Chapter Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREE
One of the Thally Rousers held her upper arm in a viselike grip; Maximilian was being frog-marched beside her, held by a second Rouser. Richard was walking ahead of them, like a wolf leading his pack. He hadn’t looked back or addressed them at all since ordering the men to grab them.
The struggle itself had been quick. Vesper had turned to Maximilian, hoping he’d had time to mutter an incantation, but it seemed this wasn’t Richard’s first time dealing with sorcerers.
One of the muscled Rousers—faster on his feet than he looked—punched Maximilian in the gut before he could react.
The sorcerer had doubled over and wheezed, and Vesper had drawn in a sharp breath.
She watched with dismay as the brooch slipped from Maximilian’s hands. Richard had picked it up, smiling.
“If he starts an incantation, gag him,” he’d said calmly, tucking the brooch into his own pocket. He’d turned to his cronies then. “Check them both, and make sure they don’t have any more gifts for us.”
The warehouse they were approaching looked derelict, as though it hadn’t been occupied in years.
Vesper tried to temper her rising fear as Richard and the two Rousers led them toward it.
Once inside, they were ushered down a short hall and into an empty room on the first floor.
Richard folded his hands as though in prayer before he looked between them.
“Now,” he murmured. “The two of you have exactly thirty seconds to tell me what you were really doing in the pub.” His dark eyes glinted. “And if I were you, I’d talk fast.”
“We didn’t come here to cause any trouble,” Vesper said quickly.
Richard cocked his head. “I’ve never seen either of you in the pub before. And he”—he nodded toward Max—“is clearly not working class.”
It was Vesper’s turn to frown. Urban distress, indeed.
“You didn’t wander into a pub owned by a gang by accident,” Richard went on. “Either you’re crooks, or you’re cops.”
Vesper swallowed hard, trying to sound confident. “We’re not with the police.”
“Funny.” Richard’s expression didn’t betray even a shred of humor. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’d be easy enough to get the truth out of them,” said the blond Rouser holding Maximilian.
Now that they were in proper light, Vesper saw that the man was younger than she’d expected, but there was a hardness in his eyes that aged him.
He kept his grip on Maximilian tight, but with his other hand, he withdrew something from his pocket, and flicked it.
Vesper saw the silver glint of a switchblade, and shivered.
“Hold on,” said Maximilian, his voice strained. “We only came to the pub because we were trying to get information on Francis Gladwell.”
Richard grimaced. “I knew it. Coppers.”
Oh, for goodness’ sake. “We are not with the police,” said Vesper firmly. “We were just trying to figure out why Francis Gladwell joined the Rousers!”
There was a long pause. The anger on Richard’s face was replaced with open confusion. “What?”
“Wasn’t he a member?” Vesper asked.
The Rouser holding on to her let out a dry laugh, and Richard shook his head.
“I don’t know where you got your information,” he said, “but Frankie was no Rouser.”
“He had dealings with you though,” Vesper pressed. “His—someone said that they saw him with the Thally Rousers. They thought he might have some sort of business with them.”
Richard scoffed. “We are a diverse enterprise.” A hint of amusement touched his expression. “There are any number of reasons he could have been seen with one of our members.”
“Would any of those reasons require significant amounts of money?” Vesper asked.
Richard hesitated. “You’ll have to speak to the boss.”
Vesper started at the same time Maximilian said: “Wait, isn’t that you?”
Richard shook his head. “I serve as first captain, but Thally’s the boss. That’s who you’ll need to speak to.”
“When?”
“Now,” said Richard. “Thally’s asked to see you, that’s why you’ve been brought here. I’m taking you up to the office.”
Vesper tensed. The Thally Rousers’ boss had asked to see them. Why?
“A few rules,” said Richard. “You don’t speak unless spoken to. You don’t sit down unless invited to do so. You insult the boss? You answer to us.”
Vesper swallowed. “Understood.”
Richard nodded, and the Rousers holding on to them turned them around and marched them out of the room and up a flight of narrow, rickety stairs.
There was only one door at the top of the landing, and only once they’d reached it were they released and shoved forward.
Vesper started for the door, but Maximilian caught her wrist.
“Let me go first,” he said firmly.
Vesper nodded. She watched as Maximilian took a deep breath, as if to gird himself, then turned the door’s handle and stepped inside. At once, the concentrated smell of cigarette smoke made her want to choke, but Vesper kept silent as she filed in behind him.
