The world spun as he opened his eyes.  He tried to rub the haze away, but it stubbornly clung to him like a stubborn child.  Looking around, there was nothing familiar about the place.  He was not in the square, that was for certain, and that filled his addled mind with questions.  How long had he been unconscious?  Who had taken him from the square? He pushed himself to a seated position on the cot.  Ceiling’s eight feet tall.  Not the Mission.  Boarding house ceiling’s are barely seven and the orphanage somewhere about twenty.  One cot.  No.  No there’s another in the corner.  Two residents?  One who expects company?  The room spun faster.  There were too many unknown variables for the math to bring him any comfort.

“Ah, it seems you’ve awakened.  Good.  Good.”  The voice was familiar, but he was having difficulties placing it.  He shook his head, making another attempt to resettle his senses, and it had worked.  His eyes began to focus once again and he saw his host fiddling at a counter.  “I was beginning to worry about you, SJ.  You are lucky I came by when I did.  That mob would have trampled you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Will.  It appears I did not think through the repercussions of my speech.  I wanted the men to fight, not to riot.”  The word had a metallic taste to it.  Then a host of worry sprang upon him, “Oh, God, Will.  What did I do?  Was anyone hurt?  What about the square, or the mission?  By thunder, the mission.”  SJ tried to stand, but his legs gave out beneath him.  Will caught him and helped him back to the cot.

“Easy there, SJ.  You’ve had a bad shot to the head.  You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.  The mission’s fine, I sent Hodgepodge back to the shop, and the square is okay.  Calmer heads prevailed.  The air is a bit tense down there, but you can’t be worrying about that now.  He looked over the bandage SJ only noticed as he pulled it back.  “Hell of a wound if I do say so.  Somebody really didn’t like you much.”

“It was that Uptown lapdog, O’Malley.  At least I think it was him.  It may have been one of his thugs.  My recollection is rather fuzzy, understandably.”  Will poured a bit of cool water against his head to wash out whatever dirt and dust still clung to it.  “You’ve certainly got a way with medicine.”

Will’s voice strained a bit, leaning over him, “Really?  Nice of you to say.  In my line of work, I’ve found it important to know a bit about everything.  Sadly, though, it also means I don’t have a lot of time to get good at any of it.  How’s the phrase go?  ‘Jack of all trades, master of none?’”

“Well I’ve found that in my line of work, that phrase is stuff and nonsense.  My day ranges from saw sharpening to mending malfunctioning appendages and everything in between.  There was even one day I had to repair an Uptowner’s mechanical manservant.”

He could see the look of confusion in Will’s face.  Not anything as base as shock, though.  More curious.  “There’s someone else with a man like Hodgepodge?”

SJ tried to hide his laughter.  “Trust me, Will, there is absolutely nothing or no one that is like Hodgepodge Von Clockverk.  I would have thought you’d have seen one, working Uptown as you do.  But then again,” he paused, “Households that would hire folks like you tend not to have them.  Mechanical manservants, or Clanky Men as most people call them, are actually rather rare.  This due mostly to the outrageous sums their builders usually ask for them.  In the hands of a proper operator, they can be taught to do the more menial household chores.  Fascinating machines, actually.  It was a pleasure to work on it.  Used to be a man here in the Points could make them do spectacular things indeed.”  As he spoke, he noticed Will’s eyes gloss over.  “Hello?  Will, are you there?”

“What?  What’s that?  Oh, sorry.  My mind was elsewhere I’m afraid.  Shall I make us some tea?”

“Thank you for the offer, Will, but I fear I must be going.”

“SJ, you have to rest.  There is no reason to.”

SJ cut him short, “No, I am afraid I must insist.  You have done me yet another kindness Master Portsmouth, and one that I would not soon forget.  However, I have a shop to run, a rather cranky automaton at home, and a bit of damage control, I’m sure of it.  This little scene of mine may have resolved itself today, but I am sure it will come back before long.  I have a great deal of thinking to do.”

“Do you think there will be trouble?”

He put a hand on the butler’s shoulder, “Oh, sweet, naïve Will.  I have no doubts of it in the least.  One does not simply walk into Uptown with a banner of war without sparking a bit of trouble.  Spend enough time with me, and I will heap more trouble onto your life than you could ever hope to carry.  It’s – well, it’s pretty much what I do.”

“Well I’m at least going to come with you.”

“The Adolphus is gone God only knows where, Petunia is missing, and I have already buried more than I care to.  No, Will.  You’ve done far too much as it is.  Go back to work.  Folks say you’ve been going Uptown quite a bit these days, so I assume that means you’ve found new work.  Your attention is best left there.  Good honest labor and all that.”

He looked sullen and a bit deflated.  It was as if SJ’s words were a hard punch to the stomach.  In the brief time SJ had known the butler, he had been a fast friend.  Though it was for the best, he hated to do it.  Will gathered himself a moment, wiping his brow with a pocket handkerchief.  “I understand, SJ.  Whatever you feel is best.”

“I do.”  He embraced the man, apparently still in shock.  “I will see you, Will.  Stay out of trouble

It started out a low, buzzing sort of sound.  One he had dismissed as surely coming from the railyard.  However, the buzz began to swell, picking up steam at every turn until there was a veritable roaring inferno of sound.  Passionate shouts resonated off the walls and shook the foundations.

Hodgepodge went to the window, “What do you make of this then?”

SJ took up position at the other window and looked out.  Dozens of people were rushing past the shop and headed towards Paradise Square.  He tried to discern the cause, but was overwhelmed by a sense of dread creeping about his insides.  Whatever it was that stirred up this fervor, he could practically smell blood and black powder that would follow.  ”Pudge, I believe it’s time we take a stroll down to the square.”

“No, SJ, I believe someone should stay here and mind the shop.  Yes,” he said gazing through the curtains, “I believe staying put would be in order here.”

He tugged at the automaton’s arm.  ”We’re going.  Whatever’s causing such a stir, I think we need to be a part of it.  These people are ready to bubble over into madness.  If someone does not make headway to stem the tide, there will be nothing of the points but ashes.”  Hodgepodge lifted a finger, preparing to make a point, but SJ would not let him, “And don’t think I”m letting you stay here by yourself.  This very well could be some sort of trick to catch me up.  With Petunia still missing, who knows what Geoffrey might be up to.”

“SJ, that was months ago, and what’s to say it wasn’t Magnus’s idea, may he rest in peace.”

“You’re coming.  That is all.”  The firm declaration did little to move him.  ”Fine then.  Excuse me, Pudge, as I go rushing into the angry mob — most likely to my death.”

Hodgepodge gave a sigh, and in his standard mocking tone chirped, “‘No, Pudge, you can’t come ride on the airship with me.  I need you in the shop.  No, Pudge, you can’t come to the gala this evening.  I need you at the shop.  There’s a crowd of hooligans with death in their eyes, Pudge.  Why don’t you come with me?’  I swear, Samuel, there are days I find it very difficult to like you.”

They left the Spark and Whistle and made their way through the crowd.  SJ caught one of the men and asked, “Excuse me, might you tell me why everyone is so upset?”

“You haven’t heard?  They mean ta tear down the mission.  Says it’s “structurally unsound” and could fall at any minute.  Something about a new building codes or some shite.”

SJ did not respond, though his pace quickened.  They had gone through so much to make repairs, even improvements.  Those walls wouldn’t fall.  They couldn’t.  They had made sure of it.  Even in its battered condition, the mission walls were among the sturdiest in the Points.  That same  black, sickening feeling bubbled up inside him again.  This was not not simply a politician throwing around some muscle.  This was personal.

