Jack stayed silent as he kept out of range, the madness of his wild rush for the moment contained. Shaw had reacted instinctively, even as his henchman writhed in a pool of his own blood. Jack’s first opinion had been proven correct: the man was a fighter, and much more of a danger than the bigger Prussian he had already cut down.
He kept his eyes on Shaw even as he darted away. His opponent used the cudgel well. It would be no easy thing to take the man down with no weapon save his bare hands. He glanced back at the bar. Mary was staring at him, her hands clasped to her face.
‘Mary!’ he shouted. ‘Get the gun!’
Shaw laughed. ‘You stay where you are, Mary!’ He snapped his own instruction. ‘You help this merry little fucker and so help me I swear I’ll break your fucking neck.’ He laughed as he met Jack’s gaze. ‘She ain’t going to help you, chum. Useless bint she is, just a washed-up fucking doxy. Only good for one thing, and to be honest, she ain’t even that good a fuck.’
Jack let the insults flow by. He had killed harder men than Shaw. ‘Mary.’ He spoke calmly. ‘Get the gun. Then throw it to me or shoot the bastard yourself, I don’t care which you choose.’
Shaw whooped with delight. ‘Kill me, is it? How the fuck are you going to do that?’ He slapped the cudgel down into the palm of his free hand, repeating the action for a second and then a third time. Then he stepped forward, swinging the weapon down and aiming a blow at Jack’s shoulder.
Jack saw it coming and swayed back, letting the oak shaft skim his front. He released his fist the moment it was past, darting a punch at Shaw’s face, the swift rising blow aimed squarely at the man’s nose.
Shaw was too quick. He recovered fast and ducked away, staying low so that Jack’s fist scraped off his scalp. Then he counter-attacked, driving the cudgel end first into Jack’s gut and knocking him backwards, a wild cackle escaping his lips as he landed the first telling hit.
Jack staggered back, his breath forced from his lungs so that he gasped and sucked for air. Shaw gave him no respite and came at him again, the cudgel now held in both hands. He swung the shaft, catching Jack under the chin and snapping his head back, then drove him backwards, legs pumping as he slammed him into the wall. He pressed his weight forward, grinding the cudgel into Jack’s throat, his face no more than a single inch from Jack’s own.
‘Not so fucking hard now, are you, chum?’ The words were spat out, and Jack felt the wash of Shaw’s sour breath on his skin.
The pain came on brutally fast as his throat was crushed, the wooden shaft cutting into the soft flesh. Jack twisted his body in an attempt to get free. Shaw saw the effort and laughed, pressing his own weight forward, holding Jack in place, his delight at inflicting pain shining in his eyes.
But Jack was not done. His shoulders and arms were pinned back but his hands were free. Even as his vision started to grey, he turned his wrist then lunged his right hand forward and grabbed Shaw’s balls, the tender flesh soft under his fingers. He took firm hold, then pulled as hard as he could.
Shaw yelped with the sudden pain. He tried to get away, but Jack held him fast, twisting his wrist cruelly, his fingers holding Shaw tight.
The yelp turned into a scream. With his balls on the point of being ripped free of his body, there was no way Shaw could keep Jack pinned to the wall. He dropped the cudgel, his hands clawing at his assailant in a desperate attempt to release the merciless grip.
The pressure on Jack’s upper body disappeared as Shaw’s weapon fell away. He sucked a single breath into his tortured lungs, then slammed his head forward into Shaw’s unprotected face. It was a brutal blow, and it forced Shaw away, tearing his balls from Jack’s grasping fingers. The taller man staggered, blood beginning to pour from his nose. His sneer was gone.
Jack stepped forward. He took two more quick breaths, his throat burning as the air rushed into his grateful lungs. Then he lashed out, stepping into the blow that he aimed at Shaw’s gut. Shaw was hurting, and he could do nothing to escape the attack. Jack followed the gut punch with a second that caught his opponent on the side of the head.
‘Come on!’ He released his fury and roared with triumph as Shaw’s head came down. He smashed his knee forward, catching Shaw full in the face, then kept after the bigger man as he staggered backwards, punching and kicking, each blow landing true. The salvo hammered into Shaw’s body until finally he could take no more and he fell, hitting the floor in front of the fireplace like a sack of shit.
