Evelyn and Kirkland took charge of us and the Irregulars who had been our warning about the car bomb. I watched as they corralled the little rascals and coaxed them to come back to our place. Once they started calling our home “headquarters,” the little adventure-seeking devils were more than willing to accompany us. Of course, it was also under the assumption that there would be food and treats aplenty.
After a great number of miracles in organization, we all made it back, cleaned up, filled our plates with food that seemed to magically appear, filled up coffee cups and glasses with more medicinal beverages, and all of us sat down in our parlor. We squashed ourselves in, making an outer ring of adults with an inner circle of kids sitting cross-legged on the floor.
The kids, about eight in number, ranged in all manner of sizes, ethnicities, and ages. Although with their general griminess they all looked a lot alike. I noticed with a grin hidden behind my hand that Captain Morgan sat in the outer ring with the other adults. The urchins had been reluctant to enter our house. But once they made it to the top of the stairs and the delicious scents of hot hamburgers, sugary baked beans, and warm brownies in the oven wafted over, they made no bones about it.
After an exceedingly long period of disorganized and excited yelling from the children and Fio, Morgan gave us the lowdown. While holding a coffee cup in her hand, she began a thorough account. “Well, we were still on assignment from Finn. We had been following you, Lane. We are very familiar with the Lower East Side, and we had known about that particular shack. In fact, several of our group had used it for a place to sleep on more than one occasion. Once you made your way to Cherry and Clinton Streets, we had an inkling of where you were headed. There had been some rumors of some big gangsters scoping it out. You know I don’t believe in coincidences . . . So we split up, one team staying with you, Lane, and the others going ahead to the shack. They had seen a man, who turned out to be Tucker, enter the building first, a good ten minutes before you got near the place.”
She nodded to the other tall kid, her lieutenant, I supposed, and said, “Spry, I mean Eric, was in charge of the team that went to the shack.”
The tall, good-looking kid with serious eyes sat opposite Morgan, the only other of the Irregulars to sit with the grown-ups. He had his elbows resting on bent knees, taking in every detail of our meeting. I watched Eric look around the room, scrutinizing each one of us. He’d finished his entire plate and as Morgan nodded to him he spoke up. “One of our best scouts, Connor there, had split off from the group by the house and had gone far off to the side to keep watch.”
Connor was the freckled rascal with a big grin, showing one tooth missing. He looked like he’d be the class clown. But as soon as Eric mentioned him, he got down to business. He looked like a playful spaniel, cute and goofy until the moment his master had him on the hunt. Then he was on point, competent and professional. His big brown eyes looked up at Eric. “Connor was the one that noticed Eliza’s car there. She had driven up slowly and quietly just after Tucker had arrived at the house.”
Connor chimed in, “Yeah! I was just about to report back that a suspicious car was there, but just as I was about to leave, I spotted a shadowy guy creeping over to the car, staying close to the ground. The man reached up under the side of the car with something bulky in his hand and when he pulled back his hand, the box or whatever it was, was gone. I knew it was a bomb. As soon as the guy left, I booked it over to Morgan.”
My eyes shifted to her and I saw a look of fear slide across her face as she remembered that message being delivered. She cleared her throat. “But before I could run to intercept you, Lane, Eliza blasted the house. There was so much going on at once—it was crazy! I saw Finn tackle Lane, then Fio jumped on to the pile. Afterward, I watched Eliza enter the house, heard the scream, and then saw Roarke and Val running to you. Then I remembered the car bomb. And you guys had started to walk toward the house where the car was parked. Toward the bomb!” She shook her head like she couldn’t believe our ineptitude.
Having told their story in full, they started happily cramming their mouths with more food. I looked around the room and every one of us adults had the same shocked look of disbelief on our faces.
After we all ate our fill of good, honest, homey food, we asked the kids if they wanted to stay the night; they could camp out in the little room off the kitchen. They politely declined saying that they already had plans. When I cocked an eyebrow at Morgan, she smiled slyly at me. I gave her a hug, said thank you, and we set up our next appointment for our morning ice cream.
