Jacques was unable to hold in his smile. He balled up the towel and tossed it behind him. Resting his weight against the frame, he took Wyld’s new appearance in and waited for the inevitable to happen.
‘Don’t say a bloody word,’ Wyld demanded, her stubbornness extending to not even making eye contact.
Chapter 30
A gamble too far
The Morning Star tore across the landscape. Misu had decided to abandon the final few drops. By the time Wilheim found out, she would be knocking at his door. That difficulty would be dealt with in due time. What she was worried about was actually arriving. The heat was sweltering, making the cramped conditions on the train even more demanding.
The boxcar closest to the end of the train was filled with Juniper’s men. They readied their weapons, tended to their ammo, and performed every preparation that Marshal Juniper had ordered, twice in fact. His speech, which to him was to inspire their resolve, resulted in the grim threats that if any of them should hesitate in their duty, children would become fatherless, wives would become widows, and mothers would sob. It was hardly the best encouragement, though the men were used to it by now and sat, waiting for their arrival.
Alex Juniper, content with a job well done, paced through the cars and poured himself a drink from the lounge’s bar. He failed to engage any of the women he passed, instead moving straight for Misu’s private carriage to discuss progress. He didn’t make it that far, as he stumbled upon Jacques who squatted on a crate, nursing the lingering effects of alcohol consumption. The marshal looked at the sullen, cracked face that acknowledged his entrance and he tutted.
‘It looks like hard times have fallen upon you, son. Not a sight I wanted to see,’ Juniper stated, whilst checking his tunic, polishing up the badge of authority that was fastened over his left breast. ‘Good to see that young Misu there has taken pity upon your poor soul. Bless her heart to be doing something charitable for the bums out here.’
Jacques broke his silence, tugging on the skirt trail of Colette who carried a box of ammunition from carriage to carriage. ‘Coffee, black, if you would be so kind.’ He didn’t call her by name and Juniper guessed he couldn’t damn well remember.
Colette nodded in agreement, though turned away before Jacques could see her look of pity.
‘So what will be your role in all this?’ Juniper continued, leaning against the carriage side with an outstretched arm. He asked his question while looking under the head of a window frame to the racing dunes outside. ‘Anything that I should object to?’
‘Nothing too complex. Just good old-fashioned revenge,’ Jacques stated. The showgirl returned, slipping a mug into his hands, and letting her fingers linger momentarily in comfort before returning to her tasks. A thank you slipped out from his lips.
‘That’s a long line to join there. I sympathize that you want to put a bullet into Mister Fort but please do remember that justice is paramount. Me and mine are here to carry out said justice. We are taking the lead on his capture. Please don’t make that any more difficult than it’s expected to be.’
‘Are you calling me a liability, Juniper?’
‘That’s Marshal to you, boy. And I don’t like to throw words like that around, as folks might just get the wrong idea about me … but yes. I am. Very much so.’ He sneered, enjoying the banter, but indicated full well that it needn’t go any further – for his sake.
Jacques tipped his head and drained the mug until it emptied. He waved at the woman opposite who was busying herself.
‘Any chance of another?’
Colette complied, this time a glimmer of a smile beneath the concern.
* * *
‘Leave him be, Marshal, he’s doing just fine. Jacques has been a steadier hand than any. There’s nobody else I trust more to take with us than him and that goes for all your handsome boys in blue,’ Misu interrupted. She closed the door behind her, strolling inside and stepping between them. This was her train and her passenger. If anyone would berate him for his outlandish behaviour, it would be no one else but her. ‘We all have our jobs in this. We’ll do our part. Just be ready to fulfil yours. I wouldn’t want to be left hanging there by myself, just waiting.’
Juniper scoffed. ‘Unlike other sorts, I’m a man of my word.’ His eyes flicked to Jacques who failed to rise to the slur. ‘We don’t turn tail against adversity. Your folks will be under our protection so there’s nothing to fear. Lucky them, right?’
