Why did you have to kill them?
Tony spoke slowly. “They swore allegiance to the Spadros Family, Jacqui. I stood outside the kitchen window on a public street and heard them. To speak against us in public is betrayal.”
And betraying the Family meant death. I nodded, overwhelmed by grief. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Jacqui —”
“I’m going to my rooms now.”
Poignee spoke whatever words came into her head, usually biting ones. Treysa and Ottilie went along with anything Poignee said, especially Ottilie, who was younger.
They never understood the danger.
* * *
I ate dinner in my room, with little appetite. And I couldn’t sleep. If the men attacked Madame Biltcliffe, who else was next?
Vig Vikenti helped me numerous times, the most recent being the night I found Marja dead outside his saloon. If something happened to him because of me, I could never forgive myself.
When Tony slept, I put on my robe and went to the door.
Blitz Spadros patrolled the hall, and I waited for the glow of his candle to approach. Besides being our footman, Blitz played piano at Vig’s saloon. “Mrs. Spadros, how may I help you?”
“I’m sure you know what’s befallen Madame Biltcliffe —”
Blitz shook his head.
“She’s been beaten for helping me, and I find myself fearful. Is Vig Vikenti well?”
Blitz glanced away, let out a breath. “Vig was supposed to report his dealings with you to Mr. Roy, but he didn’t.”
Fear struck me. “What happened? Is he —”
“Dead? No. They broke his nose, destroyed his saloon, but he’s alive.” Blitz rubbed the back of his neck. “Angry. But he knew the consequences for breaking the rule.”
“What rule?”
“You live in Spadros, you report to Mr. Roy. It’s the only rule, besides paying fees. Didn’t you know?”
Was everyone in Spadros reporting my whereabouts to Roy?
Three of Tony’s men were there that night. Sawbuck was Molly’s nephew and should be safe enough. It seemed Morton got out of Spadros Manor just in time. “What’ll happen to you?”
“Me? I don’t know.” He grinned, and when he did, he reminded me of Tony. “You can’t care about such things when you align yourself against a man like him.”
My loyalty is to the Spadros Family.
To the Spadros Family. Not Roy.
“Why did you do that?”
He glanced away. “Spadros quadrant deserves better. Bridges has a brutal, bloody past, but we also have a good and noble one.”
“A secret Royalist, then?”
Blitz snorted. “You don’t need a king to live in peace. People want someone to lead them. But they want to take pride in their leader and be motivated by goodwill, not fear.”
What happened to Vig would make him hate the Spadros Family even more than he already did. “Is there a way to help?”
“Vig? Best way to help is to stay away for a bit. I’ll let him know you asked.”
The way Blitz smiled just then ... Vig’s misery when he thought I was using him ...
I sighed. Vig found me attractive, even desirable: many men did. But since the night he rescued me, I feared this might happen. “Tell him I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt him. Tell him ... I remain his true and grateful friend. Say it just like that.”
Blitz nodded. “I will.” He bowed. “Good night, Mrs. Spadros.”
* * *
I closed the door, leaned against it. Tony lay asleep.
They broke Vig’s nose? Destroyed his saloon?
I stalked to the bed, threw the covers off Tony. “You promised my friends wouldn’t be hurt!”
Tony turned towards me. “What? Jacqui, what’s wrong?”
“You promised none of my friends would be hurt if I told you about my business. You lied!”
Tony held up his hand. “Jacqui, wait — what happened?”
“Madame had bruises all over her arms. Your men beat her!”
Tony shook his head. “I never told them to do that. Blitz!”
Blitz entered, stood before us. “Yes, sir?”
“Who’s responsible for hurting her friend?”
Blitz glanced away. “Your father’s men. I told them not to do it, but they beat the man within a —”
Tony said, “Man? What man?”
I brought my hands to my mouth, horrified. I never told Tony about Vig. What was Blitz doing?
Blitz looked between me and Tony. “Were you not speaking of —” He frowned. “Who did you mean?”
Tony grabbed Blitz by the collar. “What man?”
