by Alex Bell
Lex didn’t need telling twice. He raced out of the church, quite unable to resist the temptation of jumping onto the fallen door on his way out and running along it, hearing the muffled grunt from beneath with a tremendous sense of smug satisfaction. And from that day on, he and the Goddess of Fortune were a team. Eventually she got a handful of followers back, but the point was that Lex had saved her church. And in return she gave him a little extra help with his more disreputable activities… Or, at least, she usually did. But she hadn’t come through for him this time and now it seemed that Lex really was in a huge amount of trouble.
The door outside the cell opened and shut and Lex scrambled respectfully to his feet when he saw his employer approaching with the inspector.
‘Mr Lucas,’ he began, in his best tone of ‘sincere reasonableness’. ‘I can explain everything.’
‘Having just heard the evidence from this officer, Lex, I doubt that very much.’
‘It wasn’t me, sir.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Lex knew he wouldn’t be able to bluster and bluff his way out of this one. But a bit of defensive anger usually went down quite well and it might help to take them off guard. He certainly wasn’t going to sit there and confess to being the Shadowman if that was what they were expecting.
‘I would like to file an official complaint, Mr Lucas,’ Lex said, ‘for wrongful arrest and detention. Plus the service here has been dreadful. I haven’t even been given any aspirin or anything-’
‘Lex, are you maintaining that you are innocent? ’ Mr Lucas asked.
Lex allowed his mouth to fall open in stunned surprise for a moment. ‘Well, of course I… Mr Lucas, with respect, how could you even think that I would… that I would commit such a heinous act?’
‘We found the Shadowman cards on him!’ the inspector snapped. ‘He cut a hole in the ceiling and lowered himself through it on a harness and he-’
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ Mr Lucas said sharply. ‘I should like to speak with my client alone now, if you don’t mind. And please be so good as to have someone bring in some aspirin.’
There had been a momentary flicker of doubt there, it was true, but after over an hour, Lex was sure he had Mr Lucas believing him. Because he wanted to believe him — for both professional and personal reasons, the lawyer wanted to believe that Lex Trent was in fact an honest, upstanding citizen rather than an infamous cat burglar, a manipulative scoundrel and an opportunistic crook. There was also the fact that Lex didn’t look the part. The Shadowman was notorious and daring and thrilling and people probably expected some dashingly handsome thirty year old behind the mask — a gypsy, possibly, with olive skin and dark eyes. They certainly wouldn’t be expecting some skinny kid from a city law firm.
‘It’s true that the black disguise is mine. I was using it to track him,’ Lex said again. He had decided to go for the ‘plucky-but-incredibly-dim teenager tries to single-handedly capture criminal’ routine. ‘But then the Shadowman saw me and shoved those calling cards in my pocket before pushing me through that hole in the ceiling! He tried to frame me! It’s just… Mr Lucas, it’s just insane for anyone to say I’m the Shadowman! I mean, I’m seventeen — I wouldn’t know the first thing about stealing from such a well-guarded museum!’
‘All right, Lex,’ Mr Lucas said soothingly. ‘I’m confident we will be able to sort this whole unfortunate business out. There are no witnesses, there is no motive and there is certainly room for reasonable doubt. We must only be thankful that you were not hurt. I hope you’ll remember that criminal apprehension is something much better left to the authorities, my boy.’
‘Yes, sir.’
And it might have all been all right then if Mr Montgomery Schmidt hadn’t suddenly burst into the room, his eyes shining like a madman’s.
‘Ah ha!’ he cried rapturously, pointing a shaking finger at Lex. ‘You have him! You have him! You’ve got him at last! I always knew that boy was no good, right from the very minute I set eyes on him!’
‘Montgomery, pray compose yourself,’ Mr Lucas said, removing his reading spectacles and dropping them on the papers spread before him on the table. ‘What in the name of the Gods is the matter?’
The two lawyers were old friends, as Lex understood it, and had started the law firm together some thirty years ago. And whilst Lex had come to feel something of a mild liking for Mr Lucas, he felt nothing but irritation and frustration towards his partner, Mr Schmidt. For Montgomery Schmidt could see through Lex. There weren’t many who could see him for what he was. But Mr Schmidt was one of them.
