I nodded. “In the base.”
“That’s a fortified compound. We’ll never get in there.”
“Oh, I imagine we’ll get in. They want us to get in. It’s getting out that has me worried.”
“That’s something that has us all worried, Jacob Burn,” a voice said behind me, from the shadows of the shattered staircase. The voice was musical, pipes and pistons in a semblance of humanity.
Wilson didn’t move. My hands were working the action on Emily’s shotgun even as I remembered it was empty.
A dark bulk resolved into a man of cogs and metal. Valentine. He was not alone. Others stood behind him, keeping to the shadows, weapons in their hands. I counted at least three.
“How do people keep finding me?” I muttered. “What the hell are you doing here, boss?”
“You are cutting a wide wake through the city, Jacob. I have had eyes on all the major players for the last couple days. Ever since the incident at the Tomb Manor. When your path crossed your father’s and the Lady Tomb, I decided it was time to step in. We have some things to discuss, I imagine.”
He took an envelope out of his waistcoat and dropped it in my lap. It was addressed to Valentine, City of Veridon. The edges of the envelope were dirty and worn. I opened it and read the single sheet of paper inside.
– As we agreed: GLORY OF DAY. Have your best men on board.
– Signed, Marcus Pitts.
“Yeah,” I said. “I imagine we do.”
“I do not think of it as dishonesty, Mr. Burn.”
We were in a carriage, too many of us for the cabin. Wilson and I stank of ash and sewage and blood. The leather seat creaked as we tried to make enough room for all of us, and our guns and knives and mistrust.
“I do. It’s nothing personal, Valentine. But all this, I have to call it dishonest.”
“Good to know it’s not personal,” Cacher spat. He had been glaring at me ever since he stepped out from behind the boss back in the basement. He had a handful of dirty looks for Wilson, too. Some history there I didn’t know.
“Quiet,” Valentine said, gave Cacher the barest nod. “Jacob, you have to understand my position. I cannot stand up against the Council and the Church. It would be open war. My organization can not have that fight.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I wasn’t sure I could. I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t tell Emily.”
“You knew about her?”
He shrugged. “I knew something wasn’t right. But I wasn’t sure.”
“Where is she, bastard?” Cacher asked, menacing me with his black, blunt shortrifle.
“Fuck off, Cach.”
“Don’t tell me to-”
“Fuck off, Cacher,” Valentine said.
“What else did you know about?” I asked. “About the Cog, and the Council? How did you find out about all of this?”
“Ah. Straight from Marcus, actually.” Valentine shrugged and tried to settle more comfortably into his bench. Cacher struggled further against the wall of the carriage. The other two thugs were up top, driving us somewhere. “I started getting messages from him two weeks before your spectacular accident. More and more desperate, the closer he got to Veridon.”
“You knew what he had?”
“Not completely. He wanted help, he was scared. Of that Angel, in retrospect, though he never specified. It was killing the expedition, one at a time. He was scared he wouldn’t make it to the city.”
“Like she wanted,” I whispered, thinking of Camilla’s plan to lure vengeance into Veridon.
“Who?”
I shook my head. “So, he wanted your help. And he tried to buy it with the Cog?”
“Yes. With knowledge of what it was, where it came from.” Valentine spread his wide, flat hands. “I couldn’t do it, obviously. Too many variables, and no idea if I could trust him.”
“So you sent me?”
“I knew when he was coming. Knew he was pursued. I wanted a man in place.”
“Me?”
He nodded.
“I’m going to get back to this, boss, because I really feel that it’s pretty important. You could have told me.”
“I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea what you were going into. How could I warn you?”
“You could have told me to be prepared.”
“Jacob, the day I have to tell you to be prepared for trouble, that’s the day I will no longer trust you.”
I leaned back in the chair, staring off into the distance. Veridon rumbled past us through the wire webbed protective glass of the carriage.
“So what now?” I asked.
“I’ve been on the sidelines long enough. Things are precarious enough, now.” He futzed with the clasp on his cuff, unbuttoning it, adjusting the shirt sleeve and reattaching the cufflink. “I think it’s time for me to help.”
I laughed quietly, once. “You want to help? Now? All the time I spent hiding, unarmed, the Badge and Council and Church trying to kill me. You want to help now?”
He shrugged. “Too many factors, Jacob. But I’m here now. Don’t turn down an ally. You could use a friend.”
“Yeah,” I said, thoughtfully. “Yeah, I could. Okay. You want to help me?” I pushed the empty shotgun into his lap. “Let’s start by loading this gun.”
Valentine smiled. “That’s my Jacob. That’s the way.” He reached behind the seat and produced a box of shells and handed them to me. Just like Valentine, to have an extra box lying around.
I loaded the gun, one shell at a time. It held six shells, lined up down the barrel. A good gun. I couldn’t help but think of the Angel, coming down the hall as I knelt in the Manor Tomb, fumbling with the cylinder. That’s what it comes down to, sometimes. Clear action in the face of danger. Keeping your head when everyone else around you is freaking out. I loaded the gun smoothly, one shell, then the next, until the cylinder was full. I snapped the gun shut, then laid the barrel against Valentine’s chest. Cacher raised his alley piece and snarled.
Wilson’s talon tipped arms pounced forward, a sharp edge resting on Cacher’s face, his neck, below his eye. He pushed just hard enough that Cacher had to strain backwards to keep his skin intact.
“You’re going to put your gun down, son,” Wilson said, his voice low with menace and anger. Cacher complied.
“This isn’t necessary, Jacob,” Valentine said. “You can just tell me to fuck off. I would understand. Probably what I would do in your shoes.”
“You wouldn’t be in my shoes, boss. You’d hire some sucker to get the shit kicked out of him. You stopped getting your hands dirty twenty years ago.”
“On the contrary. I keep my hands quite dirty. Part of the job. But you’re right, I wouldn’t let myself get where you are. So.” He kept his clockwork face neutral, wouldn’t look at the gun. “What now?”
“I want to be clear about this. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. Took me in, watched out for me. Gave a fuck when no one else would. But I think this was one too far. I don’t want you as an enemy, Valentine. But I think I’m done with having you as a friend.”
“Not the best move, Jacob. It’s a different world, without my protection. Where would you be right now, if I hadn’t put you on that zep with Marcus? You wouldn’t have known anything was up, and the Council could have plucked you off the street without a word of trouble. You’d be dead, and you wouldn’t even know why.”
“Maybe. Would’ve saved me a hell of a lot of trouble. No, boss, this is it. Pull it over.”
He banged on the carriage roof and we pulled over. I kept my gun on Valentine as we got out. Wilson left Cacher with a healthy set of new scars. We backed into an alley, the two thugs on top watching us go. Valentine smiled and waved.
“Good luck, Jacob. And stay out of my sight for a little while.”
“I’ll probably be dead, boss. But I’ll keep it in mind.”