Blitz glanced at me, afraid, then back at Tony. “The saloon owner Vig Vikenti. Wasn’t that who you meant?”
I put my hand on Tony’s arm. “One of my contacts, Tony. A friend, nothing more. Vig saved my life more than once.”
Tony let his arms drop to his sides. “My wife was in a — a saloon — and you never told me?”
“No, sir.”
“Tony,” I said, “it was the —”
Tony punched Blitz in the face, knocking him to the floor. “What the hell do I have you guarding my wife for?”
I grabbed his arm. “Tony, stop! It was when Marja was shot.”
Tony turned to me. “Why were you there? How long have you known this man?”
I shrugged. “Since I was sixteen. Tony, I asked Blitz and Ten not to say anything. You were so upset all the time, and —”
Tony growled, flinging my hand off his arm. “Everything you do makes my problems worse.” He confronted Blitz, who still lay on the floor. “How long have you known about this?”
Blitz sat up, giving Tony a wary look. Blood lay on his lip. “It was the night you were out late. In February.”
I glanced at Tony. Some message had passed between them. “As I said, it was the night my friend Marja was shot. Ten and Master Rainbow were there too. They followed me.”
“Who saw you there? What else haven’t you told me?”
I sat, telling the story: disguising myself, arriving at Vig’s saloon, talking with his mother. I said, “Blitz, is his mother well?”
Blitz shook his head. “She’s dead, mum. The doctor said it was her heart. The strain of all those men destroying her home —”
I leapt to my feet. “Gods damn you to Hell! This is what Vig gets for helping me? Get out, both of you.”
Tony pulled Blitz to his feet then turned to me. “Jacqui, we didn’t hurt your friends.”
“You promised my friends wouldn’t be harmed. Nonetheless, two are beaten, and another is dead. So you have no power to promise anything.”
Tony didn’t meet my eye.
“Get out,” I told Tony. “I don’t want to see you.”
After Tony and Blitz left, I locked the doors, then got my cigarettes, a glass, and a bottle of bourbon, then sat in bed.
Vig’s mother helped me since I was sixteen.
How could she be dead?
The Game
The next morning, I felt weary and my head hurt. To my surprise, a letter came from “Eunice Ogier,” but was actually from Thrace Pike about “the information you requested.” The letter was addressed from a residence on Market Center. His home?
At breakfast, Tony’s knuckles were torn and bruised, yet unwashed, unbandaged.
If he wanted his hand to fester, that was not my concern.
The whole house must have heard the argument, but no one said anything. At breakfast, Tony said, “Jacqui, I had nothing to do with your friend being hurt. But you said two of your friends were beaten. Who was the other?”
He truly didn’t know? “Madame Biltcliffe.”
“I gave orders for her to be left alone! I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” He left his breakfast half-eaten and stormed out.
So I ran morning meeting alone, then wrote to Mr. Pike with a time and place to meet.
When I called Pearson in to give
him the letter, he said, “I’ve learned more about the facility you were interested in.”
I gestured to the armchair across my desk. “Please sit.”
He glanced at it. “I’d prefer to stand, mum.”
He’d never sat in my presence since I’d known him. “Very well. What have you learned?”
“The facility’s managed by a man named Shigo Rei. It employs 78 workers in three shifts, mostly menial laborers.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing unusual about it.”
“Are all produce distribution centers owned by the Clubbs?”
“The ones they deliver to. This one handles grain.”
What an excellent way to learn about a quadrant! The Clubbs were sly indeed. “Thank you, Pearson, that’ll be all.”
I wrote to my contacts asking them to learn more about this Shigo Rei. A strange name, but Josie did say he changed it to hide the fact he was a Kerr.
That he changed his name didn’t surprise me. After the Coup, the traitor Xavier Alcatraz hunted down the Kerrs, placing their heads upon spikes at Market Center. What fierce hatred he must have had for them! How did any of Joe’s family survive?
* * *
During luncheon, Tony said, “The men assigned to Madame Biltcliffe’s street deny hurting her.”
