Red Dog Conspiracy, Act 1

The Jacq of Spades-9

We had stolen a new mechanism from the Clubbs, the Telephonic Telegraph. This machine transmitted sound through wires using electricity, so you could talk to others located far away. It was a marvelous creation; I couldn’t believe the Clubbs had hoarded such a thing.

Though Roy scoffed at the device, Tony saw the value of it at once. It took months of installing wire under the cobblestones to our private surgeon Dr. Salmon’s office. Now we could summon the doctor at once instead of waiting for a messenger boy.

We had finished the project just in time. The men were dirty and sweaty, but Tony was pale, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Where are you injured?” I turned to the men. “Was he shot?”

“No, mum.” Pain crossed Sawbuck’s face, and I imagined his distress. “But it was an ambush: they carried lead pipes, and he took a solid blow to the ribs.”

I said to Sawbuck, “How did you come to be in an ambush?” I spoke to all the men. “Bring chairs and tell me the whole tale.”

Tony’s men turned towards him, and he nodded. They drew up chairs and sat.

“When you arrived,” Sawbuck said, “we gave Mr. Spadros word of a Party Time shipment hijacked. He insisted on seeing the scene of the incident and the route taken.

“We went to the scene and tended to the injured men and horses. When we returned to the warehouse, the four guards scheduled to be on duty were missing. It was most suspicious.

“When we entered the building, six men ambushed us. We shot three and the rest fled. They focused the attack on Mr. Spadros in particular.”

I witnessed worse beatings as a child. “Anyone else injured?”

“A few were,” Sawbuck said, “but they were taken home to their families. The guards are still missing.”

“See … that the doctor … visits the injured,” Tony gasped, “at my expense. And not a word to my father.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell the men and their families again, in the strongest terms.” Sawbuck glanced at me, concern in his face.

“Don’t speak,” I told Tony, “until the doctor has seen to you.”

Tony closed his eyes, grimacing with each breath. I washed his face, loosened his cravat, undid his collar, and combed his hair.

Dr. Salmon arrived and pronounced Tony’s rib broken. Tony’s men carried him upstairs, then the doctor bathed his right side, which was badly bruised, and strapped his ribs. This seemed to ease the pain. The doctor dosed Tony and left a tincture of opium. “Keep him quiet for as long as possible. The less he moves around, the faster it will heal.”

“Doctor, my husband would like his father not to know of this. What shall we say?”

Dr. Salmon thought a moment. “Your husband has had an attack of pleurisy. He will be ill for at least two weeks.”

I handed him a silver dollar. “Thank you for your services.”

Every time I touched a dollar, it reminded me of how I got here. When I was twelve, a Party Time addict named Peedro Sluff said if I washed my face, brushed my hair, and was at the corner of Shill and Snow by ten, I’d get a dollar.

Before this, I’d never seen a dollar; it was more money than anyone I knew had. So I said okay. Air tried to keep me from going there, truly he did. I should have listened.

When I stepped into the hall, Sawbuck said, “How is he?”

“He will be well. Tell anyone who asks that he has pleurisy.”

Sawbuck gave a small smile. “I will. Thank you, mum.”

After the men left, I checked on Tony, who slept, then washed my face and returned to my cold meal. “Pearson, please fetch Michaels and Amelia.”

“They are at dinner, mum.”

“Have them bring their dinners and sit here. I need your help. I don’t want to upset the others by going downstairs.”

The three came up, carrying their meals and drink, and after some hesitation, joined me at the table. Jacob Michaels was young, thin, and had dark hair. Tonight he looked nervous, but he sat, as did Amelia. Amelia’s eyes and nose were red, her face fearful.

“Pearson, please sit, it is fatiguing to look up at you so.” I smiled to soften my words.

“If you insist, mum.”

I took a deep breath, and let it out. “If anyone asks, Mr. Spadros is stricken with pleurisy —”

Pearson raised an eyebrow. “Pleurisy?”

“Yes. Mr. Spadros does not wish his father to know of tonight’s dealings until we have some idea as to who the perpetrators were.”

“But,” Amelia said, “the men …”

“Sawbuck will see to the men and their families. Pearson, please see to the staff. I would hate to have any further losses due to this.”

Pearson said, “You will have no troubles on that account.”

I smiled, relieved. “I knew I could depend on you. In any case, Mr. Spadros may be unwell for several weeks. If anyone asks about injured men, they were …”

“Dueling?” Michaels said.

“Brawling,” Pearson said. “As rough men will.”

“Brawling! Very good. The doctor says Mr. Spadros should keep as quiet as he can. So he will need assistance and to have meals brought to him. I think we will need to not be at home to callers for at least the next week, but we can see how he fares.”

“That does sound wise, mum,” Pearson said. “I’ll notify the bridge guards.”

“Thank you.” I took a bite of cold chicken, feeling exhausted. “Michaels, please set up a bell for his room.”

“At once, mum,” Michaels said.