After the Irregulars departed, we adults arranged ourselves in a circle around the fire, all holding our cups of hot coffee. I sat on the floor in front of Finn, Ripley lying next to me as I rubbed his sides and soft head, playing with his pointy ears. Finn occasionally stroked my hair, letting it slip through his fingers. It felt sweet and comforting.
Roarke started the conversation we were dying to get to. “So, how did we all end up at the house?”
I spoke up first. “I got a message from Finn asking to meet me down there.”
Finn said, “I got a message from Lane asking me to meet there.”
Evelyn asked, “But you didn’t write them? Do you think Eliza could copy your handwriting?”
I nodded. “She knows what my writing looks like and she copied Roxy’s perfectly once. There’s no doubt that she was capable. I’m sure Finn’s wasn’t exact, but she was careful to keep the note very short, so I didn’t think for a second that it wasn’t from him. With him being undercover at the moment, I was just happy to have a time to meet.”
“Same here,” said Finn. “But how did you and Roarke get there?” he asked Val.
“I called him,” replied Val. “Something just didn’t seem right. And here we’d been waiting for something to happen—it just seemed fishy. So I thought we should try to follow you. I would have just said something right to you, Lane, but you had gone already by the time I decided that we needed to do something. I knew where you were going because you told me earlier.”
“Fio, what about you?” I asked.
“I got a message from you, Lane, that asked me to meet you there, too,” he said. No wonder he’d been winking at me conspiratorially all day.
I summed it up as I thought out loud, “So other than Roarke and Val, who were smarter than the rest of us . . . we were all supposed to be there. It looks like Eliza was going to take out whoever was supposed to be in the shack; certainly, she supposed that was going to be me and Finn. But someone else obviously put the car bomb in place, I’m thinking to take out as many of us as possible. But it was also meant for Eliza. It was mostly meant for Eliza. And she definitely didn’t know Tucker was there.”
Mr. Kirkland gruffly spoke up for the first time, “Seems to me . . . Donagan was getting his competition out of the way.”
Roarke added, “And now he can do whatever he needs to do, using that pawn he’s been working so hard to get his hands on.”
“But he didn’t really get Tucker and Eliza out of his way, now did he?” I said.
“He might not know that,” said Evelyn, her chin resting in her hand.
“Well, he certainly made two vicious enemies. A woman scorned . . .” I said with an appreciative whistle.
“Tucker might not make it, by the looks of how she shredded that house,” said Finn.
“He was well enough to stagger outside,” said Kirkland. “That crew doesn’t go down easy.”
“Hmph,” said Evelyn and Finn at the same time.
After a long pause where I imagine we were all reflecting on the spectacular events, Aunt Evelyn started making sounds of the evening coming to an end.
“Uh, well, Aunt Evelyn, I think we need to talk about one more thing. Seeing that Donagan is going to be making some sort of move, there are a few loose ends that need tying up.”
“Well, dear, I don’t know that we have anything new . . .” said Aunt Evelyn with a yawn.
I tur
ned back to Finn and tapped him on the knee. “You ready?”
“Yup,” he said, getting up and gingerly helping me to my feet.
“We’ll be right back,” I said. Fio started to splutter and wave his arms about. I winked at him and said, “Relax, we’ll be just a minute.”
Finn and I got our coats on and went outside walking hand in hand to the end of the street where Lexington picked up.
“You really feeling all right, Lane? How’s your side?” asked Finn, putting his arm around my shoulders.
“Oh yes, merely a scratch,” I said, chuckling, then wincing. “Well, it’s a bit more than a scratch, actually,” I murmured, carefully touching my side. “I wonder what Donagan’s going to do now. And if it will have ramifications for us.”
“Well, I think he really couldn’t care less about us as far as his business and his money are concerned. We never had a stake in his legacy. I think we were thrown into the scene tonight to draw Eliza in and hey, if we got killed along with them, the more the merrier,” he said darkly.
