by Tony Masero
The man’s face split into an ugly grin, ‘Might find me a new place to put it you don’t do as I say. Now empty your pockets.’
Kirby had the open end of the alley to the street behind him; the four men were backed up against a dead end with a heap of tin garbage cans behind them. They were the cornered ones yet did not know it, relying as they were on their numbers.
Silently, they started to fan out and move towards him.
‘Bad move, boys,’ said Kirby, the Colt quickly in his hand.
‘Whoa!’ said sailor hat, at sight of the pistol. ‘Cowboy’s got a dinky tin gun.’
Kirby did not pause. He shot the man in the leg, just above the knee.
The shot was deafening in the enclosed area, its noise echoing off the grubby brick walls and bouncing backwards and forwards.
The other three were still coming on. One held a length of lead pipe in his hand and he had to go down next. Rotating fast, Kirby fanned the hammer and fired from the hip. The pipe-carrier took the slug high in the chest and it slammed him over backwards to crash into the garbage cans, Without hesitation, Kirby swung left and plugged one of the final two, blowing a hole in his arm. The last man made it to him and swung out with an old Navy-style sailor’s boarding cutlass. Kirby ducked as the blade sliced his bowler hat from his head.
The man slashed again and Kirby stepped sideways as the cutlass swished past and clipped stuffing from his shoulder padding. He brought his Colt around and shoved the barrel deep into the man’s belly. With a muffled pop, the gun went off and lifted the attacker off his feet and threw him into the air, the bullet exiting his back in a stream of blood and tissue that splashed across the alleyway.
Shouts and screams of agony were filling the alley and Kirby heard a wail behind him and turned to see a woman racing towards him, her eyes wide and staring and a meat cleaver held high in her fist. Grimly, Kirby downed her with a shot straight between the eyes. The hair bun tied on the back of the woman’s head lifted off with the brains inside and disappeared down the stretch of cobblestones as the woman keeled over and fell spread out like a starfish into the open drain.
That seemed to have put paid to any more opposition.
Kirby stepped over to sailor hat, who was writhing and moaning on the ground as he clutched at his ripped leg.
‘You bastard,’ he wailed. ‘You damned country asshole bastard.’
Kirby stood over him, holding the still smoking gun down by his side.
‘Where’s Teddy Flowers? Or Teddy Lobelia as his ma knew him.’
‘Go to hell,’ snarled the prone figure.
‘Okay,’ said Kirby coldly. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’ He stepped down hard on the wounded thigh, levering his boot heel over the bloody wound.
The man screamed piteously.
‘I got one more slug in this gun,’ Kirby said. ‘You want a matching pair of legs, I can oblige.’
‘He’ll be in the tavern,’ the man gasped quickly, beginning to tremble all over as the shock of the wound took hold. ‘The Black Hen. He always hangs out there.’
‘See? You dumb ass,’ said Kirby. ‘Easy ain’t it? Now why didn’t you do that at the beginning?’
He turned to the one other survivor, who wavered, dazed and clutching at his blood-dripping arm.
‘Best you see to yourself and your friend,’ he advised.
The man nodded dumbly, his blank gaze distant and void of recognition.
Kirby turned again to sailor hat, ‘Looks like your buddy ain’t really with us, pal. On that account I don’t give much for your chances of survival in this rat hole.’
Shelling out his empties, Kirby took his leave, reloading the pistol as he went.
He found The Black Hen a few streets beyond the alley, occupying a corner and at a junction of three roads. It was one of the brewing company Joseph Schlitz’s taverns and was built in a style more reminiscent of old Tudor England than its locality in a Chicago slum. With its black beams and small paned windows Kirby was half expecting to see a grandee of the old style in frock coat and stockings walk out.
Inside was dense with tobacco smoke and the gloomy interior lit solely by flaring candles. A crowd of noisy men were gathered in a crowd, they circled a central pit on the floor where a couple of fighting cocks were tearing at each other in a flurry of feathers and needle sharp spurs. Nobody noticed Kirby’s entrance as all eyes were fixed on the battling birds. Money changed hands in the overheated air as bets were made and the level of shouted encouragement was so loud that Kirby was hard put to have his question heard.
