by V. J. Timlin
“I’m very aware of the dangers, but can you come up with a better idea?” Anouk asked. “Like getting enforcers involved?”
“Very well then,” Nat growled. “We go along with your plan. And yes, we’re getting word to the enforcers too.”
Anouk’s stomach sank and she buried her face in her hand. “We better pull this off.”
Vari wrapped her arms around Anouk’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, love. Me and Fitzwil will help you as we did at the port.”
“And I’m not going to let them kill you. We’ll arm you to the teeth.” Nat slapped his hands against his tights. “Alright. Let’s make an action plan.”
“Yes, and I’ll check your wound, Anouk,” Vari said.
Anouk winced. During her adrenaline-filled afternoon, she had forgotten all about the pain and Vari’s promise of more white balm. “There really is no need. It hardly hurts anymore.”
Vari gave her a flat look. “You sound like Nat. Now, you go inside and we’ll treat your wound before you get new ones.”
“Isn’t it bad enough I volunteered to walk into Madam Valeria’s brothel? Do I have to endure that white balm all over again? What is it anyway? A slow poison?” Anouk muttered as she followed Vari to the caravan.
* * *
The caravan swayed on to the uneven surface of Rondon’s streets, wheels rattling against the cobblestones and the clip-clop of the mare’s hooves drifted inside. The streetlights cast short flashes at regular intervals into the dimly lit interior like pulsating stars. Nat and Anouk sat at the table, leaning over a paper full of drawings and scribbles.
“You explain to Madam Valeria that we have fallen out, and you don’t have a Gadget to return home. You need work and a place to stay.”
“Got it.” Anouk nodded. This was the third time Nat went through the plan with her, but she didn’t mind. She was scared almost beyond her wits and needed Nat’s assurance. Judging by his grim expression, so did he. Even after a couple of hours, she still couldn’t quite understand why she volunteered to walk into that… place. What was wrong with her? Stealthy access via the rooftop would have been a good option. And the chance of getting killed would have been more or less the same. But, in truth, she knew why she did it—to gain a foothold and make sure Nat would too.
“You need to look miserable and if you can, cry. That’d be good.”
“Oh, I can do that. I’m so scared I might even vomit!”
“Crying would be preferable. Vomiting might not have the desired outcome.” Nat flashed a wry smile before going back to grim again. He fixed his chocolate brown eyes on Anouk. “I don’t like sending you there alone, but I wouldn’t let you do it if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
Anouk tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “Thanks.”
“Vari and Fitzwil will be there too. It’s like that night when you came to my rescue at the harbour.”
Anouk took a deep breath and nodded. Yes, there was little difference. She had done her part as planned, so there was no reason why she couldn’t succeed here also. Only, then she had seven thugs from The Pits as her opponents. Now, she had Stalo, two of his henchmen, including Captain Biddulph, and an unknown number of others. Because of this, Nat had made a concession—he had agreed to involve the Royal Enforcers, but not without conditions. They would be alerted but only after he and Anouk were in and had a head start. Anouk would have preferred enforcers coming sooner, but she understood Nat’s point.
“Prostitution is technically illegal in this country,” he had said. “Because of that, Madam Valeria, like any other brothel keeper, has to deal with occasional raids, so has expensive and guaranteed exits for important clients, which Stalo and his henchmen may have access to.”
Yes, better not to risk it, not now, when she and Nat were so close to getting them.
Nat forced a smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes, though. “Good. So when you’re in, Vari and Fitzwil will alert the enforcers. It will take some time before they arrive. Meanwhile, I’ll enter via the roof, and when I’m in and have located the target, I’ll give you the signal.”
“Yes, the fire alarm.”
“Exactly. Use the electric prod Vari gave you to stun Madam Valeria, and if there is someone else in the room, stun them as well, regardless if you think them friend or foe. Then throw as many knockout gas balls as you need—don’t forget, put on the gas mask first though—and find me. Or, I’ll find you, if I get Stalo and his men subdued before that.”
