Red Dog Conspiracy, Act 1

The Jacq of Spades-7

“And my cigarettes, please.”

He returned in a few moments with both, and lit a cigarette for me.

I drank a couple glasses while I smoked and read the Bridges Daily editorial section once again. I thought I might like to talk with this reporter, Thrace Pike.

Why speak with this annoyance?

He interested me. I wanted to meet the man, to hear his thoughts. Did he truly want to overthrow the current regime, or was he unaware of the implications of his work? Did he pose a threat, or was he a rash young man destined to meet a shower of bullets in an alley? I wasn’t sure, and I needed to learn if he was an ally or an enemy before whatever he planned affected my life.

The Visit

Dirty snow lay beside the road on the way to the Kerr residence. Mist drifted through the trees, even though the sun stood at high noon, a pale ball behind the clouds.

The Spadros quadrant was the southeast of the city. The Hart quadrant, where Mr. Kerr lived, was the northwest. So we rode through Spadros quadrant, across the bridge to Market Center, then over the bridge to Hart. Thorny hedges, wrought iron, and patrolling guards kept the reality of the Pot and slums from view.

The Kerr twins and I grew up together. I felt glad to see both of them again, for very different reasons. But they reminded me of my home and all I had lost. “I have never been to Mr. Kerr’s home. Is it far?”

Tony said, “Just in the fair part of Hart … not too far.”

“How fortunate for Mr. Kerr that he was moved to the Hart lands.” Why Hart, when Mr. Kerr lived the majority of his life in the Spadros portion of the Pot? No one entered a Family’s area from their Pot without paying a steep price. It was unheard of for one Family to take another’s Pot rag. Was this the insult which caused Roy Spadros to hate Charles Hart so? That seemed excessive even for Roy. But I did wonder what great boon Mr. Kerr gave the Harts in exchange for such a release.

“Mr. Kerr has done well,” Tony said. “An old man shouldn’t have to languish in the Pot, especially one with such a distinguished heritage.”

I stared at Tony. Did he mock the Kerrs? He seemed sincere.

Anthony Spadros: so different from his father at times, and at other times, very like. He could be ruthless, and also kind; vicious, yet also gentle. I often didn’t understand Tony, or why he did what he did. Even his words the night before didn’t fully explain his actions.

“Why did you marry me?”

Tony took my hand in his and kissed it. “Because I love you.”

His answer, while on the surface, fine, bordered on madness. No one in Tony’s position married for love.

Why did Roy Spadros agree to it, nay, encourage it? I was no grand lady; I was a nobody — worse, a Pot rag, an untouchable, raised in a brothel, trained as a w***e.

Most people in the Pot grew up in a brothel. And yes, Ma taught me the work. But she never let me do any, even when men asked for me. At the time, it made me unhappy, because I felt different than the other girls. She said the Masked Man wouldn’t like it.

Who was the Masked Man? Some whispered he was a quadrant money-man. I never learned his identity until much later, but even as a small girl I knew he was important.

I remembered the way I saw him as a child. Capable, larger than life, his dark cloak and clean scent billowed into the room ahead of him. His brown leather mask showed light skin around warm blue eyes. The way the Masked Man moved said don’t test me, and no one ever did.

When I was young, I hoped the Masked Man was my daddy. He treated me kindly, and took an interest in me. I liked when he came to see us.

The whole situation puzzled me. I didn’t understand why he hid his face, why he visited, why he took such interest in me. Yet many years later, here I sat, married to the second most powerful man in Bridges, riding in a carriage fit for a queen, pulled by the finest carriage-horses in the land. Perhaps this was what the Masked Man intended.

I felt Tony watching me. If anything, he was attentive. “You don’t mind going out on a holiday?”

“Not at all. It gives the staff a day of rest.”

He let go of my hand and turned to the window. “You are too kind to them, Jacqui … you think too much of them. You must be careful, or they will take advantage. They are your servants, not your friends.”

“Look, she fancy,” Poignee said as I passed.

I felt appalled. “What did you say?”

“Don’t put on them airs. You damn lucky but you a Pot rag, same as us.”

Treysa and Ottilie snickered.

“I understand.” I did understand. It didn’t stop me from treating them as people. I don’t think Tony saw them that way.

“I’m sure you’re glad to see your playmates again after all these years,” he said. “I was allowed very few.”

I stared at him, mouth open, and grasped his hand. I had forgotten about his older brother, the true Spadros heir, poisoned when Tony was two. No one spoke of the child, and I had never even learned his name.

“Ten was the only one my father allowed near me.” Tony smiled, as if thinking of pleasant times long ago.

“Ten?”

“Ten Hogan … Sawbuck.”

I stared at him until I remembered the imposing fellow at the ball, Tony’s “right hand man.” In truth, I saw the man very seldom. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“Everyone called him Sawbuck … we had another cousin Ten, and everyone confused them. He’s my mother’s sister’s son.” He paused, then laughed. “I suppose no one ever told you!”

“I knew you were related, of course, but not in what way.” Sawbuck looked nothing like Molly; I wondered what his parents were like.

