New York City, 1902
Manhattan
The Carter's Flat
Hannah looked out the window, grimacing at the dark streets. She'd stayed at Becky's apartment longer than she had intended to and now she would have to walk back to her boarding house in the dark.
"Are you sure you want to go back tonight?"
Becky's voice interrupted Hannah's thoughts and Hannah jumped slightly. She had not expected Becky's question, even if it was one she was pondering herself.
"I know you're not sure what's going on with Elijah," Becky continued when Hannah did not immediately respond, "but if he told you to stay put, he probably had a good reason for it."
Hannah sighed. Becky was right, but that did not mean that it was going to change her mind. "I know, but I want to be there if he comes by. I don't want to worry him. Or my sister, for that matter. She's expecting me to be there tonight."
Becky shrugged, laying her hand on Hannah's shoulder as she joined her at the window. "Worrying them would be wrong, I admit, but to walk home alone this late at night under normal circumstances would be dangerous. You really should stay here, Hannah."
Hannah thought it over for a second before realizing that she was too anxious, too nervous to argue anymore. She finally nodded her agreement, turning a tired smile on her friend. "You're right, of course. If it's alright with you, I'll stay here tonight and go back tomorrow morning."
There was a hint of a victorious smile about Becky as she wrapped thin fingers around Hannah's upper arm and started to pull her gently from the window. "Come. Let's get ready for bed."
Hannah cast one last look out onto the dark New York streets before nodding. "Yes..."
New York City, 1902
The Bowery
Outside the Bluebird Café
Bolt whirled around, his hands instantly curled into fists, and his heart racing as he looked to see who he was up against. As soon as he saw who it was, he relaxed his fingers, although his breathing remained quickened. "Shit, Conlon! You tryin' to give me a heart attack? I'm on edge enough as it is, I don't need you adding to it." He ran his hand nervously through his hair, waiting for his pounding heart to return to its normal rhythm.
Spot didn't look the least bit flustered. Hands in his front pockets, he looked over Bolt. "So, was it Conners?" Spot asked directly, ignoring Bolt's outburst.
Bolt dragged his hand across his face. As if he wanted to remember? "Yeah. Well, it was Johnny. Johnny Tornado. But he was speaking for Conners. So, yeah."
Spot looked thoughtful, and he remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "What did he want?" he finally asked, breaking the short silence.
"He wants me to throw a fight," he replied, falling back against the brick wall of the alley.
Spot raised his eyebrows, not really impressed. "That's it?"
Bolt shrugged tiredly. "That's all he said. Just… throw a fight."
"There's more to it," Spot said, sounding sure, "Conners isn't going to let you off that easily."
Even though he would never admit to Spot—he didn't even want to admit it to himself yet—he knew Spot was right. "Yeah, that's what I thought. He wants me here tomorrow night, to let him know my decision, you know."
Spot rubbed his jaw, turning the facts over in his head. "I'll see what I can find out from my side. I'll get back to you tomorrow before you meet with him again."
Bolt nodded, too tired to question Spot about what he was going to be doing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Keep your eyes open," Spot said, shooting Bolt a warning glance. "I wouldn't put it past Conners to try to pull something first."
"You too. If he finds out you're helping me?" Bolt trailed off, letting Spot fill in the blanks for himself.
Spot smirked, his cocky confidence clearly plastered across his face. "Do you think I got to where I am by accident? Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
Bolt turned, just about to leave the alley, when Spot spoke again, "You know, if you want to get your girl out of town, you better do it soon. The longer she's here, the more opportunity Conners is going to have to get to her."
Bolt gritted his teeth together at the thought, nodding his agreement. Spot Conlon definitely had the knack of making him feel even worse about the whole situation.
Still nodding to himself, he left the alley, pulling out his father's old pocket watch as he did so. It was late, too late to go talk to Hannah tonight. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if he should go over to her boarding house anyway. Even if he just sat outside on the steps, he could at least keep an eye on it and make sure nobody came around who wished to do her harm.
Bolt slid the watch back into his pocket, heading off towards Hannah's house. He'd stay up all night if he had too, just to make sure she was okay.
New York City, 1902
Lower Manhattan
Joe Conners' Apartment
"I don't know, Boss. This ain't making any sense to me. If you really want to get your revenge on Henderson, why aren't you crushing him? I mean, all you're making him do is throw a fight? I don't get it."
Joe Conners looked up from his breakfast--Scrambled eggs and hot potatoes-- and fixed his eyes on his young guest as one might eye an annoying bug. "Johnny, don't ask me to explain things to you that you won't understand. It only wastes my time."
His words were patient but his tone was patronizing, and Johnny Tornado looked away, bitterness flooding his thoughts. He knew he was better than Conner, and someday he was going to prove it. As soon as he had the chance, he was going to be the leader of this gang. He'd make sure of it.
Conners was an idiot, he thought to himself , if all his plans for Henderson centered around that stupid fight.
Conners, oblivious to Johnny's mutinous thoughts, just flicked his napkin carelessly. "Johnny, you should be going," he said, bringing the napkin up to wipe at his mouth, "I have an important meeting this morning. Don't you have your own business to take care of?"
Johnny cleared his throat, adopting a servile tone of voice again. "Of course, sir. I'll take care of it right now."
Yeah, right after I stop into to see a few friendshe added to himself mentally. Johnny Tornado knew how to get along in this town. You had to know people and you had to have timing. Johnny had both of those and he was ready to make his move.
He smirked to himself as he left the apartment, pleased with the way things were turning out.
Conners sighed, watching out the window as Johnny left the building. He'd had his reservations about building Tornado up so quickly, but the kid had proved himself time and time again. Now he thought he was somebody important and who knew what he was going to try.
But that was the problem with Johnny Tornado. The kid thought he was invincible. Conners would have to take special care with him, a fact that annoyed him greatly. He didn't have time to be concerned about that--not now.
Joe Conners didn't trust anybody. He didn't operate on trust, he operated on fear. As long as the men who surrounded him feared him, he knew he could keep them in line.
A knock on the doorframe interrupted his thoughts, and Conners turned to see a maid standing there. "Your visitor is here, sir. He's in the parlor."
Conners smiled at the maid, patting her hand as he walked by. "Why, thank you, Bernice."
The girl flushed at the contact but did not move, except to curtsy. Conners smile widened as he left her behind him, heading straight to the parlor.
He entered the room, greeting his guest as he pulled the door closed behind him. He had been expecting this young man.
"Ah, Mr. Conlon," he said, all but purring. "As always, it is a pleasure."