by Nerys Leigh
George knocked the hat from his head, grabbed hold of a handful of hair, and jerked his head backwards.
The man started awake with a grunt.
“The manager, Brown, where is he?”
The man blinked up at him blearily. “Wha’?” He raised a hand to his head. “Ouch.”
George batted his hand away. “The manager of this wretched excuse for a building, where is he?”
“Second floor, number eighteen.” He made a feeble attempt to push George away. “Let go of me.”
George released him and started up the stairs, the sound of Millie’s footsteps reassuring him that she was following.
He found number eighteen quickly and pounded his fist on the door. When there was no answer within two seconds, he knocked again. He kept knocking until the door opened.
“What on earth…?” Brown managed before George barreled into him, shoving him backwards.
Brown stumbled and fell with a grunt.
The revolver was out of George’s holster before he hit the floor. “Where are they?”
“Get out of…” His eyes went to the gun aimed at his face and he stopped, his gaze moving to George. “You!”
“You have exactly five seconds to tell me where they are before I start shooting.”
“Where who are?”
A greasy looking woman appeared at a doorway along the hall, shrieked, and disappeared again. The door slammed shut behind her.
“Henry and Mary Sullivan,” Millie said from behind George. “We know you’ve done something with them.”
Surprise flicked across Brown’s face for just a fraction of a second before it was replaced by a scowl, but it was more than enough to convince George that he was right about the manager’s involvement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
George leaned down and caught hold of his collar, jerking him halfway off the floor and pressing the gun’s muzzle to his cheek. “Then you’re no use to me.”
He thumbed the hammer back, its click ominously loud in the small hallway.
“No wait, wait!” The landlord threw up his hands, all pretense gone. “I didn’t do nothing to them. I just handed them over.”
“Handed them over to who?”
His eyes darted to Millie. “If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”
“If you don’t,” George growled, “I’ll kill you. Right now.”
Brown made a weak attempt at bravado, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If you kill me, you’ll never find out where they are.”
So he did know where they were. George had worried that he wouldn’t.
He moved the revolver from his cheek to his thigh. “Who says I’ll kill you all at once?”
What little color was left in Brown’s face vanished. “All right, don’t shoot! They’re at a house over on Amos Street, number eighty-seven. I swear, I didn’t hurt them.”
“Who has them? What do they want them for?”
“Don’t know and I don’t ask. I just hand the kids over and get my money.”
George’s frown deepened. “How many children have you done this to?”
Brown swallowed again, his eyes darting away. “A… few.”
The strongest urge to drive his fist into the man’s oily face over and over gripped George. Instead, he shoved him back to the floor and straightened.
“Let’s go,” he said to Millie, following her back out into the corridor.
She glanced back at him as they hurried for the stairs, worry creasing her forehead. He reached out to take her hand.
Whatever happened, he was getting those children back and keeping Millie safe.
He just wasn’t sure how he was going to do both at once.
~ ~ ~
Eighty-seven Amos Street was a decrepit, red brick house set back from the road behind a thick, overgrown hedge. It looked half abandoned, although there were heavy curtains drawn across the windows and a path had been worn to the door through the copious weeds pushing up between the flagstones in the front yard.
How it had escaped being torn down and replaced by a tenement block like everything else in the area, George had no idea.
“I need to see what’s inside,” he said, peering around the corner of the building next door. “Stay here.”
Millie caught hold of his hand. “Be careful.”
He smiled, although he didn’t know how reassuring it was. “I’ll be right back.”
He nodded a silent instruction to keep her safe to Ira where he stood behind her, then left the cover of the wall.
He strolled nonchalantly along the line of the hedge, even though there were few people about this early in the morning, and at the last moment darted through a gap into the front yard. Out of sight of the road, he ducked down and ran to the house where he pressed himself against the wall. And then he waited.
After half a minute had passed and there was no sign from inside that he’d been spotted, he edged to the closest window and peered in. Although the majority of the room was hidden by the closed curtains, there was a gap at the very edge. He squinted into the dark interior.
The only furniture in the sparse room was a grubby settee and two wooden chairs. There was a man asleep on the settee. George glimpsed a revolver tucked into his waistband. As far as he could see, no one else was in the room.
Drawing away from the window, he considered the rest of the front of the house. There were two windows on the first floor, flanking the front door, and two more above on the second.
He checked the second window on his level, but the room inside was empty of anything other than two battered wooden packing crates. As there was no way to get up to the second floor windows, he made his way around the left side of the house where a narrow path led to the rear.
There was even more undergrowth away from the front yard and he had to walk slowly to avoid rustling the tall weeds as he passed. Towards the back, a window set into the side wall stood open a couple of inches. He crept up to the sill and looked inside for a moment before quickly ducking back down. No covering impeded his view this time and he’d got a good look at the kitchen inside, including the two men sitting at a table in the center of the room.
