A procession of attractive women like this turned many heads, with some of the braver men approaching to try their luck. The girls were professionals and teased as only they could, suggesting that the men come to the performance and maybe they would share a drink together. Coy flicks of the hair and the slow batting of lashes brought a flush out in the cheeks of the brave. Jacques chuckled to himself. Never had he known such a talented collection of deviants, each hired by Franco to seduce on a whim.
The carts groaned to a stop outside Central Station, their manpower now beginning to unload crate, barrel, and sack into the street. The giggling procession of showgirls sorted through tobacco and coal and bread, until finding the luxuries packed away. A box of sweet liquorice was hastily unwrapped from a bag of confectionary, its bow pulled loose and the contents passed around. The girls found no better way to celebrate their arrival to a new city than to find its local delicacies.
Jacques organized the shop hands to Platform 4, taking the service doors up a succession of stairs and was about to take a sack himself until a familiar shape approached in the glare of the midday sun.
Misu advanced, head down and obviously troubled in her thoughts. She moved on the wind like the scattered sands that haunted every roadside. Burdens straddled her shoulders, riding her conscience like a mule. The usual elegant air that the woman exuded had drifted away and despite being dressed in her finery, it was all for nothing. She may as well have been a stone covered in flowers.
‘If it isn’t our Jewel herself,’ Jacques stated. The canvas sack over his shoulder was adjusted with a quick pat. ‘Have you attended to your business?’
Her hazel eyes squinted in question.
‘The girls told me that you went to see some old friends,’ he added. ‘Others with your looks and demeanour. My word, what a sight that would be.’
All Misu could do was fumble through the lie as best she could. ‘Yes. Old friends, you know. People who we could be if things were different.’
‘And you neglected to invite me.’ His bravado was a welcome balm to the unspoken troubles. ‘Well, is there any chance of you helping us get all this on board? There’s another delivery to come too. We may have just used up all of the carts.’
Burlap sacks were piled up, crates stacked, and before long the Den was restocked with necessities. Alcohol was deemed to be one of these – bottles clinked as each crate was placed in a storage car. Conversation between Jacques and Misu turned to prices, the rocketing cost of oil, and Jacques’s bartering skills.
In the end he’d saved quite an amount of coin by smooth-talking. Luckily for him most shopkeepers had their daughters working the stores and for one as charming as he, a kind word here and there ensured a saving. The difference was soon brought up, and while it was believed that Franco would want it returned, Misu had a far more attractive suggestion. The prospect of the showgirls visiting the nearest silkery was enough for Jacques to hand it over. It was, in his excitable words, for the greater good.
Though more urgent matters postponed this visit. At the steps of the station loading bay stood the delivery boys and their carts, all unpacked and waiting for the pair’s arrival. Time was, as they say, money, and any delay did not help some of the goods that easily spoiled in the midday heat.
‘Hey! What’s the holdup for?’ Jacques patted the shoulder of the closest courier, no older than thirteen at his guess. The boy declined to speak but instead gestured through the loading doors where the Gambler’s Den’s storage cars were swamped with attention.
Among the heaving throngs of blue-suited constabulary flanking the train stood Franco, disillusioned and barking angry. He was obviously arguing, tossing his arms about, though withheld himself from any pointing. Misu and Jacques kept their distance, busying themselves until he marched over, red-faced and furious.
‘A warrant!’ Franco spat, waving the papers in a fist. ‘The sheriff came back with a damn warrant to check us over from top to bottom.’
‘You couldn’t refuse him?’ Jacques asked as he approached.
‘Did my head of security just ask whether we could hold back search papers?’
‘No,’ Jacques hurriedly corrected. ‘I mean, could you have, you know –’ His suggestion was coupled with a rubbing of thumb and fingers. Bribery. It opened many doors in this line of work. Some downright expected it as part of the job.
‘If I could of, I would have,’ Franco dismissed, pacing the platform and eyeing up every constable acting sentry.
Alex Juniper stepped down from the carriage and patted its side, more patronizing than anything else. Placing his hands on its exterior was a clear sign of defiance to Franco, one both clearly acknowledged by each party.
‘Quite the costly one you have here, son,’ Juniper stated with a hiss through his teeth. ‘No expense spared for sure. Quite the coin to deck her out I would say.’
‘What are you getting at, sheriff?’ Franco asked. The pleasantries were now over. ‘If it is an accusation, please do come out with it. My time is valuable.’
Juniper stepped before him, towering over Franco, his height clearly a good half foot in advantage. The steel at his hip rattled in its holster with every stride, a dangerous reminder of the severity of this matter.
‘Your time is worthless while I have your little travelling show here, and it will be a spell until we’ve thoroughly searched it. Your floozies can be on their backs, on the clock, when I decide. I think we’ll have to take a while as …’ Juniper scanned each face before him, assessing the guilt. Misu gritted her teeth in frustration, fists clenched and almost shaking. ‘Given the company you keep, I think it’s best that we are thorough.’
Franco stuffed the warrant into his trouser pocket as a revelation struck. ‘Of course. You think we had something to do with that business in Rustec, don’t you?’
Juniper sneered, a creeping, horrid smile that twisted his features and stressed wrinkles of age.
‘That’s an accusation there, not one that we have made. You are assuming things, Franco.’
‘You don’t need to play this game with me. I’ve dealt with your kind before.’ Beneath his mousy auburn fringe, Franco had made an unspoken challenge. It was risen to immediately.
‘Dealt with my kind?’ Juniper seethed. ‘I assure you, lad, you have not seen the likes of me. So you can keep up with that smart talk all you want. Until I’m happy that every inch of your vehicle is on the level, consider it impounded.’
Misu cursed in disbelief.
‘We’ve got a show to do tonight! You can’t do this!’
‘Don’t be telling me what I can and cannot do in my city. Unless you want to waste more of this valuable time of yours, I suggest you get out of our way and find somewhere to sleep for the night. Don’t be going too far, mind. I’ll surely be wanting to talk to you after. Men!’ Juniper called to those in earshot, each boot striking in attention. ‘You have orders that if anyone interferes with your search, clap them in irons and drag them to the cells.’
Misu pressed herself against Franco, whose eyes and mind were elsewhere, and made an attempt of reassurance. It was for naught, as he brushed away her hands and concern,
