IRONHEART: The Primal Deception

Chapter 5

Jack crept down the alley until he saw the dim outline of a warehouse security guard pacing ahead, then stumbled into the wall, kicking a nearby bottle. He chuckled bemusedly and muttered a drunken song to himself. The watchman stiffened, laying a hand on the holstered revolver on his belt. A club was in his other fist.

"Who goes there?" The voice was sharp and suspicious. The guard stepped forward a few paces, his arm tense, poised to deliver a blow with the thick cane. Jack's blood pumped. He absently noted the magnificent, bushy mustache below the man's squinted eyes and flat cap.

"You don' know whereee Baker Street is, do ya, sirrr?" Jack slurred the words to make the man strain to hear. The guard took another step closer. Jack tripped and stumbled, catching himself on the bricks. He chuckled again, throwing in a hiccup for good measure. "I see... seem to 'ave lost it."

There was a bit of revulsion in the man's posture, but also a shred of amusement. His club dropped the slightest bit. "Bloody sot, get out of here before I–" The club fell nearer to his side. It was all the opening he needed.

Jack shot upright, bringing the butt of his shotgun from beneath his coat to smack directly into the watchman's mustache. The guard reeled back, hands flying up to cover his face. Jack grabbed his lapel and placed the barrel of his coach on the center of the man's chest. The guard moaned and spit out a tooth, his lip smashed and bleeding. Jack ripped the revolver from its holster and slipped it into his belt beside his Bull Dog.

"Don't make a sound," he warned calmly, "or I blow a fist-sized hole through your rib cage." An angry gleam was coming into the man's eyes as he tongued his gums. Jack decided he wasn't quite cowed enough. He reached around and seized the back of the guard's collar, levering him face-first into the alley's brick wall. His nose made a sharp, cracking sound. A hand rose defensively, cringing; the other covered his face. The watchman slid to his knees.

"Do as I tell you, you hear?" Jack grunted, "or it'll go badly for you." He whistled lightly down the alley. Black Jim and Goldilocks appeared.

"Goldi," Jack ordered brusquely, handing the lad the guard's club, "if he makes a sound or moves even the slightest bit, you cave his head in." Goldilocks nodded, face tinged green as he watched the guard spit gobbets of blood between the fingers covering his brutalized face, but he gripped the club determinedly. Jack caught the sound of wagon wheels bouncing on cobblestones. "Jim, you're with me."

Muffled scuffling and grunted curses came from inside as he cautiously pushed open the heavy plank door. He jerked his head at Black Jim. Clearly, Fist had already arrived.

Jack hurried through a back room furnished with a table, chairs, a stack of cards, and cigar butts. It was blessedly empty of guards. Just as he presumed, they found them in the main storage area, hands and legs splayed out against the walls, held to silence by Fist's men. Jack counted six of them – seven including the watchman in the alley. It was a suspiciously large amount of security. Had Fist expected so many? Jack's eyes narrowed.

The hulking gang leader spotted him as he entered. Fist jerked his head toward the back. "Any in the alley?" His eyes flickered around at the crates and the captive guards, his shotgun resting on his shoulder.

"One," Jack said shortly. "No problems. Goldilocks has him. Harry and his boys were rolling up as we came in."

"Good!" Fist laughed. "I'm giving us three minutes to load as much cargo as we can, then we get the hell out. Anymore and we'll have bloody crushers coming to investigate." He motioned to one of his men and dropped his shotgun into a ready grip. "Have Goldilocks bring the other in with this lot. Lom and I will hold 'em. You get all the others dragging these crates out back. And get Harry's ass moving."

Jack nodded and grabbed the end of one of the thick wooden crates, motioning Jim to the other side. The room filled with scuffling movement as every available man set to the task. They lifted with a grunt and struggled toward the back door. The cargo was heavy, despite its relatively small size. The first of Harry's wagons was entering the alley when Jack shuffled backwards out of the door with his load, and he set it down.

"Goldi," Jack barked. "Take him inside with the rest, then start loading these crates." Harry pulled up as the pox-faced boy complied. He grinned sneeringly.

"How'd it go, Jack? Bugger anyone up?"

He didn't deign to answer as he lifted his end of the crate. "Get off that steamblown wagon and start loading. Fist says we've got two minutes." He grunted with exertion, pushing the freight to the front of the buckboard.

When Jack went back inside, the guards were all lying bound and gagged in a corner. Some looked much the worse for wear, but they would all be alive come morning. He grabbed another crate with Jim and joined the queue shuffling into the alley.

Jack was just heaving this second load into a cart when it happened. Goldilocks, who was lifting the end of his own crate, slipped. The box teetered on the edge of the wagon for a long moment, and Jack hissed.

"Watch it!"

The crate toppled off sideways and smashed into the ground. The wooden top busted loose, and the contents came spilling out, tumbling across the cobblestones.

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Then, Jack stepped forward and bent, grasping one of the apple-sized stones. It shined with a silvery light, tinged with the slightest hint of a golden glow. His teeth clenched.

Celestial Steel.