Chapter 8 #2
"For fuck's sake, Con." Fam dropped the letter opener on his desk and leaned forward to prop his elbows on the polished mahogany surface.
"We don't have time for these games. We're not children anymore.
Not even Ban. He knows you're working for this Fitz-Wilton woman, Ban.
Was that why you were poking around in that house?
Because whoever hired those two corpses now resting in a bottomless well on Hampstead Heath went to a great deal of trouble not to hire London boys.
They weren't Limehouse brawlers. Bethnal Green assassins do not come cheap, and they don't work for just anyone. "
"I met Missus Fitz-Wilton when I was pulling those two children out of her home on Grosvenor Street.
She decided to hire me instead of screaming for the Watch because she has need of a thief to search some houses for something that has been taken from her by her brother-in-law.
" Ban kept his tone even and matter-of-fact.
Only a fool allowed Con Dyer even a hint of his real feelings.
Con narrowed his eyes and gazed at Ban intently.
"Isadore Fitz-Wilton?" Ethan asked, not even bothering to put down his book. "Her late husband owned the Stringfellow Bank."
"According to Charpentier she owns the bank," Ban offered.
"Her brother-in-law is trying to force her to marry so that the bank will fall into the new husband's control.
That's why she's hired me to find...what he took from her.
She has information that this leverage is hidden in one of the houses the brother-in-law has in London.
" He hoped he was not giving too much away.
Judging by his brothers' expressions they already knew some of this. Damn them.
"Who is the lucky gent destined to gain control of the widow and her bank?" Warrick asked.
"According to Dickie, some nob who prefers men in his bed. No threat to Isadore even if she does marry him." Ban gave Con a pointed scowl.
"What's the nob's name?" Fam asked.
"Horace Sutton, some toady who owes her brother-in-law a favor."
"Horace Sutton?" Ethan's book hit the floor with a thud. He sat up in his chair his hands now wrapped around the upholstered chair arms with a white-knuckled grip.
"Ethan?" Fam's voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle.
"What did Missus Fitz-Wilton's brother-in-law take from her?" Ethan leaned forward intently.
The room grew deathly quiet. Ban and his brothers considered Ethan family. He made Fam happy, and Fam accepted his love as he had no one else's before. Ethan, however, seldom involved himself in the brothers' criminal activities.
"I don't know that the 'what' is all that important," Con said at last. "I'm more interested in why you're taking on such a task, Ban. Especially when finding out who is using those children as thieves to invade your territory is more--"
"What did he take, dammit?" Ethan demanded. A chill went through Ban. No one dared gainsay Con. No one.
"Her son. Her fourteen-year-old son has been missing for nearly a year. If she marries Sutton, George Fitz-Wilton will allow her to take custody of her son."
Ethan's face turned ashen. "You have to find him, Ban.
Horace Sutton does not prefer men in his bed.
He is a monster, a monster with an appetite for young boys.
He...used a friend of mine, a stableboy, and then he murdered him.
I was sixteen at the time. Sutton has powerful friends.
If Missus Fitz-Hutton marries him, she'll never see her son again.
" Fam had risen to go to Ethan. He sat on the arm of his lover's chair with his hand resting on the young lord's back.
"Christ," Con muttered and ran a hand over his face. "What the hell kind of mess have you landed us in, Ban? Don't we have enough to deal with trying to find out who's framing us for the stolen children?"
"I haven't landed us in anything. This is my mess. Isadore asked for my help. You three work on the missing and murdered children. I'll take care of this." He rose from his chair and made for the door.
"Isadore?" Warrick asked. "Isadore asked for his help."
"Fuck you, War."
"Wait, Ban, you forgot something," Fam called.
Ban turned as he opened the door. "What?"
Fam went to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a knife. "You left this in one of the thugs at King Street." He tossed the knife, handle end first. Ban caught it and shoved it into his boot.
"Shot in the shoulder. Left a weapon behind. He wasn't distracted at all, was he boys?" Con laughed and the others joined him. "I cannot wait to tell Marianne about this."
At the mention of Con's wife Ban launched into a litany of vulgar language that ended at the bottom of the stairs with a threat to murder Dickie Jones as he left the Brick Lane building and climbed onto his horse that was being walked by one of Fam's men.
He headed toward The Angel tavern and pondered how he was going to tell Isadore what fate likely awaited her son if they didn't find him.