Corinne crawled over her mother and father and the various great-aunts and cousins in her row and made a beeline for the side door. She didn’t dare look back for fear her mother’s glare would actually turn her to stone. Touching family moment aside, disturbing the Wells-Haversham wedding was treachery that could not be borne.
The street in front of the cathedral was empty by the time Corinne reached it.
“Dammit,” Corinne screamed, heedless of the twittering of two old ladies walking past.
Panic reared inside her, and she ran to one side of the church and then the other. She screamed another profanity, not caring who heard her.
“Cor?”
Corinne spun around to see Ada and Charlie coming down the street.
“He took Saint,” she cried. “Johnny was right here in the church, and he took Saint, and now they’re gone.”
They stared at her in shocked silence for a few moments, until Charlie finally blinked.
“Where could they have gone?” he asked. “The Cast Iron?”
“I don’t know,” Corinne said. She started to pace. “I don’t know. Jackson was with him. We assumed the gunman at the docks was a thespian pretending to be Jackson, but Jackson was just disguising himself.”
She remembered James pointing out how much the sketch looked like Babe Ruth and for a split second felt the awful surge of a laugh. Jackson must be a baseball fan. She should have known. She should have figured it out in time to stop any of this from happening.
“The warehouse,” Ada said suddenly. “Think about it.”
“I’m a little too stressed right now to think about things, Ada,” Corinne said. “So if you could just explain yourself, that would be grand.”
“If Jackson shot Tom Glenn and Gabriel, it must have been because Johnny told him to.”
“But why?” Corinne asked. “Glenn just helped at the docks. He hardly ever came around the Cast Iron.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Glenn and Gabriel both knew where the warehouse was and what he was storing there.”
“That explains why he came for Saint,” Charlie said. “Saint said he’d been there before.”
“This is all about that damn liquor,” Corinne said. “We have to find that warehouse.”
“We don’t even know if that’s where they’re going,” Charlie said.
“It’s our best option,” Ada said. “We have to try.”
“There are miles of wharves and hundreds of warehouses,” Corinne said. “Saint doesn’t have that kind of time.”
“He might be able to help with that,” Charlie said, pointing.
Corinne whirled to follow his finger across the street. Gabriel was standing there, his hands in his pockets, unmoving.
“Excuse me,” Corinne said. “I need to go perform a ritual disemboweling. I’ll be right back.”
She marched across the street, ignoring the honking car that almost mowed her down. She tried to think of something scathing to say, but for the first time in her life she had no words. So instead when she reached him, she punched him in the face.
Gabriel stumbled back, clutching his mouth. Corinne shook out her hand and swore, surprised at how badly it hurt. She had a feeling she might have hurt herself worse than Gabriel, which only infuriated her more. Her chest was tight and aching, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. When Gabriel lowered his hand, there was blood on his fingers. He stared at it for a second, eyebrows drawn in bewilderment.
“Corinne, please just listen to me,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“No, you listen to me,” Corinne shouted. She shoved him back again with as much force as she could muster, though even then he barely faltered. “I can’t believe you ever had the nerve to ask me if I felt guilty. Here’s a question for you, Gabriel Stone. Do you feel guilty? Because Maddy is dead, and it’s your fault.”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing bright red across his lower lip.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”
Even knowing his secret, Corinne still couldn’t read his expression. Whatever he was feeling remained as guarded as ever.
“I was an idiot to have trusted you,” Corinne said. “You’re not even that good a liar.”
“Someone once told me that the smartest person in the room is the easiest to fool.”
There was a quirk right at the corner of his lips. Almost a smile, but not quite. Corinne refused to be sidetracked by the veiled compliment.
“And someone once told me that high stakes are the key to a good bluff,” she said. “So let me guess—Johnny promised you a fortune beyond your wildest imagining.”
“I was never working for Johnny. I’m guessing that’s why he tried to kill me.”
“So just the HPA, then.” In her vehemence, she had forgotten all about Agent Pierce. She glanced around, half expecting the HPA to be closing in. There were a few pedestrians on the sidewalks, but no one was paying her and Gabriel any special attention.
“They don’t know I’m here,” Gabriel said, gleaning her thoughts with an ease that made her want to punch him again.
“Are you some kind of initiate?” Corinne asked. “Were we just a way to earn your badge?”
It wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask. Judging from the look in his eye, Gabriel could see that too, but he just shook his head. He retrieved something from his pocket and pushed it into her hands.
Corinne stared down at her grandfather’s pocket watch, once again speechless.
“Do you really want explanations?” Gabriel asked. “Or do you want to help Saint? I saw Johnny and Jackson take him. I know where the warehouse is. I’ve got the Ford around the corner.”
She wrapped her finger around the brass, which was still warm from Gabriel’s coat.
“Did you know that Saint would be able to get us out of the Cast Iron?” Her voice felt ragged.
“Not for sure. But I hoped.”
Corinne managed, with some difficulty, to meet his eyes again. “And how do we know it’s not some kind of trap?” she asked.
“Number twelve, Belvidere Street,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s my mother’s address.”
“So?”
