“I’m aware. That said, there’s a lot of pressure on me to make an arrest.” Price interlaced his hands beneath his chin, regarding Kane gravely. “I’ve been put in a difficult position. If I don’t bring someone in, I could be demoted, or at the very least moved to another division. And yet the only thing keeping my son’s men silent about what theysaw at the Crystal Palace isme. They’re not afraid of Ricky; they’re afraid of what I could do to their careers.”
Hearing Price Junior called Ricky almost startled a laugh out of Kane. Instead, he lifted his brow. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m simply laying out the situation as I see it. The only person I have any evidence against, Durante, is you. Well—you and Master Collins. I’m loath to jeopardize our partnership, but if I lose my current position, that’ll happen regardless. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Oh, Kane understood. Although Price couldn’t have known it, he’d played his highest card by mentioning Fletcher. If Kane got his friend arrested, there was no chance in hell of ever being forgiven. Then there was the matter of his own arrest—the crew would devolve into anarchy with him gone. Curse Ward for tasking him to steal the necklace in the first place. It hadn’t brought Kane a goddamned thing apart from trouble.
“Yes,” Kane said with a curl of his lip. “Yes, I understand quite well. You’re saying that if I want to stay out of darbies”—he rotated his wrists as he spoke—“then you need my help finding out who this Curator is. It’s charming you think I’d be an easy arrest. As it so happens, however, you’ve piqued my interest. I don’t particularly like the idea of someone connecting my heist to whatever’s going on now.”
The inspector stood. “My intention was not to put strain upon this new relationship—”
“Ah, but wasn’t it?”
“However, I’m sure you can see where I’m coming from. You caused this problem for me, and therefore, I need you to fix it.” Price paused by the door. His gaze was uncompromising, his tone no longer cordial. “You don’t intend to hand over that necklace, do you?”
Kane saw no reason to lie. “No.”
A stiff nod. “Find me this so-called Curator, and I’ll make it all go away. He’ll take the fall for your crimes rather than the other way around. You can consider it a gesture of good faith.”
“And if I fail,” Kane said placidly, “then I become your scapegoat.”
The inspector’s shrug was more dismissive than apologetic. “Call it whatever you wish. You have until next Friday, Durante. Surely ten days will be enough.”
ZARIA
The manor wasn’t what Zaria had expected.
Whenever she tried to picture a kingpin’s residence—which admittedly wasn’t often—she’d always imagined someplace dark and mysterious, perhaps accessed through a discreet door in an alleyway. She’d never imagined a sprawling riverfront manor, the property of which took up almost an entire block. This particular property was close to the wharf, occupying a corner lot a short distance from St. George’s Square. It was an odd area, if only because it was one of those intersections between the extremely wealthy and the chronically poor. The square was surrounded on all sides by enormous buildings with beautiful architecture, yet only one block over was Pulford Street, which was no better than the slum proper.
“I thought it’d be closer to Devil’s Acre,” Zaria murmured as they approached the imposing house. It had begun to rain rather heavily, and she held her bag of belongings tight to her chest. Shecouldn’t help wondering if Vaughan still had someone watching her. If he would know the very moment she darkened Kane Durante’s doorstep.
Fletcher shook his head. “No kingpin with half a brain lives in the area he controls. That’s asking for trouble. Besides, Ward was notorious for moving around—I can’t be certain Kane will even be here. For all I know, he might’ve up and left.”
“You tell me thatnow?”
Fletcher ignored that, his gaze flicking cautiously to and fro as they passed through the cast-iron gate. The entire property was fenced, with sharp, arrow-shaped posts jutting skyward in a way that was decidedly unwelcoming. Thick shrubbery stretched from one side of the yard to the other, and although it was approaching midday, every window Zaria could see was shrouded by heavy curtains.
She expected to be confronted before they reached the door, and lagged behind in case of that eventuality. To her surprise, however, Fletcher strolled right up the front steps and knocked with all the intensity of a solicitor.
The door opened at once, putting them face-to-face with a reedy ginger-haired man of about twenty. Raucous noise swelled behind him, the unidentifiable shouts and jeers of at least a half dozen other men making Zaria cringe. The doorman gave them a once-over, expression shifting from shock to confusion as he looked from Fletcher to Zaria. “Master Collins. Durante said you were no longer involved with the crew.”
“Yeah, well,” Fletcher said, “I’m sure you know Durante has a tendency to stretch the truth. Is he in?”
The doorman appeared reluctant to answer. “He’s in a rather poor mood. I’m not sure another unexpected meeting would be wise.”
Zaria frowned.Anotherunexpected meeting?
Fletcher wasn’t having it. “I don’t care. Tell him it’s me, Tom, and that I want to talk. Don’t mention the girl.”
“The—?” Zaria began hotly, but Fletcher shot her a threatening look. She clamped her mouth shut as Tom’s demeanor abruptly came into focus. He wasfrightenedof Fletcher, and Fletcher was using that to their advantage.
“Will do,” Tom said, giving an awkward dip of his head before hurrying up a curved staircase and out of sight.
“What if Kane doesn’t want to see you?” Zaria hissed.
Fletcher’s jaw was vise tight. “He will.”
And then Tom was back, chest heaving and cheeks reddened. The prominent lump of his Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed. What kind of reception had news of Fletcher’s presence gotten from Kane? “You can follow me upstairs.”
