A/N: Thank you everyone for giving such positive criticisms of Highwayman's first two chapters, and to those now following the story. I am honestly humbled and have taken all comments to heart while working through the story as I planned it. I can only hope that I don't disappoint.
"Sir, scouts report that Detective Smith received your message through the Brown woman" a messenger announced into the darkened room.
"Excellent…" the man sat with his back to the doorway, the old house's window boarded up in front of him as his legs rested upon an dusty table, he took a drag from his cigar as his minion waited. When no further information came, and the sound of shifting feet reached the smoker's ears, he called aloud "Are you going to leave or am I going to have to kill you?"
"Sorry, Mr Saxon!" the minion scarpered as Saxon smirked. He took another drag from his cigar, mulling things over as he pictured in his head John's possible reactions to the news – he had always been so bloody sensitive. Yes, it had been a time since he had actually seen John; he had heard about the Detective's father's death in the papers some years ago, remembered debates raging as to whether the famous Constable's two sons would take on and move on up in the police force and then… John vanished.
Yes, that was bad for Harry: John had known about Harold's murder of his father, had seen Harry leave his house that night and never return. True he hadn't handed over Harry (not that anyone would have been able to find him anyway) but there was still the fact that John had the upper hand. He had always had the upper hand on Harold… until now of course.
"I wonder…" Saxon snubbed out the cigar on the table, placing his feet back on the floor as he stood. Was it too early to go out there and claim another of Smith's precious friends? He had had so many cases by now, enough publicity to keep his head above water… so who could he claim next?
"Minion!" Saxon decidedly bellowed, turning his attention to the door as he now leant back against the table, arms folded.
Seconds later the door to the room opened, "Yes, Mr Saxon, sir?"
"Who are Smith's latest associates? To whom did my scouts find him with?"
"He was located at the Williams' Hospital some six miles from here with his current companion, Melody Pond, along with her niece, husband and her niece's father-in-law"
"The 'famous' Williams, father/son duo… Well I suppose he could have done better. But the niece… would she be a regular one to leave on her own, or even with her aunt? It's a possibility. Tell you what, get ready the horses; we shall ride in within the hour" moving forward past his minion, Saxon entered the barely-lit corridor of the old abandoned house, the sounds of his other men down the corridor greeting his ears. He turned back to the minion whom was watching him cautiously. "Well? Horses…?"
Forty-five minutes later, Saxon was charging through the forest, five of his best men in tow as he reached one of his check points. Halting the horse within an inch of its life he suddenly jumped off his steed's back. When his men had stopped and the sounds of the forest reached his ears, Saxon let off a low, loud, wolfish growl. It was met by the sounds of another cry, this time a wolfish howl from the distance. A few seconds later an arrow soared towards the small group and imbedded itself within a tree. Snapping off the wooden shaft, leaving the arrowhead alone, he tipped the thin wooden pole at an angle. A small piece of paper fell into the Highwayman's hand – the shaft being hollow, but strong. Rolling the paper into his hand, Saxon read before looking up.
"I shall ride north alone; the niece was seen entering a carriage singularly. I aim for side-along breaking and entering; you will hold back here and wait for my signal. If I do not return within thirty minutes, you know what to do." With that Saxon mounted his steed once more, not looking back as he kicked the horse into speed, riding quickly and smoothly away from his loyal and pathetic followers.
It wasn't long until he reached the road leading towards the City of Gloucester when he stopped, listening out for the sound of a horse. Looking around he couldn't see anything moving or hear anything coming but knew he was closer to Greater Leadworth from here and by the sound of it, the scout had seen Mrs Williams leaving some time ago, so it was reasonable safe enough to presume that the carriage containing the young woman would be leading to the City instead of the Village.
Riding once more, now up the road toward the city, his decisions paid off when a plain wooded carriage came into view, Saxon speeding up his horse until he was side by side with the vehicle. Timing himself carefully, ignoring anything else, Harry positioned himself side-saddle in the speeding horse, careful not to slip off until he was as close to the carriage as possible, leaping at the last second to cling onto the side of the transportation. Reaching instinctually down to the handle of the door and forcing the entrance open, Saxon slid in and pulled his gun from its holder at the same moment.
