by Nerys Leigh
As they prepared to leave their suite, Tobias fetched the second revolver he’d brought with him from his bag. He hoped Clara would never have to fire it, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asked as he handed it to her butt first.
She answered his question by opening the barrel and removing and then replacing the rounds in a series of moves so fast her hands were almost a blur. Finally, she presented the butt back to him, a smirk twitching at her lips.
His jaw closed with an audible snap. “You keep it. I suppose you paid a gunsmith to teach you that.”
“Didn’t have to. I caught a local magician and shootist stealing secrets from another magician. In exchange for convincing the other magician to accept payment rather than get him arrested, he taught me everything he knew about firearms. Now, every time he gets a new gun, I get a new lesson. And this model is brand new."
In a final burst of dexterity, the gun disappeared into her dress like a rabbit returning to its magic hat. Smoothing her skirt, she asked, "Do you have one?"
He pushed aside his jacket to reveal the matching Smith & Wesson Model Three tucked into his belt. “I hope we don’t have to use them though. This is just a precaution.”
When they left the hotel, the same cab driver who had been brave enough to take them into Five Points the previous day was waiting for business. Tobias sent up a prayer of thanks. He wanted someone who would get Clara to safety, if the need arose.
“Stop worrying,” she said, after he didn’t say a word for the first ten minutes of their journey.
“I’m not worried.” It was a lie. He’d spent the entire time praying for her safety.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to be good at reading people to know you are.”
“Just promise me…”
“I know.” She took his hand. “I’ll do my best to stay out of danger.”
“And?”
“And I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”
He nodded, only slightly reassured. His wife had a mind of her own and he suspected she’d do whatever the circumstances called for, whether he agreed to it or not.
His wife.
He suddenly realized that was the first time he’d truly thought of her that way. He also knew that the word wife meant something to him now. Something he didn’t want to lose.
Tightening his hand around hers, he resumed his silent petition for her safety.
~ ~ ~
They left the cab a street over, with strict instructions to the driver to wait for them along with a promise of extra payment if he did.
The area was relatively quiet, mostly residential, with few people on the streets at this time of day. A sign on the wall in front of the place they’d come to see read, M.R. Paisley, Cabinet Maker, plain & rich furniture of all descriptions made to order, with an arrow pointing to the side of the building.
Tobias knew immediately it was the right place.
They strolled past and turned the first corner they came to, two doors down.
“That’s it,” he said, bringing Clara to a halt.
She glanced back in the direction of the building, even though they couldn’t see it now. “How do you know?”
“Because cabinet makers don’t usually have armed guards.”
“That man with the pipe, leaning against the wall at the side,” she said immediately. “He was trying to appear relaxed, but he was watching everyone on the street. How do you know he was armed?”
Tobias was impressed. He hadn’t noticed that the man was watching people. All he’d seen was the shape of the gun beneath his jacket and the lack of smoke coming from his pipe.
“There was a bulge at his waist. A very distinctive bulge.”
“So are we going to try to get inside and look around?”
He’d been thinking about that. They couldn’t go back to the police without some kind of proof, and a man with a gun not smoking a pipe was hardly compelling evidence that something was going on.
“I’m going to try to get inside,” he said. “You’re going to stay here.”
She opened her mouth.
“No,” he said, before she could argue. “You promised to do what I said, and this is a direct order. You will not go into that building, is that clear?”
Her eyebrows rose. “A direct order?”
He almost never gave orders, to anyone. He preferred to just keep his head down and deal with the things he could control, which never included human beings. But he was not going to put Clara in danger.
He took hold of her hands, looking her straight in the eye. “Yes, a direct order. You will stay here. And if I’m not back within twenty minutes, get back to the cab, go to the station, and tell Captain Perkins what’s happened. Do you understand?” When she didn’t answer, he moved his hands to her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll do what I say. If you don’t, we’re leaving right now. I will not put you in danger.”
She pressed her lips together, her gaze lowering, and he had the strongest urge to draw her into his arms and hold her there.
And then she nodded, lifting her eyes to his again. “Please be careful.”
“I will. But you have to stay here.”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve told me that.”
He smiled. “I’m just making sure it’s clear.”
Resting her hands on his chest, she pushed up onto her toes and kissed his cheek.
“Come back to me safely, Toby,” she whispered into his ear before stepping away.
Now he really wanted to pull her into his arms.
He swallowed, nodded, said “Tobias” out of slightly flustered habit, and headed around the corner.
Not even the entire Hatmaker gang was going to stop him from getting back to her.
~ ~ ~
With the guard watching the front of the building, there was no way Tobias was getting in that way unseen. There was a narrow alleyway between the next two buildings along, however, and he headed down it, hoping to find a way through.