“From the first time Ten learned about my brother, oh, I was two or three so he must have been eight, or perhaps nine … when he heard of it, he said he would watch over me, that he would never let anyone hurt me. He has kept his word.” Tony leaned his arm on the window’s edge, and leaned his face on his hand. “It’s still strange that he calls me ‘sir,’ even now, but my father would have nothing else.” He stared out of the window.

How odd the situation must feel. “It sounds lonely.”

Tony smiled, and shook his head. “It is of no consequence.” He squeezed my hand. “We are safe, and so shall our children be. I shall make sure of that.”

I leaned back, glad for my morning tea, as dangerous as it might be if anyone learned of it. I would never bring children to a world where they might become targets for an assassin.

Hart quadrant’s streets and sidewalks were made of closely laid red brick, with curbs painted white. Joseph and Josephine Kerr greeted our carriage. Josephine wore a pale blue morning dress and a gray shawl. Joe wore a gray blazer and vest, with navy blue pinstriped pants.

I think.

I couldn’t tear myself away from his eyes.

But then Joe shook Tony’s hand, and I remembered others were present.

Joe cleared his throat, color rising in his cheeks. “Would you like a tour? Our home isn’t grand as yours, but it’s sufficient.”

The Kerr’s row house sat on the corner, made of brown stone. It had white molding around the archway and polished wrought-iron railings. Wood paneling and tile graced the front hall. The housekeeper, a middle-aged lady, met us at the door: Marja, my kitchen maid Ottilie’s mother. She nodded her head to me.

Joe asked, “Is Mr. Kerr ready for visitors?”

“Aye,” the woman said, “he’s in the parlor. I’ve set a fire for you. Luncheon will be ready in a bit.”

“Thank you, Marja.” Josie turned to me and Tony. “Grampa is a bit gruff, but he means well.”

Tony and I smiled at each other, used to Roy and his rages.

I had never met the Kerrs’ grandfather. He took the twins in after I went to Spadros Manor that final time: they called it “finishing.” This was training on how to live where people wore clean clothes, took baths, and ate with something other than their fingers, when they ate at all.

I found my finishing painful and confusing. I can’t imagine what it was like for them, having never set foot outside the Pot until then.

From Joe’s description, I expected Polansky Kerr IV to be a gray, frail man wearing a robe and slippers. I felt pleasantly surprised to meet a ruddy, well-groomed gentleman. Mr. Kerr kissed my hand and chatted with us without so much as a cane to lean on. “My grandchildren speak of you often, Mrs. Spadros, so I feel as if I know you already.”

I wondered where the gruffness Josie spoke of was. But then even Roy seldom raged in front of company when first met. I smiled at Mr. Kerr. “I hope to make actual acquaintance.”

Marja came in. “Luncheon is served, sir.”

“Come,” Joe said, “we don’t have a chef as you must, but Marja’s cooking is quite good.”

Mr. Kerr took my arm, Tony took Josie’s, and we went into the dining room.

Joe was right; the food was quite good, the meal and wine, light and flavorful. But Joe spoke truth on another matter. The china, while antique, was mismatched and chipped. The house was small, old, and in need of a decorator’s touch. Some of the silverware had been bent and imperfectly straightened. The table cloth was threadbare in spots. Not grand as ours, but sufficient.

Tony took a drink of wine, leaning back in his chair and spoke to the twins. “Congratulations on attending the Grand Ball.” He turned to Mr. Kerr. “You must be very proud.”

Mr. Kerr smiled. “Why, thank you. I’m much indebted to Mr. Charles Hart for his generous invitation.” He paused. “I hope it’s a sign of greater things to come.” He became animated, moving his arms as he spoke. “My grandfather told me many times of when he was a boy, how beautiful the city used to be, how Benjamin Kerr raised the dome and sunk the pilings, lo these 500 years ago. The gardens, the bridges of gold, the buildings … a magnificent creation it was then.” His lined face became that of a man transfixed with the wonder of his vision. “One day the Kerr family is going to —”

Josie spoke brightly. “Would anyone like another glass?”

That was interesting. I raised my empty cup.

Mr. Kerr chuckled, untroubled by Josie’s interruption. “You were right, Joe, she’s had four already and not a sign of it on her.”

Joe leaned back in his chair. “And I’d wager she had quite a bit more before she arrived.”

Tony’s face darkened. “What are you insinuating…?”

Joe leaned forward, a brief look of panic on his face. “Nothing at all, I assure you! Please forgive me. I am truly sorry to have given offense.”

Tony relaxed. “Her taste for strong drink has been commented on in the past, and not in a good way. I would have no stain on her honor.”

Well, that was kind of him. I was sure I would hear about it on the way home, though.

Josephine laughed. “One time when we were small, a truck full of vodka tipped, and we stole several of the bottles….”

A loud screeching noise a few blocks away, then the shriek of grating metal and a crash of breaking glass. Us Lowballs hid, glancing around in case a rival gang got past the watchers and High Cards. A minute later, Joe dashed up laughing, brown hair dark with sweat, carrying a crate of liquor bottles filled with clear liquid. Josie followed behind, lugging her own crate.