“Did you tell Rhys?” Ada asked him.
“No,” Jonny said, shaking his head. “I know he means well and wants to help, but this is best done with just the two of us. The more people, the more chance of being caught.”
Ada only hoped that they wouldn’t need more help, that this would all go according to plan.
When they reached the docks, while all seemed still and silent, there was a tension to the air, a murmuring that seemed to whisper to them that something was amiss, despite the relative calm. Even the river was still, waiting. Ada pressed closer against Jonny’s side, as though she could burrow in and stay safe from anything — or anyone — that threatened.
Ada's heart pounded as they crept along the shadowed walls of the warehouse, all her senses on high alert. Beside her, Jonny moved with a silent, feline grace born of years living in this dark underbelly of the city.
She tensed at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, her hand instinctively reaching for the pistol concealed in her skirts. Jonny pulled her deeper into the shadows, his body a solid shield against whatever threat might emerge.
The footsteps grew louder, more purposeful, accompanied by gruff voices. She caught snatches of conversation: "...shipment's late..." and "...Sharpe won't be happy..." Her pulse quickened. These had to be Sharpe's men.
A shout rang out, followed by the clatter of wood on stone. Ada pressed herself flat against the wall as Jonny peered around the corner. Men's voices echoed, growing louder.
Hardly daring to breathe, Ada watched over Jonny's shoulder as a group of rough-looking men passed by the mouth of the alley, carrying crates. The muscles in Jonny's jaw ticked as he studied them, no doubt searching for his brother among them. But Will was not there.
A large figure stepped into view, his face obscured by the brim of his cap. He carried a crate, straining under its weight. Another man followed, then another. They moved with swift efficiency, clearly having done this many times before.
Ada’s mind raced. How were they going to get past them all and into the warehouse unnoticed? They had discussed the need to find ledgers, shipping routes, receipts showing illegal goods — anything they could use to bring Sharpe down. But first, they had to get in.
They also had a secondary plan — while they would take items with them, they would also leave some behind, in the hopes of causing Sharpe’s men to lose their trust in him.
As soon as the men's voices faded, Jonny released her and stepped out. Ada followed, one hand resting on the pistol in her pocket, ready. They had to find that shipment and gather the evidence they needed. And, Ada prayed silently, find Will and get him out safely.
Sticking to the shadows, crouching when needed, and hiding behind crates and between buildings whenever they saw men approaching, they made their way to the warehouse Will had disappeared into days before.
“The men are moving mostly in a group, hauling crates and then returning a few minutes later. I’ve counted eight of them,” Jonny murmured in her ear from their place in theshadows, her back against him. “After the eighth walks by, we have a few minutes. We’ll need to move quickly.”
She nodded in understanding.
A single lantern glowed by the door, casting an eerie light. Jonny tested the handle. Locked.
He shot her a grim look and pulled a set of lockpicks from his coat. Ada kept watch, her heart pounding against her ribs, her eyes straining into the darkness, as Jonny worked the lock with deft, practiced movements. The faint scratch and click of metal on metal seemed to echo like gunshots in the tense silence.
Finally, the lock gave way with a soft snick. Jonny eased the door open and, guns drawn, they slipped inside, just as they heard footsteps beginning to sound behind them — the men returning for their next load. The cavernous space was filled with stacks of crates and barrels. A few lanterns hung from the rafters, their wan light doing little to pierce the gloom.
At the far end of the warehouse, crates were stacked haphazardly, men entering and weaving between them, lifting their burdens before they left again.
Ada and Jonny split up to search, always keeping each other in sight. Ada's heart thudding again as she pried open crates, hoping to find the evidence they sought, while dreading being captured. She searched for guns, ammunition, smuggled goods – anything to prove Sharpe's crimes and bring him down.
Sheafs of paper stuck out of one crate, and Ada’s hand wrapped around the top one as she tried to make out what was upon it. It seemed to be a list of goods — she hoped it might be enough to show what Sharpe was up to.
She glanced across the room, trying to make out Jonny’s form, but she couldn’t see him. She could only hope he had accomplished what he had set out to do, putting their plan into motion.
A sudden crash made her jump, hand flying to her pistol as she crouched low.
A gas lamp flooded the room with light, illuminating Jonny, who stood frozen, a shattered lantern at his feet.
Shouts erupted outside, footsteps pounding toward the door.
Ada and Jonny’s eyes met in shared dread. They'd been discovered.
Jonny kicked the shattered glass under a crate and ran across the room toward her, grabbing her hand. "We have to go. Now."
A shout rang out. "Oi! What do you think you're doing?"
Ada tried to run as fast as she could, but cursed when her feet got caught in her voluminous skirts. She clutched the papers to her chest as a man advanced on them, meaty fists clenched. Jonny raised his in turn, but a look behind them showed that their pursuer was not alone, that if they took the time to meet him with fists, they would be overtaken by more men than they could handle, pistols or not.