‘Jack! Stop!’
Mary was screaming at him to end the merciless battering. He barely heard her and cared nothing for the command. He kicked Shaw in the throat, then stamped down hard, grinding the fallen man’s hand into the floor, the sound of bones breaking barely registering under the roar of his anger.
‘Step away or so help me I’ll shoot you down.’
The threat registered. With an effort of will he staggered to one side, his breath coming in laboured gasps. He saw Mary clutching his revolver, the firearm large in her small hands. And it was pointed at him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Stand away.’ Mary lifted the weapon. ‘You’re killing him.’
Jack did not have the breath for any more words. He bent double, his hands on his knees as he hauled in painful lungfuls of air. He was struggling to understand what was happening.
‘Keep back!’ Mary shouted, the revolver waving in Jack’s direction. ‘You hear me? Keep back!’
Jack did as he was told. He managed to lift his head and saw Mary’s flushed face, her eyes wide over the barrel of the gun that still pointed at his skull. He could not believe she was coming to Shaw’s defence after hearing the filth that had poured out of the man’s mouth.
He waved a hand at the gun, trying to push it away. But Mary was already turning, hands shaking as she changed her point of aim.
He had been wrong. She was not saving Shaw. She was going to kill him.
He noticed the revolver go still in her grip. He straightened up painfully, his breathing slowly returning to something like normal. He stepped forward, coming to stand at her side as she aimed the barrel of the gun at the man who lay unmoving on the floor.
‘You bastard!’ She spat out the words, holding the revolver steady, her finger curling instinctively around the trigger.
Shaw’s face came up slowly. It was smothered in blood, a gory mask that split and cracked as he sneered at the woman standing over him. ‘You bitch.’
Mary laughed once, then pulled the trigger.
The revolver roared. In the empty palace, the sound was deafening.
Shaw screamed. He rose from the ground, his mouth stretched wide in a dreadful wail. Mary had been knocked back by the power of the revolver’s recoil, but she gamely brought the gun back down and fired again, her own shriek of terror lost as the second round roared out.
Jack flinched, his body acting on instinct. He sensed Shaw moving fast, the big man somehow finding the strength to run.
‘Shoot him!’ he bellowed, his hand slapping his thigh in frustration.
Mary brought the gun around and fired off a third shot, screaming again as she did so.
Shaw was still on his feet. Jack had no idea if he had been hit, but he did not dare move. He saw how wild Mary was with the gun and he knew that to go after Shaw was to risk taking a bullet in the neck.
‘Shoot him, for Christ’s sake,’ he urged, but Mary’s strength was failing, and the gun drooped.
Shaw made it to the door. He hauled it open, half tearing it off its hinges in his panic to escape. The moment it was wide enough, he charged out, lurching away from the threat of the bullets.
Jack and Mary stood in silence. In the aftermath of the fight, the only sounds came from the bloodied Prussian, who whimpered as he lay curled in a ball on the floor.
‘Did I hit him?’ Mary’s question broke the spell. She still held the gun, pointing it at the door.
‘No.’ Jack fought the urge to spit. The familiar rotten
-egg stink of powder smoke was thick in his nostrils.
‘I missed?’
Jack snorted. ‘You missed.’ He reached out to take the revolver from her hands. He noticed the tremble in her fingers. ‘You should’ve let me finish him.’
Mary scowled. She did not seem upset by the violence. ‘I wanted to kill the bastard myself.’
Jack slipped the still hot revolver into the waistband of his trousers. ‘It sounded to me as if you rather liked him.’
‘Don’t be a fool. You think I enjoyed letting him do those things to me?’ Mary looked ready to start another fight. She faced Jack, hands on hips, her chin lifted in defiance.
‘I don’t know what to think.’ Jack looked across at the bloodied Prussian. He had not moved, and Jack decided he posed little threat.
‘You know what I was. You think he didn’t know that too?’ Mary’s anger simmered. ‘We paid him off with more than bloody rhino.’
‘I thought all that was in the past.’
‘So did I.’ Mary tossed her head. ‘You know what they say. Once a whore, always a damn whore.’ She did not bother to hide her bitterness.