By the time they reached the square itself, there was hardly enough room to stand.  Bodies pressed in on each other in an attempt to hear the gentleman making proclamations over the din.  He was well pale, hair slicked down, and positively covered in Uptown finery.  SJ pushed his way close enough to make out the last of his speech.  ”and furthermore, new building codes enacted in the Tower Initiative have determined this structure unfit.  Therefore, the Right Honorable Harlan Tulane has declared this building to be torn down in two weeks time, in order to prevent further tragedies and avoid further deaths from occurring.  Know that this is for the betterment of the area and for your safety.  Your cooperation in this regard is appreciated.”

“What about the kids,” cried one voice.

“And the boarding houses?  I ain’t got nowhere else to go.”

“I assure you,” puffed the Uptown gentleman, “arrangements have been made.  Construction has already begun on temporary housing outside of the city.  You will be escorted there as soon as they are made available.”

“Escorted?  That’s just fancy Uptown talk for dragged kickin’ and screamin’ in’it?”  The crowd roared with the words.  SJ knew the man was probably right.  At best, he knew this housing would certainly not be ‘temporary.’  His anger burned, as visions of Mayweather and Geoffrey flashed through his mind.

As the crowd’s calls were reaching their apex, a large uniformed man stepped forward, slapping a blackjack in his hand.  ”Quiet down, the lot a ya.  This is an unlawful gathering, and me and my boys will have to raise hell if you folks don’t kindly go on back to your homes.”  O’Malley hadn’t been much for keeping the law.  The police captain had long become an Uptown puppet, and preferred it to the slums.  Most of the officers that still patrolled Downtown were local boys just trying to get by, and as such, let its denizens do the same.  Even those that had no loyalty to the Points or its people had that loyalty bought courtesy of Madam Leviathan who kept girls and drinks flowing to those who let the them keep their own kind of peace.  If the thick necked brute was back, it meant someone with muscle pushed him to it.

O’Malley motioned to one of the officers, who held a notice he assumed was what the Uptown gentleman had referred to as the ‘Tower Initiative.’  The officer than tacked the notice on the door of what used to be Hope Tower.  They had left the door and archway there.  A monument to remember what was.  At the time, Bosch had said it would remind people that buildings can be rebuilt, as long as hope endured.  As the hammer pounded the nail home, SJ could stand no more.  He pushed forward.  Hodgepodge grabbed his arm.  ”Don’t be foolish, SJ.  This crowd is ready to explode.  They’ve gone mad.”

“I don’t think they’ve gone nearly mad enough.  I mean to fix that.”  He tried to make another push forward, but he made little headway.  From behind him, a blast of something that sounded much like a train whistle parted the crowd, leaving SJ and Hodgepodge to stand alone.  He gave Pudge a wink and then spoke.  ”People of the Points.  Men and women of Downtown.  I have a few questions of you that do not need answers, for they are known to all of us.  When the Points were in trouble, people dying in the streets from the gangs, from hunger, or from simply lacking a place in this world — where was Uptown?  When we built Hope Tower, yes, WE built it, where was Uptown?  When it fell, and we were left to pick up the pieces, where was Uptown?”

“Cozied up in their houses all fancy fine, that’s where.”  Shouts of ‘Here, here’ and ‘Listen to the boy’ answered as well.

“I’ve lived here most of my life.  I have hurt with you, laughed with you, and done my bit to help make a better life here for all of us.  Then an Uptown man made me a promise. A promise of new life and new homes for the Points.  I bought into it and found I had entered a deal with the Devil, since it was revealed to me by one of his servants that his intent was to rebuild it for them, shooing us away like rats.”  The crowd seethed with his words, “This is the promise of Uptown.  This is how they act on our behalf.  I saw Downtown starts doing what Downtown does best.  Let us take care of our own, and to hell with their poisoned honey promises.”

As he finished speaking, he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head.  His eyes grew dark, and the last thing he saw was men raging like beasts.

The passengers on the Melbourne huddled in the galley, the pirates circling them like hungry vultures.  “Keep quiet, do as your told, and maybe we’ll let you live,” said a lanky fellow with a long rifle.

“If we’re feeling generous today,” chimed in another voice.

There were three of them standing by, leaving who knows how many filtering through the cabins of the passenger ship.  It would be a while before the rest came to join them.  The recent festival in Boston had filled the Melbourne with half drunken men and women of privilege; pockets still fat beyond measure.  She had not been surprised to see the Valkyrie charging fast on their bow.  She had counted on it.

When the scruffy, older pirate passed, she let her token fall to the floor.  It made a clanging sound against the floorboards, drawing his attention.  He picked up the coin and looked at it intently before his eyes turned to the cloaked woman.  “Boys, go tell the captain we’ve secured the passengers.  When you done that, go see if the boys need help.  I’ve got this covered.”

“You crazy, Giles?  Cap’n says we ain’t supposed to leave til Biggs calls us out.”

“Aye, that she did.  Let me ask ya something.  With all these rich folk on board, you think the captain would miss a few trinkets here and there?  A few notes here, a bit a jewelry there?  No.  I think not.  You think the rest of the boys’ll want to share what they find with you two?”

The two other men looked at each other, then gave a look to the passengers cowering in their seats.  The second man spoke first, “He got a point there, Crow.  We should get before the pickin’s been done.  These folk ain’t got any fire.  They won’t give him troubles.”

The first pirate thought it over a bit and gave a nod.  “Alright, Giles.  So help me, though, you let any a’ these folks go and we toss you over.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.  Lord knows it’s what I’d do.”  The two men left quickly rushing towards the staterooms.  Giles turned toward her, “Captain?!”  She lowered the hood of her traveling cloak, revealing her face in full.  “By Christ, it is you.”  He tucked the coin back into her hand.  “I knew you’d be coming back.  The Valkyrie’s pitched straight for hellfire.  You always did seem get drawn to  that sort a’ thing.”

Dru gave her old first mate a half smile.  “I was beginning to worry you’d turned on me too, Giles.”

He snorted, “Not me, Miss.  They’ve said a lot of things about me in my days, but no man living or dead has ever called Maynard Giles a turncoat.”

“Anyone else still loyal to me, or have they all gone over to Eugenia?”

He shook his head, “Not many.  Seems most of the boys were hungry for something more.  That’s what you get with these young lads.  No honor among thieves these days.  Only ones true to the old way are Pratt, Mulberry,  Shifty Bob, and me.  Not much of a crew I suppose.”

“Nonsense.  There might not be a lot of you, but you’re exactly the ones I need.”  The crowd was growing restless.  She saw the look in the eyes of more than a few of the men.  There was nothing more dangerous than a stupid boy with white knight dreams.  ”Giles,  do you think you can rally the boys quietly and get them back here without letting on?”

“Of course I can, Miss.”

“Be quick then.” He saluted her and ran out the door.  She spoke to the passengers, “Listen up.  I know you folks aren’t used to taking orders, and you’ve had a lot of unsavory types giving them to you lately.  Well, I intend to be one more of them.  I need you all to be quiet and not do anything stupid like starting fights.  That’s what I’m here for.  I have no desire to hurt any of you, but I promise you right now.  If I so much as see you twitch in a way that puts me and mine in danger and I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your head.  Are we clear?”  There was only silence in reply, which she interpreted as assent.  ”Good.  Keep your heads down and everyone will get out of here in one piece.”

Giles returned with the others a moment later.  Each man in turn overjoyed at the sight of their captain.  “Alright, Miss.  What’s the plan?”

