Den of Smoke

by Christopher Byford

  ‘Put it away, you idiot. I don’t have time for that,’ someone called from outside, easing upon the barricade. Cutter stepped aside as Alvina barged her way inside the moment the door was unlocked.

  She brushed past her uncle with a thunderous look upon her face, pale and strained. Her feet took her to the bar, which she put her full weight upon. Her sleeve was shredded and bloody where she had caught a bullet. Immediately Cole kicked back his chair and rushed over. Alvina tried to shake the injury off.

  ‘I’m okay, I just got tagged. It’s just … just a scratch.’

  Surprisingly, Cutter dragged a basket of medical supplies he had gathered after Jack’s arrival. He predicted correctly there might be injuries when the other Jackrabbits arrived. He encouraged Alvina to sit on a stool, probably the only compassion he’d ever showed the woman in the presence of others.

  He was still her uncle after all.

  ‘Here, sit, right now.’ Hands dug into her shoulders, forcing her down. All protests were vigorously ignored.

  ‘I said I’m –’

  ‘I said now! No complaints!’ Cutter demanded. He examined her arm, removing the shredded overcoat. Within moments he was padding the wound with gauze. It was a blessing that the bullet went right through. Cole assisted, bandaging her arm, taking care to not cause any further sense of discomfort. He did so quietly, holding her arm out gently and straight to make the task easier. She spied Jackdaw still at the table, on his way to being considerably liquored up.

  ‘Jack! Are you okay?’ Alvina wheezed.

  ‘Those assholes just tried to make me more pretty than usual. Nothing serious,’ Jackdaw grunted over a bottle, red-eyed and sullen. ‘You?’

  ‘It takes more than this to keep us down, right, boss?’ Her teeth chattered as the stitching began. She compressed her eyes and whimpered aloud.

  Cole held her hand in reassurance, the fingers clamping down so firmly he thought his hand would break like tinder.

  By the time Alvina was patched up, she had taken her place at the table and attempted to sedate herself with as much alcohol as the human body could hold. Cutter had joined them all in diminishing his stock. Jack had smoked so much he believed he would be sick and all the while Cole sipped on his drink, nowhere near as inebriated as he should be, nor as calm considering the time that had passed since the raid.

  One of their number was still missing.

  Blakestone’s arrival was naturally dramatic. His pounding on the door was almost desperate, threatening to take it from the hinges. Cutter gave him the same treatment and the same suspicion. The moment Blake got inside, it dawned upon him that he was the last of their contingent to arrive. He removed his hat and overcoat, seemingly devoid of any damage, and waved away the haze that Jack had filled the room with. They all stared at him, letting him lead the conversation.

  ‘What the hell happened? Nobody knew where we were, nobody! The few who did had been bribed to look the other way. It stinks! Someone ratted us out.’

  ‘Or the law got lucky,’ Cole flatly said.

  ‘Their fortune ain’t that good. I’m telling you, it was a rat!’ he insisted.

  ‘Where were you? I was on the factory floor. Those two were upstairs. So where were you?’ Jack seethed, turning his attention to Blake. Everyone shifted uncomfortably as Blake uncharacte‌ristically stumbled over his words.

  ‘No, none of that, I asked you a question,’ Jack repeated, rising from his seat, his feet far steadier than he believed they would be. ‘Where. The hell. Were you?’

  ‘I was doing a pickup like you asked, remember? I was delayed – they needed to get the money together so I accompanied to make sure they didn’t run. I arrived back and saw the commotion from outside.’

  ‘And it took you this long to get back here?’

  ‘I thought I saw one of the Sanders hanging around. Figured they might have had something to do with it.’

  ‘You saw someone, did you? Someone skulking around looking all suspicious-like.’ Jack paced over with purpose.

  ‘Yeah. Promise.’

  ‘You promise?’ Jack mocked the statement. ‘You promise, do you? On your word and everything?’

  ‘Sure …’ Blake shimmied backward until his back was to a wall.