‘I don’t think of you like that.’ Jack winced as his body reminded him of the bruises he had taken. His throat was raw and every breath burned.
‘Then you came back from the wars a fool. I did what I had to do to keep this place safe. I’m not proud of it, but I ain’t ashamed of it neither.’
He heard the hardness in her words. ‘I’m not judging you, Mary. I know what life is like.’
‘Then you know why I did what I did. I had to keep this place for my Billy. He needs a home. You can understand that, I reckon.’
Jack nodded. His own mother had made hard choices to keep a roof over her son’s head; decisions he had not understood until he was long gone. Mary had done the same for her son. He had not lied. He was the last person who could ever judge another’s sins.
‘You did what you had to. Now, are you going to help me with this Prussian arsehole, or are you going to stand tossing your head around like a nervous damn filly?’
‘You’ve become one mean bastard, Jack Lark.’
‘I know.’ Jack took a tentative step towards the Prussian, who had gone worryingly silent. ‘And I bet right now you’re damn glad I did.’
Mary didn’t answer. They stood over Shaw’s henchman in silence.
‘Is he a dead’un?’ Mary spoke first. She did not sound concerned by the notion.
‘No, at least I don’t think so.’ Jack went gingerly down on to his haunches and peered closer at the Prussian. He did not look dead.
‘Shame. It would’ve made things easier.’ Mary came to crouch at Jack’s side. ‘We could’ve tossed him in the Thames and that would’ve been that.’
A pair of pale blue eyes turned their way. The Prussian was alive. Jack had the feeling he had understood Mary perfectly well.
‘Help me.’ The words came out as little more than a whisper.
Mary tutted, then looked at Jack. ‘You going to kill him?’
‘No.’ Jack could not help but shake his head at the suggestion. Mary was harder than he had given her credit for. ‘Is there someone who can help him?’
‘There’s no doctors around here. Mrs O’Fallon might help. She does for the girls when they have their babes. She could stitch him up.’
‘Get your Billy to fetch her.’ Jack stood up and pulled off his shirt. ‘Let’s at least try to keep him alive until she gets here.’
He was about to squat back down when he saw Mary staring at him.
‘You have been in the wars.’
Jack looked down. He was used to the scars. From the thick weal on the left side of his torso to the ridge of raised flesh on his right shoulder, his body bore the reminders of the battles he had fought. He shrugged, then knelt at the Prussian’s side. He felt a prick of shame at letting Mary see him half naked. Once he would have stripped off in front of her gladly. Now he just felt awkward.
‘Lie still, you,’ he whispered to the Prussian, who stared back in silence, his eyes fixed open in a mute appeal for aid. Jack glanced back at Mary, who had shown no sign of moving. ‘Don’t just bloody stand there. Send for that woman.’
As she left, he returned his attention to the man he had cut down. He winced as he saw the gaping hole half hidden under the Prussian’s hands. He folded his shirt and held it gently over the wound. There was a lot of blood, but he had seen worse.
‘I reckon you’ll be all right, mate.’
The Prussian said nothing.
‘Sorry I had to do that.’ Jack rocked back on to his heels. He had never sat with a man he had wounded. Men fell all the time in battle, those he cut down dropping away with their last shrieks of horror ringing in his ears. He remembered many of their faces, the shock and terror reflected in their eyes as they realised they were about to die. But that was all. They were gone quickly, their passing fleeting. Now he sat with a man bleeding from a wound he had inflicted, and he did not know what he felt.
‘Danke.’ The word came with a hiss of pain.
Jack did not know how to reply, so he simply sat there.
‘Why are you helping me?’ The silence had stretched thin before the Prussian murmured the question.
‘I can’t just leave you to bleed to death. That wouldn’t be right.’ Jack smiled at his own words. He had been in battles when the killing had stopped suddenly. One minute he had been in the thick of the fighting, surrounded by men clawing at one another in a desperate bid to kill or be killed. The next, each man realised that the fighting was done. He remembered the embarrassed looks as they moved apart, the odd sense of uneasy camaraderie that built even as they stood over the bodies of their fallen mates.
‘Fucking English.’ The Prussian was lying on his side. He tried to spit, but only succeeded in dribbling a glob of phlegm on to his chin.