“Where is Eugenia right now?”

It was Pratt who spoke first, “She was up on deck overseeing the load.  Lots of boys up there moving around.  Lots of chaos.”

“She’s slick as snake oil, Captain,” Shifty Bob hissed, “This isn’t gonna be easy.”

“Of course it is,” Dru said, “all we need to do is get our hands on Eugenia.  None of these boys have the sand to stand on their own.  If they did, they’d have tried long ago.  No, we take her down and they’ll crumble.  You boys think you can get her to come down?”

“Like I said, Captain.  She never leaves sight of the money.  She won’t leave the upper decks if the devil ‘imself said.  No way.”

“Well that’s a shame.  I was kind of hoping not to have to go loud on this one.  But if that’s the way it has to be played.  Bob?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“If I need you on deck, can I trust you can get there without riling up the pot before it’s time?”

He nodded.  “Still no one better at the touch than me.  No one sees me unless I want to be seen.”

“Good man.  Get yourself up to wherever she’s at and keep quiet.  Be ready for when things get ugly.”

“Yes’m.”  He slipped out the door.

“What about the rest of us, Captain,” asked Mulberry.  “What you need us to do?”

“Seems Giles is about to have a little trouble with one of the passengers.”

****

There were a dozen or so men on the deck, lugging treasures of all sizes over the riggings.  The Valkyrie was only feet away, and yet so much had to happen before she could claim her.  Soon.  Soon I’ll have you back. Pratt and Mulberry dragged her across the boards, as Giles marched before them.  He knelt before her usurper like some old time vassal.  “Captain, you had asked me to attend to problems we had with any of the passengers.  Most have been quiet, but this one’s been causing problems.  Figured you’d like to make an example of her.”

Eugenia Dubois walked towards them.  Her eyes were cold.  Her lips pressed tight, as if someone pulled the corners with twine.  She looked down her nose at them.  The woman before her had once been her greatest friend and ally.  But power and greed have a funny way of turning people.  Twisting them up into shadows.  This thing was a ghoul.  Nothing more.  “Exactly, Giles.  I told you to attend to them.  I cannot be bothered with this sort of thing.  Take care of her.  If she struggles, toss her over and see if she can fly.”

“If you please, Captain,” he continued, “I know you are busy with the load out, but there is something about this one.  She’s not like the rest of ‘em.”

“I swear, I should have locked you up from the start.  Okay then.  What’s so special about this one?”

When she had gotten close enough, Dru pulled the pistols hidden with her sleeves and pointed them at her.  “Hello, Eugenia.  I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

She cried out instantly, but Dru and her boys had drawn, encircling the usurper.  “Easy now,” Giles yelled, cocking his shotgun, “I’ve got no quarrel with you lads unless you make one.  Now how about you lay ‘em down and we can talk this out like civilized scoundrels?”  One of Eugenia’s boys stood to draw, but Bob’s bullet was quicker.  He fell with a thud, and the others soon laid down their weapons.

“Well what do you expect to do now that you got me, Dru?  I hear there’s quite a bounty on me these days.”

She never turned away from the impostor captain, as she shouted orders to her men.”Pratt, get up the guns.  Bob, I want you to find this ship’s rightful captain and set things to right.  Nothing stays on the Valkyrie besides the firepower.”

“Yes, Capatin.”

Eugenia kept talking.  “Isn’t much difference between you and me, Dru.  You know it’s true.  We’re just privateers out to survive.  It’s the way of the world, you know?  Just the way things work.”

“There is nothing the same about you and me, Genie.  Used to be.   Not anymore.”

She could see sweat pooling across her forehead.  Her lower lip quivering.  She could not hide the joy spreading across her own face.  She had dreamed of this moment, and it was all she could have hoped for.  Eugenia must have seen it, as her bravado turned to pleading.  ”Come on, Dru. You gotta show mercy.  Pirate code, and all.”

“Mr. Giles?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Kindly see if Miss Dubois has learned to fly in my absence..”

“No.  No, Johannes,” she said, “I do not like this place at all.”

He walked beside her, shielding his eyes, “You have nothing to worry about, Baroness.  We need a place for the old boy to lick his wounds.  A place that we can hide out and think a few things through.  There isn’t anywhere safer than Bodger’s shack.  Do me a favor, though, and don’t go too far.  Bodge doesn’t know we’re coming.  It’s not recommended to sneak up on the old boy, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“Oh, why thank you.  That set my nerves at ease.”  He could feel the sarcasm splatter against his glasses.

“Captain’s right, Sam.  Bodger is, well, let’s just call him unique, but he’s a certifiable genius.  He makes the most incredible machines.”  Heinrich walked down the gangplank to join them.  Bosch was a bit leery to have his first mate leave the ship with Miss Montrose left to her own devices, but Bodger and Heinrich had become fast friends.  Anything to set the inventor’s mind at ease was welcome.   He continued, “Once he made a machine that would have a plate of bacon and eggs sizzling on the table before you took your head out of the washbasin.  Amazing stuff.”

“Well tell me then, Heinrich, why on earth a man of such genius locks himself away in a shack in the middle of nowhere?”

“Like I said.  Bodger is unique, and he doesn’t get along well with people in general.”

They walked towards the shack until he found what he was looking for.  The post stood in the middle of a field, the shack just barely made out amid the trees that covered the hillside.  Bosch pushed the button.  ”Bodger?  Hey, Bodger you home?”

The Baroness gave a yelp, pulling her pistol on a vexed squirrel that was not used to company.  ”What sort of a name is ‘Bodger’ anyway?  Does not sound like a proper sort of name to me.”

“That’s because it isn’t,” Heinrich answered, “folks have always called him Bodger.  It’s a word for somebody that makes things out in the woods.  You can see why it works for him.”

“Well what is his real name?”

“Well, you’d have to ask him I guess.”

Bosch shook his head.  ”That wouldn’t do you any good.  Even he’s forgotten what it is.”  He pushed the button again, trying hard not to raise his voice, “Come on, Bodger.  We’ve come a long way.  We could use a good meal and a bed.”

The voice came through the box, crackling and popping, “What?  Who’re you?”

“It’s Johannes, Bodger.”

“Johannes?  Johannes who?  I don’t owe you money do I?”

“No, Bodge.  It’s Johannes Bosch from Manhattan.”

“Manhattan?  Nice place.  I used to live there you know?  Nice place.”

The captain threw up his hands in frustration, leaving Heinrich to attempt contact.  ”Bodger.  It’s Heinrich Maneuver.  Remember me?”

“Heinrich?  Yes.  Heinrich so glad to hear from you.  Come in. Come in.  Get out of the cold.”

Samantha picked up her skirt and headed toward the shack, but Bosch held out his arm.  ”Bodger, did you turn off the wall?”

“What?  Speak up, Boy.  Can’t hear a word you just said.”

“The W-A-L-L.  Did you turn it off?”

There was a long pause.  ”Yes. Yes, I’m sure I turned it off.”  The captain took out a piece of salt pork he had tucked in his belt pouch and tossed it into the field.  There was a loud crackle as electricity arced over the meat.  Not long after they could hear the sounds of machinery powering down.  The smell of electric discharge still fresh in the air.  ”Okay, now I know I turned it off.”

Bosch lowered his arm.  ”Stick to the path.  It’s been a long time since we’ve been up here.  Lord only knows what Bodger’s been making since then.”  The Baroness snorted.  Heinrich shook his head and smiled.

