Chapter 29 The Sting #5
to get out of this without adding murder to the tally.”
She glances worriedly at the window. Alice—and her gun—are no longer in view.
“Listen,” she says, drawing Cal closer. “I’ve got an idea.”
Alice trains the gun, along with her gaze, on Ogden’s face.
This is her mistake. The look in his eyes strikes her like a thunderbolt—the rage, the disdain, the primitive drive to rage and attack and claim—just like it had in the carriage that day.
That day she nearly shot him. And he very nearly . . .
Her thumb trembles against the heavy hammer, unable to cock it quickly enough. As the gun slides against her damp palm, her
breath coming fast with terror, Ogden crosses the room in two feline strides and snatches the weapon from her hand.
“I’ll talk to you however you like, you whore,” he sneers. “I’m going to hand you over to the police, and they’ll have their
fun with you too, no doubt, you and your little criminal friends, but before I do that, I’m going to take from you what you
have dangled in front of me for months. What I deserve.”
He trains the gun on her lazily. Taking his time.
She raises her hands. Inches toward the exit.
“I don’t think so. Get back where you were.” He sniffs, his eyes cold. Utterly empty. “Take off your dress.”
She makes no movement at all.
His face reddens in rage. “Or would you rather I rip it off you?”
He lurches forward when—
“You faithless little strumpet!” A new voice resounds from the vestibule.
The door is flung wide.
It’s Cal, holding roughly on to . . . Cora?
Alice’s heart leaps, but only for a moment. What is the damned fool doing, barging in here, putting more lives at risk?
Cal shoves Cora forward onto the floor. Cora sniffles and whimpers, trying pathetically to rise in her voluminous skirts.
Ogden, momentarily stunned, backs away from Alice.
“I don’t know what these women have told you,” Cal shouts, his face bright red with anger that Alice can sense is very, very real.
“But they’re nothing but two-bit frauds.
This one had me out of thousands with some cockamamie story about a pearl farm.
I managed to trail her here, but I’ll need some help restraining her until the police arrive. This one too, I suppose.”
Cal nods disdainfully in Alice’s direction. “Is there anything in here we can use to tie them up?”
Alice steps toward Cal. Cal turns and spits on the embassy rug, inches from her slipper.
Nice, if revolting, touch, Alice concedes, her breath still coming fast and short.
Alice glances at the Württemberg flag upon the wall, with its many yards of gilded fringe pooled decoratively beneath it.
Then she stares back at Ogden, expression drawn, as if caught.
His eyes narrow in triumph. “Over there. Use the flag.”
As Cal goes to the wall to rip loose the flag, Ogden pockets the gun, content for the moment to have an ally on hand.
And now what? Alice wonders. Cal’s managed to pause Ogden’s attack momentarily, but he still has the weapon, and he’s still eyeing the
length of her body as if mentally preparing ever worse punishments for her. Her brother can’t hope to wrestle the gun out
from Ogden’s pocket without a shot being fired—
And then she sees Cora, still on the ground—on her knees now, crawling closer and closer to Ogden. Her face is upturned, flushing
seductively.
She always told Cora to keep her distance from Ogden. Her protégée has chosen the perfect moment to ignore that advice.
“Please, Mr. Ogden, don’t turn me in,” Cora coos breathily. “I’ll do anything. I’ll help you get your money back, I swear it. I’ll do . . . anything you ask.”
Now she has Ogden’s full attention. Her hand creeps upward, lightly grazing the waistband of his trousers, her eyes wide and
unblinking, lips parted.
“I know you will,” Ogden whispers, leering down at her. “Because I’m the one with the—”
He reaches for his pocket. His eyes widen.
Cora rocks back onto her heels.
“With the what?” She smirks. “Don’t suppose you’re looking for this?”
She rises from the ground and points the derringer pistol she’s just pilfered right at him.
“I . . . How?” Ogden sputters.
Cora shrugs. “A bit of misdirection. The simplest of all magic tricks. Must say, you’re extremely easily distracted.”