‘That’s a reassurance.’
‘How long do we have until we arrive?’
‘Another fifteen minutes. Are your men ready?’
‘They’re good to go.’
‘Remember – you don’t go in until we’re clear. If you blow this, there’s going to be hell to pay for all involved. Do not get jumpy. Make sure your men don’t get us all killed while you’re at it.’ Misu brazenly prodded his breast. Juniper took one glance around him and left them to their own affairs. He had matters of his own to attend to.
Now it was her turn to prepare. Misu took her revolver from its holster and gave it the once-over. She checked the arm on her revolver cylinder repeatedly, keen to ensure it would snap out without difficulty. The last thing she needed was for the weapon to fail her in a firefight. The greased chambers slid the bullets back and forth with presses of her finger. All the while Jacques watched, drawing on the third steaming mug of coffee in an hour. Every sip made him grunt.
‘Are you sober yet?’ Misu finally asked.
‘I’ve drank enough damn black stuff. I’m telling you, I’m good for this.’ He pouted, putting the cup down.
‘We’ll be there soon. Get ready and stow yourself away with the Bluecoats. We need you later.’
Jacques shook his head. ‘Your thinking is wrong. I’m coming with you as soon as you step off.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘It’s my right to do this given the situation.’
‘The hell it is,’ Misu objected, sizing the man up. He was a mess. Even with a new set of clothes to replace his torn and stained attire, he was gaunt and dishevelled. Once he was famed for his protection. Now he could become a liability, proverbially jumping the gun and causing all manner of trouble if unchecked. ‘I told the marshal that you were as steady a hand as anything, but look at you. You’ve got the shakes something bad; you’re back-up at best. Point a gun at me and prove otherwise.’
She spun the revolver over the trigger guard and offered it handle first. Jacques took grip and pointed it, quite determined, at her head. They watched each other. Misu waited for his first breath after he inhaled quickly to steady himself. The burst of air came. So did the violent tremor that shook the barrel. With a bow of his head, Jacques conceded. He tried to not to linger on the redness that pulsed on Misu’s left cheek.
‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
‘You’re not the only one. What happened to you?’ Misu queried, a question she had been burning to ask since she saw the state he had made of himself.
‘Covering your ass,’ Jacques grunted. He tried to laugh but it emanated as a dry cough. The craving for a drink was enormous. ‘Doing what needed to be done no matter the cost. Did you think there would be no repercussions to what the pair of you schemed? It would have been a matter of time before Wilheim’s people come after the girls to get to me. I paid for your disappearing act. Someone had to take the brunt of that, seeing that you two were … you know.’
Jacques shuffled on his behind, blinking tears back. His voice cracked repeatedly, recalling the horrific details that a multitude of vices had been suppressing.
‘Do you know what I ended up doing on your behalf? Killing kids. Wilheim sent youngsters, no older than seventeen at times, to put a knife or a bullet in me. They always had a message to deliver before they got started and I remember each and every one. I actually lost track of how many young bloods I pinned to the ground and had bleed out beneath me. I don’t know how many I ended up in tussles with and broke with my o
wn two hands. I tried to keep everyone safe like he asked of me.’ Jacques swallowed deeply, clenching his eyes tight. ‘All that? It took its toll.’
‘Consider such business over and done with. You’re off the hook. Us girls can look after ourselves. We have done so for a year without your pleasant company and we’re now apt at it. Do this one for yourself. No one else.’
Jacques leant back with a pout. He withheld his brewing cynicism, nodding slowly in agreement. His brow flickered with a whisper of emotion.
‘He alive?’
‘What is it with you and assuming people are dead? I honestly don’t know,’ Misu sighed. ‘Right now, I’m assuming yes until I’m proven wrong with my own eyes.’
‘What did Wyld say?’
‘Someone was working him over when she got eyes on him. From her account, he’s already in … you know –’ she swallowed ‘– in pretty bad shape.’
‘So this thing might be a bust.’
