The Holver Alley Crew

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Right,” Asti said, “but without anyone knowing we have. That’s the key. We can’t just drug him or get him drunk, you know?”

  Cort’s eyebrow went up. “Maybe we could.”

  “No, it’s too obvious.”

  Cort raised a skinny finger, almost bringing it to Asti’s lips, as if to shush him. “Not if the drug doesn’t affect him in a way anyone notices. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Asti said.

  “Not tonight he won’t!” Helene called out.

  “Sweet saints, woman!”

  “Real shame, too,” Helene said as she came out from the stables. “The one time he’s got a girl who looks this good.” Asti stopped short when she came into view, and every other man in the stable stood agape. Her purple dress hung off her shoulders, exposing pale skin down to her ample cleavage. The side of the dress and the petticoats were slit up the side, showing off her bare leg with each step.

  Asti had no idea Helene could look like that.

  “Blazes,” muttered Cort. “She is a woman.”

  “Damn right,” she said. “Verci, lend me a few darts to hide in my décolletage. I feel positively naked without any weapons.” She clearly shot that one word at Asti, and her aim was as true as with a crossbow. Where was this coming from? As long as Asti had known her, she had made hot eyes at his brother, but suddenly she was giving him everything. Of course, it was only because of his predicament with Cort’s potion. Once it wore off, she’d surely be back to normal.

  “You’re just cruel, Hel.” Verci laughed as he gave her the darts.

  “You laugh now, Verci,” Asti said. “You’re the one who’s gonna trudge the sewers with Cort tracking my piss. You want to go with them, too, Hel?”

  “You won’t make me, Asti,” she said walking up to him. Patting his cheek she added, “Since you’ve got such a soft spot for me.” Damn her. Still, it was good to see her acting light and making jokes, even at his expense. If it made her happy for this gig, he’d take every jibe she threw.

  “Kennith, hitch up the blasted carriage. Almer, suit up. And you’re wearing the hat.”

  “The hat is awful,” Almer said.

  “If I’m pissing blue honey, you can wear the blazing hat!” Asti shouted.

  “Fine, I’ll wear the hat.”

  Kennith put Verci’s sketches on his workbench as he went back to the stables. “That might be something that could work,” he said to Verci. “I’ll see if I can hammer something together from the design.”

  “Well,” Helene whispered to Asti, “at least someone will be hammering tonight.”

  This was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 20

  CORT’S CHEMICAL WAS CHURNING in Asti’s gut as the carriage approached the Emporium. The feeling was not unlike having swallowed a frog. He obviously wasn’t doing a good job masking it.

  “You all right, Asti?” Raych asked. She looked splendid in the dress, Asti had to admit. Raych was a fine-looking woman, any man would think so, though he never could quite parse what it was Verci saw in her beyond that. Not that he had had the chance to ask his brother at the time. When he had first met Raych, Verci had already married her.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Just something he drank,” Helene added.

  Raych looked at the three of them, then looked like she’d decided not to ask anything else.

  The carriage came to a stop, and moments later the door was opened by a large man. Asti recognized him as one of the regular front gate guards at the Emporium.

  “Good evening, gentlemen, ladies,” he said in a distinguished tone that didn’t match the westtown accent. “Welcome to the Emporium.” He extended a hand to Raych, who took it gracefully as he helped her step out of the carriage.

  “Thank you,” she said demurely. The valet offered the same assistance to Helene, and then stepped back to allow Verci and Asti to exit the carriage. Asti took a quick glance around. The massive doors were open just enough to allow single-file entrance. Down at the corner, in front of the back alleyway, he saw Mila sitting on the walkway, wrapped in a ratty blanket, blending in with the other hatshakers.

  “Round back that way,” the guard told Cort up in the driver’s seat. “There’s a carriage house, and the other drivers. Cards, stew, and cider ’til you’re called.”

  “Wonderful,” Cort said. He tipped the driver hat at Asti. “Until you call me, sir.”