  ‘Because your promise just ended up with us losing everything in that safe house! You didn’t think to try and help those of us who were inside? Figured you would just leave us to it? Where were your eyes? Were you just looking in the other direction, from the get-go, or was someone paying you? Because where I’m standing, like you said, this whole thing stinks and I smell something bad … Oh so bad on you.’

  ‘Jack, don’t do this,’ Alvina mumbled through her pain but was ignored.

  ‘You really think I would do that?’ Blake seethed. ‘Go back on my word and sell everyone here out? See reason!’

  ‘I don’t know. Every time you open your mouth, you’re either contradicting me or generally pissing me the hell off. Would you do me over, Blake? Shall we find out? Do you fancy talking or do I have to coax honesty out of you?’ Immediately Jack unclipped the Pendulum from its holster and thrust it upward. The under blade threatened to prick Blake’s skin. Jack’s eyes bugged in their sockets. ‘Let’s find out exactly how loyal you really are, shall we?’

  Cole reached out with a hand, only for Jackdaw to angrily snap at him. ‘Back, Little Fish! I won’t tell you again. This is a conversation you don’t want to be part of.’

  ‘Cole …’ Alvina warned, beckoning him back with a wave of her fingers, lacking the strength to do much else.

  The Pendulum’s blade lightly bit into Blake’s square jaw, parting through the salt and pepper beard, its point scratching at skin. Despite this, it wasn’t enough for Blake to hold back.

  ‘I’m pretty tired of your bullshit,’ Blake hissed, all too aware of how jittery Jack’s trigger finger was.

  ‘Bullshit is it now?’

  ‘Yeah. Talking big, sending us out on stupid-ass plans. Idiotic, half-baked jobs that are likely to get us killed just to fuel that ever-growing ego of yours. You’ll do anything to protect the impression of the great Jackdaw, to hell with us little people. Every day it’s new trouble and we’re doing this thing without Wilheim’s backing now he’s dead. He was keeping idiots like the Sanders in check and now he’s gone, we have to contend with their shit on the daily. Need I remind you of the mess with Donovan …’

  ‘Think you can run this outfit better than me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be getting people shot at so frequently I tell you that much. I wouldn’t be wasting my time with idle threats either. I would get things done quickly so we could get back to work.’ Blake leant in closer until the tip of the blade cut into his skin. ‘And I sure wouldn’t be accusing my own of betraying the only thing he sees of worth in his life.’

  ‘Oh I’m doing a lot more than that if you don’t spill a confession. What, don’t I pay you enough to keep those lips sealed?’

  Jack was wild-eyed, clearly aflame at wanting to find out the hows and the whys for the Bluecoats coming down upon them.

  ‘You’re insane if you think I would wrong you,’ Blake grunted.

  ‘Maybe I’m insane for thinking that you wouldn’t … I don’t see you putting up any kind of a fight. Figure if I were wrong, you would be a little more adamant about the fact.’

  ‘Jack, stop it!’ Alvina called out, now quite disturbed at what was transpiring.

  ‘Quiet!’ came the reply in a roar.

  ‘If you’re so sure, how about you stop dancing around and pull that piece you’re holding on to like the only fucking thing that makes sense in this whole affair.’

  ‘Oh, bait me more. That really puts me at ease.’

  Cole bravely stepped forward, his hands out and speaking with the utmost respect. Rational thought was clearly not at play here, for the attack had rattled them all, none more so than Jackdaw himself.

  ‘Jack, come on now. We’re all in this together, and Blake
was simply lucky to not be caught out. If this was a deliberate deception, he knew that he would be the most obvious choice and you would be on him like this in a heartbeat. You’ve had your disagreements in the past but this … It makes no sense for him to have come back, does it? It would be stupid, right?’

  Blake nodded, maintaining eye contact with Jack, who observed for an admission of guilt in whatever form it may take. A flicker of the eye. A tell-tale bead of sweat. Any single excuse would have been welcome.

  ‘Yeah. As the kid says. Stupid,’ Blake agreed.

  ‘And I’ve not been with you all for that long,’ Cole continued, ‘but I do know this: you don’t endure stupid people, nor hire them. He’s loyal. We all are. Take a moment to breathe. We’re all reeling from what’s just happened. We need to think. We need you to be calm. We need you to work out what to do next. Just lower the gun, all right?’

