Den of Smoke

by Christopher Byford

  ‘What’s the hold-up over there?’ Jack called from the other end of the factory as he bolted the doors up, first top, then bottom, then secured the centre with a much firmer heave.

  ‘Nothing!’ Cole loudly replied, testing it, this time with the flat of a clenched fist. ‘A bit of trouble with the lift, that’s all.’

  The unit gave a noisy pop, but nothing else. The lift stubbornly refused to move. Alvina struck it again, much firmer this time. Maybe the button was playing up. Alas, the elevator refused to budge. Alvina cursed, pulled the lattice back and searched for a screwdriver left on a nearby workbench. Maybe a wire had come loose or something – she wasn’t sure and wasn’t particularly in the mood to tolerate this trouble.

  ‘Get the lights will you, Cole?’ she asked, hands drifting around in the dark with only the streetlights for guidance.

  The light switch snapped upward with a flick of a finger but like the lift, all there was, was disappointment and darkness.

  ‘Brownout?’ Cole asked.

  ‘Maybe.’ Alvina paused her searching and any subsequent breathing. Something felt out of sorts. It wasn’t that the day shift had tidied their tools away. It wasn’t even that the elevator had broken down. The elevator had never broken down. For the lights to go at the same time was of considerable coincidence – or concern.

  Alvina courted the latter. That old familiar feeling crept down her spine. It was a slow tingle, a feeling of unease that tried to coax a shudder, though not without significant resistance. It quickly grew to dread.

  Shapes passed at speed outside, their long shadows shifting along each rhombus of illumination.

  ‘Jaaaaack?’ Alvina called out, ceasing her searching for a suitable tool. At the far end of the factory, Jackdaw was clearly oblivious to what she had noticed, busying himself with things of lesser importance.

  ‘I’m hearing a lot of talking and not enough –’

  ‘It’s a raid!’ Alvina blurted out, pulling Cole by the arm out of the lift completely. There was sudden booming all around, with both of the front and the back doors being banged upon – not by fist, but by something large, something designed to break them down. The rear doors that Jack had recently secured began to give at the locks from the impact before a crack announced their failure.

  A sudden shallow tin whistle danced on the air, reaching attentive ears. This was joined by another, then another until a crescendo had erupted, screaming in unison, the unrelenting call of Bluecoats, who brandished their weapons and demanded the surrender of all inside to immediate effect.

  Alvina watched as Jack immediately withdrew the Pendulum and unleashed everything it held. He was met with a furious onslaught of bullets in response, sending him sprawling for cover. Alvina went for the side door, finding it already occupied with the law, leaving the pair no option but to advance up the stairs to the upper floor. Feet pounded the steps in desperation.

  * * *

  Bullets peppered over sewing machines, fracturing some beyond repair. Jackdaw hunkered down behind a station, keeping to the dark for some semblance of cover. The only illumination was caused by the streetlights, producing shards of orange that flooded across the floor. From his position, he could make out a number of Bluecoats moving inside, four from a quick count but he assumed there would be more.

  Escape was paramount. He checked both points of ingress, each blocked by advancing bodies. Eight now. Alvina was correct. This wasn’t a chance search by the law, this was a full-blown raid, a raid that he was completely unready for, which made the situation more perilous. He shuffled from station to station, weapon drawn but preferring not to fire. A single death, like he had preached during the bank job, would make the law blood-hungry and this was already dangerous enough without coaxing madness from the Bluecoats.

  Tonight, it seemed like this rule was going to be broken.

  * * *

  Cole’s head pounded. He thundered up the stairs as bullets fractured brickwork and ricocheted off steel.

  ‘Cole, come on!’ Alvina called ahead in the darkness, her silhouette just visible from the outside gaslight that streamed through the windows. Suddenly her outline merged with another, before both were illuminated in a terrible flare. The shapes tangled together. A woman’s cry ripped through the air. A Bluecoat swore repeatedly.

