Lady Henterman's Wardrobe

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  With hand signals, he gave her a five count, and then pressed the release on the piton-bolt. It sprang out of the wall and flew back across the roof to Helene. She caught it and signaled all was well.

  Now if only he could get through the window without leaving any sign of tampering beyond the hole in the stone.

  The window was a simple double swing-open, latched from the inside. Easy as anything to pop open. Probably because they would have never guessed someone would be breaking in from six stories up. Verci slipped it open with a slim jimmy tool. Thank the saints for hot Maradaine summers, like the one they were having this year. The folks in these buildings wanted a window that they could get a breeze out of.

  Which was a breeze to get into.

  Verci was mostly thrilled he didn’t have to cut any glass. There was no hiding your work once you did that.

  The window led him into a wide hallway, not part of any one office. That was what he had hoped for. Several firms and partnerships had offices in this building, and the individual offices might be lined with janglewires or other traps. But the hallways and stairwells had to be free to move through, for the building staff to do their work.

  The last thing he needed was to trip the alarm of some office other than Colevar and Associates. Nothing more embarrassing than being nailed by a mark other than your target.

  The hallway had pullcords, which he assumed rang bells at the guards’ booth on the first floor. There were also what looked like earhorns built into the wall at regular intervals. Probably also echoing sound to the booth, so anyone could call for help. Another time Verci would admire the design, but right now it just meant he had to be as silent as anything.

  “Oh, sweet saints, how? How? I’ve never eaten this much!”

  That came from behind a door at the end of the hallway. The water closet. Given that Pitter was supposed to patrol this floor and the one below, that was probably him, suffering from Almer’s concoction.

  Verci did feel some small pity for the man.

  But it was also clear Pitter was realizing he was suffering from an unusual malady. There wasn’t much time before he would report himself ill, and the hole in patrol would be filled up. Verci went for the stairwell as fast as he could without making noise.

  Down one floor to the Colevar offices. The main lobby was surrounded by glass doors, with a darkened seating area inside. Verci could barely make out the individual offices in the hallway beyond.

  He went for Win’s skeleton key, trying it on the main door. It stuck a bit, but he was able to get the latch to clack open after a moment. A little too long, and a little too loud for his preference, especially with the earhorns. But the door was open, and he slipped inside. Too exposed with the glass door and the open lobby.

  Now to find Mister Chell’s office. He was the one who worked the sale offers for the burned-out properties on Holver Alley. His name wasn’t on the letter to Mendel Tyne—no one’s was—but he had to be the one who knew something about it. Whoever wanted the Alley burned, whoever was trying to buy out the properties—Heston Chell knew about it.

  Verci was of half a mind to set his office on fire.

  He went down the hallway, hoping no guard would come onto the floor while he was digging about. The office doors had nameplates—that helped—but the light was too dim to read them.

  Blast and blazes.

  Verci dug out the hand lamp from his pack. Clever little device he whipped up, that could keep the light in a tight beam. Of course, it couldn’t hold much oil, and got hot as blazes before too long. Kinks to work out.

  He clicked his sparker and lit the lamp, double-checking through the glass door to make sure no one was out there. Still clear, for the moment.

  Three office doors down, he found it. Of course it wasn’t the big office at the end of the hall. That, presumably, was for Colevar, whoever he was.

  Verci tried the door. Locked. He then tried the skeleton key. It moved a little, but it wasn’t going to cut it to get this lock.

  Back into his pack, he pulled out two lock tools and grease. That should be good enough.

  Footsteps coming down the stairwell. Verci covered up the lamp and froze. He was in the shadows, he had closed the main door—

  He hadn’t fully latched it. If he went back to throw the latch, he would be seen through those glass doors.

  The steps came closer down.

  And then, “Oh sweet saints, not again.” Running, pounding steps away.

  “Thank you, sweet saints,” Verci said, getting to work on the lock.

  Five minutes, he had it open. Far too long. He went into Chell’s office and shut the door behind him.

  Quick glance about. Window on one wall. A small one, but it had a view of Helene’s perch. She was still up there, crouched low and dark. He wouldn’t have spotted her if he hadn’t known to look.

  He opened up the lamp and gave three flashes. One flash came back from her perch.

  That was done, no more of that.

  Time to start working through Chell’s files with whatever time he had left.

  * * *

  Verci had signaled he was in the office. That let Helene breathe easy, at least a little bit. She’d rather he was already back out. It was all taking too long. He should have signaled he was in by the time she counted to two hundred. She was almost at four hundred.

  Where were Asti and Win? She had seen no sign of them. Not that she’d be able to see too much from her spot.

  She had too many things to look for. Too much damn responsibility. She’d rather just be in a place to shoot, not have to make decisions, not have to signal if there was trouble.

  Somehow those Rynax boys had the bright idea that she should be in charge of things while they were inside. A terrible idea.

  Follow the routine. Check all the points. She swung her scope over to the right.