“Got it. So I ask them politely to wait for their turn to be electrocuted while I’m dealing with Madam Valeria.” Nat gave her a flat look. She lifted her hands up apologetically. “Sorry, a bad joke. I’ll try to be as quick as possible. With luck, there won’t be anyone else but the madam… and perhaps Mr Sunshine… and Stalo and his lackeys. Okay, okay, I’ll zip it.”
Nat cocked his eyebrow. “Zip it?”
“Shut up, close my mouth, stop talking.”
Nat rolled his eyes. “Now, we have about twenty to thirty minutes before the enforcers arrive, so we have to make the arrest quickly.”
Anouk nodded in acknowledgement.
“Don’t take your katana with you. It’s impossible to hide it in your clothes, and they’d only confiscate it anyway. A gun is better. If they ask where’s your sword, tell them it got broken.”
“Alright,” Anouk said with reluctance. She understood Nat’s point, but the feel of the sword on her back gave her a sense of security, more so than her Phines. She was clumsy with the gun. Also, hiding the prod under her jacket made her nervous. Vari had assured her it was safe, but what if it switched on for some reason? She could stun herself. That would be catastrophic and… embarrassing. Another thought occurred to her, and she gulped, unnerved before sharing it. “What if the prod doesn’t work?”
Nat regarded her for a moment, his face unreadable. “Then you use it as a club.”
“Great,” Anouk muttered.
With the plan clear as a crystal in her head, she and Nat armed themselves. Anouk slipped her new Phines into the holster under her armpit and secured the electric prod under her other arm, making sure the latch touched nothing. Nat loaded his backpack with smoke bombs and knockout gas balls. He put his revolver into the holster and tucked his own electric prod under his belt.
The caravan halted with a jerk and Nat glanced out of the window. “Time to go.” He turned to face Anouk. “Ready?”
“No,” Anouk whimpered.
Nat stepped over and embraced her. “You can do this. I have faith in you,” he whispered into her ear. He pushed out to arm’s distance. “You all set?”
Anouk patted the gun and prod under her jacket. “All set.”
“Good.” Nat smiled. “Remember, we have twenty to thirty minutes before the enforcers are in.”
“Got it.”
With a sudden move, Nat pulled Anouk back into his arms and squeezed her tight against his chest. “I won’t let them hurt you. Not this time.” His whisper was thick and almost inaudible. Before she could say anything, he let go of her and stepped out, vanishing into the busy Roister Street.
Anouk stared at the door, her throat tightening and tears burning in her eyes.
Chapter 22
Anouk stood on Roister Street, staring at Madam Valeria’s brothel—red hued lights illuminated every window like glowing lures. An occasional shadow passed the light, telling Anouk the rooms were in active use. Assuming the girls knew who had murdered Shannah… What was it like for them now when their comrade had been murdered and the murderer was living with them, under the protection of their own boss? It couldn’t be easy. The knowledge they couldn’t trust Madam Valeria anymore must have had consequences. Anouk hoped it would work in her and Nat’s favour.
She wiped her clammy hands on her trousers and scanned the busy street. Prostitutes walked around, their bodices buttoned low, chatting with men who openly ogled their assets. High-pitched giggles, accompanied by hot mutters and guffaws, erupte
d now and then when a working girl and client found an agreement and were heading to God knows where to complete the business.
Anouk shuddered and turned back to observe the building. Carriages pulled up in front of the stairs and gentlemen in top hats stepped out. They came in different sizes and shapes, but two things they all had in common—impeccable suits and arrogant demeanours. Without exception the gentlemen strode up the stairs, vanishing behind the red door.
She should go inside too, but by the side entrance of the gambling room. She was stalling, and she knew why—Madam Valeria’s was the last place she wanted to enter.
But this had been her idea.
