Ray hid it under his vest and looked over the lake toward the horizon. This crate was from Toronto. The bottle came from Spenser’s Department Store. Ray could have laughed if the entire thing wasn’t so dreadfully morbid. He came to Chicago to help Viola and stumbled upon a Toronto news story instead.
Ray wanted to see what they did with the body. More still, what they were importing that could possibly come from Spenser’s Department Store. It could, of course, have been a fluke, but with all of the corruption he was accustomed to in his city’s hierarchy, he wouldn’t be surprised if the trail led here.
Hedgehog’s voice came from behind him. “Job is done for the night,” he said, pressing a few greasy bills into Ray’s hand in a wad. “But I’m impressed by you. You’re wiry but strong, and you didn’t even bat an eye at that poor bloke, which means you’ve got the temperament I’m looking for.”
“I figure what isn’t my business isn’t my business. As long as I get paid.”
“Good man. You might be who I am looking for. Tomorrow night. Pays a little more. Slight chance of a run-in with the coppers, but I’ve already paid off the right ones. Any interest?
Ray rubbed the back of his neck. “I could use the money,” he said honestly, while his brain added and the story. Every paper counted.
“Good man. Here’s the address.” Hedgehog scribbled a street number and time on a slip of paper. “Figure we should meet proper if we’ll do business together. I’m Hedgehog.” The man’s hand was all knobby knuckles, scars, and grime. “And you are?”
“I’ll shake your hand, and I’ll do good work. But my name is my own.”
Hedgehog’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on Ray’s hand tightened slightly. Ray stared him straight on, unblinking, wondering how he might react.
“Fair enough” was the man’s eventual response.
Ray pocketed the piece of paper while having a sudden thought and mentally calculating the distance between Toronto and Chicago. “If I had a trustworthy friend, interested in the same kind of payout, would he be welcome?”
“Another nameless chap like you?”
Ray shrugged. “Big, though. Strong. Unafraid of hard work.”
“Bring him along. Some of my regulars are serving time, and I can always use another body.”
Back on the main road, a smile curved Ray’s cheek as dawn touched the horizon. He fingered the dirty bills in his hand and decided on his next destination. First a boardinghouse, and then a drugstore on Michigan Avenue. He needed to make a telephone call.
* * *
*Ray wondered how the man could find it nice and comfortable when the slight breeze from the window did little to dispel the invasive heat.
†When Jem proposed to him in a most unladylike fashion at the Winter Garden theatre, he had pressed it into her hand in lieu of a ring.
‡Ray had no trouble deciphering the origin of his name. His small close-set ears and wide head were a sure giveaway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is no room for the slightest mistake when in pursuit of your prey. Be it hare or caribou, the most obvious tell to your prey is to waver from your pursuit and path. Even if your compass spins without true north or your map is lost, the earth around you is your guide. There is no margin of error when you rely on your instincts, no matter where they lead you.
Benfield Citrone and Jonathan Arnasson, Guide to the Canadian Wilderness
Jasper couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. Almost twenty-four hours later, he kept revisiting the site in his mind’s eye. And once he followed that trail, he couldn’t help but think of the trolley explosions. All of those lives lost, and all he had to show for it was a tiny wire, tied with precision and care. He studied the latest of the knotted wires discovered on the pavement near Osgoode Hall after the automobile explosion.
He was sick of looking at Skip’s rather impressive photographs capturing the first moments of panic and disarray. They were almost—and here Jasper paused—too talented a look at the immediate aftermath. He had always been relatively impressed by Skip’s skill with a camera, but the man seemed to know exactly where to shoot and when. He was always first at the scene these days.
He was just making a few rudimentary notes when the telephone on his desk jangled.
“Ray, you can’t be calling from the Hog. You sound so very far away.” Jasper startled upright in his chair. “You what? Chicago!”
Jasper ran his fingers through his hair. Chicago? Was this another harebrained rescue for his sister?
Ray’s voice seemed to be coming through a rusty tunnel. “I found another one of those knots.”
Jasper gripped the piece more tightly. “Where?”
“I was following Tony and discovered he works at the docks. Overseeing shipments. Taking a van around the city and unloading and loading heaven knows what at his boss’s request. I was unloading some tugboats, working for a fellow named Hedgehog, and one of the boxes contained a corpse. The knot, I believe, fell out with the body. I have no idea where it came from.”
“No one has identified the corpse?”
“No. Probably just another down-on-his-luck drifter like the rest of these men.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“I don’t want to because I think there may be a story, and the police would pounce on this place immediately. Shut down the operation before I can get the whole scoop. And there’s a Toronto connection here. You told me the other day you are having trouble trusting Tipton, and neither of us trusts Montague or Spenser. Well, you will never guess what I found along with that knot.”
“No.” Jasper was in no mood for guessing games. “I could not,” he said pragmatically.
“A syrup bottle. From Spenser’s. The shipment was from Toronto. The corpse is from Toronto.”
“I don’t have any jurisdiction in Chicago, Ray. It could be anyone. A fluke. Surely they carry maple syrup all over the place.”