  Cole’s feet had a will of their own, as did his rage, as he crashed between the pair to separate them. Suddenly fingers lashed out at him, clawing in desperation, struggling to make fists. Cole’s own limbs thrashed in retaliation, scrambling against the thrusting weight pinned beneath him. The clip on Cole’s holster announced its opening with a snap. It wasn’t Cole who had done so. Panic set in. The weight squirmed once more.

  A shrill bang rang out.

  Breathing became strained and ragged until the weight beneath Cole squirmed no more. He heaved, gripping the iron with both hands after turning it back on the Bluecoat whose twitches had already begun to recede. The revolver clattered free onto the floorboards.

  Alvina grunted, propping herself up against a wall.

  ‘You’re h-hurt,’ Cole stammered, squinting closely at the wound.

  ‘Figured as much. I can still run so it’s no real concern.’ She offered a strained smile, which faulted as a shock of pain ran up her arm.

  Gunshots chattered downstairs.

  ‘A good thing too,’ she added.

  ‘What about the others?’ Cole got up, retrieving his weapon. Already he could hear the Bluecoats’ calls getting louder and louder. Suddenly, a number collected at the bottom of the stairwell, calling for the pair’s immediate surrender.

  ‘There’s no time – they can look after themselves. Go for the windows!’ Alvina demanded, charging down the corridor. She fired repeatedly at the window at its end, shooting out the frosted glass, though she slowed so that Cole could overtake her. He leapt forward, smashing through before crashing on an angled corrugated rooftop. He rolled with speed, over and over before flying from its lip and landing in the street in a heap. Thankfully the Bluecoats were too busy swarming inside and securing the doors to notice him. He got to his feet, wincing from the impact, noticing that he was alone. At the window Alvina waved her hand back and forth.

  ‘Get moving, you don’t have any time to dawdle!’ she demanded, looking down the corridor as the pounding of boots neared their climax.

  ‘What about you?’

  Alvina licked her lips and seemingly looked to relish the next few minutes. ‘You don’t do what we do without having contingency plans. Go, I’ll buy you some time. Now run!’

  Cole did so and ran into the night as fast as his legs could handle.

  * * *

  Back inside, Alvina managed to reload just in time as the door to the stairs exploded open with Bluecoats. In their eagerness, one prematurely opened fire.

  A hot buzzing skimmed past Alvina, cracking the brickwork beside her. She fired in retaliation, causing snaps of retuning fire to begin. She ducked around the corner, thankful for the darkness to provide her with some degree of shelter. A nearby fuse box was punched open and hands ran over the findings inside. Of course, the Bluecoat who had been up here had disabled the lights. Thankfully, not permanently – just removed a couple of the fuses. Her hands snapped them back into place, then felt around for the master lever. Before throwing it through, she ran over a brass switch that had been wired up to a number of elements inside. A call to hold fire was issued and the shooting stopped.

  ‘I suggest you step out – slowly – and relinquish your weapon! This building is surrounded and by the authority issued to me by the regional marshal, you are hereby required to surrender without any further provocation.’ The order drifted through the darkness.

  Alvina chuckled at the lunacy to herself. She checked her grip on the addition to the lighting fuses and prepared to flick it.

  ‘Guys? You should know you’ve made a big mistake here.’ She laughed. ‘I was minding my business, doing no wrong, and suddenly out of
nowhere, you make me duck bullets? I always kept a promise that anyone who opened fire on me would be met with something in kind. Don’t be taking my defence for aggression, now!’

  ‘I apologize, miss, but seeing that you’re on the premises of these suspected individuals, we must assume you’re guilty by association. The body at my feet is tantamount to that.’ The Bluecoat nudged the fresh corpse of his kind with a foot as the others dragged it away.

  ‘Oh I’m guilty of many things, sir. But I am not one to hide. If I have your word that your guns are down, I will come out and we can square this out.’ She paused, listening intently for the answer.

  ‘You have my word,’ the Bluecoat called out. Hammers were drawn back in the pitch.

  Alvina inhaled slowly through her nose, before exhaling patiently through her mouth with her eyes closed.

  ‘And you have mine,’ she said.

