Chapter 9
Con's Warehouse
Seven Dials, London
Warrick allowed Colwyn to precede him into Con's warehouse after two tall, broad-shouldered Horsemen guards opened the door at their first bang of the knocker.
Anyone but Archer Colwyn would have had second thoughts about entering the lair in the company of the dangerous lot whose scowls were the only sign of welcome.
He knew Colwyn had visited the Horsemen's headquarters before, but realized he hadn't been there since Con's new wife Marianne had put her stamp on the fortress of a warehouse.
The detective's gaze swept from the freshly wall-papered walls to the heavy, floral-patterned draperies covering the floor-to ceiling windows of the hallway leading to Con's infamous war room. "Ah," was his only comment. "There's a woman here now, isn't there?"
Warrick flinched, hating to admit a Horseman weakness to one of the most dangerous, calculating Runners they'd ever encountered.
"It's all right," Colwyn added softly. "The woman I finally allowed into my life changed me as well...it happens to the best of us."
Warrick motioned to Colwyn to follow the guards to a padlocked trunk in a corner of the hallway. At the questioning look from his old nemesis, Warrick apologized. It's a new rule from Marianne. No weapons in her parlor, er war room."
After throwing him a dark look, Colwyn broke out into a hearty burst of laughter and proceeded to divest himself of a plethora of instruments of destruction.
By the time he'd emptied his pockets, a chest holster and the insides of his boots, there was a considerable pile of hardware, including two pistols, two deadly-looking daggers, and one wickedly long knife.
Although having seen the man in action, he knew Colwyn was dangerous without all the hardware he'd thrown into the trunk. He was a weapon himself. Warrick stifled a private chuckle at that thought. That part of the man no one could stuff in a storage trunk.
When it was his turn, he gently placed his gleaming boarding axe atop a growing pile of pistols.
"Are you fellows going to be able to get the trunk lid closed over all those weapons?
" Colwyn softened his harsh question with a quirk of a smile.
The two guards went about pushing the lid down without so much as a flicker in their expressions.
"Guess they don't have much of a sense of humor, eh? " Colwyn said, in a whispered aside.
"No, and you wouldn't either if you'd brought order out of as much mayhem as they have, in this very fortress." He nodded toward the two men, who headed down the rear staircase to the servant quarters where they'd stay until and unless summoned by the fortress bell system.
"They didn't put their weapons in there, did they?"
Warrick threw Colwyn a withering stare. "Of course not. But then, they're not going to venture into Marianne's parlor either."
Once they tapped at the infamous parlor, formerly war room, door, a soft voice from within said, "Come."
As soon as they'd entered the room, he stole a sly glance at his companion. Colwyn stared wordlessly at the diminutive, curvaceous, raven-haired spitfire who now ruled large patches of his brother Con's life.
"Marianne, may I introduce you to a highly valued friend of the Horsemen?
" He turned toward his companion. "This is private detective Archer Colwyn, still an occasional agent of the Bow Street Runners.
" After a deep breath, he continued. "And, this, Mr. Colwyn, is the recently wed Mrs. Connor Dyer. "
Colwyn moved forward and bowed low over her hand. "An extreme pleasure to finally meet the woman who tamed one of the Horsemen." He gazed up into her dark eyes. "What is your secret?"
"My secret?" Marianne made a face. "I have no secrets."
An ill-concealed snort escaped from Warrick.
She gave him a long look. "Except perhaps that I am a master of the Black Art, which the Horsemen have learned the hard way."
Colwyn gave her a broad smile and then broke out into uncontrolled laughter.
"Con married a master thief." He laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes, and he slapped his thighs.
After he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes, he added, "You must come meet my betrothed, Charlotte. "
"Why would she want to mingle with a criminal family like ours?"
"She's the chess master at Goodrum's, and I'm sure the two of you would be well suited in a match. God knows, I bore her to tears at the chess board. She's had no luck teaching me."
At that moment, Con walked in, his shirtsleeves rolled up above his elbows and his hair askew. He ignored any pleasantries, but instead gave Marianne a heated look before pointing at Warrick and Colwyn. "You two...with me."
"Where's Fam?" Warrick didn't see his fiercest brother out in the hallway behind Con.
"He's still downstairs working them over."
And with that, Con headed back out of the heavily decorated parlor/former war room. They followed him toward the back stairway down toward the Horsemen's personal dungeon.
September 10, 1827
Warrick's Warehouse
Wapping Street, London
After Beatrice asked Anneke to help Missus Kamish get the younger boys ready for bed so they'd be rested and ready to meet their new families the following day, she called Ban back into Warrick's office. Once the door closed behind him, she nearly lost her nerve.
The intense gaze of Warrick's younger, dark-haired brother was unnerving, but she steeled herself for what had to be said. "I'm sorry to seem like I'm poking my head in where I have no business, but there's something I have to say."
A slow smile broke out on Ban's face. "There's nothing you can say that will change my opinion of you.
You're a strong woman, Beatrice Rowe, and you're wicked smart.
Most importantly, I think you care for my stubborn brother, which has to be a way more difficult job than running one of the largest shipping concerns on the Thames. "
Beatrice grinned in spite of a severe case of nerves. "He is a difficult man."
"Ye'll get no argument here."
"I need your help," she began simply. "These boys have seen so much and have been used so badly by adults, that they've become experts at hiding their feelings."
When he stiffened at her words, she hurried on with her difficult speech.