  “Thank you, driver,” Asti replied.

  “If you will enter here to the coatroom.” The guard indicated the open doorway. “Enjoy your visit to the Emporium.”

  “Thank you,” Asti said, offering a coin to the guard.

  “I must decline,” the guard said. “But I thank you for the thought.”

  They passed into the coatroom, richly furnished with green velvet and dark oak chairs, and several mahogany wardrobes with gold trim and ivory fixtures. Verci let out a low whistle.

  “What you figure?” he whispered to Asti. “Those are an easy hundred crowns each. Just in the front room.”

  “Valet doesn’t even take a tip,” Asti whispered back. “Well-bought loyalty here.”

  A man and a woman worked the coatroom, both dressed in simple elegance. Presentable, but nothing that would outshine the clients, Asti thought.

  “Good evening,” the man said. “Your pleasure tonight would be?”

  “What are our choices?” Asti asked.

  “Ah,” the man said. “Your first time?”

  “Yes,” Asti said, “so what can we—”

  The woman interrupted him, her voice as sweet as honey. “Then tonight your pleasure would be the dining room.”

  “Of course,” Asti said. “But there are other—”

  “Perhaps after you visit the dining room,” the gentleman offered, “further membership options can be discussed.”

  “Wonderful,” Asti said, putting on his best fake smile. “I’d be thrilled to discuss it. Then the dining room for the four of us, please.”

  “Certainly,” the woman said. “Your coats and wraps, please, and we can proceed.”

  “Of course,” Verci said, taking off his coat and handing it to the man. The man took it, and with a light and casual motion, he gave Verci’s suit a light swipe, as if removing lint or dust. He did the same to Asti, and Asti understood—the man was checking for weapons, if ever so discreetly. He had found none, but only due to the cursory nature of his search. Asti had two knives in his boots, and he knew Helene had hidden a couple darts in her bodice. The woman found nothing on her search of Helene or Raych.

  “Very good,” said the man. “This way, please.” He led them through a heavy velvet curtain into a large room filled with candlelit tables. Most of the tables had couples or groups, all finely dressed, most of whom barely looked up to acknowledge Asti and the rest passing through. Asti recognized several faces by reputation, including two Constabulary District Chiefs, a City Alderman, and a Member of Parliament. The last, he also noted, was definitely not with his wife.

  “Is there a problem, sir?” the man asked Verci. Asti noted that his brother had stopped and tapped the floor with his foot.

  “Sorry, no,” Verci said. “My shoe was loose for a moment there. I think I’ve fixed it.”

  “Very good, sir.” The man took them to a table in a back corner, where they were mostly out of sight of the rest of the patrons. Asti realized this was probably meant as a slight, but the seating suited him just fine. He could see the whole room, be ignored, and sit with his back to a wall. No one would sneak up on him. That was good.

  “Your server will be with you in a moment,” the man said. “Perhaps you would like to start with wine, or something else?” The man let the words hang there, like a challenge.

  Asti was about to speak when Raych answered the server, her voice a solid punch of
confidence and nerve. “Bring us a bottle of Nitella Red, nothing younger than 1209.”

  “Yes, of course, miss. I will return shortly.”

  As soon as he was gone, Raych let out a heavy breath. “Verci, I really hope this plan pays off, because I just ordered a forty-crown bottle of wine, I think.”

  “Excellently done, Raych,” Asti said. “It lets us play the role of contenders without being too ostentatious.”

  “How is a forty-crown bottle of wine not ostentatious?” Raych asked.

  “For most of these people, that’s a small token, the least one should pay for quality wine,” Verci said.

  “Our whole meal will likely cost on the order of two hundred crowns,” Asti said.

  “That’s a lot of outlay for a scout job,” Helene said.

  “Can’t be helped.” Asti looked around. “A lot of coin does come through here.”

  “Good thing we have a backer on this,” Verci said.

  “What was that about memberships and other options?” Raych asked.

