Chapter 34: Nebula

Groaning, Sanderson flipped through the folder again.

"Easton?" he called. Seconds later, the skinny man appeared in the door to his office.

"Sir?"

"Have you found anything of interest?"

"I'm afraid, I haven't, Sir. Jacob Rose doesn't seem to have made much of an impact in Melbourne as of yet. One of our informants is of the opinion that he has only returned from the continent after his sister was convicted. He is also of the opinion that I am insane for waking him at six in the morning to ask him those questions."

Sanderson stared at the completely serious face for a long moment, wondering if there had been a joke involved. He wasn't entirely sure if Easton was capable of humour. The remainder of words dripped into his tired mind slowly.

"Only a few months then. It would take plenty of influence and money to establish an operation like the one we found at Gabler's," he sighed, taking his glasses off.

"I would have to agree, Sir."

"Yet, he seems not particularly worried about us discovering his sly-grog production. In fact, his letter on Mr. Cromms seems to suggests that he has been counting on it."

"Are you implying that Mr. Rose has built a trap for the Inspector?"

Sanderson closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose in silence. The clerk watched on. He knew his employer well.

"The thought had crossed my mind, Mr. Easton. But then again, I'm certain that there are easier ways to accomplish the Inspector's imprisonment than luring him to Collingwood and allowing him to discover a grog production of this scale. Also, Mr. Rose couldn't have known that I would send Inspector Robinson and his wife of all people."

"Of course not," Jerrod Easton agreed. "We would certainly be overestimating his capability for elaborate planning, Sir. It seems much more likely that he realised the Robinsons were on his heels and decided to turn the tables."

Sanderson nodded slowly, returning his glasses to their place.

"Even though the disappearance of Mr. Carter and the recollection of events we have heard from the witnesses, seem to shed a different light on things."

He stared at Easton for a long moment.

"Do you believe that Michael Carter is indeed working for Rose?" he asked his Assistant. The clerk thought about this for a long moment.

"I can't say I do, Sir. He always has demonstrated integrity and loyalty in the past. But then, it is impossible to tell if you can trust someone, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Easton. Indeed it is."

Sanderson dismissed his clerk and returned to flicking through paperwork, without really taking anything in. He was not quite certain how to play this. There was indeed not much interesting information out there on Mr. Rose and with every minute going by, the chances grew slimmer that they could find Jack and his Miss Fisher alive.

George knew that he was standing by his word, every man he had at his disposal was turning Collingwood upside down, interviewing potential witnesses, searching empty houses and factory halls. Yet, he still wasn't sure if he had made the right call. Only time would show. He stared at his phone, willing it to ring. Resisting the urge to once again telephone City South where Morgan was coordinating the flow of news and men alike, he sighed and returned to his paperwork. Just when he flicked open another file, shrill ringing sounded through the barely lit office.

X

They heard the cars. It was gone half past six, when the first motor was started. Others joined in. There was yelling in the yard, heavy boots on the ground. It had to be at least 20 people down there, Jack contemplated. Finally the last of the motors roared and and vanished into the distance, taking all the voices with it. The Inspector attempted to drag himself to his feet, suppressing a cough. A hand grasped for his arm.

"Wait," Phryne whispered. Jack nodded, letting himself sink back onto the floor. She was right. They shouldn't rush this, even though he wanted nothing else. His chest hurt as another cough shook him. In the darkness he pulled the revolver from his pocket. It was heavier than his pistol and felt incredibly cold in his palm. Two bullets.

He didn't want to shoot anyone. Of course, he had killed before. In the War. Occasionally during his time with the police force. There were situations when you had no choice. Jack dreaded them nevertheless. The moment when you realised that you had taken a life. No way back.

There was also a more practical side to it. A shot was sure to raise the alarm. Which meant that they had no time to lose, the instance they were confronted with a guard. Jack would have preferred to deal with Rose's men any other way, but he could barely stand straight and Phryne... he didn't want to think about his wife's state. They needed to get to freedom and fast. With some resolve, Jack closed the cylinder, inspected his watch again. 6.50. It was time.

Carefully, he pushed the cabinet door open, and spied out into the quiet sitting room. Twilight was seeping through the large window, dipping everything into it's blue. He turned, realising with a lurch of his stomach that Phryne's left shoulder was drenched in drying blood. Remembering to draw air into his stinging lungs, Jack stretched out his hand and helped her up; buried his fingers into the wood to keep them both stable. In unusual silence, his wife obeyed. A pained groan escaped her lips as he helped her out of the cabinet.

"We'll be home soon," Jack smiled thinly and kissed her clammy forehead.

"Are you certain of that, Inspector?"

Jack's heart stopped. As if in slow motion, he spun to where Mike Carter was leaning against the door. The man smiled, casually pulling a pistol.

"How are you enjoying hell, Jack?"

X

Elaine Browning didn't turn around, when the door to her cell was unlocked.