“I know, I know,” Anouk muttered. She licked her dry lips. All moisture had vanished from her mouth. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and her whole body was on high alert. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and glanced to the opposite side of the street—Vari’s and Fitzwil’s position. Knowing they were there eased her nerves a touch. Her thoughts drifted to Nat, and she looked up to Madam Valeria’s roof. He should be up there somewhere.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. She gasped, startled, and jumped back from the hand. A man in a black cap with matching jacket and trousers leaned towards her, swaying. The clothes had seen better days. Some tears had been patched, but some still waited to be mended. A few days of old stubble covered his square jaw. He would have been a handsome man if he took better care of his appearance and stank less of alcohol.
Anouk put her hand over her nose and glowered at him. “What do you want?”
The man’s drooping grey eyes tried focusing on her face, and he slurred a litany of words.
“What?” Anouk asked.
The man frowned and slurred again, like he was trying to ask her something.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
The frown on his face deepened into a scowl as he raised his voice. “You… look like that bitch… who dared to defy me in that whorehouse.” He stabbed with his finger towards Madam Valeria’s.
Anouk gulped. Shit, this was the man who had grabbed her—the one she’d humiliated with her wrist lock. Everything had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had time to take a proper look at her attacker. She couldn’t blame him for remembering her but still, she shook her head. “No, sir, you must be mistaken. I’ve never been to that place, but am heading there now. I’ll tell you what…” she took him by his shoulder and turned him around, “…if you go home now and…”
The man slipped from her grasp with surprising agility for someone clearly worse for wear and turned to face her again. “You’re that bitch.” Spit flew from his mouth, and she dodged to avoid getting any on her face. He growled and lifted his arms to grab her. “I’ll show you, whore.”
Anouk jumped back. “I’m not a bitch or a whore,” she snapped. “And if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll have to hurt you.”
The man charged with the elegance of a drunken peg-legged panther, flailing his hands. He snarled; his face twisted in rage. Anouk danced out of his reach. She had to get rid of him before their uneven match drew too much attention. The wrist lock was out of the question. It would attract unwanted eyes. There was only one thing she could do.
The man charged again. “Come here, you bitch.”
“You really are annoying, aren’t you? Well, I warned you.” She veered behind him, wrapped her arm around his throat and started to press his neck. The man snarled and fought, frantically trying to claw Anouk’s hands but she simply added more pressure. Sweat ran down her face as she kept him firmly in the neck lock. After what seemed like a valuable eternity, the man’s resistance weakened and he went limp.
Anouk gritted her teeth, trying to keep a hold of the man. He was a dead weight. A dead weight? Had she killed him? She glanced around, searching for a place where she could drag the body and check for life signs. She spotted a bench and started to pull him towards it. Her eyes stopped at a couple—they were looking at her, their faces creased. Anouk forced a smile. “Legs gone. Too many drinks.”
“He has a bit of a drinking problem, but otherwise he’s a good groom,” a woman said behind her. Vari. Relief washed over Anouk.
She looked over her shoulder at the older woman. “Quite, and he doesn’t like being reminded about it.”
Fitzwil stepped forward and took the man from Anouk. “Come on, lad. Time to go home.”
The couple eyed them for a few moments before shrugging. They strolled past without another look.
“Thanks,” Anouk whispered. “I had no choice.”
“Yes, we saw,” Vari said. “Nat will be in position soon, so you better get there too. We’ll take care of this one.”
“Is he…” Anouk started.
Fitzwil nodded. “He’s alive. Now, go.”
She bobbed her head and hurried towards Madam Valeria’s. She chewed her lower lip, all too aware of the time wasted. If Nat was already in, he wouldn’t know Anouk had yet to get in position. No sound of a fire alarm came to the street, though, nor were people pouring out from an evacuation. She stalked towards the basement and ran down the stairs. In front of the dark door, she lifted her fist to knock, but stopped—the courage she had seconds ago plummeted into her boots. An icy grip clutched her stomach tight, flipping it upside down and threatening to send her last meal up to her throat. She drew a deep shaking breath to steady her storming innards and knocked on the door before she could hesitate more. Soon the flap opened, and Mr Sunshine filled the square gap with his squinting eyes.
“Yes?”
“Good evening…” Anouk’s voice faltered. What was his real name? She could hardly call him Mr Sunshine. “Sir. Could I speak with Madam Valeria, please? Tell her it’s Miss Herring, and I’d like to know if the offer of employment is still on.”