The shack was nothing out of the ordinary from the outside.  In fact, it looked like any other log home.  But once a person crossed the threshold, they discovered that Bodger’s shack was hardly average.  The walls would be lined with various creations.  Some were benign trinkets designed to make life easier.  The rest, however, made Bosch’s skin crawl.  Hollow, lifeless eyes stared at him no matter where he stood, as if they followed him.  Watched him.  Luckily for them, Bodger got bored of destruction, and rarely finished the war machines.  It was easy to tear something down if one had a desire to.  He was more interested in creation.  The captain recalled one night, sitting by his fireplace years earlier, Bodger had told him “There is something truly beautiful about bringing something into this world.  Scavenging the broken husks of former things and giving them new purpose.”  No.  The inventor had been more a philosopher poet than a warmonger.

The old man met them at the door.  His pure white hair shot out in all directions.  He adjusted the various lenses in his glasses, inspecting the trio.  ”Can I interest any of you folks in some cookies?  Fresh made.”

Johannes grabbed one and nibbled on it.  ”Thank you.  Listen, Bodge, we’ve got ourselves in a bit of trouble.  We need a place to lay low for a bit.  Mind if we stay here?

“Sure, sure.  Yes, You can stay here.  How long would you be,” he stopped short, darting across the room to write something down across the wall “Yes.  That would work bring up the cooling quotient exponentially.  It may just be feasible.”

Samantha looked puzzled.  ”Excuse me?”

He shook his head, tossing aside whatever thought had robbed his train of thought, “How long will you be staying?”

“Hard to say, Bodge.  Could be a couple days.  Could be a couple months.”

“Well,” he tapped his chin, “That should be alright.  Actually, yes.  I’ve been looking for some test subjects.”

The Baroness stomped, “I will not be a test subject.”

“You?  No.  You’re too, too,”  His hands made various curving motions “feisty.  No I was thinking about.”  Again he stopped short, though it was not errant thoughts, but pain that shot across his face.  None of them knew what to do as  Bodger swayed back and forth, bracing himself against the nearby wall.  He pounded violently against the metal object he wore against his chest.  Bosch smelled the acrid scent of electricity again as a white arc struck him.  They gawked at him, still unsure what they had just seen, as the inventor continued from where he left off, “I was thinking about going in another direction.”

“What was that, Bodge?”

“Oh this?”  He rapped the device, “It’s just a little something I made to keep the blood pumping.  Not as old as I used to be, you know?  Anyway, I’m sure I can get some rooms for you guys.  Then you can tell me about these bad men I can only assume are chasing you for dishonoring their daughters, pillaging their villages or whatever it is you people do.”

There were worse places to be held captive.  She had been in several.  However, the one window in her room mocked her.  High on the wall and wickedly small, it did little more than let a sliver of the outside world invade.  Escape would be impossible, but it helped her track the passing time.  It had been four days since Wilkes brought her there, a fact that still ate at her belly.  He had not set a fine trap, or come at her with a squad of thugs.  Had she been thinking clearly, she never would have allowed that lap dog to catch her.  That note had rattled her.

I knew you would come, Petunia.

The words had scratched themselves across her mind.  The weasel’s words, slimy as bad grits, coated her mind with a thin layer of fear she could not wipe away.  Was he even at the estate?  No, she thought, if he were here, he’d have come to gloat. The bastard’d never let a prime chance like this go by.

Petunia and Geoffrey had never gotten along.  Even when the two of them were playing their roles as dutiful servants something rubbed her the wrong way.  There was something about the way the butler had carried himself, like the world was full of peasants compared to him.  There were even a few times she caught him looking down his nose at the Lieutenant Colonel.  Man has a way of hiding his secrets, especially those that train themselves to it, but a careful ear can hear the dripping venom behind a smile.

She noted the position of the sunlight on the wall.  Her guard would be around soon with another bowl of thick slop.  She heard a stirring outside the door.  It opened to reveal a small girl held by the thick necked guard.  “’Ere you go, Miss.  Brought you somebody ta play with.  Be careful though.  She’s a biter.”

He shoved the girl into the room, falling on her face.  Petunia lunged at him, but she was no match for him, shackled as she was.  She felt the air rush from her lungs at the ham-fisted jailor’s punch.  Through painful tears she watched as the girl skittered on all fours to the corner.  Her breath returned, and she went to her.  The little thing was a mess of tangled brown hair.  She rocked herself back and forth.  A sound, somewhere between crying and growling, filled the silence.

“It’s okay little one,” Petunia said, holding out her hand, “The bad man’s outside.  It’s just you and Miss Petunia now.  You got nothing to worry about.”  The strange sound turned into a low whimper as the girl’s eyes rose to meet hers. “That’s right.  That’s right now.  It’s gonna be okay.  What’s your name?”

There was more whimpering.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you.  You’ve got nothing to worry about.”  She extended her hand to touch the girl’s shoulder, but she smacked it away, hissing at the railwayman.  Then she saw.  “Jesus, Lord.  What did they do to you, Child?”

The girl continued to rock herself in the corner of the room the rest of the evening.  She did not say a word other than to hiss at Petunia whenever their eyes met.  She had been unnerved when she had seen the mouth of teeth filed down to razor points.  The girl seemed more animal than human.  Whether from maternal instinct or lingering guilt, Petunia’s thoughts were of little Lucy Mayweather.  This was just another young girl.  Just another poor child who could not fight against the world she was forced into.  A doll in someone else’s game.

The door creaked open and the girl cringed.  Petunia was surprised again to see it was not the guard.  A thin, towheaded girl popped in hiding something in the fold of her apron.  She closed the door silently behind her.  “I must be quick.  Here you go loves.  A bit of something from the kitchen. Wish I could do more.”

Petunia watched the loaf of fresh bread and the hunk of cheese fall out to the floor.  She jumped for it, expecting the girl-thing to do likewise, but she still coward in the corner.  “Thank you, Miss.  Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.  I tried to get you folks something earlier, but seems the rooms are full these days and I have to be careful.  If his lordship knew I was doing this he’d have me strung up for sure.  I’ll be back in a few days with more.”

“What’s your name, Miss?”

“Ellie May.  Ellie May Dawson,” she curtsied, “Pleasure to meet you.  Now I’ve got go.  If Wilkes or Moon find me I’ll be chained up next to you.  Stay alive.”

Petunia broke the bread and cheese into to portions, leaving the other half for the girl to grab.  She was about to take her first bite, but could not take her eyes off of her.  She was thin, abnormally so.  Her eyes were hollow and she attacked the food.  The nursemaid quietly walked towards the girl, causing her to leap back to her corner with a cry.  She did not say a word, but left her half of the secret meal in front of her.  “Seems you need it more than I do, girlie.”  She sat down on the floor with her back to the wall.  Her chains clanked with each movement.  “I don’t know what we’re in for little one, but I’m sure it ain’t good.”

“Bad.  Double bad.”

The words shocked her, “Was beginning to think you didn’t understand a word I was saying.”

She spoke between bites, spitting food occasionally, “Understand more than you.  Bad man does bad things in the basement.  Puts the bees in our head so we can’t think straight.”

She had always assumed that they were locked in the basement.  Wilkes had dragged her down several flights of stairs to get there.  Had there been more to this estate?  A sub-basement?  Her thoughts raced.  Of course, Petunia!  How stupid could I get?  Geoffrey’s got to maintain his shiny little image.  Can’t let the riff raff see his dirty belly. “Who’s ‘us’, girl?  More folks like you?”

