scratches.

  Verci whispered to Asti, “Are you sure about this crew for this job?”

  “Positive,” Asti said. “Shall we get started?”

  “What is this gig, anyway, Asti?” Helene asked.

  “And what do you need me for?” Mila added.

  “I’ll tell you.” He went to the door and latched it. “Everybody, take a seat or something.”

  Verci sat on the workbench, letting Asti take the floor.

  “What we’re looking at,” Asti said, glancing about at the people around him, “is a carriage job.”

  Helene groaned. “Those are the worst.”

  “Why are they the worst?” Mila asked.

  “A lot of reasons,” Verci said. “The big ones being you’ve got a small window of time to do the job, and the second being you’re sure to create a quick rattle.”

  “Quick rattle?” Kennith asked.

  Asti chuckled. “A rattle is the call put out when someone realizes he’s been robbed. He cries out and the constabs come looking.”

  Verci added, “You do, say, a window job or a safe job in the middle of the night, the rattle may not come until morning. If you do it really well, it may be days before the mark knows he’s been robbed.”

  “You hit a carriage, though, then they know right away,” Helene said. “It almost always means a fight, Asti. You said there wouldn’t be a fight.”

  “I said Julien won’t have to fight,” Asti said. “Big difference.”

  “I can fight,” Julien said.

  “I don’t want Julien having to fight,” Helene said.

  “He won’t have to,” Asti said. “If the plan goes smooth, only Verci and I will be fighting.”

  “If it goes smooth,” Helene said. “I don’t like that if. What about me?”

  “What you do isn’t fighting,” Asti said with a grin. “Fighting implies the other guy has a fair chance.”

  Verci laughed. “Then what you do isn’t fighting, either, brother.”

  “Stop buttering us all and tell us the rutting plan, Rynax,” Helene said.

  “The plan is a statue, coming from the customhouse on Wheeler.”

  “Over in Keller Cove.” Helene shook her head. “Sticks pay a lot closer mind to things over there. Especially by the customhouse.”

  Verci stifled a laugh. This was the big reason why a lot of crews stopped working with Helene, despite her being the best shot in westtown. She argued every point, tore apart every plan. There were other reasons, of course. She refused to work without Julien but refused to let him do anything that could get him hurt, which limited his use. He was one of the strongest guys Verci had ever known, but with his slow thinking he wasn’t good for anything beyond heavy muscle.

  Verci knew Asti didn’t mind either thing. He liked the Kessers, especially liked having someone like Helene tear up his plan.

  “That’s a risk, of course,” Asti said. “That’s why we’ve got to hit hard and fast and bolt.”

  “Why not get it at the customhouse?” Helene asked. “Or at its destination?”

  “You think I hadn’t thought of that, Hel?” Asti asked.

  “Statue is heavy,” Kennith said.

  “Not the sort of thing you can sneak out past security,” Verci added. “Best shot is when it’s in transit.” Helene frowned at him. “Hey, I hate it, but it’s the truth.”

  Asti nodded. “Shame, but there it is, and the money is too good to let it slip.”

  “Nine, six ways?” Helene asked. “Or is there some other cut?”

  “That’s the whole nut,” Asti said, looking at Kennith. “Right?”

  “Nine hundred is our share,” Kennith said. “I don’t know what the buyer is paying Josie.”

  “So how much each?” Julien asked.

  Mila, who had been sitting quietly on the floor, responded. “One hundred fifty crowns.” She glanced around at everyone. “I’ve never seen so much as ten crowns at once, and that was from you.”

  “That’s gonna change soon,” Asti said with a grin.

  Helene scoffed. “So, carriage job. Hit the carriage, kill the guards, take the statue, and run like hell. T
hat the gist of the plan?”

  “In broad strokes,” Asti said.

  “Broad strokes,” Helene muttered. She shook her head and went over to the wall.

  “From what Kennith tells us, the carriage is heavily armored. We’ve only got a small window to take out the driver through.”

  Helene perked up, turning back to the group. “How small?”

  Kennith held up his hands, making a rough box about a foot wide and three inches tall. Verci saw her eyes light up.