  It took far too long for Jack to come to his senses but come he did. His grip relaxed and his weapon withdrew, leaving Blakestone to massage his throat vigorously. Air had never been so welcome in all his life.

  Blakestone paid the slightest of nods in Cole’s direction, a silent thank you for his assistance.

  Jack refused to sit down. He refused to drink. He refused to do anything in fact, except pace about, going from one end of the room to the next, all whilst visibly struggling with how to correct all this. There were too many factors at play, too many variables that were invisible to him and trying to work out a solution to this mess relied on an uncomfortable amount of guesswork.

  ‘What now?’ Cole asked, accepting a generous drink from Cutter who passed them around, eroding his own creed on keeping things sensible.

  Blake interrupted, rubbing his throat over and over. ‘They’ve got our books …’ he croaked.

  ‘The ledger won’t be an issue. I used a cypher to encrypt what’s in there.’

  ‘When did you do that?’

  ‘Did you even see me when I was cooking the books?’

  ‘No.’ Blake shrugged.

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘Cole suggested it,’ Jack muttered. ‘I’m glad he did so now. As long as it can’t be read by lawmen then we’re plenty safe. There’s a lot riding on that it holds up to scrutiny. It better do so, I’m telling you that much …’

  ‘It will, I promise you. I’ve learnt to be better. The more pressing concern is that, asset-wise, what have we lost?’ Cole asked.

  Alvina fielded the question, patting her now bandaged arm, checking to see how flexible the limb was.

  ‘Weapons. Ammo. Personal effects. Clothes. Money. Sanctuary. The whole damn lot.’

  ‘I know …’ Jack grunted, staring at his feet as if the floor would provide an answer.

  ‘They’ve got the contraband,’ Blake added.

  Alvina’s voice began to tremor. ‘T-They’ve got the root. It’ll be impounded and protected by more than we can handle. It’s as good as lost.’

  ‘I know!’ Jack looked visibly shaken. Mentally he attempted to coordinate a plan, something to salvage this absolute mess. Maybe their hideout was compromised too. Maybe they’d been followed back here. He withdrew, oblivious to the others talking to him. It took Alvina’s prompts until Jackdaw exploded in impatience.

  ‘Boss. Boss! Jack!’

  ‘WHAT?!’

  Alvina grimaced in concern, not for his outburst but from the simple name she uttered.

  ‘… Donovan.’

  Blood drained from Jackdaw’s face, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The summons

  For three days the Jackrabbits kept as low a profile as possible. The papers were riddled with speculation about the shoot-out with unknown assailants and the group had, wisely, kept themselves inside. Alvina’s uncle only ventured out for food should it be desperately needed for even now messengers and delivery boys were unreliable. It was easy to expect one to be on the take. All the while Jackdaw attempted to deduce what happened, and what their next step should be.

  Their number, bar one, were all under one roof and it didn’t take too long until their missing number tracked them down.

  ‘I’ll say this for you, Jack,’ Ralust grunted as he strolled inside, the front door hastily locked up behind him, ‘you sure know how to garner attention.’

  ‘What’s the damage?’ Jackdaw asked, not entirely convinced that he wanted the answer to that. He joined Ralust at the bar, pouring one of Cutter’s best.

  ‘The good news is that apparently the marshal deems you to be just an annoyance. There’s no word of him forming a unit with the express desire to haul you all off in chains. It turns out that the raid was brought about by an anonymous tip. I asked around but nobody was giving up how it came about. I suspect someone saw you with the take but that’s just my opinion.’

  ‘How’s the heat?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go back to the factory, that’s for sure. Lucky for you, the foremen are still on your side. They had already spoken to the workers upon hearing of the commotion so there’s no possibility of them being questioned. Of course, everything’s been impounded. I hope for your sake you didn’t keep anything that could personally identify you to the Bluecoats.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘That’s not a possibility.’

  Alvina chipped in. ‘We’re ghosts anyway. It’s not like we have a need for a damn diary or some such.’

  ‘It’s a fine way to get a rope necktie,’ Blake scoffed.