They were standing in an office. A large oak desk was positioned in the center of the room. On it sat a single white candle. Vesper’s eyes adjusted, and she noted that there was a figure sitting behind the desk, a silhouette cloaked almost entirely in shadow.
“Well, well.” A low, gravelly voice broke the heavy silence. “What have we here?”
“Mr. Thally, my name is Vesper Evans.” Her voice trembled as she began. “We’re here because we’re looking for answers about Francis Gladwell, the inventor who was recently—”
The figure suddenly leaned forward, so that the candlelight illuminated one half of their face, and threw the other half into sharp relief. Whatever words Vesper had been about to say disappeared.
“I…?”
The old woman sitting behind the desk was small, fair-skinned, and heavyset, with cottony white hair styled into an elaborate updo piled high on her head. An amused smile touched her face.
“Not what you were expecting?”
She might have been anywhere between sixty and seventy. Vesper couldn’t put her finger on it, but this woman seemed almost familiar. It took a few seconds, but then, with a start, she realized where she recognized the old woman from.
“You were at the Main Street Farmer’s Market selling baked goods.” Maximilian looked stunned. “I bought two pies and two tartlets from you!”
The old woman’s brows rose. “How were they?”
Maximilian swallowed. “Exceptional. Don’t change a thing.”
The old woman nodded with approval. “Not all of my trade is contraband, young man,” she said. “I strongly believe that all women should have at least two passion projects outside of work.” To Vesper, she added: “I also enjoy gardening, when my knees allow.”
“I don’t understand,” said Vesper. “I didn’t think…”
“That the most prolific crime syndicate in this city could be run by a little old woman?” Miss Thally’s smile dimmed just slightly. “Surprising, Miss Evans. With your background, I expected better.”
Beside her, Maximilian stiffened. Vesper stood straighter. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I do.” Miss Thally leaned back in her chair.
“I make it a point to know who works in every media outlet in this city, who’s covering my organization’s endeavors.
” She inclined her head. “I must say, you’ve written several riveting pieces about us.
You’ve quite a way with words, dear. That’s part of the reason you’re standing here. ”
Vesper wasn’t sure whether to be honored or horrified. A part of her wanted to run from the room, but her boots were rooted to the ground.
“I also make it a point to be aware of who’s in Thally Rouser territory,” Miss Thally continued.
She examined her painted red nails for a beat before looking up.
“The next time you try a little stunt like the one you attempted tonight, I suggest you avoid entering my domain in a coach worth more than most of this neighborhood’s buildings. ”
Maximilian turned pink, and Vesper felt her own face warm too. She thought of the young men she’d seen as they entered Shalescreek and shook her head. How could she have been so foolish?
“As for you, Mr. Kite.” At last Miss Thally turned her attention to the sorcerer. “I’m quite aware of who you are and who your family is too. While I do appreciate your own attempts here, your costume isn’t quite right. I suspect it’s the shoe polish.”
Maximilian looked properly affronted, but Vesper shot him a warning look.
Miss Thally offered a sweet smile so reminiscent of the one Vesper had seen at the farmer’s market that it gave her chills.
“Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way…
” The old woman began shuffling papers on her desk.
“Perhaps now the two of you might tell me why a reporter and a coal magnate are so interested in a dead inventor that they’d make the foolish decision to come onto my turf and start asking odd questions? ”
“We’re trying to figure out who killed Francis Gladwell,” said Vesper. “I spoke to a source, and they mentioned that he came into a lot of money in the year before he died. They also implied that Francis might have been…” Vesper hesitated. “Uh, affiliated with the Rousers.”
At this, Miss Thally threw her head back, laughed, then nodded at the door.
“I assume Richard already told you this, but Frankie certainly wasn’t one of us.
That boy was a lot of things, but a gangster he was not.
He expressed no interest in joining our ranks.
Even if he had though, we’d never have taken him. ”
“Why?” Vesper asked.
Miss Thally gave her a curious look. “For one, Frankie never had the stomach for the real dirty work,” she said. “But it was more than that. He was a loud, careless man. He had all the finesse and tact of a bull in a china shop. There’s no room for men like that in my operation.”
Vesper frowned. “But if Francis wasn’t trying to join the Rousers, then how did he know you?”
Miss Thally sat back in her chair. “He didn’t know us. He was trying to get us to invest in that ridiculous machine of his.”
Vesper swallowed. “And you weren’t interested?”