The eyes of the madam’s bouncer narrowed even further. She knew she looked exactly how she felt—scared almost beyond her wits. Her whole body shook.
“I need a job,” she whimpered.
He made a gruff noise and closed the flap. Anouk stared at it. Had he dismissed her right away? Did he suspect a trap? If so, what should she do now? Nat would need her help. Soon.
“Calm down, girl. He just went to check with Madam Valeria,” she muttered.
She stood in front of the door, shifting from foot to foot and tapping now and then the gun and the prod under her coat. The minutes stretched and so did her patience. She jumped at every clang and shout coming from the street, expecting to see Stalo’s men at the top of the stairs.
Hollow gongs from the bell tower drifted over the noise of the traffic. It was ten. She must have been waiting at least fifteen minutes. Shit! They didn’t buy her story. What now? Nat would be in soon if he wasn’t already. Should she go tell Vari and Fitzwil?
Anouk had just taken a step towards the stairs when the door opened and the doorman appeared. He cocked his head to the side. “Follow me.”
Anouk swallowed hard and stepped over the threshold—there was no turning back now. The gambling room was packed. Men played cards and women circulated the tables like the first night she had visited the brothel. The air was thick with a mixture of tobacco smoke and heavy perfume. Frequent yells, curses and laughter pierced the noisy conversation around the tables.
She kept close to the doorman’s back, shooting wary glances around trying to spot Stalo’s men. She ran the plan through her mind—soppy story about falling out with Nat, needing money, pleading for Madam Valeria to take her. Buying time until the fire alarm would go off—Nat’s sign. Knock out Madam Valeria, tie her up and go look for Nat. Should be straightforward. Still, everything could go horribly wrong…
A few men turned and leered at her. Anouk’s skin started to prickle in fear. She gritted her teeth in defiance. She won’t fail, goddammit.
They walked up the stairs to the hall of the first floor. Only the erotic paintings broke the monotonous colouring. Red was the hue of love, but also the tone of spilt blood. A
nouk shuddered.
Her eyes caught sight of Lila. She was walking down the stairs from the second floor, wearing a red corset and a black lacy miniskirt, a tall feather swayed on her head as she descended. She spotted Anouk and her eyes widened in recognition. Fear clutched Anouk’s throat. Would Lila guess why Anouk was there? Would she warn Mr Sunshine?
Anouk shook her head once at her and Lila’s expression changed from surprised to blank, and she inclined her head an inch.
“What are you standing there for? If your headache has gone, get back to work.”
Lila turned her gaze towards the doorman. “Just looking, Jasper. Is this a new girl? Shannah’s replacement?”
A chill ran down Anouk’s spine—Lila’s tone had been cold and indifferent.
“Madam Valeria decides that. Now, to the gambling room with you.”
Lila shrugged and resumed walking down the steps. “Maybe we’ll see each other later,” she said to Anouk.
“Maybe,” Anouk muttered. Lila vanished behind the curtains. Hopefully, she would help them when the shit hit the fan.
Mr Sunshine—Jasper—lead Anouk to the same salon as on her two previous visits. Jasper opened the door and waved her to go in. She hesitated for a moment. Her hand moved towards the prod under her jacket, but she resisted the urge to touch it. Jasper was watching her through his once again narrowed eyes. She took a deep breath and walked past him into the room.
“Do come in.” Madam Valeria was lying on a divan, dressed in a corset and translucent dressing gown. “It is so good of you to come. Please, be seated.” Her voice was her signature low and husky.
“Thank you for seeing me.” Anouk was gracious in her response but made no move to sit on the offered sofa. She clasped her hands in front of her and studied the madam’s face. There was no sign of suspicion. Instead, Madam Valeria was offering her a serene smile. A tiny flutter of hope tickled Anouk’s chest—maybe the madam believed her intention. After all, she had tried to hire Anouk several times. Maybe that clouded her judgement. Did she dare to hope they would pull this off against all the odds?