‘Teddy Flowers here?’ he asked, nudging one watcher in the back.
‘There, there,’ the man shouted distractedly pointing with a half chewed stogie over to one corner without turning to look at Kirby.
The man indicated stood leaning against against the bar, a glass in his hand. His expressionless face was alive only with the dark eyes that darted here and there and were never still. He was a pale creature, thickset and hunched over with a thick beard on his chin and short curls of greasy looking hair sticking out from under a wide brimmed black hat.
Kirby worked his way through the melee of shouting men to stand alongside Teddy Lobelia.
‘Hello, friend,’ Kirby bawled in his ear above the racket. ‘The black crow blows in from the north,’ he said, giving the recognition greeting of a Knight of the Golden Circle.
Teddy turned quickly, a startled look on his face. ‘What d’you say?’
‘I said, the black crow blows in from the north. You are Teddy Lobelia, ain’t you?’
‘I…. I am,’ Teddy stuttered nervously. ‘What d’you want?’
‘Give me right answer,’ Kirby ordered.
‘And the bluebird cries from the south,’
‘The bluebird sings sweeter.’
‘And the black crow croaks death.’
‘I need a few words,’ hollered Kirby into his ear. ‘Let’s go outside where we can hear ourselves talk.’
‘Words about what?’
Teddy was eyeing him nervously, his eyes flittering up and down Kirby’s figure.
‘News of the Circle,’ Kirby shouted close to his ear. ‘Outside now, this is too public.’
Brusquely, Kirby took Teddy’s arm and hustled him through the crowd and onto the street outside. As they left, a man in the shadows and lost in the crowd at the far end of the bar raised his head sufficient for his eyes to appear from under the brim of his hat and watch them leave.
Jesse James chewed his lip and wondered what Kirby Langstrom was doing down here in this sorry part of Chicago.
Jesse had newly arrived in the city intent on revenge, he carried a loaded pistol under his coat and a bullet in the chamber was inscribed with the name Pinkerton scratched into it. After the open spaces of Missouri he was out of his element here in the claustrophobic confines of this great city and had come in desperation to seek help from the city’s criminal elements in hope of a stealthy approach to the Pinkerton center.
Jesse decided it would be an ill-advised task now that he had seen a Pinkerton agent that knew him in the locality, he wanted no word of his presence to reach the Agency. He would have to go it alone he decided, lost as he was in this sprawling metropolis. It would be hard, he knew that, not knowing his way around, but he burned with such a hatred for Allen Pinkerton and the grief he had caused his family that he had come alone to the city to confront the man and send him quickly into an early grave. Assassination was on his mind and all he needed was a moment with Pinkerton in his sights and honor would be satisfied for his half-brother’s death and mother’s lost arm.
Jesse slid away from the crowd and made his way through a back door and into the maze of alleyways that made up the slums on the South Side of Chicago.
Whilst Jesse left unseen from the back door, Kirby and Teddy Lobelia were engaged in a heated conversation on the street out front of the tavern.
‘Who are you and what do you want with me?’ snarled Teddy
angrily, shaking his arm free of Kirby’s tight grip.
‘I need to make contact with the Grand Knight,’ said Kirby. ‘It’s a matter of urgency.’
‘Who is this Grand Knight? I know no such person, what are you talking about?’ Teddy whined.
‘Listen, friend,’ Kirby urged. ‘It is imperative I personally contact the Grand Knight. He is in dire need of funds and I must give him word of their arrival.’
‘You don’t say. Well if I knew who this character was I’d be only too glad to advise him of this windfall. Unfortunately, I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘Teddy, you’d best listen carefully to me,’ Kirby hardened his tone. ‘This is of prime importance and there is little time for dallying. Where in Brazil can I find Xavier Bond?’
Teddy shrugged and coughed a laugh, ‘Brazil! What should I know of Brazil? Why I couldn’t even find it on a map if you asked me.’
‘The Circle needs this, Teddy. It needs it now.’
Teddy stepped back a pace and fixed his darting eyes on Kirby, ‘If ever I saw a Pinkerton agent, you is it, mister. I’ve dealt with you fellows enough to know one when I see it. So don’t go hustling me with your cock and bull story.’