She wiped her mouth against her ratty, overlong shirt sleeve.  “Some like me.  Some like you.  Some like the monster.”

“The Monster?”

She jutted her chin and hunched her shoulders.   Petunia figured that was her name for the big guard.  “What do they do to you down in the basement?”

She grabbed her ears and shook her head fiercely, “No, no, no.  Mustn’t say.  Mustn’t  say.  Monster takes the sparkle sticks to talkers.”

Her anger burned again.  Wilkes.  Moon.  Geoffrey.  All of them would die.  They’d pay for whatever it is they did to this girl.  She had to find a way to get word out that something was amiss.  Had to let the Railroad know, and get word to SJ.  Had to let them know she was in a bad way.   She frantically searched the room for anything that could be helpful.

The only things in the room were shabby cots, blankets, and old straw mats that stank of all sorts of filth.  She kicked at the cot, trying to break off a piece of wood.  The girl saw this and looked curiously at her.  “Give me a hand, girl.”  The girl stood slowly, watching her kick at the makeshift bed.  She let out a terrible scream.  Her kick rattled the floor beneath them and left the bed in splinters.  That would not go unnoticed.  “Good girl, now go back to the corner and rock.”  She gave the nursemaid another confused look, “Trust me, now git.”

“What’n the hell are you two up to in here,” Moon asked, bursting through the door.

“Don’t look at me.  It’s that thing you put in here with me.  She screamed and went crazy.  You gotta get me out of here.”

Moon chuckled, “Ain’t you supposed to be somethin’ special?  Take care a yerself.  Rooms are full, and I ain’t got anywhere else to put ya.”  He closed the door and she listened to his footsteps fade off down the hall.

She spoke softly, “Sorry about all that mean talk there.  Had to make him think you were crazy.  Otherwise, he’d give us all manner a trouble over this.”  She took two of the smaller splinters, along with strip from the blanket, and began weaving them into the design she had practiced so many times as a child.

“What you making?”

“It’s a dreamcatcher.  Old Indian trick the Railroad uses to let folks know things got bad.  There.  It’s all done.” She showed the girl her craftsmanship.  It wasn’t much, and certainly not the prettiest work, but it’d have to do.  “Now we need to get it up in that window there.  If we can get it there, somebody might see it and get word out.”

The girl grabbed it, looking it over.  She then looked across its surface towards the window.  With a delicate flick, it landed on the ledge above them.

“You got a talent girl.”

“Bees tell me where to throw.  I just throw.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I know that now we just gotta sit tight and hope none of those idiots see that thing.  Let’s get some sleep.  You can use the good bed.”

“Scared.  Bees bring nightmares.”

“Don’t you worry little one.  That dreamcatcher’ll catch all those nightmares and keep you safe.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

She tried to hide her own concerns, “No worries now.  It’ll work,” She looked at the girl, who now had tears filling her eyes, “it’s got to.”

Now then, how does one go about this?  How does one go about finding an organization that thrives on secrecy? His thoughts wandered as he strolled through the streets.  For that matter, how can I be sure that such an organization isn’t looking to find me?

Things had reclaimed a bit of normalcy in Paradise Square.  He dodged a pack of boys racing down the street after a scraggly looking puppy.  While the market still lay in shambles, some of the merchants had set up temporary booths in the square.  The market, makeshift or otherwise, was not what he was looking for, however.  He had come looking for the Circus.

“Eh, laddy,” coughed an old man SJ was sure he’d seen before, “What brings a dapper lad like you down te the square?  You one a’ them reformers?”

“Not hardly, Sir.  I’m here looking for something.”

“Ain’t we all?”  He took a long swig from a bottle.  ”Ain’t we all.”

SJ tugged at the collar of his shirt, “Perhaps, well, maybe you might be able to assist me.”

He wiped the last of the liquor from his beard, “I can see what I can do.  It’s what I do, and I do it well.”  SJ looked around, trying hard to look inconspicuous.  ”What ye worried about, Boy-o?”

“Well,” he leaned down close and whispered softly, “I’m hoping that the Circus might be in town?”

“The circus?  That dog and pony show ran out months ago.  If ye wait long enough I’m sure they’ll be back again.”

“I’m not sure you are understanding me.”  He gave him a wink.  ”I was really looking forward to seeing the clowns.  You know.  At the circus.”

“I’m sure they’ll be there come the summertime.  Same with the horses and those damn elephants.”

He tried to hide the growing frustration boiling up inside him.  ”Listen you old goat, I need to know where the Circus is setting up shop, and I need to know now.”

The old fellow straightened up, dusting himself off.  ”Sorry about that, Lad.  Can’t be too careful ye know.  Uptown’s been lookin’ to shut us down for years.”  He handed him a slip of paper.  ”There you go.  Tell Tommy over at the Drunken Weasel that Lockwood sent ya and you get a discount on the drinks.”

“Yes, I will be sure to do so.  Thank you.”

The scribbled map lead him an hour out of town.  He had just been smacked in the face by the fifty seventh branch when he came upon the tent city.  There was no such thing as a truly honest merchant in the Points, however the Circus made Paradise Square look like Miss Nancy’s School for Girls.  Gas torches burned around the outskirts and a faint sound of a herdy gerdy.  Two rather large men greeted him as he approached.  ”Hello, Gentlemen.  I’m here for the Circus.”

The first one jabbed the tinker in the chest, “What makes ye think we gone let you in to see the show?”

The second held off his partner, “Let him in, Lucius.  He’s alright.”

“Thank you.  Do I know you from somewhere?”

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dockett arm beneath, “Owe you and the doc big time.  Go on in.”

His last trip there ended with an hour’s worth of bartering over the price of a difference engine while a heavily tattooed man swallowed swords behind him.  It was an experience he had hoped he would not need to repeat.  However, there were some things that were unavoidable.

“What you looking for, Slim?”

The jovial voice seemed out of place.  He looked at the man that wielded it. He was a smiling, young negro gentleman wearing a bright red coat and tails with gold appointments.  ”Oh.  Hello there.  I’m looking for Percy James.”

“Percy?  That’ll depend entirely on who’s asking, seems to me.”

“My name is SJ Thatch.”

“Oh well isn’t that something,” he said, tipping his hat forward.  ”Well, I’m the Queen of England.”

He bowed respectfully, “I must say it is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Without warning, the strange man leapt at him.  He could feel a sharp pain in his stomach.  He looked down frantically and saw the knife in his hand, “No, I ain’t stuck ya.  Not my way.  But if you want me to stay peaceable, you better tell me what business you have with Percy.  I’d hurry, though.  We had that ran a while back and it’s still rather slippery around here.  Accidents happen.”

He was stuttering frantically, trying to get words out. Think, SJ.  Get your wits.  Count them out.  Two men at the door. Six stalls, each with two vendors each.  One man with one very sharp knife. “I, I’ve come to t-t-t-tell him that his m-m-m-mother’s in a great deal of trouble.”

“How do you know my mother?”  It was another voice.  Softer, gentler than the overdressed thug.  However, behind the thin spectacles, SJ could see a familiar passion, and his tone belied the force he assumed dwelt just beneath the surface.

“Your mother is a friend of mine.  I knew her when she used to work for the Mayweathers.  I.”

The thug’s grip tightened and the bespectacled fellow, whom SJ then assumed to be Percy James, asked, “Don’t you say that name around here, Son.  We got no business with that crowd.”

“And even less with those at work for him.”