  Helene nodded. “Someone will have to make that shot from far enough away that they aren’t spotted.”

  “Tough shot to make,” Asti said. “Hardly anyone could do it.”

  Helene laughed. “Don’t need the butter, boys. Just the crowns.”

  “I thought she needed the butter,” Asti said.

  Verci looked her up and down. “You seemed like you were fishing for some butter.”

  “I want some butter, you’ll know it,” Helene said. “And your wife will worry.”

  “Helene!” Julien cried out, sounding scandalized.

  “Blazes, girl,” Asti muttered. “There’s children in here, you know.”

  “Hey!” Mila snapped. She shot to her feet, jabbing two fingers into Asti’s chest. “You call me a child, I walk.” Asti bit his cheek, and Verci wasn’t sure what his brother was holding back, laughter or the impulse to break the girl’s fingers.

  “I’m talking about my baby brother.” Asti smirked and backed away from Mila.

  “I’ve got very delicate ears,” Verci added. Mila scowled back and forth at the two of them, then stalked over to another corner.

  “Here’s the big thing to worry about,” Asti said. “We know roughly when this will happen, and we know what the thing will look like.”

  “We do?” Julien asked.

  “I’ve got sketches,” Kennith said.

  “The big question on our plate is where,” Asti said. He put a finger on the wall as if he expected something to be there, then gave the blank wall an annoyed glare.

  “You need a map of the city, brother?” Verci asked.

  “You have one?”

  “Not on me,” Verci said. “I’ll add it to the shopping list.”

  “By tonight if you can.”

  “I can go grab one now if you like.”

  “It can wait,” Asti said. Tapping his finger on the blank wall, he started mumbling.

  “Can’t hear you,” Mila said.

  “Question of where,” Asti said louder, turning back out to the group. “We know they are going to go out east, but we don’t know exactly how they’re doing it. So that’s the big challenge.”

  “Ferreting out the path?” Helene asked.

  “Don’t want to ferret it,” Asti said, shaking his head.

  “Takes coin and muscle,” Verci said, nodding. “Getting someone to talk.”

  “More to the point, it makes noise. Word can get to the wrong people that someone wants to know the path, then the guard is up. No, we need to work out the possible paths and come up with a plan that can move.”

  “Plan that moves can’t be too far from the customhouse,” Verci said.

  “Why not?” asked Kennith.

  “Each block means a place things can change. Three blocks away, there’re fewer than ten places the carriage could be. Five blocks, more than twenty.”

  “But too close to the customhouse, they yell for backup,” Asti added.

  “Have I mentioned how fun it is to be with you boys?” Helene said.

  “This is it in the nut,” Asti said. “Find the spot to hit, get the carriage to stop. That’s Verci and Mila.”

  “Me?” Mila asked.

  “Damn right, you,” Asti said. “Take out the driver through his window. That’s Helene.”

  “Hurrah,” Helene said dully.

  “Verci and I take out any other escort, signal the carriage. Julien and Kennith ride up once they get the signal.”

  “What’s the signal?” Julien asked.

  “I need to figure that out,” Verci said. It needed to be something that could be seen from a couple of blocks away at night. Or heard. Verci scratched his chin and thought about it.

  “I need to know what the signal is,” Julien insisted.

  “You’ll know it, Jules,” Helene said. “As soon as I know it.”

  Asti continued. “Julien and Kennith help Verci crack the carriage.”

  “Can’t be cracked,” Kennith said.

  “What?” Helene asked. “What’s the point—”

  Verci held up his hand to Helene. “Ain’t a thing made by human hands that can’t be cracked. We’ll get it.”

  Asti sighed in disgust. “Once it’s cracked, Julien gets the statue out and loads it on our carriage, Kennith races it out. Meet back at the safehouse, make our seller drop, and split our shares.”

  “Easy as blackberry pie,” Verci said. “What else do we need to do?”

  “Go scout the paths,” Asti said.

  “I know where to start that,” Helene said.