"I also have a small inkling of what you and your brothers must have suffered at the hands of similar monsters over the course of your lives.
" She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts.
"What I'm trying to say is I hope you can hear what they have to say without showing the anger that is rightfully yours. "
"What are you trying to say, Missus Rowe?"
"These boys are conditioned to be terrified when an adult shows anger. They naturally assume your rage is going to be directed at them."
"Why would they think that?" A flash of hurt crossed his face.
"Because that's all they've ever known from adults."
He was silent for long moments and then finally admitted, "I should have realized they're no different than we were at their ages. We stayed alive because we could read what was going on in the hearts and minds of our adult gaolers and torturers. I apologize."
"For what?" It was Beatrice's turn to be puzzled.
"For forgetting what it was like inside these boys' heads when we were as young and helpless as they are."
"Then let's bring in the boys who were part of the baby farm raids. I'm sure they have important information we can use to bring more proof before the River Police magistrate and clear the Horsemen's names."
Warrick pulled Fam back and marched him to a far corner, away from the men he'd been questioning.
His brother's knuckles and hands were bruised and stained red from the prisoners' blood.
He'd been "interrogating" the sweeps' handlers whom Warrick, Beatrice, and his crew had surprised and captured mid-theft the night before on the quay in Limehouse.
"What have you found out?"
Fam gave out a shaky sigh. "I honestly don't think they know anything. Believe me, if they did, they'd have given it up by now."
War pressed his brother for more. "Surely they know something."
"All they'll say is they get paid when they pick up messages left at The Angel. They never meet in person with the people above them."
Fam's partner Ethan interrupted them. He suddenly walked to their side and said, "Enough, he's done enough."
Warrick put an arm around his brother and squeezed tightly before turning him over to Ethan, who'd been waiting patiently to take him away from the carnage of Con's dungeon.
A carriage waited outside the mews behind Con's warehouse to carry the two men back to their home on Brick Lane in White Chapel.
His oldest brother, Con, wasn't in much better shape, but he wasn't cursed with the same blind, single-mindedness of Fam when it came to punishing the torturers of children.
Of course, Con carried every bit as much hatred for such animal-like humans, but he always seemed to manage much better to keep his wits under control whilst meting out punishment.
After Ethan had led Fam away to their carriage, Con turned to Warrick with a savage look on his face. "Why are you here tonight? Didn't I send word that we'd let you know what we found out tomorrow morning?" Con gave out a huff, his face a study of half disgust, half resignation.
"Did you actually think I'd stay away?"
"No, but now that you're here, what possible use could you be to us?"
"It's not about you or me...it's about him." Warrick poked a thumb back to Colwyn who brought up the rear. "He's called a command meeting."
"Who's in trouble now?"
"All of us."
Colwyn corrected him. "You brothers are always on my 'trouble' list, but tonight, it's mostly you, Warrick."
"What--?" His mouth flew open.
"You and the Widow Rowe are on a list of persons of interest being sought by Bow Street, on orders from the magistrate."
An instinctive pulling back of Warrick's fist had Con grabbing his arms and pulling them behind him with the help of his right-hand man, Gordy.
"Tell us everything you know about this, Colwyn.
..now." The sound of Con's voice, combined with the grunting and cursing from Warrick, would have a lesser man trembling in the presence of the Horsemen.
The detective stood his ground, a look of regret on his face.
"Someone is trying to make it look like you all are nothing more than dangerous criminals who have to be brought to ground.
" He took a deep breath, and the look on his face caused Warrick to quiet.
Con stepped back. "You and Missus Rowe have to disappear.
..tonight. If they find you and take you before the magistrate, I won't be able to help. You're on your own."
"But she can't leave her son. That bastard of a brother-in-law of hers will steal him away and take control of Rowe Shipping.
" Warrick stared Colwyn down, daring him to say otherwise.
After a few seconds, the reality of what he'd said hit him hard.
"We can't take him with us either. That would make things come down on her ten times worse. "
"Use your head, man. Who has the most to gain by destroying both you and the widow?" Colwyn tilted his head in anticipation and waited for the brothers to come the logical conclusion.
"Silas Rowe," Con intoned. "However, there is something about this attempt to discredit us that seems way more organized and extensive than Rowe would be able to pull off."
"What are you getting at?" Colwyn cocked his head toward the brothers.
"This attack on the Horsemen is far beyond Rowe's capabilities, or resources. He has help in high places." Con shook his head slowly.
"Who has the most reason to discredit you lot?" Colwyn put his hands behind his head and stretched out his back.
Warrick laughed aloud. "Who doesn't want to destroy us?"
At that moment, Marianne stormed down the steps to the dungeon, and stood, hands on hips, staring them down. "Do you ruffians have any idea what time it is?" And then she stomped back up the way she'd come down.
Con apologized to the others with a sheepish look. "She doesn't mean it. She's increasing and mad as a broody hen."
On the stairs above them, Marianne shouted back over her shoulder, "I heard that, Connor Dyer."
Warrick's mouth dropped open again, and Colwyn laughed. "Congratulations, Connor. I think it's time we all sought our beds. And you, Warrick, need to make yourself and the Widow Rowe disappear.
They followed the angry Marianne back up the stairs and retrieved their weapons. Just before he ventured out into the night with Colwyn, Con pressed a small object into Warrick's palm. "You'll know what to do with this," his brother said, and disappeared back toward his bedchamber.