A rifle skidded out from one of the doorways, followed by a pistol and a knife. A young, swarthy-looking man emerged, his hands held high. Jez took him over to stand with the other prisoner. Silo came in from outside.
‘Where’s the guard you were covering?’ Frey asked, appalled.
‘Tied him up. Put him in the guardhouse with the other,’ said Silo.
‘Right, right,’ Frey said, relieved. He allowed himself to relax a little. ‘Should’ve thought of that myself.’
Pinn and Malvery exchanged a glance. Malvery looked skyward in despair.
‘Your boss is upstairs?’ Frey asked the prisoners. They nodded. ‘No more guards?’ They shook their heads. ‘The whores?’
‘In there,’ said Charry, indicating the room the half-naked man had come from. ‘Obviously.’
Frey looked at Silo. ‘You’re in charge. Anyone moves, shoot them. Malvery, you and me are going to have a word with Quail.’ As an afterthought, he added: ‘Bring your bag. I don’t want him dying before he talks.’
‘Right-o,’ said Malvery, heading outside to collect the doctor’s bag that he’d left on the porch.
Frey walked up to the whores’ doorway and stood to one side. The dead man with his trousers round his ankles had a comically astonished expression on his face.
We can all but hope to die with such dignity and elegance, he thought.
‘Ladies?’ he called. There was no reply. He stuck his head around the doorway, and drew it back rapidly as a shotgun blast blew part of the door frame to splinters.
‘Ladies!’ he said again, slightly annoyed this time. His ears were ringing. ‘We’re not going to hurt you!’
‘No, you’re bloody not!’ came the reply. ‘I know your sort! We give what we give ’cause we’re paid to! Nobody takes it by force!’
‘Nobody’s taking anything,’ said Frey. ‘You might remember me. Darian Frey? We were introduced just a few weeks ago.’
‘Oh,’ came the reply, rather less harsh than before. ‘Yes, I remember you. Stick your head out, let us have a look.’
‘I’d rather not,’ he replied. ‘Listen, ladies, our business is with Quail. We’ll be done with it and go. Nobody’s going to bother you. Now will you let us past?’
There was a short debate in low voices. ‘Alright.’
‘You won’t shoot?’
‘Long as nobody tries to come in. Specially that one who looks like a potato. He’s enough to turn a woman to the other side.’
Silo grinned at Pinn, who kicked an imaginary stone and swore under his breath.
‘Especially not him,’ Frey agreed.
‘Well. Okay then.’
Malvery returned with his bag. He took another swig of swabbing alcohol and stuffed it back inside. Pinn bleated for a taste, but Malvery ignored him.
They
