'Us? You mean, just you and me?'
'Isobel, please; I haven't gone completely crazy. Morgan's probably got a small
army of security people protecting the Blue Dolphin. But we've got a small army
ourselves, right here. There's a dozen Constables, five Captains, and even a
sorceress. We'll leave a few people here to mind the store, and take the rest.'
'On whose authority?'
'Mine. If we bring this off, no one's going to ask any questions.'
'And if we don't?'
Hawk looked at her steadily. 'This is important to me, Isobel. She died right in
front of me, scared and hurting, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to
help her. Just this once, we've got a chance to make a difference. A real
difference. Let's do it.'
'All right. Let's do it. But how are we going to get the others to go along on
an unofficial raid?'
Hawk smiled. 'Easy. We won't tell them it's unofficial.'
Fisher grinned back at him. 'I like the way you think, Hawk.'
They finally ended up with an impromptu task force of ten Constables, two more
Captains, and the sorceress Mistique; all blithely unaware that they were about
to break every rule in the book. Which was probably for the best. That way, if
anything did go wrong, Hawk and Fisher could take all the blame on themselves.
Besides, no one with the brains they were born with would have volunteered if
they'd known the truth. At which point Hawk decided very firmly that he wasn't
going to think about the situation anymore. It was depressing him too much. All
that mattered was shutting down the drug factory, and Morgan as well, if
possible.
Hawk had heard about Morgan. Most people in Haven had, one way or another. He'd
made enough money down the years from drugs, prostitution, and murder to buy
himself respectability. He was seen in all the best places, belonged to all the
right clubs, and these days was officially regarded as above suspicion. In fact,
he still had a dirty finger in every pie in Haven, though no one had ever been
able to prove anything. But Hawk and Fisher knew, like every other Guard. They
had to deal every day with the violence and suffering his businesses caused.
Hawk frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't like Morgan to get so personally involved
in a scheme like this, having the super-chacal packed and distributed from one
of his own warehouses. And it also wasn't like him to get involved with such a
dangerous drug. The more traditional drugs brought less publicity, were just as
addictive, and therefore just as profitable. Hawk shrugged mentally. Every
villain makes a mistake sooner or later, and Morgan had made a bad one.
Hawk and Fisher led their people through the Northside at a quick march, heading
for the Devil's Hook. They made an impressive spectacle, and the crowds drew
back to let them pass. It was almost like a parade, but nobody cheered. The law
wasn't popular in the Northside. Hawk looked back at his people, and smiled to
himself. They might just bring this off after all. The Constables were some of
the toughest Guards in Haven. They had to be, or they wouldn't have been working
the Northside. And he knew both the Captains, by reputation, if not personally.
Captain Andrew Doughty was a medium-height, stocky man in his late forties; a
career Guard, with all the courage, cunning, and native caution that implied. He
was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and glacially handsome, and his job was his life.
He had a good enough reputation with his sword that he didn't have to keep
proving it, but he liked to anyway, given the chance. He'd had a lot of partners
in his time, but worked best alone. Mostly because he didn't trust anyone but
himself.
Captain Howard Burns was a tall, lean man in his late thirties, with an unruly
mop of dark hair and a thick spade beard. He was an expert in personal and
company security, and worked mostly in the Westside, overseeing the transfer of
money or valuables from one location to another. He took his work very
seriously, and had several official commendations for bravery. He had no sense
of humor at all, but then, no one's perfect. Especially not in Haven.
Hawk had worked with both of them in his time, and was glad he had someone apart
from Fisher to watch his back this time. They were both good men, men he could
depend on. The only real wild card in the pack was the sorceress Mistique. She
was new to the Guard, and still looking for a chance to show what she could do.
Mistique was a tall, slender, fluttering woman in her early thirties, dressed in
sorcerer's black, carefully cut in the latest fashion to show lots of bare
flesh. If the cold bothered her at all, she didn't show it. She had a long,
horsey face, and a friendly, toothy grin that made her look ten years younger.
She had a husky, upper-class accent and wouldn't answer questions about her
background. She also had a thick mass of long black curly hair she had to keep
sweeping back out of her eyes. All together, she wasn't exactly the most
organized person Hawk had ever met, but she was supposed to be bloody good at
what she did, and he'd settle for that. Morgan's warehouse would undoubtedly be
crawling with defensive magic and booby traps. The only real problem with
Mistique was that she hardly ever seemed to stop talking. And she wore literally
dozens of beads and bangles and bracelets that clattered loudly as she walked.
Hawk made a mental note not to include her in any plans that involved sneaking
up on the enemy.
And then they came to the Devil's Hook, and Mistique's chatter stumbled to a
halt. Even casual conversation died away quickly as Hawk led his people into the
Hook. It was a bad place to be, and they all knew it. The Devil's Hook was the
single poorest, most decayed, and most dangerous area in Haven. A square mile of
slums and alleyways backing onto the main Docks, the Hook held more crime,
corruption, and open misery than most people could bear to think about. The
squalid tenement buildings were crammed with sweatshops that paid starvation
wages for work on goods that often fetched high prices in the better parts of
the city. Child labor was common, as was malnutrition and disease. No one
ventured into the stinking streets alone or unarmed. The Guard patrolled the
Hook very loosely rather than risk open warfare with the gangs who ran it. The
gangs weren't as powerful as they once were, thanks to some sterling work by the
sorcerer Gaunt, but after he left Haven the bad times soon returned as new gangs
established themselves and fought for territory. Nobody was surprised. No one
made any complaints. The Hook was where you ended up when you had nowhere else
to go but a pauper's grave.
All in all, the perfect spot for a new drug factory.
The Blue Dolphin was a squalid little lock-up warehouse, on one end of a rotting
tenement. Chemicals from nearby factories had stained and pitted the stonework,
and all the windows were boarded up. It was cheaper than shutters. The street
was deserted, but Hawk could feel the pressure of watching eyes. He brought his
people to a halt outside the warehouse, and quickly set up a defensive
perimeter. The last thing they needed was a gang attack while they were occupied