“I assure you I don’t work for the man.  Not after I found out what he was doing.  He’s dead, and I’m off to hunt his right hand man.  Your mother.  She was helping me, you see.  She wants him dead just as much as I do.  She went looking for him, but that was days now.  I’m not ashamed to say I’m starting to get worried.  She said she would send word back, even if she found nothing.”

“Let him go, Zeke.  He ain’t here for trouble.”  The thug released him, tucking his knife back in its sheath.  ”If Mama’s ridin’ the rails, there ain’t no surprise you haven’t heard from her.  There’s no knowin’ what you’ll find when you’re ridin’.  Especially if it’s strange country.”

“Oh, I suppose you have a point there.  But, you see, she promised me.  I’m not saying something has definitely happened to her, but I thought, her being your mother and all, you’d like to know.”

“I appreciate that, Sir.  Ain’t nobody ever looked after Mama before.  She always the one that’s looking after us.  I’m not saying I’ll do anything about your problems.  That’s your business, even if Mama’s with you.  But I’ll send word out.  If she’s really in trouble, we’ll find her.”

SJ released a heavy sigh of relief, “Thank heavens.  I’ve been worried, you see.  I, well, I would not be able to forgive myself if she were to.”  He paused a moment to collect his thoughts.  ”She was very special to someone.”

“Awful kind of you to say, Sir.  But if somebody’s got my mama treed — well, I’d be more worried for them.”

The tavern was bustling with activity.  But then, when wasn’t it?  ”Say that again, Kirkpatrick, and I swear I’ll kick you out of my bar so fast your head’ll spin.”

From a table in the back an unfamiliar voice shouted, “You got my head spinnin’ already, Lily!”  A roar billowed back up to the bar.

Lily Moravia ran the Red Gryphon since the doors opened, but nobody knows where the raven haired gypsy came from.  The way the boys told it, she dragged each stone in from the sea herself and wrestled a great squid for the keystone.  The truth was much more mundane, but she liked the tall tales.  Thrived on it.  With a leap she found herself on top of the bar.  ”It’s been a while, boys.  Who’s got a good one for me?”

Hands shot up in all directions with calls of “OOooh, right here, Lily” and “I’ve got the best one yet!”

She scanned the clawing patrons, teasing them all the while.  ”Listen, Bill, I let you go last week and you bored me half to death.  Never again.”  Her finger would light on a hopeful supplicant, only to dash his dreams with a gentle wag.  The doors opened and three strangers walked in.  She pointed at the stout fellow in front, “You.  The big fella.  Tell me a tale about how I got the Gryphon.  If it’s good, the next round’s on me.”

He tipped his derby up high on his head.  The flowery looker next to him chimed in, “I’m sorry, Miss, but I do not believe we know that one.”

She flicked a stray hair out of her face.  ”Claws down, Pretty Thing.  Don’t believe I was asking you.  I was asking your friend there.”  He held the woman back.  Lily thought to herself, Now that is a shame.  I was kinda hoping we’d tussle a bit.  She’s got fire.

His friend calmed down, but the man had barely moved.  He spoke in a cool, yet not unfriendly manner.  ”Lily Moravia was once the last of the great pirate queens.  She and her crew ran spices and slaves between here and the East Indies.  They still whisper about why she hung up her saber.  She made her fortune and is avoiding capture.  She never left the trade, choosing to sail under a new name with a new crew.  There was even one so terrible, most can’t even finish the story.”  He crossed his arms.  She could not turn from his eyes.  ”The truth, however, is that she just couldn’t stomach it anymore.  She sold the boat to her first mate and settled here.  The bar was half finished when she found it.  Seems the man started building it but didn’t have the money to finish.  Sold it cheap, and she built it up herself.  The reason the bar’s called the Red Gryphon?  Her boat was the Golden Gryphon, but there are some stains that will never wash off.”

Other than a few awkward rumbles, the room was deathly quiet.  If she did not say something soon there was going to be trouble.  She began to clap.  It started softly, growing into a riotous applause.  ”Did you hear that one?  You could take a lesson from this stranger, Bill.  THIS man knows how to tell a story.  Could you imagine, me a pirate queen?  I’ve never heard anything like it!  You know what?  It was so good, the next TWO rounds are on the house.  Drink up, boys.  Dread Lily the pirate queen’s orders!”

She held out a hand and let two of the boys lift her down from the bar.  Amidst cheers and a few drunken embraces, she made her way to the strangers at the door.  Her smile never broke as she spoke to them between her teeth, “Come with me.  Now.”

With the door locked behind her, she spoke freely, “How did you know?”

“You don’t remember me do you?”

She looked him over again. “Can’t say I do.”

“You’ve gotta remember, Lily.  Granted, that was 10 years and fifty pounds ago.”

Her jaw dropped.  Surely it couldn’t be.  ”Oh, God.  Jonannes?”

He bowed, removing his hat.  ”The one and only.”

“I’ve gotta say, Johannes.  You’ve really let yourself go.”

“Hold your tongue you.  None of us are as pretty as we used to be.  Though I have to admit,  you’ve done better than most of us.”

She could feel her cheeks flush.  He’s still got it. “So what brings you this way anyway?  I thought you were running out of Manhattan over to the old country.”

“Was.  But you know how things go.  The only thing that’ll never change.”

“Is that everything changes.” She finished his sentence for him.  ”Still, you must have a reason.  Nobody comes out this way without a reason.”

He put a sealed envelope on the table.  ”I need you to deliver a message for me.”

She took up the envelope and held it to the light.  ”I don’t know, Johannes.  Do I look like a pouch monkey to you?  I’m not in the delivery business.  Sure you could find a carrier over at the post office.  Whose it for?”

“You know who it’s for, Lily.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stood and unlocked the door.  He opened it to see his lady friend listening in.  The skinny little soldier boy watching her back.  He turned back to her and said, “When she comes by, tell her we’re headed up to Bodger’s place.  She can find us there when she gets done.”  And then he was gone.

She sat at her desk for a while, spinning th envelope in her hands.  ”I’m guessing you heard that then?”

She stepped out from behind the drapes.  The gears in her eye clicked and popped.  ”I heard enough.”

“You going after ‘em?”

She grabbed the envelope out of her hand.  ”Not yet.”

He had lost track of the days he spent locked in his cabin.  There would be occasional interruptions.  Little gnats flittered and buzzed about at his door.

“Captain, Sir, the repairs have held sufficiently.  I believe we can leave at your command.”

“I have made up a plate for you, Johannes.  Come and eat.”

“Captain, there’s trouble flowing in and out of that bar like the tide.  I’ll hit anything that moves, sure, but if a mob comes for us.  Well, we need more ammunition is all I’m saying.”

And that was how it went.

He pulled the dusty bottle from his desk.  How long it had sat there he could not say.  He discovered it the day he had taken control of the Adolphus.  He had taken it out of the drawer many times over the years, letting it rock back and forth in his hand.  Elaborate swirls lined the neck, culminating in a great seal pressed into wax.

His thoughts were interrupted by the crack of timber and a brash thud.  He was not surprised that the slender, masked woman stood in the doorway.  “What on God’s green shit-pile do you think you’re doing?”

“Hello, Val.  It’s a pleasure to see you again.  What brings you to Manhattan?”

“What did you do?  I’ve not been in town for more than a few days and you’ve stirred up a devil of a hornets’ nest out there.”

He rocked the bottle back and forth in his hand, letting its contents swirl and bubble ever so slightly.  “I had a visit from a ghost, and crossed a bridge I thought I’d burned a long time ago.”

