Chapter 25

The little black van swayed and rocked while speeding on the cobbled streets. At the back Christian felt like poker dice being thrown about inside the cup. A fitting analogy to think about, given he hadn't a clue where they were going. He more or less knew the why and the who. Charles "Wag" McDonald, the boss of the Elephant Boys was seeking his presence. He wished wherever the dice may fall, they would fall in his favour. Dust was filling the back of the van, the air felt warm and dry on his nostrils. The stare of the guys opposite him was blank, leaving no clues. Complete poker faces. The trail of a sweat tear run down his temple.

"All right boys?", he asked, while breaking into a smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suggest you keep your wits for laters, Feathers...", the guy with his cap hung low, shadowing his washed out blue eyes, murmured between his teeth to Christian.

Christian's stare froze on the thug's face, became an ice wall, hiding all his thoughts behind. He already knew this trip wasn't good. Rose came to his mind. Worry descended. Mixed with fear. What would he say to her? If and when he could get away. He was almost certain, this impromptu ride was connected with the fact he had decided to withdraw the Raven from terrorising the safes of the London's rich and famous mansions. No more Black Feathers he had said to Billy. Billy had warned him but he chose to ignore it. "Wag" McDonald knew when to strike though. When to best slide the razor. On his fucking gallery opening day. When people would notice he'd be missing. When he would have to make excuses. When to maximise his fear. Getting on the wrong side of the "Wag" was serious.

His timing to retire his secret life couldn't have been worse. The war between McDonald and his Elephant Boys who had sided with Billy Kimber against that psychopath Sabini, was getting more and more violent. The stakes as to who will govern London were higher than ever.

Billy Pike, who Christian had befriended on a drunken winter night at the Duke over on Waterloo Road a couple of years ago, had been one of them boys. Black Feathers was born then. Out of booze soaked dare and anger over his aristocrat real father, the Raven opened its wings that night. Billy had been intrigued. Here was this guy who kept buying pints for everyone, obviously from not around his neighbourhood, and definitely not having lived rough in his life, flamboyant, loud and crazy as fuck, having drunk half the bar when he cursed all rich bastards, in love with their money and diamonds. Sod them all! He had shouted. Wouldn't it be good if someone lighten that load off of them? Christian had whispered to Billy's ear on a friends headlock.

"You crazy bastard", Billy had said between fits of laughter. He liked this Christian guy.

"Too right my man!" Christian had shouted, banging his hand to the table, making the pints glasses jump and jingle. "Want to see how much of a crazy bastard I am?", he had asked.

People were looking at their corner with amused looks, turning slowly to curiousness. Billy didn't need the attention. And nor this poor loon who kept going about this fucking rich bitch who let him high and dry over some other rich bastard. He put his arm around Christian's neck, prompting him to move towards the door.

"Listen here Christian, my man...how about getting out to let cold air blow our faces, huh?", he had asked.

They went out the moment the rain was almost horizontal, travelling with great speed on the direction of the wind. Christian's face turned serious, as if he had sobered up in a mere minute. They were getting soaked.

"Billy, are you with me?", he asked with half a breath and teeth chattering from the cold that was penetrating their bones but there was a fire blazing inside his sky blue eyes. How could he say no? He was part of the fucking Elephant boys, any kind of crazy adventure was already part of his blood.

He nodded, laughed, called him crazy bastard one more time and they both were swallowed by the darkness of the streets they started walking to. Billy was gonna be his eyes outside, looking out for any bluebottles around. Anything else, on the inside, it was Christian's domain. The way he moved and the ease with which he had slid inside the house, he was like a shadow creeping in from the cracks on the wall. Billy hadn't seen any other guy being so nimble and quick to move. As if he was born to do this. Christian could feel the adrenaline overtaking everything inside him. It was to become his fix, his drug. Upping two fingers to his life so far. It had been fake anyways. So why not accept it? Fake life is not real. Nothing is real. His parents hadn't been real. A stolen baby out of some aristocrat duke who didn't even bother to look him up. Who knew who his real mother was...

Went in, came out just as quiet. Billy's eyes turned to saucer size when he gazed in quick at the pickings. Diamond rings and strings of pearls, golden bangles. Christian didn't want any of it. For him, it was the act that matter. Billy could take everything and make sure it went to people who needed the money. He had no choice but show the stash to his boss. If he kept it a secret, and there were no secrets kept from Charles, he risked getting his legs broken. And that would have been the best outcome. He could have it even worse. Perhaps even getting done in, end up a floater inside the Thames.

