‘I’m going to make this incredibly simple. We’re on the clock here, so every couple of minutes that you don’t tell us what we want to know, we break something. We’ll start small and work our way up. Understood?’
* * *
‘Is that a fact?’ He scowled, eyeing her up and down. He was going to get free, he told himself. He was going to work his binds off, which was what he was secretly doing now, and when free would break these silly bitches like dry wood. He would make them pay, gladly, painfully. They would be left mewing in agony, in bloodied heaps. As a finger slipped through the rough ropes, now the third on his way to release, he paid them a glare. A cruel, vengeful one at that.
‘You dumb broad, you’ve got no clue do you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. By the time my boys are through with you, I assure you, you’re both going to be very ugly. Look at you both. Pretty dress. Nice hair. Clean hands. This isn’t what you do, the furthest thing from. You don’t have the stones to carry out your threats.’
* * *
Jackdaw drew on his bottle slowly, watching their reactions carefully.
‘Nice assumption. I hate to prove anybody wrong but we do,’ Elizabeth stated. ‘Starting now.’
A brutal crack rang out as the pan smashed into his hand, shattering the wrist and forcing his fingers to become unresponsive. His howl, an alarming wail of agony was quickly silenced as the steel was then struck across his jaw. The head hung forward, a dead weight, a tooth dislodged and dropped between them.
‘Bit-th,’ he drunkenly slurred.
Katerina scowled in protest. They needed information, not a bloodbath. That would surely come later and something told her that Elizabeth would make this affair needlessly messy.
‘Are you trying to hurt him or kill him?’
‘What?’ Elizabeth shrugged, tightening her fingers around the pan handle, ready to deliver another blow. ‘We’re wasting too much time and we need answers. Besides, I’m not a fan of his tone.’
‘Now that, I agree with.’ Jack took his last mouthful and wagged the bottle at the neck. He pushed to his feet and brought himself into view. Falkner rolled his head up, letting the awful view sink in along with not an inconsiderable amount of blood coating his throat.
‘I shoulda known you would ha’ been behin’ this shit …’
Jackdaw paused. ‘You should have. It was inevitable that one of these days you was going to come for me, or I was going to come for you. The Sand Sea is a big old place and yet I kept finding your boys stepping on my toes. Something had to be done. I just beat you to the punch. In the literal sense.’
‘What do you want with the boss?’
‘Not a damn thing. That’s the business of these two. Me? I’m just along for the ride on this one.’
Elizabeth was tired of talking. She was frustrated with this stonewall silence that Falkner presented and insisted her companion finally get her hands dirty to speed things up.
‘Grab something and give me a hand here. I’m not doing this by myself.’
Conceding with a sigh, Katerina finally got to work.
Thankfully any noise was contained by the thick basement walls. The cries of pain were for their ears and theirs alone, along with the striking and breaking and all manner of horrible things that were required by Misu to further her intentions. Every swing of a tool – and for the most part they were just that, simple utensils lying around the dark, musty surroundings broke Faulkner further, in both the figurative and literal sense.
Jackdaw couldn’t help but get a few hits in himself to relieve past frustrations, given their history. In under fifteen minutes Falkner’s previous attitude had been well and truly reduced to naught, leaving him wheezing in abject agony.
But this was not enough for Elizabeth.
Something drove her hand to swing over and over, striking him about his person. Blood dashed the floor, his clothes, her clothes, her skin, each time the red becoming more and more plentiful. She had to get the information at any cost. It would save them all. Her debt needed to be paid. It was only when he finally conceded that Jackdaw restrained the farm girl by the wrist and locked eyes with her.
‘That’s enough, sugar,’ Jackdaw demanded. ‘He’s ready to talk, aren’t you?’
Falkner gurgled in affirmation.
‘See?’
Elizabeth stared wild-eyed and hot-blooded. She relinquished her arm with a snap and tossed a soiled wrench to the ground, unflinching at its clatter. She paced around the room like a caged animal, attempting to expel what had possessed her with deep, raucous breaths.