‘Do you like your face the way it is?’ Kirby asked him coldly, realizing pretense was no longer an option.
Teddy was cocky, ‘Don’t you threaten me; I’ll have ten men to my side in an instant. I just have to say the word.’
Kirby looked away in dismissive disgust. He turned back at Teddy, ‘I had hoped to do this the easy way but it seems everybody in this damned part of town is bent on being difficult.’
With that, he lunged forward and grasped Teddy’s crotch in a steely grip and squeezed hard. Teddy yelped softly, his eyes widening. ‘No, no,’ he breathed in a whisper. ‘Don’t. Please don’t.’
Kirby tightened his grip and twisted, ‘Tell me what I need to know or there’ll never be any Teddy Flowers rug rats available to populate the earth.’
Teddy gasped, sweat breaking out on his brow. His mouth worked, opening and shutting like a landed fish. ‘I’ll tell you,’ he wheezed. ‘Leave off, I’ll tell you.’
‘I’ll let you go when you spit it out.’
‘Alright, alright. He has a ranch outside of Vila de Santa Barbara in the Sao Paulo district. They’re all down there, all the Confederates that moved to Brazil, they’ve got places all over that region.’
Kirby eased his grip a little, ‘What’s it like down there?’
‘There ain’t much, mostly its jungle.’
‘You know how to get there?’
‘I’ve been. Now let me go, will you? I told you what you want.’
Kirby’s mind raced. He knew they would need Teddy to guide them and yet if he let him out of his sight the fellow would disappear never to be seen again.
‘You’d best come with me,’ he said, releasing the man.
Teddy backed away, his face a picture of resentment, ‘I ain’t going nowhere with you.’
‘You damned well are,’ said Kirby, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him off down the street. ‘There’s someone you have to meet.’
It was a fairly busy crossroads and the two were passing a parked flatbed delivery wagon stacked with blocks of ice when the cry came from behind them. The driver, a bowed figure with an inverted canvas sack covering his head and shoulders was hiking a hefty cube of ice from the back of the wagon with a pair of metal tongs and he looked up at the shout. Kirby turned to see a band of men pushing their way through the pedestrians in the street. They carried cudgels and long knives and looked as if they were intent on dangerous business.
‘Now you’re for it,’ sneered Teddy. ‘I told you I had friends here.’
Kirby drew his revolver and pointed it at the ice delivery man, ‘Get out of here,’ he ordered and the man took one look at the pistol and the advancing gang and dropping the block of ice on the road he discretely backed away into the doorway of the house he was delivering to.
‘Get up in the wagon,’ Kirby snarled at his prisoner.
‘What’re you aiming to do?’ whined Teddy.
‘Go for a sleigh ride,’ Kirby said as he pushed Teddy up onto the bed of the wagon.
The gang were shouting curses and calling for Kirby to stand still and take what was coming. A shot was fired and the bullet whanged off the box-side of the ice wagon and that set passersby on the street running for cover.
Kirby put his boot behind the lip of the block of ice lying at his feet and kicked out. The cube shot away, sliding easily over the cobbled street. It skidded in a fast glistening sheen towards the oncoming gang, who leapt and jumped to one side as it came on at them.
The distraction allowed Kirby to jump up onto the driver’s seat and grab the reins, with a holler he lashed at the backs of the two horses and got the wagon rolling. As it began lumbering down the road, Kirby tied off the reins to the brake handle and stepped over into the wagon bed allowing the horses to find their own way. Pushing a terrified Teddy to one side, he kicked out at the stacked blocks of ice, pushing them one by one off the open rear end of the wagon.
Ice chips flew and blocks skidded across the path of the gang. The close air of the slum was suddenly alive with flying shards of ice as the blocks impacted on the stones of the roadway. Great chunks flew in all directions filling the street from side to side in a skating river of frozen fragments. The street was soon a maze of sliding blocks that veered in wayward crossways patterns and the gang was hard put to keep their feet as the cubes flew towards them. They leapt and jumped, side stepped and staggered as the skittering ice bore down on them.
Satisfied, Kirby climbed back in the driving seat and whipped up the teams. He looked over his shoulder at Teddy, who was watching his cronies in dismay as they tripped and fell under the slippery tidal wave.