He barely took much notice to the redheaded occupant, somehow still looking out of the window and away from him. As Saxon held himself up through the rocking of movement, he said clearly: "Your money and dress, Mrs Williams, and then you can pass on a message to a new acquaintance of yours…"
"I don't think that will be necessary" came the reply in a surprisingly deep and slightly familiar voice, the figure turning to look at Harry with a smirk, "for one I'm not 'Mrs Williams'" stated Detective Smith, moving some red strands of faux hair from his eyes, "and secondly this dress is worth nothing, and I carry no change upon me." With that, Smith leapt at Saxon, the robber too stunned by the stupidity of the situation to register what had happened until John had him handcuffed to the inside door handle of the transportation vehicle.
As the Detective sat back and removed the wig, Saxon glowered at him, growling lowly, "Release me you fool!"
"That really is no way to treat an old friend, Harry" Smith simply smiled, observing the white gloves he had upon his hands, Saxon able to tell that the man was debating whether to remove them or not, and it seemed he decided upon the latter as he continued, "for that was what we were, if I remember. Tell me, Harold, why would such an old and dear friend such as yourself go after my newer acquaintances – surely it isn't out of jealousy?"
He was doing it again – Harold thought as he strained at the handcuff with no avail – John was being so smarmy and full of himself, he had the higher ground over Harold and knew it, damn fine. So how was Harold going to play this, he wondered, what was he going to do…?
"Why would I be jealous of you, Detective?" Putting emphasis upon the last word, Harold positioned himself upon the seat opposite John, a faux smile upon his face, the look presenting a cool and calm interest while within the man was screaming.
"Well if you really cared for the answer, I'd have to say it was simply because I make money… and enough of it to survive, legally" John stated, his eyebrows rising in a comical fashion, as if this was a side topic he would rather get out of the way.
"Huh" Saxon muttered, "if you say so…"
"Needless questions aside, I repeat: Why are you targeting my acquaintances? Surely it can't be to do with your father ten years ago?"
"Leave that bastard out of it!" Saxon snapped before he could stop himself, wincing at his own words as he immediately tried to cover them; "I have many men waiting for my return – they will hunt and kill anything that gets in their way until they find me!"
"Good lord!" Smith exclaimed, irony dripping with every syllable, "You really don't think yourself Robin Hood, surely? Harold Saxon and his Murderous Band of Madmen… then again there is a certain charm in that. Yes, I think that's headline material for when I drag you personally into Scotland Yard…"
"You plan on arresting me then? Risk your little friends back in Leadworth?"
"Oh no, where's the fun in the kill when there's not much of a hunt?" Again the eyebrow raise, a smirk, the arms folded.
"You plan to kill me then?" It was Harold's turn to raise his eyebrows, now genuinely curious towards the Detective's words.
"Kill you? Dear lord no. I couldn't harm a single bone in your body – the reverse of your thoughts towards myself, I am sure – but a phase is a phrase nonetheless and that one does have a certain dramatic quality to it. But I shall ask you one final time though: Why are you hunting and killing the people I know? Is it truly because I know you murdered your father?"
"If that's what you want to believe" Saxon muttered, now getting frustrated at the conversation, itching to get as far away from the carriage and this part of road immediately.
"Fine then… I prefer to find out things for myself rather than have it handed to me on a silver platter. It was wonderful to actually see you again after all these years, Harry" Smith edged towards the half-closed, rattling door of the carriage to which Saxon had entered, placing the red wig back upon his head with a smirk before adding, "Oh, and I lost the key to those handcuffs" before leaping from the door.
"JOHN!" Saxon bellowed, yanking at the cuffs once more, knowing immediately that it was too late and that John was far behind. He began pulling violently upon the handle to the door, forcing the screws out with every pull. So distracted was he at freeing himself, that he didn't even pay attention to the driver, whom too had also jumped from the carriage seconds after the Detective had.