“Exactly. Which is why your job is to find out who Spenser’s supplies.”
“And then what?”
“Come to Chicago.”
“Ray… ”
“Jasper, I know you want to see the end of this anarchy business, and it is here, in Chicago, now, and with, I think, a Toronto connection. I need to keep an eye on Viola and Luca. I need… ” Jasper could hear him swallow. When his voice came back, it was raspier than before. “I need to fix this problem with my brother-in-law. This constant, unending problem. I can’t involve the police. Not that they would do much good. Hedgehog’s told us he’s bribing officers. Clearly Toronto isn’t the only city where the police are corrupt.”
“What can I do?”
“I need you here. I need to know how Hedgehog’s business is tied to the trolley incidents.”
“I’m still dealing with those trolley incidents. You know I want to help you, but I’m needed in Toronto.” Jasper looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes. “Jones died, Ray. Yesterday morning. Another explosion.”
“This is getting… This is… I’m sorry. But see—now you can find some kind of justice for Jones. Jasper, please. We need to get to the bottom of this. Besides, I already said you’d do it.”
“Do what?”
“You hurt my ear from here. Calm down. Some job that this snake and his men lined up. I said I’m bringing a friend.”
“Maybe you should… ”
“Maybe I should what? Hire Jemima and Merinda?” Ray cut sardonically. “Yes, they’d be so useful digging through the rubble of the latest explosion.”
Jasper exhaled. He wanted to help Ray, definitely, but he also felt he owed it to Jones and his memory to see the anarchists and their bombs out of his own city for good. But Ray was right. They needed to root out this evil once and for all. Moreover, how flustered would Merinda be to look up and notice he was gone? On his own adventure. With nary a word to her. It wasn’t as if they were speaking to each other anyway. He didn’t care if he ever saw her again… He didn’t…
�
�Jasper, are you still there?”
“I have to go,” he said shortly.
“So you’re not coming, then.” Ray’s voice sounded distant and deflated. “Jasper… ”
“No, I have to go tell Tipton I’m taking a week’s leave.”
Jasper could almost see that bright, full DeLuca smile from over the receiver, even as Ray gave him the address of his boardinghouse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
If one is to undertake the unparalleled adventure of the Canadian wilderness, one must be at once familiar with the history of the Force: initially trackers across the prairies, stopping rebellion, whiskey running, and cattle rustlers. Ruling with honest code rather than the threat of bullets. The war against the Boers began and the Canadian redcoats honored Her Majesty Victoria by fighting in her name in a faraway conflict. They returned, a hybrid of the cowboy and militiaman, larger than life, larger than the untamed land they patrolled through sleet and rain.
Benfield Citrone and Jonathan Arnasson, Guide to the Canadian Wilderness
As Jasper was knocking on Tipton’s office door, David Ross was sending a message to King Street. Merinda received it from the messenger and tore open the envelope.
“An address,” she said to Jem, “for when we reach Chicago.” She folded the paper and tucked it in her pocket.* “It seems they cannot do any of this without us. My deductive prowess—not to mention my ability to be a chameleon in any situation and Benny’s proficiency at sniffing out a bobby from a mile away—are invaluable to this cause.”
A few telephone calls, and Merinda’s father’s funds secured two comfortable passages to Chicago as well as a room at the Palmer House Hotel.
“I don’t think we need to stay somewhere quite that extravagant,” Jem said, hearing Merinda relay Walter Herringford’s absolute insistence on the upper-class hotel.
“Nonsense.” Merinda shooed away her reservations. “He has the money and we like the comfort. No one will suspect girls at a grand hotel of being on the trail of dangerous anarchists!”
“I should leave word for Ray.” Jem chewed her lip, wondering if it was best to telephone the office with a message or return home and leave a note there. “Just in case he comes back and… ”
“No!” Merinda grabbed her arm, tugging her playfully in the direction of the attic where a trunk of pants, bowler hats, moustaches, and wigs awaited them. “You can tell him in person! We’ll all be together!” Merinda made it sound like Christmas dinner.
Benny put a few bills on the counter at the Empire Hotel and gave the barkeep a smile and a tip of his cap.
He had just become familiar with the sounds of Toronto, he thought. The whirring automobiles and halting streetcars warring for right of way on the harried streets didn’t faze him as they had just days before. Perhaps Merinda could tame the city for him, he thought before he could stop himself.
He presented himself at the door to the King Street Flat, smiled broadly, and tipped his cap. “Good Morning, Mrs. Malone. I am here to help the ladies with their luggage!”
It wasn’t unlike portaging, he decided while wrestling with Jem’s heavy suitcases and Merinda’s rucksack. He wondered why it clanged so much.†
It wasn’t long before their train was screeching out of Union Station and chugging away under a bright blue sky.
Benny and Merinda settled across from each other in the dining car while Jem looked for the lavatory at the end.
“It’s only in the past few months that I have become accustomed to trains,” Benny said.
“Accustomed?”