  With one hand she pulled the master breaker lever into place. Lights snapped on all over the premises, from the upper-floor corridor to the factory floor beneath. It caused such surprise, some of the Bluecoats covered their eyes, now momentarily blinded by the bulbs, no matter how dull.

  That wasn’t Alvina’s intention, but an agreeable addition to the proceedings. The real surprise came when she gleefully flicked the brass switch, which had been wired up just in case a diversion was needed. Like now.

  With a snap, every light bulb in the building began to hum and glow furiously. As each Bluecoat looked up in puzzlement the booby trap showed itself. Each glass bulb in the building exploded violently in flashes of fire, spraying anybody underneath with red-hot chunks of glass. Confusion reigned and Alvina took this opportunity to charge for the corridor window and dive out, skidding down the rooftop with glass crunching beneath her.

  Her attempt at landing gracefully was thwarted by an uncooperative leg and resulted in her awkwardly crashing down into the street. She scrambled over the road, her arm now bleeding more than she cared for and her ankle sending a shock of pain with every step.

  All manner of crashing emanated from inside the factory, accompanied with the shattering of glass and the bellowing of smoke. She paused, foolishly, and thought for a moment of Jackdaw – just a single moment – until her own survival became more pressing.

  Still, somehow Alvina made it into the darkness and set off into the night to seek shelter in whatever form it took.

  * * *

  Jackdaw witnessed the bulbs glow profusely, turning the night-soaked factory floor into an artificial day. Good girl, he thought to himself. Alvina had kept her head, kept to the plan just in case things went wrong. It was one of a few booby traps the factory was lined with, but particularly effective in this scenario. He protected his head with his arms, scrunched down on the floor as the lights burst sequentially into flame. Glass peppered the ground around him, slivers bouncing off the Pendulum still in his hand.

  When the first pieces struck, Jack jumped up with his weapon out and broke his promise of passivity. Some of the Bluecoats had been caught by the small fireballs, stumbling in their ignited clothes. Some harboured injuries from the red-hot shrapnel. Anyone else was a fair target to him.

  The revolver kicked violently, bowling four backward before returning fire forced him down again. He didn’t need to get to the doors just yet, but instead to the red lever handle that was connected to all manner of pulleys and belts that served the workers with material. With a hard yank, a second plan came into play. The release brought down the contraptions with an ear-splitting crash, landing on some of the intruders and causing a calamitous riot with others in confusion.

  By utter luck, one of the wheels used to hold ropes of yarn struck a machine and flew off, smashing through one of the few windows on the ground floor before striking the kerb and stopping. A chance had presented itself. The Holy Sorceress had not abandoned him yet.

  Praising his fortune, Jackdaw sprinted at full speed through the black, broken only by the glow of fire, and dived straight out the window. The sill was too high and the remains of the window itself too prominent. As he flew, a section of twisted steel sheered his clothing, tugging him off balance so when he landed he did so heavily on his arm. What felt like hornet stings ran through it as glass took residence in his flesh, but no matter. The Bluecoats had yet to take the streets. He too made it into the surrounding alleys and formulated his escape.

  * * *

  Hidden in a drainage tunnel, Cole felt as if he was becoming one with the concrete enclosure. His hands shook violently from the adrenaline, his body still sweating and uncooperative, despite holding them tightly together for warmth. He wondered on the others and how they fared. Did Alvina manage to follow at some point? Hopefully Jack made it out without cuffs.

  And who knew where Blake was, but equally, Cole wished for his fortune too.

  Now came the pressing matter of what to do next. There were a number of places where accomplices had done work for them, safe houses that had or still did harbour goods or contraband on the Jackrabbits’ behalf. But who of these were compromised? Was one on the take? Were they all? Cole rubbed at his temples.

  There was only one place Cole could retreat to. The streets would be swarming and it seemed entirely possible that if the factory was being raided that they would have positive identification on those who were coming and going.

  So Cole ventured to the only place he knew where, he hoped at least, the law wouldn’t be watching.

  The last time Cole was at Cutter’s Inn was when he had first met the Jackrabbits and given its owner a black eye in the process. Since then he had avoided the occasional drinking session there, instead deciding to continue with busywork or organizing the ledger. He felt somewhat embarrassed that he’d harboured such fury on their first meeting but what choice did he have?