The tyres screeched to a halt. The same brakes who stopped them, made his thoughts on the Raven disperse like road dust. His heart beat quickened. The back door opened and he was prompted to come out. He had no idea where they were, the street was quiet. Could they be in Elephant and Castle? McDonald was notorious of keeping his headquarters secret, which was wise move considering the affairs he was in with Kimble and Sabini. They made their way into an old warehouse. It was mostly empty apart from some random wooden crates scattered around, big old chains left on the floor, covered in rust. He smelled abandonment, as they walked further in the building, illuminated only by beams of evening sunlight passing through the windows, hitting the stone floor slabs like gold rods. Their steps echoed in the air. Christian had concluded that this place wasn't the headquarters of the Elephant boys. Perhaps it was just a place they used to settle accounts that had fallen in arrears. Like his. Towards the back, the place turned windowless with the smell of dampness coming from the walls. Light was coming out of bulbs handing down from the ceiling. A desk had been placed there. There were a few men standing around, a couple of women even. He looked at them and recognised at least one being at his exhibition event. He had spoken to her. Unusually tall and broad shouldered for a woman, she was hard to not get noticed. They were all quite elegant dressed, the women in beaded evening dresses, long feathers on their hairdos , the men in sharp three piece suits, hair combed back, looking slick with brilliantine. Almost everyone smoked. A cloud of tobacco filled the space.

They stopped a good three meters away from the desk.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't fucking Picasso", Christian heard the bass voice of the man behind the desk.

Charles "Wag" McDonald must had been in his mid-forties. He looked dapper and had the handsome face of a devil. But his stare...it was a fearless one, balancing on the edge between looking safe to trust and malevolent at the same time. It could change by anything and everything, like the spark that sets off the dynamite. Before, Christian's face turned to stone, the last face that filled his mind was Rose. He cursed the time she met him. He wanted a straight life for the both of them, but his past seemed to having caught up. He wished to be able to go back to her that evening. While, keeping his silence, the man spoke again.

"You must know who I am...", he said.

"I do", replied Christian after a moment of silence. The voices echoed in the empty space.

He caught with the edge of his stare the worried eyes of his friend, Billy, who stood at a distance on his left.

As if McDonald had followed this slight movement of Christian's stare, he turned and looked at Billy himself.

"Your friend, Billy here, has told us that you also go now with the name of Christian Blake", he commented and turned his eyes back to Christian. "Is that right?"

"It is" Christian replied once again. "Christian Blake is my name"

"But...you see Christian...me and the boys here prefer to call you Black Feathers...", his deep voice stood to each of the words that made the name of his alter ego. "Do you mind that?", he asked while crossing the fingers of his hands on the desk.

"You can call me whatever you fucking like" Christian said in a sudden burst of anger, which had been simmering in the depths of his mind.

Like lightning, a closed fist landed hard on his ribs. His body folded reacting to the sharp jab of pain that had stolen the breath from inside his lungs. One of McDonald's goons that accompanied him, hadn't hesitated. Arrogance to the face of their boss was not going to be tolerated.

He heard McDonald tutting. "If you are as careless with you brush, as you are with you mouth boy...I doubt you'll be worth the paint you use for your bloody paintings".

Christian let his palms rest on his knees, bending forward still for a minute, trying to catch his breath. He coughed a couple of times and got up.

"Now come over here and sit down", McDonald ordered and one of the guys brought a chair.

He took a few steps and sat down. They could stare at each other from opposite sides of the desk. The smile on McDonald's eyes was a hard one, without true emotions. Christian waited to hear what he wanted to say.

"What's that business of retiring Black Feathers, that I hear my boy?", he finally made his point known. Christian more or less had also known that this was the cause of his latest troubles. He took a breath, without taking his eyes away from the hardened criminal.

"I can do whatever I want with the Feathers...", Christian said with a measured voice, "And I'm not your boy..."

He heard a shuffle behind him, the guys moving closer. With a raise of his palm, the boss ordered them to stop.

"Fair enough", he commended and shrugged his shoulders, "wrong description from my part, forgive me".

Gang bosses never ask for forgiveness. And if they do, it usually isn't a good sign. It is more like the side manoeuvring of a cobra, changing position to strike from another angle.

Cold heavy silence spread for the next couple of minutes. Just when Christian was beginning to lose his patience and was almost ready to get up and walk away from this, a certain name dropped that made his insides freeze to complete standstill.

"The Scarlet Rose..."

The voice echoed between the old damp walls. Cold fear moistened Christian's skin. He kept silent and still like a statue.

"I hear it's a great painting...", he added and turned to one of the women, that Christian remembered from the Gallery. "Isn't that so, Alice?", he asked the woman.

"Oh, it is something to look at all right", she said with a mock posh accent, while her eyes looked sly when they fell on Christian, under the ill light coming from the hanging bulbs.

"What's the name of that woman in the painting?", he asked the woman.

Christian's body tensed. He could lunge and grab McDonald's neck. Squeeze it, till he snuffed the life out of him. They would kill him, no doubt, but Rose would be safe. What would they need Rose for with him dead?