‘It’s as worthy a cause as any.’
‘It’s a fool’s errand if he’s already dead.’ Jacques scowled.
‘Oh and I suppose your busy schedule is hampered by the inconvenience, right?’ Misu brushed his disagreement aside. There was no use in such thoughts, for they would do nothing but temper morale into something useless. ‘I need you to do as you’re told out there. No deviations and certainly none of those creative moments that you’re prone to,’ she impatiently added.
‘It’s funny that you’re giving orders when it seems like Juniper is calling the shots.’
* * *
Jacques didn’t mean to annoy the woman. It wasn’t intentional, he even agreed with her points, though found sarcasm creeping out. He blamed it on the prolonged seduction of drink. Misu took the weapon back and holstered it to her hip.
‘I’m running the show – don’t delude yourself thinking otherwise. The Morning Star is still under my control and that’s not changing any time soon. We need the Bluecoats for what comes next. They either get to parade as a weapon or a shield for us and I’m fine with either. As far as I’m concerned this is a mutually beneficial arrangement and we act as such.’
‘What does this here marshal get from our heroics?’
‘He gets his hands on Wilheim. We get ours on Franco. Everybody is happy. I wrangled the deal myself so don’t go spoiling my plan now.’
‘Oh?’ Jacques queried. ‘Your plan is it?’
‘Unequivocally so,’ Misu confirmed. ‘Stop all of this. I am sorry for your hardships, I truly am and I’m sure Franco is too and will tell you so. Things have ballooned out of control and this is an attempt to correct that. I am not your fight. It is yet to come. Now get yourself ready. It can’t be long until we’re there. Okay?’
Her fingers ran over his greasy hair in reassurance, lingering as his eyes fluttered to a close. He knew she wanted to feel pride in his presence, like she had many times before. Instead, there was only pity, something he was all too aware of.
‘Yeah.’ Jacques swallowed. ‘Yeah, I got it.’
* * *
From the outset, Low Dashi looked like any normal abandoned mining town. Weather-beaten structures had begun to submit to the harsh desert winds, some semi-submerged, others with their doors and windows hanging from their frames. Houses had been abandoned for years, taverns quiet. Signs of light industry were everywhere. Spotted rail tracks for hand carts protruded now and then, some of the carts that would have carried ore either still straddling them or turned over.
Past the main street, crawling up the hillside loomed a single factory, five storeys tall, crowned with crumbling chimney stacks. The factory had been constructed on the hillside complete with a mine, the headframe of which – a colossal tower harbouring a pulley that operated the lift for those who ventured down – loomed alongside it. It was a dead place, with nothing but dead things inhabiting it, inside and outside according to Wylds’ feedback. It would be easy to assume that Misu would be alone when stepping off onto the creaking boards that made up Low Dashi’s station, but this was far from the truth.
As soon as the door had opened, Misu had seen the shapes move flat on the rooftops, the shadows from the dark interiors that peeked from windows. She was correct to assume that they were in the right place, beckoning the offloading showgirls to accompany her. They were not as keen-eyed as their manager but had been warned that this would be a venture to the wolves’ den and danger was inevitable. They had all agreed, unanimously, to face this terror together though some were more skittish than others.
Elizabeth spoke a small prayer as she stepped out, trying not to check every hiding place for a telescoped rifle. Corinne maintained her composure, ensuring those who looked to her for strength found it to be unwavering. Katerina was one of those, her fingers fidgeting with worrying frequency. Colette, who was remarkably composed, muttered things to steady her colleague.
Wyld took a long, slow breath, stepping alongside Misu, the platform boards creaking loudly beneath her. She too had noticed the shapes move in the sun, their camouflage not quite as perfect as they intended. She counted up those she could see and made an assessment as to the number that she could not. The math did nothing to quell her concern. Up north she had taken part in all manner of conflicts, larger than this and with plenty more at stake. But without those who fought beside her and especially without Umbra in attendance she felt somewhat naked.
