“God’s truth! She’s an expert, she is, a renowned Egyptologist up in Oxford. Ask Dandrae. With her knowledge, you can mark your collection as authentic, not mere forgeries. It’ll fetch you more coin in the long run, earn you money that will overflow that little basket of yours.” He nodded at the bushel container lying like a dead soldier on the rug.
“One minute, Brudge.”
No! This couldn’t be happening. His gaze shot to Neddie, all gangly limbed and as grey as yesterday’s porridge. His son’s pleading eyes bored holes into his soul.
“Fine, then don’t take her!” he shouted into the darkness. “Take me. My life for Neddie’s. I’m the one what owes you!”
Genuine laughter rumbled in the shadows. The burning dot of red reappeared, waving in the black void. “Your life’s not worth a pot to spit in.”
“I’m the one who failed you, not Neddie. Take me and let him go. I’ll do whatever you ask, work off my debt. Serve you till my final breath if need be. Just spare my son!”
“You make me sound like a heartless devil. Is that what I am, boys?”
Eerie laughter crept out from every dark crevice. Dash it! How many men were in this room? Too many for him and Neddie to take on, that’s for sure.
And that’s when he knew.
There would be no escaping this situation.
Neddie would die here. He would die here. Even the woman wouldn’t get away with her life.
As if in agreement, the red dot blinked out, snuffed into oblivion.
Brudge pulled at his collar, unable to breathe.
“Release him,” Wormwell murmured.
In a flash, the muzzle of the gun tipped impotently to theceiling. The guard’s beam of an arm dropped. Neddie fell to his knees, chest heaving, a string of spittle hanging from his lips.
“Off with you now, boy,” the disembodied voice ordered.
Neddie shot to his feet, his gaze seeking his father’s as he sped past Brudge.
Brudge teared up. What luck. What unmitigated, unadulterated luck! “Thank you, Wormwell. Oh, thank you! May this deed be spread far and wide. May your great name be hailed amongst men.”
“You see?” The voice floated placatingly out of the darkness, benevolent in tone, like a grandfather to a beloved heir. “I am not the unreasonable monster you make me out to be, but...”
The unfinished sentence hung on the air like an off-key chord.
The Shadow Broker edged back, leaving Brudge front and center.
Wormwell cleared his throat. “I find that neither can I allow the word you so dearly hope to spread on the street. It wouldn’t be seemly to appear soft. I have a certain reputation to maintain. So, yes, I will take your offer of service until the debt is paid, but as an astute businessman, that value will be better serviced by someone of keener intelligence than yourself. In that respect, the woman will work out just fine, I think. Better than you could ever hope to do.”
Brudge blinked, unsure of Wormwell’s meaning. Somewhere a clock struck. The low bongs throbbing inside the warehouse like the beat of a heart. One. Two. Three.
Could he leave the woman here and tag out on Neddie’s heels, then?
. . . Seven. Eight. Nine.
Oh, the relief. The blessed, soothing relief!
. . . Eleven. Twelve.
“So I am free to—”
A shot cracked out of the darkness.
And that was the last thing Brudge ever knew.