  “There’re many other choices of depravity here,” Asti said. “Girls for hire, boys for hire, a wide gambling floor. Above us, I think.”

  “Above?” Verci said. “Oh, no, brother. The gambling floor is definitely below.”

  “You noticed something when you fixed your shoe?”

  Verci nodded. “Large hollow space beneath us. Buzzing with activity.”

  “You’d think they’d muffle it somehow.”

  “I think there’s a layer of cork in the floor,” Verci said. “But there’s a lot of people.”

  “Is this going to be shop talk all night?” Raych asked.

  Helene grinned. “Probably so.”

  “Hush it, Helene,” Asti said. “Keep your eyes open for people going downstairs.”

  “As you say, boss.”

  “You really call him boss?” Raych asked.

  “Only because it annoys him.”

  “That’s fine.” Raych smiled. “Waiter approaching.”

  As Raych had noted, the waiter came over with a bottle of wine. With a nod and polite greeting, he opened the bottle and poured out a sample for Asti. He waited patiently, expectantly, until Asti remembered the protocol and tasted the wine.

  It was explosively excellent. He wasn’t prepared for that.

  “Quite good,” he told the waiter.

  The waiter nodded and filled the other glasses. “Very well, sir. If I may tell you about tonight’s menu?”

  “Please,” Raych answered, her eyes glowing with anticipation.

  “Our chef, as you may know, is one of the finest of the great archduchy of Linjar, brought up special from Yoleanne by Mister Tyne.”

  “Of course,” Asti said. He had to fight down the angry growl that wanted to be released at the mention of Tyne’s name.

  “So the menu is representative of his specialties. We have a dedicated fleet of fishing ships bringing in fresh catches of sea bass, oysters, and shrimp daily. Any fish you eat tonight was swimming in the Avolic Ocean yesterday morning.”

  “Impressive,” Raych said coolly. “You have shrimp?”

  “Yes, madam. Sautéed in a traditional Linjari-style red pepper sauce, served over rice with simmered spinach and beet greens.”

  “Well, I don’t need to hear anything else,” Raych said.

  “Excellent,” said the waiter. “The sea bass is also fresh, grilled with vegetables and Linjari rice.”

  “You mentioned oysters,” Asti said.

  “Yes, sir, as a starter course, we have broiled oysters, served to the whole table.”

  “That sounds excellent,” Helene said. “And the sea bass for me.”

  “What else is there?” Verci asked, “Perhaps in the area of fowl or game?”

  “There is both pheasant and rabbit, succulently roasted—”

  “Rabbit,” Verci said quickly.

  “Pheasant,” Asti added.

  “Very good, sirs,” the waiter said. “We hope you enjoy everything here at Tyne’s Pleasure Emporium.” He walked away.

  “Well, this should be very interesting,” Raych said.

  “Our work does seem to have some perks, love,” Verci said.

  “One or two, it seems.” Raych smiled and sipped at the wine.

  “This is work, though,” Asti said. “Eyes sharp, eh?”

  “Eyes sharp,” Verci returned. “How tall is the building?”

  “I figured eight stories,” Asti said. “I’m starting to think a lot of that space is employee barracks. Quarters for all the people working for Tyne.”

  Verci glanced about. “Possibly. What leads you to that?”

  “I watched the place for a few days straight, and I’ve got Mila on the back alley. I didn’t see a lot of the kind of movement in and out that you’d expect for a place with this much activity. I see two score servants and waiters just on the floor here. Then there’s the kitchen, which would have to have as many. The gambling floor, as we’ve heard. Not to mention—”

  “The whores,” Helene said.

  “Yes, exactly,” Asti said. He turned to her. “In fact, you hear plenty about how Tyne has a wide variety of women.”

  “Foreign and exotic,” Verci added. Raych glared at him, and he shrunk away. “It’s what I hear.”

  “But where are they?” Asti asked, half to himself. They weren’t evident in the dining room, nor had he seen any sign of them coming in and out. If they existed, they had to live at the Emporium all the time. Same with Tyne, whom he had yet to see.