Regaining control of the fiery situation, Katerina squatted, looking Falkner dead in the eyes – or as best as she could given the swelling over the obviously broken eye socket on the left, ballooning the flesh to considerable amounts.
‘I’ll ask you this one last time. I really hope that you decide to give us what we want to hear because I’m out of breath, she’s out of patience and you –’ she prodded a kneecap that may or may not have been shattered; Katerina couldn’t tell and didn’t actually care ‘– you’re out of time. Where is Wilheim Fort hiding? We know he’s out this way and we know he talks to vermin like you directly. Give. Us. A direction.’
Falkner paused, forging the strength to form words once more. Elizabeth took this as stubbornness, reaching back to her instrument.
‘That’s it, no more chances,’ she stated, taking the wrench back into her hand and strolling forward to bring a hammer blow upon him.
‘Wait!’ Jackdaw held out a hand as Falkner finally relinquished the information.
‘The Badlands … Low Dashi …’ he wheezed. ‘He runs his operation out from Low Dashi, out in the Sand Sea.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’ Elizabeth lorded over him. ‘He’s lying.’
‘You wouldn’t have. It’s an old mining town that dried up decades ago during the gem rush. Wilheim … he moved in, runs things from there, some large factory from what I’ve heard.’ The prisoner coughed with significant difficulty.
‘Tell us where exactly.’ Katerina withdrew a scrap of paper and small pencil from a pocket. She proceeded to write down everything Falkner could provide: which rail lines to take, how far out it was, which track switches to operate, and the landmarks that served as markers on approach. Though patchy it was significantly more than what they had to go on previously. When done, Elizabeth folded the paper away into her person feeling mightily queasy with what had transpired.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ Jackdaw smugly stated.
‘He’ll be expecting you. Nobody gets to sneak up on him. He’ll know you’re arriving way before you do. He has eyes everywhere. You go upsetting whatever plans he’s laid and you can write yourselves out of living.’
‘We’re not kidding ourselves in thinking that it’ll be easy.’
They all took to the stairs and unbolted the doors to the coal cellar, letting the piercing daylight stream in.
‘You can’t leave me like this. You can’t,’ Falkner weakly protested between sniffs. ‘You’re basically killing me.’
Katerina laughed at the absurdity and looked behind her. ‘No, dear, we’re not murderers. Someone will find you soon enough. Until then, may I suggest you take some time and reflect on some of the poor choices you’ve made? The ones that have led to all this.’
As the women made their way back out into the alleyway, Jackdaw deemed it fitting to add one final barb from his vantage. ‘They may not be murderers,’ he taunted to the mess of a man, ‘but we both know I can’t say the same.’
Any attempts of objection were silenced as the wooden doors were fastened back up from outside.
* * *
Elizabeth wiped her mouth with a soft white towel and swallowed the remaining bile down. Surely her stomach must be empty by now. The ringing still vibrated in her ears no matter how hard she scrubbed at them. Again came the rush of vomit and again she heaved it out into the lounge car’s sink, situated behind the bar. Her rasps for
breath remained strained as spittle dripped upon deeply stained hands that trembled uncontrollably. The rocking of the moving train failed to help matters.
‘I thought this was going to be easy.’ She glared at Misu who stood in the corner of the carriage, arms firmly crossed. ‘Simple, you said. Simple! I hate to break this to you, boss, but your definition of the word differs greatly from anybody else’s!’
‘You knew what you were getting into,’ Misu stated. ‘You were warned. You knew exactly what was involved; you volunteered in fact. It was your decision.’
‘You sent us in to almost kill that guy!’
‘The word almost is paramount there,’ Jackdaw offered, nauseatingly drumming his fingers on the bar top.
‘And if he was a threat to us, I would have expected you to finish the job you were given. He was the means to the end, nothing more. His life, the moment we pulled into the station, was forfeit.’
‘You’ll trade his life for Franco’s? Who else is on that list? How many of us? Damn you, you’re going to get us all killed over this man!’
