Greetings!

Thanks to all the people who have followed, favorite, and reviewed this story! I love you all :D

I think this will only have one (or possibly two) chapters left.

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Allons-y!

Part 2: Undercover

John gave David a whiskey. No cheap talk would make this better. He drained the glass then stared into its depths as if it would give him answers. A tableau Clara had seen many times before. When life dropped you at the bottom it seemed the only place left to look was the glass. She had never known anyone to get an answer yet.

John slid over to Clara's side. "Something about this seem wrong to you?"

She met his eyes. His brow was creased with worry lines he was trying to mask for his brother's stake.

"Only everything."

John lowered his voice, "My brother's a nobody. He doesn't have that kind of green. There's no reason to target them."

Clara didn't say what she was thinking.

They could question the neighbors and see if anyone saw anything. It would probably be a waste of time though. New Yorkers were famous for keeping their heads down and looking the other way. People chose to believe that if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

Clara knelt down beside David, "Do you remember what the men looked like?"

It took a moment for the shell-shocked man to reply. "One was blonde and short, one I think was Cuban, and the other had dark cropped hair. I'm sorry it's all sorta hazy."

"What about their clothes?" she prompted.

David frowned trying to remember. Witnesses often missed all the details in the heat of the moment. "The one with dark hair, he had a pin on his lapel."

"What kind of pin?"

"It was like a glowing eye or something."

"Was it inside a black circle?" asked John suddenly.

David nodded.

Clara shot John a questioning glance. She knew he was onto something.

"A case I worked awhile back. It's the Dalek symbol."

The image clicked into place in her mind. "That clip joint gentleman's club on 4th."

"I think the word you're looking for is brothel."

"I guess I know where we are going."

David's head snapped up when they told him they were leaving. There was a fire in his eyes Clara had never seen before. Only on John. His expression was storm clouds.

"I'm coming with you."

"David-"

"Rose is my wife. I am coming." he declared.

She was not keen on the idea, but there was no point in arguing. It would only waste time.

Dalek was situated between a flop house and a gin mill. The front of the dive was covered in fake brass platting inset with brass knobbles. It was a strange industrial design that was far from visually pleasing. Mounted above the entrance was the glowing eye. Watching, emotionless, the base humanity which passed beneath.

Clara had staked out the joint more than once when tailing a cheating husband. The cigarette girls here were known to give a man a cigar in more ways than one. Half the highbinders and mouthpieces in the city spent dough at the Dalek so there was no way it was going to be shut down. It didn't matter if everybody knew the place was a front to launder money for New York's biggest heroin dealer.

"I don't like this plan." John said.

Clara finished pinning on her pill-box hat before replying. She had managed to pinch one of the girl's uniforms. It was black with brass trimmings and buttons. The skirt was short and the corset showed more cleavage than it hid. She looked like every soldier's dream girl.

"I will be fine. Don't forget I've saved your bacon more than once."

John eyed her up and down a grin playing on his lips. "I haven't. That still doesn't mean I have to feel good about this."

David nodded in agreement. He had changed into a fresh suit and his fedora was tipped low to cover the black eye and prevent anyone from recognizing him. He and John were going to act as patrons while she used her outfit to check out the back.

Giving John a quick peck on the lips, Clara said, "Wait five minutes before following me in."

The inside of Dalek was just as appealing as the outside. It could have even been worse but the smoke was so thick it was hard to tell. The dirty chairs and booths were filled with boozehounds, grifters, and blank-eyed women. No one looked at Clara long enough to realize she didn't work there. At least no one looked at her face long enough.

Once John and David came in and sat down at a booth on the opposite end of the room she made her move. Slipping through the door to the back Clara started her search. There was no guaranty that Rose or the men who took her were there, but it was the only lead they had.

Turning a corner Clara heard voices. They were coming from an office at the end of the hall. She crept closer. There were two of them, both male.

"How do you know he won't simply pay the ransom?" said a nasally, board voice.

The voice which responded crackled with malice. It was toneless, inhuman. A shiver ran down Clara's spine.

"Because, Simeon, I know John Smith. He is predicable; he'll come for the girl without a doubt." The voice turned hard, "And when he does we kill him."

Clara's breath caught in her throat. This whole thing was bunk. It was all a setup to rub out her boyfriend. Her fear turned to resolve, because there was one thing these goons hadn't counted on. And that was her.

But first Clara knew she needed to warn John and find Rose. She was the pawn in this chess match who could tip the board. Whoever had the hostage, had the power.

Without warning a hand grabbed her shoulder.

"You shouldn't be here." hissed a voice.