"It's time, Ma'am."

"It appears it is," she said, without tearing her eyes from the small piece of sky the rising sun had started to light up. Only uncomfortable silence answered her.

"You know, one never believes it will actually happen," she said casually, turning to the warder. Her skin was as grey as her dress. The young man agreed politely. It was his first hanging and Elaine Browning, his boss had assured him, didn't deserve his sympathy. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if killing a lady was quite right. "You shalt not kill" was after all written in the Lord's commandments. He was still pondering this, while he escorted Mrs. Browning down the long, dark halls of the Pentridge Prison to her last destination.

X

"It wasn't actually hard to find you, in case you're wondering," Carter stated, while he took the safety off his pistol. "I just had to follow the trail of blood. And that's a nasty cough you got there, Turner. Oh, sorry, it's Robinson, isn't it?"

Grinning he walked towards the couple that stood frozen to the spot in the middle of the room. Jack was glancing at Phryne who looked pale and worn. She didn't appear to be able to fight - or run for that matter. Which meant, he had exactly one choice.

"I wouldn't even think about grabbing for that gun, Jack. Because then I would sadly have to put a bullet in your head and I doubt your wife would appreciate us getting more blood on her clothes."

The Inspector swallowed dryly. He certainly did not want to die right in front of Phryne's eyes.

"You're completely right," he heard her voice through the fog around his brain. It appeared calm, almost friendly - at least to someone who didn't know her. "Blood on my clothes really is not my style, Mr. Carter."

Where Mike had been staring at Jack, his attention was drawn to Phryne, who was shaking with anger – or so the Inspector hoped.

"At least not my own," she continued, smiling sweetly. "A lady can get rather annoyed when someone ruins her dress."

Jack didn't dare breathing. But while Carter was distracted, his own shivering hand was sneaking towards the weapon hidden in his pocket. Just when his fingers closed around it, Carter spun. "Put it down," he bellowed. "I will say it exactly one time."

His pistol hovered dangerously close to Phryne's chest. Jack gulped, then slowly, very slowly lowered the revolver to the ground. When he came back up, he was staring down a barrel.

"That's a good boy," Mike grinned, kicking the second weapon out of reach. It disappeared together with the last two saving bullets underneath the love seat. "But sadly," the criminal continued, "I will still have to shoot you. So, who wants to die first?"

Jack met Phryne's eyes past the gangster's shoulder, then nodded.

"Ah, a gentleman," Carter smirked. "I should have known."

But before he had a chance to aim his pistol at Jack's head, an arm was slung around his neck, squeezing the air out of him. Mike ripped Phryne's desperate hand from himself, causing her to stumble backwards where she crashed, shoulder first, against the cabinet. A red-hot blaze of pain flashed in front of her eyes, which temporarily took her breath away. A shot rang through the silent morning as the pistol clattered to the ground while Jack lunged himself onto Carter. Both men hit the floor heavily. Wrestling against a weakened but incredibly angry Inspector, the Criminal scrabbled for his gun, bashing his opponent against the jaw with his elbow. Jack's muffled scream of pain cut through Phryne's bones. The Inspector was furiously punching and kicking at every soft spot he could find. There was nothing fair or equal about the deadly struggle but a long night fighting for their lives had taken it's toll on Jack. Carter was getting the upper hand, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his chest.

Wheezing, Jack tried to shake him off, when the man above him suddenly went quiet. The Inspector raised his eyes to see what had happened.

In the sudden silence they could hear steps rush down the hall, any minute they would be discovered and Mike Carter would be the least of their problems. But Phryne was towering over both men and something in her hand had thrown the criminal.

"Jack?" she asked.

Her husband rolled Carter off himself, before the man could wake from his frozen state and crawled to his feet, taking the gun from Phryne's shaking fingers.

He knew, one of them would have to pull the trigger. They couldn't allow Carter to follow them, and there were more of Rose's men to come any moment. If they wanted to live, he'd have to shoot an unarmed man, kneeling on the floor. Jack's finger wouldn't obey. Noticing his hesitation, the horrible grin crept back onto Carter's face.

"Coward," he spat. Jack clenched his jaw, his finger twitching on the trigger. He needed to bring Phryne home. Steps came rushing closer. Jack drew a last breath into his aching lungs, aimed and pulled back his finger... The door flew open.

"Miss Jane!" a voice yelled. It sounded awfully familiar and Jack started. The girl standing in the door was staring at the scene in horror. Carter used the moment of confusion to scramble to his feet and push her out of the way to race down the hall. Jack wanted to follow, but found that his legs denied service - if out of exhaustion or relief, he couldn't have said.

"Jane," Phryne whispered, staring at her daughter as if she was a Fata Morgana. Jack turned to look at his wife, who was white as the wall and appeared as close to collapsing as he had ever seen her. A moment later, Mac stormed through the door, bumping into Jane who barely kept on her feet in the second onslaught.

"Dear God!" was all she said, after taking in the scene.