“Tell me, Bosch,” she said, laying her mask down on the table, “Do you speak in riddles and poetry solely to frustrate me, or are you always this pretentious?”

He could feel a fire start to burn inside him, lifting him off his chair.  “Listen, Val, we’ve been through quite a bit, but don’t think you’ve earned the right to insult me on my own boat.”

“Oh, yes.  The great and mighty Johannes Bosch,” she said glaring at him, “or should I say Red John the Hellhound?”

He could not hide the brimstone in his tone, “You shut your mouth.  Don’t you dare speak that name to me.”

“Or what?  You going to bash my skull to a bloody mess like that hunk of meat they once called a man down in the Bonnie Claire?  You don’t have the sand for it.”

Bosch met her gaze for a bit, but eventually slumped back into his chair.  “You’re right.”

In an instant she jumped onto the desk and gave him a sharp crack across his face.  “I’m not right, you idiot.”

He rubbed his cheek, Valentina perched atop his desk like a rare bird of prey.  ”Hold on, hold on.  So you insult me, call me weak, and then smack me when I agree with you?”

“Sounds about right.  You’re a good man.  That’s why you wouldn’t hit me.  Not because you’re a coward. “  She jabbed his chest with her finger.  “Never forget that.”

Without thinking, his eyes went to the bottle again.  “Not all that good.”

She snatched it up, positioning herself on the edge of the desk.  “What’s this now?”  She inspected it.  “Oh yeah, I know this.  It’s Russian, I think.  Hearty stuff.  The sort that will scrub your pipes clean for a month.  Your baroness give you that one?”

He grabbed it from her hand.  “Leave it alone, Val.”

She gave him a nod.  “Alright then.  It’s your bottle.  You can do with it what you will.  Seems like it’s an old bottle.  Might be pretty good by now.”

“Didn’t know you were such a connoisseur.”

“Oh, I’ve been known to have some from time to time.  It wasn’t a coincidence that my office was in the back of a bar.  Thing I found out about wine, though, is that if you leave it sit too long it just becomes vinegar.  The trick is to let it sit long enough to age properly, but to drink it up before it rots.”

A question was bubbling in his mind.  Something he didn’t understand. “Why did you come looking for me?”

She fiddled with the door, now barely hanging on its hinges.  “Good question.  Truth be told, I could have gone anywhere.  Could have gone back into hiding again.  The Society wasn’t looking for me.  If anything, coming to find you might just end up getting me killed.”

“But you didn’t.”

She paused before coming back to fetch her mask.  “I always pay my debts, Bosch.”

He was confused and could not hide the look on his face.  “You don’t owe me anything.  You’ve been a great help to us.  We know more now than we could have dreamed because of you.”

She placed her mask back on her face.  “I never said it was you.”  As she left, she continued over her shoulder.  “You cannot run from your past, Bosch, but you can’t deny it either.”

The room was silent.  He looked at the bottle, brushing away what remained of the dust across the wax seal.   He reached into the desk again and pulled out a corkscrew.  He could hear the shot again, as if he were once again back on that horrible day, the cork coming loose.  He held it up to the light, brushed a tear from his eye and whispered, “This is for you, Jim.”

His throat burned as the wine rushed through his chest.  He reached for the tube, shouting into it, “Heinrich!”

The tinny voice that responded was clearly caught off guard, “Yes, Captain?”

“Have Stanton cut the lines.  We head North to Maine by way of Connecticut.”

“Will do, Captain.”

“Alright.  Fire up number two again, Heinrich.  We’ll have the old boy up and running again by dark.”

They could do nothing but wait, checking dials and watching pipe joints.  After days of effort, the men shared tired looks of accomplishment.  Pressure was rising steadily, and the new flue was working like a charm.  Bosch wiped his brow.  He would have SJ calibrate his more delicate systems, but they were airborne once again.  A smile had begun to creep its way back across his face.

“I think we did it, Sir.”

“I believe you’re right.  Stay here and keep an eye on the gauges.  I’m going on deck to make sure the ballast repairs are holding.  Call me on the tubes if the pressure starts to drop.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He was pleased to see the bag inflate, rectifying the hideous tilt they had been dealing with.  He was checking the seals on the pitch and canvas patch job when he heard shouts from the ground below.  ”Bosch?”  There was an unwelcome familiarity to the voice.  A long forgotten nightmare that rattled inside his mind.  ”Johnnie!  Come out and say hi te your old pal, Charlie.”

He leaned over the railing to see Stanton held at gunpoint.  He could barely make out the shadowy figure, but the voice and the hand cannon were unmistakable.  ”Hello, Charles.  I don’t appreciate you drawing a gun on my man.  Are you alright, Stanton?”

“Been better, Captain, but I’m alright.”

“Don’t feel too bad about that one, my boy.  You’re not the first one to get took by old Darkwater Charlie Barker.”  He pressed the metal into you young man’s cheek, looking up at him, “Why don’t you come down and have a chat.”

“Sorry, Charles, if I don’t exactly trust you.”

“Always the careful one, eh, Johnnie?  Can’t hardly blame ya, though.  Very well then.  Come down ‘ere, have a bit of a chat with me, and I swear by the old code I won’t harm you or your man.  Just want to have a sit down with old Red John.”

“What the devil does that mean, Johannes?  The ‘old code?’ ‘Red John?’”  He had not even noticed the Baroness’ approach, “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Johannes.  All the shouting.  You did not think I could stay away.”

He did not look at her as he responded, “Keep to the ship.”

“But, Johannes.”

“Keep to the ship, Sam.  Do not question me on this.”  He did not mean to speak as gruffly as he did, though it apparently worked.  He moved past her to the lift.  A rickety contraption that rattled its way to the ground, he was happy when he finally touched down.  He got a better look at Charles.  He still wore the ragged top hat from the last time he had seen him, a raggedy thing that hung together by a pompous refusal to die.  It suited him.

He looked over his round spectacles, “Ah, now isn’t that better?  I was afraid I was about te lose my voice from the shoutin’.”

“Make good on your word, Charles.  Let him go.”

He let Stanton go with a shove.  The soldier stumbled as he caught Bosch.  ”Sorry, Captain.  Couldn’t see him.”

“No shame in it, Stanton.  Charles is not your average thug.  Head up to the ship and see if Heinrich needs any help.  If the nose dips, drop the line.”  He gave the captain a nod to show he understood the subtle command.  Bosch could continue confident that Stanton would be on the bow, ready to put a bullet through the old grifter’s head if he gave the word.

As the lift rattled and popped its way back up, he turned back to their guest.  ”What do you want?”

“Now is that any way te greet your old pal Charlie?  Let’s go down to the Bonnie Claire.  I’m better talkin’ over a pint of that sewer swill.”

“I’d thank you to talk here.  Don’t trust my ship in this place.”

“Stop bein’ a baby, Bosch.  I’m a very important man now.  Nobody’ll touch yer boat if I don’ want ‘em to, an’ I’ve business with you, not old Bailey’s boat.”

At the sound of that name, Bosch rushed him, but he was soon looking down the barrels of Banshee.  Charles’ handmade, tri-barreled, steam shot nightmare was not something he missed.  ”Don’t think tha’ just because I invoked the old code I won’t gun ye down if you vex me, Bosch.  Now then, shall we?”

They made their way to the bar.  The whole process made him uneasy, but he’d invoked the code.  He had little choice.  The Bonnie Claire was a typical dock worker dive.  Dirty, rough, and full of folks that would as soon spill your insides across the floor as look at you.  Charles threw up his hands to a great cheer from the patrons.  ”Give us two a the good stuff would ye, Harry?”