‘Enough to freeze the blood in your veins, ain’t it?’ quipped Kirby with an amused quirk of his lip.
Chapter Ten
‘What do you want to do with him?’ asked Belle, looking down her nose at the disheveled figure of Teddy Lobelia. The go-between glared silently back at them from the chair Kirby had lashed him to.
Kirby was standing by the hotel room window, staring down into the busy street.
‘If you still aim to go get Bond,’ he said. ‘We’re going to need a guide.’
‘You think so?’ asked Belle doubtfully.
Kirby turned to look at her, ‘You still want to do this?’ he asked.
‘You know I do.’
‘Then think about it. It’ll be pretty wild country down there, like we’ve never seen before. Let alone the fact that Xavier Bond will be surrounded by a whole parcel of loyal Confederates at his beck and call. Remember, they’re being treated as welcome foreigners by the locals, we won’t be.’
Belle glanced across at Teddy, ‘You think he will do it?’ she asked.
‘He don’t have no choice in the matter.’
‘Who does he remind you of?’ asked Belle, studying the bearded little figure.
Kirby shrugged, ‘I don’t know. Who’ve you got in mind?’
‘He looks a lot like Allen Pinkerton.’
‘No,’ Kirby was dismissive. ‘Never,’ he paused taking a second look. He had to admit that the build was right, the beard was similar and the same beetle-browed glare was right on the button. Kirby chuckled, ‘I dare say he could pass as the chief on a dark night if he didn’t have that rat-tailed hair curling out the back and kept his mouth shut.’
‘You finished?’ snarled Teddy irritably, as he struggled with his uncomfortable bonds. ‘Quit talking about me like I ain’t here.’
‘Maybe we should take him along to see the boss,’ mused Belle, forefinger on her lip. ‘Could be that’ll convince him to give us leave to make this trip.’
Kirby shrugged again, ‘If you think so.’
‘Look,’ wheedled Teddy. ‘You can’t do this to me. It’s got to be against some kind of law. Kidnapping
a body like this. And I don’t want to go down there again, they got all kinds of diseases in that country, why they even got snakes. And I mean big snakes. Spiders too. Size of your hand. Even the damned frogs are poisonous!’
‘Ugh!’ Belle wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t like spiders.’
‘Great hairy suckers,’ Teddy continued breathlessly, seeing he was getting somewhere. ‘I mean they is evil creatures. Creep in your bed at night. And they bite too, them and the bats.’
‘What is this?’ asked Kirby testily. ‘Some kind of natural history discourse. Shut your mouth, Teddy, before I stuff a pillow case down your throat.’
‘You can shut me up all you like,’ Teddy said loftily. ‘But I’m telling you it ain’t like home in that place. It’s a whole new world. Why they don’t even speak American down there, their lingo is all in Portuguese.’
Belle turned away from him and crossed the room to stand next to Kirby. She linked her arm in his and they both stood looking out of the window.
‘Do you think Lomas will want to be involved in this?’ she asked quietly.
‘Why’d you ask?’
‘Well, it was his sister who was raped and treated so bad by Bond’s men. I thought that maybe he’d like to get some payback for her sake.’
Kirby shook his head, ‘I doubt that. Best let it lie, I reckon. It’s a sure thing that Ladybell won’t want to be reminded and Lomas, well, he’ll get all puppy-like now he’s discovered his paternal connection with you.’
‘That could be an advantage.’
‘No, it’ll just get in the way. Best we leave him out of it, I’d say.’
Belle nodded thoughtfully, ‘Maybe,’ she agreed, pulling him close and resting her head against his shoulder. ‘But at least lets get this fool over to meet Pinkerton and see if we can convince him to give us a travelling allowance.’
‘If we must,’ agreed Kirby, who could never resist his wife.
Seeing the two of them together in the office brought a smile to Kirby’s lips. They did look alike.
The glowering figure of Allen Pinkerton studied the equally glaring Teddy Lobelia and scratched thoughtful fingers through his beard. They stared at each other across the desktop and to Kirby’s eye it was almost like a mildly distorted mirror reflecting the image of the two men.