When Lex first joined the firm, he had intended to skim a little off the top of the extortionate fees the lawyers were paid. It only seemed fair. The firm wouldn’t miss it. Although it was true that Lex didn’t need it. But money wasn’t the point. He had plenty of money as a result of two years spent betting shrewdly on Games, picking pockets and devising and carrying out mastermind scams. He therefore had more than enough money to survive comfortably in the Wither City, even without the wage the law firm paid him. He didn’t steal and thieve in the interests of survival. He did it because he could. And it gave him a thrill.
It wasn’t like he’d ever genuinely wanted to be a lawyer, anyway. In fact, just the very idea of anyone actually wanting to be a lawyer made him shudder all over. It was something he struggled to believe. Such a desire went against the natural order of things. But a knowledge of the law was useful — very useful — to a crook like Lex. So when, shortly after making a bargain with Lady Luck, he had strolled into a tavern in a new town and just happened to meet a boy his own age travelling alone on his way to the Wither City — the legal capital of the Globe — having obtained a letter of introduction to secure him a most feted apprenticeship at Lucas, Jones and Schmidt, Lex had lost no time in pinching it from him while he slept and making his way to the Wither City where he then presented himself as the new intern. As luck would have it, Lex had studied law for a brief time before he had left home so he had a grasp on the basics. And it hadn’t been a very difficult thing to doctor the letter of introduction so that the name read Lex Trent rather than Harold Gibbons. Poor Harold — really, with such a name, how could he be anything but one of life’s losers? When he trailed into the city a week later, he was brusquely turned away by the doormen because they knew full well that only genuine law students with introductions from genuine law schools could become interns and this boy had nothing — nothing but a pathetic and entirely unoriginal sob story about how he had had one, but it had been stolen from him.
It was a mixture of greed and ambition on Lex’s part. He wanted to better himself even if he wanted to better himself as a criminal rather than as a human being. And what could possibly be more invincible than a crook with a full working knowledge of the law? Besides which, the firm was in itself a good place to practise scams. When paying for consultations, clients often paid Lex at the front desk in Withian dollars. It had been an easy enough thing for him to overcharge them a little and pocket the difference. But for some ungodly reason, Schmidt had taken it upon himself to check what Lex was doing at the desk. He had realised after questioning his own clients that Lex had overcharged some of them. When he challenged Lex about it, Lex had of course vigorously denied that it had been anything other than purely accidental. But he had had to act pretty fast to replace the money in the safe so that the extra was accounted for when Schmidt doggedly started counting it.
Even then, despite finding that the figures added up, Mr Schmidt had been all eager to press the matter, but Mr Lucas had pulled rank as the senior partner and proclaimed that of course it had been an easily-made, innocent mistake; the money would be returned to the clients and there was to be no more said about it. No, it was not Mr Lucas who was the problem, it was his overly zealous friend who had been watching Lex like a hawk ever since, eagerly waiting for a chance to catch him out, to trip him up, to bring ruin crashing down about his head. Now was undoubtedly the time for some
serious damage control.
‘Mr Schmidt, I assure you I am entirely blameless,’ Lex began. ‘I was only trying to help but-’
‘Oh, save it for the jury!’ the lawyer snapped.
‘Montgomery!’ Mr Lucas exclaimed, standing up. ‘A word with you outside, please.’
Feeling a little apprehensive, Lex remained behind in his cell whilst the two lawyers stepped out of the room. He could see them arguing heatedly through the tiny window in the cell door and could just catch snatches of what they were saying. The two men were very close and it was a rare thing for them to quarrel. Lex distinctly heard Mr Lucas, the silly old twit, saying patiently, ‘Just an over-enthusiastic boy, Monty… ’ and, ‘certainly not capable of such criminal mastery… ’
Lex grinned, although the grin faded somewhat at Mr Schmidt’s outraged response: ‘clear sign of a disturbed mind… ’ and, ‘told you before, Joseph, that boy is no good… ’ and, ‘ prison sentence like he deserves… ’
Lex silently cursed him and his bitter tongue. After the overcharging affair, Lex had looked grave and apologised to Mr Schmidt himself with an earnest expression of humble sincerity. The sharp-eyed lawyer hadn’t bought it then and he wasn’t buying it now, blast him. But, luckily for Lex, Mr Lucas was buying it. And, as the senior partner, it was his opinion that would ultimately count.
