Jack tilted his head back as he swallowed the last oyster, tossing the grimy black shell off the bridge into the muddy river below. The dash of vinegar barley masked the staleness of them, but they were cheap and much more appealing than the fare to be found near his apartment. Aside from a mangy cat's leg that had been barbecued to a crisp, most of what passed as food in Southwark was barely recognisable.
He needed to make some more money and move somewhere with a bit of space. He'd been back less than a week and the sheen of nostalgia was already wearing off. London feeling more cramped than homely as his neighbours efforts to increase the population echoed through the tenement all day long.
It was getting close to six, so Jack took one last look at the tip of a setting sun before turning to his evening duties. The city streets were heavy with the underlying scent of horseshit, but it was better to be outdoors and moving again.
Dodging his way through a gap in carriages he crossed to the eastern side and headed for the office. He was about to open the door when he got a call from his right.
"Jack!"
Reed was standing at the corner, a black coach nearby with its door ajar. As he approached he noticed the weave, a high collared trench coat, wasn't the only thing Reed had added to her wardrobe. A slight bulge at her left hip suggested a pistol was hidden beneath.
"Climb in. The driver knows where we are going, apparently all too familiar with the place."
"Not as familiar as id like!" croaked the withered old goat, baring all three remaining teeth with a grin.
"I'm not sure it's the same place Ms Taylor. I don't think he'd be allowed in."
"No, he explained that. He's driven others there apparently, come on." Reed hoped up and took a seat, Jack sitting across and latching the small door behind.
"I trust your rest was revitalising?" The driver whipped the horses to a start and the carriage rattled forward.
"Not exactly, no" Jack spared the details, rubbing a temple in memory.
"Well help me with this murder and if all goes to plan, ill have that back pay of yours waiting at the end."
Reed had been looking out the window but made eye contact at as she finished her sentence. Jack held her gaze in a moment's silence, trying to gauge who exactly it was sitting opposite.
"You're not one of us, his majesty's eyes. Lord Bembridge delegates power to you, a man who would otherwise tell us how to take a piss." A soft feminine grunt signalling familiarity with such a trait. "And now you tell me you can get my back pay that a lawyer told me I've a sodomites chance in a nunnery of seeing? Who exactly are you Ms Taylor."
"When you put the question so eloquently how could a lady refuse to answer?" Reed lifted her arm, presenting a gloved hand to the space between them. "You are the king's eyes, I am the hand. Or one of them anyway. I'm told there are ten of us in all."
"And what do the hands do?"
Reed sighed, rolling her eyes as she answered. "It's a metaphor Jack, use your imagination"
So Jack still had no bloody idea who or what Reed was, brilliant.
"So do you have some kind or mark, like our rings? To let others know who you are."
"It's a gloved hand Jack, the king doesn't want to leave fingerprints. If you don't already know who we are, you're not meant to know. Hence I have you, in case I need anything to be a bit more….official."
"And here was me thinking I was just along for your protection." Reed let out a bark of laughter, eyes burning with amusement
"You protect me, my knight in shining armour?" Reed crossed her hands over her heart, eyes fluttering in exaggerated sarcasm. "How noble. But tell me Jack is that coat of yours a weave?"
"No"
"And if you come up against someone who has one, how are you going to kill them?"
Jack shrugged "Aim for the head. Wait, how would you? you don't have one of those guns right?"
"No I don't" Reed unclipped a low button on her coat, the opening parting as she lifted her right leg and rested a heel on the bench opposite. The knee high boot rubbed the outside of jacks leg , and as Reed leaned forward Jack's eyes couldn't help but trace the bare neckline down to an opening that stopped achingly short of immodesty.
Reed pulled the stiletto from the sheath in her boot and handed it to Jack. The twelve inch sliver of steel glistened the faintest green, the base only a fingers breadth thick. Half way along the blade curved in either side, tapering to an incredibly fine point almost invisible to the eye. Jacks artificial lens in particular could barely make out the last inch.
"That can go straight through a weave. So long as you get the angle right"
Jack looked up from the blade. It wouldn't do as much damage as a bayonet, but it could still kill if you hit the right spots.