* * *
Misu took her time to respond and while she could easily be misconstrued as cold, she was genuinely apologetic. Maybe the plan had been far too risky, maybe it had relied on chance to secure that window for Falkner’s interrogation – but so what? It had worked hadn’t it? By the time Falkner was found – if he was found at all – the Morning Star would be long gone.
‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ Misu confessed sincerely. ‘I really am. It looks like I was wrong. You didn’t sign on for this – I get your frustration. It’s never easy, I know, but I need you to focus. I do not wish to be hard, but complain later. Now it’s time to earn your keep. Do we have what we came for?’
* * *
Misu’s expectant pause took the last shredded nerve. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, staining her cherry lips in frustration. Her fingers shook violently and her voice cracked with every breath. She had volunteered for this for all the right reasons but she had broken a man, a criminal sure, but did all she could to drag what they wanted from him.
And Misu’s response?
Was this it? Elizabeth questioned herself. Was this all that could be said? No hint of concern, no measure of thanks. Just a straight talking of our roles in all this? People have died for this one individual, this illusion who I have never even met!
‘Do we?’ Misu repeated.
‘Fuck you,’ Elizabeth spat. Tears had begun to spill from her doe eyes before she marched out, slamming the connecting door behind her with a heave. Its single pane of frosted glass slowed its rattle to a stop.
* * *
‘Yeah.’ Katerina filled the void, fumbled into her skirt, and produced a folded piece of paper with bloodied fingerprints. Her hand noticeably shook as she passed it over before wiping her eyes. ‘Yeah, we got it.’
The women were worn and raggedy. Maybe Misu had asked too much of them. They were entertainers for patrons, mistaken decorations but was all this far too demanding? The trouble that Misu herself had experienced was achingly familiar. Criminals and cold actions were a horrible pastime that she had been accustomed to – bound to Wilheim’s side like a pet, her escape only being secured by bullets and bloodshed. Did she not care? Was she so detached from the weeping that it did nothing?
Was she only concerned about Franco?
No.
That couldn’t be the case.
They were a family. It just so happened that family had difficult things asked of them.
‘You have both done exceptionally well. The law will clean up the remains of Falkner’s operation and we’ll be away by then to avoid any uncomfortable questions. It’s finally time to take Franco back.’
Katerina watched her manager unfold the paper, scan it before housing it in a pocket of her black skirt.
‘It figures that she’s angry with me.’ Misu exhaled wearily. ‘It’s fine – I can take it all. Wash up and get yourselves a drink. Take one to Elizabeth and make her rest. You’ve both done extraordinarily well.’
Katerina shuffled herself off, closing the door much quieter than before.
‘Do I sense a little discord in the ranks?’ Jackdaw helped himself to a measure of alcohol, before making it a double. He noticed the venomous glare from Misu, which suggested he concede. ‘Oh don’t be all offended. People like us wouldn’t be in this game if we couldn’t handle the occasional spat.’
Wyld sat herself down and rather than argue, Misu did the same, relinquishing the bottle and filling another two glasses. One was slid past Jackdaw down the surface into Wyld’s open hand. The pair drank in unison.
‘Franco, huh?’ Jack had caught the name. ‘I faintly remember it though who he is escapes me.’
‘Wilheim has the fella hostage. Our good lady here is spearheading an endeavour to reclaim him.’ Misu leant forward and glared down the bar, unimpressed that this most private of details was so willingly shared with someone she didn’t quite trust yet. Wyld found no weight to her concerns. They needed as many allies as they could gather. ‘Oh don’t be like that. I think Jack here has proven that his goals align with ours.’
This was very much agreed with.
‘I’ve no love for that man. Our arrangement was built on mutual benefit, something slowly becoming one-sided,’ Jack revealed, sipping away. ‘I’ve been indebted to him for years now and I’m wondering how many I have left until he deems me useless. Judging by the pair of your faces, you seem to be no strangers to his ire.’
Misu stared ahead at the bar, catching her fragmented reflection in the alternating shapes of bottles.
