Daniel returned the greeting mildly, though all his senses immediately snapped to attention. Tommy Meade never sought one out without a reason. And he never traveled alone.
“Fancy running into you here,” Tommy commented, continuing to smile.
Yes, a remarkable coincidence.
“What can I do for you, Tommy?”
Tommy affected a look of deep hurt. “What, a guy can’t run into another guy from the old neighborhood on Broadway?” The man took a half step closer, placing his whip-thin body only inches from Daniel’s broader form. Daniel hadn’t fought him for many years, but he was sure Tommy’s slight frame encased the same rock-hard, wiry muscles it had when they were young. Besides, there were always Tommy’s henchmen to consider. Daniel flicked his gaze to the right and spotted at least one, sallow faced and slouching in a doorway, pretending to read a paper but avidly watching the whole exchange through half-lidded eyes.
“You used to be friendlier, Danny,” Tommy said sadly, shaking his head.
Daniel held the other man’s gaze levelly. After a few moments of silence, Tommy laughed.
“Yeah, I guess that’s right. Not really friends, were we? You insisted on running with those Bayard Toughs.”
There was no point in answering. The Oyster Knifers, Tommy’s gang, were the Bayard Toughs’ rivals. Gang membership was serious, lifelong business where they were from.
“Look, Danny,” Tommy began. “You know I’ve been on the city council for some time now. I’ve been a little disappointed that you haven’t come to any of my rallies or meetings since you’ve been in town. I’ve sent messages.”
“And as I responded to the first message, I have little interest in politics,” Daniel replied curtly. He tried to sidestep Tommy, who neatly blocked his movement with a matching one. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw the henchman straighten. Tommy didn’t even look in the bodyguard’s direction, but at the slightest shake of his head the thug settled back into his doorway.
“Just hear me out, Danny. For old time’s sake. You say you have no interest in politics, but that’s not what I hear.” Tommy smiled his thin smile. “In fact, I hear you’ve been hanging round the Bend some nights, offering legal advice.”
“Helping the less fortunate with their legal troubles is not necessarily political,” Daniel replied.
“It is in this town, particularly when we’re talking housing or labor conditions.”
Daniel felt his insides clench with rage. He wondered briefly how many unscrupulous landlords, policemen, and city inspectors were in Tommy’s pocket.
“Between you and that pesky Robin Hood,” Tommy continued, pausing to send a meaningful look his way, “a lot of folks seem to be getting restless. People don’t like having their own misfortune pointed out to them.”
“People don’t like realizing they’ve been the dupes of a corrupt system,” Daniel corrected.
“We’ve been trying to clean up that area for a good spell now, you know. While you were off dallying with the crowned heads of Europe. Poor old Gerry, did you hear? Seems he got the wrong idea about our efforts.” Tommy rocked back on his heels and fixed Danny with a hard look.
So that was how Gerry Knox had wound up with his head caved in under a pile of garbage in Bottle Alley. And how the police report would reflect a different story.
It had been so long, yet his body automatically began to prepare for what was starting to seem like an inevitable fight. His knees bent slightly in readiness to duck or feint, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed.
Ever observant, Tommy took note of the subtle shifts in Daniel’s form and held his hands up. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Danny,” he said. “I came to ask personally for your support.”
“For what?” Daniel ground out, refusing to relax.
“Why, for my candidacy! I’m running for mayor.” Tommy’s smile widened. “It would be such a boon to my campaign to have the support of someone as respectable as yourself, not tainted with the slightest hint of scandal.”
Daniel stared at the man, incredulous. Tommy Meade, terror of the East Side, as mayor of New York?
“Don’t look so stunned, Danny boy,” Tommy sneered. “You always were so high-and-mighty. Must have been your sister’s influence. Ah, but she was a beauty. Went to work for old man Van Joost, didn’t she?” Tommy grinned wolfishly, and Daniel knew the other man had just played his trump card.
Tommy gave a slight nod, as if observing that Daniel had indeed gotten his message. He took a step back and stared at Daniel coldly. “You know I could win this, Danny. I’m exactly the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of man they want, a survivor of the Draft Riots, the bad boy from the tenements made good. And besides,” Tommy continued, spreading his hands wide and assuming the role of the benevolent politician, “I am for the people. I’m for reform.”
Daniel felt cold rage envelop him. “You’re interested in profiting off the people, not in making their way easier.”
“Why, Danny,” replied Tommy, smooth as a snake, “whoever said the two were mutually exclusive? Think about it.”
With a quick wink, he turned and melted into the crowded street, his henchman disappearing along with him. Daniel stood alone for a few moments longer, forcing himself to breathe deeply until he felt he could move without punching an innocent passerby. Then, muttering a curse that caused a few startled stares, he too lost himself in the throngs of pedestrians.
CHAPTER 7
After her confusing encounter with Clive and an alarming afternoon navigating an exhibition hall full of crying babies (what made any of them “best,” anyway? They all looked rather the same to her), a brisk walk in the crisp winter air did much to lift Genevieve’s spirits. She had brooded during the entire carriage ride back to her home, where she had gone to change into something more suitable for visiting the house of the recently deceased, and once there decided to make her way north on Fifth Avenue to Mr. Cotswold’s mansion by foot, despite the chilly temperatures.
It had
