Page 74 of Hawk & Sparrow

The union president looked up, surprised. He was holding an empty pail.

“Miss Evans?”

“I heard there was trouble,” she said, out of breath as she reached him. She looked up at the building again. “What’s happened?”

Cliff ran a hand across his face. Up close, Vesper saw he looked exhausted.

“The fire started on the fourth floor of the textile factory, unknown cause,” he said. “It’s mostly women and children up there.”

Vesper’s eyes widened in horror.

“The structure isn’t sound enough for the firefighters to climb up. Apparently the doors are locked from the outside too. We don’t know why.”

“How many workers are in there?”

Cliff met her gaze. His eyes were wet. “I’m told at least fifty.”

Vesper felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. The people in that building were trapped, just like her own family had been trapped. With the smell of smoke filling her lungs and the heat of the fire on her face, she could feel herself being dragged back to that night.

“Everyone! If I could have your attention!”

Vesper and Cliff both looked in the direction of the new sharp voice. One of the firefighters was holding a red megaphone.

“This building is no longer secure,” he said. “We need everyone to stand back!”

“My wife’s in there!” one of the men standing a few feet away shouted. His face was ashen. “And both of my daughters!”

“I know there is concern,” the firefighter tried again. “But if you all could just—”

His words were cut off as a coach came racing down the road. Vesper barely had enough time to wonder how it had gotten through the traffic that had stopped Maximilian’s coach before two well-dressed gentlemen got out. One was tall and skinny, with an elegant mustache and top hat; the other was shorter, rounder, and bald. They both ran over to the building and peered up at it, looking horrified. The bald man swore.

“Gentlemen.” The firefighter turned to address them now. “This street’s closed to the public. I need you both to return to your coach, and—”

“That’s our building!” the taller man said. “We own the lot! Can’t you people do something?”

“We are.” The firefighter sounded testier and testier by the minute. “But right now, we need everyone to stand back.”

“Well, hurry up!” The shorter bald gentleman was now glaring at the firefighter. He pointed toward the building. “The merchandise stored in that building is worth hundreds of thousands of gild!”

Vesper flinched, and something shifted in Cliff’s face. He turned toward the two gentlemen.

“Merchandise?” he said in a low voice. “Is that really all you care about right now? There are workers trapped in there who can’t get out and we don’t know why.”

The bald man turned his glare toward Cliff. “The doors to the work floor are locked per our company’s protocol.”

Vesper felt the blood drain from her face. Cliff stared at the man in horror.

“What?”

“They were taking too many bathroom and smoke breaks,” the taller, mustached man cut back in. “So we implemented a policy. It worked too; we’ve made several hundred more gild per week.”

“I don’t understand.” Vesper’s voice sounded hollow in her ears. “Are you telling me you locked those workers in so that they couldn’t get out? That’s inhumane.”

The mustached man looked at her the same way he might have looked at a cockroach on the wall. “Young lady, we’re running a business, not a charity. Be assured that every single one of our workers signs an agreement that says they will comply with all company policies. No one’s forcing them.” He turned back to Cliff, and nodded toward his B.L.U. pin. “Not everyone wants to unionize, you know. Maybe, if people like you did an honest day’s work instead of running around this city sowing dissent and discord, you’d actually make something of yourself.”

Cliff started as though he’d been slapped.

“That’s the problem with you people,” he said, his tone scarily calm. “You sit there with your money and your comforts, and you pretend that it’s the product of hard work.” He shook his head. “The truth is, you make your profits off the backs of the hardworking men, women, and children of this city. The same ones you won’t give basic rights to.” He pointed to the building. “The same ones you’d watch burn.”