As New York’s population grew and demand for places to live intensified, buildings were often haphazardly constructed around and between, and occasionally on top of, each other, creating a maze of interconnecting alleyways and backyards behind the main roads. It could be a nightmare for a policeman pursuing a suspect, often enabling their quarry to seemingly vanish into thin air. It had happened to Tobias more than once.
But this time, those labyrinthine back passageways were in his favor.
Making his way along the alley and through a tiny courtyard behind the building next door, he came to a back door into M. R. Paisley’s workshop, this one with no guard. It was locked, but he made short work of that with his set of lock picks. Clara wasn’t the only one with that particular skill.
He entered a small ante-room containing a row of cupboards and nothing else. All was in silence, strange for what was meant to be a furniture-making business and should have been filled with the sound of saws and hammers.
He crept to a door in the wall opposite him, opened it a fraction, and peered out.
A large, open room greeted him, dimly lit by windows on the far wall facing the side of the next building. At one time, not too far in the past, going by the sawdust still scattered over the floor, it would have been a bustling business. Now all was empty and silent, although all the tools and paraphernalia of a woodworking business remained, including a few half-finished items of furniture. There was something eerie about it, as if the carpenters had suddenly just upped and left in the middle of their work.
Two closed doors stood to Tobias’ right, towards the back of the building. He crept to the first and pressed his ear to the surface. Hearing nothing, he opened it quietly. The room beyond was an office, with a desk and shelves of paperwork and books. No people.
He closed the door and moved to the next one. Again he listened but heard nothing. When he pushed open the door, he found three chairs. On one of the chairs sat a man, bound
and gagged.
Clive Loomis.
Loomis’ eyes widened as Tobias slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. Shaking his head frantically, he made indecipherable noises from behind the rag over his mouth. One eye was swollen shut and purple bruising covered both cheeks.
Tobias held up his palms in an attempt to stop the man’s noise. “Shhh, be quiet. I’m here to rescue you.”
Loomis frowned, clearly not convinced. Although he did quieten.
Tobias pulled the gag from his mouth. “Is anyone else here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone for the last couple of hours. I’ve been stuck here since last night. Who are you?”
“Pinkerton agent.”
Loomis stiffened, apparently more disturbed by that revelation than when he’d thought Tobias was one of his captors. “What’s a Pink doing here?”
“It’s a long story.” He moved behind him to deal with the ropes binding him to the chair. “First, I need to get you out of here.”
The door opened and a man stepped in.
He stopped, gaping at Tobias.
Tobias lunged forward, slamming him into the doorframe before he could free the gun at his waist and driving his fist into his solar plexus.
The man doubled over with a grunt. Any normal person would have dropped to the floor. This man didn’t.
Without a care for the fact that he could no longer breathe, he charged forward, barreling into Tobias. All the air left his lungs as he crashed to the floor, the man landing on top of him. He pushed sideways and his adversary rolled away, coughing as he tried to regain his feet.
Still on the floor, Tobias swept one foot around to tangle in his legs and the man went down again.
Tobias scrambled to his feet, reaching back for the gun in his belt.
A second man appeared in the open doorway, a pistol in his hand. “Stop!”
Tobias looked around, frantically searching for an escape. But there was no way out. The moment he tried anything, he would be shot.
Standing up straight, he raised both hands in surrender.
And hoped desperately that Clara would do what she was told and go to Captain Perkins.
Chapter Nineteen
Clara checked her pocket watch for the ninth time in the past two minutes.
Twenty-five minutes since Toby had left her.
Pressing her lips together against the fear bubbling up within her, she resumed pacing back and forth.
She should be on her way back to the cab right now. She’d made Toby a promise.
“What should I do, Lord?” she prayed, not for the first time.
She couldn’t bring herself to leave. It would take her far too long to get the police there. That was if she could even persuade them to come back with her at all. She had a long history of authorities not taking her seriously; why would that change now?
Although she was fairly certain Captain Perkins would come to save the man who had saved him eight years ago. But it would still take more than half an hour to get him back here. Toby could be dead by then.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen. If Toby died, her heart would die with him.
Making her decision, she snapped the watch shut, pushed it back into her pocket, and headed around the corner to find her husband.
She approached the cabinet maker’s workshop nervously, unsure how she would get past the guard, but when she peeked around the wall of the building next door, he was gone.
Deciding to take that as provision from God and a sign she was doing the right thing, she hurried past the main door towards the rear of the building, in search of a back way to sneak in. She quickly found a smaller entrance and was surprised to find it unlocked. Perhaps it was the way Toby had gained entry.
Emboldened by the hope she would find him inside, she slipped into a small room. She crept to a door in the far wall that had been left ajar.
At a man’s voice in the room beyond, she froze.
“We should kill him now.”
“Not until Marv gets here,” another man replied. “He’ll know what to do with him.”
“But he’s a Pink. They’re worse than the coppers. I think we should just get rid of him now.”