‘I’d shut your mouth if I were you.’ Jack tried not to laugh at the insult. The Prussian was bleeding like a stuck pig, yet still he had the nerve to abuse the man who held his life in his hands. Jack thought it an admirable trait.
‘Why do you work for that bastard Shaw?’ He settled into a more comfortable position. He had done all he could. The Prussian would live or die at fate’s hand now.
‘Geld. Money. Why else?’ The Prussian closed his eyes against the pain.
‘That’s it?’ Jack was oddly disappointed.
‘Ja. What else is there?’
‘Loyalty?’ Jack looked round for Mary. He wished she would hurry.
‘You cannot eat loyalty.’
Jack grinned. He was beginning to like the Prussian. ‘So that’s all you want?’
The Prussian did not reply. His eyes were closed as he fought against the pain. It was some time before he opened them again. ‘Nein. But it’s all I can get.’
Jack nodded at the honest answer. ‘So what now? I reckon your mate Shaw left you for dead.’
‘Fuck Shaw.’
‘Fair enough.’
Jack heard a commotion coming from the rear of the palace. He felt relief. Mary’s Irishwoman had arrived. He got to his feet. He could not help but look down at the man he had half killed. He reckoned Shaw had it wrong. The Prussian was no simpleton.
‘I tell you what.’ He spoke loudly enough for the Prussian to hear him over the bustle. He saw the blue eyes look up. ‘If you live, I’ll give you a job. You can work here.’
The Prussian’s eyes closed. ‘Fucking English,’ he whispered. He said nothing more as Mrs O’Fallon bent over him and got to work.
‘He won’t be back.’ Jack leaned forward and looked at his mother. They were sitting at the table in the room behind the bar. Mary was there, but her son was already busy in the yard behind the scullery, preparing for the weekly delivery of gin that was due that morning.
‘How can you be sure of that?’ Maggie poured scorn on the notion. ‘I know Shaw. He won’t leave you be after what you did.’
‘He’ll hav
e to. I hurt him and his Prussian chum. The whole world will know it. He won’t risk another shaming.’
‘You don’t know him.’ His mother shook her head. She sat at the far end of the table, a mug of fresh tea steaming in front of her. ‘He’s an evil bastard.’
‘So am I.’
‘He’s right.’ Mary sat next to Jack. ‘He beat them both, Maggie. You should’ve seen it. He took them down in the time it takes you and me to change a bloody barrel.’ There was no sense of praise in her words. She made the verdict sound like she was damning him.
Jack’s mother still shook her head. ‘I know men like Shaw. They don’t walk away from a fight. I tell you now, he won’t just waltz back in here looking for another scrap. He’ll take you quietly, when you’re alone, when he can get you on his terms. There ain’t no fair rights round here.’
Jack refused to be warned. ‘If he does try it then I’ll just have to beat him again. I’m not going to live in fear of him or anyone else like him. This is our place and I aim to keep it that way.’
‘By hiring Shaw’s Prussian bully?’ Mary made her opinion of Jack’s odd choice clear.
‘He’ll do. If he lives.’
‘Mrs O’Fallon reckons he will. She says he bled no more than a woman with her first child.’ Maggie gave the latest news. The Prussian lay upstairs in Jack’s bed. Jack had been to see him and had repeated the offer of a less vicious employment. This time the Prussian had accepted in a more traditional way.
‘Lucky us.’ Mary was scathing.
‘He’ll keep this place safe. I thought that’s what you wanted.’ Jack tried not to snap.
‘And where will the money come from?’
‘I’ll pay him.’
‘Will you now? You rich enough to hire servants?’
‘Rich enough.’ Jack met Mary’s stare. ‘You want a lady’s maid?’
‘You can keep your money. Just make sure you keep your promises too.’
Jack thought he saw a fleeting hint of a smile on Mary’s face at the fanciful idea. He had been only half joking. He was not a rich man, not by any standards, but he was not a poor one either. His attempts to better himself had sustained his ambition whilst he had it. But he was a boy from Whitechapel. There were always ways to get some rhino, and he had not been shy of taking the opportunities when they had come his way.
The Last Legionnaire Page 5