“True. But I can’t help wanting him to get his just desserts. He makes my skin crawl. When he came at me—”
“He came at you?” he asked sharply.
“That night when they grabbed me and Fio. But Morgan and her friends disrupted his plans. He is an evil man, Finn.”
“Yeah, he is.” He stopped and turned toward me. “We’ll take care of him. Somehow.” He kissed my forehead. I saw the vendor for roasted peanuts and hot coffee up ahead on the corner.
I smiled up at Finn and nodded. “Wanna get a cup of coffee?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
We went up to the smiling vendor, chattering away with a young couple who had been heading down Lexington. He handed them their bag of peanuts and then turned to us as the couple walked away.
In a heavy Cockney accent he asked, “Now, what can oy get you loverly folks tonoyt?”
Finn took out his gun, leveled it at him, and said, “You’re going to come with us. Right now.”
CHAPTER 64
We entered our house with me leading the way, then the vendor, then Finn bringing up the rear, gun still drawn. We trooped into the parlor and as our group took in our grand entrance, I got the pleasure of seeing their shocked faces all at once. They scrambled to their feet, Kirkland and Roarke bracing themselves.
Even Fio was shocked into silence. For once. It was so gratifying.
I cleared my throat and said, “We found someone we think can help us answer questions. A lot of questions.” I turned to the vendor, who had turned a deep shade of crimson. “You can put your hands down now.” Finn put his gun away as he laughed to himself. I turned to the group and said, “I’d like you all to meet . . . Mr. Hambro.”
They all sat down with an exhausted whoosh. Evelyn said an appropriate, “Good Lord.”
Fio finally found his voice. “Finn! What was the gun all about?”
Finn, taking a rare pleasure, said, “Oh, I was just messing with him. And you.” At that Kirkland emitted a growl of a laugh, startling Ripley from his spot where he had just hunkered down.
I looked at Mr. Hambro and decided to have mercy on him. I got up and poured him a good tumbler of whiskey, took him by the arm, and led him over to a chair by the fire. “Come on, Man of a Thousand Faces . . .” I said with a soft laugh. “Take a load off.” At which he did. He sat down with a grateful glance at the deep amber liquid I had handed him. He had such a weary look of a burdensome weight being finally lifted off his shoulders, that I felt a little sheepish that Finn and I had scared him so soundly.
I smiled kindly at him. “Mr. Hambro, we want to hear your whole story, but I, uh . . . I’m sorry if Finn and I . . .”
He looked up at me then, eyes bright and mouth twitching. “Are you kidding me? You scared the shit out of me! Oops, sorry for the language, Evelyn. But that was the biggest surprise I’ve had in years!” He started to laugh long and hard and I was a tiny bit concerned that he had gone off the deep end. I looked over at Fio, who had by now fully recovered, and he was laughing and shaking so hard that he was wiping the tears from his eyes.
When Fio managed to stop laughing, he said, “I’ve never seen you so scared, Hambro. That look on your face was priceless!”
“All right, you two,” said Aunt Evelyn, with a shake of her head like a half-amused, half-disgusted parent at finding her two little boys had been up to no good. “Get on with it.”
The mayor of New York City and the president of one of the most distinguished banks in the country finally collected themselves enough, after much wiping of eyes and nudging of elbows at each other, to tell us the story.
Mr. Hambro now sat upright and cleared his throat, looking all of a sudden like the formidable businessman that he was despite his pauper’s clothing. He took a deep breath and a drink, preparing his thoughts for a moment. “Well, as you know, this all started when I received one red envelope at home, then another at the bank just before I disappeared. Those envelopes had a threatening message in it, telling me that the Red Scroll was back, that they were watching. Back in the day, Rex Ruby used to send those out to a variety of people and they only conveyed one of two messages: Either he wanted your cooperation in a business matter, or it was probably your last day on earth.”
Kirkland spoke up, “Yeah, and I hadn’t seen one since we were working in the war.”