"I didn't' think blades could get through a weave, though you would need to hit them right in the heart with this. Assuming it didn't break on the way in."
Reed took the blade back and tucked it home but leaving her boot where it was.
"Most people don't understand what a weave is. It's just like mail, only incredibly fine rings, so fine it looks like cotton or wool. But if you have something thin enough, it can slip in between those rings." Reed looked out the window and dropped her boot to the floor as she added. "And as for where you'd need to hit them, if you break the blade after stabbing them it releases a poison. Half a minute and they convulse so hard they break their own back."
Regardless of who you were trying to kill, there was something distasteful about using poison. Jack could see Reed wasn't overly fond of the idea either, refusing to look back inside.
"We're here"
The carriage eased to a halt right at the alley Jack had been perched in the night before, the Cat full of nines across the way. With a quick jolt the carriage jumped forth again, the driver swinging the horses round to pull up at the door.
Reed picked up a chequered scarf that had been hanging inside the door, wrapping it around her face and neck.
"We wouldn't want to tarnish my reputation, frolicking about in such places"
The driver opened the door and Reed stepped out, keeping her head down as she hurried up the steps to the door. Jack followed more casually, looking around the lifeless street in a vain attempt to find Bembridge's other eyes. The same midget from the night before opened the door and stepped aside to admit the lady, but moved to block Jack off as he found his more modest clothing wanting.
"He's with me" came Reed's muffled voice, prompting the midget to grudgingly give ground. Shutting the door behind them the butler waddled behind the counter, his head rising into view as he climbed a short stair to draw level with the guest's height. Unlike the surrounding streets, the interior exuded opulence. Heavy red curtains sectioned off great rooms to either side of the foyer, and golden rails skirted a curved marble stair at the end of the hall. Somewhere out of site a string quartet tested their strings for the evening's entertainment.
"What would my lady's pleasure be this evening?" the midget emphasised the word "pleasure" with all the subtlety of a draught horse.
"Well if you want to please me" Reed ran a hand through her hair as the scarf fell away, a flirtatious note taking to her voice. "You could answer a question for me."
"Anything my lady desires." The butler mimicking Reed as she leaned in, entranced by her attention. Evidently he didn't get many female customers.
"Who left here by the back door around 1 am? Did they have any arguments with the other guests, and did anyone follow them out?"
"Wait, what?" The midget shaking his head clear.
"Who left here around 1 am by the back door last night?"
"I can't tell you that!" the midget leaning back looking aghast. "The privacy of our guests is paramount, I could never share such information!"
Reed straightened with a sigh "Well, I tried." Stepping to one side "Jack, if you don't mind"
Accepting his call to action Jack jumped in, leaning over the bench without hesitation and lifting the midget clean into the air.
"Beelzebub!" screamed the butler, his little legs kicking for purchase.
Steam hissed as a two latches in the roof slid back, a bronze swivel gun dropping from each. If they were loaded with grapeshot anything this side of the bench would be in the firing line. A wide grin swept the butlers face as Reed quietly shuffled underneath the guns, sliding into relative safety.
"Voice activated. One word from me and your mincemeat!" Jack paused, looking from his hostage to the guns and back.
"You do realise you'd be joining me right?" The smile faded quickly from the midgets face. For a moment Jack had been worried the little man wouldn't care, he'd heard rumours they were prone to suicidal tendencies.
"Um Jack, if you wouldn't mind putting him down." Jack tilted his head to see past the butler. Reed had taken a seat on a plush chair out of the way, calmly leaning back with crossed legs. "I meant you should show him your ring, not molest him."
"Oh right" Jack dropped the butler, his little legs crumpling as he hit the floor. "The King's constabulary, now answer the question!"
"I remember, you said that last night. You think I'd forget that eye? I'm still not compromising our guest's privacy!"
"He's dead." Chimed in Reed.
"What, who's dead" The butler asked, trying to get up before he was pinned back down by Jacks boot.
"The guest that left by the back door around one. And if you don't answer me all of London will know. Just like they'll all know you don't care for your patron's safety." This brought a pause for thought, the butler weighing up his options.