  The alley was drenched in shadow. The night sky was clear, the stars bringing with them a stifling cold. He passed a cat that hunted for its next meal of mouse, which would be in abundance, and he took to the door. The windows of the inn harboured a glow. Someone was inside at least. That was a good start to turning his luck around.

  Cole struck the door three times. Then, the door slit open, revealing Cutter’s strained eyes. He took in the sight of the man, dirtied and scuffed but standing and in need of sanctuary.

  ‘It’s you,’ Cutter grunted, remembering all too well the last time he’d darkened his doorway. But he was likely also keenly aware that Cole was one of the Jack’s men and with it came certain obligations.

  ‘We’ve had a problem. The safe house was ransacked by Bluecoats and I need a place to lay low.’

  Cole struggled for breath for what felt like an eternity until Cutter stubbornly relinquished the new chain from the door.

  ‘Just a moment.’

  As the door opened, Cole strode inside, though Cutter refused to move. Instead, out of sight previously but now very much on display, he grasped a gun that was pointed directly at Cole’s stomach. Cole froze as the door was closed and triple bolted, all the while the gun moved around him.

  ‘Put that thing away. Are you still sore about that black eye I gave you? Now’s not the time for you to be petty.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Cutter dismissed the comment, instead focusing on the most important thing. ‘Just can’t be too careful. Were you followed?’

  Cole watched the barrel move back and forth.

  ‘No. At least I don’t believe so. I was chased but that was a long while back. If anyone was shadowing me, they were led about in circles. I doubled back on myself. Lost them all. Ate some glass in the process, but better than the alternative.’ He dabbed at the sting over his forehead, its presence only now apparent. A thin cut oozed spots of blood on his fingertips.

  Cutter paused and tilted his head to the side but kept his eyes very much on the man before him.

  ‘He says he’s clean. What’s your opinion on the matter?’

  * * *

  Hidden out of sight around the door, Jackdaw snorted smoke
through his nose, attempting to allay his concerns with the thickest cigar Cutter could provide. It stank the room out with a pungent haze but he persevered. His jacket was ripped and dirtied, his knuckles raw and his lip bleeding. He tapped the cigar ash an inch from the ashtray provided, heaping it onto the table’s veneer. Not that he cared. That’s what Cutter was there for.

  ‘This one I believe. He’s terrible at lying,’ Jack grunted, taking the cigar to his lips once more. As Cole stepped through the haze, his first exclamation was about the trouble.

  ‘It sounded like they had you cornered. We tried to reach you, but were trapped on the upper floor.’

  ‘We?’ Jack asked with a patient puff.

  ‘Alvina and I.’

  Cutter took a number of bottles from the bar rack and placed them down on Jack’s table. There was no need for glasses in this circumstance.

  ‘Just you two, huh?’ Jackdaw mumbled, checking the labels for the worst thing on the table. Forgoing the more agreeable Ignatius Royal, a half bottle of Poison Burner was unscrewed and taken to his lips, the sourness inside gulped at speed. He had no intention to remain sober in light of this catastrophe. Cole watched with no small measure of concern as the bottle was placed back down among the clutter and the entire selection offered. Begrudgingly, he complied and took the smallest measure of Cainberry’s Sugarcane rum. This, for him, wasn’t a time to be drinking, especially when heads needed to be level and tempers kept in check.

  ‘What are we doing now?’ Cole waved the smoke away, agitated enough to pace the floor. Clearly Jack failing to show such urgency bothered him. Sitting around would do nothing.

  ‘We’re waiting,’ Jack stated resolutely.

  ‘For?’

  Jack paused with his bottle in hand, giving it a swirl. His eyes flickered in thought. ‘Whatever transpires.’

  Cole seated himself opposite, settling himself into the chair’s recess. He was of the opinion that it was going to be a long night.

  He would be correct.

  An hour before midnight, the door was rapped loudly and with urgency. Cutter took his place once more and cautiously opened the door a crack with weapon drawn.