After a while, Mr Schmidt stormed off and Mr Lucas returned to tell Lex that he was free to go. ‘I’ve persuaded the guards to allow you to leave. The trial’s next week. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Lex, of the gravity of the situation. I’m taking full responsibility for your not being kept in here. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly, sir. And thank you. I won’t let you down.’
CHAPTER TWO
THE MIDNIGHT MARKETS
Lex examined his face carefully in the mirror when he got home. To his relief, the cuts were not deep. He could not have scarring on his face. That would not do at all. It would quite ruin his honest, respectable appearance. He turned when he saw her behind him in the mirror. She was dressed in her usual white toga-like dress with her blond hair piled up high on her head.
‘Well?’ he snapped. ‘What do you have to say to me?’
He gestured to his impressive collection of cuts and bruises.
‘Well, you’re not dead, are you, Lex? You’ve just been careless,’ the Goddess of Fortune said with a disapproving click of her tongue as she eyed him up and down. ‘You should check your equipment each time. Luck can only take you so far, you know. Really, I turn my back for one minute and you go crashing through ceilings and getting yourself arrested.’
‘You are supposed to be watching out for me! You’re supposed to be making sure this kind of thing doesn’t happen! You’re so unreliable!’
‘Well of course, darling. I’m the Goddess of Luck, what do you expect? Anyway, Lex, I just came to give you the heads up. That odious little man, Schmidt, is on his way over.’
‘What the heck for-?’
‘With the guards.’
‘But why? I’ve been released on bail.’
‘A witness has come forward, I’m afraid. Most bothersome thing, but someone saw you go down through the roof of the museum. Anyway, they can testify that there was only one person there.’
She had not finished speaking before Lex had grabbed a bag and was stuffing things into it. He had been betting on Mr Lucas’s support and the sympathy of the jury to get him a not guilty verdict, but a witness would surely be enough to tip the scales against him. He wasn’t prepared to risk it. He would have to leave the Wither City. He had known it would come to this sooner or later, and it had certainly never been his intention to remain in the city for ever. It had offered him an escape route when he’d needed one before but he had never seriously intended to become a lawyer. He’d known that one day he would be found out. And then he would have to run because they would try to catch him. But they wouldn’t succeed because Lex knew how to run and he knew how to hide. And he was quite capable of doing both without any hint of guilt.
‘What are you doing?’ the Goddess asked, gazing at Lex in surprise.
‘I’m running away, you stupid woman!’ Lex replied as he dragged the carefully concealed money belt out from under his bed and fastened it round his waist beneath his shirt.
‘Whatever for? Can’t you just talk your way out of it?’
‘Believe it or not, my Lady, I cannot talk my way out of everything. Some things cannot be talked out of. This is one of those things. They can prove I’m the Shadowman if they’ve got a witness. They’ll lock me up for a very long time if they catch me. Do you understand that?’
No one could deny that the Goddess of Fortune was a useful ally to have but Lex sometimes couldn’t help wishing that his benefactress were a little less dim-witted.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, fluttering her hands in dismay. ‘You’d better be off then, hadn’t you, Lex?’
‘Yes,’ Lex replied, giving the deity a mocking bow. ‘Your servant, my Lady, until next time. Perhaps you could see your way clear to giving me a little help getting out of the city?’
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Goddess had her church — and therefore her pride — and Lex had that greatest of gifts to a thief, fraudster and all-round good-for-nothing — luck. Mr Montgomery Schmidt could have torn his hair out at the way fate seemed to conspire against him that evening.