So that was three so far. He hoped there weren’t any more. Three he could probably deal with. More might be a problem.
He continued to the back where a jungle of weeds, grass, and overgrown shrubs greeted him. The rear wall of the house was broken by a similar pattern of windows as the front, in addition to two shallow basement windows at ground level.
He dropped down to his stomach to see into the closest. Despite the filthy glass, enough light filtered through to reveal a dank, empty room, the floor covered with filth and trash. Even through the closed window, he could smell the waste.
Grimacing in disgust, he pushed to his feet and crept towards the other side of the house. A voice made him freeze.
A child’s voice.
He couldn’t make out the words, but it had come from the other basement window. Whatever the child had said, a man’s voice answered harshly and was followed by silence.
George inched up to the window, lowered to his stomach, and peeked inside.
A man sat on a chair by a door George assumed led into the rest of the house. Against the wall opposite the window huddled a row of seven terrified looking children.
A sick feeling opened up the pit of George’s stomach at the sight of Henry and Mary pressed together, Henry’s arms wrapped protectively around his sister. He was casting venomous looks at their captor, which the man was ignoring in favor of reading a dog-eared book. George thanked God that they appeared unharmed, but there was no guarantee they would stay that way if he didn’t get them out soon.
He rose to his feet to check the final first floor window, but the room was completely empty. Returning the way he’d come, he was passing the kitchen window when one of the men inside spoke.
“Better go wake Bert. They’ll be here soon.”
“I
’m not waking him. You know what he’s like when he wakes up. You wake him.”
The first man heaved a sigh. “What, you scared?”
“When it comes to Bert waking up, yes.”
“Fine, I’ll do it. When I’ve finished my bread.”
George crept from the window and made his way back to the front of the house. From there he returned to the road where Millie and Ira waited.
“They’re there,” George said as soon as he reached them. “There’re some more children too. Seven that I could see, including Henry and Mary.”
“Are they all right?” Millie asked.
“Far as I can tell. They’re in the basement. There’s one man watching them plus two more in the kitchen and another one asleep in one of the rooms at the front. I don’t know if there’s anyone upstairs.”
“Are they armed?” Ira asked.
“I couldn’t tell with all of them, but the one asleep and the one guarding the children had revolvers on them, so I think it’s safe to assume the two in the kitchen do too. I didn’t see any rifles or shotguns, but that don’t mean there weren’t any.”
“We need to get the police,” Millie said. “We need to get Mary and Henry and those other poor children out of there.”
“I heard them talking about someone arriving soon. I think that might mean they’re planning on moving the children. You take the buggy and get the police here. Me and Ira will go in and...”
“No!” She grasped his arm as if to hold him there, panic in her eyes. “You might get hurt.”
He touched her cheek with his free hand. “I can’t leave them in there. If someone is coming, this may be our only chance to rescue them.”
Her face hardened and she straightened her shoulders. “Then I’m coming with you.”
It was his turn to panic. “What? No. There is no way you’re going anywhere near…”
“Why not?”
“Because you might get hurt!”
“So what you’re saying is, it’s all right if you get hurt and I’m terrified out of my mind for you, but not if I get hurt and you’re the one terrified?”
“No. Yes. I…” He struggled for a good answer. There didn’t seem to be one. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t come.”
“Yes, I can.” She looked at Ira. “Don’t you agree?”
Ira’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Um, I’m not really comfortable with you being in danger, Miss Ravens…”
“Remember who you work for.”
George frowned at her. “Now wait a minute, that’s not fair.”
“It’s perfectly fair. Ira works for my father so he has to agree with me. So it’s two against one. I’m going.”
“This isn’t a vote!”
“What’s the plan?”
He threw his hands into the air. She was so infuriating he could have screamed. But he had the feeling that whatever he said, she would do what she wanted to anyway. It was probably safer to allow her to be a part of the rescue. At least then he could, to some extent, control what she did. But he wasn’t allowing her anywhere near danger.
“Fine, you can come. But you have to do just as I say.”
She nodded. “I will. As long as it makes sense.”
He huffed out a breath. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
~ ~ ~
George peered through the window at the man still asleep on the settee. Evidently neither of the men in the kitchen had yet worked up the courage to wake Bert. That was good. He’d be awake soon enough, but that couldn’t be helped.
Glancing back at the gap in the hedge surrounding the property, he beckoned Millie and Ira in. They hurried across the yard and disappeared around the side of the house, heading for the back.
George left the window and tiptoed up to the front door, hoping to get lucky when he tried the handle. Sadly, he didn’t, but he had an alternative plan to get inside. It wouldn’t be quiet, but he needed to make some noise anyway. He was the distraction.