"Rose White, I believe", she replied. "American...Looks loaded"

Christian had reached his limit. He jumped off his seat. Rage blazed in his mind, his eyes blanked.

"I'll kill you", he managed to shout, before two men grabbed him from his shoulders and dragged him back.

"Leave her out of this", his voice came out rough as he was being held.

McDonald stood up and walked towards Christian. He stopped in front of him. His eyes measured him up.

"Rough him up and then throw him somewhere", he said without taking his eyes off his flustered face.

"Black Feathers will disappear when I let him disappear...boy", he said with his face inches away from Christian's stare.

"If you want to keep your Rose safe", he concluded with a cold smile.

He turned away. The sound of his steps was covered by fists pummelling without rest, Christian's body till he was down. His breathing was hard. Jabs of intense pain pierced his torso. It was all his fault. Whatever would happen, his main priority was to keep the woman he had come to love safe. The men who beat him up, grabbed him, pulled him up and dragged him back to the van. After twenty minutes towards an unknown destination, the doors opened and he was kicked out. He turned to look at the guy who had pushed him out.

"Billy Pike will be in contact", he shouted before closing the doors and the van speeded out of his sight.

With slow moves, he managed to stand up. He hugged his sides and groaned in pain. Went in the first pub that was on his way and made his way to the toilet. He stood in front of the sink, examining his face on the mirror. He looked like shit, although they hadn't punched him on the face, most probably because they needed him to go back to Lord Wooster's mansion for his party. The one that was put together for his opening. He laughed with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had to go there quick. Make an appearance and take Rose out of there. Who knows who else was watching her there?

He lifted his shirt. Big red patches, some of them already turning blue were covering his torso. He stretched and shoved his shirt inside his trousers with care. Splashed some water to his face, and combed his hair back with his fingers. The fire in his eyes was still there. He couldn't wait to meet with that bastard, Billy, whenever that would be. For now, the plan was to hail a cab. Not long after, Christian was on his way to Belgravia.

—

Lord Richard Wooster had been known to be a great patron of arts. Artists were fighting for his endorsement. For Christian's good luck, he had happened to be seating at Sir Witt's table at Rules, the night when he and Candy had been out on their first proper date. On their way out from the restaurant, Christian had seen Sir Witt and he had sat in their company for a while with Candy.

When the news came out about Christian having secured a slot for an exhibition at the prestigious Whitechapel gallery, he visited him at his flat in Chelsea. Christian showed him some of the paintings, Richard gave also his advice on certain pieces since he had been considered of being one of the best art critics around. He gushed with much enthusiasm when he saw his Scarlet Rose. "This should be your centre piece, Christian!", he had said back then. After a talk Christian had with her later that same evening, it had been decided. Scarlet Rose would be shown at the exhibition.

Never before Candy had revealed so much of herself to people. It wasn't her nudity. But the intimacy she revealed, her face in all her vulnerability, not hiding behind hopeful smiles, or sadness tears. The truest of hers had been on that painting, for everyone to see.

The party was on full swing. Only that the person of honour wasn't there. Lord Wooster had wanted to say a few words at some point and that point had come and was on the verge of going for good.

People were getting more and more intoxicated with the same rhythm the champagne was filling their tall glasses to cure their thirst between the mad Charleston dances. He patted the sweat off his forehead and walked towards the direction of Candy. She was quite occupied in a chat with two chaps whom he had no idea who they were but she seemed she knew them pretty well.

"Rose, my dear", he said, trying to be heard between all the party noise. Candy, Archie and Terry, had all stood up from the sofa they were sharing when Lord Wooster arrived in front of them.

"Lord Wooster! Let me introduce you to these two gentlemen", she said right away with a wide smile on her face. Perhaps he had news of Christian...

"This is my cousin from Chicago, Archibald Cornwell", she introduced Archie on her right, "Currently here on business", she continued as the two men were locked on a acquaintance handshake.

"And this is my dear friend from New York, Terrence Graham", she said and turned to look at Terry who already had taken Richard's hand on a handshake.

"You've thrown a great party here Lord Wooster", Terry observed.

"Oh! An Englishman!" the man commended by hearing Terry's accent.

"Yes Lord Wooster, I am", Terry replied, "I left Great Britain for the love of theatre and Broadway, I am afraid, many years ago", he continued while sipping from his champagne. "My troupe is staging Hamlet in a couple of weeks here in London"

"Don't tell me, it's the one with the great John Barrymore for the role?!", Lord Wooster asked with excitement.

"It is indeed sir! I just tagged along for the support, taking the opportunity to visit my old walking grounds...I used to live here", Terry said, being conscious at the same time of Candy's stare on his face. He wondered what she would be thinking right at that time, with him letting bits of information for her to hear.

"You don't say...", Lord Wooster exclaimed and turned to Candy.

"Rose my dear...Christian...", he started saying with a questioning face, "Where is he?"