"Let me up, I I'll get the madam." Jack looked over to Reed, who gave a nod. He took his foot back and helped the midget to his feet, dusting down the muddy print from his black vest. In truth he hadn't enjoyed throwing the little man around, there was no challenge to it. There was one thing still bothering him though, stopping the butler before he waddled too far.
"Ah, could you put those things away now?" Pointing to the brass swivel guns.
"I need to do it manually from upstairs. The chap that installed them only gave us two words, one to open, the other to fire. Terribly inconvenient but that's technology for you." While the butler continued his march toward the stairs Jack moved forward, joining Reed out of the firing arc just to be safe.
"That went splendidly, don't you think Jack?" Chirped Reed.
A few moments later a woman in her late thirties sashayed down the staircase, a red dress ballooning out at the waist while a black corset squeezed some ample bosom in defiance of gravity. A shade gaudy perhaps, but it certainly set the tone.
"If you would care to join me in the lounge?" The madam did not linger, continuing off to her right through a heavy set of drapes. The pair followed her through, Jack becoming slightly depressed at the luxury's he would never have. Sets of deep leather arm chairs encircled small tables throughout the room, a large oak framed fireplace crackled away in the corner. The madam sat on the very edge of a chair, signalling for them to join her as she snapped her fingers.
"A drink perhaps?" a woman dressed as a male waiter appeared, hair tied up and back with a black top hat and matching bow tie. Maybe this night wouldn't all be bad.
"I doubt we'll be taking that much of your time madam." said Reed
"And you say I don't have manners! Someone offers you a drink and you refuse, I won't stand for it Ms Taylor" Proclaimed Jack, the champion for proper etiquette having already manhandled a servant. "Rum if you please, two if Ms Taylor continues to abstain"
Reed stared at Jack with a small shake of her head "Do you have any Sherry?"
"Two Sherry's and the gentleman's rum" finished the madam. "Now, I'm told you wish to know the names of one of my guests. Something unfortunate befell him I am told?"
"Yes, he was killed shortly after leaving your establishment, at the back door at 1 am" Reed answered, Jack all too happy to take the back seat as he watched for the waiters return from the corner of his eye.
"We had several guests leave close to that hour, though only one through the rear exit. But first I would need to know who you are exactly?"
"My associate works as a constable, one of his majesty's eyes. I am an investigator, aiding in this particular matter." The madam looked unimpressed.
"I've heard of these kings' eyes; sound more like spy's than constables to me. However, if you can agree to keep this matter quiet I will tell you what I know." The waiter returned and placed the three glasses on the table, the group remaining quiet until she turned to leave. "Only one man left from the back door last night. A Henry Cummins, not a regular here. I believe he is from up north, around Cambridge. He, and his wife, are staying at the Royal Oaks for the week."
"Did he get into any arguments, or did anyone leave just before him, perhaps by the front?"
"Ms Taylor was it? I won't be compromising any of my other clients, now if you will excuse me I have matters to attend to." The madam rose, leaving her drink untouched on the table. "Please feel free to finish your drinks, I'm sure you can see yourselves out." Reed sipped on her sherry, waiting for the madam to be out of ear shot before speaking.
"You saw the shooter Jack, could it have been a woman?" Jack polished off his rum, reaching across for the madams abandoned fortified wine.
"Could have been, it was dark and even with this eye I only saw their outline. About 5'6 and relatively slim, but it could have just been a slim man. Do you honestly think his wife did this, got her hands on a weapon no one in Britain knew existed just to shoot her husband for whoring around? Why not just cut his balls off in his sleep."
"Perhaps she was trying to avoid the noose, and I thought men were squeamish about such things, harming the crown jewels and all?"
"Exactly why I assumed that's what a scorned wife would do, this seems a bit less passionate don't you think?"
"Perhaps, still we should go talk to Mrs Cummins."
"Are you going to finish that?" Reed answered by draining her glass, sliding the empty vessel onto the table as she stood.
"Yep, and your paying."
"Wait what?" Red was already halfway to the drapes. "Shit."