  Asti had to admit, the view was impressive from the roof of the whitestone. It never seemed that tall from the street. Looking down, he realized it was at the top of the slope, giving him a clear sightline all the way to the river. This was two blocks into Keller Cove, and the customhouse, the gates around it, the streets leading away, everything was laid out in front of him. To the west, the crowded brick and wood houses of North Seleth, crammed up to the shore, and the ramshackle junkyard of Benson Court beyond it. Keller Cove stretched out to the east, the houses and towers brighter and cleaner, with bits of green vegetation peeking through. The larger buildings gave him easy landmarks—Tyne’s Pleasure Emporium and the Hesker marketplace.

  “How’d you find this place, Hel?”

  “Shooter girl needs to know her nests. This is one of the best.” She put her eye to a lensescope—she had made Verci give her one before she took Asti up here—and scanned along the streets. “I could hit as far as—Colman Street, if I had the Beast.”

  “The Beast?”

  “Beauty of a crossbow, she was. Needed Julien to carry the blasted thing, but once I had it mounted, it was like calling down lightning from the sky.”

  “You don’t still have it?”

  “Nah,” Helene said. “Not since Julien and I worked for Tresser. Remember Tresser?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Don’t know,” Helene replied. “He vanished and I don’t ask questions about it.”

  Asti nodded. That was all too common in this trade, same when he was in Intelligence. Of course, in those days friends vanished because something went wrong on a mission no one could talk about. In this business more often it involved getting thrown in the river over some petty mistake. Tresser was a good window-cracker and a half-decent planner, but he had a bad habit of bragging about jobs, usually loudly in public places. Asti wasn’t surprised he vanished. Helene shrugged. “He had a ton of gear stored in his flop, and it all went away when he did.”

  “I lost a good pair of boots that way once.”

  “I’m gonna build a new Beast someday,” she said wistfully.

  “With what you’re gonna get now, where could you hit from up here?”

  “Pure distance, six blocks. Blazes, I could riddle the gates of the customhouse if I really wanted. But you want me to trim a flywing, and this ain’t the nest to do that from.”

  “Where do you want to be?”

  “That depends on where we hit, boss.”

  “Right,” Asti said. Helene was mocking him. That was good, it meant she was feeling comfortable. He turned his attention to the streets below. “Kennith says the carriage is slow.”

  “Where’d you get that chomie, anyway?”

  “Might wanna watch
saying that in front of him,” Asti said. “He came through the Old Lady.”

  “This is all tangled through that bun?” Asti heard a lot of anger in her voice, but when he looked back at her, her body was calm and relaxed.

  “She’s a useful one to tangle through,” Asti said. “At least, as far as I’m in a position to go through anyone.”

  “She know you brought me and Julien on?”

  “I didn’t tell her,” Asti said. “But knowing her, she’s probably fully aware.”

  “That’s not gonna do you any favors, Rynax.”

  “I’m not looking for favors,” Asti said. “Just a clean job, good payout. I need it, and you and yours need it.”

  “True,” Helene said. “Don’t trust her, though.”

  “Never do,” Asti said. “Hardly trust anyone.”

  “Me?” Helene asked.

  “Not a chance,” Asti said, smirking back at her. “I’m ready to throw you off the roof if you try anything.”

  “Good to know.” Helene pointed down to the street. “Corner of Ginny and Hicks. Three blocks from the customhouse but out of line of sight, most direct path to head out east. Plus, there’s some good alleys to hide in. I can get on the roof of that flophouse and knock the foam off your beer.”

  Asti took the scope from her and looked at where she was talking about. “I think you may have an eye for this sort of thing, Hel.”

  “Thanks, Rynax. Now get your hands off my scope.”

  “This is Verci’s scope.”

  “It’s mine now. Part of the deal.”

  Chapter 8

  THE CHEMIST SHOP WAS still open, despite the rest of Holver Alley being deserted and empty. Verci figured Almer Cort didn’t hurt too much for business, being on the corner of a proper street. When he went in, the place was still a wreck from the other night, shelves knocked over, broken glass on the ground. The little bell over the door rang as Verci entered, and Cort came right out.

  “Rynax,” he said with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

  “Not sure,” Verci said. “I know what I need, don’t know if it can be done.”

  “What do you need?” Cort asked. He scratched at his graying beard. “You talking about doing something that strays from legal business?”