He picked up a brick from a small pile he’d spotted earlier, carried it to the window of the empty front room, and waited twenty or so seconds to give Millie and Ira time to get into position.
Father, I reckon we’re really going to need Your help on this. So please keep us safe, especially Millie, and help us to get those kids out without any of them getting hurt. In the name of Your Son, Jesus. Amen.
Now he was ready.
With a deep breath in and out, he lifted the brick and heaved it at the window.
The crash of shattering glass split the peace of the early morning. George thrust his hand through the hole in the glass, unlatched the window, and pushed it open. Grasping the edges of the sill, he climbed inside.
At the sound of footsteps, he darted behind the closed door. A moment later it opened and Bert ran in, his eyes going to the open window.
He just had time to mutter “What the…” before George’s gun slammed into the back of his head and he dropped, unmoving, to the floor.
George stepped over his inert body and out into the hallway.
“Hey! Who are you?!”
To his right, the two men who had been in the kitchen stood in a doorway.
“I’m the man who’s going to bring you to justice,” George replied, raising his gun.
The two men pulled their weapons free.
And then the shooting started.
~ ~ ~
Millie peeked over the windowsill into the kitchen. The two men George had described were still at the table. Ducking down, she silently motioned to Ira to follow her and they made their way around to the back of the house.
George had said the back yard was overgrown. He’d been understating things.
She held her skirts in close to avoid rustling the myriad weeds and bushes as she led the way to the basement window on the far side of the house, careful to place each footstep where it wouldn’t make any noise. She’d insisted on helping; she wasn’t going to give them away before they’d even started.
Ira moved past her when they reached the low window and flattened himself onto the ground to look inside.
“Are they in there?” she whispered.
When he nodded, she joined him on the ground to see for herself. Her heart ached at the sight of little Mary huddled beside her brother, her face pressed into his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her.
Her eyes moved to the man seated by the door and anger swept over her. Why a person would do such a thing to children, she couldn’t begin to understand. But she was determined to see him and his associates in prison where they could never do it again. Her father would make sure of that. All she had to do was make sure they were caught. And she would.
As she waited, she prayed that God would send His angels to keep George safe. The thought of anything happening to him filled her with a terror she felt deep down in her soul. Now she’d found him, she couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose the man she loved a second time.
Clenching her fists, she put the thought from her mind. She couldn’t allow fear to distract her. They were going to rescue the children, they were going to bring the men to justice, and they were going to be safe. She wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.
Suddenly, the man in the basement looked up from his book.
Millie held her breath.
He twisted to look back at the door then rose and dropped his book onto the chair. He pointed at the children and said something she couldn’t make out, then he opened the door and left, pulling it closed behind him.
This was it.
Millie knocked on the window and the children raised their eyes. Henry’s face lit up and he scrambled to his feet and ran to the window. Millie pointed at the latch and he reached up to unfasten it.
“We’re getting you out of here,” she said as soon as the window was open. “Can you get everyone up here?”
Henry looked around. “We can use the chair.”
The other children were climbing to their feet n
ow.
As Henry ran to fetch the chair on which their captor had been sitting, Mary rushed to the window, reaching up. “I knew you’d come.”
Blinking back the burning in her eyes, Millie reached down but couldn’t quite stretch to her small hand. “You’re going to be all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Mary nodded, her face shining with trust, and Millie prayed desperately that God would enable her to live up to her promise.
Henry carried the chair to the window and helped one of the other small children to climb up, but even with the extra height of the chair, the young boy couldn’t reach the window.
“Miss Ravensworth,” Ira said from behind her, “perhaps I could get inside.”
She moved away from the window to give him room, but his broad shoulders were too wide for the tiny window. It was clear he’d never fit.
“Move back,” Millie said, gathering her skirts around her. “I’ll go in and pass the children up to you.”
“Miss Ravensworth…” he began.
She fixed him with her most adamant look. “No arguments. We have to get them out.”
He puffed a breath through his nose and nodded. “Yes, we do.”
It took her precious seconds to maneuver in through the window, and she had to abandon all notions of decency to do it, but eventually her feet touched the chair. It wobbled a little, but she was able to climb down to the basement floor.
Mary flew into her embrace, clamping her small arms around her waist and pressing her face into Millie’s stomach.
Millie left her there for a few, too brief, moments before pulling away. “We have to get everyone outside to Ira,” she said, leaning down to bring her face to the little girl’s level. “Can you help?”
Wiping at her eyes, Mary nodded.
Millie smiled and kissed her forehead. “You’re such a brave girl.” She looked round at the rest of the children. “I’m going to lift you each up to the window, but we have to be very quiet so those men won’t hear us. Do you understand?”
Although every one of them looked scared out of their wits, they all nodded silently.