Alice’s pulse lurches back to life.
“Down on your knees,” she orders. Ogden ignores her.
Cora cocks the gun.
Ogden obliges, hands raised.
He turns to Cal in appeal. “St-stop them! Do something, man!”
“I am doing something.” Cal smiles coldly. “Apprehending a loathsome criminal. Hands behind your back now.”
It only takes a matter of minutes for Cal to bind Ogden’s arms and legs and tie him to a sturdy plumbing pole in the corner
of the embassy toilet.
“You vermin! You low-class swine,” Ogden seethes. “You’ll hang for what you’ve done unless I get to you first. I will rip—”
They use the rest of the flag as a gag, tied fast round his head.
“Don’t worry, we’re not complete monsters,” Alice calls back from the doorway, using her own flat American accent at long
last. “We’ll send a message to your wife on our way out of town. We’ll let dear Priscilla know exactly where you are and every
little detail of what’s happened to you. And to your money. It’ll be up to her to decide whether to come collect you or not.
Seems just, no?”
They leave him moaning mutedly in the water closet as they hurry at last out the embassy door.
Before they step into the carriage, Cora murmurs, “Alice? Are you—”
Without a moment of hesitation, Alice turns to her friend and embraces her tightly, gratefully. Cora laughs, surprised.
“I’m absolutely golden, thanks to you. You were brilliant, Cora. Are brilliant.”
“How do you know it wasn’t my plan?” Cal puts in.
Alice and Cora look at each other and burst out laughing.
“It’s not that ludicrous a suggestion,” he protests, holding the carriage door open for them.
“You truly are a fool,” Cora teases as she accepts his hand up.
“Only for you, darling,” he answers.
She swats him at that—and then, so fleetingly Alice almost misses it, leans in to press her lips to his cheek.
Not much of a kiss, but it’s enough for Cal to look positively gobsmacked.
Alice has to clear her throat to get him to help her up.
She takes a seat opposite Ward McAllister, who has a sheen of sweat beading on his forehead and a smattering of cigar ash
dusting his cravat.
“What took you so long?” Ward asks. “I’d started to think you’d skipped out on me.”
“No.” Alice smiles, peering out the isinglass window. “Not yet.”
As the carriage pulls away from the embassy, Alice feels stress beginning to melt from her entire frame like snow in a spring
thaw. She’s not clear yet. Not entirely. But she’s on her way out, rather than in, and she feels it.
“I must say,” McAllister drawls, “I’m dyin’ to see what little hidey-hole you’re takin’ us to for the divvying up of our winnings.
Don’t think I didn’t notice you talkin’ to my driver in whispers, not lettin’ me hear the address you gave those newsboys.
I don’t blame you for bein’ cagey, dear Alice. Did you think I might turn up to—what is it? A tenement house? An old shanty
by the river?—and take all the money for myself?”
“Something like that,” Alice says, still staring placidly away.
“No, eighty percent is what we agreed, and that’s fine and dandy with me,” Ward says.
Alice feels Cora stiffen beside her and feels a small pang of regret.
She should have told Cora about this last bit of the plan. Spared her the worry over her own stake that no doubt is racing
through her mind right now.
But it’s too late to correct that error. All she can do is slide her foot onto Cora’s and give it a reassuring, surreptitious
tap.
Her eyes meet Cora’s, conveying a message she hopes her young student can now decipher: Do not worry. You can trust me.
Cora stares back for a moment, pondering. Then, with a quirk of the corner of her mouth, she taps her foot against Alice’s
in reply. Message received.
The carriage stops. The driver jumps down to open the door. Alice steps out. Then Cora. Then Cal.
They have arrived, not at a seedy warehouse but at a stately four-bay townhome on 350 Fifth Avenue. The very epicenter of
New York high society.
As Ward emerges, his jocular grin sinks steadily into slack confusion. “Why, this is . . .”
“Mrs. Astor’s house.” Alice smiles from the front stoop. “Won’t you come inside?”