“She said they were new men, wearing Spadros livery.”
Tony frowned. “Spadros livery?”
I nodded. “They told her she had to pay double or they’d beat her again.”
Tony gestured to Pearson. “You hear that?”
Pearson nodded.
“Make sure it’s taken care of.”
I felt confused. “Make sure what’s taken care of?”
“Jacqui, our men only wear livery on specific occasions. Someone’s impersonating us.”
It dawned on me. “The black cloth!”
Tony stared at me down the length of the table, mouth open. Then he put his hand to his forehead. “First they steal our money, then they threaten and beat our merchants, then they ruin our name.” He dropped his hand to the table. “What do they want from us?”
* * *
After luncheon, we went to Spadros Castle.
Spadros Castle wasn’t one, any more than Spadros Manor was a manor. But that never stopped Roy from building it. A fortress, rather than a home with any artistic appeal.
I shivered as I entered. Although the damp chill of the dim entryway might have caused my reaction, I doubt it.
The servants, ancient and bowed, never spoke as they ushered us down pale gray halls. The parlor windows let in the gray light of a cloudy afternoon. Although Roy built Spadros Castle five years ago, it felt old, from the furniture to the decor.
This cold room matched Roy Spadros so well. Did Molly roam these pale halls with her silent servants?
Tony and I stood before the unlit fireplace. A portrait of Tony’s little sister Katherine hung above it, three feet wide and four feet high.
“Astonishing,” I said. “I didn’t know photographs were ever made this big.”
“It’s not photography,” a woman’s voice said.
Molly Hogan Spadros, a beautiful raven-haired woman of nine and forty, gave me a warm smile when she caught my eye. “Hello, Jacqui.” She clasped my hand, her long red sleeves brushing against my fingers. “So wonderful to see you.”
She kissed Tony on the cheek then pointed at the picture. “Roy drew that from memory.”
Katherine’s picture hanging there was beyond dispute; the pencil-marks showed plainly. This man had vast talent: why had he squandered it in violence?
Roy entered the room, thirteen year old Katherine Spadros bounding in behind him. “Jacqui!” She hugged me around my waist, her auburn curls atop my corset. “I’m so happy to see you!”
I wrapped my arms round her, kissed her hair. “And I you.”
“Hi, Tony!” She hugged him. “Can we play croquet? Please?”
Tony smiled. “Ask Mama, not me.”
“Perhaps after we finish here,” Molly said.
“Aww.”
Molly frowned. “If you behave, Katie, and do as you’re told.”
Roy Spadros stood motionless, blue-ice eyes staring out from a pale, expressionless face. He wore a wool jacket and pants the color of midnight in winter, and a white vest with a texture which reminded me of fallen snow.
I expected rage at my defying his orders, guilt or evasiveness about having his men attack my friend.
But all he said was, “We’ll go to the garden.”
Katie skipped up to her father, chattering away.
Molly took Tony’s left arm, I his right, and we strolled after them. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Jacqui,” Molly said. “We’ve worried for you.”
I hadn’t been ill; I simply had nothing to say. So far, speaking hadn't made things better.
Their veranda was the same as our own, down to the shade of pale gray. In place of gardens, sheep grazed an expanse of lawn; an ancient man leaning on a cane herded them away from a target range as we approached. Roy’s men stood watching for intruders.
We strolled along the grassy field. To our right, a white wrought-iron table and six matching chairs sat under a lawn umbrella, a croquet set neatly stacked on the ground beside it. We sat around the table.
Roy glanced at Tony’s bruised hand. “Brawling, I take it?”
Tony frowned. “Where’s the letter?”
Roy didn’t smile often, but he did then. “To the point. I approve.” He gestured to a maid; she handed him an envelope, which he put in his pocket. “Let’s have tea. Converse. We are family, after all.”
Katherine said, “Daddy, I don’t want tea. Can I go play?”
“Certainly,” Roy said.
