him. He turned to see a group of Brown’s men running his way. He threw himself through the nearest doors of the station and once inside zigzagged through benches and luggage carts. Out front there were other vehicles parked around his, so he had a few seconds of cover. When he pulled away, shots were fired and a couple hit his door panel. He raced out of the parking lot and headed west out of the city.
Was it only a year ago that he had left Monroe? It had been a tough decision. He remembered coming to it after a series of compromises: first a job, then a match or two, and a life on my own terms. Then and only then would he make peace with his father and brother.
So where did things sit now?
He had become a mercenary for another gang in the syndicate, fallen in love with the gang leader’s girl, stolen her away, and deserted his post. It seemed like his life was forever spiralling out of control. Had it always been like this? He was heading home yet again. Would it be different this time? Had Sophie awakened something in him? Possibly.
The sun was setting. He hit the accelerator and passed every vehicle he came upon. It occurred to him that Brown now knew Sophie’s whereabouts and destination and could intercept her at any station between Hamilton and Montreal. Jack had left her completely exposed.
FIRST GEAR
(SUNDAY, JULY 23, 1922)
— Chapter 8 —
A LITTLE STRAGGLING HAMLET
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