“So if I’m lying, then you can give it to the police. She doesn’t speak any English. They’ll be more than happy to deport her, I’m sure.”
Corinne frowned at him. He hadn’t broken her gaze. She was struck again by how dark his eyes were, with the pupils almost indistinguishable from the irises.
“I would never do that,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “I trust you.”
And he wanted her to trust him. She didn’t know if that was possible, but they had to help Saint, and there didn’t seem to be any other way. Even if she couldn’t trust Gabriel Stone, she could use him. She shoved her grandfather’s watch into her pocket, where it belonged.
“Let’s go,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The sun had set by the time they arrived at the warehouse. The water glimmered darkly in the moonlight, and the air whispered with the sound of ships rocking gently against the docks. Gabriel parked a few blocks away, and they walked to the wharves. When he pointed out the warehouse, Ada had to grab Corinne’s arm to slow her down.
“Wait,” she said. “If we run in there without thinking, we’re all going to be killed.”
Corinne’s breaths were coming in quick gasps, but she seemed to understand the wisdom in Ada’s concern.
“You and Charlie have your instruments,” she said.
It had been Charlie’s idea to stop at the Red Cat on the way. He had retrieved his horn and a violin for Ada that he claimed to have borrowed and not stolen. It wasn’t as nice as hers, which was still probably tucked away in the basement of the Cast Iron, but it would serve.
“There’s got to be a back door to this place,” Corinne went on. “I’ll go in the front and distract Johnny,
and you two find a place to hide. Try to put them to sleep, or at least make them listen to me.”
“That’s a terrible plan, assuming they’re even in there,” Gabriel said. “And you’re not going by yourself.”
“Excuse me,” Corinne said, not quite looking at him. “But who is the only person here who doesn’t have the ability to control people’s minds? You’re a liability, Stone.”
“He’s right,” Ada said, absorbing the glare of betrayal that Corinne shot her. “Don’t be an idiot, Cor. You’re not just going to walk in there by yourself. Gabriel, I’m assuming you’re still armed?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go then. Be careful.”
Ada was pleased to find that everyone listened to her. She might be developing a taste for being in charge, because she could see why Corinne enjoyed it so much. They stayed together until they were one building away from the warehouse. There was a single streetlight ahead, but it flickered on and off. Charlie broke away for the gap between the two buildings, but Ada hesitated.
“Cor, wait,” she whispered.
Corinne turned around, her expression one of determined irritation. Ada held out her hand for their handshake, and Corinne softened. She pulled Ada into a sudden, desperate embrace.
“Don’t die,” she said into her ear. “And for cripes’ sake, tell Charlie you love him already.”
They parted smiling, and Ada ran to catch up with Charlie. They crept through the narrow alley, stepping around broken glass and murky puddles that were covered in fine swaths of lacy ice. The back of the warehouse was lined with grimy windows. Ada tried to peer through one, but the window was too dirty to make out anything. They ducked below them just in case and found the back door. There was a rusted latch on it that was padlocked.
For a few seconds, they just stared at it.
“We probably should have seen this coming,” Ada whispered.
“This whole breaking and entering thing is pretty new to me,” Charlie replied.
“What do we do? If we break a window, they’ll hear us.”
“Maybe there’s a crowbar in the car. Or we could use the hand crank.”
“You won’t be able to break the padlock with a hand crank.”
“No, but it looks like we only need a little leverage to break off the latch from the other end.”
Ada stared at the latch doubtfully. “I guess we have to try,” she said.
“That’s the spirit,” he said cheerfully. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Charlie, wait.”
She grabbed his shirt as he turned and pulled him back. His lips met hers so fast that he must have been reading her mind. His mouth still had the brassy taste from tuning his French horn. His hands were around her waist, and she savored the way she fit right into his arms. It felt better than easy. It felt right.
She pulled back until there was a hairbreadth between their lips, their foreheads touching. “I love you,” she whispered.
He grinned and met her mouth for one more kiss.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
Ada nodded, breathless, and he jogged off. She could hear him humming as he ran. She pressed her hand to her lips and tried not to smile.
The warehouse was cavernous, and when Corinne and Gabriel entered, it was eerily quiet. There was a row of electric bulbs hanging from the ceiling, buzzing with a golden glow. The knot in Corinne’s chest tightened. Someone was definitely here.
They edged along the inside wall, using the stacks upon stacks of wooden crates as cover. There was a low voice that she was positive was Johnny’s. For a while, as they crept through the maze of crates, she couldn’t make out the other sound. Then she caught a glimpse through a gap in two crates and realized it was Saint, sobbing.
She sank to her knees, pressing both hands over her mouth to smother a cry. Saint was dangling by his wrists with his toes barely brushing the ground. The chain around his wrists was also lashed around his bare torso three or four times. Corinne knew without looking a second time that it was pure iron. Gabriel’s hand was on her back, and she realized he had crouched down beside her. She looked at his face illuminated by the sliver of light between the crates. The disgust and anger she saw there bolstered her somehow. If he could face it, so could she. She peered back through the gap.
Jackson was slouched in a chair off to the left, checking the bullets in his gun. Johnny was standing in front of Saint, speaking in earnest tones that were completely at odds with the scene.