  Pilsen and Kennith were still at their spot. Pilsen making a scene, but no trouble. And no one paying his chomie driver any mind, so they didn’t notice that Kennith was staring right at Helene’s perch. Through her scope, he was almost nothing but bright white eyes, burning into her, the rest of his dark features hidden in the night.

  They were fine.

  She swung over to the left. Julie and Almer at their table. Julie had ordered cheese and bread, and was far too enamored of eating that instead of focusing on her. That was fine, that was why Almer was with him. Almer glanced up after a moment, gave a nod. They were set, and Julien was happy with his cheese. That was about the only thing he needed to be happy some times.

  Helene envied her cousin that.

  Down on the road beneath her, she set her scope on Mila, working her part on the street, selling flowers. The girl was too clever for her own good. Good hands, good instincts.

  “Violets!” Mila yelled out. “Violets of the night, violets for the departed!”

  Violets. That was the cue word. Something was wrong.

  Helene aimed her scope back at the building. Verci was still in the office, searching around. Through the other windows on his floor, she saw no other movement. She scanned down. Fourth floor clear. Third floor clear.

  Second floor. Security guards were on the move, a real active scramble. She had no eyes on Asti or Win, but something must have spooked the guards. They were sweeping each office, going to the stairwells.

  “Blazes, blazes, blazes,” Helene muttered. Mirror out, she flashed a two-spot to the ground in front of Mila. Acknowledgment, that was all she could give her. Another flash to Kennith and Almer to be at the ready. They might have to run, they might have to help Asti or Verci. She had no idea what to do.

  She should never be put in charge of decisions like this.

  Sweep the scope back to Verci. No sign of trouble on his floor, yet. But he needed to be warned.

  She hit his window with three flash
es of her mirror. Danger. Be aware.

  Verci didn’t notice.

  “Blazes, blazes.”

  Another set of flashes. Verci still didn’t notice. He was digging through the office, eyes not on her.

  She swept her view down again. Guards were starting to sweep up to the third floor, and others were active on the fourth floor.

  And on the second floor, she saw Win in one of the windows, staring hard up at her. She signaled a flash. He returned with some hand signals that made no sense.

  Win never learned the blasted hand signals.

  “What— I . . . damn it.”

  If Win was alone in there, that meant Asti was in trouble. Or about to start some.

  Win started pointing to his right. Helene followed along to the next window.

  Asti in an office, knives drawn. In the shadows, she wouldn’t have spotted him if she hadn’t . . . blazes, she missed him before. A guard was opening the door to the room he was in. If Asti got into a fight . . . well, Asti would win, there was no doubt, but that would skunk everything.

  She swung her aim to the farthest window away from Asti and fired. Glass shattered. New bolt, cranked the crossbow, loaded. Fired again, shattering another window.

  Guards were running to those rooms.

  She swung her view to Asti. He locked eyes at her when she found him, and nodded. Then he ran toward Win.

  Back up to Verci. He was still in the office, still searching through files.

  Stupid, pretty Verci.

  No time to be subtle. Another bolt loaded, she took aim through that window.

  That got Verci’s attention. He snapped up to the window. She flashed him the danger signal. He signaled for her to shoot the line to him.

  She loaded the line bolt back into her crossbow. She struggled to overcrank it, only able to get it three cranks over. She didn’t want to waste any more time, hoping it would be enough. She hitched the line to the bolt, and looked through the scope to find her shot again.

  Office window was in her sights. But Verci wasn’t in the office anymore.

  * * *

  The place must have had some sort of silent alert trigger. Some way to let the other guards know something was wrong without making a ruckus. Asti had no idea what had triggered them—he and Win hadn’t gotten above the second floor yet—but every guard in the building was sweeping the floors. Which meant seven men total, presuming Pitter was still incapacitated.

  Asti could send all seven to their graves, but that would make a blazes of a mess. They had almost been caught, and he wouldn’t have had any other choice. Until Helene distracted them. Thank the saints for her. He grabbed Win and made for the open stairwell, then changed his mind.

  “Win, open up that office,” Asti said, pushing Win to the locked door.

  “Why this one?” Win asked, fiddling the lock open.

  “Because I need it,” Asti said. He didn’t have time to explain that since the job was skunked, their best course of action—in addition to getting the blazes out of the place—was to hide their target. If the guards thought someone was trying to break into the accounts office of the Faltor Wood and Lumber Company, all the better.

  As soon as Win had the door open, Asti went into the office. Quick as he could, he opened up a cabinet, pulled out several papers, strewing some on the floor, and shoved a few more into his coat.

  “What is that?” Win whispered when he came back out.

  “No idea,” Asti said, pulling Win down the stairs.

  “Now back to the carriage hold?”

  Asti really wished Win would hush up. “No. Service doors.”

  Service doors couldn’t open from the outside, but were easily pushed open from the inside. Send them right back out to the alley. Out and clear.

  Asti stopped short before they reached the bottom of the stairs, holding Win back. One of the guards was latching the push bar of the service door.