The bartender put two cups of a dark brew in front of them.  Charles lifted up his glass.  ”To the memory of the Dock Wolves.  May they hunt forever.”

Bosch took a drink, gagging on the vile liquid.  ”What do you want from me, Charlie?  How many years has it been without a word, and now you’re barking at my boat?”

He took a long sip on his drink, causing him to hold a hand on his hat.  ”Can ye blame a man fer gettin’ nostalgic?  I’ve not seen ye, Johnnie boy, since the ye left us to go off with that preacher.  What was ‘is name again?  Grover?  Granger?”

“Gander.  Reverend Jeremiah Gander.”

“Gander, tha’s it.  What a posch piece a shite he was.  Don’t know what you saw in him.”

Bosch nursed his drink, watching it stick to the sides of his glass as he swirled it about.  ”It’s what he saw in me. You should have come with me, Charles.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much fer church’n, Johnnie.  You know that.  But now I’ve got me own congregation.  Ain’t that right fellas?”  The bar roared again.  ”I’m tryin’ to build the pack again, Johnnie.  When I saw the old boy floatin’ up over my docks, well, I thought I might be able to convince ya to be my second.”

“The Dock Wolves are dead, Charles.  You and I are all the remain, and I closed that book long ago.  I’ll have no part in it.”  He stood, tossing a few coins on the bar, “Thanks for the drink.  I’ll be going back to my boat now.”

He walked towards the door, Darkwater shouting after him, “Don’t think you’re so much better than us.  Red John the hellhound.  No matter how hard and fast ye run from it, ye can’t get away from who you are.  You stood right with us in the dirt, shit, and blood, Johannes.  I know you’ve got the Uptowners and the mid-folk kissin’ your ass, but you’re no hero.  Go back to old Bailey’s boat and rot for what I care.”

He stopped at the name again.

“Tha’s right.  Jim Bailey.  Remember how ‘e pissed and moaned when you put that bullet through his belly?  Awful thing to get shot in the gut.  It’s a slow way te die.  Plenty a’ time to stare death in the face, when you ain’t doubled over from the pain.  I was the one gave him the mercy shot to the head.  You just sat there watching that boy suffer.”

Bosch made no sound, but jumped his former partner faster than he could pull Banshee.  His fists pounding like hammers, he did not stop.  There was a wet, slopping sound to his punches.  After a while, Charles wasn’t fighting him anymore.  He left him there on the floor, standing before silent patrons.  ”Never invoke the old code to me again, Charlie.  The code is dead, and so are the wolves.  Leave ‘em dead.”

Not a sound was made as he walked out the door and back to the ship.  When he got back to the boat, the Baroness greeted him first, her eyes going to his bloodied knuckles, “What have you done, Johannes?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”  He was fighting back tears to various success.

“Miss Montrose has come to see you, but let me bandage those up for your first.”

“I’m fine, Sam.  I’m fine.”

“Which leads me to my purpose here, my good man,” he said, tapping his fingers against the top of his cane.  ”Will you look boldly into the future, or will you remain trapped beneath the boot of the foolish decisions of your predecessors?”

The bulbous gas bag behind the desk twirled at his mustache, trying to coax a response from it.  ”You see, Sir, you are not versed in the way of these things.”

“What are you getting at, Tulane?”

Harlan Tulane leaned forward.  He had been the face of Tammany Hall for the past two years, wearing the position like an ill-fitting suit coat he refused to throw away.  ”What you are asking me to do is political suicide.  To cast aside the immigrants and the downtown voters would basically eliminate any chance of ever holding public office for the party.  No, Sir.”

“You would rise to power on the backs of the filthy rats that come off the boats?”

“Every blessed voter among them.”

It was difficult to hide the disgust on his face.  He had always known the weasels of Tammany Hall to be scheming simpletons, willing to compromise all manner of decency for the illusion of authority.  But this fat man was chief among them.  ”Well then, Mr. Tulane.  Harlan.  May I call you Harlan?  Harlan, let me speak in a language that you can understand.  What if I were to promise you the island of Manhattan will vote Democrat in every election?”

“Well, my friend, I believe it already does.”  He was posturing now, proud of his accomplishments.

He stood, wiping dust off of the mantel.  ”For now.  Let us not dance around the issue at hand, Harlan.  You and I both know that since the death of William Tweed, your precious Tammany Hall has been continually losing its ground in the polls.  My god, man, you nearly lost the district to a Republican just last year.  Your own district.  No.  The days of Tammany dominance are quickly fading away unless you make a stand to pick this place out of the filth.”

He watched the wind fade from his sails.  The posturing peacock was proving to be more like a costumed pigeon.  ”It seems you have me at a disadvantage, Sir.  Tell me, more about this plan of yours.”

“You would never have to get your hands dirty.  All you need to do is to put together an inquiry into the recent “troubles” they have had in the Five Points.”

“That tower business? I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.  I don’t really go downtown myself.”

“Indeed.  Terrible tragedy.  Lives needlessly lost and such.  It would be a shame if more buildings were to collapse.  Structures that do not meet a strict code should be torn down before they inevitably follow suit.”

“And I assume that one of your boys would be placed in charge of such inquiries?”

He rubbed the dirt between his thumb and forefinger.  Pig. “I do have several assayers and inspectors on my payroll that would be happy to offer up their services on my command.  For the good of the city, of course.”

He waved his hand, “Naturally.  And what, pray tell, would you have me do with those who might be — displaced when your committee feels their homes unsafe?”

“Relocation, of course.  While repairs are being made, they would be escorted to designated housing.  It would be a shame, with real estate at a premium, they would have to leave.  I’m sure they will be so happy with their new homes that they will not want to return.  And, given current regulations, if buildings are abandoned, they become property of the state, to do as you would see fit.”

“And I could sell them off to pay for new programs to provide for the displaced populace.  If only I could find a buyer.”

“I believe that could be arrange, Mr. Tulane.”

“And if some of the money were to be marked for special projects,” he picked up his pen, twirling it between his sausage like fingers.

“Who could blame you?  A man must do his utmost for the benefit of the greater good.”

“I like you, Mr. Faraday.  I was a bit leery at first, but you show a great deal of promise.  I feel this partnership will serve this great city of well.  Tell me, have you ever considered political appointment?”

“Oh no,” he said, wiping his hands with a handkerchief before tossing it into the fire, “I do not have a taste for it.  I leave that sort of thing to fine fellows such as yourself.”

“Ah, well.  Perhaps it is for the best.  I will draft the proposition and push it through the proper channels.  We should be able to start the ball rolling within a week or so.”  He poured two glasses of scotch and offered him one, “Will you join me in a drink then?”

He lifted the glass, “To the greater good.”

“To the greater good.”  He took a deep drink.  ”Ah, now that is good.”

“Good day, Harlan.  Let me know when plans have been made ready.”

He left the office and a young man waited for him outside.  He helped the gentleman into his coat.  ”Did all go according to plan, Sir?”

Geoffrey straightened his collar.  ”Yes.  I daresay it went as well as was to be expected.  There will be the usual hemming about by the politicians, but Harlan Tulane is not one to shy away from an opportunity to make himself a pile of money.  I aim to make him a very rich man.”

“And the Points?”

“That festering boil will be cut from the face of this great nation.”

“What would you have me do, Sir?”

“Your job.  Your task remains the same.  You will keep me abreast of the tinker’s movements.  I am curious to see what he will do once his world begins to crumble around him.”

“Certainly, Sir. As you wish.”