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“There’s more,” Kelly said.
There’s always more, James thought with no little frustration. He didn’t allow any of the concern he might have been feeling to show, though. Not in front of Kelly, where any display of weakness could be a weapon turned against him.
“Tell me,” James said easily, as though they had not lost weeks of preparation.
“They’re not bringing the goods across the bridge, like we originally thought.” Kelly took out one of his small cigarettes and didn’t bother to offer James one before he lit it. “They’re bringing everything in by boat.”
James tightened his grip on the gorgon’s head. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Kelly said. “After the mess at Khafre Hall, the Order has decided that bringing the goods over the bridge would leave them too vulnerable. But by boat?” Kelly took a long drag on his cigarette, the tip glowing as he squinted through the smoke. “There are a lot of docks in the city. Word is, the Order figures that this plan will make it harder to predict where the boat will arrive.”
“They’re expecting an attack,” James said, unsurprised. The Order would have been stupid not to expect some difficulty, especially after Khafre Hall.
“It seems that way,” Kelly agreed.
It doesn’t matter, James reminded himself, adjusting his grip on his cane. Beneath his hand, the sharp outlines of the serpents that formed the gorgon’s hair pressed into his palm. The cool energy beneath the silvery surface was a balm to any anxiety he might feel. It was a reminder of the possibility that lay ahead. He’d been working diligently on accessing the magic held within the cane, and already he could sense the power there beginning to answer his call. Once he had the ring, he would have everything he needed to unlock that power completely.
“This change,” James said. “It doesn’t give us much time to plan.”
Kelly shrugged. “It doesn’t give you much time. My boys are ready to disable the Death Avenue train and lead the wagons right where we want them, but if we can’t get our hands on the goods, the risk is all for nothing. Have you made any progress figuring out what the protections might be?”
They’d learned already that the Order was planning on using some kind of ritual to protect the wagon carrying their treasures, but James hadn’t been able to quite figure out what it might entail. Maybe if Dolph’s journal hadn’t gone missing, he would have already had the answer.
Still, the information Kelly was providing might be of use, even if the new timeline was nothing short of a disaster. The Manhattan Solstice sounded like some kind of a fantasy that only the rich could devise, but James had enough experience under his belt not to discount anything when it came to the Order. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I trust you’ll let me know what you discover?” Kelly said.
“Of course,” James lied, inclining his head. Once he figured out what the Order had planned, he’d tell Kelly just enough to let that particular problem take care of itself.
Outside the cafe, the streets were half in shadow, an effect of the slant of the sun and the tightly crowded buildings. There was still plenty of daylight left, but James didn’t have any interest in lingering too long in Kelly’s territory. Luckily, the man he needed to talk to was already waiting for him.
John Torrio was at the corner, talking with another of Kelly’s lackeys, Razor Riley. The two had been more than helpful in manipulating Harte Darrigan into helping with the job at Khafre Hall, but James knew that Torrio was already chafing under Kelly’s control. It was one thing to be taken in, trained, and groomed by one of the most powerful criminals in the city. It was another to remain his lackey when you’d outgrown that particular role.
James himself understood that feeling. It had been difficult to take orders from Dolph in those final few weeks, when James had known how close he was to his own victory. It had taken patience and fortitude to continue pretending, to hide what he was planning from Dolph, but his effort had paid off. Unlike James, Torrio was every bit as impatient and fiery as his boss. It was a convenient weakness that James had every intention of exploiting.
He gave Torrio a small nod of acknowledgment, but continued on, walking in the direction of the Strega. It took a few blocks for Torrio to finally come up beside him.
“You have news about Viola?” James asked, not pausing as the two strolled side by side.
Dolph’s journal had gone missing the day after Viola had charged into the Strega, and James knew she’d been the one to take it. The loss hadn’t bothered him, not when the Aether suggested that the theft had been necessary. The journal was nothing more than a pawn to be sacrificed in order to move his game forward, and besides, James had already read over Dolph’s nearly obsessive notes enough to no longer need them. But he still needed to understand exactly what Viola was up to, and the Aether didn’t reveal those sorts of details.
“I got the information you asked for… if you have what you promised.” Torrio jerked his head toward one of the basement bars that populated the area.
James decided it wasn’t worth arguing about the meeting place. Not when their timeline had been cut so much shorter, and not when he needed Torrio on his side.
The saloon was like most of the basement bars in the city—dark and stuffy, smelling of sweat and stale lager. It was also the type of place where no one paid attention, and if they did, they certainly didn’t talk.
“Your boss might not be smart enough to see that the world is far bigger than New York City, but I’m certainly glad that you are.” James pulled the thin packet from inside his vest and held it out. Torrio grabbed for it, but James held firm. “Now, about Viola…”
“She’s still spending her days up in Harlem,” Torrio told him.
“With the same group as before?” James asked. He hadn’t quite understood how Viola had come to know the person who owned the house—a colored man who operated a small newspaper in the city—but she’d been sneaking off from her brother’s watch to meet people there fairly regularly.
Not people, James thought. Sundren. The same Sundren he’d seen with Jianyu at Evelyn DeMure’s apartment before the gala. It wasn’t a coincidence. It meant that he’d been right. With the missing journal and Viola’s continued meetings, it indicated that Jianyu was likely in play now as well… and that it was past time for them to be brought to heel.
“That isn’t news,” James said, impatient. He still held firmly to the envelope. “Is there anything else?”
Torrio’s eyes narrowed a little. “Maybe. If your information there is good.” He nodded to the envelope.