“I just need to know who else you told,” he said. “I wish we could have handled this in a more civilized manner, but I have to be sure. My sources assure me that the Eighteenth Amendment is going to be ratified. A year from now, when Prohibition goes into effect, this warehouse is going to be worth more than all of Boston.”
Saint was shaking too hard to speak, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I’ll just shoot him,” said Jackson. “Sniveling little shit didn’t tell anyone.”
“Is that true?” Johnny said to Saint, catching his chin in his hand. “If you think you’re protecting your friends, don’t worry—I’ll be taking care of them in short order.”
Saint jerked his head, succeeding only in swaying his entire body in the chains.
“You said if I came with you—” But he couldn’t finish.
Corinne could see his teeth were stained scarlet with blood. Someone must have hit him. She balled her hands into fists, trying to gain control over the fury that was building in her veins.
“I lied,” Johnny said. “To be honest, I just wanted to see if you were made of stronger stuff than your old man. After you left Ada high and dry, it didn’t seem likely. At least now you can die knowing you’ve redeemed yourself. It’s more than your father managed.”
“This is taking too long,” Jackson said.
“I thought a thespian of all people would appreciate the theatrics of it,” Johnny said, more to Saint than to his cohort. “This is how the ironmongers do it, you know. String the slagger up with iron, then slit the calves open, here and here.” He drew lines with his finger across Saint’s calves. “Chain ’em and drain ’em.”
Saint whimpered. Blood was dripping from his mouth, bright and angry against his pale skin.
“It’s not my fault,” Johnny said. “This would have been so much easier if you’d just kept your mouth shut at the station last month. I had a nice, quick death arranged for you in lockup. Shiv to the neck. You would have bled out before you realized what was happening.”
There was a sound near the back of the warehouse.
“Jackson, go,” Johnny said.
Jackson had jumped out of his chair, clicking the chamber of his gun closed. It was a strange model that Corinne had seen a few times before. Johnny had had them specially made somewhere overseas. Pistols and bullets made entirely without iron. Still just as deadly though.
She realized that the sound had to be Ada and Charlie at the back door. Without thinking, she stood up and rounded the crates.
“Johnny!” she yelled.
Both men’s attention snapped to her.
“Corinne,” Johnny said. She could tell he was surprised but not necessarily alarmed, which she would have preferred.
“You’re a hard man to track down,” she said. She was pleased to find that her voice wasn’t shaking.
“I guess this means that Ada is around here somewhere,” Johnny said. “Jackson, put your gun on Miss Wells, and if she says another word, shoot her.”
“Don’t.”
Corinne heard Gabriel’s voice behind her. She glanced back and saw that he had his gun trained on Jackson. He moved up slowly to stand beside her.
“Now, you’re the last person I expected to see here, Stone,” said Johnny.
“Please tell me you have perfect aim,” Corinne said to Gabriel.
“Better than him,” Gabriel said, nodding toward Jackson. “He was only a few yards away when he missed me.”
; “Won’t happen again,” Jackson growled.
Corinne held her breath for a few seconds, hoping to hear the first strains of music, but there was nothing yet.
“Take Saint down,” Corinne said, lifting her hands slightly, palms up. “We can work something out.”
“I think we’re past that now,” Johnny said quietly.
To Corinne’s chagrin, he had stepped partially behind Saint, where Gabriel no longer had a clear shot if it came to that.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said. There was a quiver in her voice now. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. “We’ve always had your back, Johnny.”
“That’s true,” he said. His eyebrows tilted downward in the barest frown. “I didn’t plan any of this, you know. But you just had to pull the Bengali banker. How am I supposed to run a business when the cops are sniffing outside the doors every night? And when they pass that amendment, the Cast Iron will be finished. I even tried to give you an out. I sent Jackson as Gordon to make sure you thought I was dead. I figured Ada would leave town and you would run back home. It should have been a clean break—except neither of you could leave well enough alone.”
“Told you they wouldn’t,” Jackson said, earning a cutting look from his employer.
“We’ll leave it alone now,” Corinne said, “if you let us take Saint.”
Johnny shook his head. He was pulling something from his pocket—earplugs. Jackson had a pair around his neck and used one hand to shove them into place, keeping his gun hand ready. Corinne realized it didn’t matter where Charlie and Ada were now. It was over.
“Sorry, Corinne. It can’t be helped,” Johnny said. “Jackson, kill them.”
Gabriel grabbed Corinne’s arm and yanked her behind him. She closed her eyes waiting for the shots, waiting for the end of everything.
But there weren’t any.
Just a loud thump, followed by a softer one. She opened her eyes and looked past Gabriel and saw Charlie standing over Jackson’s prone body, gripping his French horn.
“Who would’ve thought these things could be so versatile?” he asked.
From behind Saint, Johnny spat out a curse. Corinne saw the knife glinting in his hand and ran forward, her warning caught in her throat. Saint let out a gasping cry and kicked both legs backward. His heels caught Johnny in the chest, and Johnny stumbled backward, right into the steel bar that Ada was swinging at his head.
Iron Cast Page 30