‘I feel like it’s the appropriate time to say this plan of yours is stupid,’ Wyld whispered, catching sight of the flash from a rifle scope on a rooftop. Her instincts told her to dash for cover.
‘Then you’re just as foolish to be here,’ Misu replied.
‘Someone had to give you a fighting chance doing this. To think I could be at home right now, drinking port by the gallon and being ignored by a handsome man who considers me a friend at best. What a life to sacrifice.’
Corinne stepped alongside, stoic and anxious for this matter to begin. The sight of an animal carcass buzzing with flies in the abandoned street felt like a warning sign to those trespassing. The remains were only a day old but thankfully its smell had yet to reach their noses. From the way its body was twisted and the wound itself, it looked like the poor thing was used for target practice, a desert wolf judging by its size and coat.
‘This is definitely the place.’ Corinne counted the moving bodies that ducked in and out of sight. ‘If they wanted to kill us, they would have done so already. I’ve counted eight so far ready to give us a nice, warm welcome. I always dreamed of being left to rot in some back-ass ghost town.’
‘Let it never be said that I’m not of the generous sort.’
Misu turned and inadvertently smiled, before noticing the crestfallen glare of Corinne, still raw at their disagreement.
‘Stick to the plan and everything will turn out fine.’ Misu spoke with conviction.
Corinne breathed heavily through her nose. No matter the outcome, this was where all things had led. It was impossible to turn back now. ‘Liar,’ she stated.
Misu smirked to herself. ‘Yes. I suppose I am.’ Loose sand drifted before them, carried by small breezes. ‘Deep breaths, girls. Here we go,’ Misu said.
The procession began to advance, moving in formation up the streets, where fractured buildings accommodated nothing but shadows and occasional vermin. The steepness was challenging, causing a few in the group to begin breathing a touch deeper than usual. Up the street a line of bodies broke the sun, casting long shadows over flagstone. Grim-looking figures strolled towards them, weaponry proudly on display.
Donovan drove a fist into a gloved palm in intimidation on his approach, surveying the concerned faces and relishing each one. Misu had ordered a stop upon their sight and soon they were close enough to speak. The mass had no need to draw their weapons, as hidden guns were aimed from shadows as well as in plain sight. They knew this. Misu knew this and it was a given that every showgirl among them knew this. Trouble would be dealt with violently, though there was no
possibility of that. Nobody could be that stupid. Besides, the arrivals were unarmed.
‘Little birds normally fly from their nests, Misu. Do you want to explain what you’re doing here? Or more precisely why we shouldn’t fill you with holes where you stand?’ Donovan demanded, looking over each one for a sign of difficulty. His associates did the same, just as grotesquely as the one who led them.
Their last entanglement, when she was dragged away to answer for her crimes, resided at the forefront of both minds. Donovan: just as cruel as he ever was. Misu: much meeker than the woman who confronted him now.
‘I’m here to see Wilheim,’ Misu answered, standing her ground.
‘And what, you just want to walk on in uninvited? No, you know better than that. You know him better than that. We have orders to shoot any and all intruders. Why should you be different?’
‘Because I say so. If you were going to shoot us, you would have done so the moment we stepped off. Now stand aside.’
‘Stand aside?’ Donovan’s laughter rolled over and over, those with him repeating in amusement. ‘Just like that, stand aside. I admire your good humour but it’s misplaced. Here, we take all things seriously.’
‘I am serious. It figures you can’t tell the difference. This would be why you’re stuck out here just doing sentry duty. Grunt work,’ Misu spat. ‘How dull. Are you going to keep talking and bore us to tardiness? In case you haven’t noticed we’ve got somewhere to be.’
Misu scowled beneath her fringe. Over Donovan’s left shoulder a flock of crows took flight and settled a few roofs away. The culprit of their disturbance adjusted his position, hovering a shaky crosshair over their heads.
‘You’re going nowhere until I say so.’
Den of Stars Page 31