“He’s not going anywhere. Just get back out the front and do your job.”
The first man grunted. “Fine, but if anything happens, it’s on you.”
Clara heard footsteps and for a brief, terrified moment she thought they were headed in her direction and she’d be caught. But they faded, along with the man’s grumbling, and a door opened and closed towards the front of the building.
Another set of footsteps headed towards the back and a door opened. The second voice she’d heard spoke again, farther away this time.
“I’m going to ask you again, what are you doing here?”
“I told you, I was looking for him.”
Clara’s heart leapt at the sound of Toby’s voice. He was here, and he was alive.
Now all she had to do was get him out.
She dared to creep closer and peer through the gap between the door and the frame. There was no one in the workshop beyond. Holding her breath, she pushed the door open a little more and slipped through.
“See, the problem with that answer is, I don’t believe you.”
The voice came from an open door across the room to her right. Although she couldn’t see him from where she was, she knew Toby had to be in there.
Keeping against the wall so she wouldn’t be seen, Clara tiptoed towards the open door.
“Whether you believe me or not,” Toby said, “it’s the truth.”
Halfway there, she came to a selection of wooden planks leaning against the wall. She picked one up.
If she used her gun, the other man she’d heard, plus anyone else in the building, would come running. A plank, however, would be much quieter. She hoped.
“Then it looks like I’m going to have to get answers from you the hard way. You being Pinkerton scum, I can’t say as I’m unhappy about that.”
Clara reached the doorway and peered around the frame.
Tobias sat in the center of the small room, his arms and legs bound to the chair beneath him. Beside him, another man sat similarly bound. Clara recognized Clive Loomis from Toby’s sketch.
In front of them, with his back to her, a man leaned over Toby, the tip of a knife pressed to his cheek. Blood welled around the point.
Anger flashed white hot through Clara’s chest. No one got to hurt her husband.
Darting into the room, she raised the plank and swung with all her strength. It struck the man’s shoulder.
He staggered to the side and whirled to face her, managing a “What the…” before she swung again.
His hastily raised arm wasn’t enough to deflect the blow as the plank smashed into the side of his head. He collapsed to the floor and didn’t move.
Toby gaped up at her. A trickle of blood threaded its way down his cheek from where the knife had penetrated his skin. “I told you to get back to the cab if I was late. You promised!”
She dropped the plank and hurried to free him. “We can discuss it later. Right now, we need to get out of here.”
The knots on the ropes tying him to the chair proved too tight to pull apart. She grabbed the unconscious man’s knife and sawed at the bindings, all the while expecting more of the gang to burst in on them.
“Get Loomis,” Toby said once his hands were free, leaning over to tug at the ropes around his ankles.
She moved to Mr. Loomis’ chair and pushed the knife into the first knot.
“What on earth… Stop right there!”
Her heart hit her throat at the voice. She looked up to see the man who’d been guarding the front of the building standing in the doorway with a pistol aimed at her.
She glanced at Toby, hoping he’d been able to free himself, but the ropes were still tight around his ankles.
Slowly raising her hands, she straightened.
>
“Drop the knife,” the man ordered.
Stepping out from behind Mr. Loomis’ chair, she let the knife fall to the floor. Right beside Toby.
The man realized his mistake too late.
In a single motion, Toby snatched up the knife and hurled it.
It plunged into his right shoulder, the blade sinking into muscle.
Acting purely on instinct, Clara leaped forward, grabbing for the gun still in his hand as he staggered back against the wall with a grunt of pain. She wrenched it from his grasp and seized his left hand in the wrist lock Toby had taught her.
He stumbled to his knees, his right arm hanging useless at his side and the other clamped in her grip.
Releasing her hold on his hand, she shoved him onto his face and stepped back, pointing his own weapon at him. “These work better if you cock them first.”
Toby returned his attention to the ropes holding him on the chair. A few seconds later, he was at her side. She handed the pistol to him, not trusting her aim with the way her hands were now trembling.
“Are there any more?” she asked, looking through the open door to the deserted workshop beyond.
“Not that I’ve seen.”
She glanced back at the cowering Mr. Loomis.
“There were more earlier,” he said, “but they left. It’s just been these two for the past hour, but they mentioned the others coming back. Could you untie me?”
The man rolled onto his back and gave them a pain-filled glare. “You ain’t gonna get away with this. The Hatmakers will come after you and everyone you love. And it won’t be quick. We’ll cut you up and…”
The rest of his tirade was swallowed in a grunt of agony as Toby reached down to pull the knife from his shoulder.
He handed the gun back to Clara. “Keep this on him.”
Using the ropes that had tied him to the chair, he bound the hands and ankles of both men. To Clara’s relief, the man she’d struck was groaning as he came to. She didn’t want to have killed him.
