on the subject. But you have to admit, he had some bright ideas for what passed for camaraderie.’
Franco sat on these words and nodded slowly to himself in agreement. ‘You think I was too harsh.’
‘Making orphans of our own isn’t family-like to me.’
‘Have you forgotten the part where she’s thrown us to this individual to cover her own ass?’
‘Who are you trying to convince with that?’ Jacques queried. ‘You heard her talk. On all accounts this Wilheim character is nasty to the boots and you’re dead set on punishing her. I think you’re under the assumption that she had something resembling a choice.’
‘She did! Don’t use the excuse that fear prevented her from making any sort of better outcome. Misu is the furthest thing from weak. There is nothing that woman can’t do. I know her.’ The glass landed heavily on the veneer as he trailed off. ‘Or at least I assumed I did.’
‘I don’t know, Franco.’ Jacques stretched himself to take his leave. ‘Fear does something to a person; I’ve seen it with my two own. Makes them not see quite right. Can’t blame a person for acting rash. With no way out, who knows what any of us would do?’
* * *
Franco slept stretched across a seat one would assume only a cat would find comfortable. His rasping snore became a monotonous routine, one that would have woken Jacques, if it he wasn’t already fully awake, eyes staring into darkness as he lay with his hands behind his head for a pillow. He turned, murmuring in irritation, verbalizing every thought in a monotone grunts.
He rose, in the darkness, to a bang and a thump. It was not in the lounge car where they were situated. It was the sound of a trapdoor banging from the next carriage down, a noise that echoed through one of the cluttered storage cars.
Half-dressed and bleary-eyed, he moved to the door, silently stepped out into the night, and then eased open the handle to the next car along. He moved inside, to enquire after the owner.
Wyld was not around when Misu had been expelled from the train. In fact, she had been missing for a good few hours beforehand, gallivanting with whatever criminality she needed to. Now, she had slipped in the under trapdoor, beneath the car, securing its bolt with a slap. Her eyes snapped to Jacques, assessing his entrance. The man stepped further in.
‘Most people knock you know.’ Wyld narrowed her eyes. ‘I may be unaccounted for, but that doesn’t mean I don’t exist. A little consideration if you please.’
‘And for that, I apologize. This is important.’
‘What’s the matter?’
Jacques cleared his throat behind a fist. ‘Misu is gone.’
* * *
‘Gone, gone?’
‘Franco kicked her off. She’s been seeing some men without our knowledge, sneaking out at night, things like that.’
‘Men.’ Wyld pouted, silently alarmed at this news. ‘I didn’t think Franco was the jealous type. He doesn’t own her. I didn’t even think they were a thing.’
‘They’re not. You misunderstand,’ Jacques corrected flatly. ‘Not men like that. Wilheim Fort’s men.’
Wyld’s face fell in shock. Instantly Jacques was upon her. The reaction had given him all he needed to challenge her. ‘I knew it. You know something about this.’
‘I don’t, I swear!’
‘Don’t lie to me!’ Jacques stormed across the floor, every hollow thud of his boots a death knell.
‘I’m not! I know nothing about that woman Misu, nothing at all! I tried to speak to her a couple of times, but it was if she looked right through me. I accept those notions from you people. I know I’m not exactly the wanted type here. I know I’m expendable and the moment trouble breaks you’ll hand me over in a second to save your own behinds!’ She snapped her fingers in anger, surprising even herself at the venom.
‘You really think that?’
‘I’m disposable, right? We all are. Franco just proved it. If you think I somehow know whatever game Misu is playing, because of the company I have to keep, you can think again.’ Wyld’s voice broke as she trailed off. Her blazing eyes momentarily softened.
‘But?’ Jacques probed.
‘But …’ Wyld turned and strode towards him. ‘I can tell you what I do know, and you only had to ask. When I sold something off, I had a long conversation with a buyer who told me everything. I know all about this Wilheim Fort character. You don’t do what I do without finding out the lay the land. I know plenty about who he is, his dealings – and I’m telling you, from what I’ve been told, you do not want to get tangled up in that mess. Wilheim is more shades of wrong than you could ever know.’
Jacques, now deflated of his anger, wearily sat himself on a crate of supplies where she quietly joined him. They both sighed, silently, before Jacques nodded in agreement to himself.
‘Then tell me everything,’ he said.
Wyld did so, elaborating on every piece of fact and hearsay that she had acquired. Muddick, shuffling stolen goods through his premises, was the first to warn her of Wilheim’s presence when she arrived, cautioning her that the city was not to be trusted. Eyes were everywhere, as were knives, and encroaching on his operations ensured your disappearance. Businesses, hangouts, even individuals who were being bribed to ignore such things, Wyld had a treasure trove of information to divulge and did so, at length, until dawn cracked the sky to a pale glow.
Show of Hand
The night was cool, heavy with the day’s dissipated heat. The streets were empty apart from the occasional cheering of drinkers from the taverns that Misu passed. She walked in a slouch, shoes dragging over path and road. Drifted sand collected in deposits, forcing her to step around, each step slowly advancing down the road, though she had no idea where it would lead her.
In the oldest district of Windberg, where buildings had been built on top of one another in ramshackle fashion, instead of being demolished to make way for cleaner developments, Misu stared at the local inns, hoping that one window wouldn’t be populated with a no vacancy sign.
She had enough money in her possession for a few nights’ accommodation, but the further she ventured, the worse the premises became. Some of these cramped, dirty inns needed a stroke of new paint. The best for others would be repeated strikes of a wrecking ball.
Misu cringed, passing a particularly rowdy establishment known as the Black Thistle, where a fight previously contained in its walls had started to spill out from its doorway. When the disagreement between two individuals exploded into a full brawl, Misu darted down the nearest alleyway to avoid any unwanted attention. A showgirl from the Den could be the focus of many, and the depravity of some.
Misu calmed herself and trotted down the alley until the cheers faded and the police whistles stopped. And in the shadow, she saw the face of someone, who counted their