  “That’s a special key,” Win whispered in Asti’s ear. “I don’t know if I can—”

  Asti put a hand over Win’s mouth. He held it just long enough for Win to get the message, and then stepped away. The guard was still turning the latch. Asti slipped down the steps and moved up behind him.

  No knives. Too much mess.

  Asti jumped up—the guard was a half-foot taller than he was—and wrapped one arm around the man’s neck while covering his mouth with the other hand. The man struggled and dropped back from Asti’s weight. Asti kept his footing as he hit the ground.

  The man tried to swing a fist backward, but Asti twisted out of the way, while holding a tightening grip around the guard’s neck. He then delivered a swift kick to the man’s knee, forcing him down to the ground.

  Now able to hold his weight over the guard, he squeezed tighter while pushing his body onto the back of the man’s head. The guard thrashed some more, futilely.

  Win came over and grabbed the special key out of the guard’s hand and went to work opening the service door.

  “Go to sleep,” Asti hissed.

  The guard finally stopped thrashing, but Asti kept the hold for a few moments longer. He remembered a time in Druth Intelligence when he had been fooled by that trick, and earned a sucker punch to the tenders in return. He wasn’t about to repeat that.

  That, and the beast in his skull didn’t want him to let go. The wild animal, the broken part of his brain, howled to be let off its chain, let it kill this guard and all the rest. Asti wasn’t about to let it loose. Not over one guard, when nothing stood between him and the door. He didn’t need that. Win didn’t need that. Win needed to be taken out of this building.

  The guard slumped down and Asti dropped him. Win pushed the door open, and Asti grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out.

  “This key is really—”

  “Not now, Win,” Asti said, dragging him along as they ran down the alley.

  “We’re going to be seen—”

  “Not now, Win.”

  As they approached the mouth of the alley, a familiar carriage pulled up slowly in front. Familiar, excepted it was mocked up like it was a Mender Company cab.

  “Now look here, driver, this is not the way—” Pilsen Gin was in full performance of a drunken, disgruntled passenger. He was leaning out the window, a walking stick in hand, yelling at Kennith in the driver’s seat.

  “I know where I’m going, sir,” Kennith responded.

  “I’m sure you do, but what you do not know is where I am going, and that is what matters!” He waved the stick around frantically. Any eyes looking that way would be locked on the stick.

  “Now, Win.” Asti dove out the alley, rolling under the carriage. Win did the same, but lacking the grace that Verci would have had.

  “Now what?” Win asked as they lay under the carriage.

  “Runners,” Asti said, grabbing the handholds and footholds Kennith had built into the carriage. He pulled himself up so he was hidden from anyone who would happen to look under the carriage.

  Win had pulled himself up, but he struggled as he locked his elbows around the hold.

  “How long do we have to do this?” he grunted out.

  “A few minutes.”

  “I don’t—I’m not that strong—”

  “Have to wait until Kennith moves off this street.”

  “What’s he waiting for?”

  Asti sighed. What Kennith was most likely waiting for was Verci. Who was probably still in the building.

  Chapter 3

  VERCI COULDN’T WAIT FOR Helene to send the line. Shattered glass had gotten some attention.

  “Fifth floor! Fifth floor!” At least three guards were running up the stairs. He grabbed the files he had found—he hadn’t had any chance to look at them—and stuffed them in his bag. He extinguished the lamp and threw it in the bag as well, slipped ou
t of the office, shutting the door so it latched closed.

  Not that there was much of anywhere for him to go now. He could hear the guards in the stairwell, hands on the glass windows of the offices. They probably couldn’t see him at this angle, down the hallway, but he couldn’t count on them not coming in.

  Nowhere to go but farther in.

  He went for the large office of Mister Colevar. It was farthest away from the lobby doors, out of the line of sight. Plus there was the chance that Colevar was the type of man who had a hiding room or secret escape door. Verci had heard of rich men in top offices doing things like that. If Josie Holt did it as a fence and thief-boss in North Seleth, wouldn’t a fancy lawyer in a big office do the same?

  The master key opened the door rather easily. Thank Saint Senea for her small miracles. Verci went in and closed it behind him. He could probably wait out the guards in here, as they would hopefully discover the broken glass in Chell’s office, and move on.

  Two steps in, the floor panel gave when Verci put his weight on it. Suddenly the whole office was filled with jangling bells.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Verci couldn’t believe he’d missed something so obvious. He wasn’t on his game, not in the slightest.

  And there was no chance the guards weren’t coming now.

  Verci dashed across the room, leaped up on the desk and over to the window, tool in hand. With a quick flip of the wrist, he sprang the latch of the window and pushed it open.

  The guards were rushing down the hallway.

  He climbed out the window while rummaging through his bag for a rope and a clamp lock. It was a crude way to get out of the building, but he hardly had any other choice. Clamp latched to the windowpane, he tied the rope on and let it drop down. Not quite long enough to reach the ground, but he could make do.

  The guards were trying to get the door open, and those damnable jangle bells were still going.

  Verci scrambled over the edge and scurried down the rope. As he passed the fourth floor, his shoulders were already screaming at him. He hadn’t done anything like this in years.