“Please do so quietly.”

Michaels smiled, his face regaining some of its color. “All that is needed is to let down the pull cord and place it within his reach; it has been there all along.”

Ah. I had no idea of the mechanisms behind a Manor house bell system, even after all these years, only that they connected to the levers in the staff room. Were the cords threaded through the walls somehow?

“Thank you, Michaels. Please, eat. I am not in the mood to sit alone, after such a day.”

Amelia had been studying me. “So your visit with the Kerrs was acceptable?”

I had almost forgotten it, with all the trouble. But the way she spoke made me think she was more perceptive than I thought.

“Perfectly. But … it was like returning home after being gone for many years. Things change.”

All three nodded, their focus going inward. I felt pleased with myself; my statement would divert her questions for some time.

The Attempt

Every few hours Tony woke in pain. I dosed him with opium then held him as he gasped until the medication took effect.

It reminded me of Air, a month before he died. We sat on the cold ground by the fence, and I held him as he coughed up blood. Eleanora screamed, long hair flying, banging on the black iron bars with a piece of metal until the lady at the poorhouse called a doctor. I felt sorry for two-year-old David and six-year-old Herbert, who clutched her skirts and cried in terror.

I couldn’t smoke around Tony: this made him cough. Even with Amelia and Michaels there to assist, I dared not leave him for long. It took several days before Tony was well enough to sit in a chair, so I wasn’t able to venture out as I wished.

At times, I felt trapped, at other times, close to tears at his suffering. I thought once, gazing at Tony as he slept, perhaps this is what a mother feels for her child.

We were in a terrible situation, and so sudden.

A reporter writing an editorial against the Families. Someone forging a note from Madame. Air’s little brother missing. A couple who knew of my business and told others about it. At least one man following me, watching me. The Red Dog stamps. A focused attack on Tony by a group of men. Our guards missing. A shipment hijacked.

I needed to do something. I often wept in frustration, not knowing what to do to help.

A fourth-page article in the Golden Bridges appeared: “unidentified bodies in the river, dead several days.” Other than that, Tony’s adventure went unnoticed, and we were grateful.

Roy and Molly Spadros visited shortly after. Since Tony slept, they took me to the far end of the garden for my shooting lesson while Roy questioned me as to how the house fared.

Roy insisted on holding lessons at least monthly, up until now when Tony was away. I couldn’t see when I would ever need to shoot someone.

“We’re in the Business, dammit,” Roy said the one time I asked. “Someone pulls out a gun, you better defend yourself.”

So I practiced in my morning dress on grass still damp with dew. I fired while lying flat, on both knees, on one knee, standing, one handed, two handed, with my right hand, with my left hand … I seemed to have some talent for it.

Roy often shouted or struck the ground beside me, or kicked me, or forced Molly to stand next to the target. The only way I could bring myself to pull the trigger was to focus only on the target. The world became silent; Roy’s curses and blows vanished, Molly disappeared. The target was all I saw.

I didn’t always hit precisely at first, but I have never once missed a target.

Roy examined the paper target. “You’re almost as good as Molly.” I breathed a sigh of relief once his back turned.

Molly took my arm as we walked back to the house, while Roy followed several paces behind smoking a cigar. “I’m glad no harm has befallen you. Rumors of an attempt against you came before the Ball.”

“Against me. Me in particular?”

Molly nodded.

This was startling. “From where? Why did you not say so before this?”

She glanced away. “I don’t know the threat’s exact nature. My husband didn’t wish you to know.”

Perhaps to see what would happen? Roy took a perverse pleasure in harm coming to anyone, but seemed to especially revel in harm coming to me. The protection we received was all for Tony’s benefit. “Well, other than Mr. Spadros being so ill, things have been peaceful.” We strolled along, and a bird flew past.

“I heard you visited the Kerrs last week.”

“Why yes.” I wondered how she heard.

“How is Mr. Kerr?”

“Quite well. I didn’t know you knew him.”

Molly smiled. “I knew Mr. Kerr when he ran a speakeasy in the Spadros Pot. You’re not the only one born there.”

I stared at her, and she laughed as if my expression were the funniest thing in the world.

Molly, born in the Pot? Did Roy know? Surely he didn’t know. How did she end up here?

But then Roy came up beside Molly, and she took his arm. “Darling, let’s see if Jane has a treat for Katherine. She loves it so when you bring her something.” Katherine was Tony’s younger sister and very much Daddy’s girl.

Roy seemed pleased with the idea, and never asked why Molly laughed.

Ma told me once if you did your job really well, a quadrant-man might make you his mistress. You and your children would never have to work the beds again. She told me she knew a woman who left the Pot that way, sponsored by her Family man and set up with her own shop.

Being sponsored by a Family and moved into one of the quadrants was the highest achievement for a Pot rag. “Real freedom,“ Ma called it.

Had Molly managed to do this? But how? With who? How did she end up married to Roy? For her, the dream seemed to have turned into a nightmare.