“They’re so fast. I couldn’t believe anything went so fast. Or needed to go so fast. In Regina, I used to take a horse out to the track and bump along, and when the train first chugged out of the station, it was easy for me to keep pace. But then it sped up too quickly… ” He shook his head. “And I lost pace. There was nothing even the swiftest animal had on the machine’s steel and wheels.”
“Your life is so different from mine,” Merinda said, watching him.
“And my first automobile ride? When I first moved to training? That was something else. Jonathan talked me off my ledge. I was apprehensive. He said it was like a metal horse.” Benny chuckled. “But an automobile doesn’t feel, nor does it nudge your shoulder with its nose. With your horse, there’s an equilibrium. He talks, just not in the human language, and you form some sort of communication. With an automobile? It doesn’t know what you’re thinking. You can’t clench your feet and move your knees to let the horse know you want to go faster. You can’t jiggle the rein or pull on the bit. You have a wheel and a pedal and a gear.”
“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“The world’s moving too fast for me, Merinda. Women in trousers and big electric lights? They wouldn’t believe me if I told them at my post up north.”
“How do you get any news up there from… from civilization?”
Benny laughed. “Oh, there’s civilization up at Fort Glenbow. It’s just different from what you’re used to with your streetcars and your marquees.” He kindly took the cup of tea the waiter offered him, and Merinda followed suit. “Mostly the community westward takes a lot of patience and communication. What you find is two very different groups of people trying to understand each other. I don’t always speak the language the natives do. When I try, they lapse into English with far more proficiency than I would ever share in their tongue. We live with nature too. And animals. I can tell when a wolf is near. I can trail a criminal using a path of broken twigs. I can map the stars.” He shrugged. “And who needs the city when he can see the stars?”
Merinda was spellbound, but she couldn’t let him know that. So she said, “I can see the stars.”
“Can you? High above those skyscrapers? That big arcade on Yonge? The rail building? It’s the tallest in the empire, isn’t it? Blocks the stars.”
“I can!” She was adamant. “Besides, what company do you have out there with you? Just you and a few wolves?”
Benny nodded thoughtfully. “It can get lonely. But I’ve never minded much being on my own. I understand the world better when I can live in my own thoughts.”
“When you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone,” Merinda translated.
“Exactly.”
“When you don’t have to worry about anyone mistaking your tone or the way you talk for being… cold… or odd.”
Benny smiled. “Of a sort.”
Merinda traced the windowpane with her index finger, thinking it would be nice if the train took forever to reach its destination.
Jasper Forth had never done anything quite so spontaneous, so reckless or foolhardy, as telling Tipton he was taking leave. First Tipton asked why he needed a warrant signed for Spenser’s requisition and shipping orders. Jasper lied for the second time in his life.‡ When pressed, he had described the time off as “well, a sort of vacation, to see about an old friend.” And then he’d dashed to the train station to secure a ticket to Chicago.§
Now, parched and unsettled, wishing for something to settle his nerves as he pursued a trail of uncertain consequence, Jasper twisted ungracefully through the aisle. He had not yet mastered the art of squeezing his tall frame through enclosed, moving spaces. Bumping up against another passenger, then, was not wholly a shock to him. But stepping back and registering that person? A shock indeed.
“Jemima!” His eyes went wide. Her face betrayed the same surprise.
“Jasper!”
“Jem, you look most unwell.” Indeed, her skin was almost translucent.
“I’m not used to the motion.”
He nodded. “Me neither, eh? I plum ran into you.”
“I need to sit down for a moment,” she said. Jasper quickly found them two seats and guided her into a chair. “I wish the world would stop spinning,” she said after a minute, opening her eyes.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Just a little dizzy.”
The color was returni
ng to her face. “So now you can tell me where you’re going,” he gently prodded.
Jem swallowed. “Ch-Chicago,” she said slowly.
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “So Ray summoned you too?”
Jem shook her head. “No. Of course not. He… Wait. Did Ray ring for you?”
Jasper nodded. “He’s found a… Well, it’s something attached to a case I’m working on in the city.”
“The anarchist bombs and Jonathan?” Jem’s eyes were saucers.
“Something like that. Jem, it’s dangerous. He wouldn’t want you to be following him unescorted into a strange city and… ”
“Oh, I’m not alone,” Jem said easily. “Benny Citrone and Merinda are waiting for me in the dining car.”
Jasper Forth held a small plastic bag up to the light of the train window. What was inside the translucent cover was tiny, like string.
“What is that?” Benny asked.
Jasper slid the object across the table. “A bit of wire from the explosion yesterday. We’ve found similar bits at every one of these bomb sites. Our engineers say no such wire is used in the making of the cars.”
“This is a wire from a bomb,” Benny said. He motioned for Jasper to lean in and pointed out the delicate craftsmanship of the evidence. “That’s a Turk’s knot.” Benny used his index finger to point, and Jasper squinted in concentration. “Every member of the Force uses a Turk’s knot to tie the lanyard at the neck of his uniform. It’s regulation.”
“So this is Jonathan’s knot?”
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