“Frank’s not the most terrifying man in the Lower East Side, no matter that he apparently believes he is,” Bernie scoffed. “There are other far more powerful and frightening men out there, ones who’ll be retaking Frank’s territory after he gets carted off to jail.”
“As I said before,” Frank snarled, “I’ll be out before morning, just as soon as I contact my attorney.”
“You’d be smarter to stay in jail,” Bernie countered. “Not only did you mention Victor tonight, but you’ve also botched a job for a man who makes even Victor nervous. If you get back on the streets soon, I have a feeling you won’t be breathing for long.”
It was incredibly telling when Frank’s face drained of color, but before Gideon could ask a single question, Adelaide tapped a finger against the pepperbox, an action that immediately drew Frank’s attention. “You seem like an intelligent man, Frank, since you’ve carved out a place for yourself, and done so against great odds, given that you must have provoked men like this Victor Malvado and yet managed to stay alive over the past few years. It then stands to reason, what with how you completely bungled this particular job, that, as Bernie mentioned, your life is certainly in jeopardy now. However, if you cooperate with us, you may have a slight chance of surviving this ordeal. Granted, you’ll definitely find yourself behind bars soon, but I assume you’ll find that better than being dead.”
It was impossible for Gideon to not be impressed by Adelaide’s calm demeanor or the straightforward way she was dealing with Frank, especially after she’d been thrust into asituation that would have rattled some of the most seasoned of operatives.
Frank’s eyes narrowed on the pepperbox, giving a bit of a shudder when Adelaide lifted it up and casually aimed it his way before he darted a look to Gideon. “I’ll need some reassurances before I say anything else.”
“Reassurances about what?”
“That you’ll arrange for me to have a lenient sentence if I cooperate and that you’ll arrange for me to be housed in a jail that’s not in New York. I’ll be dead come morning if certain people learn I’ve talked.”
Gideon inclined his head. “I can manage that.”
Frank considered Gideon for a long moment before he nodded. “What else do you want to know?”
“I believe the most important thing right now is the name of the man who wants Sophia Campanini’s journals.”
“He’s a nasty piece of work,” Frank began. “He has access to enormous wealth, and I know he’s ruthless. He once bragged to me about how he secured that wealth, and when I say he used any means possible to increase his bank account, I’m not exaggerating. Sanctioned killings of men he viewed as competition was apparently common.”
“His name?” Gideon pressed.
Frank shot a glance to Bernie, who gave a quick shake of his head, which Frank apparently decided to ignore as he returned his attention to Gideon. “You promise you’ll honor my requests if I divulge that?”
“I have connections in very high places. Your requests won’t be a problem.”
Frank drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “It’s worth my life to tell you this, but the man who wants Sophia Campanini’s journal is ... Marshall Wilson.”
“Marshall Wilson?” Gideon repeated.
“He’s your man” was all Frank said before the front doorburst open, Gideon training his pistol on it a second later, only to lower it when Roland, along with a brigade of associates, rushed in.
Roland glanced around before his attention returned to Gideon. “Seems we’re late to the party. We got held up because we ran across men fleeing down Bleecker Street. I had a feeling, so we gave chase. Rounded all of them up, not that it was too difficult since most of them had been shot.” His gaze darted around the room, narrowing on Frank. “Is that Fitzsimmons?”
“It is. Adelaide shot him in the leg, making it impossible for him to escape with the men he came with.”
“Good job, Miss Duveen,” Roland said, his lips curving. “Seems as if those mornings spent at the shooting range have really paid off.”
Adelaide winced. “I wasn’t actually aiming to hit him, or the other man I shot, but in my defense, bullets were ricocheting around the room. I may have simply started firing willy-nilly.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Roland said before he began barking out orders to his men, directing Duncan and another associate to see Frank and Bernie off to a doctor, and then to jail. As Duncan strode over to Frank, Roland turned to the book agents. “We’ll need all of you to remain for a while because we’ll need to question everyone.”
Jeromy blinked. “None of us had anything to do with this.”
“You do if any of you claim Marshall Wilson as a client,” Adelaide said, rising to her feet and advancing on the book agents, who’d all gotten up from the floor and were now sitting around a table, looking rather stunned.
“I’ve never heard of Marshall Wilson before,” Jeromy said.
“Me either,” Clement proclaimed.
“Nor I,” William said, as the other five book agents, who’d been keeping themselves well-removed from the interrogation, nodded in unison.
Adelaide arched a brow. “You expect me to believe that noneof you were told to keep an eye out for a specific diary for one of your clients?”
William shifted in his chair. “I wasn’t approached by a client, per se, but I did hear rumors there was interest in an old diary penned by a young girl. We agents hear things, and then, well...”