So he didn't have news either. A new wave of worry washed her inside. She had to go on though.

"I do think he was kept behind by a prospective buyer," she said, lying through her teeth. "Very enthusiastic by the looks of him", she added trying to make the lie more convincing.

"I'm certain he'll be here at any minute now, Lord Wooster" she added, seeing the poor man's face being shadowed by thoughts.

"I do hope so dear", he finally lifted his eyes to say to her. "I had prepared such a good speech for him"

He hadn't time to say anything else. A very glamorous woman drew his attention. She wanted to introduce him to her friends.

"Please send Christian to me when he's here", he managed to say before leaving to meet his other guests.

"But of course Lord Wooster! Straight away!", she exclaimed.

The moment their host turned his head away, all the pretence melted off her face. Her eyes darkened. Where the hell was Christian? She felt like bursting to tears. Desperate for some fresh air, she turned her face towards the main doors. Archie and Terry looked at her with concern on their faces.

"Please, the both of you...can I have a moment of my own? I need some air", she turned and looked at both of them, letting her eyes linger a little bit more on Terry's face who looked more serious than his usual measured way.

She didn't let them reply to her plea but started walking fast to the open doors. If she could, she would run but she had to keep her ever-growing anguish under wraps. The moment she came out and the light breeze caressed her face, she drew a deep breath and her eyes turned to rippling lakes.

"For the love of God Christian!" she murmured between her teeth. Her fingers were shaky when she opened her evening bag to take her cigarette case out. She lit up as fast as she put a cigarette in her mouth and inhaled, taking as much nicotine down as she could.

Archie looked at Terry without being able to make heads or tails over what was happening with Christian. What they knew though was that Candy tried very hard to hide her worry and the more time was passing by, the signs of her failure were getting more obvious for them to see.

"Go to her Terry", Archie almost ordered him. Terry turned in surprise. If someone had told him in the past that Archie would be his main cheer-man, pushing him close to Candy...

"I don't think it's a good idea Archie", he said. "I really don't want to be in her face right now", no matter how much he actually wanted to run to her. But she wasn't his, her life was hers and hers alone. Just because they had a past, didn't give him the right to butt in such a way in her affairs and he could imagine Candy telling him those things.

"Poppycock!", Archie raised his voice in frustration. "I am telling you Graham, the man that Candy has been involved with, isn't good for her". His words were quick, with an urgency that Terry had found strange.

"I know you think I'm over-reacting, but you didn't see the look on his face when he suggested we'd be on our way to the party", he said trying to make the doubts he saw on Terry's face go away, who kept silent.

Archie took a deep breath. "OK, listen...I always had a hunch about things", he started saying, with a serious face, "That's why I do good with the business...", he continued.

"I also had a bad hunch for my brother when he left for the War", he said, and the reasons why he had been so adamant for Terry to go to Candy had started dawning on Terry's mind.

"I should have tried much more than I did to try to stop him...", Archie said with a mist over his eyes, "And I didn't do that"

Still Terry was silent. "Do you see now my reasons over Candy's lover?", he said and that would have been his final warning.

Terry turned and fixed his stare inside Archie's eyes, wanting to convince himself. Archie didn't have to say anything else, as Terry left right when he turned his eyes towards the main entrance. The moment, her lone figure came into his view, a black cab was stopping in front her.

—

No longer than taking three hits from her cigarette, a black cab turned into the mansion's driveway. Her eyes followed it with burning anticipation. It stopped right in front of her. With slow moves Christian came out.

Candy's eyes widened with relief. The tears stung inside them but she tried to push them back. She threw the cigarette down, crashed it under the sole of her shoe and run down the stairs, desperately wanting to throw herself inside his arms.

Terry's eyes followed the whole scene from a part of the entrance which was under the shadows. She had run with force into Christian' embrace. Terry examined intensely Christian's face. He looked troubled to say the least. Was that a flinch of pain he noticed in his eyes, the moment Candy hugged him tight? Christian gently had pushed her back, had stared at her face for a good minute, pushed her hair back and kissed her with outmost tenderness.

"Come on asshole...", Terry murmured to himself. "What's your game?"

Terry was an actor and as such, he had learned to study even the most minute details of people's expressions and all the feelings they were carrying. Observing people was always his strong point, while staying in the shadows. Always staying in the shadows. Even from the time he was growing up in his father's family. With the abusive stepmother, his disinterested siblings, his absent father. The shadows was where he felt most comfortable. The more he stayed there, looking at Candy and Christian, the more Archie's words were echoing in his mind. He thought that there was something there...some truth. He turned and walked back inside. He would have Christian in his sights. That was for sure. So he had to play third wheel for a while. It pained him to think that. But there was no way in hell, he'd leave Candy be with this guy as long as he had doubts over to what he was hiding behind the curtains. He was determined to find that out.

—-