  Silence befell them as they all looked towards Cole.

  ‘What?’ Cole took offence at the implied slip-up. ‘Let me guess. You’re suspecting me, just because I’ve been with you the least amount of time, to have done something incredibly foolish to incriminate myself?’

  Blake narrowed his visible eye. ‘Remember, you said that, not us.’

  Cole scowled. ‘Of course not! To even insinuate such a thing is laughable.’

  ‘Not hearing a no there …’ Alvina teased, puckering her lips.

  ‘What about that ledger of yours?’ Ralust enquired. ‘Figure it’s going to hold up to the scrutiny?’

  Jackdaw intervened. ‘We discussed that already. It’s watertight, unless there’s been a considerable slip-up on that front.’

  ‘Here’s hoping that’s true then.’ Ralust turned back to the table and gave a pained sigh. ‘Well now, Jack, the next step is up to you. Care to divulge how we’re getting out of this mess?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do for the time being. We hunker down and we wait.’

  ‘Wait?’ Ralust tilted his grizzled head to the side, his glasses slipping halfway down his red nose. ‘What for?’

  ‘The inevitable.’

  * * *

  It took seven days holed up at Cutter’s before Jack’s prediction came to pass. By this point the Jackrabbits found their isolation frustrating. Cole especially had found things difficult, considering that being in such constant close proximity with one another inevitably led to arguments. Staying underground was one thing. Doing it with company was a difficulty all in itself.

  A single pale envelope was slid beneath the door, unnoticed by everyone until the following morning. Cutter handed it over, straight-faced, to Jackdaw the moment it was discovered. It was hurriedly opened and read. The contents caused him to slump on a counter stool and curse, first quietly, then violently loud, launching the crumpled paper at a wall. Despite being expected, the summons was nonetheless despised.

  Alvina took it upon herself to unfold it and handed it to the others in turn. Jack retreated into himself. He didn’t want to converse, found very little interest in food and – shockingly – even snubbed the drink.

  The others gave him a wide berth until, in the early hours, Alvina decided she’d had enough. She didn’t intend to confront Jack, not in the conventional sense at least, but whatever he was doing seemed to only be good for riling the rest of them up.

  Alvina stepped out onto the inn rooftop, overlooking the blackene
d streets that gaslight had yet to touch. Some of the nearby bars, traditionally rowdy, had long fallen silent, their patrons sleeping off what passed for booze. Treading along the roof, she approached the hunched figure illuminated only by the orange glow of a lit cigarette, like a gargoyle atop a church buttress.

  ‘Hiding away, huh?’

  Jack said nothing, exhaling a wisp from his lips. Alvina held her hand out and was offered the smoke, which she accepted. She took a draw and handed it back with a thanks as cool as the air.

  Jack’s eyes were not on the various figures that wandered through the night, but instead tilted up to the stars. Alvina took in the sky herself.

  Thin glitters of white cut erratically through the night. It was the season for falling stars of course, and maybe if she was in any sort of mind she would have relished the sight more affectionately, like she had in the years before. They were beautiful. They were always beautiful, year after year, when the Holy Sorceress’s tears for all living things fell upon the land. As legend went they were tears for the multitude of sins committed. Fitting, she mused, believing that there would be a good few additions by the time this affair was through.

  ‘I’m coming with you to this thing,’ she stated. ‘You need back-up and going in alone will do no good for anyone.’

  ‘You’re staying here. Nobody shadows. There’s no use the lot of us getting …’ Jack trailed off, his eyes moving from structure to sky, until he gazed at the flashes overhead.

  ‘You’re a fool,’ Alvina rebutted. ‘Doesn’t the great Jackdaw accept help from his own?’

  Jack snorted smoke through his nostrils. ‘This isn’t about helping. This is about staying alive. Everyone staying alive.’

  Alvina knew the folly of objecting, especially in this instance. ‘What are you doing up here?’ she asked instead.

  ‘Nothing in particular.’

  ‘Nothing isn’t going to get you any sleep. That’s something you sorely need if you’re going to make this appointment of yours. Can’t have you arguing your case dead on your feet now, can we?’