  Verci leaned forward. “We need to get a better look around. What are the goals?”

  “Coin, frankly,” Asti said, shaking off his earlier thoughts. “I couldn’t care less about who lives here and does what. A lot of money comes in here and apparently stays here.” If Tyne had sent large sums of cash out the door, Asti had seen no signs of that, either.

  “Where do you think?”

  “Best guess, if the gambling floor is below us, that’s where the big money is moving. It goes down there and stays down there.”

  “Safe?”

  “Vault,” Asti said.

  “Fair enough,” Verci said. “How do we size up the underground?”

  “You and Cort are going to trace the sewers, for one,” Asti said. “We need to figure out how to get to the gambling floor.”

  “Membership,” Helene said. “How do we get one?”

  “That I don’t know,” Asti said.

  “Air flues,” Verci said absently.

  “Air what?” Asti asked.

  “There’re no windows on the outside, right? And a fair bit of space below ground, which we figure has plenty of people going in and out. Plenty of people need to breathe. They need to see, so that means oil lamps. Blazes, look.” He pointed to the candles burning in chandeliers above them. “Fire needs to breathe, too.”

  “So fresh air has to get in there somehow.” Asti nodded. “That a way in?”

  “Probably not,” Verci said. “You’d have to be pretty foolish to build flues big enough for a man to crawl through.”

  “So what good is it?”

  “If they aren’t big, then there has to be a lot of them,” Verci said. He looked around the dining room and casually pointed at a part of the wall. “See, they cover it with a pretty silver grate, but there’s one of them there.”

  “I don’t get what he’s talking about,” Helene said.

  “Flues and chimneys draw bad air out of the gambling floor,” Raych said.

  “Yes, I understand that, Raych,” Helene said. “How does that help?”

  “You obviously never lived in a tenement house or above a shop floor,” Raych said.

  “No, just the house that Tyne burned down,” Helene snarled.

  “Ladies,” As
ti snapped.

  “It’s pretty simple,” Verci said. “There’s sure to be plenty of ventilation flues that lead down to the gambling floor, if that is indeed what’s below us. And where air flows, so does sound.”

  “Find a flue, press your ear to it,” Asti said, nodding. “We can hear what’s going on downstairs.”

  “Might be nothing,” Verci said. “But it would at least confirm what’s below us.”

  Asti stood up. “I guess now I’ll do my part.”

  “Water closet?” Verci asked.

  “Water closet,” Asti said with a grimace. “I’m not looking forward to this.”

  Asti walked off across the dining room floor. His insides were churning, even burning, making it rather difficult to focus his attention on anything else. Searching for a water closet gave him a good excuse to innocently walk through wrong doors, stick his nose places he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t even have to lie, since he didn’t know where the water closet was.

  What he didn’t want was for a server to ask him what he needed because then they would direct him to the water closet. So he went to a curtained corridor in the back of the dining room with a fast, confident stride. Anyone glancing at him would see a man who knew exactly where he was going and how to get there. If caught, he’d just have to play the part of a man certain that this was where the water closet was and too arrogant to ask anyone for confirmation.

  The servants here probably had ten men like that a night.

  No one stopped him on his path to the curtain, leading Asti to think that perhaps, indeed, this was just the way to the water closet. The corridor had several doors, all of them rather ordinary looking. He took this to mean that he was someplace he wasn’t supposed to be, which was exactly where he wanted to be.

  He tried one door. Locked. The next door was as well. He walked briskly down the hall, trying each door briefly without slowing down. Locked, locked, locked, unlocked. He opened that and peered inside. Shelves of clean linens, servant uniforms. No flues, grates, or pipes. He shut the door and moved on.

  The next door was unlocked. This was a laundress pressroom, with drying racks and stoves for heating the presses. The room was quiet and cool at the moment, but there were plenty of pipes lining the wall. He grabbed a candle off the wall and slipped inside.