"About time you show up," Phryne smiled thinly, without moving.

"Well, you should leave an address next time," Mac quipped, while she pulled friend into a tight embrace that belied both women's nonchalance, then took her to the loveseat to sit her down.

In the first morning light, Jack stood lost in the middle of the room until he realised that his daughter was still staring at him in disbelief. There were tears in her eyes, but she seemed unable to comprehend what was happening. Jack looked down at the pistol in his hand, then carefully laid it onto a sideboard before walking towards the teenager and wordlessly wrapping her into his arms. There was sobbing, he wasn't sure if hers or his, but it didn't really matter. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Are you all right, Sir?"

Hugh's huge eyes looked at him in deep, honest concern and Jack couldn't help but smile.

"Never been better, Collins."

It wasn't quite a lie. Maybe a little fibbing, but then, what did it matter? They were safe. They had survived hell.

Across the quickly crowding room his eyes met Phryne's, who was watching the scene with tears shimmering in her eyes. Mac was currently berating her for bad wound management in a voice that lacked any sincerity, while feeling her pulse. The police officers who were currently not busy arresting the left guards, looked lost. Most of them weren't even City South, Jack realised. Sanderson must have cared a whole lot more than he let Rose know. Outside, a cool morning was breaking, fog wafting up from the river.

"Jack! Phryne! Thank God, yer alive!" Eddie exclaimed while he walked through the door and grasped Jack's hand. The Inspector thanked him quietly without letting go of Jane.

"You're hurt, Miss?" the Cec asked from somewhere, completely forgetting Phryne's martial status in the chaos of emotion.

"Just a scratch," Phryne lied while she pulled herself to her feet.

Behind more policemen, Natalija and Bert pressed into the room. "You should've seen Mr. B's right hook," the Cabbie grumbled happily. "That gangster who ran'd never seen it comin'."

"Neither did the Commissioner," Eddie grinned.

Mr. Butler had the decency to look embarrassed while he greeted his Master. Jack stared at him, slowly shaking his head. His fever was messing with his mind, he was certain by now. As he listened to the relieved chattering of his daughter, exhaustion slowly took over every single one of his muscles. Finally letting go of Jane to cover his mouth for another coughing attack, his eyes again sought out Phryne, who was surrounded by people. There was a tiny bit of colour to her cheeks that took a weight of his chest. But he longed to go home.

That was, however, not an option just yet, the policeman in him reminded Jack. Sanderson needed to be informed, Gabler's to be raided, and Rose - Rose was still out there, even if Carter had been stopped by Mr. Butler's fist.

"Let's get you two home," he heard Elizabeth say beside his ear. "And there I'll have a closer look at you as well, Jack. You sound like hell, with the looks to match."

"I always loved your charms, Mac" the Inspector commented dryly.

But he was too worn to protest, when the Doctor shoved him towards the door. On his way down the stairs, surrounded by loud, happy people, someone brushed against his arm. He realised that it was Phryne. He grasped her hand and she smiled at him briefly.

In fact, Mrs. Robinson was currently swimming in her own world. She knew they had been saved, but it felt unreal. Bantering with Mac, hugging Jane, convincing Hugh that she was fine... It all had happened through a thick veil of pain, exhaustion and confusion. She wasn't fine, not in the slightest. Grasping Jack's hand tethered her to the world, maybe in the same way as once, a long time ago, hers had kept him from slipping away. Not that she had any intentions of the kind. In fact, the whole ado about her gunshot wound was starting to get on her nerves. She just wanted to go home and sleep.

Just when the group poured through the door into the yard, the rising sun dipped the world into it's glow, turning the fog into a thick haze of shimmering orange. Phryne stopped for a moment and inhaled, holding Jack back with her. The cool morning air was amazing after the endless, waking night locked in stuffy rooms and the Inspector's arm crept around his wife, pulling her close. They were both shivering, but neither could bring themselves to care. In the distance the dark hills rose up against the milky, light sky, stretching black trees against the dawn. The world was breathtakingly beautiful to the eyes of two people who hadn't been entirely certain they would see it again.

There was a quiet whisper beside Phryne's ear, completely inaudible for anyone but her and even she could barely make out the words. But they made her smile.

The roaring of a motor cut through the moment of harmony as a police car shot with screeching tyres around the corner, coming to a sliding halt in front of the mixed group of people.

"Good God, I am so glad you are safe," the woman jumping out exclaimed.

"Dot! I was wondering if you are at home, being a good girl?"

Phryne slipped out of Jack's grasp to hug her companion one-armed but sincerely.

"Not quite. We were speaking with Mrs. Carter and she finally broke her silence. I already telephoned Commissioner Sanderson and City South, but most of the men are here!"

Dorothy was looking flustered and panting in a way that worried Hugh.

"Dottie, calm down," he begged of her. "What did she say?"

"Little Jacob is headed for Pentridge gaol to break out his sister!"