The Wither City was the centre of all trade and commerce in the Lands Above and as such, the city never slept. There were midnight markets set up all round the docks — the hub of all activity in the city. Stalls were randomly set up all over the place, selling crafts, spices, talismans, amulets and black enchantments from across the Azure Sea. Enterprising local Withians had set up their own stalls to supply the foreigners with Withian delicacies such as mini-sea-squids-on-sticks and candied insects although really the main export of the Wither City was its books. Great leather-bound tomes tied up with string and musty with the smell of ancient, valuable old pages. Books like those made in the Wither City could not be found anywhere else on the Globe. Smoke hung over the place from various cooking fires and the air was filled with the aroma of roasting squid and the sound of hundreds of voices jabbering away in as many different languages.
Lex dodged through crowds that seemed to magically part for him whilst Mr Schmidt and the guards at his heels had to fight their way through the throngs of seamen and merchants. Carts that did not in any way hinder Lex seemed to get right in the way of Schmidt and his henchmen. At one point, an entire market stall went over and, glancing over his shoulder, Lex distinctly saw his employer slipping about on the ground covered in slimy squid tentacles. He did not look very happy about it.
Lex grinned, kept his head down and pushed on through the midnight markets to the docks. Her Ladyship was living up to her side of the bargain tonight. Luck was on his side. The trouble was that luck could only take a person so far and Lex was sometimes in danger of forgetting that in the heady thrill of having everything going his way. ‘Good luck’ did not equal ‘invincibility’. Nor did it equal ‘unbeatable’ or ‘unconquerable’ or any other of those impressively God-like sounding words. Luck was what it was — a helping hand and nothing more. For the most part, it was all still up to Lex and his own native wits to escape from any situation that he had willingly launched himself headlong into.
He would buy his passage aboard one of the ships setting sail tonight. Once he was out of Withian territory, the law of the Wither City would have no jurisdiction over him anyway and Mr Schmidt would never be able to find him once he’d escaped to the Eastern Provinces. He would start again somewhere else. He had done it before. With his almost photographic memory and ability to adapt and pick up new skills, Lex was sure he would excel at pretty much anything he put his hand to. It wasn’t arrogance. It would only be arrogance if you didn’t know you were a multi-talented genius. But there was no one else like Lex — he was the best at everything. E
verything. And he knew it too.
But it would be the rash actions of an inexperienced amateur to hop onto the nearest ship and set sail for who-knew-where without first providing for the journey and planning for the destination. Money was not a problem for Lex. Quite apart from the money belt and the stash of stolen goods he was carrying in his bag, he was an accomplished enough thief to be sure of surviving wherever he ended up. But there was more to travelling on the Globe than mere money and Lex had learnt long ago that it did not pay to be ill prepared, especially when travelling across provinces. There were things he would have to purchase before leaving the Wither City, the place that had been his home for just under a year.
Although it certainly hadn’t been Lex’s plan to leave the city that night, in some ways he was almost glad that fate had forced his hand. There was nothing like the excitement of running. And there was most definitely nothing like the excitement of being chased! And he had stayed here too long anyway — law and the Wither City had only ever been a means to an end. But before he left, he needed to make his purchases and whilst the midnight markets were the place to buy everything and anything, it would be a tedious bother to have to conduct his shopping in a hasty rush with Mr Schmidt yapping at his heels. Much as Lex was enjoying the chase, he was therefore forced to cut it off short.
He stripped off the distinctive bright red jacket he had donned just for that purpose and paid a cabin boy to put it on and scamper aboard his ship just as it was setting sail. Then he lurked about at the docks, coiling up the ropes with the other dockworkers, as Mr Schmidt burst out onto the wooden planks and gave a visual demonstration of just what exactly the word ‘apoplectic’ means. Although he was keeping his head down, Lex could easily understand the cause of his employer’s rage for Lex had paid the boy with instructions to take off the red coat once he boarded the ship and wave it energetically from the prow until the harbour was out of sight. Mr Schmidt could not fail to see it and, from that distance, he would be unable to tell that the boy was not in fact the iniquitous Lex Trent but a mere cabin boy instead.