‘I did a few years in Windberg at his club.’ She assessed her own words. ‘I know exactly how brutal he can be.’
Jack placed his glass down and whistled in astonishment.
‘Well blow me down – you were a Lavender Girl? Shit, your kind got it worse than anyone. You’ve got my sympathy.’ He offered to strike glasses but it wasn’t reciprocated.
‘No,’ Misu rebutted. ‘I was there. I worked with them, directly under Wilheim himself. I wasn’t one of his whores.’
‘That’s awkward. Still though … damn. I don’t envy you.’
They each finished their drink before Jackdaw patted the bar and slid from his stool. His hands roved his pockets, ensuring all things were accounted for.
‘I should be on my way. The others can hold things together while I’m gone but like children, I would prefer to keep an eye on them to ensure things don’t go astray. I believe you understand the importance of keeping those beneath you reined in.’ Jack shook Misu’s hand, a little tighter than expected. ‘It’ll be customary to wish you luck in this instance but if I am compelled to speak honestly, I believe that luck won’t be of any assistance in your endeavour. Relying on something so fickle will get you killed. Quickly, may I add.’
His words were advisory but something in his tone gave the impression that he firmly believed this was the last time they would speak.
Jack finished off the last of the liquid that lined the glass. It was fine stuff and to waste even a drop would be a tragedy.
‘I hope you retrieve this Franco of yours. A good evening to you both.’
He took to the carriage doors and eased them open, the night thick and keen to hide his transgressions; but before he left for good, he reminded Misu, quite deliberately as to their arrangement.
‘But if you do accomplish this miracle then rest assured, I’ll be in touch, Misu. That, you can count on.’
Jackdaw took to the night, leaving them to drink in one another’s company. Misu refilled the glasses, higher this time. Her mood was as sour as her whisky that wetted her lips.
‘One more man who bends my fate. Wonderful. You would think I had collected enough.’ She dwelled on this. She withdrew the blood-soiled paper and tossed it before them. All these burdens for a simple bloody name. Wyld considered unfolding it but instead waited for Misu to reveal its contents in her own time.
&n
bsp; ‘Our quarry is hiding in the Badlands.’
‘That’s an awfully large space to cover with just a few of us.’
‘Indeed it is. It looks like we may need to enlist some further help. Friends, maybe.’ Misu trailed off in thought. There was just one glaring problem.
‘We don’t have any friends we can approach. Jack was the best we had and even I wouldn’t call him one to his face. It’s basically slander to the expression,’ Wyld stated.
Misu nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right. We don’t. So we need the next best thing. Go tell Ferry to take us through Watchman’s Gulch. We’re going on a slight detour east.’
Wyld took the carriage telephone in hand and waited for Ferry to pick it up at his end.
‘Hang on, what’s eastward?’ Wyld asked.
‘The grand old city of Windberg,’ Misu told her.
Chapter 22
The arrival at ten-fourteen
Jacques never made it far from Windberg.
When he testified against Wilheim Fort, his bargain was to ensure that no charges were brought against any of the employees of the Gambler’s Den. It was a brazen attempt to direct any and all repercussions upon his person in light of Franco’s apparent passing. That was, for him, his responsibility in the matter. Security had been his forte and even when the train itself had been reduced to shattered metal, it made the role no less prominent. His burden was the protection of those who had rode upon it.
When the bargain was made and done, finding not even the company of his working family to soothe his grief-born anger he set to the north. The promise of the cooler climate – the green lands of Eifera – were too alluring. Solitude was his intention, but instead of reaching the capital of the north, he fell quickly into disarray, barely making it halfway. Crawling through bar after bar, the days were drowned under cheap booze and brawls. Mornings were found in dank alleyways, normally nursing a hangover and new collection of bruises. Without a home, life had become cold and unfeeling.
Security had been everything he had ever done: a profession that was equal parts honourable and murky. His proficiency for enforcing the safety of others failed to extend to his own. It was a grim irony, though one self-imposed and fashioned from terrible self-loathing.
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