“I know. Me too,” said Hambro. “That’s why I felt the need to disappear and discover what was really going on. I knew Rex had been killed, and I also felt that the message didn’t have the same . . . feel that his had. I figured something was going on with someone trying to take his place. But I was also worried about my wife. I figured if he thought I was gone, he might leave her alone. At least it would give me time to figure out what was going on.”
“Did your wife know?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t tell her. But I decided to leave her a message of sorts. I didn’t want to tell her outright where I was, I didn’t want to make her more of a target, but I needed her to know I was all right. I put a bag of chestnuts and a hot chocolate on her doorstep two days in a row. She knows I hate chestnuts and we have this ongoing joke about it . . . I try them every year, thinking that maybe one day I’ll like them. I never do. I hoped it would work.” A look of pained frustration raced across his face. Their relationship was a deep, sweet friendship. You didn’t see that kind of marriage often enough.
“She did know you were all right. It worked,” I said encouragingly. “When Roarke and I visited her a second time, she didn’t know where you were, but there was something different about her. I knew something had happened; she knew something. But at the same time, it also seemed like she wasn’t lying: she hadn’t really heard from you or seen you. But she was . . . hopeful,” I said, groping for words.
He smiled and took a deep breath. To get back on track I asked, “So who do you think sent the red envelopes?”
“I thought it had to be someone who used to be involved with the Red Scroll Network. But those people were few and far between. With Rex’s death, then Rutherford’s . . . not to mention I’d never really known who this heir was supposed to be . . .”
“Hold on, did you know Rutherford Franco?” asked a perplexed Kirkland.
Mr. Hambro took a thoughtful, slow swig of his whiskey. He tilted his head as he considered. Then he slowly brought a hand up to his face and began peeling away a small sliver of extra eyebrow hair, first the left, then the right. “Well . . . let me tell you what I know.”
I looked at Mr. Kirkland, who looked surprised and maybe miffed. I had been wondering about what he knew and what he wasn’t telling me. He and my father had been thick as thieves, but it seemed my dad had kept some things back from him.
As Hambro’s story slowly played out, he meticulously removed different parts of his disguise. The remarkable thing was that each little piece was hardly anything in and of itself, just a sliver of hair or an edging of skin-toned putty. But when
applied to the right part of the face, at the precise angle that would hinder recognition of a particularly identifiable expression, it was like a new person was emerging to sit with us in our circle, a person familiar and warm with remembered friendship. His hands were slow, careful, and pleasing to watch.
His resonant, calm voice filled the room. “Yes, I knew Rutherford. Lane, your father and I had a . . . business relationship. One that turned into a friendship. Of sorts.”
Mr. Kirkland emitted a soft, “Grrr.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” I said quietly, encouraging him with a sympathetic smile.
Mr. Hambro continued, “Back in the Twenties, after the war and after he and Charlotte moved to Michigan, a few of those red envelopes turned up. I hadn’t known about the Red Scroll group, but I had heard rumors of a gang rising in the ranks here in New York. I got an envelope from Rex offering to make a business alliance. I don’t mind saying that scared the shit out of me. Er . . . sorry again.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like every way I turned there was another corrupt official. I had hardly been sleeping at all for days on end, there just wasn’t anyone I could trust. Then one day I had an appointment at the bank, someone who asked for a personal conference with me. It was your father, Lane, Matthew Lorian.
“I was unsure of him at first, but then I began to trust him as we talked. He had a hardness about him that showed he was quite a capable man, but he was also kind. I’ve been bamboozled before, but I would have bet everything I had that I could trust him. He told me that there had been a few red envelopes handed out to leading businessmen around the city. I couldn’t believe he knew what was going on and that he’d found out about my envelope. But it was such a relief to be able to talk to somebody about it.”
He paused to take another drink and consider his next words. I looked at the small ball of detritus left from his disguise, hardly bigger than a walnut. Hard to imagine that something so small could transform someone, making them unrecognizable. Well, almost.
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