Of Stolen Glances and Midnight Schemes

Chapter 4 - Carriage Rides Are not for the Weak-Hearted

London's financial district remained busy at all times, full of harried-looking businessmen and speeding carriages. Evie always enjoyed traveling through it, admiring the grand-looking halls and sculpted pillars holding up historic buildings. It was under one of those ornamented pillars that she spotted her associate Ned Wynert, standing rigidly underneath the shadowed entrance to the Royal Exchange. The main trading hub of London, recalled Evie as she neared the businessman. His charcoal gray suit was all crisp lines and sharp angles. The crime syndicate boss pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as the lithe woman approached.

"I'm sorry for being late," greeted Evie. "I came across an unexpected development."

Ned Wynert brushed it off, getting right to the point. Whilst monitoring the latest shipments coming in from all land and sea trade-ways of London, he had noticed an anomaly that he had wanted to share with the twins. There had been increased amounts of illicit shipments being brought in the city, notably by Blighter cells. They were mostly imports from Persia ; the majority being art, ornaments and expensive jewelry. Templars are underneath this, undoubtedly, thought Evie, gears shifting in her keen mind.

"Yes, I did intercept a shipment a while ago from the river Thames, there was a golden box with sculpted design on its sides." Remarked Evie. "It contained a vial with deadly poison. Mr. Green believes that the box originated from Persia."

Suddenly, the dark-cloaked assassin felt a presence behind her. She whirled around with astounding speed and grace, shoving the intruder against a stone column while simultaneously flexing her wrist, unsheathing her hidden blade against their neck.

As soon as she recognized the offending presence, she let him go with a huff.

"Now now, sister dearest." Grinned Jacob cheekily, straightening his ever-present top hat on his head. "That's no way to greet your baby brother, now is it?"

"You," snapped Evie, her eyebrows rising a fraction, "are late." Jacob didn't need to know that Evie had been late as well. Ned Wynert's eyes twinkled in amusement, undoubtedly catching on to that detail. His lips remained sealed, to her relief.

"Fashionably so, am I not?" Replied Jacob insolently, his smile widening.

"You have pigeon waste on your shoulder." Quipped Evie with a slight smirk, watching Jacob's expression morph from a gleeful one to utter disgust.

Ned Wynert cleared his throat. Jacob tipped his hat with a flourish in greeting, catching up to speed in the conversation. The syndicate boss resumed that the Blighter trading boom was proving an unwelcome inconvenience. He wasn't able to operate his undercover criminal activities with an increased amount of Blighters around, having to double and sometimes triple the amount of security around his shipments. Blackmail could only affect so many people, and the Blighter kingpins weren't some of them. Therefore, he would appreciate their input in dealing with a few train shipments in the next days, as he had important business going on and he needed to assure fluidity.

"It would be my pleasure," said Jacob, "train derailing is a hobby of mine."

Evie rolled her eyes at her brother. "Consider it done." Confirmed Evie.

"As long as we get to keep the loot on the train. Finders keepers, after all." Added her brother in a conspiratorial tone.

Ned nodded, shaking hands with both of them. He motioned for them to follow him, reaching a horse-drawn carriage on the side of a street. They climbed onto it, Jacob insisting to drive. Ned directed him to the district's train terminus, Cannon Street Station.

Evie Frye was one of the bravest women in London, if not the most courageous, but even she felt her nerves fray as her brother swerved left and right, attempting to both avoid death by collision and race to the station at a life-threatening speed.

"Jacob! That's a lamppost, you dimwit!" She screamed as she felt the fingers of imminent death brush her face. She was going to throttle him should they survive to see the next sunrise.

"I do feel like this pace is quite unnecessary," noted Ned. "I don't have my death in my agenda today," he said.

Jacob grumbled something about rule-adhering ninnies under his breath, drawing the reins to slow down a fraction. Evie held the handle in front of her like her life depended on it. Ah, but it does, she thought sardonically. How ironic.

The carriage thankfully slowed down to a stop a short minute later, the trio descending to solid, reliable concrete. "I'm driving next time." Said Evie pointedly as she brushed past her twin, following Ned's lead. She felt Jacob's foot hooking around her ankle, trying to trip her. She swung her leg to the side, reversing the effect. She let the ghost of a grin touch her face, feeling a tad smug as Jacob kissed the ground, emitting a small oof. "That's my revenge for the carriage ride." Said Evie primly.

He got up with an indignant air, brushing his coat. They walked on, shouldering their way into the bustling train station.

The air smelled of metal and smoke. The station was loud, an ever-present buzz of conversation, train whistles and the satisfying sound of running locomotives moving on rails. Ned found a vantage point on the second floor of the station, explaining their task. A train would be coming here the next night, and it needed to be disposed of. The chief of the station couldn't be alerted, as Ned needed no suspicion to be put upon the station. "As if nothing had ever happened," he pressed.

Just as Evie opened her mouth to speak, she heard a man scream in pain.

Her head swivelled instantly towards the noise, eyes scanning the frantic crowd at lighting speed, cataloguing, observing, scanning the citizens until she found her mark. A train officer, bleeding on the ground. A red-stained blade in his chest. She scanned again, finding her second target.

"There! Jacob! The man running away, black coat with brown beard!" She shouted. Moving as one, they shot out their grappling hooks from their gauntlets, both hooks catching on the overhead metal beams and propelling them through the smoke-filled air. They seemed like dark angels in that moment, vigilantes arriving from the skies on invisible wings. Jacob dropped to the ground with a running start, chasing the culprit as Evie swung her way to the injured man, a trapeze artist vaulting through the air. She somersaulted to the ground next to the man, observing the scene. Her throat thickened. She knew a fatal wound when she saw it.

I'm too late. The blade had cut into the man's main arteries, blood tarnishing his blue uniform into a macabre shade of purple. She drew two fingers to close his unseeing eyes. Evie heard Ned's running footsteps coming towards her.

"The train station officer," she heard him say in a cold, informal tone when he reached her. "This was Blighter work."

"We should leave before they cast suspicion onto us." Evie got up from her crouch, glancing at the dead man. The all-too familiar whistle of police officers rang through the air. Low classes of citizens were always accused out of convenience, never out of truth. Such were the ways of the corrupted force of so-called justice, for the most part.

Evie and Ned stealthily disappeared into the fleeing crowd, leaving the station. Evie scanned her surroundings with an eagle's eye. "We need to find Jacob. He's not here. If he caught the killer, he'll hold him in our train. We shouldn't linger."