She ran across the field, arms spread wide, and headed for the sheep, scattering them. A maid brought a tea-tray, set it before us, then began to pour.
“What do you want from us?” Tony said. “You have us here. What game are you playing now?”
“It’s been a while since I played a game,” Roy said. “An excellent idea.” He sipped his tea. “If you want the letter, you two can play. Whoever wins may not show it to the other one.”
Molly looked confused.
I frowned. “What sort of nonsense is that?”
Tony shook his head, chuckling. “Let him have his fun.”
Roy looked at Tony sideways. “Well, then. You can go first.” He pointed towards the target range. A new paper had been laid upon the target. “Shoot six rounds.”
Tony glanced at me, his face pale. He didn’t like to shoot. He wasn’t good at it. He never practiced. He hated loud noises. And I think he just realized what I told him earlier: I could shoot too.
All of Roy’s men stood watching.
Roy planned to humiliate Tony in front of his men.
I smiled at Tony. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Tony stood with trembling hands and took out his revolver. “Very well.” He walked the twenty yards to the range, lifted the gun, pulled back the hammer, and I could see how nervous he was by his stance. He fired and missed.
Roy stood up, faced him. “Again!”
Tony took a deep breath, fired, and missed.
“You’re heir to the Spadros Family!” Roy took a step towards Tony. “Again!”
Tony fired, hands shaking, and missed.
Roy stalked over to Tony and bellowed, “Again!”
Tony fired, and it wasn’t even close.
“What're you going to do when I’m not here to protect you?”
I rose. “Stop it!”
Roy said something in a language I didn’t understand.
Tony’s face went white: he fired and missed even worse.
I ran to Roy. “What’s wrong with you? Do you want your men to hate him?”
Roy yelled, “Again!”
Tony fired, and it clipped the side of the target. “There,” Tony said, voice trembling. He threw his gun on the grass. “Satisfied?”
> I grabbed Roy’s arm. “Leave him alone.”
Clicks from all directions. Every gun that every one of Roy’s men held now pointed at me.
I put my hands up, backed away. Tony rushed to my side.
Roy waved to the men; they returned to whatever they were supposed to be watching. “Temper, my dear ... you always did let your emotions run away with you.”
“You had your fun,” Tony said, his voice shaking. “Give us the letter and let us go.”
“But Jacqui gets to play, too,” Roy said. “It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”
Tony turned to me, whispering, “You don’t have to do this. We can get the information some other way.”
“I don’t see how.” I let out a breath. “I don’t think he means to hurt us.”
Tony held both my hands, closed his eyes for a moment. “Just do your best.”
“How touching,” Roy said.
The chairs had been moved to the side and an open box of ammunition lay on the table. Roy took his revolver from his belt and handed it to me. “You asked about shooting a moving target.”
Tony glanced at him in disbelief.
Why would Roy hand me his weapon after what just happened? “What?”
I ducked away as Roy’s hand lashed out. “Go!”
I ran, only a second later grasping what he meant over Tony’s outraged shouts. I angled towards the target, raised Roy’s heavy revolver in both hands, and fired. I didn’t do as well as I hoped, but in all my years of practice, I have never missed a target.
Roy’s men held Tony, who struggled, shouting at us both. Roy walked to the croquet set, picked up a ball, and threw it at me. “Run!”
The ball narrowly missed my leg, pulling at my dress as it passed. I fired again, doing better.
“Now back towards me!” Roy reached down for another ball.
I had to watch him, watch the target, watch for Tony, who flailed mightily, and avoid tripping on my dress.
“Shoot!”
The ball glanced off my corset, knocking the air from me; I hit the paper’s edge. Tony screamed at Roy, but I barely heard him.
“Shoot, damn you!”
I shot, with better aim this time.
“Back up!”
Back and forth, at angles, reloading as I ran, grabbing ammunition from the table as I dodged his blows. After the heavy croquet balls were gone Roy threw mallets, hoops, and might have thrown the chairs if I displeased him. But he nodded: the session was over.
The Ace of Clubs Page 10